#it hasn’t um worked so far but

[radios-universe]

be honest. if you saw my laptop would u come talk to me or would u just think i was a Loser

[pervertwhore]

LEON'S GUILTY PLEASURE

SIREN IS TYPING . . writing debut! :33 this is my first ever leon fic, so please be nice! 3: i accidentally went a bit too far and made the word count 9.4k words..um..enjoy! reblogs and replies are really helpful & help me stay motivated so if you have any kind words to share, please do! i would love to hear them! i’m sorry for the really long delay in posting this but UHHH!!! idk ;(( my bae 3k helped me with the plot for the call & i hope i tagged everyone ^_^ i did my best to proofread so hopefully it’s good!

CONTAINS: older man leon! x pornstar! reader — age gaps, alcoholism, mutual masturbation, leon is co-depended with your content, he adores you, hinted erectile dysfunction, leon is lonely and sad, reader is there to put on a show for him, video call sex, dildo use, etc!

SYNOPSIS: a lonely man copes with two things, alcohol and porn, one night he comes across a video that catches his eye, pushing him down a spiral of coping through you. he adores you and your work, his only want in life is to get closer to you, and when you make a contest and offer the winner a chance at a one on one call with you, leon jumps at the opportunity.

slumping down onto his bed, a drunk leon kennedy, sat back.

a small groan left his lips as nausea swirled around inside his stomach, he didn’t have food in his system, and his stomach was full of whiskey.

aerial shoot, his favorite.

but, fuck. he overdid it, throughout the whole evening he had been nursing a new bottle of the bitter whiskey, drinking it down like it was water, not caring about the way it burned his throat. by now it was empty, the drug seeping into his system like a blanket, making his body feel hot.

slipping down onto his bed, leon stared blankly at the roof, the room was dark and quiet.

he wasn’t tired, he was drunk, but not tired. another groan came from him, his large calloused hand moving to his face. he rubbed his forehead, trying to ease the throbbing sensation in his head. he had always been tolerant of alcohol, but tonight his body couldn’t take it anymore. he thanked a higher being for not being insanely nauseous, he wasn’t in the mood to spew up the alcohol.

he let out a deep breath before he reached out and grabbed his phone.

hitting the power button, his eyes shut immediately as the blinding light of his phone hit his eyes. “jesus, fuck—“ he grunted, quickly turning down the brightness.

looking at the screen, he wasn’t surprised when he was met with an empty inbox. no texts, no calls, no emails.

a sigh left his lips, the reminder of his loneliness brought a heavy weight inside his chest. looking to his side, there was an empty spot next to him, the bed was cold.

he was lonely.

despite what he tried to tell himself, he craves romance, he craves stability. the idea of living a happy married life was something he dreamed about when he was younger, before 1998, before he became what he is now. now he scoffs at romance because deep down, he knows no one would want to be with an alcoholic old man. his prime is gone a distant memory. he feels like a shell of himself, he doesn’t have much to live for now.

the cycle of self-hatred and self-loathing was part of his daily routine, at night, he gets lost in his thoughts.

he can’t go a day sober, it would kill him. at least that’s what he thinks.

the memories of the people he had lost haunt him, no matter how much time passes, the vacant space he has in his heart doesn’t go away. no matter what he does to try and get rid of it.

the dating scene wasn’t for him, not anymore, not at this age.

he could go and pay for hookers and prostitutes to fulfill his sexual needs, but it was never enough. the pleasure was temporary.

he wasn’t happy.

leon hasn’t been happy in a long time, so long in fact, he doesn’t remember how it feels.

his gaze focused on his phone, he wanted to stop thinking. he needed to forget everything, his grief, his anger, his loneliness. that’s why he relied on alcohol, but tonight he didn’t want to drink himself to sleep.

so, that left him with one more option.

opening the internet on his phone, his dull eyes focused as his fingers typed.

pornhub.com

this was pathetic, leon thought to himself. he was pathetic, and he knew that, but that didn’t stop him from pressing on the top link.

his thumb tapped against the glass screen, entering the website.

he was quickly met with the thumbnails of various sexual acts. from girls with a cock shoved down their throats, to girls getting folded while a man is on top of them. leon was uninterested.

he never liked porn videos made with high production, it was fake, unappealing. the bright lighting, the obnoxious moaning, and the stupid faces the girls make. it was ick worthy, leon always preferred amateur porn. it was charming when a video was poorly produced, with bad quality, and crooked angles. he liked that over other porn videos.

opening the search bar, he typed the word amateur. after clicking search, he scrolled down various videos before he found one that caught his attention.

it was a masturbation video, the title wasn’t crazy either.

college girl masturbates solo :)

it was cute, the little smiley face felt so out of place on a site like this, but it piqued his curiosity. in the thumbnail your hands were between your thighs, and the position of your phone was up — like you were taking a selfie. he didn’t see much of your face, by the angle he could only see your soft lips as you bit your bottom lip. you were wearing a cute set of lingerie, too.

there was something so cute about you, from the cutesy title and your pretty lingerie, his curiosity lead him to click on the video.

the video loaded and the first thing he saw was your breasts as you adjusted the camera down. you were holding it yourself, the camera facing you. as the camera moved down, he saw your hands slipping down to your panties.

he couldn’t see your face, seems like you were shy.

he watched with anticipation as your fingers pressed against your clothed cunt, rubbing slow gentle circles on your clit. turning up the volume of his phone, he heard the way your breath hitched. he could see as your tummy moved up and down with every breath you took.

leon’s stomach tightened as blood began to rush to his cock, his hand moving to palm against his pants as he got hard.

after a minute of teasing, you put the phone down against your bed, leon heard fabric shuffling. after a few seconds, you grabbed the phone again. the angle stayed the same, but now he could see your pretty pussy.

it was slick, glistening.

his mouth went dry as he took in the sight, your manicured fingers gently pressed against your perky clit, your touch was light, and you were savoring the pleasure.

leon heard a soft moan leave your lips, his hips squirmed as he grabbed his cock through the fabric of his pants. his hand moving to slowly grope himself.

he continued to watch with eager eyes, his hand moving to unbutton his jeans and unzip his pants. eagerly, he slipped his hand under his underwear, his hand pulling his cock out.

it was standing tall, pre-cum leaking from the slit.

he shuddered, he hasn’t been this hard in what felt like forever. he genuinely thought he lost his spark, he was in his late thirties after all.

his hand wrapped around his cock, a shaky breath left his lips as he squeezed it. his cock was thick, it wasn’t the biggest there was, but it would leave girls dumbfucked. or well, it used to. he hasn’t gone that hard in a while.

his cock was pretty, his tip was reddish, veins adorned it. the ones that made the girls mushy and whimpery.

the mental image of the girls he’s shoved his cock into filled his head. truthfully, he doesn’t really remember faces, but he remembers how they reacted. their bodies trembling and loud moans.

oh, how he missed it.

as he stared at your pretty pussy, all he could think about was shoving his cock deep inside you. have you whimpering and gasping his name as he kept you folded.

his cock twitched, fuck.

you were getting him so hard, he didn’t even think it was possible given his track record in the last few years. biting the inside of his cheek, he let out a breath, he was this hard over a girl on a porn website, but he couldn’t get this hard when he was balls deep inside a hooker’s cunt. god, this was pathetic.

pathetic, pathetic, pathetic..

you’re pathetic leon.

even as the words repeated in his head, his hand was still working on his cock, jerking and tugging on his shaft. his eyebrows were furrowed and his lips parted slightly, keeping his gaze on you, he watched as you rubbed your clit faster.

he could hear your small shaky moans, you were close and so was he.

his balls were tightening, his breathing was heavy, small pants leaving his lips as he rubbed his cock raw. chasing for a high he hasn’t felt in years.

a choked groan left his lips as he came, cum spurting out of his tip in amounts he hasn’t had since he was in his twenties. his cum was milky and thick. he continued to gently jerk his cock as he rode out his orgasm, another groan leaving his lips as his head leaned back.

his eyes fluttered shut as he felt his cock softening in his hands.

holy fuck.

his mind was fuzzy, he had almost forgotten about his phone until he heard a moan come from it. he moved his gaze towards the screen and watched as your hand stayed between your thighs before they slammed shut and you began to ride out your orgasm.

leon watched with eager eyes as you rode out your high nicely.

he squirmed and let go of his flaccid cock, his cum staining his hand, his stomach, and his pants.

he moved his hands and they gripped his phone again, he tapped on your username and watched your profile. your profile picture was a shy picture of your chest, a different set of lingerie holding your tits up.

looking at your bio, he shuddered as he read your information.

your name was pretty, it suited you. he saw your age listed, twenty-one, he just had the cum of his life to a video of a twenty-one-year-old? a feeling came to him, he didn’t know how to feel. staring at his screen, his mind still processing that information, should he be disgusted? guilty? ashamed?

he sucked in a breath and gulped.

him, a man in his late thirties, almost forty, just came to a video of a twenty-one year old girl.

it felt wrong, right? she was almost two decades younger than him, when the racoon city incident happened you weren’t even born yet. this had to be wrong.

but it wasn’t, and he knew that.

sure, the gap was questionable, but it was legal. yet, he felt so..wrong.

the worst part was that even after he realized this, he still watched your other videos.

choked moans left your glossy lips, your eyes shut and eyebrows furrowed up in pleasure. your mouth was slightly agape, forming an ‘o’ shape. leon’s cock slamming down into your cunt, his hand was placed on the small for your back as he held your upper body down and kept your ass up.

he let out small pants, his eyes shutting in bliss.

your walls were warm and snug, sucking his cock back inside your cunt with a wet squelch. you were so wet, your cunt practically drooling. it was driving him mad.

his free hand was gripping your ass, holding onto the fat like his life depended on it, his dull nails digging into your skin. he let out a guttural groan as he felt your pussy tighten around him, squeezing, milking him. he didn’t have the self control he had back then, he was edging himself to try and last longer.

it was hard, his balls were heavy with cum, cum he wanted to stuff deep inside you.

his eyes shut tightly, he bit down onto his bottom lip, his thrusts got sloppily — fuck, fuck, fuck. “s-shit—“ he choked out, his head leaned back as a whimper slipped past his lips. his cock throbbed no matter how hard he tried to stop himself, his cum spurted out of his tip.

he shook as it spurted in waves, his eyes fluttered open and he panted. “sorry—“ he said, feeling bad for not letting you cum first and filling you up without any form of protection. you hummed in reply, your ass still in the air as he pulled out. his cock getting softer, his lidded gaze watched as his cum slipped out of your puffy pussy, falling in glops onto his sheets.

he felt hot as he watched it, he was about to say something when—

his eyes opened and a shaky breath left his lips, it took a moment for him to adjust to his surroundings. quickly sitting up on his bed, leon was met with the saddening realization he was alone.

you weren’t sleeping next to him, his bed was cold.

not only that, but his pants were wet. he pulled the blanket off his body and groaned when he realized he had cum inside his pants. rubbing his forehead, he slipped off his bed groggily.

it was still dark out, his bedroom was completely dark aside from the natural light of the moon that entered through his windows.

leon hastily took his pants and underwear off, throwing them across the room to where he thought his laundry basket was. he walked to his cabinets and dug into his underwear drawer before he put them on, stumbling a bit before he finished.

running his hands through his hair, he stalked over to his bed and laid down.

reaching out for his nightstand, he grabbed his phone, this time he was mindful of the brightness so he adverted his eyes and quickly lowered it before staring at the screen.

no new messages, he frowned, except an email. it was an advertisement.

he scrolled through his apps and found one, the one you’re most active on.

instagram.

leon was rather clueless about social media, but the only reason he had it was to stalk your account. he opened the app and saw that you had uploaded a new story. he quickly tapped on the bubble and watched through your posts.

you were out that night, you took photos and various videos of the night. wearing a little black dress, your tits were practically spilling out, one wrong move and your panties would be exposed. you looked beautiful though, he adjusted himself in his bed and stared at the picture you captioned ‘fit check! :D.’ he couldn’t get over how cute your little captions were, it was humorous. a cute little emoticon at the end of a text while the picture behind it was you in the sluttiest outfit you could find.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon took a screenshot of the story and continued to scroll by your posts.

you looked so happy, so pretty. leon loved the way you smiled, all teeth, it all seemed so genuine. you were with your friends in the videos, giggling and dancing along to whatever song the club was blasting.

after he finished going through your story, he clicked on your account, no new posts. a deep sigh left his lips as he put his phone back on his nightstand and turned to his side. pulling the blankets up, it didn’t take long for him to fall asleep once more.

leon wasn’t sick.

he wasn’t a bad man, he wasn’t a freak, he was just lonely.

he was lonely and desperate, that’s what he told himself. he had this lingering guilt that manifested in the back of his head, you’re a sick man, leon. that’s what it repeated, every night, while he re-watched your videos and looked through the photos he had saved, it spoke.

sick. you are sick.

leon swore he wasn’t, he was just a broken man. one that found solace in you.

the age gap was eating him up inside, he had never thought of himself as someone who would find girls in their twenties attractive. yet, where he was.

he didn’t want to imagine what people would say if they found out he jerked off nightly to the thought of you. not just your videos, but the thought of you. he found himself daydreaming about you, not just in sexual situations, but romantic ones.

at the store he finds himself looking at the flower display, thinking about getting you flowers, trying to guess what flowers you would like the most. in public, when he saw couples, a bitter swirl churned in his stomach. jealousy, he was jealous that he couldn’t do the same with you.

this was developing into more of a followership, it was slowly seeping into the realm of obsession. delusion was his best friend.

occasionally, you participated in live streams.

it was cute, you were more talkative there, and you interacted with your followers happily. he was a quiet supporter, he didn’t use the chat room. you were too intimidating, he didn’t want to say something that could make you uncomfortable. he mostly gave you gifts, sending in money for you, he didn’t say much when he donated. occasionally he would type a small message for you to read with each donation, but it was rare.

that didn’t matter though. being able to hear you say his name, albeit his username, made him happy.

in these live streams, he’s been able to learn a lot about you. he knows you’re a college student, he knows you’re studying literature, he knows you’re a good student, he knows your favorite food, your favorite animal, how you like to spend your time, and much more.

he knows more about you than the people he knows in his life.

tonight, you had scheduled a livestream. posting about it on your instagram story.

‘i’m gonna be live tonight at 8 p.m. come by to talk, and i have a surprise too! >_<’ leon was curious, a surprise? so, of course he entered the stream after you started it. he needed to know what you were planning, maybe he could be part of it.

you sat in front of your camera and greeted all of the people coming in.

leon stared at you, you were so pretty, he thought. god, he felt like a teenage boy.

get a fucking grip.

your eyes focused on the screen where the chat box was opened, he watched as your eyes lit up, “welcome back, kennedy!” you said, looking back at the camera. looking straight at him.

his mouth went dry when you addressed him.

he clicked on the chat box, looking through to see if there was another kennedy, he didn’t want to jump straight to conclusions and embarrass himself. but there was no one else with the display like that.

SKENNEDY001

okay, he wasn’t very good at making usernames. he stared at his screen, unsure of what to do. you addressed him, should he say hi back? he’s never spoken in the chat room before. what if this went wrong?

slowly tapping on the keyboard, he replied with a simple. ‘hello, how are you?’ — best he plays it safe, right? his face feels hot, and he feels embarrassed. he’s always been more of a silent admirer, honestly, he never expected you to actually notice him. all sorts of different thoughts filled his head, from negative to positive. what would people think, what would you think if you found out that the biggest reason you’re paying your bills was because of some man in his late thirties who watches your content like it’s the news.

but what if you were into that? he’s heard stories about girls thinking older men were attractive, were you that type?

“i’ve been good!” you replied, snapping him out of his flood of thoughts. “i’ve seen you around, i think you might be my biggest fan.” you winked.

leon’s heart was practically beating out of his chest, he knew you meant it like a compliment, but it felt like you were pointing out how much of a lonely loser he is. “i just wanted to say thank you, your donations really help.” you said with a smile, that same pretty smile that drove him crazy, the smile he adored.

he didn’t know what to say, if he wanted to, he could write a detailed essay about you and how much he admires obsesses over you.

‘you’re welcome.. i like to support you.’ he typed back, after hitting send, he squirmed. did that sound weird? staring at your face intensely as you read through the chat, you let out a small laugh. “thank you, kennedy.” you replied, looking back at the camera. seeing how full the stream was getting, he decided that this was the end of the conversation.

his chest felt fuzzy, a feeling he hadn’t had in years, a feeling he had completely forgotten about.

he was obsessed with you.

the stream continued smoothly, you teased the camera, showing off your body and tempting the men, like him, who watched. by now he needed to rub one out during your streams, who would he be if he didn’t?

the stream was coming to a close, but before you spoke. “oh! the surprise from earlier, i almost forgot.” you said with a small laugh as you leaned back against your chair.

“basically, i was thinking, why not have a little contest.” you said, smirking at the camera. “imagine this is an auction,” you said, “the highest bidder gets to have a private, on one, video call with me.” you said, looking at your camera. “who knows, maybe that call can lead to something else.” you hummed, winking at the camera as you slid your hand down your chest.

leon blinked, a call with you? it was a dream come true. the only thing this lonely man could ask for.

you continued on, opening a gift box for anyone who wanted to get a chance with you.

he ignored how this could lead to poor financial decisions, he needed that call. he needed you for himself, he needed you to address him — to talk to him, he needed your attention like a lost puppy.

the gift period was only open for about fifteen minutes, first come first serve type of thing.

luckily, unlike the other people in the stream, he’s a government agent. with that title comes money, so as a way to secure that call, he sent you thousands.

he watched as you read the screen, your eyes widening as you saw the notification come in that you had received a few thousand dollars from your shy admirer. “holy shit.” you gasped, “okay— we have a winner! we have skennedy001 that donated over a thousand dollars!” you said, stammering as surprise filled your bones. “i’m closing the bid, that’s way too much money!” you said, giggling as you shut the bid off.

the people in the chat were going crazy, some were taking the loss like losers while the others congratulated the mystery man.

not too long after the stream ended, leon shut his phone off and stared at it. a deep breath left his lips, he didn’t know what to expect after being called the winner, but when he got a notification someone had messaged him through the streaming app, he opened it.

what he didn’t expect was to have a message from you in his inbox.

‘hey, kennedy! omg, that donation was insane! i didn’t expect that much money, please let me give you some money back! i really don’t deserve that much!! :,,)) you’re so sweet, and i appreciate it sososo much!!’

leon stared at the screen, double-checking that it was really you that had contacted me, his face got hot, did he overdo it? was that too desperate? oh, definitely it was, but still.

running his fingers through his hair, he began to type back, trying to brainstorm what to say, but after a solid five minutes of debating his options, he finally replied.

‘hello, i’m glad you appreciated it, but no. it’s okay, you can keep all of it. that’s the reason i donated it. spoil yourself.’

he typed back, his icy blue eyes hyper focused on the screen, he watched as in the span of a few seconds a small text bubble popped up as three dots bounced around. you were replying.

‘aww! are you sure? like, a 100% sure? i’m just making sure!! i just don’t wanna feel like i’m stealing from you, or something LOL!’

your text was cute, lighthearted, and warm, you were so considerate. he liked that, and his thumbs began to type out a reply.

‘no, no. it’s okay, really. just enjoy yourself.’

he replied he was trying his best to not seem uninterested. he has been told many times before that he was very “dry texter” — he had been told how uninterested he sounded with his texting habits and how it could make someone want to stop replying, and he didn’t want that. he just wasn’t sure what to say.

‘omg i am so grateful for your kindness! i’ve seen you in my streams a lot, i have honestly wondered about you. i’m glad you won the bid, tbh i wanted you to win LOL it gave me a reason to talk to you!’

oh my god. leon’s eyes widened slightly at your text, you were bold, is this how it feels like to get butterflies? he blinked, how was he supposed to reply? he’s never texted a girl in her twenties, what do girls like? what will keep you interested?

‘oh, yeah?’ he replied, reverting back to his usual dry texts, but you were lively, you knew how to keep the conversation going.

the conversation was sweet and lengthy, you ended up suggesting you move to your instagram messages so she could talk to him more often.

leon’s heart was practically going to explode out of his chest, he was giddy yet nervous. you had told him that you guys could arrange the video call for the next day at night after you finish some college work.

he was stressed, leon wasn’t sure what to expect. he’s seen your pretty face, but you haven’t seen his. his instagram profile is of an old landscape photo he took a while back, what if the camera isn’t flattering for him? he did warn you that he was in his late thirties? he didn’t want you to get your hopes up for a younger man. maybe he should just keep his camera off.

nonetheless, that night, he went to sleep happier than he has been in a while.

≻ the next day, leon was practically counting down the hours, the minutes, the seconds, until he got to see you. in the morning, he had been excited — the people around him noted his giddy attitude, but when asked why, he didn’t say anything.

he couldn’t expose himself.

but as the clock ticked and the hours passed by, leon found himself much more nervous than he’s ever been. he doesn’t want to fuck this up, in his delusion. he thinks that if this goes well, maybe, just maybe, this could evolve to something more.

you were so sweet to him last night, but the more he thinks about it, perhaps it was flattery.

he hadn’t thought about it now, this might just be all an act. something to keep him wrapped around your pinky finger, but he decided to push those thoughts down so he wouldn’t spoil his night.

once he reached his place, leon was angsty, the sun was slowly going down. the sky was a beautiful mix of warm colors: orange, red, and yellow. he could also see a hint of blue mixed in as the night sky began to slowly settle.

entering his apartment, he slipped inside the door and shut it behind him. locking it, a person could never be too safe, right?

he kicked off his shoes and slipped off his jacket, he haphazardly threw his jacket on his sofa before he made his way over to his room. he plopped down onto his bed and slipped his phone and flask out of his back pocket. opening the flask, he raised the metal container up to his lips and took in a quick shot of whiskey.

he couldn’t go into this sober.

letting the flask rest on his lap, he opened his phone and opened instagram. he looked at the messages he had with you. oh, he forgot to reply to your last message a few hours ago. he pursed his lips, fuck he feels bad, leon wasn’t an avid texter, so it was easy for him to forget.

‘sorry for the late reply, i was working.’ he hit send before he could register how “dry” that sounded, he quickly scrambled to text a bit more, so he didn’t seem too boring. ‘i’m nervous for the call.’

why would he say that?

leon shut his eyes, he was really bad at this.

after a few minutes of leon anxiously waiting for your reply, a ping came from his phone. quickly looking down at the screen, he saw that you replied.

‘aww, don’t be nervous! i don’t bite, unless you want me to ;)’

he let out a breath at your words, it felt like you always knew what to say, the number of times you’ve said something sly during the conversation that had his chest fuzzy must be over ten in the span of twenty-four hours.

leon started to type back, but he stopped mid-sentence. he wasn’t sure what to say, he was fumbling over his words, and no sentence he tried to type up made sense.

he saw your text bubble pop up, you were typing.

‘what? did i make you nervous? ;p’ — yes, yes you did.

he felt like he was in his early twenties, stumbling and stammering when a pretty girl gave him attention. jesus, has it really been that long since he’s felt something like this? god, that’s so sad.

leon ran his fingers through his hair, pushing his dark hair back, ‘yes, i don’t know how to behave when a pretty girl is talking to me.’ now it was your turn to blush, leon leaned against his headboard as he stared at his phone.

‘ohhh? is mr. kennedy getting bold? ;)) i’m excited for the call, just give me one more hour ♡’

‘take your time.’

during that hour, leon decided to try and freshen up, at least a bit. he knew he wasn’t going to turn on his camera, but maybe getting refreshed would make him feel more confident in himself.

he changed out of his work clothes and took a quick shower, he slipped on some comfortable sweatpants and a black compression shirt that he typically used when he was working out. as he looked at himself in the mirror, he noticed the eye bags that hung under his eyes and the stubble that covered his cheeks and chin.

moving his hand up to his face, he ran his fingers through his stubble and sighed as he felt the facial hair scratching his skin. should he have shaved this morning? he didn’t know, he hadn’t been bare-faced in a few years now, as he aged the clean look he used to have didn’t fit him anymore.

reaching over for his flask that he had left on the bathroom counter, leon quickly took another swing of his flask and then sighed as he put it back on his counter.

he was so fucking nervous and for what? he’s been face to face with death before, he’s encouraged over thousands of zombies in his lifetime and yet he’s so nervous at the idea of talking to you.

feeling his phone buzz in his pocket, leon scrambled to take it out before looking down at his screen. it was you.

‘okay! i’m ready, are you? ;)’ — no, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be, but he replied, ‘yes. how does this work?’ he replied, unsure of what you were planning.

he watched as the text bubble popped up from your end as you typed again, ‘its suuuper easy! i’ll set up a voice chat and send you the link, then i’ll turn my camera on so you can see me!’ biting his bottom lip, leon moved out of the bathroom and sat down in his bed, his back resting against the headboard as he stared down at his phone.

‘okay, i’ll wait for you.’ he replied as he tried to relax, letting out a deep sigh, leon shut his eyes for a few seconds before he felt his phone buzz again.

looking back at the screen, you had sent him a link.

‘here it is! ;)’ the text said, his thumb hovered over the screen as he bit the inside of his cheek and hesitated before quickly tapping the link. the link opened up another website, the same one you use for streams. it took a few seconds for it to load, but he could tell his camera was off and his mic was muted.

okay, good.

eventually, the screen loaded and he saw you, you were wearing a cute tank top of a band, he’s seen the band name around before. it was popular back in the early 2000s, you didn’t have any sexy clothes on, it was actually cute. it made you feel even more real.

“hi!” you said as you waved at the camera, “let me know if the camera and audio are working properly, sometimes the app gives me issues,” you said with a smile as you stared at your screen. leon went to open the chat box, but he realized that if he wanted to make the most out of this call, talking to you would better.

taking in a deep breath, he cleared his throat and unmuted his microphone. “..it works,” he said, his face feeling hot as he spoke.

leon had always been rather charming and talkative in real life, so why was he so shy? it wasn’t anything like him, did his loneliness really ruin him? your eyes lit up when you heard his voice, surprised he spoke.

he watched as a smile curled on your lips, “i’m glad!” you said, leaning in closer, giving leon a full view of your cleavage, he noticed a black lace bra underneath your shirt. tilting your head to the side, you hummed, “soo..how was your day?” you asked curiously as you stared up at the camera with a small smirk. leon hated how quick it was for him to feel pressure growing in his pants when it came to you.

why was it so easy to get hard for you?

“it was good..you?” he asked softly, his hand slipping down his body to grip his cock through his pants. your smirk turned into a smile, “my day was good too! thank you for asking,” you hummed, “so, what do you want to do?” you asked, leaning back against your chair as you moved your hand to hold your tit, squeezing the mound playfully. “it’s just you and me, no need to be shy.” you winked.

leon squirmed in his bed, “..i don’t know actually,” he muttered, “i never got to decide how i wanted to approach this.” he said, squeezing his bulge and sighing. “..i wanted to just talk and get you know you more, but..” he trailed off, unsure if he should tell you that his cock was hard at the mere sight of you.

you seemed to get the hint when you heard the shaky breath that left his lips, “got too excited, didn’t you?” you teased, biting your bottom lip as you batted your eyelashes to the camera. “it’s okay, let me help you.” you offered, that pretty smirk of yours coming back to your lips.

leon’s eyebrows furrowed as he felt his cock throb inside his pants.

“..a-are you sure? i don’t want to ruin the call.” leon murmured, his voice uneven as he tried to resist the urge to slip his hand under his pants' waistband.

a small laugh left your lips as you shook your head, “of course not,” she said playfully, “you won this call, you get to choose whatever we do.” you said, “what’s your name?” you asked, moving to press your arms together to have them push up your tits.

leon let out a sigh and watched with a hazy look in his eyes as you pressed your chest together. “it’s leon.” he replied quickly, now eager to have you say his name.

humming, you smiled, “okay, leon. should i take off my shirt? i have a new pair of lingerie just for you.” that whole sentence could’ve made leon cum right there without any friction. the way you said his name, it was smooth, like honey. you were hot and you knew it, “y-yes, please.” leon mumbled out pathetically as he stared at his screen intensely.

you nodded and reached down for the bottom of your shirt, slowly pulling it up and discarding your shirt to the corner of your room. once your shirt was removed, leon got an eye full of your tits being held up by the new lingerie, it was a push up bra. your tits were rounded and plush, the black lace that surrounded the fabric was real pretty.

“do you like it?” you asked softly as you adjusted your bra strap, leon gulped and shuddered. “yeah, it’s pretty..it suits you.” leon said, you were so fucking hot. he wanted to jack off and cum right there, but that would just show how much of a pathetic man he is.

you only took off your shirt and leon came? embarrassing.

so, he edged himself. deciding to play it safe with palming himself through his pants. his hand moving slowly to not get too eager and fuck it up.

“you think so?” you mused, looking at the camera as your hands moved to squeeze your tits and push them closer. fondling yourself for his pleasure.

leon groaned and nodded, he knew his camera was off and that you couldn’t see it, but he couldn’t help it. “mhm, black suits you.” he said, shifting in his bed to adjust his position. “want me to take it off?” you asked curiously, looking at the camera with an amused smile. “i think my tits are pretty, it would only be fair for you to see.” you teased as you squeezed your mounds.

leon’s throat felt dry, he felt parched.

“yes,” leon shuddered out, looking down at the screen. you laughed and stood up, you adjusted your camera for it to catch your body as you stood. leon saw you were only wearing some cute little panties that brought out your ass.

turning around, your back faced the camera before you moved your hair out of the way and moved your hands to the clasps of your bra.

you were quick to unclip your bra and take it off, throwing it off to the side, to a place the camera can’t pick up. by where you threw your shirt, leon assumed. your movements were always so smooth, hypnotic almost. leon was convinced you were perfect, made with no flaws.

turning around, you held your tits up in your hands before you stepped closer and let your mounds drop. leon got a screen full of tits, you let out a laugh and moved your body in a slow sway, your tits moving around as you did so. “like ‘em?” you mused playfully before reaching up and squeezing your nipple.

leon’s head leaned back as a small groan left his lips, his hand moving down to grip his dick through his pants. “yes, fuck.” leon said with a pant.

you moved back from the camera and sat down onto your chair before adjusting the camera stand so leon could see you better.

