#if you will just show me whatever is out there out east

[ghostf1ux]

The Gotham River is Not Your Friend

Day 13: Hypothermia

Word Count: 5.6k

TW/CWs: Medical inaccuracies probably

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So, here's the thing.

All things considered, Jason would not have still been here if it weren't for Tim, his replacement (so to speak, they've long since gotten past that), who insisted he needed their help. Which isn't to say he wouldn't have been here at all, he just wouldn't have been here for this long.

It was just a simple job. Black Mask was getting a weapons shipment, and Jason planned to yoink it for his own operation. It was only three trucks, nothing he can't handle on a good night, and tonight was a good night!

But then him and fucking East End showed up in a cloud of smoke and mirrors or whatever the saying is, and everything was plunged into chaos.

“I said I had this handled–!” Jason hisses into the comm, simultaneously taking careful shots at any Mask goons he can see from his place in the support beams of the bridge connected mid and lower Gotham together.

“Intel says they have more explosives and people than you were planning for, so B sent us to step in, just in case it was a trap!” Tim retorts. Jason rolls his eyes at the red and black whirl of motion that's working on the outskirts of the crowd, jumping down just in time to land on someone who was about to get the drop on Tim.

“I've dealt with a lot more in a much worse condition,” Jason snaps, not even looking over to nail someone in the kneecap with a rubber bullet. “I don't need your fucking help, so back off.”

Tim's face twists into something incredulous, gesturing around wildly with his staff. “Not even B would go into something like this without backup! It's too risky, there's too many variables–”

“Oh yeah, like your inability to cover your own ass–”

“Yes, yes, girls, you're both pretty, can you focus back in on the actual fight?” Stephanie cuts them both off over comms, a smirk evident in her voice at how both brothers snap their mouths shut. “I'd like to get home at a reasonable time tonight.”

“Shoulda picked a different job then,” Jason snarks, pointedly shoving Tim out of his way with one finger before jumping back into the fight. Tim scoffs obnoxiously, but doesn't comment further than that.

“Or maybe I should've picked different coworkers. Oh wait.”

Tim makes a noise of offense while Jason just grins. Their comms dissolve into occasional banter while they mow down the groups of Black Mask goons, splitting up to speed up the task.

This works great until Tim decides to antagonize the second truck, which just so happens to apparently have more people with bigger guns than all the others. Jason is quick to hop in to help him, but their moment of actual strategic thought makes them both wary of getting close too quickly. Unfortunately, some of the ones from the third truck are peeling off to sandwich them, so they're kind of out of options.

“Shit, Spoiler needs help, you got this, Hood?”

Jason ponders this while taking shots at the goons, just barely missing getting grazed simply because of the sheer quantity of bullets he has to dodge. “Yeah, I got it. Go save your girlfriend or whatever. I'm taking off after this, got plans, so don't expect me to stick around.”

“Ex!” Steph shouts indignantly, loud enough that he can heat it even without the comm. He snickers, ducking behind the nearest cover he can find to let them unload their bullets.

“Yeah, whatever, just tie them up when you're done,” Tim sighs.

“Overrated. I'll just make it so they can't walk. Way easier.”

Tim sighs tiredly again, his exhaustion showing through despite his small age. And yes, it is a small age, it doesn't matter that he's only two years younger than Jason.

Regardless, it's his turn to sigh when the goons are still firing. “Alright, fuck this,” Jason mutters under his breath, pulling out a grenade and flicking the pin away before lobbing it over their heads, directly under the truck. At the same time he hops the bit of concrete he'd been using as cover and rushes in while they're distracted, cutting through as many as he can get through with his knives.

It's at this moment the grenade goes off, and the words more explosives than you planned for echo in his mind.

At first, there's a wave of heat. Then there's a sense of whistling wind outside his ringing ears, and maybe he's in the air? His feet aren't touching anything, but he can't see so who really knows. Distantly, he tries to breathe, and registers that he can't.

Huh.

That… that's not good, is it?

It's a distant thought, one that flits around in his mind before dissipating into nothing.

There's something else.

He's missing something.

What is he missing–

Jason's mouth opens in a silent scream as he's enveloped in something cold– no, cold doesn't even begin to describe it. It's sharp, stabbing, like a million knives are driving into his skin at every angle, digging into every pore and shredding through his muscle until it can chip away at the bone underneath. Whatever breath he had managed to get is gone in an instant when his back hits the icy chill and suddenly he's surrounded by it on all sides, pressing in on him and suddenly everything is screaming at him– 

Water.

Bridge.

Explosion.

Fuck.

Almost on autopilot, maybe something closer to instinct or desperate habit, Jason claws his way– up? Is he going up? He can't see, his vision is still filled with white spots and everything is so cold it just drags him down, down, down– 

Hands churn relentlessly through the way with a force that borders on impressive. He's insistent in his movements despite the way the icy tendrils of water pull at him, try to slow him down, the way they fill his mouth and his nose and fuck it's just like that night all over again and fuck why is this the third fucking time he's had to go through something like this– 

Gloved fingers claw and tear against the current and now his chest is starting to burn, it's so hot despite all the cold, it makes him so tired, so exhausted and he can't kick his legs, he can't make it easier, he's trying but he can't fucking move his legs– 

He bumps against something hard above him. He latches onto it with a death grip, pulling it towards him despite the obvious resistance and shoves it under his chest and suddenly he's gasping for air as he breaches the surface, coughing up what water made its way into his mouth. He drapes himself over the piece of wood he grabbed, heaving in wheezing breaths as he tries to regain some sense of an ability to breathe.

As soon as he has even close to the amount of breath needed, he screams. It's loud, he thinks, by the way his throat is raw and hurting afterwards, but it's hard to tell with everything else. The edge of the wood digs into his (probably cracked now) ribs, and each movement in the water, each little wave, sends stabs of burning agony up and down his spine. Probably has to do with whatever is preventing him from moving his legs.

It's probably important. 

Jason dismisses it for now.

The white spots flitting across and blocking his vision are starting to dissipate, though it's slow. He's able to make out an orange glow in the distance, and has some feeling of… recognition? To it. It's weird. There's something there. Something that matters. Something that– 

Jason whimpers– he allows himself the indignity, the moment of weakness, seeing as he's completely fucking alone– when a shiver rips through his body. There's a steady pulsing– his heartbeat– coming from his body and– 

Hm. Well, at least he's alive, because if his heartbeat wasn't coming from his body, then there would be some much bigger issues than whatever he's got going on right now.

He finds himself grinning at that, vaguely aware of how his teeth chatter together.

It's about the little things, like making yourself mentally laugh because the reality of the situation is that if you laughed out loud you'd probably scream. Again.

Squinting at the dark horizon, Jason is struck with the thought of wasn't that orange blob a lot bigger a moment ago?

But, like the rest of his thoughts in recent memory, it slips through his fingers like smoke. Or, to be more relatable to the situation at hand, the thoughts slip through his fingers like little blocks of ice that shatter at the impact of them hitting the ground.

Actually, that's super accurate, because Jason just did that! Minus the shattering. Maybe. He hopes.

Jason blinks slowly as he comes to the realization that his feet and hands are completely numb, and the sensation is crawling up his legs and arms. It doesn't help with the pain much, seeing as it isn't really in his hands or feet, but hey, maybe it'll help once it gets to his hips? Those things are causing him a world of pain right now and with how the bones and joints grind together in places they shouldn't be and it would just be really helpful– 

Oh.

Maybe that's why he can't move his legs. Maybe his hips are dislocated.

Some vaguely gruff voice grunts in the back of his mind and he sags into the wood, all the fight leaving him at once. Or maybe he already did that. He takes this as an agreement, and decides to move on before he gets the urge to scream again.

Time is a weird soup and Jason doesn't have the mental capacity to unpack all that right now.

His chest hurts, a lot, but not as bad as his hips. There's the general feeling of pain that's widespread throughout his body focused on his chest, sure, but there's also little pinpricks of pain that manage to male it through every so often when he isn't nearly blinded with everything else.

Ooh, and his face is wet. Like, a warm wet. Not a cold wet. Usually. His head is laid on his arms, folded over the broken and burned piece of wood– when did that happen? Who knows, because Jason certainly couldn't tell you– and sometimes the little waves come up and splash him, washing away that warm wet with the icy cold wet, but there's a consistent flow of the warmth regardless. His eye is closed because of it, he knows that, but he can't really tell what it is because every time he tries to think about it his head starts pounding and his chest constricts further somehow and his eyes start burning and fuck it hurts, it hurts so bad, everything fucking hurts please I need help– 

Yeah, no. Not touching that with a ten foot pole. It's easier to just… drift.

Drift, with the vague feeling of agony riddled in every fucking inch of him.

Drift, with the stabbing numbness crawling up his thighs and biceps now, and he knows he should do something about that but he just can't bring himself to fucking move– 

Drift, and just let it all float away. Let it all fade to the background. Just breathe, and feel the way his heartbeat pulses as his body tries to start healing itself or keep itself warm, listen to the incessant ringing in his ears, and– 

Wait.

Is someone calling his name?

“HOOD!?”

That feels like a name he's supposed to answer to. It sounds like someone's in trouble, or hurt, maybe?

“Oh shit, yeah, okay, um– I'll get you out of here, just gimme a sec, yeah? Yeah, okay, okay…”

He'll get right on that, oh scared citizen. Just… as soon as he can bring himself to unfreeze his limbs and move.

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

Man, fuck high school. Fuck English class specifically.

Duke groans as he lets his head fall back against the shitty bench he's sitting on, a dull thunk the only sound resonating from the action. It's fuckass early in the morning and he still isn't done with his damn essay that's due today. Only reason he's out here is so he can get a breather from staring at his screen all night, and hopefully stave off the headache that's been building for the past four hours.

The crisp spring breeze floats across Duke's face, partially hidden by the coat he's wearing to stay warm. As far as Gotham goes, it's actually a fairly decent temperature out, especially considering it's late March, but he doesn't feel like being cold for no reason so the heavy jacket it is.

And really, he just needed the fresh air. Which is an oxymoron because, once again, it's Gotham, but this is the closest he can get. This park right on the edge of the Narrows provides for a great backdrop to Duke's misery, scant trees and a small field serving as the foreground for the view into the Gotham River that splits middle and lower Gotham into its respective islands.

He sighs, slumping and gazing out into the river. In the distance, there's a plume of yellowy-orange that's slowly growing smaller. Must've been an explosion, no doubt one of the Bats. Probably Hood, if he's being honest. Based on what Duke's observed, he's the most likely one to cause an explosion by far, and the Narrows being his territory definitely doesn't protect it from that. Usually he's pretty careful about it though (honestly, to a level that's really impressive) so no one really minds all that much. Not like he's killing anymore, so he's probably gotta get his fix somehow.

Not that it matters much to Duke. It's not like he knows the guy, or any of the Flock for that matter. The most he's seen is the couple glimpses here and there, and what everybody's seen whenever they're on the news.

Regardless.

He's supposed to be relaxing for a bit, not thinking about all the rampant crime in the city he (unfortunately?) calls home.

Looking out over the river, he falls into an easy trance watching the little waves rippling out over the expansive surface. For once, it's not cloudy, so the moonlight reflects off the murky grey-brown-green water. Silvery white and red shines brightly against the dark background and– 

Wait.

Pause.

Roll that back.

Duke blinks a couple times, squinting. There shouldn't be red in the water. Nothing that shines that brightly anyways. If it were blood, it would be way darker and he probably wouldn't even be able to see it. If it were some kind of cloth, it wouldn't just be that speck of color, and it wouldn't be shiny.

He rubs his eyes again, standing up.

When he looks again, he can see a dark blob mostly in the water behind the little dot of red. A little dot of red that's slowly drifting closer.

That's–? No, it can't be…

Right?

Duke finds himself jogging down to the water's edge, following the red spots path and yep– yep that's definitely a helmet, a very memorable helmet, one that everyone in Gotham knows at this point, but one a kid from the Narrows especially knows.

It's at this point that Duke starts running towards the steps leading down to the concrete beach, as they like to call it. His gaze stays locked on Hood's helmet in fear of possibly losing him amongst the waves, doubtful as it is. He nearly trips over the bottom step in his race to get down there.

By the time he's scaled the larger concrete steps, or benches, that lead down to the ‘beach’ proper, Hood has drifted closer. Close enough to be in earshot, maybe?

“Hood!” Duke yells, cupping his lips to make the sound travel further. “Hood, can you hear me?!”

He doesn't stir, from what Duke can tell. Fuck, what if he's dead? How am I supposed to tell the Bats one of them is dead??

No. No. He isn't dead. Just… just knocked out? Yeah, just knocked out. Hopefully.

“Hood, can you hear me?!” Duke shouts again in some vain attempt to get some sign of life from the guy. “HOOD?!”

It's miniscule, but his head shifts, just enough for it to have been purposeful and not just the waves. Duke smiles, but his anxiety skyrockets. Okay, okay, so he's alive, but he's gotta be super injured for this to be his reaction to Duke yelling his name at the top of his lungs in the fucking Narrows. This has gotta be some new level of stupid, now everyone who might've heard him is gonna know Hood is out here, and if they were able to tell Duke's distress then they'll know he's hurt– 

No. Focus. Get him out of the water, deal with everything else later.

The frigid water laps at Duke's shoes as he gets closer, close enough that even from where the vigilante is at least fifteen yards out, he can see the blood shining on his face where a giant gash cuts through his helmet and the domino underneath, staining the white streak red. It looks like the domino might be cut through too, based on the sheer amount of blood that still steadily flows from the wound.

When he's finally close enough that Duke can get a better look at him, he can feel his heart drop out of his chest at the man's state, at least what little he can see. There are tears in his jacket and armor where he can see all the way through to skin, and the fabric is singed, charred in some places, mostly around his shoulder and arm. His breaths are slow, shallow, wheezing things that make Duke's gut twist in worry.

“Oh shit, yeah, okay, um– I'll get you out of here, just gimme a sec, yeah? Yeah, okay, okay…” Duke's hands flutter uselessly as he decides what to do. There's a vigilante– and not just any vigilante, the fucking Red Hood– washing up practically dead on the southwest beach of the Narrows, coming from some mission gone wrong, and if he's right about the general amount of time he's spent in the water, he highly doubts the rest of his Flock knows something's wrong, and that's not even considering Hood's trademarked independence from them all (which has gotten better in recent history as far as he knows, but it's definitely still a thing).

Long story short: this is a side of Hood that no one outside his family should be seeing and he doesn't know what to do.

“Okay, okay, one thing at a time. Get him out of the water, someplace safe and preferably warm,” Duke mutters to himself. Hood is freezing to the touch, and it's no wonder the man is practically vibrating with shivers. He manages to work his arms underneath Hood's and gently– well, as gentle as he can be with someone who's way too big and way too fucking heavy– lifts him and starts dragging him out of range of the waves. His head lolls and his body stays limp, like a doll with its strings cut (and what a comforting thought that is), but his chest stutters over every inhale and is shaking in every exhale. At this angle, he can't see Hood's face, but he wouldn't be surprised to find it screwed up in pain due to whatever injuries Duke can't see.

Unfortunately for him, he isn't nearly strong enough to fully lift the– he must be pushing 300 pounds, right? There's no way he's less than 250– vigilante so he'll just have to deal with it until Duke can get him to someplace he can actually lay down.

Thankfully, even with Duke being careful, he's able to drag the man over to a shadowed corner of the concrete bench steps, where the overhang of a tree and a nearby building blot out most of the little nook, making it easy for eyes to pass over dark shapes huddled in it. It also shields against most of the breeze coming in, which is a plus.

As carefully as he can, he manages to shimmy Hood into the little nook after getting his waterlogged jacket off. He looks up at Duke with foggy, unfocused eyes that seem to drift in a haze, but still manage to convey his wariness. Duke holds his hands up placatingly.

“I'm not gonna, uh, hurt you. Don't worry. Figured you didn't want to be left in the water.” He pauses, watching Hood's half-lidded and (slightly glowing?? What the fuck???) teal-green gaze slides over him, which is, frankly, terrifying. He may have not killed in awhile but Duke still remembers the time when this was the guy who was running around Crime Alley putting heads in duffel bags.

But it doesn’t look like he’s planning to do anything like that, seeing as his exhausted gaze then settles on a point in the middle distance. 

Duke lets out a breath he didn't know he was holding. “Okay, so um. I know you're like, injured? But how am I supposed to contact the Bats so they can pick you up? Because, uh, you're the only one that ever comes here.”

Hood's brow furrows at that, a little bit of clarity returning to his eyes. His hands painstakingly slowly drift up to his broken helmet, fingers fumbling with the back of it. Well, that's an exaggeration. His fingers aren't even moving, despite how much he's clearly trying to move them.

“Can you– can you tell me how to take it off? I don't think you're gonna be able to feel your fingers for a while,” Duke explains. Something like defeat crosses Hood's expression, but he relents.

“‘S– ‘s th’ ‘ne–” His words slur together, sounding oddly vulnerable without the voice modulator making everything sound like a menacing drawl. He breathes out a slow, measured breath before continuing. “It's– th’ one up t'p.”

The words are still slurred together, but this time Duke can actually make them out and follow the directions. He waits patiently (considering the circumstances) for the rest of Hood's instructions, breathing out a sigh of relief when the helmet latches unlock and he can work it off the vigilante's head.

Of course, that's immediately washed over with a wave of concern when his whole face is revealed to be nearly covered in blood from the gash across the side of his face the helmet was broken on. Now that he can see both eyes, he can see the pain– no, agony hidden behind that foggy exterior. Based on the constant shivering that wracks his body, Duke would guess that it's irritating whatever injuries are under his suit and making everything worse.

Unfortunately, there's nothing Duke can do about that without Hood taking off his suit, and that sure as shit ain't happening.

What he can do is help him take off the most outer layers he doesn't need right now and drape his coat over him to block out more of the wind and hopefully help him retain some body heat.

“Okay, what am I supposed to do with this?” Duke asks once Hood's a little more situated, holding up the helmet for emphasis.

“Put ‘t on,” Hood murmurs hoarsely. Seriously, what had this guy been doing, gargling broken glass? “B'tt'n ‘n ear.”

Translating that as best he can, Duke slides the helmet on (which is way too big and frankly disgusting due to river water and blood but that's not really the point right now) and taps the button as instructed. A speaker clicks to life, but all there is is crackling static that's slowly fizzling out.

“It's just static. I think your comm might be broken, dude,” Duke informs him helpfully, setting the helmet beside him but under his coat. The ghost of a sardonic smile tugs at the corner of Hood's lips and there's a sharp exhale of breath that might've been a laugh before his blood-covered jaw is clenching and his scant breaths are careful, measured, and cautious. 

This leaves Duke with his thoughts, which are steadily picking up speed as he flips through possibilities. Hood's comm is out, which means there's no way to contact his team that way. Anything else he might’ve had is clearly damaged too much to use, or he would've used it already, and even if it wasn't, he's too far off mentally to answer any questions Duke could ask.

Alright then, time for other methods. How do you get a Bat's attention?

Well, the obvious answer is crime. Issue with that is, Hood's the one who patrols the Narrows. So would that even work? Who would see it?

Duke gasps as he comes to the realization. Oracle! She watches the cameras across the city! Surely if I do something in front of one, then she'll see it and I can get a message across somehow?

He nods to himself, gathering up Hood's ripped-to-shreds leather jacket and folding it over his arm so the red bat symbol is hidden.

“Okay, Hood, I've got a plan, I'll be right back. Just like– stay here, I guess. I'm gonna find a way to talk to Oracle, so she can call your family, or team, or whatever.” 

Everyone knows they're a family, but again, Hood's whole independence thing makes Duke double-guess referring to them as such in front of him though.

Hood just lazily trails his gaze over to fix Duke with a stare, so distanced yet so heavy that despite his condition he's sure the man will hunt him down if he breaks his word. 

Duke just nods again and backs away, racing off to the nearest closed convenience store in the area.

This late at night, it's not hard to find one. He grabs a broken pipe from the alley nearby and smashes the front door in, wincing in preparation for an alarm. Nothing rings out, the night stays just as quiet as it was before.

Yeah, no shit, Duke. It's the fucking Narrows, no one uses alarms here.

He squints at the corners where the wall meets the ceiling, and the ceiling itself for cameras. Speedwalking through the aisles in his search, he pauses when he finds a shitty first aid kit. He grabs it.

The slight noise of mechanical whirring makes Duke's head snap towards the noise. A camera– one of those old, shitty ones– perched right above the doorway slowly turns to face him, to stare right at him, bore into his fucking soul– 

Duke smiles a hysterical smile and runs up to it. The lens follows his movement, zooming out when he's right below it.

“H- Hello? I don't know if you can hear me, Oracle– God, I hope I'm actually talking to Oracle and not just the guy that owns this place– Hood is injured! I found him and hid him somewhere safe, for now, but he's not doing great, so if you could like… send someone to pick him up? I don't know. But I really can't do much for him with the condition he's in?” He holds up the red bat on the jacket and points at the first aid kit, trying to convey the urgency of the situation. “So um– yeah! Please help!”

With that, and a little more gesturing, he runs back to the park with the jacket and the first aid kit, skidding across the grass until he hits the concrete steps. He lets his steps slow as he approaches, trying to avoid startling the infamously trigger-happy vigilante that's hopefully still sheltering in the shadow of that little concrete nook.

Looking around the corner, he's still there, but he's almost entirely bowed as far into the corner as he can get, as if he's trying to hide in it by curling up as tight as he can and becoming part of the shadows. It's… it's a level of vulnerability Duke isn't really comfortable seeing one of the Bats in. It's a stark, painfully clear reminder that the Bats and Birds, as tough as they are, are still probably human.

Although Hood's possibly glowing eyes from earlier might single-handedly disprove that belief. 

Duke pauses a few paces away from the man's curled up (thankfully still shivering) form. The shivers are small, though, the main movement being the shallow rising and falling of his chest and slightly shaking shoulders. His legs are still splayed out awkwardly, despite the way the rest of his body is curled in and shifted onto his side.

Fuck, that's probably not good. The lack of shivering is also probably not good.

Duke sits, half kneeling, and sets the first aid kit down beside him. “Hood? That gash on your face was bleeding a lot when I left, I was hoping you'd let me put some bandages on it?”

Hood flinches, slowly turning his head to look up at Duke. There's definitely a dim glow to his eyes, but they're foggier than before.

Another tally in the “probably not good” box.

“Y'r b'ck,” Hood grunts, just barely loud enough for Duke to hear. 

He nods, opening the kit. “Yeah, said I'd be back. I think Oracle saw me, so hopefully someone is on their way.”

Hood hums, looking slowly between the bandages in Duke's hands and Duke himself before nodding and turning his face up enough that he can put bandages on.

“I'll try to clean it, and it's probably gonna hurt, but hey, at least it'll keep you awake,” Duke jokes halfheartedly, already finding the saline and clean towel from the kit to dab at the massive cut with. Past his opposite eyebrow twitching, Hood doesn't show any reaction to Duke's actions. Just gazing off into the distance, clearly trying his hardest not to pay attention any more than is absolutely needed.

It's just as Duke is securing the gauze pads to the gouge that he hears voices drifting across the wind, coming from the park. Hood seems to zone back in as well, tensing and glancing quickly around.

“I'll go check it out, it might be them,” Duke whispers, trying to reassure him. He only furrows a brow, but doesn't try– or rather, probably can't try– to stop him.

He, as quietly as he can, sneaks over to the top of the concrete bench stairs, scanning the park for the source of the voices. His eyes land on two shadows around the edge of it that seem to be bickering? He sees red and black on one of them, and purple on the other. He can't make out what they're saying at this distance, but their walk looks strange. Less like a walk, more like they're gliding along.

Or like capes are obscuring their legs.

Duke grins, jumping up and running over to them. It becomes very apparent very quickly that the two forms are Red Robin and Spoiler. Both become guarded and suspicious when Duke approaches, but he stays a respectable distance away.

“Hood's over here, there wasn't anywhere else I could get him to since he can't walk,” Duke explains, running back to the nook with them.

“Why can't he walk?” Red Robin asks quickly. Duke shrugs.

“I don't know, man. I just know I had to drag his heavy ass over here and he hasn't moved, really.”

Spoiler swears when she rounds the corner, kneeling beside Hood's head and moving it into her lap.

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

“Oi, Alley, you in there?”

Jason grunts a vague affirmative, weakly glaring up at her through the haze of pain clouding his vision. Steph smiles, carding a gloved hand through his hair while being careful to avoid the bandages on his face. It's strained, but it's not like anyone can see that behind the half mask she wears. 

“B's en route,” Tim announces, stopping beside the two of them. He glances back at the kid who led them here. “Thanks for pulling him out. We've got him from here.”

“Yeah, just– I don't know how long he was in the water for, and I don't think he's shivering as much as he used to be. And he's got pieces of metal or something stuck in him. Just be careful?”

“We will,” Tim assures. The kid nods and walks off, wringing his hands nervously. Steph doesn't pay him much attention, trusting Tim to keep watch until he leaves. Only then does he kneel beside Jason as well, gently feeling around for his injuries. It's easy to tell when he finds them, seeing as Jason's too exhausted to keep his face under control now.

“Dislocated hips, injured ribs, but I can't tell how bad or how many with his armor in the way. Definitely hypothermia, heart rate and breathing is slow and wheezing,” Tim reports. “Scattered shrapnel from the explosion, doesn't seem like it hit anything vital.”

“Keep him awake, ETA one minute,” Batman responds.

“Robin and I will be heading back shortly,” Dick cuts in. “Don't look at me like that, this is prime family cuddle pile time.”

Cass hums an agreement. “Will prepare theater.”

“See, she gets it. Cmon, babybat. Time to skeddadle.”

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

The rest of the night is spent with Jason at the center of the family cuddle pile, much to his chagrin once he wakes up. Tim and Bruce berate him for his recklessness, he deflects, the cycle continues.

In the end, though, he gets his allotted family cuddle pile time and isn't even upset in the moment because he's (figuratively) dead to the world.

Bruce doesn't much appreciate the joke when Steph makes it.

[july-19th-club]

first thing i do with any baru book is read the entire table of contents and book three has like ten more stories about ash YES yes yes AND it ends with a chapter titled 'the lightning in the east' YES YES YES finally we get to go out there and see what horrible stuff is in the frightening zone yessssssssssssssssssssssssss

[thinkinonsense]

DESIRE ୨୧

logan howlett x mutant!reader

cw: flirty, slightly nsfw

a/n: this was heavily inspired by that scene in the first suicide squad movie where they introduce harley quinn.

"we should all split up before someone finds us." storm tells her team mates as the break into the building.

inside were mutants of all kinds, being hidden and tested on. it was charles plan for the team to get as many as possible and bring them back to the mansion before they can cause any damage.

on the surface, it seemed simple enough. they have done this mission a million times. little did they know that an unspeakable danger awaited them in the basement of the old building.

everyone split up, storm went to the west wing while scott and jean went to the east. logan found his way downstairs, assuming that maybe he could find whoever was running the show here.

beyond the high security metal doors, he can hear the faint sound of an old record playing. the closer he got, the clearer it sounded. nancy sinatra? maybe? logan wasn't quite sure but he figured it was a trap so, he prepared himself for whatever was on the other side.

Way down along the stream

How sweet it will seem

Once more just to dream

In the moonlight

My honey, I know (I know) with the dawn

That you will be gone

But tonight

You belong to me

revealed on the other side is a large metal cage fit for a wild animal. inside was a girl swinging upside down from a line of tied material with her body in an obscene position.

"i've told you before, david..." your voice was angelic to logan's ears. light as a feather. "i don't like to be disturbed after 7."

"i'm not david, princess." logan said, stepping out of the shadows right as your eyes open.

logan's eyes scan over your scandalous appearance. tiny dirty white shorts and matching tight tank top, apparently whoever runs this prison doesn't allow bras either. you twirl down from near the top of the cage until your face to face with the man on the other side.

"who are you, then?" you ask, looking up at him as you hold onto the bars.

"i'm here to get you out of this cage." he says, unleashing his claws, ready to cut through the bars.

"hold it, baby." you purr, reaching out to touch his sharp claws. "don't you wanna play with me?"

"no, we need to leave."

"why should i leave with you? how do i know that you won't put me in another cage?"

even with a slightly dirty face, rings of lavender circles under your eyes, and dried blood on the corner of your bottom lip, logan still thought you were gorgeous. slightly intimidated by your fearlessness to reach out and touch his claws. he imagines that you had seen worse than this.

"tryin' to save you" he grunts.

"i wouldn't picture you as the prince charming type." you giggle, running your fingers up his hairy, veiny, strong arm over the black latex suit.

"i'm not."

logan glares down at you in a way that makes you want to jump his bones. what? it gets lonely being trapped in a cage all by yourself. plus it's not everyday that a handsome stranger wants to help you escape.

suddenly, you grab logan's palm, circling it as your eyes roll back to a dark green shade.

"tell me what you want to do with me." you demand.

this was the moment logan understood why you were held in a cage down in the basement. suddenly, logan's mind feels as if it's being bended and twisting, forcing every ounce of truth out of him.

"we are here to take the mutants to charles xavier's school for gifted youngsters." his voice sounded robotic under your spell.

"charles xavier?"

in a rush of excitement, you release logan from your threshold. he wants to bark at you for invading his mind but seeing you smile made him reconsider.

"so, you've heard of him?" logan raises a brow at you, watching as you hold his hand sweetly.

"of course i have." you answer tracing shapes on the back of his palm. "i've seen him in my visions. been waitin' on him."

visions? what kind of mutant are you? logan asked himself as you spoke.

"too bad i didn't see you in them, though." you sigh, batting your long lashes at him. "wish i had. could've bought us some time to... well, you know."

the teasing flirty tone made logan's cock stir under the tight latex. he felt this overwhelming desire for you fill his head.

"hm... we should focus on getting you out of here first, huh, princess?" he tilts his head to the side, amused by you. "step back."

you obey, walking backwards near your rope. in the blink of an eye, logan cuts through the bars and bends them out enough for him to help you get out. loud flashing sirens go off, slightly startling the two of you.

"guards." you warn him. "they're coming."

logan turns around, claws bare to anyone coming towards the two of you. he steps in front of you, ready to protect like a guard dog. it was quite cute of him, you think. the moment the guards burst in, logan starts attacking, stabbing them ruthlessly.

you allow him to take out a few one by one but as more poured in, you stepped in. your eyes roll back into the same shade of green as a hand raises, some of them fall to their hand and knees, shifting into dogs others were being strangled until they looked blue in the face.

logan couldn't believe it. the only mutant that he thought could rivaled your powers was jean. the room fell quiet except for the record echoing as it replayed.

"it's my favorite song, you know?" you grin as if nothing happened.

"old soul, huh?" logan asked with an eyebrow raised.

"witches are timeless, sugar." you wink, extending your hand for him to take.

logan hesitates but knows he has to get the two of you out of here alive. one look into your starry eyes and he's a goner. logan takes your hand and leads you to the jet, knowing he will never hear the end of it from his teammates.

[chunghasweetie]

𝐖𝐎𝐍’𝐓 𝐓𝐎𝐔𝐂𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐌𝐄 | J.JK

— part 1

— pairing | fem!oc x dealer!jjk

— summary | after a petty argument jungkook spots you showing out at a party with the hosts arm around your waist

— warning | bad writing (i’m doing my best)

unprotected sex, toxic fwb, lots cursing, jealousy, angst, ratchet behavior, dirty talk, angry sex, belittling, drinking, smoking🍃, womanizer behavior, breeding kink, both 🚩🚩 , daddy kink, degrading, slapping (face), false accusations, double standards

— word count | 6.2k words

— song suggestion | love you like me — william singe

He was blocked once again.

He didn’t even know for what this time.

Well, he had a good idea.

Running his mouth again. They always argued and he was always blocked and unblocked.

This time he think he actually irritated you.

“Goddamnit Y/n.” He cursed. He pissed you off once again but now his number and his Instagram was both blocked by you.

For some reason this time irked him more than the others.

“You’re still stressing over that girl?” Jimin plopped on the couch next to him.

“I can’t believe you still fuckin on her.” Taehyung walked in, taking a seat on the couch too.

“That’s my girl ya’ll know that.” Jungkook bit his lip, staring at his blank phone screen.

“You need to get like how you used to. 3 or more at a time. Always.” Jimin spoke, “You used to be like that. You used to make fun of guys like you. Now you’re giving out free shit to some girl.”

“I mean he does get pussy from it but like, only her bro?” Taehyung looked at Jungkook. “You used to have all these girls on you. Stephanie, Nari, Seunghee, Belle, Maya… What happened to you man?”

Jungkook thought about what they said. “Shits just different now.”

“Oh my gosh she’s ruined you.” Jimin groaned. “Nah man. We’re going to a Jackson party.”

“He’s having a party?” Jungkook looked up from his phone. “Why haven’t I heard anything about it?”

“Because you’re too busy stressin’ about some bitch.” Jimin shook his head.

Before Jungkook could correct him, Jimin corrected himself. “Some girl. Before you start.”

“Anyway, it’s tonight.” Taehyung spoke.

“So bring whatever cash you got and we’re definitely gonna send you home with a girl or two.” Jimin swung his arm around his shoulder.

“Oh shit I think she’s posting about you Jeon!” Taehyung was on her phone, immediately making Jungkook’s head snap over.

“Really?!”

“No man.” He laughed. “We really gotta get you more girls. You need more pussy than just her.”

“Yeah, no more Y/n.” Jimin shook his head.

“Whatever.”

༊—

“I’m so jealous.” Seungyeon swooned over the text messages on your phone.

“I don’t see why. This looks annoying as hell.” Elkie rolled her eyes.

Jungkook🍃

Wyd

Lemme come over

I got shit for you and your friends

Omg fucking answer

You’re mad annoying

I ain’t even mean what I said fr just reply 😭

“I think it’s cute. And hilarious.” Seungyeon chuckled. “What made you block him this time?”

“He was bragging about how many girls he sells to. How they’re all pretty and thick as hell. So I just said ‘cool’ and blocked him.” You shrugged.

You and your friends had been getting ready for hours for a Jackson Wang party they had personally been invited to.

“You better not hope he doesn’t pull up tonight.” Elkie spoke.

“Yeah Y/n. Taehyung’s going and I’m sure they’ll try to convince him.” Seungyeon told her.

“He’s probably too busy getting high in his room.” Elkie replied. “Or selling in the east side.”

“Wouldn’t doubt it.” You shook your head. “I kinda do wish he would be there though.”

“Is his dick really that good?” Elkie asked you as she was baking her makeup.

“Unfortunately it is. Like, real good.” You started to get flashbacks.

“Here she goes.” Seungyeon rolled her eyes.

“He fucks me sooo good yall don’t get it.” You began. “Even though he’s annoying and shit I’ve never had dick like his. Once we started recording our shit I can’t stop rewatching.”

“You aren’t worried he’ll show people?” Elkie asked.

“They’re all on my phone. He only has a few. Even if he does show his homeboys it’s whatever. He’s damn near louder than me anyway.” You told her.

Your phone went off, making you look over at it to see the notification.

kplug🍃 has added you on Snapchat

“Oh my gosh.” You said out loud, immediately making the girls look over.

“He fucking added you on Snapchat!” Elkie laughed out loud, “He’s crazy”

“And on his plug account?” Seungyeon’s eyes widened. “He’s obsessed.•

“What can I say? This pussy makes him insane.” You jokingly boasted.

“Did you add him back?” Seungyeon asked.

“Nah not yet. I’ll wait until I’m almost done getting ready.” You tossed your phone on your bed.

“Yeah that’ll be better.” Elkie nodded.

“Ugh I need to hurry anyway. I’m tryna look good tonight.” You groaned, looking at your barely half done makeup.

No matter what it was, you loved to look good. You were a confident woman who took pride in her appearance.

Tonight mattered. You hadn’t took good pictures in quite some time and Jackson’s party was the best place to take them at.

You had just changed up your hair last night. You had a brown base with blonde highlights. And for tonight you decided to add gold and bronze tinsel to elevate your look.

Your friends always had the same energy, wanting to look as good as they could even if it was a simple occasion.

Seungyeon and Elkie definitely showed out with you tonight.

You all had skimpier outfits on tonight. You were a low cut brown latex top with a matching black mini skirt.

Your heels were black and the strings wrapped up around your mid calf. You sprayed your expensive perfume all over, making sure you smelt as good as you looked.

Your makeup was finally done for the night and it couldn’t have looked better. You looked incredible.

The girls had taken some pre party pics in your room, posting on all social media.

“Oh Y/n! Add him back.” Seungyeon told you.

You nodded, adding Jungkook back on Snapchat.

“He’s gonna see all our videos at the party. He’s gonna regret saying all that shit to you.” Elkie laughed. “Gonna see so many dudes all up on you and start punching walls and shit.”

“He probably already is and we haven’t even left the house yet.” Seungyeon laughed with her. “The pictures we posted right now are enough to make him tear his hair out.”

“Damn right.” You giggled. “Yall got everything? I’m about to order the Uber.”

Both girls nodded, making sure they had everything they needed.

kplug🍃 just sent you a snap

You looked at the notification, “Hm.” You hummed to yourself, not opening his snap quite yet.

Once the uber pulled up all of the girls climbed in, taking more pictures in the backseat on the drive there.

You lived in a nice area, but nothing compared to Jackson’s place.

The location was one of his many homes,

“Jackson lives so far from us.” Elkie looked at the map on her phone.

“Yeah but his area is so nice. It’s worth it.” Seungyeon added. “I wonder how many people are gonna be there.”

“Girl you know it’s gonna be so packed we gonna have to get dropped off damn near a mile away.” You laughed.

“You better hope Jungkook doesn’t show up.” Elkie looked over at you, who was just opening his snap.

The snap was him a car, sitting in a car full of tackily dressed women right corner of him. One of the girls was taking the picture for him.

“I should’ve just shut up.” Elkie covered her mouth. “They’re definitely going.”

“He’s petty as hell!” Seungyeon looked over at your screen. “What does he expect you to say to that?”

“Probably nothing.” Y/n turned off the phone. “He wants to be like that he can go right ahead.”

“You’re so cool about it.” Seungyeon looked at her in amazement. “I would’ve went batshit crazy.”

“I’m not trippin because I’m not holding back at this party.” She laughed.

༊—

“Why would you guys do me like this?”

“You’re so dramatic.” Jimin rolled his eyes. “We found you a car full of girls to take to the party and you’re complaining.”

“Didn’t ask for it. Y’all make me look like a charity case. I could’ve gotten plenty at Jackson’s.”

“Whatever.” Taehyung rolled his eyes. “You know how much play she’s gonna get there? And you’re gonna have to watch it alllll.”

“Yeah man. You’re gonna have to watch all sorts of dudes kissing up on her and shit. You’re gonna look like a bitch.” Jimin added.

“Exactly. So let us help you bro.” Taehyung smiled. “Come on it’ll be worth it. Plus, you look great man. She’ll be unblocking you in no time.”

Jungkook and the boys got in the car full of women, instantly leeching onto them.

“Hello ladies” Jimin greeted, buckling up.

“Hiii Jiminnn” They replied in union, almost fighting to talk to him.

One of them turned to Jungkook, immediately biting her lip. “Hey Kookie.”

“Hey Oliver.” He exhaled.

“It’s Olivia” She laughed. “You’re like— so funny!” Her annoying voice rang in his ears.

“Oh— my bad.”

The girls had tried talking Jungkook the entire ride there, trying to get him to open up and talk to them.

“Ouuu look at his phone.” One of the girls motioned.

“Omg look!” One was quick to snatch his phone, “He added Y/n on Snapchat, let’s send her something!”

“You guys should!” Taehyung added.

“No one needs to do that!” Jungkook tried to take it back but they already snapped pictures and sent them to Y/n on his phone.

Olivia passed the phone to Taehyung who kept repeating ‘give it to me’

“Taehyung what the hell!”

“It’s for your own good!” Taehyung held onto his phone for the rest of the ride there.

༊—

“Yep. I’m definitely gonna get sloppy drunk.” Seungyeon announced as they walked inside Jackson’s party.

“There’s no way you won’t. This shits fucking cool.” Elkie looked around the home.


People everywhere and the music was booming in all corners. Girls dancing damn near naked on tables and guys dancing around with empty shot glasses.

“Oh my gosh they’re here!” One of the guys accidentally said a bit too loud, making some heads turn towards the girls.

“Seungyeon come dance with us!”

“Y/n come on we already have shots for you!”

“Elkie come get on the table with us!”

Multiple people were trying to holler at them in attempt to get their attention.

“Yeah it’ll be hard to stay sober tonight.” Elkie laughed.

“Uh huh. And when Taehyung gets here I’m dipping.” Seungyeon giggled.

“You’re still fucking with him?!” Both girls snapped their heads.

“Y’all don’t get it! He is soooo fine whenever he talks to me I just wanna do whatever the hell he wants.” Seungyeon swooned.

“She can’t be serious.” Elkie looked at you. “So let me get this straight. You’re fucking on Taehyung and you’re fucking on Jungkook. Should I just dance with Jimin tonight? Since we’re the three musketeers all of a sudden.”

“Okay Jungkook was an accident!” You defended. “You wanted weed didn’t you!”

“Cut the crap! It was one time” Elkie shook her head. “I can’t believe you two.”

“Whatever.” Seungyeon rolled her eyes. “You should go with me when I go talk to Taehyung. Omg! We can all hang out tonight!”

“Uh, did you forget we’re not on the best terms?” You interrupted her fantasy.

“You never are. Get over it.” Seungyeon rolled her eyes. “Elkie pleaseeee.”

“I can’t believe you.” Elkie kept shaking her head. “You guys are sick.”

“Who’s sick?” A voice interrupted them. “I don’t need any illness spreading around at my party.”

“Omg Jackson!” Seungyeon gasped.

“Hey ladies. Hey Y/n.” He gave you a side hug. “I knew you guys would come showing out.”

“Always. You know us.” Elkie giggled.

Jackson knew the girls very well. They’ve been around since his early party days, helping him promote and build up his status for the parties.

You always went above and beyond for him, offering to even financially support the parties during the time.

Now Jackson was so rich his party budget skyrocketed. All because of those girls he was able to be where he was now. He was more than grateful.

“I know. I shouldn’t have expected any less.” He chuckled, “I’ll tell the security upstairs about yall so don’t sweat anything okay?”

“You got new security?” You questioned him.

“Fuck yeah I did. Last party the security was too drunk to even do their fucking job. I was pissed.” Jackson shook his head.

“Everything’s all good now though,” He continued. “Gotta nice new set up and it’ll do y’all real good. I promise you won’t be disappointed. You ladies have fun, okay?”

“Thank you Jackson.” The three girls bid their goodbyes. They didn’t expect to speak to him for long, especially since he was running a huge party.

“Let’s hang out down here for a bit and then make our way up yeah?” You suggested, earning a nod from the girls.

“Unless it’s too hard for Seungyeon to keep herself away from Taehyungie” Elkie teased her.

“Oh my gosh I hate you.” Seungyeon groaned.

“Speaking of Taehyungie,” You eyes behind her. “Here comes the man of the hour now.”

“With a shit ton of girls at that.”

Seungyeon snapped her head his way. “Oh my gosh.”

“Don’t look!” Elkie turned her attention. “Act unbothered. You can’t let him know you care. Like Y/n when Jungkook calls!”

“Yeah— Okay whatever.” You rolled your eyes. “But she’s right. He’s with hella girls. He’s not thinking about you right now. You can’t act like you’re waiting for him.”

“Look at you miss love expert.” Elkie teased you. “Let’s get you drinking Seungyeon.”

“Yes! Let’s drink! Finally.” You clapped your hands.

The girls walked off to the bar, plenty of people wanting to take shots with them.

The girls played a few drinking games and partied on tables just like the girls before you.

It would be a lie to say Jungkook’s eyes weren’t locked on you.

It was just him, Taehyung, and Jungkook in their own little section, a few guys coming up to talk to them here and there.

“Oh my gosh I hate you guys.” Jimin groaned. “Taehyung you can’t do this to me too.”

“She’s so bad Jimin. I’m almost as bad as Jeon.” Taehyung stared down Seungyeon.

“I thought you wanted to drown yourself in pussy! You were hyping me and Jungkook up earlier!”

“I’m a big fat liar okay!” Taehyung folded.

Seungyeon and you were both dancing on tables, lost in your own little world with drinks in your hands.

Jungkook hadn’t said anything in a minute. Simply staring.

Damn did you show out.

He watched as many guys threw themselves at you, begging you to come down so they could have a piece.

What could he expect? You were a beautiful woman blessed with a body others would pay millions for. You could actually dance and you had looks that could kill.

You were a heavily desirable woman. Especially at a party like this where everyone knew of you.

He knew you weren’t gonna go home with any of these guys. None of them stood a chance.

He didn’t understand how he had one if he was honest.

The way you two started— having intercourse was wild and random. Just a random string of flirty led to you giving it up for him.

Goddamnit he missed you. It was a petty argument like usual. Him getting blocked just to get unblocked in the morning.

This time bothered him more than the others. Especially seeing you like this.

“Shoutout to these lovely ladies right here!” Jackson suddenly announced, all three girls surrounding him.

“My day ones right here” He said proudly.

Jackson wrapped his arm around your waist, pecking your cheek.

Interesting.

Jungkook hadn’t realized you two had become so close.

Was he the reason Jungkook wasn’t unblocked yet?

“Especially Ms. Y/n here. Shit would not be possible without her.” He spoke, making everyone cheer. “Everyone treat them well tonight alright?”

Elkie and Seungyeon cheered before Jackson walked off, finishing his announcement.

Why would it not be possible without you?

None of it made sense to Jungkook.

He downed a shot, hissing at the aftermath. It made Jimin look over.

“Someone’s mad.”

“Shut up.” Jungkook huffed. “I have no reason to be.”

The girls were laughing together and drinking a bit more.

Seungyeon kept stealing glances at Taehyung.

“Oh my gosh. She’s going insane.” Elkie pointed out Seungyeon’s constant tabs on Taehyung.

“Alright we’re going upstairs.” You motioned both girls to follow you to the next story.

“Jimin we have to follow them.” Taehyung watched as they left to go upstairs.

The man rolled his eyes.

Jungkook looked over, seeing Jackson look over that way too.

“Yeah.” Jungkook opened up his mouth. “Let’s go.”

The boys shortly followed them, heading upstairs.

This level was just as intense as the first floor. The only difference was that these people smoked a bit more than they drank.

“So many bad bitches in here.” Jimin looked around. “Nice move Tae.”

“Man who cares? Where the hell is she?” Taehyung looked over.

“Goddamnit.” Jimin cursed, forced to walk over to your friend group with Taehyung.

Jungkook wasn’t too thrilled either. Especially because he didn’t know how you were going to be like.

“Hey Seungyeon.” Taehyung approached her, making her instantly turn her head.

Poor girl had been waiting for that man to talk to her all night.

“Oh. Hey.” She kept it short, just like you and Elkie told her to.

“Let me get you and your girl friends some more drinks yeah?” He offered, making it harder to fight and say no.

“Please.” She caved in, making everyone follow them to the bar.

“Fucking great.” Jimin mumbled.


It was awkward as hell. Two odd couples and two random friends all forced to hang out together.

All because of Seungyeon and Taehyung.

Taehyung got all of them drinks like he said, everyone drinking together to ease up a bit.

Taehyung and Seungyeon were lost in their own conversation.

They were so corny it was making everyone extremely nauseous.

“Are you proud of her?” Jimin shook his head, speaking to Elkie. “Your friend single-handedly ruined my friend group.”

“My friend? Your boy here started it all.” She argued.

“Like hell he did. She took advantage of him.” He told her.

She laughed. “Who’s the one who’s supposed to just drop the shit off and go?”

“You can’t blame a man for just tryna get some.” Jimin shrugged. “Not his fault.”

“You’re delusional.” Elkie rolled her eyes.

“I like how you speak to me. You wanna go make out?”

“Sure.” Elkie shrugged, walking off with Jimin.

You’ve got to be kidding me.

You were alone with Jungkook.

“So,” You began to speak. “Which girl in the car was your favorite?”

“Is that seriously how you’re gonna start this?” Jungkook stared you down.

“Hell yeah.” You chuckled. “You’re a fucking prick. You’re childish and you’re just down right stupid. Sending me some photo of some bitches. Made you feel so good being with other girls huh?”

Started off strong already.

“You know what, it did. They didn’t have a fucking loud mouth like you do. Didn’t have to hear a bunch of bullshit every two seconds.”

“See this is exactly why you’re blocked.” You scoffed. “You’re a dick.”

“You block me all the time mama.” He shrugged nonchalantly. “Doesn’t mean shit.”

“Probably doesn’t mean anything because you’re too busy with all those other bitches.”

“Me? I’m not the one fucking the party host.” He argued back.

Your eyes widened at the accusation. “Oh wow.”

You weren’t going to deny it.

It wasn’t true. You never slept with Jackson.

But Jungkook thinking that you did was enough to satisfy you.

“We’ll come back to that.” Jungkook poked the inside of his mouth with his tongue.

He was obviously very irritated.

“You’re always so angry.” You groaned.

“Because you just manage to strike that one nerve.” He shook his head.

“You’re so aggressive all the time baby.” You eased him. “Let’s drink some more. Please?”

He shook his head. “Trying to sober up. Someone needs to take you home.”

“I can Uber back.”

“By yourself?” He scoffed. “Fuck no. Your friends are long gone and most likely gonna end up going home with Jimin and Tae. Who can’t drive.”

He wasn’t wrong.

Elkie and Seungyeon were going to town on them. The couples were drunken messes.

You agreed, continuing to drink. You two talked for a bit, somewhat civilly.

The both of you couldn’t help but check each other out.

For you, that alcohol came in through your mouth and went straight to your pussy.

Jungkook’s going straight to his dick. Probably why you two always had sex whenever you hung out.

“Let’s go to Jimin’s car.” Jungkook mumbled lowly to you, making you nod.