“are you jerking off?” you asked, smirking at the lens, leon let out a small whine. “no, n-not yet.” he mumbled, his voice straining as he tried to sound level headed, but of course it didn’t work given how he stuttered. leon cursed at himself mentally, he sounds like a fucking pussy right now.

you let out a small laugh at his stutters, “what? you don’t wanna jerk off to me? you’re hurting my feelings.” you said softly as she tilted your head, leon’s eyes widened. oh shit, no, that’s not what he wanted to do.

“wait, shit—“ he tried to explain, “i didn’t mean it like that..i just want to savor the moment.” he said, shutting his eyes in embarrassment.

you smiled, “yeah? why not savor it while jerking off? i have my tits out just for you.” you teased, pouting as you did so. leon paused, you were right, your tits were out and you were willing to do anything for him and he was just edging himself?

a small groan left his lips, “yeah..okay.” he mumbled, his hand slipping under the waistband of his pants before he gripped his cock. his large hand wrapped around his shaft, his cock throbbing again due to the pressure, leon put his phone down and used his other hand to shimmy his pants down. once the waistband was wrapped around his knees, leon leaned back against the headboard and sighed as he gripped his dick.

reaching out for his phone, leon fumbled with it with one hand before finding the right position to hold it. unbeknownst to him, while he fumbled with the phone, he had pressed against the camera button.

his camera turned on and he had no idea.

you, on the other hand, were met with the sight of the mystery man that had been supporting you the most.

he was hot.

like really fucking hot, your interest on this man peaked after you saw his pretty face. he was resting his phone on his thigh was he held it up, you could see the stubble on his face, his dark black hair. he was older than you expected, but if anything it added to the appeal.

this man seemed to be seasoned, he was staring down at his phone with his eyebrows furrowed as a small sigh of bliss left his lips. he was jerking his cock, you noticed by the way his body moved, there was an arm that wasn’t getting picked up by the camera that worked on rubbing his cock raw.

you noticed how his icy blue eyes focused on you, staring at the screen of his phone with a lovesick look on his face.

he looked so pathetically hot, it wasn’t something you thought you’d find attractive, but seeing how desperate this older man was for you made you unbelievably horny. you squirmed in your seat before your hand slipped down, you moved and slipped your hand under the fabric of your panties. letting out a sigh, you felt your middle finger gently toy your clit.

“leon?” you mused, leaning your head back and spreading your legs for the camera to pick up how your hand was shoved under your panties. you reached over to your desk and grabbed a dildo, showing it to him. “wanna watch?” you offered, moving the silicone cock in a playful manner.

leon’s eyes widened in surprise, but nodded.

he gulped and you watched as his adam’s apple bopped up with the swallow.

leon watched as you slipped off your panties and grabbed a bottle of lube. you quickly coated your pretty pussy and dildo with the thick cream and leaned back once more.

your pussy was on full display as you pressed the tip of the dildo against your puffy folds. “ready?” you asked softly as you bit your bottom lip.

this whole scene that was unfolding in front of leon felt like it was going to kill him. he’s seen your pussy before, he’s seen you fuck yourself before, but there was something different this time. it was all dedicated to him.

only him.

“yes,” he shuddered as he gripped his cock tightly, you smiled at him and slowly slipped the dildo inside of you. a soft sigh left your lips as your warm pussy sucked in the silicone, leon watched eagerly. like a kid in a candy store, he would kill to be the one inside you.

your squirmed and rolled your hips against the dildo, looking into the camera as your free hand moved to grip your tit. “oh, leon.” you moaned out, smirking as you watched your screen to see his reaction. “you feel so good..” you teased.

leon’s eyes widened when he heard you moan out his name, were you pretending it was him fucking you? did you want to send his heart into cardiac arrest?

this cock throbbed against his hand, begging for attention, pleading for leon to let it cum.

leon’s balls were heavy with cum, it was unbearable to keep teasing, but he couldn’t help it.

a small whine left leon’s lips as he slowly stroked his cock, watching as you fucked yourself with your dildo. “you think so?” leon replied back, his face felt hot as he spoke, he’s never done dirty talk through the phone. he was embarrassed, was he doing it right?

you nodded, smiling hazily at the camera, “mhm..” you trailed off as a small gasp left your lips, the dildo focused on fucking your pussy. your eyes fluttered shut as you savored the filling feeling of your dildo, the silicone ridges and fake veins pressing and molding your walls. your pace was steady, your head leaning to the side as you continued.

leon was getting the perfect view of your pretty face and your stuffed cunt. he could hear the soft squelches coming from your cunt as it sucked the dildo back inside eagerly. he watched as your pussy glistened with slick, his body aching, he wanted to be there with you. he wanted to feel you.

but the world was cruel towards leon, and all he could do is watch and pretend he was the one fucking you.

“you’re so big.” you babbled softly, watching your computer screen, watching his reaction. he shuddered and trembled, moving on his cock slowly.

leon shut his eyes and grunted, his head leaning back desperately as his body ached. he occasionally looked back at the screen, looking at you with such admiration behind his gaze. like he was admiring a beautiful painting.

he was so cute.

“y-yeah,” he groaned, his body feeling hot, it was overwhelming. he felt the thinnest sheet of sweat coat his body, a swirling feeling coming to his lower tummy, it felt like a tight pressure. “—am i making you feel good?” he whispered out, his eyes shutting as his hand continued to jerk his cock.

each jerk felt like a rush of electricity went through his veins, an electric shockwave whose only purpose was to bring pleasure.

you moved your hand down and gently began to toy with your clit, pressing on the puffy bud as you fucked yourself. “no one has ever made me feel like this, leon.” you teased, moaning out his name softly. it was like music to his ears.

he couldn’t take it anymore, he physically couldn’t hold back, he should’ve gotten a cock ring to try and make him last longer.

“m’gonna cum, i’m sorry—“ he babbled, feeling bad for cumming so fast, he just didn’t have the self control he used to have on his prime. his hand began to jerk his cock in a fast, sloppy pace. his chest was rising and falling rather quickly, unable to catch his breath as he chased his orgasm.

leon moved his phone, he kept it by his lap, but by the position you could see his aching cock.

“it’s okay, baby.” you mumbled out, watching as he neared his orgasm. his dick was pretty, the size was okay, the thickness was there, and his tip was bright red. his hand gripped his shaft, he had pretty hands. large and masculine, you even saw an expensive watch wrapped around his wrist. you knew he had money, how else would he be sending you such high donations, but something in your stomach fluttered when you noticed.

you continued to fuck your dildo into your pussy, trying to match his sloppy pace. “cum for me.” you hummed, your tone playful and laced with lust.

this was so hot.

leon shuddered and moaned, his hand continued to rub his cock raw, he clenched his jaw and shut his eyes tightly as he focused on cumming.

the pressure in his lower belly was so tight, but after a couple of more harsh jerks, the tight knot inside his stomach burst. his balls strained and tightened as cum began to spurt out of his tip. it was thick and milky, staining leon’s stomach and hand.

while he came, leon’s body trembled, his toes curled, and his back arched slightly as a loud moan left his lips. he didn’t mean to moan out like that, but with the circumstances he couldn’t help it. this was pure bliss, his body felt lighter and his head felt fuzzy. he continued to slowly stroke his cock as it throbbed, he rode out his orgasm, his cum still spewing out of his cock for a few more seconds before his body relaxed.

leon shuddered as his cock began to go soft in his hand, he grimaced as he looked at the cum that stained his hand before wiping it off against his sweats.

panting, leon looked back at his phone, his face was red and his whole body was hot.

“shit, i’m sorry, i wanted to wait for you.” leon said breathlessly, you shut your eyes and continued to toy with your clit as you shook your head. “don’t apologize, it was really hot.” you moaned out, fluttering your eyes open as you looked at the monitor, eyeing him up as he laid back panting.

your clit was puffy and slick, aching for more.

rolling your hips up, your hands continue to work against your cunt, making your legs twitch and tremble. putting on a show for the lonely man in front of you.

biting the inside of his cheek, leon watched desperately, if he was younger he probably would’ve gotten hard again as he watched, but his cock didn’t have enough strength to stand. it didn’t matter, now leon could finally appreciate you, your pretty face, your pretty body, and your pretty pussy.

he loved the faces you made, they were so genuine.

if he was fucking you, would you be making those faces too? god he hoped so.

by now, a specific heat blossomed by your clit as your finger toyed with it. your touch was gentle and light, it felt like your clit was burning in the hottest way as the nerves went on overdrive.

“fuck, fuck, fuck—“ you whined, your voice strained as you focused on breaking the tight knot inside your lower tummy.

leon shuddered, seeing the way your eyebrows furrowed as you bit your bottom lip, you were so cute. leon wanted to say something, but it was like his brain was a blank slate. he couldn’t think, he couldn’t speak, he just watched as your glistening pussy throb.

it didn’t take long for the knot to snap, and once it did, your body jolted as a loud whine of his name left your lips. your thighs clamped together while your hand stayed pressed between your legs, the silicone cock was nestled nicely inside you, warm and sticky.

your body trembled as you panted, your head leaning back against the seat as you regained your thoughts.

god.

leon has seen you cum various times before, sure, but there’s something so different about it here. it was mind boggling and his head felt dizzy, a shiver going down his spine.

this was all a private show, all of this was only for him. no one else was as lucky as he was, he felt like he was getting spoiled.

watching you unravel and cry out his name had leon’s brain oozing, he felt demented, like his brain had melted and he was left as a zombie. he could tilt his head over right now and watch as his melted brain would come spilling out.

metaphorically, of course.

you reveled in the afterglow of your climax, your pussy felt like it was pulsating and throbbing. slowly, your hazy gaze focused back on the screen and you locked eyes with leon.

he let out a breath as he looked at you, it felt like you were really looking into his eyes.

he still had no idea his camera was on and you could see how enamored he looked.

slowly, with a long, soft squelch, you pulled the dildo out of your sticky pussy. you moved the silicone up to your lips and leaned in closer to the camera before you licked off the slick that coated the toy.

your tongue moved slowly, and occasionally you would glance at the camera, making eye contact with him as you cleaned up your dildo and the only thing that ran through leon’s head as he watched was: i wish that was me.

squirming, leon felt like his mouth was salivating at the sight.

eventually, you finished licking off your dildo before you placed a gentle kiss on its head before you put it away, hidden away from what the camera could pick up. “liked that?” you mused, tilting your head to the side with a cute little smile. it was almost funny how cute you looked after you fucked yourself in front of him.

“yeah.” leon said quickly, gulping back saliva as he looked at you so dearly, “um,” he began, clearing his throat awkwardly, “..is it okay to talk more? if you have the time.” leon mumbled, because deep down, he still wanted to talk to you — to carry a conversation with you, to try and charm you.

looking at the time displayed on your monitor, you hummed, drawing it out to tease him slightly. after a few seconds that felt like an eternity for leon, you looked back at the camera and nodded. “of course, i have time.” you said, winking at the camera before you stood up and slipped your panties on. you left the chair for a second before you picked up your band shirt off the floor and slipped it on.

plopping back down on the chair, you smiled and looked back at the camera.

“so, tell me more about you, leon.”

≻ the call ended not too long ago, leon rested his phone down on his bed as he let out a sigh and rubbed his forehead. his chest felt fuzzy and he felt giddy.

the two of you had spoke for a few hours and now that the call ended, leon yearned to hear your voice again.

he felt silly like this, but he couldn’t help it.

he missed your voice, your face, the way you moved your hands when you spoke, the small gestures you made when you talked about something you were passionate about.

he missed you.

reaching over for his flask, leon quickly popped it open and took another long swig. swallowing back his beloved whiskey like he was a dehydrated man drinking water, throughout the call, he hadn’t drank to try and not get drunk and ruin the moment. but now that the call ended and he had time, leon was happily swallowing back the whiskey.

hearing his phone buzz against his bed sheets, he reached out for it quickly, a swirl of excitement coming to him as he saw it was you that texted.

it was two attachments, a photo of your perky tits and another one of your computer screen — that’s where he saw it. he was on the screen.

the photo you had taken was when he had his phone down, getting a good angle of his side profile from the bottom. for the eyes of someone else, it was a good picture and he looked good. his hair was messy in just the right way, his adam’s apple was on display and given the fact his phone was down, the picture also captured his waist, chest, and shoulders. showing off his body underneath the shirt he wore.

it was a good photo, but leon’s heart dropped to the floor when he saw it.

had his camera been on the whole time? is that why there was a small red dot next to his selfie camera? clicking out of the photos, he read your text nervously, but after reading it, his face flushed.

taking back another swing of his flask, he shuddered.

‘you looked really good today ;)) wanna call again tomorrow? <3’

╰ TAGS: @gor3-hound @rigorwhoring @nilpill @ottermarbles @argreion @angelstargel @lysa1201-saucy @dilfsmaid @sweets3rial @doja-rat16 @bababsthings @frillyyyy @nyxxoxo @admirxation @gcldtom @ashrillvenheim @seraphicsuicides @altissia-09 @ghostier0t @biohazard-4ever @leonsgirl-111 @th3lma @squazmine @dakotali @neverg0nnagivey0uup @brblnc @emodanoriddler @v1ccc @dear-satan @skydisneylover @calansic @acidaciruela @vkurtmien @shiawaseorii @fxnfandxmmp4 @valentin78pon @antagonize-me-motherfucker

[moonstruckme]

I absolutely adore your roommate James series! It’s so tender and soft and sweet and it feels like the literary version of a hug 😭 you nail it every time!

Thank you sweetness!!! I am giving you a hug actually <3

cw: threatening with a weapon

part 1 | part 2 | part 3 │ part 4 │part 5 │ part 6 │ part 7 │ part 8 │ part 9 │ part 10 │part 11 │ part 12 │ part 13

roommate!James x shy!reader ♡ 1.2k words

Things have come to a point where James needs to admit to himself that he likes you as more than a friend. 

The problem is, he likes you as a friend so much. He’s no stranger to the dilemma of risking a friendship for something more, but he’s not a teenager anymore and you’re not Lily. James knows he wouldn’t be able to play it off as a silly, harmless crush with you. And, really, he wouldn’t want to. You bully your way into his thoughts all day long. Your sweet voice, the way you talk with your eyes, tiny moments like the way your lips parted when he’d first slipped and called you sweetheart. You’d schooled your expression into teasing exasperation almost immediately, but there had been a softening in your eyes that made him impatient to do it again.

If he told you all that, James would probably come home to find all your things gone. You can barely handle it when he tells you you look nice. He doesn’t want to lose you. 

So, against his wishes and all his instincts and proclivities, he’s going to let it lie. James wants to be your friend more than he wants to discover what else you could be together. He can love you this way, too. 

That doesn’t do anything to deaden the thrill that goes up his spine when he picks up his phone and hears your voice on the other end, though.

“James?” 

“Y/n?” He checks the number on his phone. It’s not in his contacts. 

“Yeah. Um, are you—are you busy?” There’s a wobble in your voice. James’ heart drops straight down to his stomach. 

“I’m not,” he says, stopping short of the field where his teammates are gathering and turning back towards his car. “Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah.” It’s clearly not, but he was silly to ask. Of course you’d say that. “I just, if you’re free, I was wondering if you could maybe pick me up?” 

That wobble hasn’t gone from your voice. James’ heart trembles in solidarity. 

He gets back in his car, starting the ignition with perhaps a tad too much force. “I’m on my way,” he promises. “Where are you, what’s wrong?” 

“I’m outside the Waterstones on Manor Road, you know where that is?” 

“I know the one, yeah.” 

Your voice sounds held together by fragments. “I’m sorry, it’s far.” 

“Don’t be sorry,” he says, then regrets it instantly. This is hardly the time for a good-natured scolding. He turns out of the parking lot. “I’m coming. What’s wrong?” 

“I’ve—I’ve had my phone and wallet taken. I don’t have my key to the apartment.” 

“Taken?” James’ head buzzes like a TV turned to the wrong channel. “By who?” 

“A man, I—I don’t know. Um, I’m borrowing this woman’s phone, and I think I should give it back.”

His lungs feel small, panic choking him. “I’ll be there in thirty minutes. Be safe, yeah?”  

“Yeah.” A breath crackles through the phone. James wonders if you’d been choking, too. “Thanks, James.” 

“Just be safe.” 

The sun has dipped below most buildings by the time he gets there. It makes it difficult to see you, but James’ eyes work like a compass, finding your shadowy form curled up on the curb. The bookstore looks to be closed or close to it, no patrons walking by you as you sit with your knees bent close to your chest. 

You see his car pull up, and he’s halfway to you before you’re even standing. Your arms come around James as readily as his around you, your face squished willingly into the fabric of his workout shirt. Your breath seems to stutter out of you. 

“It’s okay,” he says, grasping the back of your head. He’s not sure if he’s talking to you, or himself, or either of you. He’ll tell whoever will listen. “You’re okay, sweetheart, it’s alright.” 

“Sorry,” you squeak. “I don’t know why I’m crying now.” 

“You’re okay,” James says again, just for good measure. His lips find the top of your head. “What happened?” 

“I think I was mugged,” you laugh. It comes out warped, completely unlike the sound he’s spent months chasing after. “This guy showed me a knife, and told me to hand him my bag and phone, and I just gave them to him. It was right out in the open.” Another jagged, heart-aching laugh. “I feel so stupid.” 

“Why would someone else mugging you make you stupid?” James lets you go enough to give you a little space, but his arms stay around you, his hand rubbing firmly over your shoulder blade. “Did you call the police?” 

You gnaw on your lower lip. It already looks bitten to shreds. “No.” 

He nods, taking a breath. James isn’t typically the responsible one in his relationships. He’s not good at knowing what to do. It makes him think of being thirteen and seeing Sirius all bruised and broken, feeling his heart break and knowing that he had to fix things despite the both of them being too young to have any clue how to deal with something so huge. James is an adult now, but he still feels too young. 

“Do you want to go home?” he asks you. 

You bite down hard on your lip, but your eyes gloss anyway. “Yeah,” you say, voice breaking. 

James pulls you close and gives in to treating you the way he wants to, kisses pressed into your hairline and tender words pouring from his lips. He gets you into the car and takes you home. 

Throughout the rest of the evening, you’re at once more reticent and more talkative than you’ve ever been. You’ll stare into the distance for minutes at a time, but then you’ll speak up, seemingly randomly, about some small fact you’d forgotten or a thought that’s been pushing at your consciousness. You tell him that you don’t think you could describe the man well enough to the police. That you have no concept of how long you stood around before you thought to ask for someone else’s phone. That you sort of wish you’d refused to hand yours over, because really what was the worst that could have happened?

“Well, he could have stabbed you,” James says.

“Yeah, but how often is that really fatal? And he might not have. It’s embarrassing, all he had to do was show me the knife and I turned everything over. I probably would have been fine.” 

“I don’t think you’re automatically fine if you’re not dead, angel. You were still at risk of being stabbed.” 

“I’d still have my phone and everything, though.” 

“I think you’re worth a bit more than that stuff.” 

“Mm, agree to disagree.” 

James does things he doesn’t particularly want to do—phoning your bank, filing a police report online, texting your landlord about a new set of keys—and several things he really does want to do. Once you’ve changed into your cozy clothes he practically swaddles you in blankets, putting a hot chocolate in your hand and that show you’re always watching on the TV. He makes you dinner, teases you until he gets a real smile, puts your mum’s number in his phone and texts her to let her know you’re okay. James touches you amply, lips on your cheek and hand smoothing the hair from your face and one knee pressing into your leg through the blanket. 

And you let him. 

[elssero]

loser denki who even now as an adult never quite let go of his arguably childish obsession with video games.

his life consists of working, getting home and gaming for hours with occasionally seeing his friends.

he spends hours on his computer- extremely frustrated at his now 5th loss in a row, he’s getting increasingly angry in the vc when he gets a call from kirishima.

“dude you have to come out with us this weekend- we haven’t seen you in like, forever!” he thinks about it- he’s right. he hasn’t seen in his friends in awhile- how long has it been? maybe a month? he curses at himself quietly for his own antisocial behaviour.

they’ll probably go to some cheap bar downtown, not really having the money for anything nicer on their intern salaries.

ultimately he decides to go. begrudgingly agreeing despite really only wanting to play video games when the time to go actually comes around.

he doesn’t dress up- he can’t really remember the last time he wore something that wasn’t sweats and his hero costume.

the first hour is boring- the boys settle into a comfortable lighthearted chat. he watches as sero sends a wink to a group of girls at another table. jealousy bubbling in his throat as he watches the reactions his friends seems to bring out of girls easily.

he and his friends are sat at a high bar table, throwing back drinks when you catch his eye.

your stood at the bar- a singular friend next to you as you smile widely at the bartender- he assumes that your ordering yourself a drink- vodka cranberry he guesses when the man hands you it, you take out your purse and bartender refuses, explaining it’s on the house- blushing like crazy when you thank him loudly for being such a sweetheart.

denki figets in his seat when you turn to your friend, you notice him staring and flash him a small smile before grabbing your friends hand leading her back to the dancefloor with your free drink.

sero notices the change in his attitude immediately. “someone caught your eye dude?” and suddenly all three pairs of eyes snap towards him. “w-what? what are you talking about” he spits it out, far to quickly and far too suspiciously for his friends not to take notice.

“who is it man? you need me to wingman you to get you some pussy?” kiri this time- he’s beyond excited for his friend. it’s been awhile since someone caught denkis’s eye. he’s nothing like how he was in high school. still girl crazy but now a lot more reserved- less confident.

“na he’s hopeless- idiot couldn’t get pussy tonight if his life depended on it-” snickers are heard from two of the boys next to him.

“shut up bakugo.” he sighs “it doesn’t matter anyway- doubt she’d be interested in me.”

kiri doesn’t take that answer- forcing the blonde boy to point you out to him and he gasps when he does. “oh dude you have to go for it- maybe the prettiest girl i’ve seen in all night. if you don’t go for it soon someone else will”

his friends usher him to talk to you- nearly pushing up out of his chair as bakugo warns him not to mess it up or he’s going next.

he stumbles towards you- doubt brewing in his mind as the alcohol in his system spikes his nervousness as he makes his way over to you.

your dancing lazily with your friends when your back meets his chest. you jump forward and turn around to face him. an angry expression on your face before it melts when you look at him. throwing him that same huge smile you gave the bartender.

“watch where your going idio- oh it’s you! your that cute guy from that table at the window!”

his eyes widen at this- cute? you think he’s cute? he might just explode now before he has the chance to talk to you- “yeah- um h-hi?”

he cringes- wanting to kick himself for stumbling over his words as you keep eye contact with him. he looks away, too nervous to hold your intense stare.

“don’t be nervous baby- you came over to talk to me right?” his mind is racing- he’s sure he’s making a full of himself. the way you so easily give him that nickname making heat rise to his face.

“uh yeah- yeah i did.” you don’t reply to him, instead grabbing his hand as you begin to dance with him, he stands still for a second- still a little shocked that you haven’t immediately walked away from him.

“you know- your even cuter up close. was kinda hoping you’d come introduce yourself.” you speak to casually to him- as if he isn’t nearly shaking at your proximity.

“i’m y/n! what’s your name hun?” he stutters for a second before replying. “denki- my names denki.” he feels stupid. he doesn’t quite understand your willingness to talk to him but god does he feel lucky, suddenly extremely happy he decided to venture out tonight instead of spending hours online.

you continue to dance with him- he makes quick eye contact with his friends at his table, kiri is smiling wildly at him- like a proud dad. bakugo looks more shocked than anything, rolling his eyes as he watches you move yourself against his friend.

he doesn’t want to waste his chance- the feeling of your body against his spiking a surge of confidence in him. “do you think- f-fuck. do you think i could get your number?”

you turn around to face him again, face flushed as you look up at him- the look in your eye is intoxicating as you stare deep into his own. you pull yourself up to leen into his ear, he feels your breathe on his neck as you begin to speak.

“how about you take me home instead?”

small loser denki drabble bc i cant get him out of my head.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Long Snake Moan 1

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki

Summary: your boss gives you a task you're not prepared for.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“I think it’s best it comes from you,” Tony pats your shoulder. You stare at him in disbelief. 

“Me?” You bat your eyes dumbly. “But I just... I’m just passing along the information--” 

“Look, sweetheart, I’m in the middle of a PR crisis here.” He flashes his phone screen at you. The talk of Stark Tower has been his latest disaster out in the middle of nowhere. Usually, these things are forgotten but an unfortunate post has made the rounds. “You delivered the message perfectly, you can do it again.” 

“But, sir, with due respect, this isn’t exactly in my job description.” You walk backwards as he strides around his desk and tucks his phone away. 

“Your job is to do what I tell you to do. Now,” he looks at you, his eyes flicking up and down, “I think you’re the best possible carrier pigeon for this. Look at you. That ungodly asshole can’t be mad at you and I definitely am not telling him. Not without another explosion and I’m on probation right now.” He taps his chest and his suit expands around his body. “His brother should be wandering around, maybe he can help control the beast.” 

“Sir, don’t make me do this--” He goes to the window and hits the button to pop out the pane. 

“I pay you well enough, sweetheart, so get to work.” He jumps out and his helmet covers his head, blue flame blasting from his heels and gloves as he takes off into the sky.  

You cringe and look down. You should quit. You’ve been reciting the mantra to yourself for months; quit, quit, quit. You wish you had that choice. So far, your resume hasn’t baited any takers. Even with all your work for Stark Industries. Considering who your reference is, you’re starting to wonder. 

You glance around and steel yourself. You walk out of the office and down the hall. Your low heels click, in slow tempo with your dread. You trawl the top floor, searching for a certain blond giant. Thor isn’t anywhere to be found. You’ll have to try the compound... maybe you could just give them a call. 

No, you know Mr. Stark wouldn’t like that. Even if you could get a hold of either of the Asgardians, your boss would make you face the music in person. You take out your phone and scroll through the contacts. Most of them, you’ve never had to call, they’re only there for emergencies and usually, you’re not the one calling them for that. 

You put the phone to your ear as it dials. It rolls for so long, you’re certain you’ll get the voicemail. It picks up at the last moment, the line buzzing and unclear. 

“Hel-lo?” Thor’s deep baritone greets you. “It is the little assistant, yes?” 

You can just make out his hazy words. “Yes, Mr. Odinson? Can you hear me?” 

He laughs and you hear him shuffling around. The crackling stops and the line clears. “Mr. Odinson. You Midgardians. It’s Thor.” 

“Yes, Thor, well, um, where are you?” 

“Is there something the matter?” He asks as his tone turns dire. “Where are you, little one?” 

You ignore the question tossed back at you and clear your throat. “Um, it’s about... um, I think it would be best if we had this discussion face to face but Mr. Stark told me to pass on some news and yeah... I’d like to meet up if poss--” 

“Little one!” Thor appears before you, out of breath, his phone clutched in his hand. He didn’t hear a damn thing you just said. You smile. You’ve trained that expression so well, it’s almost believable. “Where is the danger?” 

You almost laugh. It’s endearing to have him so concerned. You doubt his brother will be as accommodating. 

“Hi, uh, like I said, it’s nothing serious. It’s erm, do you know where you brother is?” Your voice hits a pitch so high it makes your ears hurt. 

“Ugh, what has he done now? I swear, I’ve told him--” 

“It’s nothing he’s done. Well, it’s kind of it. Okay, um, Thor, I need to talk to your brother.” 

“Loki? You need to talk to him? No one wants to talk to Loki,” he narrows his eyes in consternation. 

“Yes, well, I have a job to do. I’d also appreciate if you’d be there to, you know, act as mediator,” you make yourself small as you push your shoulders up to your ears. “Please?” 

“Of course, little one, of course, let us go find that snake!” He grabs your arm before you can react and almost has you off your feet as he drags you down the hall. “I left him in the lobby. He isn’t fond of this place.” 

Maybe that will make this all easier, you think. 

Thor doesn’t slow down. You stumble with him as you struggle to keep your shoes from falling off. You tap his arm as you get to the elevator. 

“Really, we can take our time,” you assure him as he jams his finger into the down button.  

You’re really in no hurry for any of this. You’re almost hoping that if you put this off longer, someone else might just come along and tell them for you. You know that won’t happen but you can hope. Even so, Tony has more important things to do and as usual, you’re left with his grunt work. 

[waldau-archived]

mine — jeon wonwoo | 1,318 words | fluff

inspired by @boorines' post about bf!wonwoo :)

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

wonwoo doesn’t mind doing grocery runs as a punishment for making you wake up late on weekends, mainly because he doesn’t consider them as a punishment at all. it’s not his fault — work knocks him out like a log, and he loves spending all of his free time with you. he doesn’t leave bed till you’re out, but he doesn’t let go of you till he’s had his fill of holding you in his arms. it’s a win, either way.

he trails behind you on lazy mornings you spend at home, adoring the way you ruffle his bedhead and make it even messier, only because it brings a smile to your face. he loves when you place his glasses on his face so he can see you the way you deserve to be seen. he also loves when you make him sit and watch you move about the kitchen, letting him help every now and then and feeding him bites in between your cooking so he can gauge how it tastes.

it’s safe to say wonwoo’s smitten with you to the point he’d do anything you asked of him, which is why he hasn’t once considered the option of getting groceries home delivered ever since you moved in with him. he just loves being around you, however he can. and if it means walking around your local supermarket dressed in last night’s pajamas, it doesn’t matter, because he’s with you.

wonwoo loves spending precious time arguing about what brand of headphones are the best and debating about the benefits of skimmed milk. every single trip to the store always ends up with both of you buying a slab of this particular chocolate you hooked wonwoo onto a while ago. maybe it’s a good thing your niece is a sugar maniac, because you’re visiting her later this afternoon.

what he doesn’t love, however, is how he’s feeling right now. you’re not even doing anything wrong. you’re just talking to some guy in the frozen foods aisle, a carton of ice cream in your hand and your basket in the other. wonwoo’s itching to take the basket from you for two reasons: one, because he wants you to enjoy shopping while he carries your stuff around, and two, because he can’t think of a better way to break up the conversation between you and whoever this man is.

this man, who’s making you laugh on a saturday morning that should be spent with wonwoo, teaching you the ropes to the latest game he’s found on steam, tickling you till he hears that laugh, and having you rest your head on his shoulder when he’s reading.

not this.

he’s not jealous. of course not. but there’s no way this guy is funny enough to make you laugh the way you currently are. wonwoo knows you’ve laughed at lesser stuff he’s done and said, so he doesn’t really see what this guy possibly has on him.

he looks down at the packet of ramyeon in his hands before walking up to the two of you. he can’t help but grudgingly notice that the guy does look good, and henceforth, is a bit of a threat. wonwoo doesn’t have a grand plan, per se, to get this random stranger to leave you alone, but he begins by clearing his throat.