Jungkook lets out a low whistle as you walk next to him. He couldn't help but stare at your body.

You were so fucking beautiful, he thought to himself.

The car was a bit far from the entrance. The lot was big so the parking was a bit inconvenient.

However, it was hidden well enough.

He opened the backseat car door for you, waiting for you to get in.

You could sense he was still irritated with you. It was written all over his face and you could sense it in his body language.

His anger and irritation had the opposite effect on you, making your pussy wetter than it already was.

Jungkook started the car, letting out a heavy sigh as he pulled out of the parking lot.

He glanced over at you, his eyes scanning over your body. "You know, you make me so fucking angry sometimes..." He growled, his hand reaching over to grab your thigh.

“It’s not my fault. You started it this time.” You shook your head.

"I didn't start shit," Jungkook retorted, his eyes narrowing at you. "You did. You always fucking do."

He couldn't help but get more and more irritated with you.

The idea of you and Jackson weighed heavy on him.

You were fucking Jungkook for weed. Were you fucking Jackson for drinks and party invites?

“You did last night. That’s exactly why I blocked your ass. Always running your mouth.”

Jungkook's fingers tightened around the steering wheel. He couldn't believe you just said that. "You didn't have to block me. You’re so fucking dramatic."

He snapped at you, his anger getting the best of him. "I fucking hate you sometimes."

“Fine. Just drop me off right here then.” You replied, just as irritated with him now. “I’ll fucking walk home.”

“You're not fucking walking anywhere. I'll take you home." He gritted his teeth.

“Whatever. Just drive me home and you can just get rid of me after. Since that’s what you want so bad.” You folded your arms.

He couldn't believe how much of a stubborn girl you were, but he still couldn't help feeling attracted to you. Even when you were like this. "Why are you so fucking difficult?"

He glared at you for a moment before turning his attention back to the road.

“I’m not even doing anything.” You grabbed your purse once he pulled up to your place.

It was natural for Jungkook to let himself in. He did so again, despite their arguing.

“I thought you would approach me at the party to apologize. But no, you’re just arguing with me because you’re jealous of some guy!” You huffed.

Jungkook scoffed at your words. "Jealous? Fuck no. I just don't like seeing you with other guys, that's it."

“Yeah whatever.” You rolled your eyes, “You’re annoying. Your stupid pride won’t let you just admit it.”

You lifted up the couch cushion, a small bag of pre rolls packed away.

“You know what? Fine. I was jealous when I saw you with Jackson. Are you happy now? I fucking admitted it.

“Gonna fucking smoke with me or what?” She looked at him, ignoring him. “Got your two favorite things right here. Weed and arguing.”

He ignored her, grabbing his own preroll and lighting it up with her lighter.

“That’s all you’re gonna say?” He scoffed.

“Do you want a fucking cookie? Congrats, you actually told me the truth for once.” She took a few hits. “So you were jealous”

“Yeah, I fucking was. I don't like seeing you with other guys Y/n. It makes me want to rip their fucking heads off." He chuckled and shook his head. "Especially him.”

“Isn’t Jackson your homeboy?”

“Exactly. Why the fuck would I want to be fucking on the same girl as my bro? That makes me look like a fucking loser.” He glared at you.

“We were just catching up. We’ve known each other for mad long.” You defended.

Jungkook couldn't help but stare at you as you took a hit from the roll. He felt a surge of jealousy, but he tried to push it down.

"Just fucking catchin' up huh? With his bitch ass?" He chuckled and shook his head. "I know what kinda guy he is.”

“I know you’re not talking. Tell me, Jungkook. How many girls do you sell to that don’t pay cash? Too busy selling with their bodies.” She looked at him.

“Yeah? You’re gonna fucking start this shit again?” He chuckled, anger written all over his face. “I’ve told you the same shit over and over Y/n. I’m not fucking anyone else but you.”

“Car full of sleezy bitches all climbing on you? Yeah okay. Find that fucking hard to believe.

Jungkook understands your skepticism. Especially with the type of guys he hung around.

“Tell me this Jungkook.” You began, “How come it’s an issue when I’m with Jackson but when you’re with all these other girls I’m just supposed to believe you.”

Jungkook leaned in, his expression more serious now. He muttered. “I don’t want to do you like that.”

"I just get fucking pissed when I see other guys trying to fuck what's mine." He cocked his eyebrow.

“You’re annoying.”

Jungkook's gaze never left yours face as you rolled your eyes. He could tell you were irritated with him, but he didn't back down.

"I'm annoying cause I don't like seeing other guys around my girl?" He raised an eyebrow.

“Don’t like all these fucking guys tryna hop on you.” His eyes darkened as he stared down at you.

“I get it.” She sighed.

“Mm I don’t think you do.” He shook his head.

Jungkook turned you around, pushing you against the couch. "Fuck you piss me off. You’re just so fucking sexy" He growled, pinning your hands above your head.

"You're gonna let me fuck you like this?” He looked at you. “Because I’m fucking angry. And I’m not sure I’ll be able to give you that slow and lovey shit right now.”

You simply nodded. You swallowed hard, knowing exactly what was going to happen.

Weed made you horny.

Alcohol made you horny.

And you were definitely cross faded.

“Fucking open your mouth.” He moved his hand, now slapping you across your cheek.

It wasn’t enough to really hurt, but enough to leave a sting.

He seen your facial expression change. “No way. You actually like that shit?”

You two always had rough and angry sex. With the amount of times you two pissed each other off, it was like second nature.

This time was different. Jungkook was livid.

“I do.” You swallowed. “N-No condom tonight please.”

This was the first time ever. You never thought those words would ever leave your lips.

You needed it bad tonight. Real bad.

“Oh wow.” He laughed sarcastically. “You’re that sick? You get onto me every fucking day for asking to hit it raw. Now you want to?”

He almost couldn’t believe it. “Letting me toss you around like a fucking ragdoll. He fucking teach you about that shit?”

“N-No Jungkook.”

He slapped you once again. “Don’t fucking lie to me.”

“I promise. He didn’t.” You pleaded.

Jungkook let out a deep breath, knowing you submitted to him.

He moved his hand to your neck, squeezing enough for you to feel.

“Fucking embarrassing me.” He slid his pants down. “Got all my fucking friends talking about you. That what you wanted?”

“N-No.” You swallowed.

He slipped your skirt up, sliding your panties to the side.

He forcefully pushed himself inside, giving you not a single warning. “You let him fuck you raw did you?”

Staying still for a moment, knowing he would soon start fucking you with all the frustration he had in him.

“N-No I didn’t Jungkook.” You honestly replied.

“Not my fucking name.” He warned.

“You clearly wanted his attention Y/n. You think I ain’t notice that shit today?” His grip on your neck got slightly tighter.

“Changed your hair. Spending money to look good for him. Didn’t look in my fucking direction once. Get some new dick and you forget what you already have? Forgot about daddy’s dick?” He scoffed.

Jungkook's thrusts became more powerful, as he let out all the anger and jealousy he felt towards Jackson.

“T-That’s not what I—“

Jungkook's grip tightened on your hips, as he started thrusting. "Shut the fuck up Y/n." He grumbled, as he started pounding harder.

He smacked your ass, leaving a red mark. "Didn’t think you’d be this fuckin’ tight. Figured he stretched this pussy out.”

“H-He didn’t”

“You really have the fucking guys to speak to me right now?” He slapped her.

“Mmph— sorry daddy”

Jungkook grinned, hearing the slight tremble in your voice.

You couldn’t help but be turned on by how angry he was. How degrading he spoke to you.

Him expressing how jealous he was of Jackson definitely did a number on you.

"This.. is all yours, Y/n. It always has been." He slapped your face. "Don't.. you dare fuckin' look at him again. Don’t you fuckin’

dare question if I’m with other bitches or not.”

“Won’t— promise Daddy” She apologized.

Jungkook's expression changed to an angered confusion, as you apologized. "Sorry? You think.. You fuckin' deserve my mercy?"

He hissed as he stopped thrusting, grabbed you and forced you on all four. "I'll show you fuckin' sorry."

“You're mine to fuck. Mine to spoil. Mine to hug. Mine to love.” He grabbed your hair and pulled it back, as he started thrusting hard again. "And you just fucking gave that away?”

“No I— Daddy no I didn’t.” You whimpered.

Jungkook's thrusts became more violent as his anger continued to fuckin boil. "You.. You fuckin' slut," He growled and smacked your ass hard once again.

“D-Didn’t fuck him.” You confessed, swallowing. “N-Never fucked him.”

Jungkook stopped thrusting, his expression was furious, he looked at you with pure shock.

"You didn't fuck him?" He repeated between gritted teeth, not entirely sure if he should believe you or not. “Are you serious?”

“N-Never fucked him.” She hit her lip.

“So you lied?” His voice was low.

“I just never denied anything you said.” She confessed, a bit ashamed now that she was confessing out loud.

"Wow Y/n." He murmured lowly, making a pause in his thrusts, as he looked at you with confusion and shock. "And you made me do all this.”

“I-“ She felt her stomach drop.

Jungkook scoffed and shook his head in disbelief. He was still holding you by the throat, a little tighter now as his cock started to thrust intensely again. "Yeah, you did.”

Jungkook grunted, his thrusts became louder and more intense, holding you tighter. "You're a fucking slut.."

He whispered in a low voice, his hand starting to squeeze around your throat. He pulled himself out a bit to slap your face.

“Pulled all that just for some dick? Seriously Y/n?” He grunted into your ear.

“So sorry Daddy” She apologized softly, the sensual nickname slipping from her lips.

Upon hearing you call him "Daddy" his thrusts became more intense. Hearing it made him weak everytime.

A low growl sounded out from his throat again as your body was pushed back onto the bed with each thrust deeper into you.

He snickered, his hand reaching down to slap your ass cheek, hard. "You're a fucking whore.." He moans, his thrusts are so hard that he's smacking against your body. He leaned in to bite your neck.

“Finally got the dick you wanted? I can’t fucking believe you pulled that shit.” He grunted, utterly shocked. “Can’t fucking believe you did that.”

His thrusts became even more forceful, each hard smack against your ass echoing around you.

He moans as he bites into your shoulder, teeth grinding into your skin angrily. "Why'd you fucking lie to me?" He growls into your ear.

“Wanted you— Wanted your attention.” She whimpered. “Wanted to see how you felt.”

“Yeah? That’s how you fuckin’ wanted me to confess?” He roars out angrily, his grip tightening almost painfully.

“I-It worked…” She boldly whispered.

His glare is fire as he grabs your throat, pulling you back to look into your eyes.

"You like it when I get tell you how I feel? You fuckin’ like it?” He growls out, squeezing your throat tighter for a moment before letting go.

“I liked it Daddy” She bit her lip.

His jaw almost cracks from the intensity of his teeth grinding as he hears your response.

He begins to fuck you harder, losing his anger and going into a frenzy. "You’re so fucking lucky I love to abuse this pussy.”

“Shit feels so fuckin’ good Daddy— Fuck” She cursed repeatedly.

A low groan rips from his throat, feeling your walls squeezing around him at your curse. He liked when you talked dirty. “So fucking pretty like this.”

“Lying about other dudes is different for you baby..” He huffed. “You love this dick huh baby? Tell me.”

“Yes Daddy— I fuckin’ do.” You nodded quickly.

He leans back down, biting at your bottom lip and nodding.

"That's right, you love this dick, mama. Fucking take it then." He spoke lowly, encouraging you to get more vocal and naughty while he pounds into you.

“Feels so much fucking better raw.” She rolled her eyes back. “Should’ve fucking let you months ago.”

He lets out a growl, feeling how tight your walls are on him with no condom. He nods, agreeing and liking the feeling of you raw.

"That's right mama. You ain’t believe me when I said you were the only one. Should’ve been let me hit it raw.” He chuckled. “Gonna fuck you so good now though."

He's on the brink of losing it, he knows he's about to cum soon.

He looks down at you who’s absolutely fucked dumb on his cock.

He curses, slowing down just a tad. "You fucking loving that we're doing it raw now?”

“Feels so much fucking better now. W-Want you to cum inside too.” You begged, making his eyes widened.

“Are you serious?”

“W-Want it so bad I— Please.”

He groans, loving the idea at your request. “Pretty girl gonna let me cum inside, I couldn’t ask for more.”

He speeds up a little bit, slamming into you roughly and grunting. "That's right, fucking want my cum? Wanna turn mama into more than just a nickname huh?”

He dirty talked her so good.

“Mm yes Daddy yes.” She swallowed.

His eyes grow wide at the idea but he smirks while he continues to thrust into you hard, making a dirty scene in his head.

"That's right, I wanna fill your womb up with my kids, make them from your tight fucking pussy, don't fight it mama. So close” He mumbled in her ear.

“Shit I’m close too.”

He knows he's close too, groaning almost in pain from not cumming yet. He continues to fuck you relentlessly as you near the edge.

"Shit! Cum on my cock mama, you need to cum, you want to cum so bad don't you?"

“Cumming fuck” She immediately let go of the feeling building up in her stomach.

He's right on the edge with you, his cock swells up before he pulls out and shoots his hot load to the side of your stomach, he's not ready for kids, at least not yet.

He slumps backwards and curses. "Fucking shit.”

The two were panting on the couch, struggling to catch their breaths.

She panted. “I’m sorry for lying Jungkook. It was wrong of me to lie to you.”

He smirks and shakes his head but still looks at you with an amused expression.

"No need to apologize momma, we're fucking both dirty. Besides we both liked it didn't we?" He winks and wraps an arm around you.

“You’re really not mad?”

“I mean it irritated me a lot when I thought you fucked him.” He sighed. “I’m just relieved now.”

“When I told you I haven’t been with anyone else I meant it.” You told him. “That’s not

something I would lie about. Especially after I pressed you for so long.”

“I know. When I seen him touch you like that I just— I thought I lost you.” He looked at you. “I just kinda thought you were using me.”

“It’s not about weed for me anymore Jungkook.” You swallowed. “It hasn’t been for a while.”

“It was never about the weed for me.” He confessed. “I just wanted to see you since the beginning.”

“You thought that was a secret?” You couldn’t help but snort.

“Okay I’m never being vulnerable with you again.” He shook his head.

[celaenaeiln]

“batman loves his nightwing” this and “batsibs love nightwing that”, what about the batsibs’ friends / team loving nightwing ‼️‼️

YES!!! They love him!

The thing about Dick Grayson is that he has such a unique quality that just draws people in and holds them captive.

Titans (2016) Issue #26

He has a charisma that's intense. People from all walks of life find themselves just constantly looking at him for friendship, advice, love, guidance, and just something that calls them to him.

It's the impact he has on people that's astounding.

Titans (2016) Issue #27

They love him so much and they respect him so much that his absence is like a huge gaping hole in their chest. People feel lost without him because they've come to rely so heavily on him. Gar and Steel literally only joined because Dick asked.

This is something Roy catches on to and is well-aware of. He practically hounds Dick into creating the Outsiders with him.

Outsiders (2003) Issue #1

But you think Roy is the only one to capitalize on Dick's Nightwing effect? Hell no.

Titans East Special

Dick isn't just a person. He's a home. He's the guiding hand and the ship's steer control. He's special to people because he's everything they want him to be. He's their lover, best friend, brother, and partner. Whatever role they're missing in life they find it him him because he makes himself versatile enough to fill whatever they're looking for.

Dark Crisis Issue #1

We say batsibs' teams but he's the whole Justice community's everything. He fills the connections of both Batman's side and Superman's side.

He IS the most well-connected person in the entire community.

Teen Titans (2003) Issue #23

Look at what Kon says -

"Nightwing and Starfire brought wave two. Which is just about everyone whose ever been a Titan. It's a natural thing when Nightwing shows up. None of us are conscious of it, really--but we all look to him for orders. Robin's lucky."

The sheer respect. That Kon has for Nightwing is indomitable. Oh, but you think that's all?

Do you know what the superhero community says about Nightwing? Kon will tell you what they think -

Teen Titans (2003) Issue #33

The Titans (1999) Issue #39

He calls. They answer.

Hero-worship of Nightwing is canonically universal. Renaming this the Nightwing Effect

Epilson

The Titans (1999)

Red Condor

Nightwing (2016) Annual #3

Hutch

Nightwing (2016) Issue #75

Kara

Justice League of America (2006) Issue #49

Supergirl (2005) Issue #3

And sometimes this means more than friendship love but still born out of respect. It's so funny to me how Dick goes around friendzoning people.

Cassie

Even when people don't like what he wants they still do it because they respect him. Because he had an impact on them and they were were moved

Titans (2003) Issue #89

Aquaman, Ollie, John (Green Lantern)

JLA (1997) Issue #121

Kyle Rayner

Even people he's just met are like - this guy's pretty good!

Green Lantern (1990) Issue #81

Coming from a Green Lantern comic!! Not even a Wondergirl, Wonderwoman, Batman, or Nightwing writer. A green lantern!

Speaking of which, when Hal Jordon dies, a list of people are selected to be The Hal Jordon's replacement and guess who it is?

Action Comics (1938) Issue #642

Hal forces his soul back into his body and comes back to life but DC does a "what-if" thing and shows what it would be like if Dick actually became a Green Lantern.

Superman/Batman Issue #60

AND BRUCE'S REACTION!! His most favorite son combined with one of his least favorite people 🤣🤣

Superman/Batman Issue #60

But Bruce's faith in Dick actually elavtes his opinion of Hal.

ALSO!!-

Superman/Batman Issue #61

I JUST KNOW THAT BRUCE WAS WRITHING IN JEALOUSY!!

But anyway, shows to prove that no matter who Dick is and what identity he takes, he will always be the love of the hero community. Because in this world, each member is a combination of the Justice League AND the Titans.

Superman/Batman Issue #60

Yet Dick is still the center of it all.

A literal god

Nightwing (2016) Issue #49

Jon and the hero community

Justice League: Road to Dark Crisis Issue #1

"It would mean a LOT to people if you came and said--" "You're all overreacting." "We need you."

"You're all overreacting." - Clearly, this isn't the first time someone has already come to Dick about being the center of the community.

Not just by the batfam, but for everyone Dick is the most beloved person in the community. That is a fact.

[strawburry01]

Her Majesty

Ford Pines x Reader

Summary: A bunch of lil blurbs about your time with Stanford. All fluffy sweet stuff to make up for whatever comes next.

A/N: thanks for all the love guys! I hope you all appreciate these little snippets to make up for me missing sometimes :)

The next time you and Ford walked into Greasy’s Diner, you were holding hands. Everyone was nudging each other’s shoulders to look. They’d been waiting on this moment for a while, silently betting and gossiping on what your relationship was. The sweet waitress Susan paid for your brunch after insisting making the pancakes in the shape of a heart which caused Ford’s face to redden.

Your VCR tape library continued to grow as did Ford’s notebook collection. He kept saying he would build another real house for you both eventually that could fit everything you both needed.

You wrote back to your sister about how you were finally dating a guy and she responded back with endless phone calls until you eventually answered. She didn’t believe you until you put Ford on the phone to prove he existed.

On your first-year of dating anniversary Ford got you a new camcorder. The newest the town’s Radio Shack had at least. You got him a new Casio watch. One with the little calculator on it.

Many nights were spent with you having fallen asleep on top of Ford as he was reading a book. He didn’t dare move you.

You brought home a cat one day you found in the forest. “We need a pet” you insisted. Ford quickly informed you that it was a baby cougar.

Ford eventually told his brother Stan that you two were dating. He never told you how Stan responded, but he didn’t know you overheard him on the phone saying, “I can’t believe she’s with someone like me,”.

You and Ford always had strained relationships with your parents so you never felt a strong urge to introduce each other to them. When your grandma passed away though he flew back to the east coast with you to attend the funeral. He teased you about the science fair and soccer trophies in your childhood room when you two spent the night there.

On your third year anniversary you two went into the larger Oregon city of Portland for the night and went to an expensive dinner. Afterwards you two went to a midnight showing of 2001: A Space Odyssey.

You both mentally kept track of the overall wins and losses of your daily chess games.

He preferred coffee, you preferred tea.

Whenever Ford would put on one of his nature or paranormal documentaries you’d always wrap yourself around his arm and fall asleep immediately. The European narrators just lulled you straight to sleep.

Ford nearly tore your ear off when your earrings got stuck to his magnet-ray. He apologized profusely and bought you new earrings to make up for ruining yours.

You insisted on going out to the town fair and got him dancing with you when the band starting playing on the last night. You were both buzzed off of beer and cider and couldn’t stop laughing and bouncing into each other.

Everyone in town knew you as the two scientists outside of town, and everyone knew how much you two loved each other.

You both said ‘I love you’ for the first time when star gazing

Hope you enjoyed! Think of this as part 2.5 I guess? Whatever is next is gonna hurt the feelings I’m sorry but I can’t help it heeheehhehehe.

Update: here it is

[vaspider]

Okay so someone shared this link on the server for the Chronicles of Darkness game I've been running since 2020 and I looked at the link and went 'yeah right' and then I read the article and went 'hunh' and then I watched the first three episodes of 'Knuckles,' which didn't take long because each episode is about half an hour long, and actually I fucking cried my eyes out at the big fight that is referenced because like... it's ... good, actually?

The show is very silly, and a lot of the humor is very childish, which makes a lot of sense, right, because it's about a fucking video game, but, at least so far, it's an extremely sincere show.

The siblings in this show act like highly exaggerated siblings. Of course adults wouldn't act like this, but it doesn't matter, because that's not really who the show is for. The show is for kids. It's goofy. The heart of sibling rivalry is there. The heart of hurting over a parent who abandoned you is there. The heart of a parent missing a family tradition is there.

The jokes that are made are made with love for Jewishness. Whoever made the food jokes has eaten a lot of gefilte fish and matzoh ball soup. Whoever wrote the episode understands how important it is that nothing puts out the Shabbat candles. Whoever wrote the episode understands the importance of minhagim -- the traditions that are unique to your family, to your synagogue, whatever.

Clearly they're not shomer Shabbos because their traditions include watching movies after Shabbat dinner, but that's not presented as them being Bad Jews -- it's just their family tradition, and that's just how it is.

Mom's bracha for the candles has the 'Adenoy' pronunciation which is so very New York Older Ashkenazi Jewish that it made my heart ache and made me powerfully homesick for the East Coast, since so many of the older people at my old shul used that specific pronunciation.

The fact that they literally centered a pair of Shabbas candles (with what are clearly kosher candles burning!!) in the fight, and the entire fight revolves around those candles? It just hit me right in the middle of the chest.

There's a difference between a show being silly and a show being insincere, and Knuckles is silly but it's not insincere. I will fully admit that I watched the first three episodes to get to the episode entitled The Shabbat Dinner, but you know... I might just finish the series? It's got heart, and all of the actors are clearly having such a good time. It's one of those projects that I refer to as a Summer Camp Show/Movie, where everybody's getting a nice paycheck and having a very good time and not taking themselves too seriously.

Plus, Christopher Lloyd made me laugh until I choked.

[devosin]

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! episode one : taco bell & shitty tuesdays . .

♡. Spotify playlist | Updates, every Friday !! — Vil Schoenheit x reader | Y/n pov . .

You stare at your phone screen, waiting for the phone call to end, and for the screen to fade to black—A sigh of relief escapes you as you finally hear the line close, the familiar sound of a phone call ending brings you such overwhelming relief, you'd think you just paid off a million dollars worth of nonexistent debt. 

You let yourself fall back on your chair, your publicist had landed you into another event you could care less about all in the name of publicity, and honestly you wish you had the heart to tell her, but you’re well aware that Jean only wants the best for her clients, and each decision had a reason behind it . . —But who the hell goes to a dolphin event anyways?—They’re like the cruelest sea animal!

You stretch your arms, and stare at the pile of clothes spread at the top of your bed and floor. It was the first day on set, nothing major would be happening, only meeting the crew and learning of the plans for the show—and you’d like to make a good impression—anything below show stopping would be an insult to yourself . . and your stylist who suggested a bunch of outfits with the clothes you now have on your bed and floor. 

You let out another sigh, wishing you could just fall back asleep instead of dealing with whatever it is you got yourself signed up to, “I should take a shower”, you mumble to nobody in particular. 

Time: 10:32 am Location: Y/n’s Car

You stir the car into the drive thru of some random Taco Bell that fell on the highway—Normally taco bell for breakfast isn't ideal, and in all honesty will never be your ideal . .  It's a bold move to take the most diarrhea-inducing meal right before a first time cast meeting, but when life gives you taco's, one must oblige. 

Time: 11:43 am Location: Y/n’s Car 

You had parallel parked your car somehow—To be fair ninety percent of the time you park your car with hopes and prayers, and sometimes you forget to fill your gas up entirely, which proves to be really annoying since it's a three hour drive to the capital city where you film mainly, and you have to drive there a lot . .  Your parents would be ashamed to see your yearly towing costs due to a forgetful gas repayment. 

You always seem to assume that somehow the distance to get to your designated location will magically change into a couple minutes and won't waste your gas as much, which quite literally never works, but are you going to learn from your mistakes? . . Most likely not. 

You stretch your arms one more time, taking a few deep breaths and a sip of your drink, before you finally grab your tote bag and head into the studio. 

Time: 11:52am Location: Inside the studio 

A shiver racked over your body the moment you entered the studio—'Dear seven it's fucking cold in here'—you thought, mentally noting that you should ask Amanda when you meet her if there was a way to turn up the heater, it’s literally winter . .  they can’t expect you to film in this situation right? 

As if on instinct a distinct cheery voice could be heard from the farther corner of the room, "Y/n!! You're here", a petite brunette makes her way up to you . .  way too energetic for this early in the morning, "Hi, Amanda", you greet her, a bit awkwardly, not knowing how to exactly approach the conversation. 

“Yes! That’s me, we're just setting up right now, I’m so glad you came.”, she smiled, “You can put your bags on that chair over there, we're just getting a few things sorted, so feel free to introduce yourself to everyone.”. 

"Omg, it's so great to finally see you! . . and like meet you", she seemed so excited, for some weird reason, her energy rubbed off on you, easing your nerves, "Sorry if I'm late, traffic was horrendous", you mumbled, “that’s completely fine, you live further out East right?”, she asked curiously, and you watched as she fiddled with her clipboard checking off random things. 

“Yeah”, you reply dryly, shoving your hands in your pockets, “It’s usually a three hour drive, it took four today”, she nodded along, “Well, if you’re hungry we have snacks in that room”, she points to one of the random staff rooms, “You and Vil will be sharing a dressing room, if you don't mind—If you do I can totally work something out!”, she quickly corrects herself. 

“No it’s completely fine”, you smile, it wouldn’t be the first time, a lot of films on a shorter budget opts to have actors sharing a dressing room, and this is the first ever late night show for the company, you wouldn’t be surprised if sorting things out is already eating a chunk away at the budget set in placed.  

“Speaking of Vil . . Where is he?”, you ask, looking around curiously at the room, you see a bunch of other staff members and crew, who wave hi to you and you wave back. You’ll have to greet them properly later, but you’ll put that to a back burner until your social battery recovers to its full level. 

“Vil?”, she stands in place, thinking for a couple seconds, “He left an hour ago”, you raise a brow, “He came like really early in the morning, said he was getting breakfast and had a meeting, and that he’d be back . . maybe . .  soon?”, she walks around, throwing some pointers to some of the crew . .  it looked like gang signs but the crew understood so who are you to judge, “Honestly I don’t remember much.”, she whispered to you, like it was a secret of some kind, “But . . I did plan a meeting between the two of you tomorrow, you’ll be meeting at this cafe, it’s really private and I booked the area so you guys can comfortably talk about the show, if that’s alright with you?” 

“That’s great actually!”, you smiled, that just gives you one less thing to worry about.

Amanda is actually just a random character based off of no one in particular, I felt like a really sweet manager would be really fun <3

Taco bell . . . no y/n's were harmed in this process (They had pepto bismol in the car dw)

Previous chapter | Masterlist | Next chapter . .

— LATE NIGHTS & FLASHING LIGHTS !! ♡. Synopsis : VIL SCHOENHEIT recently signed a contract under Descendant. Inc for his very own late night show, only to find out his co-star and fellow co-host is none other than Y/n L/n, someone he hates despite knowing very little about them and never having met them, previously. Y/N L/N, an actor who made their debut 3 years ago and hasn’t been able to catch a break since, recently decided to sign a deal with Descendants. Inc to host their new late night show “late nights & flashing lights”, as a break from acting . . Only to find out their favorite long-time actor will be co-hosting with them. Tune in every Friday, for a new episode of “late nights & flashing lights” to see if these two hosts can find a peaceful work-bond amidst their judgements . . and quite possibly even love? . .

♡. Want spoilers ?! . . Join my server . . !! (or to be namedropped <3)

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♡ . Ask to be tagged... (If you don't see yourself up here, I cant tag you)

© devosin , do not repost, plagiarize, translate, or adapt my work without prior permission and or confirmation.

[therealslimshakespeare]

Masters of the Air Fanfic

As requested by sweet @arianatheangel-girl and the subsequent poll for a “Buck Cleven Fic before the series comes out” -and I, being a madwoman with no impulse control and a faint recollection of the book, have delivered…this…whatever this is

Song Challenge: i was challenged by dear @the-ugly-swan for a twenty favored songs challenge and I’m gonna go ahead and make this part of it. August by Taylor Swift informed some of the bittersweet timeline here, with infidelity not being the enemy but rather the lack of possessing oneself fully during wartime to give to another

Spoilers: historical accuracy and inaccuracy abound here so, beware there are some biographical facts about Cleven in here that might count as spoilers to those who wish to watch the series with a blank slate. While to the history purists I must beg for a substantial amount of artistic license to be granted me, and obviously I’ve not seen the show yet and I crunched the timeline to my own will

Reader insert but without the use of “y/n” -I’m utterly fudging a bit on the likelihood of a WAAF lady being part of the American ground crew, however, I had in my minds eye the vision of a greasy mechanic and a glamorous flyboy and it wouldn’t budge, so shhh, go with the vibe

Warnings: mature, 18+. Fluffy smut was requested and while it is very brief and mild in here, not very explicit in phrasing, it’s quite present and a plot point so beware. Also, Virgin!Gale has my heart so we went with that. No shade to dear Marjorie irl, I’ll probably end up writing fics about her once the show gives me Inspo. Some angst due to war, POW’s, etc, mild language

Word count: a monstrous 12k

They came in like locusts at the height of summer, long prayed for, oft cursed in moments of perilous isolation, those ever so intriguingly shiny Americans.

Swarming with a metal buzz over the flatlands of East Anglia, big hulking beasts touched down on fresh tarmacs with more grace than anything that size ought to have, flashing the most bizarre and suggestive paintings on their gleaming fuselages. Flying Fortresses, they were called, and deserved the name. Nothing but the biggest, the loudest, the most alarming machinery would do for the American war effort, and now all this mighty strength was Britain’s too, no longer alone, no longer enduring.

Now the fight could be taken to the enemy in earnest. Out of their flying ships poured the most alarmingly young looking faces, jaunty hats and leather jackets, they looked every bit the sort of fellows war was advertised to.

Farmers in their tractors, mothers with daughters still under their command and RAF veterans all looked askance at such pristine warriors. Had their fertile fields been paved into airfields just for this? Were these gum chewing boys the long expected aid? It wasn’t anti-climactic, nothing American could ever be, it was all just alarmingly fresh. It was understandable then, the initial tentativeness the locals felt towards their new occupants, the way the boys took up such space in the rural villages, made such a racket in the pubs, chased every skirt that swished in the rainy summer breeze, stuck hands out for a shake no matter the introduction. They were a warm, boisterous and confident lot, all much needed attributes in wartime Britain, and soon, the initial distrust of the citizenry thawed, hands were shaken in return and invitations made. An amiable amalgamation eventually occurred, Norfolk never to recover or return to whatever placidity had been her’s before the arrival of the 100th.

Personally, you couldn’t wait to get your hands on them. The planes, that is.

Amalgamation was less a choice for yourself and your service members than a duty. It was abnormal, having a mixed ground crew, British and American servicemen too often clashing in hierarchy disputes for it to be standard, but with deployment rates so high and casualties mounting, ground crew became a case of whichever skilled individuals could be called upon to keep the operation running, the pilots up and the enemy bombed.

You were just glad to be near home, first time back since ‘39 when you’d signed up in the Women's Auxiliary Air Force -even if your rural hometown was now overrun with Americans. They weren’t a bad lot at all, at least not the ones you’d encountered so far on base. Amiable and unexpectedly eager, undeterred by veterans’ grim looks and tales of the woodchipper across the channel, that line of anti-aircraft that shredded anything trying to penetrate the continent.

“Better get crackin’ then.” Was the common response followed by a grin.

Your crew chief sergeant, Ken Lemmons, an American with a forelock of sandy ringlets and the patience of a saint, made the job easier even as every ounce of expertise was exacted from each man -or woman- under him. Feeding a fiery chain of bullets into the turret gun under a hot July sun, you thought your papa may have had the right of it when he tried to dissuade you from choosing the harsher duties of the Auxiliary Force. You could’ve been pouring over a map in the cool of the boardroom right now, or passing on radio messages, even shuttling planes would’ve been more relaxing, but no, you’d spent your life passing him tools in his garage, your papa had been building flying machines when most for these boys were still in diapers, and that path called to you, too. So for you it was grueling maintenance work and the ever present grime of grease on your hands and the awkward reach of twisted metal repairs. Gratefully, after their first mission, there were plenty of them back safe, however riddled their fortresses might’ve been.

It was interesting, the way certain of the flight crew treated the ships. Some were endeared but indifferent to their repairs while others hovered at each hole and tear, like over protective mothers, while you and your mates tried to do your jobs.

Why, one plane in the five assigned to your care was even named “Our Baby”. With such a moniker it made sense that its porcelain faced pilot would caress the shredded wing with a misty eyed frown at each wound, like it were a breathing thing, a race horse, a friend. You didn’t judge it, and he didn’t seem aware of his audience, he’d be back out there doing his own check up after debriefing. Never interrupting your work, always quick to step aside or duck out of the way of a ground crewman’s path, it wasn’t time to chatter or make introductions, although sometimes when the work took long and his reports longer, he’d be there to bid goodnight to you all, soft, American drawl saying “Goodnight, thank ya, goodnight, good work, thank ya” again and again to each.

You grew to recognize them, the ones each mission spared, there were so many and under hats and bundled in leather jackets they tended to blend together, but there were those who made their mark, if not on you then on Dorace in cartography and Eileen at the Red Cross. There was much tittering and speculation, after all, spread thin as their time was, there was also plenty of off time, made all the more charged and anxious as it came in the form of waiting for new orders. The men would be vibrating with nervous energy and generous in the flush of a recent victory and they took it out on the little villagers who in good British fashion took it on the chin and challenged them to a contest of good spirits.

Those were happy days, less anxious than the preceding ones and less heavy than those making up the year after. You dared be roped into the multiple pub crawls, often choosing the most sensible and quiet of the group as your victim and attaching yourself to their side for the evening. This tactic had its fallibility, sometimes those moderates were such a bore as to be unsupportable or hadn’t enough verve to make a full night of it and retired early like respectable, curfew-abiding saps. That’s how you found yourself one night ensconced in a beer pungent corner of Flaggen’s, green leather seats sticky under your palms, with Major Egan fanning out a wad of cash in front of you. It was a blatant attempt to bribe you to clear his aircraft sooner than the last inspection suggested.

“Suggestions” was Egan’s term for regulations.

If you were less tipsy you wouldn’t have giggled at the man’s idiocy, but his arm was heavy around your shoulders and this very cash had bought you one too many gin and tonics. “These regulations keep you alive!” You chided him, shaking your head and feeling the room tip as you did. Truly these Americans could hold their liquor, almost as well as the Polish Squadron when it came to a binge.

“A little flack isn’t gonna keep her down.” he scoffed, “I’ve been grounded for a week now-“

“-I don’t have the authority-“

“-and I’m not gonna sit here while Buck goes up and racks up his number!” Eagen was vehemently slurring and your drunken mind tried to process who Buck was, if not Egan himself.

“Aren’t you Bucky?” you asked, bewildered.

-Americans and their nicknames.

“Yeah.”

“So who’s Buck?” you concentrated very hard on the ancient coaster beneath your latest pint.

“It’s Buck! It’s Gale, Cleven, Major Gale Cleven!” Egan waxed louder and more dramatic with each addition. “You keep clearing his plane! But not mine! Why’s that, huh?”

“How do you know that?” you asked, dubious and only in the raucous of this little pub would his loud voice go unheeded. Compared to the ongoing dart game to the left behind the half wall, an elephant’s trumpeting would be considered bashful.

“ ‘Cause he tells me?” he replied, bewildered at your slowness, “Says you and your crew are little fairies, crawlin’ all over his plane and patching it up better than ever after each mission. And then you clear him. Simple as that.”

“I don’t have authority to clear anyone.” you repeated.

“Huh,” Egan grunted, “how’does he mean then?”

“I don’t know.” you replied firmly, “I doubt I’ve even got your plane, i don’t see you around.”

“I don’t stay around, that’s your job, patching up. I just fly the damn thing.”

“Oh, well.” you shrugged, “I’ve had five, it’s down to three after last mission.” Three years ago the mention of that ratio of losses would’ve sank your mood to the floorboards, by now it’s horrifically routine. “What’s yours called?”

“Mugwump.” he grinned proudly, a flash of white beneath his dark mustache, the man’s face positively shimmered with sweat.

“Serial?” you asked demurely, just to be difficult.

He squinted his eyes shut briefly, head tilted back as if to ask the heavens for help and the recited in a drill master’s staccato “42-30066, ma’am, yes ma’am.”

You giggled again and Egan’s arm jostled your shoulders, smushing you further into him. They were good fun, these boys, didn’t even mind your horrifyingly unflattering uniform with its bulging pockets adding bulk where your curves should take center stage and your stupid pleated cap making you look to be half baker, half doll. You preferred your plain navy coveralls but you’d hardly be let into an establishment in them. Egan’s warm arm didn’t seem to mind the excess poof of the material, he smashed it right down with his hand’s firm grip, he was fun, you decided, no harm in good fun. “Alas, not one of mine.” you sighed, focusing hard on the serial number.

“Damn.” he swore, playing at dejection.

“No,” you went on, “but I’ve got this one, a very spoiled one, maybe you know whose it is. They named it ‘Our Baby’!”

Poor manners and personnel etiquette though it was, you couldn’t say it without tittering.

Egan didn’t laugh, he just looked at you like you’d proved his point. “Yeah,” he replied vehemently, “That’s Buck Cleven’s!”

“Oooh.” -So it was him, the fighting cherub, the walking doughboy, toothpick, baby at wings: there were a dozen or more nicknames you and the ground crew gave the wing-petting Major behind his back. “He always says goodnight to us.” you said instead.

“Is that where he is when I wanna go for a drink?” Egan exclaimed, “Ha! You’d think he was married to the ole ship.”

“He handles her beautifully.” You feel oddly compelled to defend, he’s a master at flight and as someone who must repair each fault of his landings and his leavings and his missions, you feel some loyalty to his finesse. “He handles her so well.” you repeat in the tone of a woman who’s seen some aviation in her time, young though you may be.

“Well let me let you into a lil secret,” Egan smirks and you brace without knowing why, he is, after all, not the respectable and dull men you choose to go out with, he is the dangerous sort you bring those dullards along to deter, “shes the only ‘she’ that boy has ever ‘handled’ -if ya get my drift.”

The sleazy wag of his eyebrows leaves no room for ignorance, you feel your face heat up, wether in prudery for the topic or second hand embarrassment for his friend’s sake, you don’t know.

“Nothing wrong with that.” you reply coldy, only to distance yourself from the road his body language seemed to be hurtling you both down.

“Quite right. Nothin’ at all!” Egan agrees vehemently, his smile easy and his eyes clever “But I’d be a poor friend if I didn't try to remedy his predicament.”

“Telling me is somehow part of this remedy?” you were suspicious, rightfully so.

“Maybe.” Egan drawls it out, shifting in his seat to no longer corner you, his attention drawn to the nearby dart game. The man of the moment, the subject, the handler of planes and none else, was not here. He had such a luminous head of golden hair, it would be a beacon amongst the muddy haired crowd flinging darts. “The thing of it is, dear,” Egan confided, “I've had an absolutely marvelous time since I got here. And I think that’s rather essential, for sanity and for international relations, don’t you? I’ve gotten to know all sorts of wonderful people, lovely people like yourself-“

“-word is, you’ve known them a little too biblically, no wonder Cleven avoids your outings.” You could not help but temper him. “Half of Great Britain has had the privilege, if some are to be believed.”

“And so what if I have? I love dancin’!” he laughed quite happily at your barb and you didn’t have it in you to pull down any further a man who was sacrificing so much day in and out. “Getting to know Great Britain is a better occupation than pettin’ plane wings under the moonlight.”

You tittered again at his words and the oddly endearing memories you had of watching Major Ceven petting and whispering to his plane like she was his long-standing beloved, loitering ground crew unheeded. “He does do that.” you agreed.

“Hey, everyone’s got their method.” Egan insisted in his friend’s defense, “But I have told him, it’s good for the morale to mingle, even if he hates drinkin’.“

You pucker your face at that. “I know he mingles, Violet says he’s a doll when he goes to market.” you point out, small town chatter gets around and while you can’t say you know Cleven, you know he’s mild mannered and precious. And a terribly pretty face too, which isn’t fair, he oughta be an ass which a face that cute. “And he got a tan from somewhere last week.“

“Oh, so ya noticed!” Egan is triumphant, “A bunch of us used our day passes to go messin’ around in boats on the canals.”

“Good for you.” you didn’t know what else to say. “Why are we talking about him? What’s your point? I can ask for your plane to be transferred to my crew, but it won’t get you a sloppy clearance. And if your friend is so socially awkward he can’t even manage a pub night, you can hardly expect me to be flattered that you consider me prime material to throw at him.”

“He’s not awkward.” Egan cut to the chase quite serious, in mission mode, “Buck just had his hopes tangled up back home, and now he’s here he’s finding it hard to accept that hopes were all they were. She’s real moved on.” Well that had hurt, you winced in sympathy. “I warned him, everything during this war has got to be taken as a bit inpermanent. Don’t fall in love with Texas girls when you’re headed to England -via: Louisiana, Indiana, hell, by New York she’d stopped writing.”

“And now the texas girl has-“

“-found a Texan, I guess.” He shrugged and chugged the last of his pint. “She’s gettin’ married, it's really over. So, -“ he made a broad gesture as if to explain his reasoning for this entire segue. “-you like projects, you wouldn’t be in the line of work you’re in if ya didn’t, so whaddya say?”

You looked around the dimly lit pub in search of two things, sunny blonde hair and a clock to tell you how badly you were going to regret this night, come morning. “He’s not even here.” you balked.

“Well, no-“

“-what I say is,” you grinned at him disbelieving, “you owe me another gin and tonic for subjecting me to such inane chatter.”

His grin should have served as warning enough that he would neither drop the subject nor let you off free this evening. In fact, the ticking clock and its late curfew breaking hours became the least of your concerns come morning. The cool wash of bitter juniper blended into the pungent flow of beer, it blurred everything, soon there was a great swelling of pride for your native village, a pub crawl was on, all three visited and drank from, an army Jeep was requisitioned without authority, there was some incident regarding a policeman‘s helmet. The latter being the reason why you found yourself in “jail” the next morning, nursing a raging headache and questioning life decisions while glaring at John Egan’s polished boots.

There was very little talk about bail or Air Force hours being exceptioned, the more pressing concern to the Bobbies who had nabbed you was the coed holding cell. Thorpe Abbotts was a small place, after all, and you liked it that way. If this overly indulgent night could be kept away from the military police, all would be well.

You had one hope: Harry Crosby was sensibly absent from the holding cell, having a keen sense of when to depart from the raucous joyride at the precise moment to save himself a demerit. It was an extreme embarrassment to you that you’d not had the same sense. In fact, fond as you were of a bit of a knees up, you couldn’t quite credit the fact you had allowed yourself such free reign, or accomplished such foolishness. Glowering at Major Egan’s face now, animated with delighted chagrin at your shared plight as it was, you vowed to never again hook your fortunes to his, as it were.

Your resolve, and humiliation, was about to be compounded, exponentially.

There was a bustle of a visitor entering the precinct, easily heard in the small space, followed by the low hum of mild mannered conversation. It went on for sometime, and no amount of straining at the bars and cocking of ears would allow you, Egan or your fellow misfortunates to ascertain the gist of it. Violet’s husband was the main constable, and you were quite certain he’d be moderate in his sentence, he had his helmet back, after all. It was the Air Force penalty of not being on base in time this morning that you feared, a growing nausea that compounded the misery of your aching head. They’d not discharge Egan, they’d probably not even demote him, he was too crucial and he’d done this one too many times for it to be grace alone saving him. When he was needed, really needed, he was there. That’s what counted. The same could be said of you, but that hardly mattered given your low rank.

Violet’s husband, also known as constable Herbert, came in sight and with a jangle of keys and a tap to the side of his nose, swung open the bars of infamy and gestured for you and your fellow inmates to file out.

“All sorted.” He declared. His gaze lingered on you as it had many times in your life when you’d been caught jumping in puddles after church, “Let this be a lesson and a warning to you.”

You tried your best at both obeisance and penitence, both of which were rather natural feelings at the present time, while hurrying past as fast as was respectful, your approaching shift hours making your heart thump in panic.

On the steps outside, your savior was loitering against the wrought iron fence, thumbing at the petunias in the nearby window box. Gale Cleven was a mile long of lanky body in perfectly pressed and tailored Air Force greens, fresh faced as the good conscienced are, hair combed without his cap and a smile on his soft face that was composedly long suffering, rather than endeared, as he watched you miscreants pour out of the modest brick building.

You stumbled to a halt on the first step at the sight of him and allowed your instincts to take over, hands smoothing down hair and skirt with frantic self consciousness. You must’ve looked a rumple.

“I hope last night was worth it.” Cleven drawled in that voice of his, so oddly deep for so fresh a face, his placid smile growing into something more genuinely mirthful as Egan smooched at him in gratitude and swore that he knew his Buck wouldn’t abandon them, that his Buck would pull through for them. “I order a round of toothpaste for everyone and cold showers, you stink.” Gale shied away without any real effort, nodding in greeting to the boys he recognized.

Then, as if in the most painfully slow motion with all the strong string accompaniment of a silver screen scene, his eyes landed on you and an odd ache formed in your chest at the anticipation of his disapproval.

It made you tense and draw yourself up to your full height, looking about as regal as a drenched bantam in your disheveled dignity, but you weren’t about to be relegated to another tier than these boys he so amusedly indulged.

“Y’all know what time it is?” he asked mildy, those azure orbs with their batting dark fringe didn’t waver and you realized he indeed had more guts than you’d given him credit for.

There was a chorus of “no”s and various guesses based on the fast evaporating fog and the lightening sky.

“Zero five thirty.” he ended the suspense with the cock of an eyebrow at you.

“Shit!” Egan was suddenly animated, “Shit, shit-“

“Hey, you keep your swearin’ away from my sweet lil corporal.” Cleven chided, and it took you a brief moment to startle upon realizing he meant you. And he thought you sweet? “C’mon Miss,” he waved you down the steps and for some inexplicable reason you felt very compelled to obey and suddenly stood beneath his gaze like a dutiful child awaiting deliverance or censure, “I’ve only got this bike, petrol allotment ran out when we went to the canals last week. But it’ll get ya back faster than this lot. Reckon you can manage on the handlebar?”

“Wha-?“ you glanced sideways at the bike with its large, sweeping handlebars and second guessed his meaning until he himself was straddling it. His legs required the seat to be hiked up impossibly high and the narrow nip of his waist was accentuated by the posture. Those padded, fleece puffed jackets you had seen him in had done no credit to his form, a toothpick he may have been with how terribly lean he was, but he was firm in all the right places. He was also waiting on you to answer while you ogled him.

“Gosh yes, I can, if you’re sure? Awfully kind of you.” you blathered and moved in a hurry to make up for your stalling, keenly conscious of his eyes on your back as you shimmied your backside up onto his handlebars, feeling the warm press of his hand as he helped steady you from tipping all the way back. You wiggled on the thin metal bar, spreading your legs on either side of the front wheel and doing your best to ignore the raucous commentary of the still tipsy audience of your fellow inmates swaying on the precinct steps. “Y’all just be glad there’s no mission scheduled today.” he snarked to them instead and they chimed up that last night’s idiocy was calculated with that in mind.

“Huh.” Cleven uttered, unimpressed, behind you and it made you shiver, worse than if your father caught wind of this stunt. “Darlin’ put your hands over mine, s’gonna get wobbly takin’ off.” he directed next and you did as you were told, looking back over your shoulder at him with a grateful smile that you were relieved to see returned, pink lips stretching and a freckled nose bunching up sweetly when all of the sudden a rush caught you by surprise and the bike was in motion and you whipped your head back to view the street as it rushed up ahead of you. “See ya boys!” he hollered out as a mutinous babble rose from his friends at being left to jog back.

The young man could put some speed on a bike, uphill too. Or, as much of a hill as could be found this far East. You could hear him chuckle when you squeaked at the first jolt of a pothole, your thumbs hooking under his hands and curling into his palms. They were warm and calloused, dry from the cool breeze and you may have imagined the way he squeezed them in assaurance but you did not imagine the way his voice piped up again, smooth and conversational: “Harry told me if I was quick I could get you out in time, I think we’re gonna make it. S’dont worry, even if Sergeant Lemmons gives ya trouble, I’ll insist.”

“That’s really too kind of you.” The chill of windburn and a substantial amount of remorse made your cheeks glow scarlet. “All of it is. I’m rather ashamed.”

“I didn’t take you for an all nighter sort.” he agreed but followed it with a soothing compliment, “You’ve always been nothin’ but perfect. P-p-perfectly punctual, I mean, and there’s no reason to let Egan’s idea of fun ruin your record.”