“your favourite flavour,” he says, dropping the packet unceremoniously into the basket you’re holding.

your conversation stops — which is kind of what he wanted — but now he’s faced with two sets of eyes staring at him.

“um,” he says, fazed by the sudden attention.

“thank you,” you say with a smile. wonwoo feels himself frowning. you didn’t call him baby or any of the usual endearments you do when you’re talking to him. not even his nickname. just thank you, like he’s some friend of yours.

which brings him back to the person at hand.

“did you want something?” you ask.

wow. yes, actually. “no,” he says, backing out slowly. “i’ll just…be there,” he says, pointing in the general vicinity of whatever’s to his left. you raise an eyebrow. he realizes he’s looking at the seafood aisle. ah. shit. “yeah.”

wonwoo could blame his grogginess for the stupid thing he’s just said, but he knows he’s far from groggy and that you can see through him better than you can see through glass. he just resigns himself to buying some of your favourite snacks so you can let him off the hook.

however, he is as curious as a cat and can’t let it slide when you’re done loading your groceries in the backseat.

“so, who was that?” he asks, starting up the car.

“i didn’t know you were okay with seafood,” you say. he doesn’t need to look at you to see you’re trying not to laugh.

“that doesn’t answer my question,” he huffs, looking into the rearview mirror. the lot is empty. he wonders if he can spot the guy around.

“that was chan,” you say simply, rolling down your window.

“chan?”

“mm. old friend from college.”

“how come i’ve never heard of him before?”

“because i haven’t met him in a long time.”

“so that’s why you were all…”

you turn to look at him. “all what?” there’s the beginnings of a grin on your face. a mischievous, i know what you’re thinking grin. he’s been caught, and he doesn’t like it. he refuses to answer.

the rest of the drive home is spent in silence, thankfully.

“oh, no,” you exclaim a bit sadly, when you finish putting away the last of the groceries. “we forgot the chocolate.”

wonwoo can’t hold back any longer. ignoring the surprised noise you let out when he lifts you up, he carries you to the kitchen counter and puts you down, hands on either side of your body trapping you in place.

“i think you’re forgetting something else,” he says, eye to eye with you. he loves the height difference you have, but he also loves it when he gets to see you flustered from this close.

“i’m…what?”

“mine,” he whispers, before he captures your lips in a kiss. your hands immediately find their way into his hair, pulling him closer with a tug.

“you’re mine,” he says again, pulling away to cup your face in his hands. “only i can make you laugh like that.”

you blink up at him. “you want me not to laugh every time someone else cracks a joke?”

wonwoo huffs. “there’s no way he was that funny.”

you let out a little giggle, the one he loves so much. “you’re being silly, baby,” you chide, taking one of his hands off your face and pressing a kiss to it. he’s the one who’s supposed to be doing that to you, but now it’s his heart that’s fluttering. “and besides, chan already knows about us. we reconnected a few weeks back, and he’s been wanting to meet you.”

wonwoo feels silly now. “i didn’t…know.”

“yeah. now imagine if he invites us out for dinner to that seafood place next week.”

wonwoo lets out a groan and leans down to put his forehead to yours. “i’m an idiot.”

“i know that.”

he glares at you. “i thought you loved me.”

“i do! besides, you know my niece is going to kill me if we ever break up, so we’re stuck together. forever. get it? forever?”

wonwoo pulls away to look at you, and he’s sure the lovesick gaze on your face matches the one on his. “i get it,” he says, sealing his promise to you by pressing another kiss to your lips. “and i’m yours, too.”

you smile at him. “want to go get that chocolate before we see her today?”

wonwoo’s already picking up his car keys before you finish your sentence. how could grocery runs ever be a punishment, when he gets to do them with you?

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae

[commsroom]

circumstances surrounding the “leaked” documents about eiffel’s sentencing in need to know, as i understand them:

one of the very first things kepler does is offer eiffel, minkowski, and lovelace a drink. in true “at any given moment, kepler has about eighteen ulterior motives” spirit, it is, among other things, “hospitality”, sure, a test for eiffel, definitely, but… i think the main reaction he was checking for was minkowski’s. will she look at eiffel, or react to his reaction? how much does she know? how much does he trust her?

in don’t poke the bear, jacobi and maxwell stop lovelace from breaking into kepler’s server by pretending to be in on it with her: “she’s very good. it might turn into a problem.” / “i’ll run it by kepler.” two episodes later, files from kepler’s very secure server are “leaked.”

(the words "need to know" are spoken offhandedly by eiffel in the episode itself, but it also calls back to the excuse maxwell gives lovelace: "colonel kepler practically lives by the words 'need to know.' and, apparently, nothing i can say will ever convince him that i 'need to know' everything that's in our databanks.")

need to know opens with minkowski finishing an eleven hour shift, and then finding out kepler moved that shift to, well. now. she’s already frustrated and sleep deprived.

minkowski complains to kepler. jacobi and maxwell, on cue, barge in and complain to kepler. kepler assigns minkowski, jacobi, maxwell, and lovelace to punishment detail, taking eiffel out of the group because “you’re the only one who hasn’t wasted my time with pointless whining.” lovelace says: “um, i don’t think that i did any complaining either, so…” but that doesn’t matter. it’s just an excuse to remove eiffel from the group; he could just as easily have been singled out for special punishment. either way, it was going to happen.

hilbert isn’t there. not the most significant factor, since he’s already been effectively sidelined by kepler, but remember he already knows about eiffel’s sentencing, doesn’t care (about eiffel’s history OR about anyone else’s personal drama), and will later respond to minkowski asking by telling her to grow up and get back to work. it simplifies things to not factor him in.

consider the files themselves: we know from happy holidays that maxwell not talking to her family is common knowledge, but jacobi reacts like it’s news. we know from hera’s performance review flashback in memoria that kepler and jacobi were aware of “multiple attempted crew member homicides” in her record. the file about hera’s bentham directory was on kepler’s server. if there’s one person who would’ve been briefed on everything there was to know about hera, it would’ve been maxwell; her shock is entirely feigned. in fact, almost every reaction from jacobi and maxwell here is feigned. they’re black ops specialists who arrived prepared with divide-and-conquer tactics. there’s no reason they wouldn’t know these things. also note that none of the “leaks” reveal anything about the mission they didn’t already know, and that nothing about the si-5 is incriminating - if anything, it’s mostly silly and even humanizing. and, yes, all of that contextualizes maxwell’s reaction to “skiing?!”

eiffel’s file comes through last, once they’re already worn out. kepler sends eiffel to check on them at the same time so that he’ll walk in. jacobi shows minkowski the file. he lurks around waiting to see how her not-confrontation with eiffel goes, and then cements the thought in her head: what about you? are you going to care?

it’s true that there are aspects of the mission only kepler knows, but as far as information on the hephaestus crew goes (barring one very particular detail about lovelace)? that’s part of the job they were chosen for. when they kill the plant monster, kepler says: “you think we didn’t know about that thing? please. we listened to every log that you beamed down to canaveral.” kepler’s entire foundation is shaken when jacobi turns on him because this is how they operate: “have one person take the blame, say the mean things. meanwhile, the poor, betrayed little guy gets a bit more leeway - just enough to sneak up and hit you from behind.” the show is not subtle about any of this. you can pick apart any early-s3 interaction between two hephaestus crew members and an si-5 agent and see the same divide-and-conquer tactics at play. jacobi and maxwell are always - in morals, loyalty, job description - closer to kepler than they are to the hephaestus crew, and to even sort of believe otherwise is falling for that facade. it’s worth remembering that the hephaestus crew are prisoners. some of them were aware of it from the start, and some of them were lied to, but none of them were meant to leave. the si-5, on the other hand, went up there with a unified goal, and the knowing intention they would be, among other things, prison guards.

[whatifitis]

♡ Good Luck Charlie - CL 16 ♡

Summary: Best friends since childhood. Feelings grow and confessions are told. It's her or nothing

Author's note: this was requested and i had so much fun writing this one <333

WC: 2k + some instagram posts

CW: fluff, confessions of feelings, happy ending, overuse of song references again

“Thank you so much! I love you all and I can’t wait to see you soon.” you shout into your microphone. You turn to exit the stage, but as you take your last few steps to leave the audience's sight, you twist your torso to look back at them and send them a cheeky little wink, served with a smirk, sending them into a flurry. 

Little do they know, you had already finished your next album, and that it would be released in just a few months. You were especially excited for this album. It was the one you were most proud of, and there was a song or two on it that you had written for someone special to you. 

As soon as you’re off stage, you’re running around like a loose hen. You’re taking off your in-ears and giving your microphone to a crew member, then rushing off to your makeshift changing room and taking off your costume before slipping into some sweats. 

You were on your way to Austin, Texas to celebrate the birthday of your best friend, Charlie. It has been a few years since you’ve been able to see him, both your schedules keeping you booked and bust, there just hasn’t been a good time. But his birthday is coming up, so you decided to surprise him and spend his birthday week with him. You also had a surprise or two for him, should things go right. 

Charles and yourself have been best friends since childhood, always spending so much time together as your families were close. Growing up, the two of you never really had any conflicts, besides the occasional argument over whose turn it was to play on the playstation. 

But over time, you’ve started to fall for him. Even though you rarely saw each other, you would always make time to text or call the other. And every year on your birthdays, you would facetime each other as you blew out the candles on your cakes. It became a cute little tradition the two of you started when you turned 17, Charles was off racing in some far off country while you stayed back to finish your studies. When you were about to blow out the candles on your cake, your phone rang. When you looked at the screen, Charles' name was listed at the top. During that call, Charles told you “I’ll still be there. Even if I have to watch you through a screen, I still want to share this special moment with you. I want to see the reflection of the candles lighting up your eyes. I want to sing happy birthday to you, just as if we were together in person. I wouldn’t miss it for the world and maybe I should really thank technology for allowing me to feel you close to me, even when you are miles away.”

You guess all those small things, little moments that the two of you shared, lead to where you stand now. On a plane to Austin, Texas to watch 20 cars drive in circles… and hopefully confess your feelings but who knows. 

-=+=-

y/n_l/n

Liked by charlesleclerc, lilymhe, and 567,765 others

y/n_l/n thank you all so much for the past 2 years. Your support and love for the album was absolutely insane, letting it stay at number 1 on the charts for 6 months straight is amazing and I couldn’t have done it without you. We sold out every show of the tour and had so much fun seeing you all. Thank you to the band and the crew who helped put the show together and make it work every night. I’m sad this era is over but we’re onto bigger and better things. I’ll see you all very soon 😉

View all comments

User23 um, ma’am, what do you mean you’ll see us soon 😀

User54 I WAS AT THE LAST SHOW AND I STILL CANT COMPREHEND SHIT 

lilymhe so proud of you girl! You put on such a show and work your ass off, i couldnt be more in love 

↳ alex_albon LILY?!

↳ lilymhe i said what i said 

↳ y/n_l/n SHE SAID WHAT SHE SAID

wiffygriffy amazing amazing amazing! Thank you so much for the opportunity of allowing me to open for you this tour and I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OMG! ↳ y/n_l/n OMG THANK YOU FOR JOINING ME YOU’RE SO TALENTED AND I CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU DO AMAZING THINGS I LOVE YOU GRIFFY

y/n_l/n posted a story

Replies: 

charlesleclerc mon amie, where are you off to?

↳ y/n_l/n no where 😁

↳ charlesleclerc do you ever sleep? 

↳ y/n_ln nope 😁

User33 ehm… where ya off to? 👀

pierregasly everything is going to plan 👍

↳ y/n_l/n thank you so much pierre, you’re a real one 🫶

-=+=-

You landed in Austin the morning of Charles' birthday and you knew he was going to be busy for a majority of the day with stuff for the upcoming race, so you were going to take that time to unwind and get ready for his birthday dinner tonight. 

Throughout the day, you receive updates from Pierre and Carlos. Charles had a bit of a tough morning due to a work meeting but since then, he’s calmed down and he’s smiling more. 

You spend most of the day sending out some emails before getting ready for Charles' birthday dinner. You had bought the most beautiful red dress that hugged your figure perfectly. You didn’t feel like doing much with your hair so you just blow dried it after your shower and gave yourself a bit of extra volume. Keeping the makeup lowkey, you slipped your shoes on and grabbed your bag before heading out the door, ready to surprise your best friend. 

-=+=-

y/n_l/n posted a story

Replies:

User99 omfg where did u get the dress

User76 the billie lyrics, i see you girl 😉

charlesleclerc where you heading? 

↳ charlesleclerc mon amie, ou est-tu?

↳ charlesleclerc why are you ignoring me? Did i do something wrong? 

Carlossainz55 pls hurry up, he’s starting to look depressing…

↳ y/n_l/n im 5 mins away! I’m sorry, he’s been asking where I am and I’ve not been replying 🤧

↳ carlossainz55 as long as you’re on the way, that’s all that matters. I know he’s going to love it 

Iamrebeccad gorgeous! Can’t wait to see you 🥰

↳ y/n_l/n thank you darling ♥️♥️♥️ see you soon 😉

-=+=-

Your uber is pulling up to the building where the party is being held so you shoot a text to Pierre, letting him know you were outside. Pierre told you he’d meet you outside and bring you in when Charles was distracted. 

As you get out of the car, Pierre is already there, holding his hand out to help you stand. The two of you hug and exchange kisses on the cheeks as Pierre compliments you, 

“You look amazing, y/n. Kika is very excited to see you and Charles is dying for a message from you. He’s been pouting all day cause you won’t text him back.”

“Oh dear,” you wince, “Hopefully he hasn’t been too bad? I just didn’t want to give away that I’m here.”

“He’ll be alright.” Pierre reassures you. 

The two of you walk side by side to the room where Charles is, Pierre telling you to stand right outside the door to make sure Charles would see you when you walked in. You overhear as Pierre tries to get Charles' attention, “Charles, we’ve got a big surprise for you.”

“Quoi? Please don’t be something outrageous, I told you I wanted a simple dinner.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It’ll be worth it.”

You listen as feet shuffle and chairs are scrapped against the wooden floors. 

“Come on in.” Pierre shouts, then all that can be heard are the clicks of your heels on the floors. Slow and hesitant, afraid of how Charles will react. You hope he’ll be happy, and that this is something he wants. 

As soon as you lock eyes with Charles, he’s running across the room to you, running into a chair and table, almost knocking them down in his trek to you. In the blink of an eye, you’re wrapped in his arms, breathing in his cologne that you know all too well. Quickly, you wrap your arms around him, holding him close and whispering in his ear, “Happy Birthday, Charlie”. 

He doesn’t say anything for a good moment, just holding you in his arms, as if he’s afraid of letting go. Afraid that this would turn into a nightmare where he would lose you. He breathes you in, smiling as he recognizes your perfume. The perfume being the one you wore when he won his first GP in F1, remembering it because it was his favorite smell on you. 

If it weren’t for the crowd watching the two of you, Charles would’ve held onto you for much longer. If he could say half the things he wanted to, he’d have you. He had been holding back this feeling and he wanted to say some things to you. Maybe today he would. 

The two of you let go of the other, Charles blushing as he realized everyone had been staring and wanted to ask questions. But it was his birthday so they restrained themselves. 

“So, let's get this party started.” Pierre announced, clapping his hands to get everyone’s attention. Charles shoots a look at Pierre to thank the man for reverting the attention elsewhere. When everyone went back to the celebrations, Charles turned his attention back to you to ask, “How are you here? You were just in Tokyo yesterday.”.

“I finished the show and immediately flew here so I could surprise you. It’s been too long.” you beamed at him. He was truly grateful to have you here. 

“How long are you here for?” Charles asks, leading you outside to the patio so the two of you can have a private conversation. 

“I’m free for the next month. After that I have to get back to work and promote stuff.”

“Ah! So you’ll make it to a race or two?” he asks hopefully. 

“Yes, I’m definitely going to COTA and Mexico but I’m not sure about Brazil yet.”

“I’m glad. I’ve missed you, mon ange.” 

“I’ve missed you too, Charlie.”, you say, holding his hand in yours, “I have a gift for you by the way.”

Charles' disappointment was written all over his face when you removed your hand from his, so that you could open something on your phone. “Quoi?” Charles asks, intrigued now that he sees you messing with your phone. 

You turn your phone screen to him and his jaw drops. Firstly because he was looking at the design for your next album, he swore he’d never seen something so beautiful. The cover was a photo of you, bathed in golden sunlight, letting your natural curls fall down your back. Your curls weren’t something you often wore, as they were too high maintenance and you liked other hairstyles on yourself better. 

“The ring,” Charles mentions, squinting and zooming in on the photo, “Is that?-” 

“It’s the one you got me.” you smile. Truth be told, this entire was practically for him. Sure there were some songs that aren’t about him, but he was your main muse for it. 

“Wow, this is beautiful. I can’t wait to hear the songs. I get to hear them first, right?” he asks, shooting a cheeky grin your way. 

“Obviously, you’re always the first to listen to my songs. But this one, you get to listen to know. It’s part of your surprise.” you say, taking your phone back for a second to swipe on the screen, revealing the tracklist. 

You watch Charles’ eyes roam the screen, reading every track name until he comes across the last one. 

“Non,” he looks up at you, “Is- Is it for me? The last one. It’s got my name.”

“Oui, mon ami. Actually, a few of the tracks are for you or about you.” you confess, afraid of how he may react. He hasn’t even listened to the songs yet. What if he hates them? What if he thinks they're weird. This could ruin your entire relationship with Charles. 

But he’s smiling a lot. 

“Can I listen to them? Now?” he asks, excitement dancing though his body. 

“The whole album or just your songs?” 

“The whole album. I want to get the whole experience.” he says, moving his body rhythmically to really emphasize how serious he is. 

“Charlie, there’s a party in there for you. Everyone is here to see you. You can listen to it later. Go party for now.” you try to encourage him, not wanting to steal him away from everyone. 

“Non,” he says, stomping his foot on the ground as if he’s physically standing on business, “I want to listen to it now. Let everyone inside mingle and talk about how great I am. I wanna be out here with you.” 

You could feel your face heat up, painting your cheeks red. 

“Non, Charlie. I can’t let you stay out here for that long. But I think one song should be okay.” you smile at him, anxious for his reaction. 

“I can work with that. But you have to let me listen to the rest tonight after the party.” he points a finger at you. 

You just shake your head and laugh, pulling up the file for ‘Good Luck Charlie’. This song was written about the childhood you two shared, the days when you two were young and innocent and naive. Now everything has changed. 

You play the song, allowing Charles to listen as you watch his reaction. 

His reactions were quite anxiety inducing. He didn’t express a single emotion the whole time, simply staring out in front of him and just listening. The song ends and he still doesn’t say anything. 

“So, what do you think?” you ask timidly. 

His voice shakes when he answers, “That was beautiful. I can’t believe I get to have a song so amazing for me.” he looks at you, tears threatening to spill from his eyes. 

“Thank you. It’s something I had been wanting to do for a while and I thought now would be a good time. The album will be coming out in a few months then I’ll be touring again. And I’m really excited this time around cause I get to sing this song live, finally. And I’m hoping you’ll make it to a show or two so I can serenade you like the good friend I am.” you laugh.

Friend. 

“Why do you look sad, Charlie?” you ask.

It’s now or never, Charles thought. He either tells you his feelings for you right now, or he keeps them hiding away. He didn’t want to just be your friend, he wanted to kiss your neck and tell you everything he thinks and feels. He wants to share more moments with you. 

“I, um…” he breathes in, trying to gain composure, “I have something I need to tell you.”

“Okay, what’s going on?” concern lacing your face. 

“I love you, y/n. Like, I’m in love with you. When I look at you, I see this light that only you have. Your laugh is the best sound I’ve ever heard. Every time you smile, I smile. You’re everything I’ve ever wanted and I can’t bear to be away from you for more than a year anymore. I don’t ever want to go months or weeks or even days without you. Say you want to be with me too. S’il te plait, mon coeur.”

He’s holding both of your hands in his now, holding on tight and begging you to say yes. 

“Charlie, thank fuck.” you laugh, “I wanted to tell you I’m in love with you. You’ve ruined my surprise.” 

“Wait, really?” He laughs now too. 

The two of you can’t hold back your laughs now, finding it insane that you shared the same plans of confessing to each other today. Not only that, but that you had waited so long to tell each other. How much time was wasted out of fear?

After catching your breaths, Charles comes back to bring his hand to hold the side of your face, using his other hand to wrap around your waist, pulling you close to him. You wrap your arms around him, watching him and admiring the freckles on his face. Many people don’t see them, but if you look close enough, it’s easy to spot them, especially in the sun. 

“Can I kiss you now?” Charles asks, rubbing his thumb against your cheek softly. 

“Yeah, you can.”

In the twinkling of an eye, Charles connects his lips with yours in a gentle kiss. His lips feel soft and warm, like caramel on a summer day. He takes his time with it, not feeling the need to rush. You two stay like that for some time, not wanting to part just yet, but you do. 

Charles doesn’t pull far away from you, just enough so you can breathe again. He’s frowning again, leading you once again to ask what was wrong. 

“I don’t want you to leave again. We both have such crazy schedules and I can’t do this without you anymore.”

“Well, we don’t have to worry about that, gorgeous.”

“Quoi?” 

“So, about my next tour…. The tour dates and locations align with the F1 calendar for next year. So we’ll be okay.”

He’s practically beaming with joy when you say this. 

“Really? We’ll get to be together?”

“Oui, mon ange. Nothing's gonna keep us apart now.”

“Be my girlfriend.” He just spits out.

“Charlie, what?”

“Be my girlfriend? Please?” 

“Not even 2 minutes after our first kiss and you’re already skipping steps. Can’t believe it.” You joke.

“Okay, well. I think we’re allowed to skip a few. Plus, I want to take you on a proper date tonight. After the party we can go to the park and get some ice cream? I can properly ask you to be my girlfriend then.” “There’s nowhere I’d rather be.”

-=+=-

y/n_l/n

Liked by charlesleclerc, pierregasly, 893,473 others

y/n_l/n so excited to announce my brand new album ‘will you fall?’ will be out on 11/15!

I’m so proud of this album and it is by far my favorite I’ve ever made. Thank you to my producer and to the band for helping make this album what it is. Also thank you to the fans who allow me to continue doing this for a living and allowing me to enjoy every second of this.

Lastly, I would like to thank my main muse for this album. This is about you, you know who you are, I love you. 

Tour dates announced soon!

View all comments

charlesleclerc so excited for the new album. Totally haven’t heard any of it yet 😋

↳ user98 dont be shy, share with the class 🥰

↳ charlesleclerc no ♥️

francisca.cgomes amazing work! Can’t wait to blast this 24/7 😘 love you, beautiful

↳ y/n_l/n i love you so much! PLEASE MARRY ME

↳ francisca.cgomes yes!! A thousand times yes. Tell me where and when and i’ll be there 🫡

↳ pierregasly eh, non. y/n please stop stealing my wife

↳ y/n_l/n no ♥️

↳ user32 pls y/n and charles always speak the same, you can tell they’re besties

↳ carlossainz55 or more… 👀

↳ user56 WHAT

↳ y/n_l/n WHAT

↳ charlesleclerc WHAT

↳ landonorris WHAT

↳ user09 lando?! ↳ landonorris hi, i wanted to feel included 😁

[cherryblossompink303]

Patience: ~The twins fight!~

➼ pairing: Kyoya Ootori x Reader ➼ summary: The twins get bored and decide to play around with the two girls of the host club and chaos breaks loose. ➼ what to expect: "I'd look out , for a moment there it sounded like you care" ➼ warnings: none ➼ Part Four | Part Six

"Let's Play the 'which one is Hikaru?' game" The twins chime out, introducing the game that they have played with the clients ever since the host club started.

"So? Can you tell which one of us is Hikaru?” the twins tease in unison.

“Well, it’s hard to say!”

“You’re identical!” The guests gush over the twins in awe.

“Many ladies have tried to tell us apart, but so far none have succeeded.” they wag their fingers in a demeaning fashion.

"That's the dumbest game i've ever heard" Haruhi comments, sat with you having coffee. "They've always done this, it is silly but the girls seem to like it" you shrug.

"You just don't like it because you never guess right y/n" Hikaru appears out of seemingly nowhere as if they heard you from across the room. "No, I never guess because you lie, statistically someone should guess right 50% of the time and yet they never do, I wonder why that is" You taunt, Kyoya chuckles from a nearby table.

The twins gasp dramatically in offence "We would never lie!" the two of them exclaim in unison. "You're jealous because we are so popular" Kaoru accuses, sticking a finger in your face "I'm not even a host, why would I be jealous?"

"Apparently you don’t understand the merits of having a pair of twins as members of the Host Club.”

"Other than you driving Tamaki up the wall?" you tease, knowing what they meant, your the host club's manager you've seen the numbers of it all, next to Tamaki the twins were extremely popular, although you never fully understood the appeal.

“Listen up! Having a couple of good-looking guys with homosexual tendencies earns the club high points. It also helps if the two struggle between their attraction and their friendship.”

You nod, trying to turn away and out of this conversation but they follow your gaze. "And in our case, because we’re twins, our relationship is taboo, and therefore more intriguing.” you grimace, you never try to put too much thought in Hikaru and Kaoru's relationship for the sake of your job, so saying it directly wasn't fun to hear.

The twins appear surrounding a guest. Hikaru tilts her chin his way, whispering into her ear.

“And besides, who hasn’t fantasized about twins? Having two lovers is better than one, don’t you think?”

Kaoru replaces Hikaru’s hand with his own, directing the guest his way, “It’s a young woman’s romantic fantasy.”

The guest stammers, “Well, I- um… yeah, you’re right! I can’t take it!” other guests join in on her squealing. "So you see y/n-"

"Don't, I get the picture, just get back to work"

"Hikaru! Kaoru!” Tamaki appears screaming

The twins mirror each other, hands perched on their hips, “Hm?”

Enraged, Tamaki continues, “When I have control of the club’s website, I did so on one condition! That you take it seriously!” Tamaki shrieks in mortification.

“We take our job very seriously, Boss,” Hikaru assures.

Kaoru waves his hands eccentrically, “In fact, last night we worked on it till dawn.”

Tamaki opens his laptop aggressively, “Is THIS what you worked so hard to create?!” He smacks the keyboard, showing images of Haruhi and You pop up.

"What the..."

Haruhi had been photoshopped- Suprisingly well- to make her appear shirtless, although it was obvious that it was fake since obviously Haruhi does not have the chest of a guy. Meanwhile the twins had edited pictures of you to show more collarbone, one photo being taken from behind had you with a completely exposed back.

"Hm, I didn’t notice that change in the website.”

You nearly jump out of your skin at the voice adjacent to you. None other than Kyoya stands emotionless beside you, observing the picture on the monitor.

“Please don’t tell me you were involved in this.” You plead, knowing that if anyone were to supply the photos used to create these it would be Kyoya. "No, but they are doing remarkably well"

It takes all the strength within you not to hit Kyoya up the back of his head. "Why did you even do this! I'm not even a host, not to mention the fact that the host club has an all female demographic!" You cry, voice increasingly getting higher.

You were going to lose your mind, you know the body in the photos wasn't yours but you were uncomfortable showing a lot of skin regardless, even if it wasn't technically your skin.

“You look great, y/n-Chan!” Honey exclaims from behind you. You make a quick movement and cover his eyes with your hand, much to his confusion.

“Oh! We never see much of y/n! I wanna see!”

“That’s why.” Kyoya points with his pen to the girls fawning over the revealing photo of you.

“Plus, I’m sure our male hosts don’t mind taking a glance at it from time to time.” he shrugs. Oh you were going to kill him.

“You-!”

Tamaki snatches the laptop from you and hands it to the awaiting girls. You exclaim in protest and reach for it, but it’s too late.

“Tell me when!”

“Huh?” the twins tilt their heads.

“When did you take naked pictures of y/n and Hruhi?!”

“Oh, dear god.” You shove your face into your hands and resist the urge to scream.

“You bribed her, didn’t you!” Tamaki starts to cry, grabbing at his hair anxiously.

“You’re imagining things.”

“It’s obvious that the photo’s been altered.”

“It was photoshopped?” Tamaki whimpers, facing the twins with dread.

"Trust me Tamaki I knew nothing about this"

“We did a pretty good job, huh?” Hikaru slides next to Tamaki with Kaoru, shrugging identically.

“We’ve got some major photoshopping talent.” Kaoru brags unabashedly.

“You idiots! That’s a waste of your skills! Have you no shame?!”

Tamaki’s attitude takes a swerve, now kneeling before the twins, pleading, “But if you’re going to do it anyway, can you photoshop Haruhi into this idol photo book?” He presents the twins with the photo book excitedly.

This time, it’s Haruhi’s face that pales, becoming white-faced. You can’t help but laugh.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Boss, why don’t you just-”

“-ask her if she’d wear an outfit like one of those.” the twins suggest, much to Haruhi’s dismay.