“Wasn’t his fault. Not wholly.” you sighed, giving Violet a bashful wave as you passed her opening the shop, a wave which Cleven mirrored behind you and between the two of you letting go the bike, it nearly dumped you both. It was luck and sheer persistence that righted you and kept your balance. “I’m afraid it’s a bit of a bad habit, picked it up at Northolt.”

“Where’s that?” he asked.

“South, by the coast.” you said, unsure why you felt the need to explain your debauchery away, “I was working a ground crew down there for a bunch of Polish Pilots. Spitfires mainly. That squadron nabbed the most kills of any in the RAF back in ‘40. Why, even Churchill visited more times than I can count, he found them good fun. Too much fun, they never went to bed without downing half a barrel. There was dice built into the bottom of the pints at the Black Bull, rather addictive, rolling to see who would buy the next round. —There was always a next.” You added upon reflection.

That was also the year you had lost your brother. The correlation between the habit and the loss wasn’t to be dwelt on.

“Huh,” Cleven let out one of him contemplative hums, “and how do we compare?” he asked surprisingly.

“How?” you laughed, daring to crane your neck back to see him in the early morning sunshine, pretty and sweet and arch in his expression. Dusk had not done his mama’s work on his face any justice, it made you want to pant he was so pretty.

“I dunno, in any way,” he laughed in turn, not even breathless as he sped the bike over the cobblestones, the village barely awake and mostly quiet, “how do we compare?”

“To the Poles?”

“Or the French. Or your own, the RAF ain’t no joke.” he amended, “Whoever is our competition.”

“So it is a competition.” you smirked -how very American of him. “Depends,” you hedged playfully, “Our boys are so very nice, familiar, they never run out the right coinage during a date either. But the French are better flirts while the Dutch are better dancers. But the Poles, they know how to romance. Lots of hand kissing and flowers, so many flowers there had to be rules made for overstocking the billet.”

“Sounds like we gotta step up our game.” he decided.

“Is that what you meant? How you compare? First impressions?”

“I-I- guess, yeah.” he now sounded confused, “I mean, what else? You got scores for aircraft?”

“I do.” you replied, as it was true, “But that’s unfair, you’ve only just arrived. I thought maybe you wanted to know something more -salacious.”

“Like?” His tone behind you was guarded and you doubted if the alcohol of last night were not still buzzing and fortifying your brazenness, that you’d ever go through with what you said next.

“Other performances. For instance, in bed.”

You felt his fingers flutter around the bars beneath your own, you gripped them tighter, not just because the stretch of old road before the air base was ancient and pitted but because you were in an agony of suspense as to how he’d take your forwardness.

“There’s a record of that somewhere?” he asked at last, a beat too long, too delayed for casualness, too morose for flippancy.

“In fact there is.” you responded carefully. “A little diary of rankings, actually, there’s multiple and whenever there’s a grand assembly of the WAAF or the WACs, they’re passed about and tallied.”

“Sweet Jesus.” he swore behind you, “And here I’ve been chalkin’ up railways and munition dump targets like they’re some achievement.”

“Oh it’s all a bit of silliness.” You assured, not intending to make him glum.

“Do-“ he hesitated and you prayed for strength for him to spit it out as the airfield came in sight on the flat plain ahead. He didn’t.

“-Do I what?” you prodded softly.

“Are one of these little tallies yours?” he asked miserably.

You grinned to yourself and felt the sunshine seemed brighter and the air crisper than ever before as it rushed in your face with the slowing speed of his bike. “No, not in the least. I merely keep track of Sally’s ledger. It’s all a bit too -messy, for me.”

You dared peak behind you again and he looked relieved, then blushed furiously at your observance of him. “Well, who does Sally say is winning?” he dared.

“Romania.” you chortled and he did too, in shock if nothing else. “But Egan’s caught wind of it, he’s quite determined to save your country’s dominance, you don’t need to sweat it.”

His frown was back and you had to focus on not falling off as he slowed the bike to a halt, momentum precarious as his long legs kicked out and walked it the last yard to the segregated barracks, you felt his hand again on your waist to steady you. “Does that bother you?” he asked earnestly, sorrow in his blue eyes.

He offered a hand for you as you hopped down and it was you who held onto it long after it was needed. “Bother me?”

“Yeah, him -consortin’…with Sally?” he pressed, hands quite engulfing your one, “Does it hurt you? Bucky, see, he doesn’t mean to hurt, he’s just so-“

“-Blimey, you are a dear.” you marveled and then amended your interruption as your amusement only further creased that sweet face, “If I am ever again in Major Egan’s company, it will only be to escape it just as quickly. I’ve had quite enough of…consorting.”

“That so?” The lackadaisical confidence he exhibited outside of the precinct was back again, a not unattractive smirk plastered on his vulnerable face, a scheme in his guileless eyes. “Had enough of holding cells?”

“Quite.” you smirked back. “A quiet family dinner is more my style, the occasional picnic, even a zip round Oxford as one must show the foreigners about.” you paused and squeezed his hand once more, “And I do enjoy a bike ride.”

You did not know if he cataloged your preferences for an ideal date or not, life was busy, after all, and the momentary frolics in the July sunshine and banter on the tarmac and evenings in the pub were the exception. Time went on. Most of life was spent in the air, in his case, and in yours, beneath the belly of his beast, wrench in hand. But ever after his gallant rescue of you, there was more than the passing “goodnight” paid to you, there were cheerful smiles on his exhausted face when he returned from a mission, as if you were the one face he was coming back to. With an old familiar dread you noticed the way you begin to take each hole and dent and damage to his plane personally, as if it had been exacted on something precious to you. You have begun to care, for him and for his men, and your tired heart could barely do more than dread what that might lead to.

Good fun. That’s what these boys were supposed to be.

Gale Cleven hadn’t proven much fun. And somehow that was worse. It was worse and also unbearably honoring to be the last face he saw before taking it off, flags in your hands waving in front of his hulking bomber, giving the old familiar directions for a perfect takeoff, one he executed sublimely time and again. His sober, purposeful nods to you before he engaged and taxied out for a mission of death was more intense and intimate than any bouquet or even, your thought, a kiss. It was true the donut dollies on the sidelines were often the last faces of home that many of those boys would see. But in the his cockpit, looking down at your shrimp sized figure on the tarmac, both Major Cleven and you knew that for him, it was yours.

Once, there was a scare, in the first days of august. More than a scare if you were being honest, your heartbeat about stopped and didn’t pick back up for a few hours until word came in. The rest of the base wasn’t much better.

Ten planes had not come back. -Among them, Our Baby. And Mugwump. For two officers, so crucial, so senior, idolized and beloved as they were, to not return, was a blow like none other. You weren’t alone in hovering around the control shack, taking license of your friendship with Dorace to get a play by play of any news. When news came, such as it was, it was both relieving and exasperating.

It would seem there was some problem, a defect or too great of a hit. Orders to land in enemy territory were ignored, however, by Cleven no less. He had doggedly pushed on, safely landing them in allied Africa, of all places. It took almost a day for this information to finally be pasted together, by the end of it you were sad, haggard and half useless in your coveralls, stupendously relieved for a man you were supposed to feel professionally about.

Instead, that night, tucked in your own bed after a meal with your parents and little brother, you thanked God for keeping him -them, all of them- safe. And found yourself pondering the tan on him when he got back from his African foray. Some jealous part of you feared he might be kept there but a week later the thunderous hum of approaching bombers buzzed the air overhead of Thorpe Abbotts and the satisfying thwump of wheels touching down brought them back. There was a frenzy of greetings, flight and ground crew eager to welcome them back, the radio operators, too, and even the civilians who’d managed to get on base.

Your little brother among them. Donald wanted to see them back safe and it wasn’t dangerous, and it wasn’t dire, not returning from a mission the planes wouldn’t be in such poor shape. They’d been repaired in Africa, enough to fly them all the way back to England. So little Donald was nearby and when the crowd parted and a bee-line for Cleven became apparent, he took advantage and gave the young man a firm handshake in greeting.

“Hey buddy, thank ya, who do you belong to?” Buck laughed while returning the firm grip.

“I’m her brother.” Donald pointed you out proudly among the dispersing crowd and you rolled your eyes at his expectancy for Gale to know or care about you, more than your most pertinent work on base.

“Oh are ya now, hers, huh?” he grinned at you, “Been talkin’ about me?” he greeted, there was a still healing scrape on his left temple that your fingers itched to soothe. How badly had he hit his head?

“Of course I have.” you defended, happiness bubbling under your lips and threatening to make you smile more than was professional, you could see Sergeant Lemmons observing you from the side and tried to keep some decorum. “We thought you’d died.” You stated plainly, it wasn’t any secret to Donald, as soon as the plane had gone missing and before radio contact had been reestablished, you’d rushed home and made the family pray over supper.

“We’ve been praying for you.” Donald agreed, and you saw Cleven startle, a gasped intake of breath between those lush lips and his eyes seemed to water as he searched first your brother’s face and then your own.

“You have?” he choked out, raspy and touched.

“Yes.” you whispered, mouth twisting in a ugly grimace to hold back your own emotion. It was of little use, something beyond War Effort investment in his well being had been admitted. “We thought you might be dea-“

-you didn’t finish your reiteration of your dread. Your face, a greasy and mist spattered face, was suddenly smushed into the padded leather of his bomber jacket, nose tucked right into the fleece apex where his pale blue scarf always rested on his throat.

He was hugging you, you realized with delayed surprise.

“-even though it made the potatoes cold, Da insisted on prayin’ every night after she told us-“ Donald was waxing eloquent on his own sacrifices of having one added prayer request lengthening his mealtime but you were oblivious to more than the firm press of Cleven’s still gloved hand to the back of your scarf wrapped head, some strong emotion shuddering through his body against your own. A tremor of terror and pain, you suspected, emotions he’d been suppressing all week.

After all, the saved weren’t supposed to be shaken up. They’d been saved, what was there to be off about? You’d seen enough pilots after a close call to know it was every bit as bad or worse than actual disaster. They’d send him right back up again in days, and that was what was expected, demanded, required. He was tremoring against you and you gripped him tighter, sympathetic and aching to cure it somehow. Even for a moment.

“We’ll keep praying.” you assured, and you heard him clear his throat, snotty and rough. “Oh, blast, I’ve positively greased your jacket.” you mourned as he let you go, finally, and you caught sight of the mess your filthy hands and face had imprinted on it during the embrace.

He chuckled as he looked down at the imprint, “S’fine.”

After such an exchange of emotion the air felt charged between you two, without privacy or precedence, it felt unthinkable to linger in that mood. You turned to his plane and pet the fuselage with unstudied fondness, it had been horrid having the old bird absent. You were not above having favorites and the love he poured into his ship, somehow, like some old fairytale truism, made the hulking metal beast lovable, in turn. “How’s our baby, hmm?” you asked him, giving him a sly smile and he took your proffered out seamlessly, joining you in cataloging the damage that had not been deemed severe enough to hamper his return.

“Don’t crawl under here, sir!” you protested as you wiggled under the belly only to find him beside you in the plane’s shadow, “You’ll be a mess!”

“I’ve already got stains.” he brushed your worries off, and you knew it was true. Bloodstains in fact. He had lost a man, the report said, and apparently, judging by his trousers, Buck had held the poor fellow as he bled out. “And I wanna show you the spot I’m worried ‘bout.”

“Alright.” you conceded, allowing him to direct you to the nose. “Watch it Donald!” you had to reprimand your little brother who predictably followed after, “You’ll burn yourself if you touch that, this thing was just running.”

“Careful buddy.” Gale echoed gently beside you and pushed his little head down, more into a crawl. You refused to allow the gentle way he treated the brat to warm you, you refused. Or at least, you refused to let it show, the tingle and heat you felt being all too consuming to be denied.

He was lovely. But you already knew that. He was even more lovely when, upon crawling out from under Our Baby, he took his scarf from around his neck, silk decadently soft, flesh warmed and smelling strongly of his exertions, and swiped it across your greased cheek.

“You’ve got just a lil more…” he practically mumbled and wiped down to your chin, firm, gentle little rubs of the silk which required his other hand to grasp your chin to steady you. You weren’t sure when he’d taken off his gloves, but the feel of his skin on yours was heady.

“It’ll take a couple days.” You predicted regarding the repairs, “Which means you’ll have a few days free, if they don’t drown you in reports.”

“Oh they will.” he laughed, “But s’long as my days are free, means yours aren’t.” he pointed out.

“I guess that’s true.”

“We shoulda thought of that when we chose this line of work.” he joked and your cheeks flamed at the realization he wished to spend time with you. “But you’ll have your nights still, yeah?”

Coming from anyone else, the request for your nights to be reserved would strike you as suggestive indeed. But this was Buck, and when he mentioned nights you imagined nothing but taking him home for a tepid potato and rationed powdered milk supper and the warm reception of your family. His weary eyes suggested how badly he needed that. You could give it to him, and it made your heart glow.

“Yes, I’ll have my nights.” you agreed, “And you can have them, too.”

Sergeant Lemmons agreed with your estimation of Our Baby’s damage the following day and four long days after were spent patching up damage that suggested what a hellish ride that must’ve been. Someone else hosed the blood out of the bay but it turned the puddle on the concrete beside you sickly pink.

To and fro from office to barracks to observation tower, Cleven would stop by to see his ‘baby’ on these occasions. The heckling the ground crew gave you regarding this potential double meaning was agonizing and almost made his attentions not worth it. But then he’d be dropping to a squat to chat with you as you soldered metal, heedless of the sparks, or else bringing scones from the mess to refresh you and, again, wiping your face often with his fancy scarves despite your protests that it was futile.

And at night, on the second day, you made good on yours and Donald’s word and brought him to dinner. It was a quiet walk from the base to the end of the long main road, right to the outskirts of the village, where your family’s unassuming little thatched cottage nestled amongst mama’s victory garden, daddy’s aeroplane hanger and repair shop loomed ugly and dark behind.

The look on Buck’s face when you met him outside the base’s gate at seven in the evening in a dress and heels was worth capturing. But you hadn’t a camera with you and it wasn’t like you were liable to forget. His pure look of awe and appreciation for your cleaned up and girlish state was nearly comic if it weren’t so flattering.

“Darlin-“ he began in a rush but did not finish, only taking you lightly by the fingertips and spinning you slowly, his eyes wide like he was seeing a marvel, which, maybe he was, -your womanly form finally liberated from puffy uniforms and ugly coveralls. Wholesome as your intentions were for the evening, and indeed for him in general, it was some relief and delight to know he was capable of getting hot under the collar. His mama’s well drilled manners soon caught up to his unbridled appreciation and a deluge of charmingly proper compliments rained down on you next until you had to put a stop to his babble by tugging him down the road with the reminder of dinner as incentive.

“You’re sure they won’t mind?” he began his worries again, nervous to meet your parents.

If he’d been like the rest of the boys he’d know just how much mingling was already common. It wasn’t remotely odd to bring him home, not when you lived so near. “Don’t be silly, they’ve been begging to meet you and Donald has plans of torturing you with his plane models and Papa wants to show you his shop and mama thinks you're much too skinny, I’m sure she’s gone to the black market to grab something to fatten you-“

“-how’s she know that?” he interrupted in shock.

“Oh,” you flushed, realizing your misstep, “I’ve talked of you. And she recognized you, she and Violet are thick as thieves and -it’s not like you’re unremarkable. A physical description is rather easy to give when you, well, when you look like…you.”

“What do I look like?” he cried out but his cheeks were smiling despite his outrage, “Malnourished?”

“Like a lanky cherub.” you refuted and were pleased that the late summer sun was still bright enough at this long hour to show his pretty blush.

“A cherub.” he repeated in disbelief.

“Yes.” you were firm, both in tone and the press of your hand in the crook of his offered elbow, “And as we’ve been commended to entertain angels unaware, how much more when we are certain of one?”

“Oh shut up.” he begged you and you two staggered into each other as you laughed your hearts out. It felt good to laugh, for the both of you, and a little too foreign, as well. It left a hollow melancholy in its wake that was soothed by the near and swaying proximity of each other’s body.

“They’ll be glad to have you at the table.” you dared go on, feeling you should prepare him, should the subject arise, “I’ve a brother, you see, an older brother. Rafe, he was stationed in Burma. We’ve not heard of him in over two years. There’s an empty seat at our table, it takes a certain sort of soul to fill it without it feeling like a sacrilege. But you fit the bill nicely, I think.”

“Burma.” he repeated with all the gravity of a man who understood, who knew the ache of almost hoping a dear brother, a beloved son, was dead rather than enduring the slow hell of a Japanese internment camp. How awful to almost wish for a decisive end for one so loved. “No word at all?”

“None.”

“I’m terribly sorry.”

“Thank you.” you whispered, “And thanks for making it back, yourself.” you squeezed his arm jovially and felt his other hand fall atop yours there in the crook of his elbow and a sweetness filled you at the gesture, such as you’d never known before. It was peaceful and lovely and your little village suddenly looked as pretty and idyllic again as it was always supposed to, the routine route home was seen through his eyes, the eyes of a homesick boy with a soft girl on his arm, bound to meet her parents and inspect Donald’s plane models.

Your mother and father loved him, little surprise there, he was a darling and homesick and yours was a happy home, humble and wounded though it may be. Your mother was obnoxious in her delight the moment father took him out back to see where your expertise for welding first began, the little aerodrome, no longer fitted with pleasure craft but now fitted to scrap the more useless casualties. Mother pestered you as you helped clear the table, asking after him and whatever this thing was between you. When you assured her it was only dinner to fill that chair and some unfathomable knowledge that had grown each time you stood before his propeller and waved him off to death, she knew it for what it is.

War and the urgency of living that goes with it, shrinks long emotions into fast passion and steady hearts into foolish daring. Neither of you were the sort to tumble into the passing vogue passions that had seized hold of your friends and comrades. Yours was a quieter path. Even so, after the fourth evening of dinner rations and quiet fireside chatter and the patter of late summer rain on the roof, there was a kiss as he walked you back to base, his jacket over your shoulders, his shirt clinging to him and the sweetest intent etched on his misted features as his lips descended to yours.

“Thank you,” he had said so passionately yet so subdued, a wall of wisteria at your back and his honey blonde hair dripping into his eyes, “I’ve needed this bad.”

His words suggested the family dinners, his scorching lips suggested the molded flesh of your body in his large palms.

“So you’ve wanted this?” your breathed mixed, a hazy little cloud between you in the damp evening air, your little alcove of shelter from the rain under old Mosley’s shed was like another little world entirely, fauna filled and peaceful, even the ever present drone of machinery was drowned out by the downpour.

Your mother had been right, you should've waited longer till the clouds passed but you had both cited curfew -and maybe even subconsciously sought just such a predicament as the one that had you necking Gale Cleven in a wisteria claimed tool shed.

“I’ve wanted you.” he clarified, firm grip on the base of your neck punctuating his turmoil, his lips met yours again and whatever oath of abstinence he had chosen, it did not seem to include kissing. He was soft and persistent and all consuming, those restless hands migrating in an ever mapping caress, making every part of you thrum with butterflies. “Wanted you for a long while.” he spoke into your lips, “I think you’re just great.” And there was happiness then, untinged with anything temporal beyond the feel of warm flesh beneath cold, rain soaked cloth and lips that tasted of honeyed biscuits.

It was impossible to maintain the stoic propriety of behavior you’d once managed before, on base, after that. You knew now how he sounded when he moaned into your mouth and he his stare alone could make you blush, you had spoken to his mother on the phone and he had seen your childhood bedroom. He learned once, laying amongst sea grass on the beach during a cloudy Sunday, the silky moist feel of you beneath your swimsuit, his long, bashful fingers that were ever so fond of petting anything and everything, finally finding a place that responded to his swipes with jolts and gasps and sighs and pleasure. You peaked three times on that sand dune, Buck none the wiser as he had nothing to compare your little deaths to, you kept a firm grip on his forearm and told him he was doing marvelous and that’s all it took for him to be persistent. Persistent beyond what you imagined any other man could be due to cramp. He was getting freckles from so much sunshine, but it was well, the rains would be here soon come autumn.

These happy days had you risking your life to pause your work and watch his pretty form swagger across the asphalt to his next destination and he, ever so right and proper and by the book, became devil enough to lie in wait for you and catch you by the waist when you least suspected it and drag you into some abandoned corner.

Only to kiss you.

To kiss and to ask after your day, as if your evening was not to be spent sat beside him at table or the movies, lying on a picnic blanket with him near or in the back of a jeep on top of Mayberry Rise, the tallest point around where the stars ran into the sea on the horizon.

One of the first days of September, you made good on your promise to Harry and drove with him to muck about Oxford for a day and see the college, the library, too. It was a long ride and as you were at the wheel, Harry was gem enough to allow Gale along, too, and by the end of it, driving back late and in a rush before the headlights would be needed, you were quoting favorite literary passages to each other. As if you were all students, not misplaced youths in the business of killing.

You said as much and in the burgeoning gloom Gale’s rich voice asked if you knew any Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.

“Not Wordsworth!” Harry clarified.

“No, I don’t.” You admitted, for all your chiding today of their not being cultured enough, you didn’t know your American writers as you should.

“He’s got a poem for that.” Gale said, “For what you said. Or at least, it makes me think of today -that verse, ‘member Crosby?- the one it goes:

-I remember the gleams and glooms that dart across the school-boy's brain; The song and the silence in the heart, That in part are prophecies, and in part, Are longings wild and vain. And the voice of that fitful song, Sings on, and is never still: "A boy's will is the wind's will, And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts."

The deafening silence for the rest of the car ride was filled with truth and your own heart was heavy when you bid them both goodnight that evening, headed to your seperate billets. You paused in you departure to turn back once more at the door and holler to Buck in the chilled September air, “That poem, is there more of it?”

“Lots more.” he’d spun round on his heel, pleasantly surprised at your inquiry.

“What’s it called?” you intended to search it out, though it was doubtful that a copy would be found near this remote place.

“How about I write it out for ya?” he suggested as if thinking the same.

“You’ve got a whole damn poem memorized?” you balked, incredulity warring with amusement that you should’ve guessed he’d be the sort.

“I-I-I might.” he stuttered before laughing.

“Then please do.” you grinned and threw him a kiss across the distance which he jumped up and caught from the air in a grand show of dedication. “Goodnight, cherub.” you wished him, “Sleep tight.” He had a mission in the morning, a daylight one.

“Goodnight old Bean.” He teased your accent and the door swung shut behind you blocking out the cold and the retreating sound of his footsteps.

If you’d have known that was the last time you’d hear them you’d have stayed an age out in the cold night listening to him go, memorizing the cadence of his gait, the sway of his shoulders disappearing into the twilight, the turn of his head as he’d throw a glance back at you, sweet and handsome and cheerful despite his ominous itinerary.

If you’d have only known.

It wasn’t like last time, like Africa. There had been no loss of contact. Dorace had heard every awful minute until the clock ran out. They’d been shredded, their precious ship turned into a raging inferno and Major Cleven’s gritted and garbled transmissions left only one hope that some at least had jumped out. Jumped out only to land in Nazi occupied Europe, it was a faint mercy to cling to.

The empty chair sat next to you again at the table and mocked you all. Mocked your hope and your resilience to dare love again. How foolish to bring home a man who belonged to a group they were calling “Bloody”, and not as a curse but an epithet.

The losses had been staggering all summer and now in September they hit close. You were confident that Crosby and Egan were every bit as dismal inside as you felt, Egan’s warm hand had clasped your shoulder like you were a fellow officer and told you he was sorry. You took the condolences and gave them back, a stupid little exchange that only highlighted how unspeakable some pain is.

Three weeks later, Egan’s plane didn’t come back either.

In your more fanciful moments you allowed yourself to imagine Egan and Cleven alive, somewhat whole and reunited. You could almost hear Cleven’s joking welcome, “What took you so long, Bucky?”

You’d indulged these fancies for Rafe, too, until years of silence suggested the worst.

However, this time, well into October and with an entirely new set of planes under your care, word came at last through the Red Cross, and the truth was exactly as you’d dreamed. There was only the paltriest letter back to command but it said they were well, they were alive, together indeed and being moved to the Polish border. Away from their own comrades' bombs. It was more than most ever got, and your family celebrated the news with the gratitude it deserved.

As October turned to November and your gloved fingertips froze as you worked, every sharp needle of chill reminded you of him, how much more awful it must be that far north, snow piled deep and muck everywhere and lice covered blankets and illness left untreated. As the holidays hurtled nearer, days of peace and goodwill you had planned to be spent with him, you were consumed by the dread of losing him to the elements since war had proven too clement. At night you lay abed and reread the one bit of handwriting you had from him, that damned poem he had written out, left under your door in the early dawn that had taken him from you.

My lost youth. That was the title of the thing. It cut like glass every time you read it, but Buck had touched that paper and looped those letters and dotted those i’s and it was precious to you. It became a prayer of sorts.

“There are things of which I may not speak;

There are dreams that cannot die;

There are thoughts that make the strong heart weak,

And bring a pallor into the cheek,

And a mist before the eye.

And the words of that fatal song

Come over me like a chill:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Strange to me now are the forms I meet

When I visit the dear old town;

But the native air is pure and sweet,

And the trees that o’ershadow each well-known street,

As they balance up and down,

Are singing the beautiful song,

Are sighing and whispering still:—

“A boy’s will is the wind’s will,

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.”

Then, in January, as if prayers got heard, the most unexpected happened.

Major Gale Cleven, what was left of him after cold, starvation, murder and a treck across Europe, had returned. Things like this, seeing your lost beloved ride up to your workplace in the shotgun seat of a jeep, was the stuff of movies, hopeful propaganda or a woman’s mind that had finally cracked. You just stood there, welding helmet in hand, frozen rain spitting down at you, watching him jump out, watching Harry tear down from the observation tower to embrace him.

Dully, you could hear behind you Segreant Lemmons kind cheer of “so it was true, he got away from the bastards!” and a congratulatory thump between your shoulder blades. It was a moment of truth, to realize how far your faith had dwindled when the very answer to your prayers stood steaming with life in the cold air and yet you still could not accept it as reality.

“Baby.” his hands were warm compared to your damp cheeks and the span of them, so familiar and large, cupping your jaw with the calloused thumbs swiping at your temples, that was reminiscent of August and of happier days. Yet still, you had dreamed of him doing this, dreamed of a million different embraces and each time you woke up. “Baby, I’m back, I came to ya.” his voice was wrecked, from disuse and illness and whatever misery that had subjected him to. That, that was real enough, the rattling cough more so, you’d imagined his suffering in your worst nightmares too, this was something you could believe.

Familiar flesh was gaunt under your touch, gray cheeks where once there’d been freckles and the sinful pout of his once ruby red mouth was a dull violet, as if the vitality had been leached out of him. “What’d they do to my cherub?” you mourned, worst nightmares and wildest hopes blending into this one moment.

“Don’t cry, don’t cry f’me, I’m back. I came back.” he cooed to you, rough and sad himself, and your face was buried again in the placard of his coat, a great woolen overcoat this time, no fleece or any vestige of the swanky finery that got the flyboys ribbed for being soft, fancy, spoiled.

Nothing soft about these men, nothing gentle about their lot, nothing glamorous about being hurled down from the skies in a ball of fire.

“We kept praying for you.” you realized, it seemed important to tell him that however hopeless you all had felt, you’d gone through the motions anyway.

That was faith, wasn’t it? The hope of things not seen?

“I felt ‘em.” he said. “How else you think I managed it?”

It. -had managed it, that tiny word represented a host of terrors and miseries and unforgettable incidents that ricocheted in his brain like the lead fired into his boys head’s when they couldn’t manage a forced march, barefoot and underfed, in the snow.

Christmas had passed but January was not so very advanced, that evening your family turned back the clock and it was a matter of guessing as to who was celebrated more, baby Jesus or Buck Cleven. The two seemed intertwined at this point and in the warm glow of gas lamps and rationed toddy, with Buck’s hollow cheeks beginning to bloom and his dull eyes starting to animate, some part of you finally understood why so many felt worshipful on the holiday. The shit war rations felt like a feast, mama’s canned vegetables being the freshest thing he’d eaten in ages and with him sat at table again, empty chair filled, his hand creeping into your lap to lace with your own, there was peace.

Even the airforce, hard driving and high demanding though it was, took one look at his battered condition and admitted a period of conveyance was due. It wouldn’t do to send up a shoddy pilot, lose another plane, yet another crew or a hero of the hundredth. It’s not every day one of your squadron leaders escapes a POW camp and marches over occupied Europe and fordes the Channel to get back home.

A month was set aside. And you took as many weekday passes as you could during that month, happier than anything that he had been permitted to stay in town, to lodge with one of the locals. Rafe’s room was now occupied by him and mama’s broth was poured down Gale’s throat twice daily and his days kept busy with paperwork and Donald’s math problems. The ticking clock, the passing days, like the evil crocodile gobbling up time, was politely and britishly ignored in favor of enjoying what was. You no longer slept with the tear stained and crumpled poem clasped to your throat but his head lay there often enough instead. The thump of your heart helping him sleep, because exhausted and sick as he was, sleep and solitude were not comforts.

He was wracked with guilt for leaving Egan and his men behind, it had been every man for himself during that brutal forced march, he knew that and yet he’d left a friend behind. Buck waited for news of Egan like you’d waited for news of him. Nameless and senseless guilt ruining much of his own success and peace.

“He’d have expected nothing less of you.” you had taken to reminding him, “He’d be angry if you hadn’t taken the opportunity like you did.”

“I know.” he agreed miserably.

You admitted to him then, the horrid guilt of feeling that somehow, some missed defect or some lousy flaw had been the reason he’d been downed. Your work somehow not sufficient to keep him in the skies. When you’d admitted as much, Sergeant Lemmons had looked at you with all the censure such moronic introspection deserved: “Cleven got bombed to hell. He expected it, daytime raid and all. Blame the Nazis.”

“Blame the Nazis.” you suggested now to Gale as he lay sprawled in your arms, sweaty and feverish but his color was back and he looked pretty as anything so alive and near.

He looked ready to dare something, his face hovering nearer yours and the heavy weight of his limbs suddenly feeling full of intent but then his sparkling eye caught sight of something in the doorway and his lips quirked and his body shifted away.

“Whatcha doin’ sulkin’ out there Donny?” he addressed your brother and sure enough the little scamp emerged from the shadow of the doorway and joined you two on the bed, comic book clutched in his hands. They had a routine, apparently, Papa was no longer the chosen one for bedtime stories. It made you want to wince in anticipation for when Buck would move back to base and things would become full of dread again.

That day came sooner than you’d counted on. A month is not so very long, after all, and it was filled with so much work and business, stolen moments at home hardly being the norm.

“It’s an easy mission.” he’d said at dinner, as if arguing the point to you all. You knew he was trying to convince himself more than anything and so you all let him specify just how easy, how routine, how utterly unworrying tomorrow's flight would -should- be.

If it’s hard to get back into the saddle after being bucked off, how much worse to climb back into a plane after being tossed from the skies.

That evening he lounged on your bed instead of Rafe’s, the house emptied as your mother and father took Donny to the movies, the appeal of a new film finally showing cited as being too alluring to resist. He was lost in his thoughts, watching you go about your little evening routines that you tried to maintain when at home. It was domestic and cozy, warm where the world outside was cold and then there was Buck, golden as anything in the low lamp light, utterly unaware of the figure he cut lying on his side.

“I’ve missed it.” he told you, “Flying, I’ve missed it.”

“Of course you have. You were born for it.” you murmured.

“Ya know,” he reflected, “I signed up for the Air Force before it all got hot, before Pearl Harbor. I was gonna fly no matter what. I remember grittin’ my teeth durin’ training and tellin’ myself it would all be worth it. Just hang in there and it would pay off. I just felt something important would need me. Hell, guess I got more than I ever bargained for, didn’t I?”

“I guess you did.” you agreed.

“I couldn’t do this if I didn’t believe in it.” He insisted and you knew he was talking to himself again, until his face turned towards yours and the softest look of fondness crossed features turning them almost pained when he said next, “I couldn’t do it, get back up there, if it weren’t for love. The rightness of it but -love, for my boys, my family. For you.”

“I know, and we’re terribly lucky to have your devotion. -And…and I love you, too.” you vowed earnestly, then giggled at the absurdity of this being the first time to admit it.

“I’d had my suspicions.” he grinned back, some of that old cockiness returning along with his vigor as he snagged your wrist and pulled you down beside him.

“Do you know why my parents have gone?” you asked him pointedly, turning on your side to face him.

“To see a movie.” His face was so innocently perplexed you almost lost control of yourself and ruined the game right then with something terribly forward.

“My parents aren’t in the habit of seeing movies.” you corrected him soberly.

“No?”

“No.”

“So where’d they go?” Buck asked.

“Oh they’re at the movies.” you smirked, “But they’ve gone for us.”

Gale’s eyes narrowed in suspicion, if not of you then of his own naïveté. “For us.” he repeated and his voice had dropped an octave in the interim.

“Yes. Something about wanting us to have a goodbye.” you quoted.

“I’m not dying tomorrow.” he pointed his finger firmly in your face and it made you smile to see him so fiesty again.

“No,” you agreed with his prophecy, “but I wanted to give you some incentive to hurry back.”

“Oh?” those lips of his puckered again in confusion before his smarts caught up with him and the pink corner tugged up in mischief, “Ooooh.” he repeated, suddenly very close, his energy, his body, his heart, inches from being one with you. “Are you sure?”

“Yes, oh yes.” you confirmed, slotting your lips against his gently only to be met with eager, desperate need in his own kisses.

Your childhood bed was narrow and the counterpane below you familiar and dear, stitched by your mother in colors you’d once wished to update upon entering maturity. Now, laid out in perfect security and familiarity, you watched Buck Cleven dangle a toe off the abyss before diving in, pausing to caress the blanket beside your hip, smiling to himself.

“What?” you were breathless to know every thought in that dear head.

“My mama made me one, looks lots like this.” his eyes were watery soft yet his smile was glad, his hips narrow and sharp in the cradle of your own, stark hipbones not yet padded by your mother’s cooking pressed you down into the bedding, grounded and right. “You’ve made me real at home here.” he whispered and it pleased you ever so much. “Do I dare take this last liberty?” he muttered as if to himself, even as those blue orbs bore into your own, his fingers fiddling with the hem of your skirt and you ached from need long deferred and the weight of remedy lying heavy between your thighs.

“It’s no liberty,” you whispered, catching his dog tags and bringing his face to yours, the size of the man so very apparent now he was hovering above you, “it’s yours.” you watched his pupils blow out at the statement, his ragged breath fanned minty across your face, even angels wield swords. “I’m yours.”

“And I’m yours.” he concluded.

With that exchange of truths something snapped between you, like a ribbon cut, gone was the hesitant cordiality and deference that had marked your courtship. Here now was fierce possession and the gloated satisfaction of those who possess something cherished and are no longer kept from partaking of it, buckles and garters snapped in the quiet room and the rustle of sheets and shirts wafting to the floor made your breaths hitch with anticipation. Precious flesh came into touch with every brush and it was enough for many minutes merely to cling and grasp, imprinting desire into the back and the arms and the throat of each other, like an armor of love against the decay of death.

“Yours, yours.” you swore as his finger played you once more, his breathing hard and rough in your ear, harsh commands for you to say it again and again, reminding you he was fearsome when he wanted to be.

“Don’t look,” he begged when you realized through a haze of joy what he was about, pressing in with all the finesse of a cricket bat knocking at the wicket, hoarse and doe eyed above you, there was only the whine, “please, darlin’ don’t look, just, my eyes, please.”

It was a fumbling entry but nature and pleasure prevailed, as it had since the first couple. And dear boy that he was, he knew you had indulged in a leg up, one or two at least, before he came along but still, he could not bear it for you to see more, not this time. He wanted it just to be the kisses and the sight of your precious face contorting at the fullness of your belly and the force of his hunger for you. All the rest were vulgar details left somewhere under your skirts, and, unbeknownst to him, reflected in your childhood mirror situated on the wall behind his plump arse.

“Oh god.” he had choked out, winded and in awe as his body shook at the feel of you accepting him deep, “You’re a slice of heaven, heaven that’s-that’s what you fee- oh god, oh god.”

He had giggled at the absurdity of this dance and then broke off with a moan that made you giggle in turn and back and forth it went as his body jerked into yours as if he’d no control over it, led quite literally by the part of himself buried inside you. He knew it was foal-like and a poor showing as a lover and he also knew you didn’t care a bit, your eyes wide at the size of the intrusion and captivated by the sight of his newly enlightened face.

“You alright?” he asked urgently, as a sudden and familiar feeling took over his body. The feeling of his brakes giving out, his flaps malfunctioning, the hydraulics failing -it took over him, his spine tingling and his vision beginning to blur and only your punched out gasps and sweet smile wavering on his horizon as the frantic, masculine, natural need to drive in deep enough to puncture your heart seized him and propelled him in you, against you, above you with such force you forgot to breath. For all Egan’s teasing of Buck’s hatred for athletics, the man wasn’t shabby when it came down to it, even after months of internment, or maybe due to that stolen time, his life force seemed to pour out in a torrent and your belly buzzed at the sweet abuse.

“I’m perfect.” you managed at some point, “You’re perfect, so perfect.”

He shuddered at the praise and as if terror struck him then, he was suddenly pulling away and moaning “I should- I shouldn’t -I’m gonna, darlin, I’m gonna lose it-“ and young and sweet and clumsy as anything he rutted against your slick frantically, mouth pressed to yours until the hot gush of his satisfaction spilled out and added to the mind fuzzing feel of him sliding against your little pearl.

You encouraged his shaky limbs to collapse on you, the lanky frame of him a sweet weight, sweaty cheek pressed to your breast, you could feel the dopey curve of his smile against your plump flesh. His hair curled at the nape from the sweat of his exertions, all winter chill forgotten in this bed. War and missions and bombs, too. You petted each other for a while before he raised his head and, gazing at you adoringly, he murmured “thank you.” his nose nudging yours and the steadiest of kisses lingering in the tingly aftermath.

“Darlin?” he broached the subject a while later, cheek again pressed to your chest and his fingers sliding in a hypnotic caress over your thigh.

“Yeah, Buck?”

“Later,” he prefaced, tentative and raw, “when -when the war’s over, and when, well, when I can make my own promises…”

Your heart hammered beneath his ear and you squeezed your legs around him, as if to shore him up enough to say what you wanted him to say so very badly. “Yes?”

“Would you marry me then?” he begged and somehow you knew this, what you had just indulged in, was never going to happen without that hope for him.

Perhaps that’s why it felt so strong, like a communion of souls more than anything else. “I’ve half a mind to make you wait and get my answer when you come back tomorrow.” you teased and his head reared up with a dangerous glint in his eye.

“Don’t you dare.” he warned, grin breaking out despite himself.

The sound of the front latch grating on the door startled you both but he pressed you down when you went to scamper and clothe yourself. “The door’s closed anyway,” he argued in a whisper but you knew he felt as nervous as you at being caught, if not more so, yet still he was a stubborn one. His hand was firm and large clasping your cheek, expression arch and expectant. “Promise you’ll be a good little girl and say yes when I do ask.”

You laughed at his gall, to make you wait, to make you promise when he wasn’t even proposing. But then again -you had said you were his, and he was yours. It had already been done. Sometimes life was as simple as Gale Cleven made it out to be.

“I promise.” you whispered happily, bringing him back down to your embrace and willing away thoughts of tomorrow and flagging him out to danger.

One day he’d come back for good. One you could make promises again. Until then, there was hope.

Thank you for reading and I hope you enjoyed. Feedback is a writers lifeblood, I’d adore hearing your thoughts. 💋

[nobodysdaydreams]

I already know the Wizard is probably gonna be so scared of Dorothy for so many reasons.

First of all, she’s from our world and from the same region of the US, so she knows exactly where he’s from and the technology he’s using to fake his magic. In fact, if time in Oz and Kansas/Nebraska are moving at the same rate, Dorothy should be from a time period ahead of when the Wizard came to Oz and should be able to easily explain most of his “magic”.

Second of all, the Grimmerie’s prophecy is that it will be read by someone from the sky in Oz’s darkest hour. Obviously, that’s Elphaba counteracting the Wizard, but the Wizard has everyone convinced it was him fixing things after the drought. But now, Oz is under “threat” of the witch and a young girl from his world shows up, kills the sister of the Wizard’s enemy, and has a dog with her, possibly a talking one. Everyone thinks Dorothy is super powerful, she fits exactly what the Grimmerie predicted, and she has everything she needs to expose the Wizard. He’d be terrified.

This is how I picture it going down:

Some guard: “The girl is quite powerful, sir. She came from the sky and immediately killed the Wicked Witch of the East. She claims it was easy, unintentional even!”

The Wizard (to himself): “Nothing to worry about. That was technically Morrible’s doing, the fact that she came from the sky is coincidental. I’m certain she has no real power.”

The guard: “She also acquired the dead witch’s shoes and when the Wicked Witch of the West showed up to take them, it was discovered the witch had no power over the girl.”

The Wizard (trying not to freak out): “You mean…Elphaba was powerless to stop this new witch-killing visitor from the sky? One that killed her sister and stole her property? You don’t say. And um… did the girl happen to say where she was from?”

The guard: “Yes. Kansas. She claims it’s a place without magic or talking animals.”

The Wizard (slowly becoming paranoid and trying to play it off): “Oh really? Haha… how silly. Never heard of a place called Kansas or anywhere without magic seeing as I’m clearly a powerful Wizard. And um… where is this girl now?”

The guard: “Why, she’s on the way to the Emerald City right now along with two animals, a least one of which can talk, and two men cursed by the Witch of the West. Apparently, they want to see you, specifically.”

The Wizard (sweating): “They want to see ME? I mean um…who wouldn’t? Haha… but whatever for?”

The guard: “Well, they’re demanding you fix the condition of the two men the witch cursed, give the girl passage home, and help the talking lion overcome his trauma. Seeing as they are celebrated throughout Oz for killing one wicked witch for us, surely it is appropriate and well within your power to grant their requests immediately.”

The Wizard (slipping into madness and frantically trying to hide it): “Indeed it is I am a generous man yes, and I can totally do that for sure, yes of course, I have the power, but first, let’s take them all prisoner upon arrival just in case can never be too careful these days.”

The guard: “Sir… are you saying you want us to…”

The Wizard (shouting and trembling in fear): “Throw that little girl in prison, put those Animals in cages, and keep the two the witch cursed out of my sight! Tell them I’m busy! Tell them I have the flu! Tell them I’m out of town! Any excuse, I don’t care what it is, and whatever you do, DO NOT let that girl escape!”

By this point, the Wizard is paranoid out of his mind, assuming they are on the way to kill and/or expose him and given the company Dorothy keeps, it’s unlikely the Wizard will be very successful in getting her on his side. His goal would likely be to cage the Animals, find a way to deal with Boq and Fiyero (if he even recognizes them), and capture Dorothy as a potential enemy.

Maybe Elphaba writing “Surrender Dorothy” in the sky with her broom in this version of the story isn’t asking Dorothy herself to surrender, but demanding the Wizard to give Dorothy up because he takes her prisoner out of fear that she will expose him and the Wizard lets her go on the condition that she proves her loyalty by killing the Witch. The Wizard probably figures it’s a win/win for him: either Elphaba or Dorothy will die, and one of his enemies will destroy the other. What he wouldn’t expect is them working together, because as far as he knows, Dorothy has stolen the witch’s sister’s shoes and befriended two men cursed by the witch.

[straylightdream]

dress - They got no idea about me and you

𝐟𝐞𝐚𝐭: lee jihoon x f.reader

↳ Say my name and everything just stops. I don't want you like a best friend. Only bought this dress so you could take it off.

𝐠𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞: friends to lovers, secret lovers, non idol au

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: so much angst, emotional jihoon, jealous jihoon, drinking, see smut warnings below

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2.7k

𝐚𝐧: inspired by the Taylor swift song of the same name. You can also fill out this form helping me pick songs for the other boys here. The rest or the boys stories will be in my svt m.list.

if you would like to be tagged please fill out this form.

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: unprotected sex(mc is on birth control), creampie, breeding kink, body worship, jealous jihoon, oral (both rec), dirty talk

In a crowded bar on the east side wasnt how you planned on spending your Saturday night. Your original plan to stay at Jihoon house went out the window when his roommate Jeonghan brought a girl home unexpectedly. You were going to move your movie night to your place but Seungkwan had other plans. The moment Jihoon showed up Seungkwan forced you to go to the bar with him. Your roommate had this wild idea to try and hook up with Mingyu. Jihoon was pissed when he heard about Seungkwan’s idea. This all stems from the fact none of your friends know about what you and Jihoon do behind closed doors. From the outside people just think Jihoon is your best friend. They don’t know that you crossed the line six months ago. Things all changed one night when you got drunk on wine together and had sex on his living room couch.

Leaning against the wall, he pretended to pay attention to the game of pool that Soonyoung and Seungkwan are playing. His real focus is on you while you stand at the bar drinking your favorite fruity cocktail while Mingyu is clearly flirting with you.

Jihoon is pretty sure he’s loved you since he met you. He thinks back to the first time you met back in college. According to you he found you at your lowest point in your life. Everything in your life was falling apart, you had been cut off from your parents and the boy you gave up everything for was cheating on you. Jihoon found you crying your eyes out at the library. He made it his mission to make sure you were never that sad again. He barely knew you for a week when you crashed at his apartment for two weeks while he helped you find a roommate. He’s the reason you now live with Seungkwan. That was six years ago. Since then things between the two of you have been very different. Now Jihoon can barely keep it hidden how in love with you he is. He wasn’t sure if you felt the same way so he made the decision to take whatever you wanted to give him. He started this friends with benefits because he thought that was all you wanted.

“Jihoon,” Seungkwan yells. He must have been zoning out for a while if Seungkwan noticed. “Can you stop glaring at Mingyu?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes trying to act like he wasn’t staring. “I just zoned out, I wasn't even paying attention to him.”

“I don’t know what this is but I’m going to go order a drink for me and my girl. She’ll be here soon.”

Seungkwan leaned against the pool table. “Ji, when was the last time you got laid? You seem like extra tension right now.” Seungkwan didn’t need to know that he had sex with you last night after you finished your shift at work.

“Boo knock it off,” he rolls his eyes.

“Do you think Mingyu and (YN) will make a good pair?” Seungkwan asked completely oblivious to Jihoon's jealousy.

Jihoon takes a deep breath trying to not snap at his friend. He also doesn’t want to give away what had been going on between you and him.

Before Jihoon can say anything else Soonyoung’s girlfriend walks into the bar with Vernon in tow with her. He’s happy her arrival will distract Seungkwan so he’ll leave him alone.

Walking outside Jihoon takes a moment to get some fresh air. The chilled air feels nice against his warm skin. Leaning against the brick wall he tries to push away all the little negative thoughts that seem to be swimming around his head. He’s wondering if maybe he should stop his arrangement with you. Maybe you could be with Mingyu or someone else.

“You disappeared on me,” you say walking outside. His eyes travel your body admiring the black dress he’s never seen you wear before.

“Sorry,” he sighs. “Shouldn’t you be with Mingyu?”

“No.”

Closing his eyes he leans his back against the brick wall. “You and him would make a good couple.”

“What the fuck?” You have no clue why he’s saying this. You’ve never mentioned anything about having any interest in anyone other than Jihoon. “I don’t want anyone other than you.”

“Maybe someone else would be better for you than me,” he sighs.

Wrapping your arms around your stomach you feel like you want to cry. You aren’t sure why Jihoon is acting like he doesn’t want you anymore. “I don’t want anyone else.”

“Why me?” He looks at you with pain behind his eyes.

“Do you want a goddamn list of all the reasons I only want you?” You say trying not to get upset.

He steps towards you. He feels like an asshole for how this conversation is going. “Why does everything between us just feel like a secret?” You don’t say anything, you just silently stare at him. “I feel like all I ever do is pine for you and wait patiently for my moments alone with you. I feel like my hands are constantly shaking from holding back from being able to touch you.” You still haven’t said anything, you're just silently staring at him as tears start to fall. “Please say something, I’m begging if you say anything.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“Fucking anything. I feel like I’m going crazy right now.” He steps away from you.

“I don’t want you just to be my best friend.” You practically yell. He turns back towards you. Without even thinking he backs your body up against the brick wall. He cages you in with his arms. “Jihoon I don’t know what the fuck is going on. But I have never said or done anything that would make you think I could possibly want anyone other than you.”

“Why is it all a secret?” He pleads, he can’t hide how upset he is any longer.

“Because I was fucking scared,” you cry. “I don’t know how to properly love someone anymore. And I was fucking terrified that if everyone knew what was going on, if we broke up or I messed up everyone would blame me.”

His hand rests on your cheek and you flinch not expecting him to touch you. “I would never hurt you,” he whispers.

“I know,” he’s never hurt you and never would. You just weren’t prepared to be touched. “I don’t have a family anymore. You and the boys are my family. I’m scared that I’m going to lose the family I have chosen.”

“Please let me love you. I don’t want any more secrets. I can’t keep doing this whole secret lovers thing.” You don’t say anything, you just lean forward, crashing your lips into his. You tangle your fingers in his long hair pulling him closer to you.

“Maybe we should leave,” he says with his lips ghosting yours.

“I think we should,” you pull away from him.

Taking your hand in yours he leads you back into the bar. “Say a quick goodbye to Mingyu. I'm taking you home.” He lets go of your hand long enough for you to say a quick goodbye before he takes your hand in his and leads you towards the door. Jihoon glaced at the bar to see Seungkwan smiling. He gives Jihoon a knowing nod before he takes you away.

The drive back to your place is filled with silence. Jihoon grips the steering wheel focusing on driving. You are not sure what caused him to get so upset but you know you’re to blame.

Walking into your two bedroom apartment you share with Seungkwan, Jihoon shuts and locks the door. Taking off your shoes you stand in front of him in the black sparkly dress you had bought just for him.

“I’ve never seen you wear that before,” he finally speaks up since you’ve been alone.