Tamaki glances at Haruhi with hopeful eyes, “I never thought to ask her…” he tip-toes behind her and presents her with a pink, frilly dress.

“What do you think about this, my dear?”

“What are you doing with that dress?” Honey tilts his head.

“I would have to agree with Tamaki; I’d love to see what Haruhi looked like if he dressed as a girl!” A guest abandons the laptop to pay attention to Haruhi and Tamaki’s interaction.

“Oh, he’s so cute! I’m sure he’d look great no matter what you put him in.”

Haruhi sighs in exasperation, turning to look at Tamaki with a half-assed glare. Tamaki bursts into tears and drifts away.

You snatch the laptop while it’s unattended and slam it shut, irked. "Okay that's enough, no more creepy photoshops of me and Haruhi you perverts, what do you take us for anyway?"

The twins share an identical smirk with a hum, “Isn’t that obvious? You’re our toys.”

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As we were saying, in order to entertain one’s self in this otherwise boring life-”

“One must find himself stimulating toys.”

You and Haruhi groan in unison “we are not your toys, okay?” The twins shrug with mischievous chuckles.

Suddenly, a door appears behind the three of you, revealing someone cloaked in darkness and peeking out from behind them.

“You want a toy?”

The voice calls your attention as well as the twins’, the three of you glancing over with a chorused confused, “Huh?”

“Toys, toys, if you like toys, then you should come and visit my black magic club.” the figure with a deep voice holds a candelabra.

The pieces fit together in your brain, and you realize the intimidating figure only to be Nekozawa-Senpai. You sigh heavily.

“We’ve opened a marketplace that boasts black magic items from across the globe. We’re also holding mass around the clock.”

Neko’s voice pricks the hairs standing straight on the back of Tamaki’s neck, drawing his attention and fear over to him.

“If you visit right now, I’ll even throw in a free curse doll. You can have Beelzenef as your free gift.”

You snort at the mere name of the doll. The twins struggle to hold in their laughter as well.

“Why is he talking to us through a crack in the door?” Haruhi asks from beside you.

“Wait a second, has that door always been there-?”

Kyoya meanders to the four of you with his infamous folder, “Nekozawa-Senpai likes to hide, he doesn’t really care for brightly lit places.” he clarifies at Haruhi’s question.

You raise your hand childishly, “I still have a question about the door-”

Tamaki stalks up behind Haruhi and speaks abruptly, “Don’t get involved with that guy, Haruhi.”

Haruhi leaps into the air with a yelp at his sudden appearance.

Tamaki isn’t phased in the least, “If you do, you’ll end up being cursed!”

“Do you have any basis for that?” you can’t help but snicker at Tamaki’s attitude toward the clearly harmless elder student.

Dramatically, “Yes! And you should know that! It happened during final exams at the end of the last school year! It’s terrifying just to talk about it.”

“On that fateful day, I accidentally stepped on that weirdo Nekozawa’s cursed doll, Beelzenef. Afterward, I took my exam and the entire test was written in some strange lettering! I looked to the others around me for help and realized I knew none of them! I was all alone in a different dimension!”

Honey cries in the backdrop, “Scary!”

“Did that really happen to you?!” Haruhi gasps.

Kyoya clarifies, “That only happened because you were so scared you accidentally walked into the beginning Greek class and took their exam.” he rolls his eyes.

“No, it was a curse! I know because three days later, I woke up and my legs were as heavy as lead! Just how do you explain that?!” Tamaki challenges.

"your legs were heavy because you ran a marathon the day before, remember?” you point out

Nekozawa appears near you, Kyoya, and Tamaki with a warning, “You shouldn’t underestimate the dark powers of Beelzenef the curse doll! All you have to do is write the name of someone you hate on his back. Then that person is certain to come face to face with misfortune!”

Wow, this guy is dark in more ways than one,” Hikaru observes as Tamaki shakes in fright.

“Supposedly, he hates bright lights,” Kaoru glances at his twin with a glint in his eye, “I wonder what he’ll think of this?” He brings a flashlight out from behind his back, flicking it on and off.

The light shines brightly onto Nekozawa, and incidentally, Tamaki, startling them both.

“You murderers!” Nekozawa shrieks as he dashes back to the safe darkness of his club room, slamming the door behind him.

Tamaki lets out a harrowing shriek, “How on earth could you do such a thing?! Obviously the two of you don’t know the true terror of black magic!” he attempts to scold the twins as they wander off.

They throw themselves into chairs alongside each other boredly.

“Ugh, I am so bored.”

“Isn’t there anything fun we can do around here?”

Being ignored is one of Tamaki’s worst nightmares. So he confines himself to his sulking corner and crouches in shame, “My dignity as the club’s leader is being ignored.”

“It sure is.” you tsk as you shake your head at the twins’ behavior.

“Hey, y/n, we’ve got a favor to ask you.” Both Hikaru and Kaoru raise their hands in unison, gaining your attention. “What is it?”

“The next time we get a day off,”

“Can we come over to your place and hang out?”

You tense up at the question "Why would you do that?" in the two years you had been living in Japan you never really had the club members round to your place, while they all lived in mansions you lived in a small apartment not far from the school.

“We’re curious! We wanna see where you live.”

Without hesitation, you have an answer, “No way.” Your response is immediate.

“Aw, pretty please?” they plead annoyingly. "You never let us come round" Kaoru spoke up.

"I’ve been curious as well; I don’t think any of us have been to your house before.” As per usual, Kyoya appears beside you

“No way in hell, Kyoya,” you deadpan. The crease between Kyoya’s brows becomes more prominent at your response. "Besides, it was your family who set me up with my place, I honestly thought you knew where I live"

Kyoya shrugged "I know your address but I haven't seen it in person, I don't go that far in depth in my research"

“We can settle this with a game!” The twins adorn their green caps.

“If you can’t pick out which one of us is Hikaru, then your penalty will be the two of us coming over to your house later tonight.” They shuffle themselves back and forth, spinning.

“Okay! So which one of us is Hikaru?”

Relief floods your system that the game is so simple- they’ll never have to come over. You point confidently, “This one’s Kaoru, this one’s Hikaru.”

The twins prance in accomplishment, “Uh oh! You got it wrong!” They grin.

You raise an eyebrow that they were still choosing to lie even to you “No, I know I’m right. You guys may look alike, but you’re very different.” you clarify.

The twins let out a mildly frightened laugh, trying to keep their composure.

"How did you do that, y/n? Whenever they wear those hats to cover up which way they part their hair, it’s practically impossible to try and figure out which twin is Hikaru and which one is Kaoru!” a guest catches your attention.

“How can you tell them apart?” Another asks.

"I have to spend every day around them for one, you slowly start to pick up on little things, Hikaru is more impulsive than kaoru while kaoru is more mischevious with his plots"

Kaoru snorts and covers his mouth with his hand, “Sorry, Hikaru, I don’t mean to laugh.” But as he says it, his light chuckle transforms into full-blown laughter.

“Well, I don’t see what’s so funny. I’m honest, I speak my mind, and I don’t hold back.” Hikaru closes his eyes and holds his head high.

“It’s sneaky people like Kaoru who are the troublemakers.”

Kaoru’s eyes open wide and the laughter stops. He rises from his hunched position and glares at Kaoru, suddenly serious.

“Don’t turn this on me, Hikaru. After all, I’m the one who’s always going along with all of your selfish games.”

“I may suggest them, but you’re the one who really gets into them, Kaoru. If you hate it so much, then why don’t you just stop?”

“Because I’d hate to see you make an ass of yourself in front of everyone. It was your idea to call y/n our toy, but I noticed you were quick to make a pass at her,”

You slowly try to creep away from the twins, no longer wanting to be apart of whatever is going on, accidentally backing into Kyoya, who grasps your shoulders to stabilise you. "Are you alright?"

“What’s going on?” your voice is unsteady. He follows your finger and shrugs. “I’m not sure.”

“Admit it, Hikaru, you’re actually in love with y/n, aren’t you?”

You're eyes widen in pure shock, in the years that you had known the twins neither had expressed any romantic interest in you, or at least none that you had noticed. Kyoya's grip on your shoulders tighten a little.

“You’ve got it all wrong, Kaoru! Man, you’re such a freaking idiot!”

“Why would I fall for her? I mean, she looks like a tanuki.” Hikaru reasons.

“Wow, thank you so much Hikaru, appreciate it" you mutter.

“Awesome. This is just perfect!”

Something powerful shakes the ground and rises from the floor.

The motor carries Renge, much to your dismay.

“Our beloved y/n is in the middle of a beautiful yet poignant four-sided romantic relationship!”

“Four-sided-?” You glance around cluelessly.

“And to make it even more exciting, two of y/n’s admirers are twins, torn apart by love! Just the thought of it could make me eat three bowls of rice!”

“Oh butt out, Otaku.” The twins groan. You speak up, “Actually, this is the first time she’s acknowledging my existence so-”

“You guys are meanies, you shouldn’t say something like that to your manager!” Renge cries.

“Never mind.” you pout.

“I’m confused, I thought that you had decided to go back home to France, Renge.” Haruhi points out.

“Well, I was going to start up a host club of my own, but I don’t think France is ready for a host club just yet.” Renge explains.

“Cut it out, already!” The exclamation draws everyone’s attention back to the twins.

“You’re the one who’s always crawling into my bed! Talk about annoying!” Hikaru huffs angrily.

“I only do that cause you look lonely! I wouldn’t choose to sleep in your bed, you idiot!”

Somehow, the twins’ guests find their bickering to be dote-worthy.

“Who are you calling an idiot, you’re the one who sucks at math?” Hikaru fires back with rage.

“Oh yeah? Well, you’re failing your foreign language class, you big dummy!”

“The way you grind your teeth is deafening!”

“At least I don’t toss and turn so much that I fall out of bed!”

“Sex Pixie!”

“Sicko!”

“YOUR MAMA WEARS TOO MUCH MAKEUP!”

“That’s it! We’re over!”

Silence falls over the host club, you look up to see kyoya's equally shocked face.

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By the time you had reached lunch the next day everyone was getting sick of the twins fighting. Haruhi had told you that the twins had showed up to class with dyed hair and nearly tore the classroom apart.

As you along with the rest of the host club entered the refractory the twins were still arguing, this time over what they were ordering for lunch

“I was wondering what all the fuss was about. I can’t believe the two of you are still fighting, you’re a disgrace to the host club.” Tamaki says as you all enter.

“Hey, look who it is.”

“Oh, I love them…”

“I’ve never seen them all together like this…”

"We've had enough of this! You're both to blame for this!" Honey demands.

You turn to Kyoya "I'm surprised you joined us Kyoya, you never normally eat here" you point out, Kyoya still scribbling in his notebook. "Yes well given the circumstances I figured that it would be best that I come and keep an eye on things lest they start chucking things around the room again. I don't want someone to get hurt"

"Someone?" You ask, sending him a pointed look, kyoya glares at you over the rim of his glasses "Don't want to see you needing a doctor, we both know how that would go" he smirks.

You laugh "I'd look out Kyoya, for a moment there it sounded like you care about me" you faux horror. He tutted through a smile "Well we can't have that can we?"

“I don’t care if my boxed lunch is in an embarrassing heart shape! I will eat it!” Tamaki’s shout echoes in the expansive dining hal, leaving the two of you to stare at him in confusioon.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, but it’s evident that your fantasies are completely incoherent.” Kyoya departs, carrying his meal on a tray.

“y/n, you wanna sit here with me?” Hikaru pulls out a seat next to him and gestures to it, suddenly calm, separate from Kaoru.

“Uh, okay.” You approach sceptically, sitting down next to him.

“So what’s that?” He points to your little container you’ve brought with you, “What’d you bring for lunch?”

“Just some food I made before school" you shrug.

“You wanna switch with me? I had to order something different than Kaoru, so I ended up with stuff I don’t really like.” He pushes his tray in your direction and swipes up your container.

“That’s fine with me.” You shrug, taking a fork and poking at the food on your new spread. You begin to chew on a bite, humming with satisfaction and chewing thoroughly.

Kaoru pulls out a chair on the other side of you, “So, y/n, is that any good? How would you like to taste mine? Here.”

He slides his fingers under your chin and aims a spoon toward your mouth, tilting your chin upwards. Your face flushes at the proximity.

Hikaru leans forward and eats what’s on Kaoru’s soon, “Quit butting in, get lost, Kaoru.” He deadpans. You squeak and jerk away, separating yourself from the twins glaring at each other.

Kaoru hesitates before chucking a bowl of soup in Hikaru’s direction.

Although it looks like Hikaru has received the blow, he pulls on Tamaki’s tie to reveal that he shielded himself with his own boss. He smirks.

Before you know it, you’re caught in another crossfire between them. Chairs, plates, food, and even Honey is thrown between them.

You slip away and somehow yet again ended up sat by Kyoya yet again “Weren’t you enjoying yourself over there? I'm sure the twins are excellent company”

“Very funny.” Your eyes roll exaggeratedly, opening up your food. "Why have you brought your own lunch? I understand why Haruhi requires a boxed lunch but you and I both know you are in a vastly different situation to her"

"I don't know I just... I've felt weirdly homesick this week, I figured making some food from where I am from would help" you shrug, Kyoya hums back in understanding "Could I...try some?" He asked, slightly sheepishly which was a rare look for him.

You nod, smiling back as you slide over the box for him to stick his fork in, patiently awaiting as he took a taste. His face lights up in a mix of surprise and delight "This is really good"

"You think? I don't think myself to be that much of a chef" you shrug, sliding the box back to take a taste for yourself "You made this?" you smile back at him nodding "yeah"

Kyoya hums, staring back at you with a look that you couldn't quite place. "You should tell me about your home country more often" he lightly commented, returning to his own food. You stared back at him in mild shock, "Yeah"

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"Looking at the numbers, if this situation isn’t resolved, I’m afraid we’re going to have to stop offering our brotherly love package. We’re down one pair of loving brothers.” Kyoya grumbles, sitting directly across from you.

“Oh, y/n, I just want you to know there’s no reason for you to feel responsible. Even though it was your tactless comment that started this whole feud between the twins in the first place, right?”

Your shoot him a dead pan glare. Clearly he did blame you despite the fact that the twins kind of started the fight themselves.

Honey fidgets solemnly with Usa-Chan in his lap, “It’s weird for Hika-Chan and Kao-Chan to be fighting like this. It’s never happened before.” a frown etched upon his face. Mori nods with a bleak hum.

“They’ve never fought before?” Haruhi chimes in from beside you. You nod grimly.

“I’ve known Hika-Chan and Kao-Chan since we were pre-school. We weren’t in the same year, so I never really got to talk to them, but I remember that the two of them always played together.” Honey recalls.

“Yeah, that’s true. I mean, I’ve only known the twins since they were in middle school but they definitely stood out. It seemed like… they kept everyone at a distance except each other to protect themselves. I mean, they were even more isolated back then, I couldn’t even imagine how they’ve turned out now when I knew them at first.” Tamaki chimed in.

“Maybe this fight is a good thing for them.” He extends his arms to emphasize his next point, “Maybe it means that the twins are expanding their horizons a bit. We should just leave them alone and let them work it out.”

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You quickly realise that leaving them alone to work it out wasn't quite going to cut it. By the time the next day rolled around you all realised that you could not open the host club that day as the twins were yet again hurling things at eachother.

“Don’t you guys think that maybe, it’s time you give up all this fighting? It’s driving me insane!” Tamaki cries, looking like he is one more argument away from having a breakdown

“What’d you say? It’s driving you insane? You’ve got to be kidding me- how do you think I feel right now?! Every time I look in the mirror, I see his face! I’m sick and tired of constantly being mistaken for you, Kaoru! The truth is, I hate your guts!” Hikaru yells across the room.

“You took the words right out of my mouth. In fact, I hate you so much, I bought this! Belzenef, the curse doll!” Hikaru produces the wooden cat doll from his blazer. Tamaki shrieks.

“I’m going to complete the curse, Hikaru. I’m going to write your name on his back.” Kaoru pulls a marker from thin air threateningly, Hikaru growls.

Rage and frustration filled you, this was too far, it was all getting out of hand.

“From this day forward, you’re going to experience nothing but misfortune and sorrow!” The marker squeaks as Kaoru scribbles onto the back of the doll.

Tamaki screeches in horror, his palms cupping both his cheeks.

You march up to him, snatching the doll from him and throwing it to the ground. "Are you insane!?" Kaoru stares back at you in shock. "You don’t bring something like this into a petty fight! Both of you are at fault here, but what’s really sad is that you’ve brought everyone else around you into your big mess!”

At this point you are staring down at the two of them like a mother scolding two small children, “Now apologize to each other! If you don’t make up right now, I’m never gonna let you come over to my house, have I made myself clear?!”

You hadn't even registered the words before they left your mouth, pausing as you processed what you actually had just said. The twins stare up at you in shock and horror, however that does not last long as the corners of their lips twist upwards into a smirk.

“So then what you’re saying, y/n, that if we make up, we can come over to your place?” They circle you with hands perched on their hips.

Vertigo overtook you as you realised exactly what had just happened, looking down to find that all that Kaoru had wrote on the curse doll was 'blank'

“I’m so sorry, Kaoru. Even though I was just following our script, I said such awful things to you. I’m not fit to be your brother.” Hikaru caresses Kaoru by the cheek gently.

Kaoru reaches up and takes Hikaru’s face in his hands, “Don’t say that, Hikaru! I was worried. I couldn’t live with myself if I ever thought I had hurt you.”

“Kaoru, I’ll never let you go again!”

“Hikaru!”

You remain stood there, stunned at what was happening before you.

As the twins embrace, Honey flails his arms with squinted eyes, “You’ve gotta be kidding! You mean you guys were faking it this whole time?!” He screams.

You and Tamaki have fallen to your knees in defeat. Your fist tries its hardest to clench the ground, your head hanging between your shoulders.

“We didn’t have anything else to do, we were bored.”

Tamaki weakly lifts his head to observe them, “Twins with too much time on their hands…”

Hikaru and Kaoru both stick out their tongue at him, pulling a single eyelid down in a mocking way.

“…are the devil.”

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“I’m so glad they made up!” guests squeal in admiration.

With pink and blue hair, the twins encourage them, “Okay, it’s time to play the "which one is Hikaru” game!“ They smile widely.

A guest pipes up, "I know! The twin with the pink hair is Hikaru!” She announces proudly.

“We have a winner!” The twins have found that letting their guests win is also as much fun as watching them get them mixed up.

“So are you two going to keep your wild hair color even though you’ve made up? It’s much easier to tell the two of you apart now.”

Haruhi glances up as she strides past them, cocking an eyebrow as she observes their hair colour. They are not the same as they were yesterday.

“Huh, no, it isn’t.” she almost laughs as she stroll past, anticipating their reaction. They each hum boredly, watching her go. “Today, the pink one is Kaoru and Hikaru’s the blue one. You switched overnight huh?"

You hum in approval from nearby "You're finally catching on Haruhi" you congratulate her at being the second person to correctly tell the twins apart.

The twins freeze, staring at the two of you blankly as they realised that you both could truly tell which one was Hikaru.

"I think you broke them" Kyoya pointed out, glancing up from his notebook. You hum in agreement "Yes I think so" he smirks, placing the book down "I must admit it was quite interesting to see you lay into the twins like that, I've never seen you that angry before"

You shrug "I don't even know where it came from really, I guess something came over me" Kyoya pauses, smile slowly fading into a smirk "I'd look out , for a moment there it sounded like you care"

You laugh.

Maybe you did.

Next time on patience 'The Gradeshool host is the naughty type!'

Tag list (reply to be added): @skottch @cgmajor @rebirthbunbun

[togrowoldinv]

It Is Well

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

You’re the choir director at Wanda’s church. One afternoon after church, your relationship with her changes

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Reader has a penis but no pronouns are used, kissing, cursing, sex in a church oops, oral (W receiving), blowjob, Wanda being a milf

Note: I have no explanation, just love for milf Wanda. Enjoy!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

There are a lot of reasons that you love your new job. One is that you get to live out your passion for singing and help others in the process. The second reason is that it pays well. The church was desperate for a new choir director, so they were willing to pay you pretty much whatever you wanted.

But the reason that you love your job the most is that you’ve met Wanda Maximoff.

Wanda is your favorite choir member by far. She is always punctual, she sings beautifully, and she flirts with you.

At least, you think she’s flirting with you. She is always making an excuse to touch your arm as she walks by you, or she’ll stay late to help you work on arrangements.

“Hey there!” Wanda says as she enters the choir suite today.

“Wanda, how are you?” You ask.

“I’m doing mighty fine. And you?”

“Honestly, I could use some help,” you admit.

Wanda nods seriously and sets her purse down. She sits next to you at the piano. You try not to notice how good she looks in her button up shirt.

“How can I help, darlin’?” She asks.

“I’m trying to make this transition sound right, but I just can’t.”

“Play it for me,” Wanda says.

You begin to play the song and Wanda sings along quietly. Her voice floats through the room like a sweet songbird. When you get to the transition, you stop. It still hasn’t come to you.

Wanda touches your hand and places your fingers on a few different keys than the ones you’ve been trying.

“It is well,” she begins singing. She nods for you to continue playing. “It is well with my soul.”

It’s the perfect transition.

“Wanda Maximoff you are a genius!” You say. Wanda hugs you tightly and smiles. “We’re ready for the service now.”

“I’ll get my robe on,” Wanda says.

She stands up from the piano and takes her robe out of the closet. Somehow, she looks even better in it than in her regular clothes.

“Looking very nice, ma’am,” you compliment Wanda.

“Thank you,” Wanda replies. She walks closer to you. “Can I admit something to you?”

“Yeah- of course.”

Wanda is just inches from you. You smell her perfume.

“I’ve always thought these robes were kind of silly, but then I saw you in one,” Wanda says. “And now I think they are very flattering.”

Wanda grins before she steps back and leaves the suite. You stand there stunned by her words. She was definitely flirting with you this time.

You try to shake it off and go lead the choir during service. It goes without a hitch. The only time you almost miss a cue is when Wanda smiles at you. It’s really that easy for her to make you fold.

After the service, you go back to the choir suite. No one else is in there when you walk in, but soon Wanda comes in and shuts the door behind her.

“You should leave that on,” Wanda says, gesturing to your robe.

“Are they calling for an encore out there?” You joke.

Wanda crosses the room quickly. She places a hand on your forearm and the other comes to rest on your cheek. Your breath hitches at her movements.

“I’m very attracted to you,” Wanda says. “Are you attracted to me?”

“Wanda, I- um- it’s not that simple,” you say. Of course, your answer is yes.

“I think it’s simple. You’re absolutely stunning,” Wanda says.

“You’re beautiful, Wanda. But we can’t.”

Wanda pouts her perfect lips. You fight the urge to lean forward and kiss them.

“Would you really deny me this pleasure, sweetheart?” She asks.

“No,” you mumble.

“What was that?”

“No ma’am.”

She grins wickedly and places her lips on yours in a long, slow kiss. Her hand on your face slips into your hair as she deepens the kiss. Her other hand takes yours and places it over one of her breasts. Even through the robe and her clothing, you can feel the breast.

You kiss until neither of you can breathe. And then you drop to your knees in front of Wanda. She lifts her robe up over her hips. Taking your time, you take off her skirt and let her panties fall to the floor.

“Make me feel good, baby,” Wanda says.

You place kisses against her creamy thighs. She shivers with every touch, and you know her husband doesn’t touch her like this. Wanda moans when you lick through her folds, gathering her wetness with your tongue.

“I’ve thought about this for so long,” Wanda says. “About you on your knees worshipping me in this church.”

“Fuck,” you mumble against her.

Wanda’s hand comes to your hair to encourage you to continue. You never want to stop. You take her clit in your mouth and her hips stutter. In a few more moments, Wanda falls apart at your touch. She has to reach for the nearest chair to regain her balance.

“Holy fuck, Wanda,” you say when you emerge from between her legs.

“Mmm, come here,” she says. She lifts you up by your shoulders and you kiss her.

Wanda lets out the softest moans at the taste of herself on your tongue. She wants more. You let her take control, pushing you down to the ground again.

This time she lifts your robe up your body to reveal your hips and something she didn’t expect. Your cock is hard, and Wanda immediately takes it into her mouth. She sucks until you’re coming into her mouth.

“Oh fuck, y/n,” Wanda says. “You’ve been holding out on me.”

“Ride my cock, baby?” You ask her.

Wanda nods and settles herself over you. She aligns her center with your cock, slipping onto it with ease. She is so wet from getting you off. The woman rides your cock as she moves her hands over your abdomen. You can see yourself slipping in and out of her even with your choir robe bunched up at your chest.

“Fuck, Wanda, I’m going to come,” you say as you feel yourself getting close.

“Me too,” she groans out. Her eyes are closed with pleasure. She shouts as she comes, and you spill into her.

Wanda lets you stay inside her until she’s come down from her high. You kiss her when she slips off of you and lays on the ground next to you.

“We should’ve done that months ago,” you say.

“Agreed,” Wanda says. She chuckles. “Can you go again?”

You look down at yourself. It’s unlikely but you’re willing to try.

“Maybe if we kissed for a while first? Or you let me get you off first?”

“By all means, go ahead,” Wanda says.

You laugh and turn over to kiss Wanda again. Lifting her robe off this time, you pay close attention to her breasts. And you bring her pleasure again. She does the same for you.

Wanda is definitely why you love your job, especially now.

[lovelyjj]

hey! Can you write insecure reader who stops eating and her boyfriend JJ finds out?

I love all your works btw! 😽🫶

Insecure

jj maybank x reader

a/n: thank you and thank you so much for requesting!

It was hard not to compare yourself to other girls. When you were at the beach all you could think about is the bodies of the other girls. They had tiny waists and long legs. Their hair was perfect and you just wished you looked like them.

The fact that you had to wear a bikini to the beach made you not want to go. Showing off your body is quite possibly the last thing you would ever want to be doing. So you would ether not go or wear a sweatshirt and say you weren’t tanning or swimming.

It was also hard to see the same girls at the beach flirt with your boyfriend. JJ would blow them off and reassure you that that you were the only one for him. JJ didn’t even glance in their direction. He was completely devoted to you. Yet you still felt like he deserved better.

All you could think about is how horrible you looked. You were far from how the girls at the beach looked, and you couldn’t help but think you were ugly. You were deeply insecure and you didn’t know how to fix it.

You felt uncomfortable in your own skin and not good enough for anyone or anything. You were tired of feeling this way, it was draining. You were also feeling hopeless. Your mind was your worst enemy. Every time you looked in the mirror you cringed. So, you tried to avoid doing that at all times.

When food was placed in front of you you would almost gag. You didn’t want to eat. It was too much. You thought maybe if you stopped eating you would become thinner and look like all the other girls with tiny waists.

You didn’t mean to it just sort of happened. You thought you were just not hungry, but then you were skipping meals. a lot of meals. You have stopped eating all together and you were hoping that you would get good results out of it.

JJ wasn’t stupid, he knew something was wrong he just didn’t know what. He noticed that he hasn’t seen you eat in a long time. He also noticed that you’ve lost some weight. Of course your weight didn’t matter to him but he was concerned for your health.

The chateau was busy with all the pogues in it. They were all getting ready to go in the hot tub. You were having a dilemma because you didn’t want to get into a swimsuit. So you decided you wouldn’t go in.

“What’s up buttercup?” JJ asked.

“Nothing just chillin,” you spoke.

“How are you, seriously?” JJ asked. He was concerned about you. He was watching you decline and he hated it.

“Um m’fine,” you replied.

“I think we need to talk,” JJ put forth.

“what about?”

“I haven’t seen you eat in a long time and I’m worried about you,” JJ confessed.

You let out a deep sigh. You did not want to have this conversation right now.

“Don’t worry about it JJ,” you instructed.

“No I will worry about it because i worry about you. You’re my girl and I care about you. I’m concerned. Please baby, talk to me.” JJ begged.

“I just want to feel pretty,” tears filled your eyes but you didn’t let them fall.

“I thought maybe if I stop eating, I would loose some weight.” You looked down on the floor avoiding JJ’s eyes.

“You know I think you’re the most beautiful girl in the world right?!”

“Baby please look at me.”

You did as you were told, reluctantly.

“I want you to listen to me when I say this. You’re perfect just the way you are. I love you and I love your body. I think you’re gorgeous. It breaks my heart that you don’t see it. I wish you could see yourself through my eyes.”

You gave JJ a sad smile.

“Come here,” JJ opened his arms for you to get into.

Once you were in JJ’s arms he kissed your cheek. Then he kissed your forehead. He then kissed your temple. “My beautiful girl, love you so much!” Then he kissed your lips.

“How about I order a pizza?” JJ suggested.

“I don’t know jayj,” you shrugged.

“Come on please baby I need you to eat something for me. I don’t want you to wither away. I care about you and your health.”

“I’ll eat with you, I will even help you. If you want me too,” JJ shrugged.

“Jayj…”

“No come on, I’m ordering the pizza, end of story.”

You gave JJ a small smile silently thanking him but you were more so just done protesting. You knew JJ meant well you were just stubborn. It meant a lot to you that he cared so much about you. You thought it was sweet. You just really didn’t want to eat.

The pizza was delivered and you were dreading eating it. JJ took the pizza to his room so you could have some privacy.

“I know you don’t want to eat but i’m right here I’m not going anywhere and I want you to nourish your body.”

“okay jayj.”

JJ sat with you and helped you eat. He was understanding and considerate. He wanted to be there for you during this hard time. With JJ’s help you were able to eat something.

“There you go baby, good job! I’m proud of you,” JJ praised.

“Thank you J.”