“I bought it just for you. I was hoping you would take it off of me,” you push your fingers through your hair. When you agreed to go out with everyone to the bar you made an effort to look cute for Jihoon. You were hoping you would go to the bar for a little while and then return back to your apartment to ravish each other. You even wore a new lingerie set just for him.

“What’s happening here?” He asked, taking his shoes off.

“Jihoon I don’t know. We were fine when we left my apartment and suddenly things feel like they’re falling apart.”

He steps towards you. His hand gently rests on your cheek. “I don’t want things to fall apart, I just want you.”

Closing your eyes you whisper, “you already have me.”

“I want all of you. I don’t want any more secrets.” Leaning forward he rested his nose against yours.

“I’ll be whatever you want me to be.”

“Okay, that means I’m not going to hide what we have anymore,” your lips touch for the first time since this all started tonight. Instant relief washes over you, knowing that things are going to be okay.

Taking his hand in yours you lead him off to your room. Shutting the door he walks up behind you. “Am I still allowed to be the one who takes off your dress?”

“Yes.”

Pushing your hair out of the way he slides the zipper down on your sparkly black dress. He pushed down the thin straps. Gently he leaves a trail of kisses down your spine. There is a pool black sparkly fabric at your feet. Delicate hands run down your sides. Closing your eyes you take in his touch. His fingers toy with the thin straps of your bra.

“I’m you’re to fully undress,” you say.

Unclasping your bra he reaches in front of you massaging your breast. His hands gently tweak your nipples earning a moan from you. “I love you,” whispers before pressing his lips to your shoulder.

You have always questioned why Jihoon chose to love you. You had always been quite guarded and rarely even told your parents you loved them before everything fell apart. But before you even started all this with Jihoon, when you were just friends he would always say he loved you when he would say goodbye.

“You’ve always loved me,” you whispered.

“I have always loved you, but now I’m hopelessly in love with you.” Your body feels warm at the idea of him being so in love with you.

Walking around you, he stands in front of you. He holds your face in both hands. Before he leans in to kiss you.

Pulling back he drops down to his knees and slides your thong down your thighs. Nudging your leg slightly apart. He presses a kiss to your mound. Glancing up at you through his lashes. You learned very early on once you and Jihoon started sleeping together he was very skilled with his tongue. This man easily knew how to make you fall apart with just tongue. His hands hold your thighs.

Fingers tangled in his hair as eats you out like a man starved. He fucks you with his tongue while his nose nudges your sensitive clit over and over again.

“Ji-“ you moan. He doesn’t say anything, he just glances up at you again. “Fuck-“ you whine desperately on the brink of falling apart. His hand grips your ass pulling you closer to him. One more brush of his nose against your clit sends you over the edge. Your eyes roll back in your head as a white hot wave washes over you.

Sitting back he smiles up at you. Wiping your release off his mouth with the back of his hand. Stepping back you sit on the edge of your bed trying to slowly come down from your high.

“I need you naked,” you sigh.

Standing up he does exactly what you asked him to. He pulls off his sweater and slowly unbuckles his belt. He stops as he starts to unbutton his jeans. “Are you enjoying the show?”

You stay silent and just bite your lips staring at him. He pushes his jeans down his strong thighs. You’ll never get over the sight of him naked. His beautiful skin on display and his taunt abs he’s gotten from his hour he’s spent at the gym with Soonyoung. His cock is just as beautiful as the rest of him.

“What do you want to do now?” He asked, walking towards you.

“I want to make you feel good like you just made me good.”

“I’m yours to do anything you want.”

Sitting on your hunches slowly you lick up his length. Slowly you pump the base while licking his flushed head. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moans. You were never a fan of giving head before you started seeing Jihoon. There was something about going down on him that turned you on. You couldn’t get enough of it now. There are some nights you’ll both just go down on each other and skip having sex.

One hand plays with his balls as you take him in your mouth. Your tongue dragging against the vein that runs underneath.

His hand pull your hair away from your face in a makeshift ponytail.

“Fuck-“ he moans. You glance up at him through your lashes. He looks like he’s on the brink of falling apart. “Baby you have to stop or I’m gonna cum in your mouth,” he gently pulls you off him. “I need to finish inside you.”

He takes your hand helping you up. Crawling onto the bed you lay in the middle spreading your legs. He hovers over you. He pushes into you, earning a gasp.

“You were made for me,” he moans, thrusting slowly.

“You feel so fucking good.”

Hooking your leg over his back, your heel rests just above his butt holding him closer to you. One hand talons into his shoulder while the other tangles in his hair. His nose is resting against yours. His lips are slightly parted as he slowly thrust into you.

“I love you,” you say the three words you often don’t say. If anyone is deserving of those words it’s the boy who has done nothing but made you know what it’s like to be loved.

“Say it again,” he moans.

“I love you Jihoon.” He picks up his pace moaning your name. Pushing on his chest he slows down and pulls his face away from you. “On your back please. I want to ride you.”

With little effort he flips you both over so he’s below you. Resting on your knees you ride him at a quicker speed. Reaching up he takes plays with your breast. Not missing an opportunity to tweak your nipples.

“I’m gonna-“ you whine.

“Are you going to come?” Desperately you nod unable to form words. “Come for me baby.”

Your hands rest on his chest as you pick up your speed. His finger finds your clit. He plays with it helping you fall apart.

“Can I come inside you?” He asks, approaching his own high.

“I need you to fill me up,” you whine.

“I’m gonna fill you up until it’s leaking out of you,” you love when he talks to you like this when he is desperate to come.

His final few thrust are sloppy before he paints your walls white. He shoots rope after rope, he doesn’t think he’s ever came this hard in his life.

You stop moving just enjoying the feeling of him still inside you. He sits up holding you close as he kisses you.

“I love you (YN).”

“I love you too.”

“I need to clean you up. I’m scared we’re gonna get cum on your bed.” You can’t help but smile at the fact he’s now worried about making a mess with his cum. Reaching over on your nightstand he grabs some tissues handing them to you. You crawl off of him and he immediately starts wiping away his cum that is already leaking out of you.

“Let’s shower,” you say.

That night everything changed but you knew it was for the better. You and Jihoon we’re officially together and it didn’t matter who knew.

[j2hoes]

Foreign Exchanges. (Anthony Vaughn x Reader.)

Summary: Moving school in the middle of the year is never easy. Let alone from an entirely different country. Despite Y/N trying to garner the least amount of attention possible, she still manages to catch the eye of a certain brunette.

Word Count: 1.5k

Gif Not Mine . Requests are open!

Warnings: Mature language.

A/N: My first Ant fic and I’m debating making this a series but you’ll have to let me know what you think! Anyway just a short one to start us off but there’ll be more soon. Don’t forget requests are open!

“I’d like you all to offer a warm welcome to our new student Y/N Y/L/N, she’s moved here all the way from the UK! So let’s show her some of that Hartley spirit.” The teacher, who introduced herself as Jojo, announces to the class. All of them staring at me with blank stares. “Go ahead and say a few words.”

She nudges my shoulder gently before I can decline the offer. Encouraging smile on her face. There are no smiles from my classmates however, only bored faces who couldn’t be less interested in my arrival. For which I’m grateful. I’d seen this school on the news prior to my enrolment, I know these students are brutal. I mean, a sex map? Dad wasn’t too happy about sending me here though he didn’t really have a choice, no other schools were admitting students this late into the term.

“Um hi, I’m Y/N. It’s good to be here I guess.”

“Does anybody have any questions for Y/N?” Jojo offers, attempting to find a way for the class to get to me.

Numerous hands raise and I let out a groan internally. It’s bad enough that I’m stood at the front of the classroom like a new shiny toy but to now be subject to whatever ridiculous questions these teens can come up with is a new form of torture. One that I am really not looking forward to.

Jojo points to her first student, allowing them to be the first to ask. “Why don’t you have a proper British accent?” The girl seems genuinely curious, eyes focused on me as she combs her fingers through her orange hair. Stickers adorn her face along with colourful eyeshadow to match her bright outfit. She has a gentle aura surrounding her, which makes me relieved as I realise her question wasn’t meant in malice and more so pure interest. Maybe these kids won’t be so bad?

“Um, I think the accent you’re think of is the Queen’s English. There isn’t many people that talk like that really, maybe a few down south but I grew up in the North East. None of us talk posh.” I tell her, watching as she seems to take notes as I speak.

“Thank you Quinni, Spider what about you?” Jojo asks, pointing to the tall blonde that is hunched over at the back of the class.

His eyes flicker up to me, giving me the once over though he doesn’t seem too impressed by my presence.

“Yeah, what is it with you and all the other poms having bad teeth?” The boy pipes up, I notice the two boys next to him laugh. Though the one in the baggy outfit makes eye contact with me and a flash of guilt appears on his face.

“I don’t have bad teeth actually. Nobody I know does and to be perfectly honest, that stereotype is deeply rooted in classism and while the UK faces a major cost of living and wealth gap crisis, I don’t think it’s funny to joke about things like that. Do you?” I retort, causing h the pink haired girl and her friend to applaud my mini speech. Both offering cheers.

“Okay any more questions that aren’t going to cause arguments?” Jojo asks, a few hands lowering as they don’t want to get in trouble. “Yes, Amerie?”

“Do you miss home?”

“Yeah, yeah I really miss it.” I start, thinking of everything that I had to leave behind. I know this was the best decision for my family, but I do hold a slight resentment towards being here. “Don’t get me wrong, Sydney’s great and all, but I miss my friends, my house, my pets, I even miss the shitty pub from down the street.”

“Thank you Y/N, I feel like we’ve got to know you a little bit more now, so feel free to take a seat and we’ll get started.”

The only open seat is next to the girl that Jojo called Amerie. Smiling as I take my place, I open my notebook and begin to doodle swirls and other patterns across the page. Focusing on that rather than the subject being taught. It’s some form of sex education by the sounds of it. However, it seems very outdated and heteronormative. Nothing worth listening to anyway.

Upon hearing the bell ring, I begin to pack away my things and watch as a few students mutter things towards Amerie. “Map bitch.” “Cunt.” and “Crazy bitch.” Just to name a few. I realise that may be the reason she had nobody sat next to her and figure it may be best to avoid her if I want to stay under everybody’s radar.

Finding my locker, I begin to turn the lock with great difficulty. Back home, the numbers simply connect and the door clicks open, that doesn’t seem to be the case here though. Fiddling with the dial, I hear the bell signal the beginning of the next class and I huff, annoyed that I’m having this much trouble with a stupid locker.

As the hallways clears out, I continue to twist and pull at the lock. Bag dumped on the floor as I try with all my strength to pry the door open. With no such luck, I throw a quick kick to the locker beneath mine, leaving a dent in the door slightly. Slumping with my back again the metal, I find myself face to face with the boy in the baggy outfit.

Not previously noticing how cute he was, dark hair hidden beneath a beanie, a couple of curls escaping. Boyish grin plastered across his face and piercing brown eyes staring directly at me. I won’t even try to deny that Australia has one up on the Uk in terms of boys, they’re just so much cuter over here.

“What did the locker do to you?” He jokes, taking the slip of paper with the locker code out of my hand.

“Bloody thing won’t open.” I mumble, stepping out of the way as he demonstrates how to open it with ease. My cheeks tinged pink as I fear my outburst may have been unnecessary.

“I thought you Brits were supposed to be good at containing your emotions anyway.” He leans against the locker beside mine, watching me as I stuff countless books into the small space. Normally this would make me uncomfortable, yet there’s there’s something about him that makes me feel warm and calm.

“Nah we love our fair share of violence.” I tell him, smiling as I do so, remembering the amount of fights that used to take place on my estate daily. Providing free entertainment for all the neighbours. “We’re polite, but piss us off and we’ll knock you into next week.”

He laughs, folding his arms across his chest as I close the locker door. His eyes gaze over me as I turn to face him properly. Noticing the small cross necklace hanging from his neck, I can’t help but imagine what it would look like against his bare skin.

“You religious?” I ask, nodding towards the chain.

“Nah, I’m Ant.” He brushes off my question and tucks the necklace beneath his shirt. Clearly a touchy subject that perhaps I shouldn’t have brought up. So instead I attempt to lighten the mood.

“Ant?” The word escapes my mouth as a slight giggle, unable to hide the amusement his name brings. “And your mate’s called Spider?”

“Yeah, stupid right?” He chuckles, playing with the straps of his bag. Almost as if he’s nervous. “We’ve been best mates our entire lives. My real name’s Anthony but nobody calls me that. Same with Spider, his name’s Spencer. Kids started to call us Ant and Spider when we were like six, guess it just stuck.”

“That’s cute.”

Picking up my bag, I throw it over my shoulder. Figuring I should probably head to my next class despite being extremely late already.

“Hey, about Spider.” Ant reaches for my arm, clearly sensing that I’m about to leave. “I just wanted to apologise, he can be a bit of a dick but he’s a nice guy deep down.”

My arm tingles where he’s touching it, feeling the slightest of move of his fingers. As though my nerves are on fire. Suddenly hypersensitive to any little movement he makes. I know I shouldn’t be feeling things this intensely, hell, I’ve just met the guy. Yet he sparks an excitement in me that I haven’t felt in a while.

“Honestly it’s sound. You don’t need to apologise.” I assure him, offering a smile, I see his shoulders relax. “I can handle a prick like him any day.”

“Yeah you certainly shot him down quick.”

As he removes his hand from my arm, I’m quick to begin walking away. Cheesy grin on my face as I recall the interaction in my head despite it only happening seconds ago. I feel dizzy with excitement, my feet feel like they’re walking on clouds and I almost miss the shout from behind me as I go to turn the corner.

“Hey, do you wanna get high?”

[crookedteethed]

18+

⋆ ★ You weren't even a fan, but here you were fucking the band's drummer in his tour bus. <3

Pairing: band!rafe x fem!reader

(a/n: posting this so y'all don't think I passed away😍😍😍 ps: I imagine rafe being a pouge in this. )

"For fuck sakes Cameron! Would'ja unlock the goddamn door?!" JJ, the bands guitarist struck the bus door as if it been his electric guitar.

"I'm coming, hold your horses!" Rafe yelled back, his voice muffled by the thick door. You could picture him rolling his eyes and a smirk playing on his lips. "Just giving our guest here the grand tour."

The bus fell silent for a moment--beside from the squelching slick of your cunt--and you could almost feel the confused glances being exchanged between JJ and Pope. Then, a loud groan reverberated through the door.

"You mean to tell me you brought a groupie on board? We have another show in a few hours, Rafe! This isn't the time for your extracurricular activities." Pope, their bassist, voice carried a hint of frustration and concern.

"Oh, shut up, Hayward. It's not what you and Maybank think," Rafe retorted, his hand still gripping possessively on your hip, his cock slotting in and out your sopping wet cunt. "Open the damn door and see for yourself!"

"It's locked you asshole!" You heard Pope quip, causing Rafe to laugh like the little shit he was.

"Oh yeah, guess you'll have to wait then!" Rafe shouted.

You wondered if they could hear you--the little whimpers that laced your lips at every rock of Rafe's hips--as you had heard them but actively decided to ignore them. 

"Rafe hurry up." you whined, tilting your head back to rest on Rafe's shoulder. "They're waiting."

"You think I give a shit about them waiting?" he asked you, his rocking movement stilling for a moment, and because you didn't want the pleasure to end, you quickly shook your head 'no.' 

Rafe had you bent over the tour bus dining table, your leg hitched upon the carbon steel, as he gave it to you from the back, repeatedly.

Your leather skirt and bra were bunched at your waist, and your shirt was on the ground somewhere. Rafe's impatience had torn the fishnets you had on earlier to shreds. 

You felt Rafe's hands grip your hips tighter, pulling you back onto him with each thrust. The table dug into your stomach, a contrast to the pleasure that pulsed through you.

The tour bus's windows had been tinted, but you could feel the eyes of the other band members on you, cupping their hands to the glass, but you didn't care. 

This was always how it was after a show for Rafe—the rush of performing, the need to let go, and the freedom of the open road, and the girls, girls, girls!

Rafe had realized he'd been a lucky man because every night after his band had done a set, there would be a queue of girls waiting to do whatever he said. 

He'd fucked girls in the East and the Midwest, and the South that had pretty decent pussy, but the girls in the West pussies never seemed to fail Rafe--like yours per se. 

Rafe breath was hot against your ear, his desire matching your own; Rafe almost wanted to kiss you. 

You pulsed around his cock at the sensation.

Fuck, did Rafe love your pussy, he really did.

"You'resofuckingwarm." Rafe words jumbled. 

Your cunt was the type of warmth you'd feel after being outside in the cold all day or, as Rafe imagined, the type of warmth you get from hugging a dead loved one, per se, like his mother. 

A moan escaped your lips as Rafe's tip hit a particularly sensitive spot, and you knew you were close.

The bus bounced slightly with each of Rafe's eager movements, a rhythm that matched the pounding in your chest.

The sight of your heart-shaped ass backing into Rafe's pelvis--equally as eager as him to reach your peak--almost made Rafe say, "fuck it." and let you make an honest man out of him. 

You wanted to prolong this moment, but the pleasure was too much.

"I'm close," you panted, your voice hoarse with need.

Rafe's response was a low growl, his hips snapping faster, driving you further towards the edge.

Rafe's hands then switched from gripping your hips to both his hands, palming your plush breast and forcefully pushing you back on his cock, causing the table to creak beneath your weight, the sound adding to the erotic symphony of the moment. 

And then, with one final, deep thrust, you cried out, your body shaking as pleasure washed over you.

"Ah, fuck." you panted. "Fuck." your head was spinning. It felt like someone had just put your brain in a blender, and pressed start--metaphorically speaking.

Rafe followed a hoarse groan tearing from his throat as he found his release, his cock twitching inside for every stride of his cum.

For a moment, you both stayed still, catching your breath. Then, with a soft laugh, Rafe pulled out and turned you to face him.

And you were pretty too?! Rafe had thought to himself, because this was the first time he ever really saw your face that wasn't in the dark bar light.

Rafe was glad that he hadn't been drunk or high in the moment, because he could see himself now getting down on one knee and popping the big question.

Rafe had watched you get yourself back together, he handed you you're discarded shirt on the floor, and then asked:

"Can I see you again?"

You took the shirt from Rafe, feeling a mix of emotions. On the one hand, you were flattered by his apparent attraction; on the other, you knew your personalities were likely incompatible. "I'm not much of a groupie," you replied with a small smile. 

Rafe couldn't help but burst out laughing at your response. "Well, I guess I'll just have to settle for this one unforgettable fuck then," he joked.

"Rafe it's just that--" you paused. "I know your type. You're the type to hit it and quit it, right? Leave girls once you get sick of them?"

"Funny, I didn't take you as a tabloid junkie. You shouldn't believe everything the magazines say, y'know?" Rafe said with that boyish charm of him--the same charm that landed you getting fucked in the back of his tour bus.

You laughed, a rich, full sound that surprised you both. "Fair enough," you conceded, slipping your shirt back on.

"But I'm serious, Rafe. I'm not looking for a fling, and I don't want to be another notch on your bedpost." You paused, considering your next words carefully. "I like you, and this was… incredible. But I'm not sure we're meant for anything more."

Rafe's face softened, and he took your hand in his. "Hey, I get it. I've got a reputation, and it's not exactly a good one." He squeezed your hand gently. "But maybe, just maybe, we could try something different? Something real?" His eyes searched yours, and you could see the sincerity in them.

You bit your lip, torn between your better judgment and the pull you felt towards this enigmatic man.

"Sorry, cowboy. My 'no playboys' policy is firm," you playfully jested, causing Rafe to flash a grin.

"Oh, really?" he responded, drawing you closer. "I suppose I'll have to sway your opinion then."

"I suppose you will."

And with that, time would tell if he could win you over or not.

[d-emeter]

babee i just have to let this out: i was watching one of those yt tarot video of your soulmate to cheer my non-existent love life after receiving 3 wedding invitations and i got "different background/lives abroad, built/fit structure, gives importance to his hair, nice eyes, a bit tanned skin from working outside" guy and the image of john freaking mactavish's blue eyes, in his compression t-shirt under las almas sun with his stupid mohawk is all i can think about asld;kasl;fk (im east asian so that checks out the different bg/lives abroad aspect lol). do whatever you want with this information 🤣 love your writing!!

oh he might just be your soulmate idk what to tell you. this also gave me some soap with an international partner brainworms enjoy

Soap with an international partner — reader x Johnny 'Soap' Mactavish

Now I will not pretend otherwise, the first thing this man will do when he finds out you're from another country is ask you to teach him cursewords in your language (or in your accent/slang if you're from another english speaking country). This immediately devolves into dirty words once you start dating.

If you're facetiming your family abroad, best believe this man is in frame too, talking with your mother like he's known her for years. If they ever come to visit or you visit them, he also very quickly becomes the favourite 'uncle' to any kids in the family. No getting rid of him now, bonnie.

If you ever get homesick, he's pulling out all the stops to make you feel better. I'm talking cooking your favourite dishes, decorating your apartment with your national flag, playing music from your country. When it gets really bad, he already has the plane tickets purchased.

When visiting your home country, he insists on taking those garish tourist photos in cheap knock-offs of your country's traditional clothing. Will also make you do this when you visit Scotland, then hangs the photos next to eachother on the fridge.

His notebook is filled with little words you've taught him, usually along with a tiny sketch of said object or concept (he's a visual learner).

He'll never show you before he's sure he has you locked down, but he started googling and making a list of baby names in your language after the first date.

And finally, a few years down the line, he'll end his vows by telling you "I love you" in your language.

[elliewluvr]

sells 2 | ellie williams

pairing: drugdealer!ellie x f!reader

read part 1 to this series !

summary: ellie’s a popular known drug dealer who you just so happened to have a few sexual encounters with but what happens when you need to face her again?

content warnings: 18+ SMUT MDNI, drug use, flirtatious behavior, fingering, degradation and praise, reader receiving, a ton of kisses, rough sex, bondage, strapon sex

dont purchase tlou2! support palestine 🇵🇸

<3

a few months went past, you and ellie hardly talking unless it was in class, sometimes passing eachother with a few hi’s and bye’s once class was finished. upon the sexual encounter you two had at that party, you couldnt find yourself being willing to be alone with her .

maybe you were pussy.. maybe you didnt want things to be awkward.. whatever the case was, you didnt engage nor bring up the situation that happened that night.

until you realized you were low on weed, the same weed you begged your roommate to buy from ellie so you wouldn’t have to see her by yourself.

the exchange went on for a couple of months, buying a great amount of weed from the auburn haired girl so you didnt have to ask your roommate to pick it up as often.

it wasnt until she told you last time that she could no longer do such things. you figured she gotten tired of it and understood considering it wasnt her responsibility.

after about 45 minutes of contemplation and mental preparation, you swiftly grabbed your phone, opened you and ellies convo.

you: hey, think you could sell 2 me tn?

in an attempt to distract yourself from the somehow embarrassing action you’d just committed you went into your kitchen, opened up the pantry and found the biggest bag of chips you find. you settled down on the couch, where you found the remote to watch some netflix to pass time.

hours had passed, and while you quietly giggled at your favorite show, rewatching it for the unth-teenth time, you kinda started to wonder why you were in this predicament to begin with.

and just as you remembered, the screen of your phone lit, dimly lighting the mostly dark room, since it was about dusk by now.

ellie: yea im not mobile rn but yk i can do a quick smthn 4 ya.

you froze reading the small black letters across your screen. quickly pausing your show, you picked up your phone, opening it up to the conversation where you re read the text. “do a quick something..like what? jesus fuck.” you scoffed quickly typing back a response.

you: uh what quick something did u have in mind?

a few seconds had gone by and your phone lit up again:

ellie: you think u can come to mine? shouldn’t be too far from your dorm

oh okay great so now you had to come to her. reluctantly, you agree. she sends her address and with a sigh, you slide on your shoes, grab your wallet and head out. it’s about a 10-15 minute walk to ellie’s place depending on how fast you walked. she lived on the edge of east campus and luckily you were right on the south campus so it was a some what decent commute.

when you arrive to apartment 210 with a quick knock to the door, your heart is beating out of your chest. not from walking so fucking far but from the anxiety that would entail you seeing her alone. in a drug dealers house. i don’t know why but the entire ordeal just seemed foreign to you.

maybe it was pussy of you to avoid her for months but who could blame you, the way she touched, kissed, and groped your soft skin that night sends shivers down your spine just from the thought. never in your life were you able to come undone so easily.

it was strange how good she had a lock on you and your mind, times where youd wanna text her a quick ‘come over’ just so she can recreate the scene from that bathroom at that god awful party. suddenly, the door cracked open.

immediately met by her low green orbs tinted a light pink from the joint she had rolled in the living room. she was in nothing but a white tank and gray sweats that hung dangerous low. you caught a quick glimpse before she interrupted with a, “wanna come in?” opening the door wider to let you in.

“oh yeah, of course.” you muttered walking into the apartment. the smell definitely hit you in the face once you were a good 5 feet into the apartment. ellie noticed your face when you caught a whiff.

“fuck, sorry. i just rolled so it kinda stinks a lil.” she apologized, grabbing stray laundry and random pieces of rolling paper as she walked through the hall leading to the living room. ellie swore she had tidied up a bit more. “please, you’re all good.” you smiled, reassuring her as you entered the living room, locating the sofa and finding a seat there.