[nolanfa-fanart]

Gen (non-romantic) fics recs: DC, the Batfamily has Issues

Gen (Non-romantic) Fic recs for @genuaryficrecs (and anyone else who likes good fic)

Fandom: DC, batfam Focus: The Bat family has Issues This is the place for comically bad at communication!batfam, oh gosh you have so many issues (affectionate), trauma, etc. Please assume that every "Why I love it" summary is prefaced with "This is one of my fave DC fics. First, it's very well-written. Second, ". List under the readmore.

I'm a Good Pretender, by shipNslash ( https://archiveofourown.org/works/45598369 ) 7/7 chapters, 40.416 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply Main characters: Dick mostly, and Bruce

Official Summary: “You’re doing it again,” Bruce says, tone accusatory. “You’re faking.” “It’s not faking,” Dick snaps, a little more aggressive than he means to be. But he doesn’t like that word, doesn’t like the connotations. (Especially when he knows Bruce is lying about something, too.) “Then what is it?” “It’s called being charming and it’s nice.” -_- Dick’s mother raised her son to be a star. Dick’s father raised his son to be an athlete. Bruce's new ward is charming (manipulative), dedicated (obsessive), and way, way too smart for either of their own good.

Why I love it: This is peak Performer Dick. Smart kid Dick who knows how to make people like him. Hyperactive Dick. And Wet Cat Battinson. Who wouldn't want to see them interact?

Excerpts: "Oh. From the- That is, yes. I'm, uh, I'm Richard's case worker." The boy visibly twitches and she redirects her attention. "Hello, Richard. Are you al- um, How are you feeling?" Alfred almost winces but, instead of withdrawing again or lashing out, Richard does something much, much more distressing. Right in front of Alfred, the boy transforms into someone totally different. His posture shifts, from despondent slackness to a sort of tense hunch, making him look far younger and in much more distress. His expression loses the blankness of shock as his bottom lip wobbles and his eyes well up with big, fat tears. "I wanna go home,” he cries out. “Please, I just wanna go home!" - And Dick is glad that this isn’t their first meeting, because Mister Wayne is painfully, intolerably awkward the whole time. He flinches every time someone addresses him, only makes eye contact with the toes of his scuffed converse shoes, and sneaks out the back door halfway through with Mister Pennyworth when he is very obviously losing a battle against an oncoming panic attack. How did this guy survive being famous, Dick wonders, watching him creep back in like he won’t be noticed if he’s quiet enough.

-- By Any Other Name, by ManURonaldo, part of the Like Father Like Sons series https://archiveofourown.org/works/40244490 1/1 chapters, 4.569 words (part of a 55k series) T, Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (brief mention of Jason's mom) Main characters: Jason and Bruce (decent Dick, Steph and Tim presence in the rest of the series)

Official Summary: “Have you seen Bruce recently?” Dick asks one night. “Haven’t seen Bruce since the last time I saw you,” Jason responds. He can feel the weight of Tim’s eyes on him though, and it’s grating. “WHAT, Tim?” “You saw him last night,” Tim responds after a moment, flicking his eyes towards Dick. “Literally last night, man.” “Yeah,” Jason responds without thinking, because he hasn’t slept in 58 hours, “I saw Batman last night. I haven’t seen Bruce in a month.” For a moment, there’s complete silence. And then, in an exasperated whisper, Dick says: “what the fuck, Jay?” OR: Jason picks up a little bit more from Bruce than he means to as Robin. It doesn’t go away, not even when he’s Hood. OR: Jason watches Bruce. Tim watches Jason. Dick watches Tim. They all need therapy.

Why I love it: I love that one. I love the way it features Identity Issues. The first story in the series is about Jason and Bruce, and following ones are also about Jason's relationships with Dick, Tim, Steph, and the way those different relationships interact. The Tim and Jason part (in the following stories) in particular goes way deeper than the usual dynamic of resentment for taking Robin / for past violence, and looks at why, now, they might or might not like / understand each other. Each of the batfam members is fucked up in different ways, which I love.

Excerpts: Jason is six years old and sometimes he feels like his dad is two different people in one body. There’s a person in there that loves him and holds him even though he’s too big to be held and makes him breakfast in the morning. And there’s another person in there, too, who thinks Jason is annoying and spoiled and always in the way and a problem. There are signs, is the thing: Jason can figure out who he’s talking to, if he’s quiet enough. It’s about the way the footsteps in the hallway sound, it’s about the label on the bottle in his dad’s hand. Sometimes when Jason enters a room he makes a noise just to see: if he squeaks his shoe and his dad doesn’t notice, it’s his nice dad. If his dad grimaces or glares, it’s the dad that doesn’t like him, and Jason needs to leave. It’s all about knowing who he’s talking to, Jason learns. If he knows who he’s talking to, he can be better about making mistakes.

-- May Tomorrow Never Come, by @lurkinglurkerwholurks https://archiveofourown.org/works/43606872 1/1 chapters, 3.580 words G, No Archive Warnings Apply Main Characters: Jason and Bruce

Official Summary: Jason clawed his way out of the nightmare like a drowning man.

Why I love it: First, I think it is very good, as a fic specifically. All fics live in the soup of canon and fanon facts we absorbed along the way, and you knowing who the characters are and what happens to them in different iterations informs your understanding of them, but this one does it particularly well. Second. It broke my heart. It talks about trust and intimacy and kid/parent relationships and fear and nostalgy and love and. I love it.

Excerpts: The Manor waited outside the door, exactly like it should be. The hallway was quiet and dark, the darkness tight and full, but not scary. He hadn’t been scared here since those first few months, when this place was only a place. He couldn’t be scared at home, no matter how his head spun and his nerves jumped and jittered.

-- Red Letter Day, by @silverwhittlingknife https://archiveofourown.org/works/28988874 9/? chapters, 41,819 words (technically part of a series but can be read as standalone) - WIP, last updated july 2022 G, Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings (some oblique references to the blockbuster plotline) Main Characters: Dick

Official Summary: Dick Grayson, stressed pseudo-parent to a preteen assassin, tries to solve the case of Damian’s Mysterious Wednesday. He never expected it to help him fix his relationship with Tim, too. (… Though only after everything fell apart first.) Eventual fix-it for Dick & Tim’s Red Robin fight, but other rocky relationships - Dick & Jason, Tim & Damian, Damian & Bruce, Dick & Bruce - wow, this family is dysfunctional - might improve too. Eventually. They just have to, y’know, work through All of Their Issues first. XD

Why I love it: The characterization is delightful. Dick tries to hold the world on his shoulders, scrambling to hold everyone together; he's also very much not perfect, and biaised and petty against specific other people. Jason is an antagonistic asshole but he tries. Tim doesn't understand boundaries but means really really well. They love each other very much but they're afraid and they just talk over / through / just to the left of each other. This is a dumpster fire. Also the end notes of each chapter include interesting tidbits about what is canon (with specific runs/issues) which I personally find super interesting.

Excerpts: This is out-of-character: deliberately unprofessional. And it’s definitely deliberate. Dick doesn’t want to second-guess Tim’s first amicable overture in what feels like years. He catches himself doing it anyway. When Tim was fourteen, the faceplant comment might have been spontaneous - just a wry observation, maybe with a quick grin, sharing the joke. But Tim’s older now, and a lot more serious. So this casual remark is actually calculated. So what is this? An attempt to recapture an old camaraderie? Or is Tim covering up a bad mood with a chipper attitude? Or is this another manifestation of Tim’s concern, a test to gauge Dick’s mood? Argh. Or maybe Tim is just being friendly, Grayson.

[bucketbueckers]

I'D RATHER PRETEND

CHAPTER EIGHT

tags: @angryflowerwitch @avvwritesstufff @melpthatsme @rebecca-woso @bueckersg1rl @l0verl4ne @clouded-whispers @dolliest-thena @katemartinlvr @numberonepartyanth3m @glamourdaya @pbbucks @unadulteratedcyclepaper @paiges-1vur @thelightknight21 wc: 9.5k notes: would it be funny if instead of linking the masterlist i linked something really weird instead. im just kidding though. or am i. call me the uconn womens basketball team the way i had a terrible first half performance but locked in for the second half of this chapter. um jk. no im not someone tell geno to figure his shit out. between geno and luigi, this has been a really sad month to be an italian. please keep us in your thoughts during this time. also idk why this is so long, the first half of this chapter truly chewed me up and spit me out so i have nothing to say. next chapter is the last for this series and if anyone has any suggestions on how im supposed to feel about that, please let me know cause idk what's happening. im probably not going to proofread this so take this as you will. as always, let me know how we're feeling about this and happy holidays 🫶

‘A Family Affair, A House Divided’

In February, the South Carolina Gamecocks hosted the University of Connecticut Huskies for the regular season. After a thrilling, competitive game, the Gamecocks ultimately secured the win in a convincing 83-65 victory over the Huskies. Te-Hina Paopao led the Gamecocks with a dominant 21 points, shooting 5/7 from three. Connecticut’s dual-threats, Paige Bueckers and Aaliyah Edwards, scored 20 points each but were unable to clear the deficit.

However, despite the rousing game, many viewers were interested in the storyline between South Carolina’s Tess Kennedy and Connecticut’s Paige Bueckers. In the last issue, we mentioned that many felt as though this match-up was a house divided as Bueckers and Kennedy made their relationship official in June of last year. Critics were concerned whether or not they would be able to take the game seriously as a couple, although Bueckers proved many wrong with her performance. Bueckers was very focused on her game, and while Kennedy was still on the bench with only a few more weeks of ACL recovery, South Carolina did not waver. One commenter noted that Bueckers and Kennedy have been playing basketball for a very long time. They are both invested and focused on their game, and many supporters believe that they would not let off-court distractions and pressures stop them from playing their games to the highest of their ability.

In fact, Bueckers and Kennedy were spotted at the Tin Roof, a bar nearby the University of South Carolina, roughly an hour after the game ended. Insiders noted that Kennedy ordered – and take a deep breath, everyone – a soda, and that she appeared to be having a lengthy conversation with Bueckers. Out of respect, our source has elected to not share the contents of their conversation (nor would we share it!), but did tell us that Bueckers and Kennedy are “stronger than ever” despite the on-court tensions and critical narratives.

Basketball fans can rest easy knowing that Bueckers and Kennedy are committed to each other and committed to playing some electrifying basketball in the NCAA tournament. As the SEC and Big East tournaments quickly approach, viewers are excited to see where the two teams will land and we are eagerly awaiting the clash of the titans.

-Penelope Lancaster, Bleacher Report

MARCH 8, 2024

“Slow” ends up working a lot better than either of them had been expecting.

Honestly, part of Tess was worried that they’d give up on it after a day or two. She knew that she and Paige had terrible restraint around each other. It would have been far too easy to give up on trying to be mature about their situation, although they were both committed to giving it an honest shot. Things are great. Truthfully, she hasn’t felt this secure with Paige in a long time, not since Christmas and New Year’s, but even they couldn’t come close. She and Paige were locked in – for real this time – and knowing that was just so comforting.

They don’t change very much. They communicate a lot more and they’re more open about their feelings and insecurities, the two main things they had to hide from each other while they were fake dating. Paige is still affectionate, charmingly (or insufferably) flirtatious, and gets on each and every last one of Tess’s nerves. It’s not far off from how she behaved when they were “faking,” which kind of makes Tess mad – Paige’s was so fucking obvious and she just never realized, never allowed herself to entertain the thought that there was a little bit of truth to their lie. If Tess was being real, she’d have to admit that she didn’t really change, either, and she realizes she was being pretty obvious, too – she and Paige might just be a little oblivious.

February and the first week of March passes in a blur of traveling, games, and practice. The two of them make a more concerted effort to stay in touch, especially while they’re on the road, which is probably why Bree forcibly implements a “no phones after 10pm” rule when they have to room together. It’s not like they talk about anything weird – they mostly talk about Grey’s or Paige yaps about the NBA, but Bree says that Tess is “pussy-whipped” and “down bad” and that she can’t sleep through her giggling. That doesn’t happen, by the way, and Tess certainly does not giggle. Reluctantly, she adheres to Bree’s tyranny.

By the time the SEC tournament rolls around, Tess is fully cleared for play, although she’s under a minute restriction. The trust that Coach Staley has in her is honestly commendable – Tess herself would be hesitant to play her so soon after her injury and especially in a game as important as an SEC tournament one, but she’s not going to fuck up this opportunity. Both she and Coach Staley are cognizant of the five game maximum Tess needs to abide by to keep eligibility for next year. Tennessee and LSU are tough opponents and she understands that Coach would prefer to have her in these games instead of betting on making it to the NCAA tournament so Tess can play her five games there.

For the Texas A&M game, Tess is the first on the court for warmups. Tip off is an hour and a half away, so she locks in, dividing her time between shooting drills and stretching her legs while her teammates filter in. She feels good, but she’s still a little stiff. She knows there’s some lingering worry in the back of her mind – she’s healed, she’ll be fine, and she’s practiced with full contact, but playing against her teammates and the practice boys is nowhere near the same as playing against an actual opponent whose season is on the line. It will take her a couple of reps on the court before she gets hot and starts letting the ball fly, but she knows she’s not going to have a crazy game. Her main goal is to just have a good impact, whether it’s through scoring, defensive stops, or forcing contested shots.

Paige had wished her good luck and promised she would be watching. She said she would have flown out but she had her game against Providence in Rhode Island the very next day, so Tess forced her to keep her ass in Connecticut, much to Paige’s chagrin and disappointment. She swore she’d be able to make it in time. Tess was more concerned about Paige’s teammates having to deal with their sleep deprived captain and at this point in the season, the last thing the Huskies needed was Paige falling asleep during warm ups.

Warmups fly by and when tip off finally rolls around, Tess is on the bench for the first seven minutes of the quarter. When she’s subbed in for Bree, they’re up 12-9, and the resounding cheer that she receives is the loudest the arena has heard thus far. She grins as she jogs onto the court, high-fiving Bree as she passes. Texas A&M inbounds and misses, though the rebound is scooped up by Sania, who chucks it up court into Tess’s awaiting hands. She hardly thinks as she shoots. It circles the rim once before falling into Ashlyn’s grasp, whose putback is solid and puts them up 14-9, although Texas A&M is fouled in the scuffle.

She was hardly an inch off. After months off, she’s okay with that, but she knows her work is going to show. She won’t miss the second time.

Texas A&M only makes one of their two free throws. Te-Hina gets the ball and she shoots, although her shot is blocked by Janiah Barker and the ball rolls out of bounds. Te-Hina inbounds it, lobbing it to Tessa Johnson, who launches it right back to Te-Hina, who passes it to Tess, unguarded at the top of the key, and she lets it fly. The ball swishes in without much preamble and the crowd roars – Tess Kennedy’s first points back after her ACL injury. She musters a grin as she switches to defense.

Tess ends the quarter with an efficient 5 points and a steal – not bad considering her last game was last year’s Final Four. She starts the second where she’s particularly explosive – notching an additional 4 points, another steal, and an assist in the seven minutes she’s in. By halftime, she’s tallied 9 points, 2 steals, and her lone assist, but her teammates jostle and cheer and she can’t help but feel so, so good about herself – Tess Kennedy is so fucking back.

Coach Staley benches her for the first half of the third quarter, but she’s not mad. Coach already told her she wasn’t playing any more than twenty minutes and even that was pushing the limit. When she subs back in, they have a comfortable lead and she feels like she’s on fire. Kamilla and Ashlyn land three back to back layups (including an and one) in the first minute Tess is on court, and honestly, she just feeds off of that energy. On their next offensive possession, Ashlyn draws a crowd under the basket and kicks the ball out to Tess, who hardly thinks as she shoots it. It swishes in cleanly and she switches back to defense, where she forces a shot clock violation.

Texas A&M holds them scoreless until the last twenty or so seconds of the third. They’d begun to hound Tess at the perimeter, but she wasn’t going to let their suffocating defense allow them to close the lead too much. Texas A&M shoots a late three, though the ball clangs off the rim and is scooped up by Te-Hina. They have five seconds left on the clock and Te-Hina passes to Tess at the line. She dribbles, gearing up for a three, but she’s hounded on defense immediately. Tess spins out of the coverage, driving down the open lane, stepping back and letting it fly from midrange as the shot clock expires. It goes in. Tess exhales as the crowd erupts, hyped after an electrifying buzzer beater.

She sits for the entirety of the fourth, but the Gamecocks hold a comfortable lead and they secure the win 79-68. Tess closes out her first game back with a solid 14 points and 2 steals, and 3 assists. She couldn’t ask for much more. 

This was the moment she’d been working towards since May. Now that it’s here, it’s almost as surreal as her first college game ever, her first SEC win, her first NCAA championship game. Those hold a special place in her heart but coming off of an ACL injury and all of the shit she put herself through and performing at a high level just means more. If you’d asked her back in April, after she tore her ACL and was drowning in her own thoughts, she would have laughed at you and told her that it wasn’t possible. She would have said she would never play basketball again. But here she is, celebrating the first of three SEC wins that will punch their ticket directly to the NCAA tournament. It’s taken so much work to get back here, but she did it. She had some help and she’ll never forget that, but she dragged herself out of this mess as well as she dragged herself into it. That’s enough for her to be proud of.

Coach Staley makes her do the presser, which she’s less excited about, although the reporters seem to be on their best behavior today as they congratulate her on her first game back and her recovery. The reporters ask the typical questions: What adjustments did you make to stop Texas A&M’s comeback efforts? How have you adapted in practice to integrate Tess back into the plays? Will Tess play tomorrow for the Tennessee game? For once in their lives, they don’t ask anything particularly invasive, but Tess is just ready to get back to her apartment and relax after the day’s excitement.

When she does, Bree and Kamilla congratulate her one last time, wrapping her up in warm hugs as she grins at them. She makes it back to her room – finally – and turns on her phone to find several messages from Paige, ranging over the course of a few hours.

Good luck today You’re going to kill it 🫶

[Delivered 11:45am]

You look so pretty on the bench I’m getting my manager to reach out to the NCAA so they can start broadcasting bench cams I can’t focus on the game

[Delivered 12:07pm]

Tess Kennedy minutes!!! I’m so excited Lock their shit up baby

[Delivered 12:09pm]

Good shot I saw the hoop move Not your fault

[Delivered 12:11pm]

Kennedy for threeeeee Kennedy with the STEAL??? LAYUP Okay I’m On my Way! Autocorrect

[Delivered 12:13pm]

Tess reads through all of her messages, a beaming smile on her face at Paige’s goofiness. If she had this to look forward to after each game, then she’s going to show up and give everyone a show while she’s at it.

[Tess disliked “I’m getting my manager to…”]

is this tess kennedy’s biggest fan?! you should be careful i heard she has a gf

Does she?

she does they’re very locked in i dont think you have a chance

Bummer I think I could convince Tess Kennedy to give me a shot though

can you?

In lieu of a response, the FaceTime call comes through immediately and Tess accepts it with a grin. Paige’s face fills her screen, wearing a warm smile. “Hey, ma,” Paige says, her features softening. Tess can’t help her lovestruck expression. “Good game. You did amazing.”

Tess flushing, her grin growing at Paige’s words. “Thanks,” she says, her voice a near whisper. “I was just…honestly, I was just stoked to be playing again. I could have dropped a donut and turned the ball over and I still would have been happy. I get to play basketball again.”

“You do,” Paige hums, shifting slightly. “You worked so hard to get back here. Don’t forget it.”

Tess laughs gently. “I couldn’t if I tried.” Then, her face softens, her gaze so unashamedly full of adoration that Paige can see it clear as day through the phone. “My ACL led me to you. So…there were some good things that came out of it.”

Paige beams, her cheeks twinging with pink. “Yeah?” she asks bashfully. “You think that when I’m pissing you off?”

“You piss me off all the time,” Tess states. “So yes.”

Paige clutches her chest like she’s swooning, pretending to cry. “My girl says the sweetest things,” she proclaims, wiping an imaginary tear as Tess rolls her eyes affectionately. 

“Are you done?” Tess asks, amused.

“Nah. But you just dropped 14 points in a conference tournament so I’ll cut you a break.”

Tess huffs. “Thanks, Paige. I appreciate that one.”

Paige gives her a cheeky wink, her face all too smug. Tess can’t believe this is who she’s in love with, but as she watches the slow smile spread across Paige’s face as she rambles about the game, she can believe that this is who she fell in love with. Paige rounds out her sharp edges, grounds her, always challenges her, and makes her feel like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world. She believes in her unconditionally, supports her through it all, and understands her better than she understands herself. Her falling in love with Paige was always going to happen, but Paige falling in love with her, too, was something that she’d never take for granted.

APRIL 5, 2024

The last two games of the SEC tournament were incredibly tense. On March 9th, the Gamecocks battled the Tennessee Volunteers in the SEC semifinal, which was a nailbiter until the very end. At the end of the fourth, the Volunteers were up 73-71 with a little over a second left on the clock. Tess was tasked with inbounding the game ball after a foul by Tennessee – she passed to a wide open Kamilla, who, on her first three-point attempt of the season, banked it in and Tess and her teammates immediately swarmed her.

On the 10th, they were matched against LSU, which was…interesting. They won 79-72, but late in the fourth quarter, there was an intentional foul on Flau’jae Johnson that stopped the play and led to several ejections. Tess was more worried about getting her ass in position to score after MiLaysia tapped the ball out of Flau’jae’s hands, but the altercation occurred quick enough that Tess didn’t even know they were fighting until Kamilla knocked Flau’jae flat on her ass. Tess knew that this wasn’t her fight for multiple reasons. First of all, she’s 5’10 and she thought the weight room was optional until sophomore year. She is too pretty and too young to get laid out like that. Second of all, she’s not retearing her ACL by trying to throw down on the court. And third of all, she is reformed, thank you very much – she spent enough time trying to fix her image and she doesn’t think the media will be as lenient the second time around.

That’s probably why she gets turned into a meme after the game. One user on Twitter uploaded a screenshot of her standing alone in the middle of the court, hands raised in the air while everyone was fighting, and captioned it, “If I sent you this, it means that shit is not my business.” If Tess was being honest, that was pretty funny. Paige told her she made that picture her new lock screen and, well, that’s determinedly less funny since Paige’s old lock screen was allegedly a cute mirror selfie of the two of them.

As the SEC champions, they were guaranteed a place in the NCAA tournament, which Tess was stoked for. This would be her fourth year in a row back – in 2021, they fell short to Stanford by 1 point in the Final Four (goddamn Cameron Brink and Lexie Hull); they won in 2022; and Tess doesn’t even want to talk about the 2023 Final Four loss. All she knows is that they will put Iowa on a t-shirt this year (respectfully). Tess is back with a vengeance. That was her motto going into the NCAA tournament.

The first four games were cakewalks, excluding Indiana, although they pulled out a close win. Tess was on the bench until the Final Four game against NC State. She was looking forward to it for a myriad of reasons. NC State would be a challenge, but she was confident they were going to win. Combined with the fact that she and Paige would be in the same place since February, she was excited to get to spend some extra time with her girlfriend (provided they were able to sneak away). Their game wasn’t set to start until 7pm, which Tess was less than excited for. The silver lining was that she would be able to see Paige and the Huskies go head-to-head with Iowa. Tess will admit that she’s sad she won’t be the one kicking Iowa’s ass, but she and Paige share so much anyways; she can have the honor, even if Tess will lay awake at night thinking about all of the points she could have scored on her lick back game.

She and Paige managed to find the time to sneak away and spend a good few hours with each other that morning. Paige treated her to a nice brunch, much to Tess’s chagrin – Paige pays for entirely too much.

“You can get it next time,” Paige tells her, though the grin on her face was not convincing as she slid her card into the booklet and handed it off to their waitress. The smile she gave the waitress was polite and chaste, her full attention on Tess, and Tess couldn’t help but preen a little.

“I feel like you’re lying to me,” Tess grumbles good-naturedly.

“Oh, for sure,” Paige admits shamelessly, breaking out into quiet laughter when Tess rolls her eyes. Paige taps her ankle lightly with her foot, drawing Tess’s attention back up to her. “Gimme 20 tonight and I’ll let you get it. Promise.”

Tess huffs, amused as she narrows her eyes. “Let me?”

Paige shrugs. “We can do 15 if you feel like 20’s too much,” she goads, spinning the ice in her water nonchalantly with her straw. Tess’s eye twitches. Damn it.

“20’s fine,” she bites out. Paige smirks at her and she sighs, knowing she’s been baited. Paige extends her hand across the table and Tess half-heartedly shakes it.

They spend another hour together after they eat, although Tess’s coaches summon her and her teammates for some last minute film and practice. She knows that she and Paige will get to spend vastly more time together once the season ends, but leaving Paige alone in her hotel room to finish watching Grey’s feels more like leaving for war. She’d sighed when she read the text message, not really wanting to get up, but she was not in the mood to test Coach Staley.

Paige watches her get ready to go, her head propped up by a fist, her expression contemplative, soft, and sickeningly in love. If it were anyone else, Tess would have gagged, but there’s just something different about being sickeningly in love with someone and knowing that they’re sickeningly in love with you, too. Paige stares at her like she’s not dressed in sweatpants and a South Carolina hoodie, her hair in a loose bun, but the way her gaze lingers makes her feel like she’s the most beautiful girl in the world – knowing Paige, she’d undoubtedly agree, and that makes a small smile appear on her face as she slides into her shoes.

Paige catches her around the waist before she can leave fully, dragging her back down on the bed and kissing her one last time. It’s gentle, unhurried, and warm – Paige’s hand maps the flush on her cheek and she grins as they break away. “You’re gonna kill it tonight,” Paige whispers to her. She says it so confidently, so assured like it’s more fact than reassurance, and all Tess can honestly do is believe it. She tore her ACL during the last Final Four she played in, but she knows this one is different. This is the true test of her recovery, skills, and abilities; Tess Kennedy is back and everyone in the college basketball sphere will know it.

“You will too,” Tess says, kissing Paige again, only breaking away when Paige’s subsequent smile grows too large. She presses her lips to her cheek instead, squeezing her hand as she pulls away to tease, “Just don’t get too upset when we play in the championship again and I have to break your ankles.”

“Not happening,” Paige says smugly, which just makes Tess shake her head. “Gonna try to tune in for you but Coach is doing film and practice before our game. He hates me.”

“He wants you guys to win,” Tess corrects. “Maybe you should tell CD to reschedule so you can watch your girlfriend.”

Paige frowns at her. “You’d have a better chance scorin’ on me than I would convincin’ CD to do anything.”

Tess pulls away from her, an indignant look on her face. Paige laughs as Tess rolls her eyes. “Rude!” she exclaims, walking towards the door.

“Hey,” Paige calls, her laughter easing up and a more serious expression on her face. Tess turns, leaning against the wall, her smile fond as she locks eyes with Paige. “I’m serious. You got this, you know? Whatever happens, I’m proud of you. You worked so hard for this. Don’t overthink it, don’t get in your head, jus’ play your game. I love you.”

Tess feels something flip in her gut, a sort of weightlessness in her chest that makes her grin widen. She can’t help how stupid she probably looks, cheesing just because Paige told her that she loves her, but that confession is quickly becoming one of the things she never grows tired of hearing. She wouldn’t mind hearing it for the rest of their lives; Tess doesn’t care how soon it is. She’s sure that Paige is it for her. That thought doesn’t scare her at all. “Thanks, Paige,” she says, a little bashful, but Paige’s expression is understanding. “I love you, too.”

Paige blows her a cheeky kiss, which, ugh, Tess pretends to catch, but she can’t bring herself to care. And if Tess doesn’t even defend herself when Bree makes fun of her as soon as she gets to the conference room (extremely late), then that’s nobody’s business but her own.

Later that night, the NC State game goes about as well as expected.

Tess starts the first quarter, along with Kamilla, Te-Hina, Raven, and Chloe. They start the game off with an explosive five points notched within the first minute – a two pointer from Te-Hina and a three from Raven. Tess didn’t get very many touches in the first two possessions, but she played good defense and secured the steal that led to Raven’s three pointer. NC State holds them scoreless for two and a half minutes, increasing the lead to 7-5 in favor of NC State, although Kamilla ends their run early with a jumper that ties the game with just under six minutes left. A well-timed block from Kamilla sends the ball in Chloe’s direction and she scoops up the rebound, passing it to Tess on the wing, who knocks down her first three of the night. NC State ties it up again 10-10, then NC State scores off of a steal, then Ashlyn shoots, though the ball doesn’t fall and she picks up the offensive rebound. She kicks it out to Tess again, who takes a long two and it falls in. They’re tied 12-12 with about three minutes left, but Coach Staley motions for subs and Bree replaces Tess so she can get a quick breather. In the efficient seven minutes Tess was on the court, she notched five points on 100% shooting, one steal, and one assist, which was good enough for her as the Gamecocks close out the first quarter with a game-tying 3 point shot and the and 1 from Milaysia.

The second quarter starts with all of the starters back on the court, looking to retake the lead at 16-16. Kamilla and Tess are the only ones who score during the entire second quarter, which is frustrating as NC State forces four turnovers. At the end of the half, Tess has scored an additional 7 points with a few extra assists and a steal, tallying her statline at 12 points, two steals, and four assists. Kamilla accounts for an additional 16 of the Gamecocks’ 32 points.

The energy in the locker room is intense as Coach Staley fires them up, going over plays and adjustments. The shift is immediate when they return for the second half. They hold NC State to only six points in the third quarter while they score 29, increasing the score and their lead to 61-37. NC State could have an explosive fourth quarter, but Tess doesn’t plan to let that happen. While she was out with her ACL, one of the things about her game that she improved on immensely was her defense, which shows in the fourth as she ends the game with two more steals, a block, and other plays that won’t show on her stat sheet like forcing shot clock violations or contested shots. At the end of the game, confetti rains down as the Gamecocks are the Final Four winners, 78-59. Tess notched 20 of those points, only trailing behind Kamilla, who had 22. She celebrates with her team, excitement coursing through her body – she’d won the game and her bet with Paige. All in a day’s work.