“so what were you lookin’ to buy?” ellie asked, continuing to nervously clean the room littered in little baggies and black joggers. you pulled out your wallet, skimming through your cash and counting it all. “uh, how much can i get with sixty three dollars and forty nine cents?” you grinned, nervously giggling, cash in hand. ellie smirked, tilting her head to the side, “maybe 3 grams? but for you i can make it a little more.” she teased.

always with these “but for you’s”, jesus.

“what do you mean, ‘but for you’ ?”, you asked, doe eyed and curious like a puppy. ellie sorta tensed for a sec, but quickly played it off. “you’re just cool, i dunno. also you helped me with studying so, fuck it why not? i mean if you wanna pay full price no objections here, heh.”

you forgot all about the studying session you had with her, ultimately ending with her fingers back in your cunt, massaging your spot over and over again until you were sobbing and knocking the test books onto your pink rug in your dorm.

giddy and chattering like a highschool girl, ellie was talking for what seemed like days before she quickly smiled and stopped in place to tell you “i’m gonna go in the back and uh- grab the shit. stay here.” she scurried off. “nah ima go back home” you muttered under your breath and rolling your eyes, a small smile forming as you opened your phone, looking for something to scroll through. twitter seemed to be your saving grace that day, slowly scrolling through cute pictures and occasionally dumb memes posted by those god awful accounts you followed back when you were 14.

ellie stepped back in, baggie in hand and you anxiously started counting your money again just to make sure you had exactly sixty three dollars and forty nine cents. “and how much was it again?” you asked, bills in hand, ready to do your drug deal like big girl. “erm just thirty five.” she quickly said, trying to draw focus away from the obvious price reduction.

“thirty five? for allat?” you questioned, thinking maybe she grabbed one bag too many. “yeah it’s good, babe don’t sweat it.” she brushed it off, sitting on the sofa next to you. you took your cash counting up three ten dollars bills and a five. handing it to her, you felt her rough palms brush against your comparably soft ones and you swore you memorized every detail on her hand. the little scar right below her thumb, her knuckles bruised a bright pink and the start of her tattoo which travelled up her forearm.

after ellie handed you your baggies, she commented;

“we kinda match.”, she smirked, looking down. you were confused, what was matching? at first you tried comparing the color pallets of each others outfits, but you were wearing green and black which didn’t seem like a match to her grey and white. after you sat in 5 long seconds confusion, she clarified, “your tattoo?”, she gestured down again noticing the butterfly tattooed on the forearm holding the weed.

“oh- yeah um. i noticed yours, it’s really pretty but isn’t that a moth? mines is a butterfly.” you quipped holding up your arm to hers for a full side by side comparison. “i mean yeah, but- erm, it’s like a sun and moon kinda thing. you know like yin and yang i guess?” she terribly explained but you caught on. “what so i’m the sun?” you asked, a finger lightly grazing over her arm, tracing the details. “suppose so.” ellie responded, doing the same to your arm in turn, her finger now connecting the dots of your tattoo as well.

“and you’re the moon?” you asked again

“nah dina is.”

“very funny.” you smirked.

“yeah well i try.”

you had no idea you were even this close to her until your ridiculous lesbian banter had ceased. noses inches away from each other, hands on fore arms and eyes locked, like if you stopped looking at her you’d die instantly. after a comfortable silence you started, “hey i uh, actually can’t roll. do you think you can help? or atleast just show me so i know how.” you giggled, shaking your head at the embarrassing question. “awh, poor thing. yeah sure, i’ll teach you pretty girl.” she smiled grabbing a baggie, opening it and pouring its contents onto the tray that sat on the coffee table in front of her.

you were lying, you knew how to roll but just wanted to find a reason to stay there a bit longer. a reason to end up back in her arms. a reason to have her lips back on yours. i dont know, fuck. you just wanted to be back with her.

“alright first off, you wanna grind your shit, obviously.” she started, knocking you out your thoughts once again. she carefully went through each step, making sure you were paying attention throughout. “eyes on me, pretty.” is all she would say whenever she caught you wandering off, fantasizing about how her hands would feel wrapped around your waist, keeping you still while she-

fuck.

“im paying attention, i promise.” you smiled again, focusing on the blunt she was beginning to roll. and god when she did it, it was fucking perfect. watching the muscles in her hands contort to her will, something about it made heat begin to pool at the bottom of your stomach. when ellie was finished, the blunt sat perfect between her two fingers offering it to you.

“this is really stupid question but do you wanna..smoke it with me?” you asked, eyes locked onto her again. “fuck, you mustve missed me or something, pretty.” ellie remarked, eyes still low from the joint she had before. “should you ever be so lucky” you responded, before asking, “you got a lighter or..?”

—

half a blunt later, your shoes off and your eyes are dangerously low, tinted a hot pink from the fat blunt ellie had graciously rolled for you. you and her sat on the sofa, watching girl, interrupted, one of ellie’s favs. you were carefully finding moments to glance over at her sitting next to you, her arm behind you resting on the sofa. yours thighs are touching but that’s about the most contact you’ve gotten all night.

a little relaxed thanks to the weed, you laid your head onto ellie’s lap. thank fuck you were high because no way you’d even try this shit sober. ellie peered down at you before saying a gentle, “you okay?” you hummed in response and that was enough for ellie.

sitting in the silence doing nothing but watching this movie made you so surprisingly comfortable. like you didn’t need to constantly talk to ellie. simply being in her presence was enough. something about her that just instantly calmed you. god you had such a crush it was pathetic.

instinctively, ellie rests her hand on the small of your waist, before rubbing it gently, being careful with her movements as she knew you were faded, “is this okay?” she asked, looking down at you who were comfortable resting in her lap.

“it’s okay.”

“it’s okay?”

“it’s okay”.

ellie carefully rubbed the area where it previously rested, giving your waist a little squeeze before gently rubbing it back and forth. god she could lull you to sleep if she really wanted to. placing your hand on top of hers, you methodically intertwine your fingers into her own, holding her hand while it rests on your waist.

“y’know my first dates usually don’t go this good so this is a nice change.” the green eyed girl softly muttered, eyes glued to the tv. “this is a date?” you peered, heart skipping a beat. “you’re in my house, lying on my lap, watching a gay fuckin movie with me on my couch. and we smoked. yeah, babe, this is a date.” she quipped smiling softly before peeking down at you, stealing tiny glances herself, constantly staring as if she’d forget what your face looked like if she couldn’t get a good look every 5 minutes or so.

you hummed in response, lightly tracing her strong knuckles with your thumb, “okay, maybe this is a date.” you giggled, rolling on your back to get the perfect view of her from below. her jaw, clenched tight while she chews on her pouted pink lips. you noticed every freckle on her face, every tiny scar; even the one right on her eyebrow that caused a little slit. you marveled at the girl, fascinated with her.

“like something you see?” ellie’s smirked, low green eyes now locked on your deep brown ones. hesitant, you respond, “possibly.” and smiled, head tilting while you flirted with ellie for probably the sixteenth time that night. “how uh, possible would you say it is?” she quipped. “like percentage wise?,i’d say like a good 73% chance.” you told her, finding her hand again to gently grab it.

“what’s goin’ on w’you n my hands?” she asked, smirking at the sight of you fidgeting with with her bruised, slender hands. “considering they were in me. i like em, they look nice.” you felt your face start to warm up from the sudden word vomit you let slip out due being too high to care. ellie perched an eyebrow, her grin growing revealing her pearly whites.

“you know where they’d look even nicer?” ellie question, now running her free hand through your hair. “mm?” you asked with a hum?

ellie softly released her hand from your grip, carefully moving it up to your face to caress your warm cheek, gliding her thumb in small, soothing little circles. she hunched down to get her face closer to yours and when she was close enough she answered;

“back deep inside you”. her hands moved to hold both of your cheeks with just one hand. you laid there in shock, pussy clenched thinking of how deep ellie’s slender appendages would fuck into your wet core until you were nothing but flesh and bone. you felt your whole body warm up, before you said, “i know they would.” you softly said, lifting your head up to get even closer. before the two of you knew it your noses were inches apart from each other again, eyes locked.

and you knew the second that ellie pressed her soft lips into yours, you were fucked.

her lips were so soft against yours, her dominance genuinely taking over once she leaned forward to initiate the kiss. god her lips felt so good, making you bring a arm up to wrap it around her neck, fingers grazing her scalp a bit as you dug fingers into her hair that fell right above her shoulder blades.

your eyes were shut tightly, mind a bit foggy from how her hands quickly went up from your waist to grab ahold of one of your tits. her calloused palms gripping the flesh before pulling away. you let out a soft whine in response, not wanting the kiss to be over. “take these off.” she demanded, referring to your green joggers that you slipped on upon hearing that she was gonna sell to you.

quickly sitting up, tugging the spandex material off of your legs while ellie on the over hand watched. her eyes trailing from your soft thighs to the black panties you had on. you always made sure to wear a matching set no matter the circumstances. she noticed this, taking a liking to how you always wanted to keep yourself put together. her hands readjusted you so you were now on her lap with your back to her, her slim but the long fingers grabbing ahold of the hem of your panties to slip them down your legs before tossing them aside and pushing your thighs back towards her.

“keep these legs open for me, babe. dont let me have to tell you twice.” her raspy but smooth voice let out into your ear, making you nod and whine a bit upon her sudden demands. you never seen ellie so demanding before, the controlling and dominance she was asserting made you shiver ontop of her. whats gonna into this girl?

she placed a hand between your thighs, palming your pussy for a little while before rubbing her middle and ring fingers through your pussy lips, your breathing hitching as you whimpered softly in her touch. this made her lips curl in a smirk, laying a long peck in the crevice of your neck.

you couldn’t help yourself, holding your legs open for her while furrowing your eyebrows once she began rubbing your clit in moderate paced circles, being sure to wrap her arm around your waist from behind to keep you pinned to her. the feeling of the pads of her fingertips rubbing your sensitive clit made your legs tremble, soft moans leaving your lips ever so easily. you felt your hips buck up towards her fingers, wanting as much attention between your thighs than before.

she caught onto this, biting her bottom lip as she watched before landing a slap onto your pussy, “dont get greedy, let me build you up to that first.” she said, making you squeal upon feeling of the gentle spank on your cunt, your back arching in response.

a couple of seconds passed, your moans growing louder once her fingers slipped in a bit effortlessly. “look at that babe, your pussy is molded in the shape of my fingers.. they fit so perfectly in you.” you moaned in response, mouth slightly agape while you felt her almost immediately push her fingertips up against your spot, “els!” you moaned out, gasping once she sped up her fingers.

you and her both watched in awe, your thighs trembling and twitching each time her fingers hit that spot that had you squeezing your eyes shut while being tempted to close your legs. she smirked once again, pushing her digits deep into you before flicking her fingers back and forth in a ‘come here’ motion.

“yeah? does it feel good? talk to me, pretty.” she said, making your mouth fall open and head fall back onto her shoulder, “yes! dont stop.. ‘feels so good ellie!” you moaned out, eyes shutting as your core began to tense. ellie hummed in response to you, knowing how good she had you feeling considering your pussy was clamped down onto her the second she let her fingers ease into you.

“kiss me.” she said a bit above a whisper, your head turning in her direction to immediately be met with those green irises on you. she stuck her tongue out to slip it into your mouth, a eager but ultimately sloppy kiss igniting between you two as she continued her movements with her fingers. her curled fingers hitting your spot over and over again until you pulled away from the kiss.

“im gonna-“ you couldn’t even finish your sentence without a long moan dragging from your throat and to ellies ears, making her smirk, nod, and use her free hand that was around your waist to rub your clit quickly. “let it out, dont hold back for me.. let me hear you scream babe..”

you gripped onto your thighs tightly, freshly manicured nails digging into your plush skin as you let incoherent words drag from your lips while you came undone on her fingers for the third time now. you trembled, feeling her take her soaked fingers out to raise them to your lips. “suck.” she demanded. you wrapped your lips around her digits, looking into her eyes at the same time as you sucked your juices clean off her fingers, making her furrow her eyebrows and bite her lip at the sight. “fuck..” she mumbled to herself, pulling them out to kiss you once again. the taste of you still lingering on your tongue.

ellie pulled away for a moment, making sure you were okay upon sitting you back onto the couch. you were still a bit shaken up from the oh so good orgasm you just had, shakily reaching for your panties as ellie stood from the couch, “oh, you wont be needin’ those.” she said, making you raise a eyebrow a bit confused, “ what do you mean?” you asked confusedly before watching her crouch down in front of you to pick you up off the couch.

her muscles making it easy to just scoop you up and off of the cushioned seat, you squealed a little, wrapping your arms around her neck in response, “i got you.” she said, chuckling a bit at your reaction before pushing her lips back against yours.

the two of you made your way out the cloudy living room and towards the hallway that led to her bedroom, ellie occasionally tripping over a few items she had forgotten to pick up due to the rushed invitation into her home, using a free hand to grab the wall to keep the both of you steady. she smirked against your lips once she reached her room, tossing you onto the mattress before pulling her white tank top over her head.

you watched, deciding to do the same to your black crop top and bra, now completely naked for her eyes to travel your body for a few seconds. this sight making her practically wanna take a picture and put it as her lock screen. “so fuckin’ pretty, just a second.” she said, dominant hand softly rubbing your inner thigh before turning around to grab her stool near her closet, stepping on it to reach up and grab one of the plenty shoe boxes she had on the shelves.

you laid there patiently, still oblivious as to what she was searching for but not for long once she pulled out something that resembled a harness and another object that you just couldn’t quite see due to her back being turned. ellie on the other hand placed both of the items in one of palms, finally turning to face you to reveal what she had.

a strap. a fucking strap.

“think you could take this?” she asked, walking back towards you before sliding her joggers and underwear down her legs. you nodded, “mhm..” you managed to let out, eyes trailing down her body to her pussy and muscular thighs that still remained slim but was there for you to see.

god, how perfect her body looked.. her muscles and abs flexing as she attached the dildo to her harness, the auburn haired girl looking up from the activity to meet your eyes that was practically glued to her. “like what you see?” she asked for the second time tonight.

“absolutely.” you said sassily, rolling your eyes before letting a laugh pass between your mouth as you were laid back on your elbows, looking up at her, “i bet.” she said with an smug expression over her face, clipping the last buckle of her strap onto her waist. she climbed up onto the bed alongside you, grabbing your ankles to flip you over on your stomach. you let out a breath once your face hit the pillows. ellie adjusted herself, getting comfortable between your thighs.

“you look so fuckin’ good from this angle, babe.” you heard her let out, making you whine in response while your pussy immediately clamped on nothing upon the feeling of her rubbing the tip of her strap between your wet slit. “do you want it? let me hear how you want it baby.” she said, smirking as soon as she heard you start to beg.

“please, i want it so bad el’s.. need you in me..” you whined, pushing your hips back towards her a few times before feeling her land a rough slap on your ass, making you gasp and squeal from how your right ass cheek stung. “say it again, pretty girl.”

“please fuck me.. please ellie, i want you so bad.” you said, looking back at her with furrowed eyebrows and low eyes from being both still high and now horny. she hummed at your words before pushing the silicone into you, gasping from being stretched open. you gripped onto one of the pillows, immediately attempting to push yourself forward once you felt it hit your cervix.

“dont fuckin’ move..” she said, grabbing your hips to now stroke into you, her waist hitting your ass repeatedly as she pretty much rolled her strap deep in your cunt. you let moans pass between your lips while you sat up onto your forearms, ellie grabbing your hair in her fist as she started to speed up.

your head was yanked back, jaw slack, and body trembling once you felt the silicone graze your spot, eyes rolling back from the way she fucked you. she wasted no time to make you putty in her hands. “good girl.” her raspy voice spoke, earning a moan from you.

you gasped loudly upon feeling her start to hit that spot head on. your fists gripped the sheets, trying to once again push your body forward to get it to stop, your ego couldn’t allow yourself to cum so quickly.

“what did i say, hm? thought you said you could take it? what happened?” she asked, placing her free hand on the small of your back while biting her lip to keep her from moaning herself once she could feel how tightly you were clamped down on her.

ellie was thrown out of her complete bliss, noticing the headboard that was slamming against wall roughly due to you trying to get away. “nope.” she simply said, pulling out of you roughly to get back off of the bed.

“and dont you fuckin’ move, i got something thatll stop all that moving.”

you fell down onto the pillows in front of you. your body was shaking and you were trying to catch your breath, just based off of the fact that you pissed her off, you refused to move even the slightest. ellie was frustrated, knowing that she had neighbors and couldn’t have you flailing all around her bed, she stepped back up onto the stool to grab something else from the box.

you glanced back to get a view on what she was getting, only to see something that looked similar to red ribbon but due to her starting to turn around, you readjusted your gaze rather quickly. ellie got back on the bed, landing a harsh slap on your ass, “arch. what the fuck are you doing?” she said, face scrunched in irritation.

you obeyed her, whining once you felt your other cheek begin to tingle from the blunt force, this time it being more forceful than the one that she previously gave you. this made you a bit nervous considering that you could tell she was no longer the sweet quiet drug dealer you sat next to in class.

you felt the auburn haired girl pull your hands back with one hand, using her more dominant hand to tightly wrap the red ribbon around your wrists, making you whimper a bit, “i asked you if you could take it, didnt i?” she asked, being sure to tie the ribbon tightly like a boy scout just incase you even ATTEMPTED to break free from it.

“yes.. its just that it felt so goo-“ you started, getting cut off by her tying a bow after making the bond tight. the way she tied it quickly had you wondering if this wasnt her first time. who else was she fucking as to where she knew exactly how to tie bondage so quickly and easily on you. you were cut from your thoughts by her slipping back into you.

ellie took in the sight, biting her bottom lip before placing both of her hands into your deep arch to start her strokes back up. her hips curved each time she pulled the strap from out of you. your whimpers and moans filling the room as your face remained in the pillow, eyes rolling back in awe.

“fuck! e-ellie.. mmph!” you let pass from your throat and into the pillow, eyes rolling back from the feeling of her hitting your spot repeatedly making you try to reach for her waist. “oh yeah? take my fucking dick. take it, babe.” ellie let out before raising a leg up, foot flat on the mattress while she pinned you down into her dark grey sheets.

“you thought i didnt know what you were doing? you know how to roll, you just wanted me back deep in your cunt again. isnt that right?” she asked, thrusting her hips into you deeply while watching your ass ripple each time it hit her waist. you couldnt even form a sentence, drool slipping from your mouth as you grabbed at nothing.

your moans getting more breathy and short. ellie sat her leg back down before letting go of your waist to wrap a hand around your throat, pulling you up to her chest. her strokes were still deep and quick, making you whimper, “answer me, babe.” she said, making you incoherently say, “yes!”

she smirked, stroking her silicone dick into your spot while not even taking the time to let you breathe, the sounds of your moans, wetness, and skin slapping filled the room along with the occasional noise of the headboard hitting the wall. your eyes rolled back once again, her tatted hand reaching down to rub your clit before gently squeezing your throat and slamming her hips into you.

you gasped as your body began to spasm, eyebrows furrowing, and core tightening all at once. ellie caught onto this, a snarky look written across her face, “youre gonna cum pretty? youre gonna fuckin’ cum for me, hm?” she asked you, laying a few pecks onto your cheek. you whined, the whine fading into a moan, “yes.. im gonna cum! ‘gonna cum!” you cried out.

ellie’s strokes picked up significantly faster. “give it to me, give it to me babe.. cum on this dick.” she whispered in your ear, applying pressure onto your clit before rolling her hips into your spot. your back arched deeper than before, moans growing long and louder as your chest rose and fell, eyes rolling, and pussy clenching and unclenching over the silicone inside of you.

she took her time, slowing down her pace to rub your clit through your orgasm. “good girl.. let it all out.” she said, wrapping her arms around your waist to hold you close to her as you came down from your high. your body was weak, falling slumped in her strong arms that gently massaged you.

you felt yourself relax in her touch, looking back at the red haired girl before feeling her lay a few pecks onto your lips. “you did so good for me..” she whispered softly against your lips in between pecks.

your breathing was still uneasy, ellie slowly laying you down onto the bed and in return having the dildo slip out of your messy cunt, untying your hands to lay soft kisses over you now red wrists. a ring of your creamy orgasm at the base of her strap, making her stand to grab a towel, wiping it off before tending to you.

your eyes was heavy, blinking getting slow before you began to doze off. the auburn haired girl wiping you clean before unsnapping the harness off and crawling back into bed with you. her hands shifting you gently to lay overtop of her, pulling the cover over you twos naked frames.

“goodnight babe, sleep well, pretty.” she mumbled softly, being sure to not to wake you in the mist. she laid a gentle peck on your forehead before shifting to turn off her bedside lamp, wrapping her arms around you and slowly falling asleep with you.

—<3 hope you enjoyed reading part 2 to sells! more to come soon!

part 3!!

direct link to my master list!

[tiramisuucakeee]

HOTLINE BLING ★

( reader x yang jungwon )

IN WHICH: on a boring day, jungwon decides to call an unknown number, wanting to prank them. but it backfires.

read more !

‘ hello? ’

‘ hi, is this the young maternity center? ’

‘ no it’s me. keeho stop fucking bothering me ’

‘ who’s keeho? ’

‘ oh ’

‘ hello?! amir, i need you to deliver food immediately, i’m in the ice age. if you get here in under ten minutes, i will give you two dollars tip ’

‘ okay, whoever you are, stop this prank calling, i’m literally not in the mood for this ’

‘ do you not want your tip? ’

‘ goodbye ’

‘ hello bro, i’m travis scott-y, i need 200 dollars to get back to america ’

‘ oh really? how do i know you’re travis scott? ’

‘ fein fein fein fein fein ’

‘ shut up, stop calling me already, oh my god ’

‘ but you literally asked me to — ’

‘ hold on, listen! please don’t hang up on me! ’

‘ what do you want? ’

‘ to say hi, i’m jungwon, what’s your name? ’

‘ nunya ’

‘ nunya…? ’

‘ none of your business ’

‘ it’s four in the morning, what could you possibly want jungwon? ’

‘ …. ’

‘ hello? ’

‘ you remembered my name! — ’

‘ hey, i’m on my way to the east building on campus, giselle, are you sure macro is on class 2-B? ’

‘ now look who’s the one calling me ’

‘ oh, sorry, i got you mixed up with a friend from uni, didn’t realize ’

’ it’s okay, it happens… so, you’re an econ student? ’

‘ yeah, first year ’

‘ cool, cool. me too. well, not econ. i’m in art school. you know, i never got your name… ’

‘ yeah, because you don’t know who i am ’

‘ well, what’s your name? ’

‘ y/n ’

‘ now i know who you are ’

‘ takes more than that ’

‘ so. y/nnie, first year econ student, i have a preposition for you, one that you can’t deny ’

‘ don’t call me that… ’

‘ let me tell you something first ’

‘ what’s that? ’

‘ want to go out for coffee? ’

‘ …. ’

‘ hellooo ’

‘ are you dumb? you’re literally asking a stranger to meet you, what if i’m a criminal or something? you have absolutely no survival instincts ’

‘ so… do you wanna go? ’

‘ you’re paying? ’

‘ of course, i’ll make up for all the prank calls ’

‘ i don’t think anything will make up for that, but okay, maybe just a small part of it ’

‘ great. meet me at your uni’s entrance at 6 ’

‘ how would you know what uni i go to — ’

‘ i have my ways. maybe just a feeling ’

‘ you’re genuinely weird ’

‘ see you later y/nnie ’

‘ you’re impossible ’

‘ did you get back to your dorm safely? ’

‘ yeah, thanks for driving me back to the complex ’

‘ it’s nothing. thank you for accepting to meet up, i didn’t think you’d show up '

‘ why? ’

‘ survival instincts? ’

‘ right, well my survival instincts want me to go to sleep since i have classes all day tomorrow ’

‘ oh yeah, yeah, don’t let me keep you here ’

‘ wasn’t planning on it ’

‘ goodnight y/nnie ’

‘ goodnight… won ’

‘ hey, want to go out today? it’s been years ’

‘ you saw me last week, and we call every day ’

‘ so? ’

‘ alright, you’re coming shopping with me, i need some things for a project. all your calling made me start on it later than the rest, this is your fault ’

‘ eughh, i don’t wanna go do that ’

‘ fine, we can do whatever you want after ’

‘ that’s more like it, i’ll go ’

‘ okay ’

‘ so it’s a date? ’

‘ what? ’

‘ nothing — ’

‘no, i heard you. are you serious? ’

‘ uhhhhhhh, yes? maybe? i don’t know? ’

‘ good, so it’s a date ’

‘ wait, really?! ’

‘ unless you don’t want it to be ’

‘ no! i mean — yes! yes yes yes, okay, i’ll pick you up from your dorm, text me when you’re almost ready, i’m going to go get you flowers ’

‘ okay… see you, won — jungwon ’

‘ don’t act like that now, i can hear you smiling and grinning like crazy and kicking your feet ’

‘ no. you cannot ’

‘ uhuh, see ya ’

EXTRA:

masterlist.