She showers quickly and sits through the presser. A reporter asked her what it was like being back in the Final Four – and taking home the Final Four win – after last year’s disappointment, and all Tess could really say about it was, “It’s a blessing.” Her teammates led her here through an undefeated regular season and they trusted her enough to welcome her back on court during some of the most important games of their season – the SEC games, the Final Four. She’s overwhelmed with gratitude, appreciation, and love for the game, although her joy quickly fades when a reporter asks, “The championship match up will be between South Carolina and Iowa or South Carolina and UConn. How do you plan on facing personal conflicts of interest in either of those matches?”

Tess knows she’s trending before she even feels her face contort, although Kamilla pinches her thigh under the table and she schools her expression. She figures that the UConn conflict of interest – whatever the fuck that means – is more than likely referring to her and Paige, although she’s more confused about the Iowa one. Was it because Iowa defeated them last year and people are still trying to make it seem like Tess holds a grudge for her ACL?

Coach Staley hasn’t interrupted to say next question yet, so Tess answers it to the best of her ability. “Um, I can promise that there will be no personal conflicts of interest. I’m here to play ball. Nothing else to it. All of us, South Carolina, Iowa, UConn, whoever, we’re mature players and any off-court friendships are just that – off-court. We’re here to win. I don’t hold anything against Iowa for last year’s loss or my knee.” She leaves it at that, although the reporter was clearly expecting more, but she doesn’t care.

The rest of the conference keeps on moving until Coach Staley ends the questioning. Coach gives her a covert nod, appreciative of the way she answered the question, and Tess doesn’t wait around for any further instructions. She makes her way back out to the court, finding a seat in the stands as Iowa and UConn warms up. Paige glances up, her eyes scanning the crowd absentmindedly as she dribbles, before she finally locates Tess. There’s thousands of people in the arena already, but Tess feels like she and Paige are the only ones in the room when she smiles at her. Tess gives her a thumbs up.

Once the game finally starts, Tess is on the edge of her seat for the entirety of it. She doesn’t think she’s ever been more invested in a game she wasn’t personally playing in. Even when she was on the bench spectating her teammates while her knee was healing, part of her just couldn’t get into it fully. She was thinking about the plays, visualizing the X’s and the O’s, pondering what she would have done differently, how she would have taken that shot. Watching Paige play feels like Tess is playing, too. Whether or not Paige wins or loses this match feels personal. Tess wants this so badly for her. They’ve both been dealt a shitty hand of cards, with Paige tearing her ACL the year before Tess and missing her junior season; then Tess tore her ACL and missed 95% of her senior season.

UConn is up 19-14 at the end of the first, but it’s a hard fought 5 point lead. By the end of the half, UConn maintains a steady 6 point deficit, leading 32-26 as they go into the locker room for a much needed break and some review. The third quarter rolls around quickly and the team takes their place on court once more. It’s a tense ten minutes. Iowa finally clears the deficit and they’re tied 51-51 going into the fourth. The fourth is where Iowa truly begins to break away, leading by as much as nine points before UConn clears the gap. With a three from Nika, they’ve cut the lead down to 1 with 40 seconds on the clock. With less than ten seconds remaining, KK pokes the ball out of Hannah Stuelke’s hands, and Tess rises to her feet, all of the blood rushing to her head as she watches on with an odd combination of hope and fear.

Nika brings the ball up, passing to Paige who hands it right back, circling around to draw her defender while Aaliyah sets a screen. Tess almost blacks out when she hears the whistle. Offensive foul on Edwards. The UConn fans surrounding her clamor in disbelief, booing loudly, and all she can do is watch, her hands over her head. Tess can’t believe it’s ending like this.

71-69, Iowa. Tess still hasn’t processed it, even after watching Paige and her teammates make their way to the locker room in defeat. She doesn’t process it when the team group chat lights up, discussing how Iowa is their official natty match. She doesn’t process it when Kamilla texts her personally, extending her condolences towards Paige, but what she does process is the second message from Kamilla reading, “Get them back.” She plans on it.

Tess’s thumbs hover over her keyboard ten minutes later, trying to figure out what to say to Paige. Tess has known Paige – personally – for almost a year, but she doesn’t know how to approach her. There’s nothing she can say or do that will take back the officiating, but as a competitor, too, she knows the game shouldn’t have come down to a call or free throws. She doesn’t know if Paige wants time alone right now or if she wants someone to lean on. Tess knows she has to at least try, although Paige beats her to it before she can put her jumbled thoughts into words.

I can see you typing It’s okay

Paige’s own text bubbles blur in and out for a moment, but Tess doesn’t send anything.

Can you come to my room? After press Please I’ll kick Ice out

i’ll be there

Thank you

Tess sends a single heart emoji back, not expecting a response, and she doesn’t get one. Her heart hurts for Paige. She just went through the toughest season of her life, and it ends like this. Tess wouldn’t be satisfied. She knows Paige isn’t. But right now, she needs a moment to rest, to decompress, to feel the loss instead of sitting and giving media-approved answers for 20 minutes.

Before Tess heads out to Paige’s hotel room, she swings by the nearest gas station first, stocking up on a bunch of candies, a drink for each of them, and a pint of ice cream. She’s unsure if Paige will have an appetite after the game, but it wouldn’t hurt. Once she’s paid and all of her groceries are in their bags, Tess makes her way to the hotel to wait.

Paige doesn’t keep her waiting for too long. Tess is lounging on the bed, eating Sour Patch Kids when the door unlocks with a click. Paige shuffles in, her bag slung over her shoulder, and the look on her face is all Tess needs to see. Wordlessly, Paige drops her bag on the ground and doesn’t even kick off her shoes before she’s crawling into the bed next to Tess, wrapping her arms around her waist and laying on top of her. Her hair is still a little damp when Tess undoes the hair tie, brushing her fingers through the blonde waves, dragging her fingertips against her scalp. Paige is tense against her but she relaxes as Tess stretches out, creating a little pocket for Paige to slot her legs against.

Paige is the first to break the silence. “D’you get those gummy cluster things?” she asks forlornly. Of all of the things Tess was expecting her to say, that was not one. She can’t help her surprised laughter.

“Of course I did,” she says, pressing her lips to Paige’s forehead. “They’re your favorite.” Paige doesn’t move, but she cranes her head, her ear directly over Tess’s heart. Her arms tighten around her. “I’m sorry,” Tess says after a while.

“It’s okay,” Paige says quietly. Her voice cracks. “Shoulda never come down to that. Calls, free throws, whatever.” Tess can’t help but smile a little bit, knowing that’s exactly what Paige would say. “Gonna be sore for a while but we’re gonna be there next year.”

“You will,” Tess promises. Paige shifts her head, looking up at Tess. The expression on her face is defeated, but Tess knows Paige well enough by now that she recognizes that fire, the spark of determination in her eyes. This is just a set-back. They did the impossible, damn it. Paige led them to the Final Four after coming back off of an injury, after losing most of the team to other injuries. Countless people said they wouldn’t be able to do it and Paige proved them wrong. “You’ll lead your team to the Final Four again next year. Tell Geno to recruit someone crazy from the portal. You’ll get some pretty good freshmen next year. You’ll win the Final Four, and you’re gonna come see me in the natty tournament ‘cause I’m not making that win easy for you. But you’re gonna lead them to that win and you’re gonna kick our ass. You, one of your crazy ass freshmen, and one of your sharpshooters – Ashlynn or Azzi. Maybe both. Then they’re gonna talk about us. Romeo & Juliet, Bueckers & Kennedy, cringy shit like that.”

At that, Paige can’t help her watery laughter, her eyes shining just a little brighter. “You think that’s happening?” Paige asks, amused. “I’on know if you can put your ego aside and lose like that.”

Tess raises her finger, grinning softly at Paige. “See, I’ve thought about it. Walk with me here.” Paige hums, rolling her eyes, but her expression is unbelievably fond as she gazes at Tess. “So, here’s us. February 8th, 2021. Our first game together. You kick my ass. Then every game we played since then, I kicked your ass. Now, it’s only full circle if you win the first and the last games we play against each other collegiately. It’s, like, written in the stars. But you’re not winning just ‘cause it’s fate, you win because you drop a nuke and you have that transfer portal weapon, your scary ass freshman, and your sharpshooters, like I said. For my other point – I know I always say ‘Tess Kennedy doesn’t lose twice!’ but hear me out. If I lose to you, I’m technically winning, because I have two natty rings, then my girlfriend has a natty ring, and then in like a couple years, my girlfriend’s gonna get me an actual ring because her natty win increases her draft stock, which means she goes to a professional team and makes the big bucks. Are you following?”

Paige shakes her head. “Not at all,” she murmurs, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to Tess’s lips. Tess can’t help but smile, reciprocating, their kiss deep and unhurried until Tess remembers where they are.

She draws back, her brows furrowed. “Wait, are you for real?” she asks indignantly. “I just mapped out the next five years of our lives and you weren’t even listening?”

Paige huffs in amusement. “Little hard to focus ‘cause you basically said you wanna marry me.”

Tess clamps her mouth shut, flushing. She did say that, didn’t she? “Well,” Tess says slowly. “That’s not my main point. Unless you want it to be. But even if you do, it’s not–”

“Tess,” Paige laughs, getting serious. “You wanna?” Her voice is softer now, her eyes firmly on Tess’s.

Her blush deepens and she tilts her head back, sighing. “It’s early, I know,” she concedes. “So I know that probably freaked you out. I wasn’t thinking.”

“Not what I asked,” Paige reminds her, grinning mischievously at her. “Do you wanna?”

“I feel like I’ve known you forever,” is what Tess says instead, and Paige’s smile grows a little more adoring. “I know it’s technically only been two months officially, which makes me sound like a loser when I say it out loud. It feels like so much longer than that, though. I’ve been into you since June but honestly, I was probably into you from the start. So, I guess, yeah. I would. But like super far from now. You need to worry about kicking my ass in the championship. Then you gotta get drafted. Then you can see if I even like you in like five years from now.”

“Five years is good enough for me,” Paige says softly, leaning up to kiss Tess again. It’s gentle, tooth-achingly sweet, and feels more like a promise than anything else. When she draws back, she’s smiling at Tess. “So, you and me next year? Don’t throw the game or I’ll be mad at you forever.”

Tess scoffs. “I would never do that shit. That’s an insult to you and me. But we’re gonna be there and you’re just gonna kick our ass. And I won’t even be mad because I’ll have everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Yeah?” Paige murmurs. “What’s that?”

“I’ve got my rings,” she says. “I mean, I’ll have my rings plural on Sunday because now I gotta get revenge on Iowa for last year and revenge on behalf of you. We’re a package deal now.”

Paige snorts affectionately. “Are we?”

Tess hums in confirmation, trying not to think too much about the lovestruck expression on Paige’s face. “So, I have my rings. I’ll cement my name in the Gamecock record books. I’ll get drafted – probably at number two, but that just means my team will suck just a little less than yours.” Paige laughs again as Tess throws up her finger in an ‘L’ shape. “But, I have you, too, now. You weren’t part of the plan. I was just supposed to ball, break some records, get drafted, do my thing.” Tess glances down, fully looking at Paige now, whose eyes are full of amusement, wonder, and warmth. “I’m glad you happened, though. I get to ball and be your girl, which I guess is a much better plan.”

“You guess?” Paige croons. Tess shakes her head, horrendously in love as Paige plants a chaste kiss on her lips, grinning against her. “‘M glad I get to ball and be yours, too. None of that I guess bullshit because I’m not ashamed of bein’ in love like you are.”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Don’t put words in my mouth, asshole. You know I love you.”

Paige’s expression turns tender, unashamedly in love as she’d said. Tess can’t help the sudden cartwheels that her heart does at the sight. “I do,” she murmurs, kissing Tess again, slow, soft, lingering. “I love you, too. So much. Thank you for bein’ here.”

“Of course,” Tess whispers, smiling at her. “I wouldn’t be anywhere else.”

And she wouldn’t. Her teammates are out celebrating their Final Four win before their next game on Sunday. She could be with them, watching film, doing more scouting, knowing that she has something to prove. But she knows she’s capable. Her teammates and coaches know she’s capable. Paige knows she’s capable, so for now, she doesn’t care about what game they’re playing on Sunday, who they’re playing, why they’re playing. She’s with Paige right now. As far as she’s concerned, nothing else matters but her. It can all wait for tomorrow.

APRIL 7, 2024

Tess is certain she’s never been more focused in her entire life. She was first on court for warmups, airpods in as she worked on her handles, footwork, and shooting. Paige even showed up shortly after she did with many of her teammates in tow – Aaliyah, Nika, KK, Ice, Ashlynn, to name a few, but Tess locked back in on her warm ups after sharing a private smile with Paige. They had plenty of time to stare at each other once Tess finished wiping the floor with Iowa.

With her warmup playlist blasting in her ears, Tess zones back in on the ball, working her way through her drills. She only pauses to stretch when her teammates start flowing in along with the coaching staff and trainers. As much as she’d prefer to be shooting right now, she takes the stretching seriously, knowing she needs to be loose for the upcoming match. There’s only an hour left before tipoff, but each and every second is spent crossing up the poor practice boys who honestly weren’t expecting Tess to be so ruthless, shooting from increasingly further distances behind the line, and working on her drives. She remembers what Paige had told her so long ago – the fake drives, the tendency to shoot purely from behind the line. She was confident Iowa would have one of their better defenders on her to shut down her three-point shooting, which is why she was going to make a conscious effort to take more drives into the paint.

Before player introductions and the starting line-ups are announced, Coach Staley grabs her by her bicep after she pulls her shirt over her head, leaving her in her jersey. “I know this game means a lot to you,” Coach Staley says, unwavering in her firm eye contact. “Don’t let it consume you. Play smart, or your ass is gonna spend the game on the bench.”

Tess nods, refocusing. “Got it,” she promises. Her coach searches her eyes before nodding, releasing her. Then, starting lineups are finally introduced with Tess gaining a round of applause that nearly rivals Caitlin’s. The two teams line up for tip-off, and soon, the game is underway. Kamilla wins the opening tip, sending it back to Chloe who passes to Raven who directs traffic to her liking. The ball is sent back to Chloe, who can’t finish at the rim, and Kate Martin scoops up the rebound. At their end of the court, Iowa passes the ball with quickness until it lands back in Kate’s hands and she knocks down the three.

Raven brings the ball up court and it bounces between Chloe, Tess, Kamilla, and then Tess once more as she steps back behind Kamilla, shooting the ball cleanly over her head for a three, tying the game. Iowa brings the ball down with Hannah trying a lay-up, although she misses, and the ball goes the other direction as quickly as it had left. Raven brings it up, but Te-Hina is a little too strong on her jumper. At the other end of the court, Kate’s two-point shot is good, totaling 5 points for Iowa to South Carolina’s 3. Kamilla’s layup is off, but Iowa’s isn’t, pushing the lead to 7-3.

It was cute at first, although Tess isn’t impressed. She didn’t rehab her knee just to trail Iowa 7-3 in the first two minutes of the national championship match. She’ll apologize to Coach Staley later, but if her teammates want to play the “run up and down the court” game, then she’ll play the “shoot the ball and score” game. She’s never this irritated at the beginning – you have to let it develop, but there’s too much riding on it to lose so early. She told Caitlin she was coming for her back in May. She basically promised Paige she’d win today, and Kamilla told her to get them back. She promised herself she’d get them back. The only way this game is ending is with Tess wearing that stupid hat for the second time.

Raven brings the ball up again, passing to Kamilla, but she’s instantly swarmed and she kicks the ball back out to Tess, waiting patiently at the wing. Caitlin’s guarding her. She watches film as much as Tess does, which is why Tess presses for the drive, faking a hesitancy that Caitlin immediately picks up on, but she commits to it at the last moment when Caitlin missteps. Tess takes it to the basket, laying it in easily, but she doesn’t spare it a second glance as she gets back on defense. Judging by the explosion of the crowd, she knows it’s gone in. At 7-5, Tess is on Caitlin like glue, getting a hand in her face and causing her two-point attempt to sail out of bounds. She hardly reacts as they inbound it. Caitlin tries to shake her off before she gets her hands back on the ball, but Tess is planted firmly. Eventually, the ball is passed to Caitlin, but Tess anticipates the step-back and swats the ball away, landing in the hands of one of her teammates. They bring it up, passing to Tess who passes immediately to Kamilla and she banks in the layup, tying the game.

While Caitlin’s bringing it up, Tess honestly expects her to pass, so she’s slow on trying to block Caitlin’s three-point attempt, which results in Tess fouling her and Caitlin being awarded three free throw attempts. A mistake on Tess’s part – Coach would get her for that later, but she extends her hands out to Caitlin to help her up. “That was for the knee,” she jokes. Caitlin huffs in amusement, though Tess taps her chest as she returns to the huddle. Caitlin makes all three shots, taking back the lead with 10-7.

The first quarter continues in a steady back and forth. Te-Hina lands a three, Caitlin responds with a layup, Kamilla misses a two-pointer. On Iowa’s next possession, Tess gets a hand in there and steals the ball from her, sprinting down to their end of the court and laying the ball in on the fastbreak. Tied 12-12, Caitlin’s bringing the ball back up and Tess is on her until Chloe calls for her to switch. With Tess now on Kate and Chloe guarding Caitlin, Chloe knocks the ball out of her hands, though one of Caitlin’s teammates secures it, lobbing it back to Caitlin, who shoots for the three and is fouled by Chloe. Tess hopes there’s not a camera honed in on her expression because there would be think pieces published about how Tess has beef with Chloe Kitts, and honestly, she might start because what the fuck was that? Tess can’t complain too much since she fouled Caitlin the same way. Everyone just needs to get in the weight room and grow a pair – all of this falling down is getting pretty embarrassing. Caitlin makes two of her three shots, and Tess is subbed out after both Chloe and Kate miss their layups.

Tess doesn’t enter the game until there’s a minute and a half left of the first quarter and the scores have evened out. Tess’s two point jumper is good when she subs back in, tallying the total 22-20 in favor of Iowa. Caitlin makes a layup, Tess responds with a three-pointer, and one last three-point shot from Iowa seals the first quarter after Tessa Johnson misses her own three.

Tess returns to the bench to prepare for the second quarter. That honestly felt like the longest ten minutes of basketball that she’s ever played before. So far, Tess has tallied 12 points, one assist, one block, and one steal. Iowa has a slim four point lead at 27-23, though Coach Staley is already drawing up some second quarter adjustments. She moves Raven to defend Caitlin and the really specific instruction of, “Pass Tess the ball” is incredibly helpful and motivating.

From then out, it’s an entirely new game. Raven’s defense is suffocating and she holds Caitlin to only three points in the second quarter. Their offense shifts with most of the point production coming from Kate, Hannah, and one single three-pointer from Sydney. South Carolina outscores them 26-19 in the second quarter, and going into halftime, South Carolina holds a slim 3-point lead at 49-46.

The third quarter passes similarly. Raven holds Caitlin to four points, South Carolina outscores Iowa 19-13, and they’ve increased the deficit to 9, leading the game with 68-59. Tess has slowed down after the first quarter. Her job is to remain consistent, and so far, she has. Her first foul on Caitlin was a mistake – Coach Staley warned her about letting it consume her, but she was too worried about trying to destroy the point gap after Iowa outscored them in the first. With 12 points in the first, 7 in the second, and a calm 6 in the third, Tess heads into the last quarter of the game with 25 points.

In the fourth, Tess gets her 30, scoring only five points in the three minutes she plays but doing a lot more defensively. Coach Staley subs her in for Bree once more and she returns to the bench, receiving a convincing round of applause. She can’t help but smile as she sits, feeling accomplished – if you’d asked her in May, she never would have thought she’d be back here after tearing her ACL. She would have wondered if you were the one high off anesthesia if you told her she had to fake date Paige Bueckers, and she honestly wouldn’t have believed you either if you told her that she’d fall in love with Paige Bueckers, either – but life has a incredibly strange way of working. She trusts her teammates to secure the win and her confidence grows as they keep increasing the gap.

They know they’ve won once all of the starters return to the bench with applause. The final buzzer is only formality and Tess quickly gets lost in the celebration, cheering with her teammates, accepting the corny ass hats, and taking picture after picture with the glimmering trophy. But she grows tired of it quickly – at this point, winning had simply felt like a job she needed to do, as terrible as it sounds. She cared more about proving herself after her injury. As much as she wants to joke about it being a revenge game, it never was – not for herself, not for Paige. Neither of them are keen on revenge, more focused on getting better and taking the win for themselves, for the teammates, for all of the hard work they poured into training to get here. Part of her really wants to celebrate for Paige. Tess wouldn’t be here without here, but Paige would tell her that’s not true. She knows this moment is for her and her team, for the players leaving, for the younger players with the hope of a repeat next year. So she soaks it all in, trying to relish in the win.

Once it all dies down, she ducks back into the tunnel, looking forward to a hot shower so she can get through the subsequent presser. The quicker she’s in bed, the better, but her plan derails again when she finds Paige, alone, leaning against the wall across from the locker room. The blonde’s smile grows when she spots Tess. She lengthens her strides, falling into Paige’s open arms with a startling swiftness. Tess knows she’s gross and sweaty, but Paige doesn’t seem to care, the scent of her cologne making her head spin. “Congrats, Tess,” she whispers, her voice reverent and soft. She leans back to look at her with a mischievous expression. “30 points? Who you showin’ out for?”

Tess rolls her eyes. “Please shut up,” she says, not letting Paige say anything else as she pulls her down a few inches, capturing her lips in her own. Tess knows that this win should mean more to her….but it doesn’t. It’s a national championship win, her second of her collegiate career, and she just dropped 30 points on a tough opponent. She worked her ass off to get here. She spent several months in rehab, several weeks trying to get over the alcohol dependence, and an uncomfortably long time trying to figure out how to love herself and others when she was at her lowest. And she knows it’s corny, that she sounds horrendously down bad, but she feels more like a winner in Paige’s arms than she did holding up that fucking trophy.

Paige draws her in by her waist, eliminating the space between them completely, tilting her head for better access and Tess can’t help but give in to her. This is what she worked so incredibly hard for. She worked hard to be able to play basketball again – and she did. She worked hard to be the kind of person that Paige Bueckers deserves – and, well, the jury’s still out on that one, but Paige loves her, so maybe she’s doing something right. Paige smiles against her, one hand reaching up to cup Tess’s cheek, deliberately slowing them down. Their kiss turns more tender, unhurried, and Tess can feel the remnants of it down to her toes when Paige pulls back, squeezing her gently. “You and me, same time next year?” Paige murmurs.

At that, Tess can’t help but laugh. She presses one last kiss to Paige’s lips, feeling her smile grow as she promises, “Same time next year.”

[doctorbitchcrxft]

Phantom Traveler | Supernatural Series Rewrite | Dean Winchester x Reader

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader (Eventual)

Warnings: canon violence, canon gore, namecalling, typical Dean and reader

Word Count: 8289

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You were sound asleep, curled up into yourself when a knock on the door brought you out of your slumber. 

“(Y/N)?”

‘Sam.’

“I got coffee, thought you could use some,” he called through the door.

You pushed yourself up out of the bed as you yawned, and walked over to the door of your motel room to open it for Sam. 

“Dude, you realize it’s six in the morning, right?” You scratched your head as you let Sam into the room.

“You sound like my brother.”

You playfully glared at him. “Don’t compare me to him.”

“Here.” He handed you a coffee and a bag of what you assumed was a pastry.

“Thanks,” you replied, sitting on your bed with your stuff in hand. 

Sam sat on the chair across from you. “Still haven’t warmed up to Dean, huh?” 

“Well, he hasn’t exactly warmed up to me,” you reminded him, thinking of the fight you got into yesterday over his reckless driving.

“Guess that’s true,” he conceded. “It’s weird, though, you guys are so much more alike than you let on.”

“Tell that to him. He started it.” You took a big bite of your pastry.

“Seriously?” Sam laughed, “ ‘He started it’?”

You shrugged, smirking. 

He seemed to remember his original intention behind disturbing your slumber. “Hey, he found a case, though.” 

“Oh, yeah? What’s up?” You licked the pastry cream off your thumb.

“We don’t know. The guy on the phone didn’t say.” Sam raised his coffee cup to his lips.

“Guy on the phone?” You took a sip of your coffee as you let Sam answer.

“Yeah. Some guy my dad and Dean worked a case for a while back’s got another one for us. He called Dean.”

“Ah—” you nodded, “—gotcha. So, where’s he live?”

“Pennsylvania,” Sam responded. 

“Okay, not too far,” you noted. “I’ll be ready in fifteen.”

***

“Thanks for making the trip so quick,” a short older man named Jerry told you and the boys. “I ought to be doing you guys a favor, not the other way around. Dean and your dad really helped me out.”

You were walking beside Sam as you followed behind the man who was having you do this job. You were being led through a warehouse past planes as well as their parts and people hard at work.

“Yeah, he told me. It was a poltergeist?” Sam asked the older man.

Someone walking in front of your group was eavesdropping on you. “Poltergeist? Man, I loved that movie.”

“Hey, nobody's talking to you. Keep walking,” Jerry stated authoritatively to the man. He turned his attention back to the conversation. “Damn right it was a poltergeist, practically tore our house apart.” He addressed Dean. “Tell you something, if it wasn't for you and your dad, I probably wouldn't be alive. Your dad said you were off at college. Is that right?” He’d turned to Sam.

“Yeah, I was. I'm— taking some time off,” Sam explained.

“Well, he was real proud of you. I could tell. He talked about you all the time.”

“He did?” Knowing what you knew about Sam’s relationship with his dad, you found this surprising, too.

“Yeah, you bet he did,” Jerry nodded. “Oh, hey, you know I tried to get a hold of him, but I couldn't. How's he doing, anyway?”

“He's, um, wrapped up in a job right now,” Dean lied. 

“Well, we're missing the old man, but we get Sam and— what’s your name again?” he asked you.

“(Y/N).”

“(Y/N). Even trade, huh?”

“Eh, I wouldn’t say that,” you laughed.

“Say, (Y/N), how’d you get wrapped up with these two?” Jerry asked.

“Oh, uh—” you began, searching for an abridged version of the truth, “—I met them on a hunt in California. They decided to drag me along with them.”

“Well, I’m glad you’re here. The guys are gonna need backup with this one,” Jerry said. 

“Why?” 

He did not give a direct answer to your question. “I got something I want you guys to hear.”

He led you to his office where you and Sam took the two chairs and Dean stood behind his brother.

”I listened to this. And, well, it sounded like it was up your alley,” Jerry stated, putting a CD into a drive. “Normally I wouldn't have access to this. It's the cockpit voice recorder for United Britannia flight 2485. It was one of ours.”

A frantic voice immediately rang out from the speaker as soon as the recording started. “Mayday! Mayday! Repeat! This is United Britannia 2485—” the recording cut out with a static sound, “—immediate instruction help! United Britannia 2485, I copy your message—” and cut out again, “—May be experiencing some mechanical failure—” and then cut out one last time. The man’s voice was completely drowned out by static, whooshing, and growling sounds.

“Took off from here, crashed about two hundred miles south,” Jerry continued. “Now, they're saying mechanical failure. Cabin depressurized somehow. Nobody knows why. Over a hundred people on board. Only seven got out alive. Pilot was one. His name is Chuck Lambert. He's a good friend of mine. Chuck is, uh… well, he's pretty broken up about it. Like it was his fault.”

“You don't think it was?” Sam questioned him.

“No, I don't.”

“Jerry, we're gonna need passenger manifests, um, a list of survivors,” Sam listed.

“Alright,” the man replied.

“And, uh, any way we can take a look at the wreckage?” Dean inquired.

“The other stuff is no problem. But the wreckage… guys— and gal— the NTSB has it locked down in an evidence warehouse. No way I've got that kind of clearance.” Jerry shook his head.

You frowned.

“No problem,” Dean declared.

You gave him a questioning look to which he shrugged off.

***

“How fucking long does it take to make a fake ID?” you groaned, falling back across the backseat of the Impala. You and Sam had found a way to isolate the EVP on Sam’s computer, having gotten a copy of the tape from Jerry.

“I don’t know,” Sam responded. “But I’m gonna lose it if it’s much longer.”

“Same here.” At that moment, Dean walked out of the Copy Jack the Impala was sitting in front of as a pretty woman walked into the store. They greeted each other before Dean walked over to you and his brother.

“Dude,” you started, “You’ve been in there forever.”

“Wah-wah,” he whined, mocking you. “You can’t rush perfection.” He held up three IDs.

“Homeland Security?” Sam questioned as he took one of the IDs. “That's pretty illegal, even for us.”

“Yeah, well, it's something new. You know? People haven't seen it a thousand times,” Dean pointed out as he got into the car.

“Alright, so, what do you got?” Dean asked his brother as he flicked your ID back at you. It hit you square in the side of the head. 

“Dude, really?” you hissed, aggravation clear in your tone.

“Shh,” the older Winchester hushed you as he waited for Sam to answer.

“Well, there's definitely EVP on the cockpit voice recorder,” Sam explained.

“Yeah?”

“Listen.”

The isolated voice of what you were dealing with came through the recording scratchy and backed by demonic growling sounds. “No survivors!”

“ ’No survivors’?” Dean asked. “What's that supposed to mean? There were seven survivors.”

You shrugged.

Dean let out a sigh. “So, what are we thinking? A haunted flight?” 

“There's a long history of spirits and death omens on planes and ships, like phantom travelers,” Sam began.

Dean hummed in affirmation. “Or remember flight 401?”

“Right. The one that crashed, the airline salvaged some of its parts, put it in other planes, then the spirit of the pilot and copilot haunted those flights.”

“I don’t know, guys,” you stated skeptically. “Ghost just doesn’t feel right.”

“Well, thanks for your optimism, sunshine,” Dean quipped.

“It’s not about optimism, you asshole, it’s about being right and dealing with whatever we’re up against properly,” you pushed back.

“Know-it-all,” the older Winchester replied. 

“Fuck off, Winchester.”

He let out a breath and turned his attention back to the case.“Alright, so, survivors, which one do you want to talk to first?”

"Third on the list: Max Jaffey,” you said.

“I wasn’t talking to you, but why him?”

You glared at Dean. “Because if anybody saw something weird, he did. I talked to his mom while you were spending forever in the store. She said some pretty weird shit and told me where to find him. He was so screwed up, he checked himself into the hospital.”

***

You and the Winchesters walked beside Max Jaffey, who hobbled on a cane, through the Riverfront Psychiatric Hospital’s garden. 

“I don't understand. I already spoke with Homeland Security,” Max told your trio.

“Right. Some new information has come up,” Dean lied. “So if you could just answer a couple questions...”

“Just before the plane went down, did you notice anything… unusual?” Sam questioned.

Max looked confused. “Like what?”

“Strange lights, weird noises, maybe. Voices,” Dean offered. 

“No, nothing.”

Seeing as no one was getting anywhere with this investigation, you tried your hand at it. “Mr. Jaffey, you checked yourself in here, right?”

He nodded at you.

“Why?”

“Uh, I was a little stressed,” he said sarcastically. “I survived a plane crash.”

“Uh-huh,” you nodded. “And that’s what scared you? That’s what screwed you up so badly?”

You could tell you were close to the answers you were after as he swallowed uncomfortably. “I— I don't want to talk about this anymore.”

“I know, but I also know you saw something up there,” you continued. “We need to know what.”

“No.” Max shook his head. “No, I was… delusional. Seeing things.”

“He was seeing things,” Dean half-mocked him.

You shot a warning glance at Dean, hoping to get him to shut up. 

“It's okay,” you coaxed. “Just tell us what you thought you saw, please.”

“There was… this—man. And, uh, he had these… eyes—these, uh, black eyes. And I saw him—or I thought I saw him...” he trailed off, stopping as he recounted the events.

“What?” Dean asked.

“He opened the emergency exit,” Max explained. “But that's— that's impossible, right? I mean, I looked it up. There's something like two tons of pressure on that door.”

“Yeah,” Dean confirmed, clearly confused. 

“This man, uh, did he seem to appear and disappear rapidly? It would look something like a mirage?” Sam asked.

Max quirked his head at the younger Winchester. “What are you, nuts? He was a passenger. He was sitting right in front of me.”

***

“I think we can rule out phantom traveler,” you noted as you got out of the car in front of the Phelps’s house. You were going to visit the wife of George Phelps, the man who opened the emergency exit. 

“Why?” Dean asked.

“You heard Jaffey. He said the dude had black eyes. Opened a fucking emergency exit on his own. ‘Black eyes’ points me to demon.”

Dean’s eyes widened. “Demons?”

“I mean, it makes sense,” Sam shrugged. “He could be a demon. He might be some kind of a creature, too, in human form.”

“Does that look like a creature's lair to you?” Dean questioned as he gestured toward the house that was representative of the essence of suburban houses. From its beautiful garden to the cobblestone steps to the beige paint coating the outside of the two-story building.

Sam shrugged and began leading your trio up the steps of the house. 

Once inside, you three sat across from Mrs. Phelps on the couch while she sat in an armchair. 

Sam picked a picture of Mrs. Phelps and an older man up off of the side table. “This is your late husband?” he asked.

“Yes, that was my George.”

“And you said he was a dentist?” Dean questioned. 

She hummed in affirmation. “He was headed to a convention in Denver. Do you know that he was petrified to fly? For him to go like that...”

Sam asked another question. “How long were you married?”

“Thirteen years.”

You could tell Sam was contemplating how to ask his next question. “In all that time, did you ever notice anything… strange about him; anything out of the ordinary?”

She paused for a moment. “Well, uh, he had acid reflux, if that's what you mean.”

You nodded, clicking your tongue. “I think that’s all we have for you, Mrs. Phelps. Thank you for your time.”

She showed all of you out, and you piped up as you walked down the stairs outside of the house. 

“Demon’s sounding more and more correct all the time,” you smiled, trying to joke around.

“Jesus, you’re annoying,” Dean groaned.

“And you’re a misogynistic dick that can’t handle women with brains,” you responded. 

“What, are we gonna duke this out now?” Dean stopped by the door of the car, facing you. 

You stood by the backseat’s door. “You started it,” you taunted childishly, crossing your arms over your chest as you stared back at him. 

“Really?” he leered. “You’re gonna pull that card? Mature.”

“You act like you’re any better.”

“Guys—” Sam tried to cut in, but Dean continued to fight with you. 

“You’re such a bitch.”

“Wow, haven’t heard that one before,” you drawled.

“Guys! You can fight later. Wrong place, wrong time to sort this out,” Sam chastised you and Dean like you were children.

You got in the car and slammed the door behind you.

“Don’t hurt my baby ‘cause you’re pissed,” Dean scolded you as he started to pull the car away. 

“Just drive, asshole,” you grumbled in frustration as you slumped down in your seat. The rest of the car ride to the local outlet mall was silent.

***

You had never felt more confident. Despite the fact that you could have worn the one dress you already had to pose as homeland security, you decided to treat yourself to a new outfit to distract from your aggravation with Dean. 

The boys had gone to a suit shop called “Mort’s for Style,” and you went into a dress shop called “Betsy’s.” It was a cute little shop with a lot of great dress and pantsuit options.

You had picked out a navy blue pantsuit. You wore a white button-up underneath the blazer with the top two buttons undone to accentuate your breasts. The blazer was unbuttoned, and the high-waisted, straight-legged pants you wore matched the black color of your blazer. With the white button-up tucked into your pants and the small amount of makeup you threw on to draw attention to your eyes and lips, you felt good. 

Once you had paid for your clothing, you walked out of the shop and back to the Impala. Surprisingly, the boys were not there waiting for you. 

You leaned your back against the car, picking out the grit from under your nails.

You looked up when you heard Dean’s voice. “Man, I look like one of the Blues Brothers.” 

Both of the boys were dressed in sharp, black suits. You almost lost your breath at the sight of Dean, but fought yourself to keep your composure. You would not give him the satisfaction of knowing you found him attractive. 

“No, you don't,” Sam told him. “You look more like a seventh-grader at his first dance.”

You laughed at the younger brother’s jeer. “What took you girls so long?” you asked once you got in the Impala. “I thought you two would’ve beat me out the store by a long shot.”

“Dean wouldn’t leave the dressing room,” Sam said dryly.

“Seriously?” you droned.

You and Sam both looked to Dean, who did not answer immediately. When he finally spoke, he complained, “I hate this thing.”

“Hey,” Sam stared. “You want into that warehouse or not?”

Dean rolled his eyes as he continued to drive along.

You steeled your nerves as your black, pointed-toe pumps clicked across the warehouse floor. Your trio was headed to the security guard that would allow you in to see the wreckage.

You held the clipboard you had stowed in your bag close to your chest, acting as some sort of a recorder for the boys. The three of you flashed your badges at the security guard, who nodded and allowed you into the hangar where the wreckage was being kept.

There was a large map of what the plane should look like painted onto the floor, and the parts that corresponded to the different portions of the map were laid in their proper spots. There were wires hung on fences and broken interior parts of the plane laid on tables. The most heartbreaking things for you to look at were the torn passengers’ seats because most of the people who had been in them were now dead.

You looked over at Dean, who had earbuds in and was moving a small box over the tops of the wreckage.

“What’s that?” you asked him.

“It's an EMF meter. Reads electromagnetic frequencies.”

You got closer to him, noticing what the object appeared to be. “I know what an EMF meter is; I’m not stupid. But why does that one look like a busted-up walkman?”

“ 'Cause that's what I made it out of. It's homemade,” he grinned.

“Yeah, I can see that,” you quipped. 

His grin disappeared. “Bitch.”

“Dick.”

You once again fought the pain in your chest when he called you a bitch. In all honesty, you thought his homemade EMF meter was cute. However, you were too far gone in your war with him to surrender now.

Dean ran the Walkman over a piece of the wreckage with black spores and yellow dust on it. You could hear the faint sound of a spike on the meter through Dean’s headphones.

“Check out the emergency door handle,” Dean called to Sam. 

Sam came over to where you and Dean stood as the older brother scratched at the dust to get some on his hand.

“What is this stuff?” Dean asked.

One way to find out.” You saw the younger of the two brothers start scraping some of the dust into a small bag.

“We need to go,” you told the boys. You weren’t sure what told you that, but you just suddenly felt unsettled. The hairs on the back of your neck stood at attention, and every muscle in your body tensed. You started off toward the exit in the back of the warehouse. 

“Wait, (Y/N), what if we’re missin’ something?” Dean questioned, clearly aggravated you were ready to ditch already.

“Too bad, we gotta go.” You kept walking toward the exit, making it out of the door and around the backside of the building. 

At that moment, an alarm started blaring through the area surrounding the warehouse.

You turned around to look at the boys as you gloated, “I’m not gonna say, ‘I told you so’!“ Not bothering to rip your shoes off of your feet, you took off running to the gated exit. 

Sam and Dean were quick to follow you and soon passed you up. The older brother took off his suit jacket and threw it over the barbed wire at the top of the fence. You did the same with your blazer. After quickly taking off your pumps to avoid hurting yourself when you jumped from the top of the gate, you threw yourself over the fence. The other two did the same.

Sam grabbed your blazer that you were too small to reach from the top of the fence as Dean found it within himself to remark, “Well, these monkey suits do come in handy.”

You ran after the two boys, heels and blazer in hand as the jagged rocks in the cement cut into your feet. As soon as you shut the door to the car, Dean slammed on the gas pedal.

He tore out of the warehouse’s parking lot, speeding down the road to head toward Jerry’s workplace. 

"(Y/N),” Sam started, turning in his seat to face you with a curious expression on his face, “how did you know that?”

“Honestly, I don’t know. My intuition’s just always been pretty sharp.” You were being honest; there had been a few times on hunts previously when you’d known it was time to get the hell out of dodge.

“Hm.” You could tell Dean still didn’t trust you.

“Dude, I don’t know what else to tell you. That’s the truth,” you countered. “I’ve been helping you guys with your dad for almost two months now, and you still don’t trust me. I don’t know what more to do for you.”

“Maybe because I don’t know you,” he responded, never taking his eyes off the road. 

“Maybe if you tried to know me, you’d find it a little easier to trust me,” you answered.

“Not interested,” came Dean’s grumbled response.

You tried your best to ignore the pang that went through your chest once more. “Of course not.”

***

You refused to speak to or even look at Dean; your frustration with the fact that he had no desire to know you and his general existence boiling to the surface. You could feel his stare burning into the side of your head as you focused on Jerry, who sat in front of you. He was looking through a microscope on his desk at the yellow dust Sam had collected.

“Huh,” Jerry remarked. “This stuff is covered in sulfur.”

“You're sure?” Sam asked.

“Take a look for yourself,” Jerry offered, getting up from behind the desk so Sam could take his place. 

Banging sounds along with a string of curse words caught your ear as Jerry sighed. 

“If you guys will excuse me, I have an idiot to fire,” he dryly stated, walking out of the office.

You got up from the chair you were sitting in next to Dean. “See?” you started excitedly, gesturing toward the sulfur, “Demons.”

“That would explain how one guy had the strength to open up the emergency exit,” Sam added.

“This goes way beyond floating over a bed or barfing pea soup. I mean it's one thing to possess a person, but to use them to take down an entire airplane?” Dean put his hands on his hips as he stood. “You ever heard of something like this before?” 

Sam looked over at his brother, who responded, “Never.”

“Well, I have,” you said simply.

They both looked to you to continue.

“In NYC a couple years back. Some cabbies had gotten possessed and were takin’ girls left and right.”

“Those were demons?” Sam asked, standing up from behind Jerry’s desk. “That was a huge deal on the news while I was at Stanford. Police thought it was a serial killer. You took ‘em on all by yourself?”

“I’m a big girl, Sam,” you chuckled. “I can handle a few demons. But, yeah, that was me. That was probably the toughest case I’ve ever been on. Finding where those demons had taken those girls after they drugged them in the cabs... where they were raped and murdered...” You shook your head, your cheery expression gone. 

“I’m sorry you had to see that,” Sam told you gently. 

Your eyes were glued to the floor, hands on your hips with not a bit of life in your voice as you muttered, “All in a day’s work.”

Sam had asked you to tell him and Dean everything you knew about demons once you got back to the Winchesters’ motel room. Sam sat at the table close to the window while Dean sat on the bed closest to his brother. You stood in front of the two as you spoke.

“Demons exist in every religion in every world culture. With the ones that I was dealing with up in New York, they were most similar to Incubi from early Christian religion. Incubi raped sleeping girls. These demons drugged the girls to put them to sleep, then they raped them, and then they murdered them. What I’m thinking for these demons is that they’re most similar to certain Japanese demons. I had to look into these when I was trying to figure out how to kill the NYC demons. The Japanese believe demons cause certain disasters, whether it be natural or man-made. Some cause earthquakes, others cause disease—”

“And this one causes plane crashes?” Dean deadpanned, cutting you off.

You ignored him. “Demons are having to find new ways to ratchet up the body count. Like with me in New York, Incubi can’t go about their old methods anymore. This demon probably evolved with the times like the Incubi did, and so it figured plane crashes were the best way to get its job done.”

Dean snorted, getting up from. the bed and turning away from you and his brother.

“What?” Sam asked.

He turned around, scratching the back of his neck. “I don't know, man. This isn't our normal gig. I mean, demons, they don't want anything, just death, and destruction for its own sake. This is big. And I wish Dad was here.”

“Yeah. Me too,” the younger Winchester admitted.

Dean’s phone rang, and he answered it. “Hello?... Oh, hey, Jerry… Wha— Jerry, I'm sorry. What happened?... Where'd this happen?... I'll try to ignore the irony in that… Nothing. Jerry, hang in there, all right? We'll catch up with you soon.”

He hung up the phone. 

“Another crash?” Sam questioned, already knowing the answer.

“Yeah. Let's go.”

“Where?”

“Nazareth.” 

‘Ah, there’s the irony.’

***

After leaving the horrendous scene of Chuck’s plane crash, you and the boys went back to Jerry’s office. Once again, Jerry confirmed that the dust you had taken from the steering wheel of Chuck’s plane was, in fact, sulfur. 

“Well, that's great,” Dean sassed. “Alright, that's two plane crashes involving Chuck Lambert. This demon sounds like it was after him.”

“If that's the case, that would be the good news,” you chimed in. You looked up to the sky, addressing the pilot. “No offense, Chuck.”

“What's the bad news?” Jerry asked you.

“Chuck's plane went down exactly forty minutes into the flight, just like 2485,” you informed the older man.

“Forty minutes?” Chuck inquired. “What does that mean?”

“It's biblical numerology. You know Noah's ark, it rained for forty days. The number means death,” Dean said.

“I went back, and there have been six plane crashes over the last decade that all went down exactly forty minutes in,” Sam explained.

"Any survivors?” the older Winchester questioned his brother.

“No. Or not until now, at least, not until flight 2485, for some reason.” Sam turned to you after thinking for a moment. “On the cockpit voice recorder, remember what the EVP said?”

“ ‘No survivors,’ “ you realized. “It's going after all the survivors. It's trying to finish the job.”

Dean drove the Impala down an empty highway. 

Sam was on the phone with one of the survivors from the plane crash, the conversation almost over. “Really? Well, thank you for taking our survey, And if you do plan to fly, please don't forget your friends at United Britannia Airlines. Thanks.” He hung up the phone. “All right. That takes care of Blaine Sanderson and Dennis Holloway. They're not flying anytime soon.”

“That leaves the flight attendant, Amanda Walker,” you commented.

“Right. Her sister Karen said her flight leaves Indianapolis at eight P.M. It's her first night back on the job,” Sam told you and his brother. 

“That sounds like just our luck,” Dean grumbled.

“Dean, this is a five-hour drive, man, even with you behind the wheel,” Sam said worriedly.

“Call Amanda's cellphone again, see if we can't head her off at the pass,” Dean tried.

“I already left her three voice messages. She must have turned her cellphone off.”

“God, we're never gonna make it,” you shook your head, leaning back in the seat as you scrubbed a hand through your hair.

“We'll make it,” the older brother countered, slamming his foot on the gas. 

Somehow, someway, Dean had managed to get to the airport at ten minutes to seven. 

You jumped up out of the car, taking your gun out of your pants and stashing it under the backseat.

“What are you doing?” 

You still did not feel like talking to Dean but answered him shortly nonetheless. “We’re going into an airport.”

Dean finally caught onto what you meant and took all of his weapons off of him, too. “I feel naked.”

You fought the smile threatening to creep up your face.

You rushed into the airport just behind the boys, squeezing your way through the crowd of people to get to the departure board.

“Right there,” Sam pointed out. “They're boarding in thirty minutes.”

“Okay. We still have some cards to play,” Dean paused, thinking for a moment.  “We need to find a phone.” 

He found a courtesy phonw on the wall, picking it up. “Hi. Gate thirteen… I'm trying to contact an Amanda Walker. She's a flight attendant on flight, um… flight 4-2-4.”

He waited impatiently for Amanda to pick up the phone. When she finally did, he began speaking again.

“Miss Walker. Hi, this is Dr. James Hetfield from St. Francis Memorial Hospital. We have a Karen Walker here… Nothing serious, just a minor car accident, but she was injured, so—” His face fell, his eyes widening a touch. “You what?... Uh, well… there must be some mistake—”

Sam went around his brother to try to get a closer listen. 

After a longer pause, Dean let out a sigh of relief and smiled. “...Guilty as charged… He's really sorry… Yeah, but… he really needs to see you tonight, so—... Don't be like that. Come on. The guy's a mess. Really. It's pathetic… Oh, yeah… No, no. Wait, Amanda. Amanda!” Dean slammed the phone back onto the receiver. “Damn it! So close.”

"Alright, time for plan B. We're getting on that plane,” you stated firmly.

“Whoa, whoa, now just hold on a second.” For the first time since you met him, Dean looked scared.

“Dean, that plane is leaving with over a hundred passengers on board, and if we're right, that plane is gonna crash,” Sam argued.

“I know.” He looked conflicted.

“Okay. So we're getting on the plane, we need to find that demon and exorcise it. I'll get the tickets. You and (Y/N) get whatever you can out of the trunk. Whatever that will make it through security. Meet me back here in five minutes.”

Dean looked at Sam blankly, evidently a little anxious.

“Are you okay?” the younger Winchester asked.

Dean hesitated. “No, not really.”

“What? What's wrong?”

“Well, I kind of have this problem with, uh...”

“Flying?” you cut in.

“It's never really been an issue until now,” he told you.

“You're joking, right?” Sam huffed.

“Do I look like I'm joking? Why do you think I drive everywhere, Sam?” he spat.

For the first time since you met him, you didn’t feel like mocking him about his fear of planes.

“Okay, then (Y/N) and I’ll go,” Sam proposed.

Dean shook his head. “What?”

“We’ll handle this one.”

“What are you, nuts? You said it yourself, the plane's gonna crash.”

“Dean, we can do it together, or I can do this one with (Y/N). I'm not seeing a third option, here.”

Dean scratched his head. “Come on! Really? Man...”

Dean walked much faster than you did toward the car to get supplies, clearly trying to leave you in his dust.

“Would you slow down a bit, please?” you asked.

“Why should I?”

“Because even if you get to the car before me, you’re not gonna have a fucking clue what to use to deal with a demon,” you reminded him, your words a bit more venomous than need-be.

He stopped, turning to face you. “Are you calling me stupid?”

“No,” you told him. You truly weren’t.

“Definitely sounds like you are.”

You walked past him to the trunk of the Impala. “I wasn’t, I’m simply pointing out the fact that I’m the one who knows how to deal with demons, and you don’t.”

“There you go again. Acting like you know so much better than I do.” His attitude was truly exhausting.

Your voice rose as you defended yourself. “Because I do! In this case, at least!”

“But it’s not just this one time that you acted like you’re better than me,” he argued. “Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with your smart ass?”

“Do you realize how frustrating it is to deal with yours?” you threw back. You sighed, putting aside your anger for now. “Look, we don’t have time to talk about this.” You shoved holy water, a rosary, and the EMF Walkman into Dean’s hands. “Now, let’s go.” 

You shoved past Dean and headed back to the airport.

***

You sat between Sam and Dean, completely at ease. Dean, however, was losing his mind.

"Just try to relax,” Sam whispered from the window seat 

Dean’s voice came back harder and slightly louder. “Just try to shut up.”

“Oh, don’t be a baby,” you scolded playfully.

“Don’t be a bitch,” Dean clapped back using the same tone with you that he had with Sam. He took in a sharp breath when the plane began moving a second later.

You gathered your courage and grabbed his hand. He jerked away from you and looked at you in surprise. When the plane took off, though, his hand rejoined yours, squeezing tightly. You giggled to yourself.

“I’m so glad this is funny to you,” Dean hissed.

“It’s not,” you answered simply.

“Then why are you laughing?” His grip tightened once again.

“It’s just,” you considered your next words carefully. “It’s kind of cute, that’s all.”

Dean was caught off-guard by your response. He eyed you quizzically, unsure of what to say. You just shrugged, settling the back of your head against your seat with your hand still in Dean’s. It was much larger than yours, and you fought the urge to run your fingers along the calloused ridges. 

Moments passed in a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Dean spoke again, not a trace of bite in his tone. “Why are you doing this?”

You rolled your head toward him. “Everybody’s scared of something,” you quietly replied. “It helps me to know I’m helping you. Even if you do hate my guts.”

“I don’t hate your guts.” He spoke so softly you almost couldn’t hear him.

“Pfft, could’ve fooled me,�� you answered. 

“You just…” he started, “...get on my nerves. ‘S all.”

You giggled. 

A few minutes later when the plane had fully gotten up in the air, you heard the familiar sound of a song you had heard many times before in the Impala coming from the man next to you. 

“You're humming Metallica?” Sam asked Dean monotonously.

“Calms me down,” the older brother replied. 

“ ‘Some Kind of Monster’? Really?“ You raised a brow at him.

Dean did not respond to you.

“Look, man, I get you're nervous, all right? But you got to stay focused,” the younger Winchester reminded his brother.

“Yup,” you chimed in. “We only have thirty-two minutes to track the bitch down and full-on exorcise it.” 

“Yeah, on a crowded plane,” Dean commented. “That's gonna be easy.”

“Just take it one step at a time, alright?” Sam said calmly. “Now, who is it possessing?” 

“It's usually gonna be somebody with some sort of weakness, you know, a chink in the armor that the demon can worm through. Somebody with an addiction or some sort of emotional distress,” Dean stated.

“Well, this is Amanda's first flight after the crash. If I were her, I'd be pretty messed up,” Sam told Dean, who hummed in response.

Dean sat up stiffly, his body still tense as he turned to the blonde flight attendant walking past.

“Excuse me. Are you Amanda?” he asked her.

“No, I'm not,” she answered with a smile.

"Oh, my mistake.”

The flight attendant hummed in agreement.

He peered into the back of the plane, finding the other blonde flight attendant. “All right, well, that's got to be Amanda back there, so I'll go talk to her, and, uh, I'll get a read on her mental state.”

“What if she's already possessed, genius?” Sam asked.

“There's ways to test that,” Dean responded, pulling the holy water out of his jacket. “I brought holy water.”

“Correction, I brought holy water—” you leaned forward, gently taking the bottle, “—And that’s for when we try to exorcise the demon. She’ll flinch at the name of god if she’s possessed.”

“Yeah, I know that,” Dean replied, getting up from his chair. You could tell he had not. You already missed the feeling of his hand in yours.

He turned to go, but you stopped him.

“Dean!” you whispered.

“What?” The annoyance in Dean’s voice was back. 

“Say it in Latin.”

“Yeah, I know.”

“Then what is it?” you smirked, quirking a brow.

“ ‘Christo!’ I’m not an idiot!” he hissed back. Dean turned away from you and headed to the back of the plane. 

You slumped down in your seat, closing your eyes as the copilot began speaking. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is your first officer speaking...” you tuned out the rest of his message.

A few minutes went by before the older brother returned.

“Alright, well, she's got to be the most well-adjusted person on the planet,” he sighed as he flopped back into his seat.

“You said ‘Christo’?” Sam asked.

“Yeah.”

“And?”

“There's no demon in her. There's no demon getting in her.” 

“So, if it's on the plane, it can be anyone. Anywhere,” Sam explained.

The plane shook, causing Dean to tense up. He grabbed your hand once more. “Come on!” he whined. “That can't be normal!”

“Hey, hey, it's just turbulence,” you coaxed.

“Sweetheart, this plane is going to crash, okay? So quit treating me like I'm fucking four.” He went to drop your hand, but you tightened your grip.

“Okay,” you started, changing tactics. Your tone became harsh. “You need to calm down.”

“Well, I'm sorry, I can't,” Dean sassed.

“You didn’t want to be treated like you’re four, so stop acting like it,” you commanded. “Be a man, Winchester. If you’re a basketcase, you’re wide open to possession. Get your shit together. Right now.”

Dean took a deep breath.

You smiled. “Great. Onto the Rituale Romanum.”

“The what?” Sam and Dean asked in unison.

“The exorcism ritual,” you elaborated. “It's two parts. The first part expels the demon from the victim's body. It makes it manifest, which actually makes it more powerful.”

“More powerful?” Dean questioned, his voice strained and eyes wide.

“Yup.”

“How?” He was starting to get panicky again.

“It’d just be able to wreak havoc on its own without a vessel,” you informed.

“Oh. And why is that a good thing?”

“ 'Cause the second part of that sends the bitch back to hell once and for all.”

“First things first, we got to find it.”

“There ya go,” you chuckled.

“Shut up,” Dean grumbled, getting up from his chair with the EMF Walkman.

You and Sam let him walk down the aisle by himself for a few minutes before the two of you got up to go talk to him.

You tapped his shoulder.

“Ah!” Dean jumped back, wheeling around to face you. “Don’t do that!”

“Anything?” Sam asked.

The older brother shook his head. “No, nothing. How much time we got?” 

“Fifteen minutes,” Sam told you and his brother. “Maybe we missed somebody.” 

“Maybe the thing's just not on the plane,” Dean shrugged.

“No way. Dean, it’s gonna be here,” you protested. Just as you spoke, the EMF meter spiked. 

You looked up to see the copilot coming out of the bathroom.

“What?” Sam asked. “What is it?”

You stared at the copilot. “Christo.”

The man’s head slowly turned toward you and the boys, his eyes black.

You wheeled around to face Sam. “We gotta talk to Amanda.”

“She's not gonna believe this,” Sam contested.

“You’re probably right, but we only got twelve minutes,” you reminded the younger brother. You walked ahead of the boys into the concessions area where Amanda busied herself.

“Oh, hi. Flight's not too bumpy for you, I hope,” she smiled politely, clearly caught off-guard by your presence.

“Actually—” Dean began, “—that's kind of what we need to talk to you about.”

Sam closed the curtains behind you as Amanda answered Dean. “Um, okay. What can I do for you?”

“Alright, this is gonna sound nuts, but we just don't have time for the whole ‘the truth is out there’ speech right now,” Dean rushed out.

She looked confused but kept her smile painted on her face.

“Alright, look, we know you were on flight 2485,” Sam continued for Dean.

Her grin disappeared. “Who are you guys?”

Sam ignored her question. “Now, we've spoken to some of the other survivors. We know something brought down that plane and it wasn't a mechanical failure.”

“We need your help because we need to stop it from happening again. Here. Now,” the older brother told her.

“I'm sorry—” she started, attempting to move past you, “I— I'm very busy. I have to go back—”

“Chuck Lambert’s dead, Amanda,” you cut in, effectively stopping her from leaving. “The pilot from 2485.”

“Wait. What?” She turned to face you, her eyebrows furrowed. “Chuck is dead?”

“Yeah,” you said quietly. “He died in a plane crash. That’s the second plane crash in two months. Doesn’t that strike you as weird?”

She shook her head in complete disbelief.

“Look, there was something wrong with 2485,” Sam added. “Now maybe you sensed it, maybe you didn't. But there's something wrong with this flight, too.”

Dean made a last attempt to drive the point home. “Amanda, you have to believe us.”

The blonde looked to the ground. “On… on 2485, there was this man. He… had these eyes.”

“Black eyes?” you asked.

She nodded.

“That’s exactly what we’re talking about,” Sam clarified.

“I don't understand, what are you asking me to do?”

Dean answered before you got the chance to. “Okay. The copilot, we need you to bring him back here.”

Amanda looked between the three of you, confused. “Why? What does he have to do with anything?”

“Don't have time to explain. We just need to talk to him. Okay?”

“How am I supposed to go in the cockpit and get the copilot—” You could practically see her mind running a mile a minute. 

Even Sam was getting impatient. “Do whatever it takes. Tell him there's something broken back here, whatever will get him out of that cockpit.”

“Do you know that I could lose my job if you—”

“Babe, you're gonna lose a lot more if you don't go get him right now,” you remarked.

She looked at you and nodded, turning to leave for the cockpit.

As soon as Amanda made it out of the curtains, you fished the holy water out of your hoodie’s pocket, moving to press your back against the wall next to the closed blue curtains.

A few moments later, you heard the copilot say to Amanda, “Yeah, what's the problem?” Just outside the curtains. As soon as the demon ducked into the small room, Dean punched him in the face. He then shoved the demon to the ground and slapped duct tape over his mouth. 

“Wait,” Amanda protested as you got down on the ground beside Dean, “What are you doing? You said you were just gonna talk to him.”

“We are gonna talk to him,” Dean replied simply as you splashed the copilot with holy water.

The demon groaned under the duct tape, his skin sizzling and burning holes through his shirt.

“Oh, my god. What's wrong with him?” Amanda cried.

“Look,” Sam started calmly, “We need you calm. We need you outside the curtain.”

Amanda’s breath quickened. “Well, I don't underst— I don't know—”

“Don't let anybody in, okay? Can you do that? Can you do that? Amanda?”

She gave herself a pep talk before heading outside of the curtains.

“Hurry up, Sam,” Dean groaned. “I don't know how much longer I can hold him.”

The demon went to kick the older Winchester in the back, but you dove to grab his legs.

Sam began reciting the Latin ritual written in his father’s journal. “Regna terrae, cantate Deo, psallite Domino—”

The demon kneed you in the forehead, causing you to fall back and got a few good swings at the boys in as well. You clambered on top of the copilot, sitting on his stomach with his arms pinned by his sides under your legs.

Sam continued with the ritual before the demon threw you off of him. He ripped the tape off of his mouth and turned to Sam. “I know what happened to your girlfriend! She must have died screaming! Even now, she's burning!”

You attempted to recover from getting slammed into the wall while Dean focused on attacking the demon.

Sam sat there in shock, so you grabbed the journal and tried to finish the ritual.

The demon hit Dean again, effectively getting the young man off of him and knocking Dean into you. The book fell from your hand, and the demon kicked it out into the passenger’s cabin.

A cloud of black smoke flew out from the copilot’s body and into a vent while Sam went out into the aisle to find the journal. 

Suddenly, the plane shook violently and took a nosedive. The lights in the plane flickered and you and Dean were thrown to the back wall of the concession’s area. 

You and Dean screamed as the plane went down. Dean held onto the emergency exit door for dear life as you pressed yourself into the corner opposite from the older Winchester.

Your yelps were cut off when the plane leveled out following a surge of electricity coursing through the aircraft. You assumed Sam was able to finish the ritual and the pilot was able to regain control of the plane. 

You shakily stood up from the ground and dusted yourself off, tugging on the sleeves of your large hoodie.

You stepped out into the passenger’s cabin, heading to Sam as people began asking their neighbors if they were okay.

You wrapped Sam in a short, tight hug as you thanked him for keeping his head level enough to finish the ritual and trying to comfort him after what the demon had said. When you had made your way back to your seats, a slight rumble went through the aircraft. Dean grabbed your hand once again, and kept it there for the rest of the flight. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

After landing back at your original airport, you stood beside Sam and Dean as you watched the swarms of EMTs, FBI agents, and FAA agents go from person to person. They questioned or looked over each one, and your focus bounced between them.

You found Amanda in the crowd talking to an FBI agent, and she turned to the side to mouth “thank you” to you and the Winchesters.

“Let's get out of here,” Dean said firmly.

You began to head to the exit when Dean asked Sam, “You okay?”

You turned back to Sam, who reminded you and his brother, “Dean, it knew about Jessica.”

“Sam, these things, they, they read minds. They lie. Alright? That's all it was.” The older brother attempted to brush Sam’s concerns off.

“Yeah.” The brunet didn’t sound convinced.

“Come on.”

***

The next day, you and the Winchesters visited Jerry at his workplace to give him the final mission report. Jerry showed you and the boys out and escorted you to the Impala parked outside of the warehouse. 

“Nobody knows what you guys did, but I do. A lot of people could have been killed,” he acknowledged. He shook your hand before turning to the boys. “Your dad's gonna be real proud.”

Sam gave him an awkward, tight-lipped smile. “We'll see you around, Jerry.”

You turned to the car, as did Dean before he turned back to the older man. 

“You know, Jerry—" he began.

“Yeah.”

“I meant to ask you, how did you get my cellphone number, anyway?” the young man continued. “I've only had it for like six months.”

“Your dad gave it to me,” Jerry explained simply.

“What?” Sam exclaimed in shock.

“When did you talk to him?” Dean questioned.

“I mean, I didn't exactly talk to him, but I called his number. His voice message said to give you a call.” He took a pause. “Thanks again, guys— and gal,” he grinned.

“Bye, Jerry!” you called after him as he headed off.

“This doesn't make any sense, man. I've called Dad's number like fifty times. It's been out of service,” Sam told his brother.

Dean dials what you assumed was his father’s number. However, instead of the out-of-service message Sam had described, a voicemail began to play.

The two boys leaned into the phone so they could hear it better.

You leaned over Sam’s shoulder, the voice hard to hear, but you were still able to make out the words. “This is John Winchester. I can't be reached. If this is an emergency, call my son, Dean. 785-555-0179. He can help.”

Sam fumed, shaking his head in frustration as he got in the car. He slammed the door behind him. You looked over to Dean, who did not meet your gaze. He got in the car following his brother. You took one last look at the setting sun as a plane flew over your head. 

“I fuckin’ hate flying,” you muttered.

Series Rewrite Taglist: @polireader @brightlilith @atcamillanorrman @jrizzelle @insomnia-bookworm @procrastination20 @mrs-liebgott @djs8891 @tiggytaylor @staple-your-mouth @iloveshawn @jesstherebel

[hmslusitania]

15 for timkon if you'd like! (“This is a lot, even for you.”)

“Oh boy,” Kon says, hesitating in the entryway to the microcave Tim’s claimed. When Steph and Cass had called him about it, he’d thought they were exaggerating. In Kon’s defence, Tim’s been on more than a few somewhat unhinged murderboard investigations in his life, and the girls’ claim that this is actually, truly, the most unsettling one he’s done, that he’s locked himself in a microcave and they’re not sure he’s been eating — and are absolutely sure he hasn’t been sleeping — had felt melodramatic in the way only Gothamites can get.

In reality, he thinks they might’ve undersold it.

“Uh, hey, buddy, whatcha doin’?” Kon asks, hovering over the piles of office document boxes that — jesus fuck, is that a LexCorp logo?

He finds Tim in the centre of the microcave next to the aforementioned murderboard, and then he kinda wishes he hadn’t. The focal image in the centre of Tim’s web of red yarn and blue yarn and green yarn and something that looks like yellow caution tape that’s been twisted into thread is… Kon.

Tim is hunched in gargoyle posture next to the murderboard, chewing on the wrong end of a pen while he stares at the board with eyes so far past unfocused and surrounded by such dark bags that Kon’s kinda a little surprised Tim hasn’t like… toppled over and passed out.

At the sound of Kon’s voice, Tim spins on the balls of his feet and hurls the pen from between his teeth at him. Kon rebuffs it with his TTK and when the pen clatters to some scattered manila folders on the cave floor, Tim frowns.

“You’re… real?” Tim asks, lifting an eyebrow to inspect him. When he talks, Kon can see the dark spot of ink on his tongue that really can’t be pleasant to taste.

“Please tell me you haven’t been hallucinating,” Kon requests, and immediately regrets it because he’s really not sure he wants the answer to that.

“Um, n—just like the squiggles in the corners of your eyes when you’re sleep dep—why are you here?” Tim asks.

“Well, this is, uh, kind of a lot, even for you?” Kon replies, and hovers closer to the one working electronic in the microcave besides the flickering overhead light: the coffee pot. There’s nothing but tarry sludge at the bottom of the pot which is definitely contributing to the acrid scent of the cave, alongside Tim’s general state of being.

“Oh,” Tim says, looking back at the murderboard and then to Kon again. He seems to finally register that the subject of his investigation is now in his personal space, because his eyes go wide in addition to glassy. “Oh.”

“Any chance you’ll tell me why I’m the subject of this, uh…” Kon trails off, gesturing at the murderboard. Tim doesn’t write his tacked-on notes in any sort of way Kon can read. It’s not actually shorthand, not the official version of it, but probably some hybrid system Tim’s developed on his own. Whether or not it’s legible to other Bats is anyone’s guess.

“Um,” Tim says, and falls off the balls of his feet to land hard on his ass on the desk where he’s been perched. Based on the way he rubs absently at his knees and rolls his ankles around, Kon gets the impression he’d been crouched like that for way too long. “You’ve been, uh, exhibiting some… uncharacteristic behaviours? For about ten months now, give or take.”

Kon blinks. “I have?”

“Yeah, your sense of humour’s shifted, because you keep finding me funnier than other people in our group,” Tim says. He reaches for the pen he’d had in his mouth, like he means to use it as a pointer stick, and remembers at the last second that he’d thrown it at Kon to test his realness. Kon picks it up and offers it to him. Tim thanks him with a distracted, dazed expression, and then points it at the red lines. “And, um, you’ve been agreeing with me more? So, like, I know you haven’t been replaced by Match this time, because that was all about him trying to argue with me and divide our team. Also, you keep looking at me more when you think I’m not looking, I had to run through so many hours of security tapes.”

Tim points to some pretty damning screen grabs of security footage from the Young Justice HQ that kind of make Kon want to die of embarrassment.

It kind of sucks that Tim is so smart that he’s noticed all of this, but has also completely failed to put it together.

“So, what’s your conclusion, detective?” Kon asks.

“I don’t… know,” Tim huffs, and rubs the heel of his hand into one of his eyes like it’s about to give up on him and he needs to fight it into submission. “And I can’t think of what happened ten months ago that would’ve started a change in behaviour or—”

“Can I give you a hint?” Kon asks, swallowing down the nerves it immediately gives him, just to offer.

Tim blinks. “Wait, you’re aware of the change in behaviour?”

“Yeah, Tim,” Kon says, only keeping himself from laughing at the consternation on Tim’s face by the skin of his teeth.

Tim looks between him and the murderboard, a deep frown on his face. “So what happened ten months ago?”

“Well, eleven months ago, you told us you’re bi,” Kon says. He folds his arms across his chest and tucks his hands under his biceps to keep Tim from noticing them shake with nerves. Not that Tim’s really in a state to notice anything at this point. “And it took me about a month to do some soul searching and figure out that I am, too?”

The furrow between Tim’s eyes gets just a little deeper, like he can’t make the math problem add up. “But… if that’s it, then why are you looking at me like…”

He trails off, staring at the board for an excruciating enough length of time that Kon seriously considers just flying away and hoping Tim’s so out of it that he won’t actually remember this conversation.

“Wait, you like me?” Tim asks, face fever-bright when he looks away from the board to stare at Kon instead.

“Only kind of, like, a lot?” Kon replies, balling his hands into fists under his arms.

“Oh,” Tim says, and finally, to Kon’s relief, his face smooths out into a smile. “Cool.”

And, mystery solved, he immediately loses power to all systems, and slumps into a deep sleep. When he starts to topple forward off the desk like a marionette with the strings cut, Kon swoops forward to catch him. There’s probably a bed somewhere in this microcave, but if there is, it’s completely buried by Tim’s boxes of files, and Kon doesn’t want to dig. He cradles Tim in his arms and carries him out of the cave into the uncharacteristically pleasant Gotham evening, and when Tim burrows closer into his chest and murmurs, “like you too,” Kon can only smile.

[chryblossomjjk]

the weekend | jjk

⇢ PAIRING: dilf!jk x babysitter reader

⇢ RATING/GENRE: m/18+ | fwb, sm*t, angst

⇢ WC: 13.8k

⇢ WARNINGS: alright boyz strap in bc it's a doozy lmao, protected s*x, multiple org*sms (m & f), or*l s*x (m receiving), face f*ck, f*ngering, rough s*x, face slapping, sp*nking, exh*bitionism, sir k*nk, t*tty f*ck, t*tty sucking (duh), body piercings (n*pples), age gap (reader is 23 and jk is like 30), infid*lity (reader is the other woman), ch*king, overst*mulation, sp*tting, man handling, finger s*cking, d*m jk, brief mentions of past add*ction, implied passing of a bby (mainly subtext w no details given), maybe unrequited love, maybe not (EVIL CACKLE), some dark thoughts discussed (nothing too graphic or detailed), fighting n yelling n crying yikes, all of these characters are v flawed (except for yul duh), cute bby moments!!, oc is v immature n naive n contradicts herself a lot, she maybe has a thing for older guys bc of that, some bl*od (just a scrape on the knee but ik bl*od can be triggering), this relationship is extremely toxic and not meant to be desired!!!, one homage to trixie mattel lmao

⇢ SUMMARY: every weekend, you give jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

⇢ NOTES: so after months and months of planning this fic (i literally posted the teaser in JANUARY UM??), it's finally here. i think this is my fav thing i've written thus far and i worked v hard on this! would love to know ur thoughts, feedback is always appreciated!! ty @/taegularities for betaing!! (for whatever reason, this fic refuses to show up in tags n it sucks n nothing i do fixes it so i shall leave it be lol)

You can't tell what’s louder—the crunch of dewy, end-of-summer grass pricking the soft skin of your thighs like angry thorns, or the cracking of bones as your body thumps to the ground from your bedroom window. 

“Ah-” the whine is quickly stifled by a sharp hiss as you remember your dad’s sleeping figure is just behind the wall next to you. “Ouch,” you whimper, praying that the crash hasn’t reached his watchful ears. Carefully, you climb to your feet, brushing the dirt off your bare legs. You spot a fresh crimson scrape on your knee.

Fucking great. 

Finally, after days of longing and waiting, the weekend has arrived. Today, in particular, is a fantastic day. You were trying to look sexy, and blood isn't exactly the sexiest accessory. Bringing your wrist up to your nose, you inhale the candy-scented liquid you had doused yourself in before leaving. 

Perfume still in check, thank fuck.

Goosebumps form on your skin as you take long, dutiful strides, cool night mist gliding through the thin material of your long silk shirt. You’ve committed this path to memory—out the window, usually in a more graceful manner, through the neighbor’s yard, and then straight down the sidewalk to the black Mercedes Benz waiting for you at the end of the road. 

If you hadn’t done this a million and one times already, you might’ve missed the vehicle, so dark that it blends into the night seamlessly. You can’t help but wonder if that’s his goal entirely. 

Still, the excitement of it all makes you walk a little faster. 

“Hey, Jungkook,” you smile as you slide into his black leather passenger seat, leaning over the center console to give his cheek a gentle peck. Maybe you’ve overstepped a boundary and muddied the lines in the sand of your… relationship, but you can’t help yourself. Seeing Jungkook was always a treat, one you looked forward to every Friday night for the past five months.

“Hi,” he says impassively, eyes darting over your figure. A loose strand of hair dangles in front of his eyes, teasing you. “You’re wearing makeup?”

“Oh, um…” You’re at a loss for words; surprised he noticed such a slight change in your appearance. Although his perceptiveness was something you noted shortly after you began working for him, you can’t help but feel flustered. “Yeah, I… wanted to look nice tonight. Totally busted my ass climbing out the window,” you laugh.

“Did you get hurt?” His straight brows furrow slightly, silver piercing reflecting the moonlight. 

“Just a scratch.” You lift your leg to show him the red mark on your knee. “Didn’t break anything, though, so that’s a plus.”

Wordlessly, Jungkook reaches over, popping open the glove compartment before you and pulling out the first aid kit he keeps there for emergencies. The scent of clean linen wafts over you from his daily cologne. His scent. Only his. You try your best to subdue the possessive smirk forming. “You should be more careful.”

“I’m okay.”

“Be more careful,” he commands, peering up at you with an icy gaze. “Got it?”

Whether it’s the seven-year age gap between the two of you or the tone of his voice, you know better than to argue. “Yes,” you wince as he rubs Neosporin onto the open wound. “Besides, I wouldn’t have gotten hurt if my dad wasn’t so… overprotective.”

“Well,” he continues, sticking a pink Baby Shark bandaid to your skin before putting the box back, “as a father, I understand.”

“Yul is two, though,” you laugh, “I’m in my twenties.”

“Being in your early twenties hardly makes you an adult,” he mutters. "Besides, it doesn't matter. The need to protect your children always stays the same.”

“Poor Bunny,” you pout jokingly as you click your seatbelt on. “She’s going to be just like me when she’s older. Sneaking out of a window to see a boy because her daddy is a big grizzly bear.”

The comment has his nose twitching in irritation. “I’m done with this conversation, __.”

You freeze. Have you struck a nerve?

“Jungkook, I’m sorry,” you peep. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Stop.” His voice is flat, but your heart thumps. “It’s fine.”

All the excitement you feel suddenly morphs into an uncomfortable ache as you slump into your seat. It’s different than it was last weekend, positioned much closer to the dashboard than you would ever put it. There’s a claustrophobic sting in your chest as you realize someone else has been in this very spot. 

You know they have, and you know who. 

The deafening sound of the bulky silver band on his finger, tapping against the steering wheel as he begins driving to the hotel you frequent, is a sick reminder.

You swear there’s even a musky floral scent lingering in the air. Deeper and more mature than yours. It could be paranoia, or guilt, making you imagine things. Still, you hope your perfume finds its way into every fiber of his leather seats. 

“How was your day?” Jungkook asks, interrupting any rational thought or doubt, luring you back into the vicious cycle. 

“A bit stressful,” you sigh. “I applied for school today.”

“That’s good.”

“Yeah, pretty sure I messed up on the financial aid paperwork, though. It was super confusing; I didn’t understand any of it.”

“You should’ve brought it over. I could’ve helped you.” 

Jungkook does have a master’s degree in finance. He could’ve been your Rosetta Stone, helping you decipher convoluted questions about taxes and deductions. However, you weren’t sure how he would’ve reacted to you pulling out your laptop post-sex, asking for assistance on something completely unrelated to your normal routine. “That’s not the type of thing we usually do when we’re together,” you shrug, “you know?”

Your response has him shifting in his spot, pierced bottom lip curling inwards like the words made him queasy. He was the one who encouraged you to go back to school in the first place. “I wouldn’t have minded,” Jungkook mumbles before quickly redirecting the dialogue, something he does whenever he’s frustrated or uncomfortable. “So, what’s the special occasion?” 

“Huh?” 

“What’s got you all dolled up?”

Oh, right. That special occasion. The one you’ve been anticipating since you were made aware of its existence. 

“Happy three years sober!” You announce with a cheesy smile, throwing your arms up eagerly. 

“Ah,” he huffs in recognition. His eyes are fixed on the road, but there’s the tiniest hint of a smirk on his face. Success. It takes everything in you not to physically rejoice. “I’m surprised you remembered.”

“What do you mean?” You ask with a pout. “How could I forget?”

“I don’t know.” Just like that, the flicker of happiness wisps away like a flame in the wind as his expression turns emotionless and stoic again. “It’s not really a big deal.”

You frown. Must he always be so… cold? 

‘It’s okay to smile; you deserve it,’ is what you want to tell him. It's not your place, though. You opt for: “It’s a huge deal, Jungkook,” instead. Reaching over, you gently tuck the stray strand of hair behind his decorated ear. 

A somber aura hangs around him like a dark, dreary rain cloud, and in moments like this, when it’s so visible, you just… need to touch him.

It’s stupid to think that you’re the special one; that you’ll be the girl to turn the rain into a rainbow and save him from himself, but you can’t refrain from trying. 

“Did you celebrate?”

He shakes his head. “Went to work.” 

You can tell from his outfit—a sleek black blazer resting neatly on top of an even darker button-up and tie. His long hair is slicked back, but gravity, and his ten-hour long shift took their toll, making the strands hang slack, short undercut peaking through. He looks so incredibly sexy. Maybe, you can comfort him in the only way you know how…

“Well, there’s still time.” You point to the clock on his touchscreen stereo: 11:12 p.m. You throw your hair over your shoulder before slowly undoing the top two buttons of your shirt, revealing the skimpy black lingerie set you splurged on just for tonight. Just for him. “We can celebrate…”

“Yeah?” His cheek bubbles, tongue poking at the inside of his mouth, eyebrow jumping at your suggestion. “How so?”

You bite your lip, contemplating your next move. Hastily, you unbuckle your seatbelt and lean over the center console. It’s reckless, but so is being with a man like Jungkook. When you finally get to have him the way you want, you’re incapable of rationality. 

One night of him isn’t enough. What kind of tease is that? You need at least six more to be satisfied…

“__,” he warns, arching his head away from your sneaky lips.  “Put your seatbelt on. Wait until we get to the hotel.”

“Where’s the fun in that, though?” You pout, cupping his cheek in your hand and batting your eyelashes innocently. Jungkook doesn’t take the bait, giving the desolate road ahead his unwavering attention. Despite his nonchalant demeanor, you can tell you’re getting to him. Below you, his slacks tighten around his thick, tensed thighs. He’s playing right into your hands. Needily, you tongue the little silver hoops dangling from his ear. 

“If I have to pull over, you’re in trouble.”

“Maybe I-”

A hushed ‘fuck’ cuts you off as the car comes to a screeching halt. Jungkook slams on the brakes, coming too close to the slower vehicle in front of you for comfort. Luckily, his dad reflexes kick in. His strong hand grips your waist tightly, preventing you from barreling forward. You brace yourself by clutching his shoulders, and when the adrenaline rush fades, you finally look at him. His nostrils are flared, and his jaw is clenched painfully tight. He’s pissed. 

You know you should apologize, or be a little shaken up, but the blinking of the turn signal as he pulls to the side of the dark highway has your mouth watering. This is just what you wanted. 

Jungkook sighs in frustration, tilting his head back against the headrest. The movement is counterintuitive, exposing the inked canvas of his neck that you’re desperate to paint red and purple. 

A hand fists your tangled hair, pulling you off with a harsh yank before you have the chance to sink your teeth in. The silver ring on his finger digs into your scalp like a knife. “Do not fucking mark me.”

The feeling of the frigid metal is agonizing. Not physically—his grip loosens immediately after the initial tug—but emotionally. You know why he doesn’t want you to mark him. Any evidence of you, other than your weekly babysitting duties, would unravel the entire life he’s built for himself. 

Jungkook is an intelligent man, though. You don’t have to tell him that it’s all a façade, and everything’s already been undone. 

“I’m sorry.” Your voice comes out frail and shaky. “I just want you.”

And like some cruel joke, his phone rings. 

The contact image would typically make you swoon. It’s a picture of him and his daughter from her first birthday party; her sticky, strawberry ice cream covered hands holding his cheeks as he stares at her with scrunched eyes and a big smile. You think that picture is the only time you’ve ever seen him genuinely happy.

The bold, white font at the top of the screen makes you sick to your stomach. 

‘Wife.’

Jungkook releases your hair and places a finger over his mouth, signaling you to shut up,  before answering. 

“Yes, Seulgi?”

“Your daughter would like to speak to you.” 

Her voice makes you want to curl into yourself. Whenever you talk to Seulgi regarding Yul, you’re able to compartmentalize and detach that part of yourself from this one. The one that’s sleeping with her husband. Hearing her in this compromised setting makes you feel absolutely repulsive. 

After some rustling and tiny sniffles, Yul answers. “Da-” She only manages a syllable before breaking into a cry-induced coughing fit. You cringe, poor Bunny. “Daddy!”

“What’s wrong with my baby?”

You don’t mean to giggle, especially when the little girl you’ve grown to love so much is clearly distressed, but the intimidating, grumpy, tattooed businessman beside you, talking in full-on pout, tickles your brain just right.

“I don’t wanna sleep alone!” Yul screeches in the most anguished, high-pitched tone.

“Bunny…” With the way his hands scrub down his face, you can tell the tears on the other end are physically affecting him. “Take a deep breath, please.”

There’s a shaky inhale, and a sad whine of an exhale as she tries to steady her respirations.

“Thank you, good job,” he affirms. “Yul, daddy is…” Dark pupils flicker over to you, his face scowled to match. He eyes you like you’re an annoying stain on his leather seat. A dirty little secret that’s keeping him from his daughter. The gesture sends a dagger through your chest. Usually, Jungkook tells his wife he’s working overtime, but he can’t bring himself to lie to his only daughter. “Busy.”

“B-B-But.” The wails have simmered down to a blubber. “Scared.”

“You have mommy, though, don’t you?” He counters exasperatedly, cogs turning at maximum speed to conjure up a solution. “And Ruru?”

Yul is a persistent girl. You’ve seen the two-and-a-half-year-old deadpan Jungkook with a ‘you can have them, then,’ when he tried to convince her that vegetables were delicious and totally not an abomination to tastebuds. “Jeon Ruru is scared, too.”

After a few months of dedication and trust building, Yul finally initiated you into her inner circle of squishmallows, all of which shared the surname, Jeon, followed by whatever random title her baby brain bestowed them. Jeon Ruru, a glass of strawberry milk, was her favorite. You coo in remembrance. 

“What about Ado?” Jungkook suggests, exhausting all his options.

“Ado?” She peeps curiously, and you can almost see her doe eyes scanning the room for her runner-up, an avocado squishmallow you gifted her. “Ado’s sleepin’.”

“Can you go get him?”

There’s a long pause of contemplation before the pitter-patter of tiny feet on wood fills the speakers. “Jeon Ado!” She calls out, voice becoming distant as she runs to her bedroom, “daddy wantsa’ talk to you!” You make out a quiet ‘I’ll tuck you in’ when Seulgi helps her to bed. “Okay,” Yul huffs, breathless from her scurry down the long corridor, “he’s here.”

“Jeon Ado.” You rarely see this side of him, and it takes all of your strength to suppress the smile that’s creeping up. “Can you keep Yul safe while I’m away?” He even leans forward a bit, turning his ear towards the speaker as if he’s actually waiting for the stuffed avocado to answer, subconsciously playing along with his daughter despite being miles apart. The scene puts your overwhelmingly sweet perfume to shame. “Uh, Yul, he said yes. So can you sleep in your big girl bed tonight?”

Reluctantly, Yul grumbles in agreement.

“Alright baby, goodnight. I’ll see you in the morning, okay?” 

Again, she answers with a little grunt and a yawn.

“I love you.”

“Love youuu!” She extends the vowel for emphasis.

“I love you more.”

There’s a beat of silence before the sleepy girl simply responds ‘yep,’ not even attempting to argue. He glances at you, this time with a wholesome smile, eyes warm with burning stars. It’s moments like this that keep you hooked, you think. Like always, the feeling is short-lived. When Seulgi mumbles a sweet goodnight to her daughter, their daughter, you’re reminded that you shouldn’t even be observing this domestic interaction. 

“You know,” the man begins, turning his attention to his wife, “if you had given her a warm bottle, she would’ve gone down without a hitch.” 

“Jungkook, she’s too old for a bottle.” And just like that, the fire between them ignites. You’ve never actually witnessed the pair fighting, only felt the uncomfortable heat between them in passing. “And she’s too old to be co-sleeping. She never had an issue sleeping alone beforehand.”

“Alright,” he asserts, “if Yul’s okay, then we’re done here.”

“Don’t you think it’s a little unfair?” Despite his warning, she continues. “Getting her used to sleeping with you and then not being here?”

There were many things about having a daughter that Jungkook wasn’t prepared for.

It’s not that he didn’t do his research, and Yul certainly wasn’t an accident. He had wanted her more than anything. Especially after the… 

Incident.

A baby-sized hole was left in Jungkook’s chest. Every day, it grew bigger and bigger until, eventually, that bitter emptiness would’ve swallowed him alive. 

Jungkook needed Yul. 

Still, there were certain things that parenting books and videos hadn’t warned him about, like the worry in his stomach whenever his daughter refuses her lunch, or the ache in his heart when he drops her off at daycare and she watches him leave through the window with a sad wave and tears rolling down her cheeks as if he’s just abandoned her forever. As if he or his wife aren’t going to pick her up in a mere four hours like they do every Tuesday and Thursday. His readings haven’t prepared him for the even stronger ache that consumes his entire body whenever he leaves for work too early and comes home too late, with barely any time to spend with his favorite person in the world.  

Before Yul was even born, Jungkook and Seulgi had decided that co-sleeping was out of the question. Their room was for them, and he stood firm on that principle for a while. However, as time passed, their room became Seulgi’s, and the empty bedroom downstairs became his. 

Jungkook couldn’t stand that room. 

One night, after a particularly grueling shift, Jungkook trudges up the stairs for a late shower. Without finance talk or Yul’s babbles, he’s left to his own thoughts. Usually, under the scalding water, he wondered how his life turned out this way, or more so, why? This time, Jungkook wonders if there is even a reason to keep going at all.

He catches his reflection while brushing his teeth. His eyes are dark, cold, distant. Those same eyes belong to his daughter, but all he sees when looking into hers is love, innocence, and everything good in life. 

Maybe, just maybe, there’s hope for him. 

Taking a detour to Yul’s room, Jungkook does his best to quietly tip-toe around squishmallows and discarded markers. Underneath the pink blanket is a little ball of fluffy black hair. She’s got her thumb in her mouth—a bad habit he and Seulgi had been trying to nip in the bud—with her chubby cheeks squished against her pillow. There were few things he hated more than waking her up, especially when she was sleeping so peacefully, but for whatever reason, he couldn’t stop himself. 

Tiny, confused cries fill the room as Jungkook scoops her up. 

“Shh,” he hushes, smoothing his palm over her onesie-clad back. “It’s just me.”

“Da- ddy?” Immediately, she relaxes at the familiar sound of his voice, words slurred as she rubs the sleep out of her eyes with a little fist before peering up at him with big marble eyes. 

“How was daycare, Bunny?” 

“Scared,” she whimpers, slumping into his chest for comfort. “Scaredy cat.”

“Scaredy cat?” Jungkook repeats, trying to make sense of the phrase. “Who’s a scaredy cat?”

“Jeon Yul.” 

Typically, Jungkook finds it adorable when Yul refers to herself in the third person. The way she says it this time makes him frown. “Jeon Yul is not a scaredy cat. Jeon Yul is a baby, that’s all.” Realizing that she’d probably heard the unfavorable title at daycare, his chest tightens. With a heavy sigh, he rests his chin on top of her round head, swaying back and forth. Her hair smells like green apples from her baby soap. “Why were you scared, sweetheart?”

“No color…” 

On his lunch break, Seulgi informed him that she was picking Yul up early. In an attempt to encourage her to engage with other children, the teacher took away Yul’s crayons, sending her into a full-blown tantrum. Jungkook knew his daughter well, a spitting image of him in every capacity. The crayons weren’t the problem; it was that crippling shyness that made her afraid of socializing with nearly anyone other than you and her parents.

Her back ripples with tiny hiccups as she recounts the events. Jungkook decides it’s best to change the subject, not wanting to upset his two-year-old anymore—especially this late at night. 

“Guess what?”

Yul grunts an inquisitive noise.

“Daddy got you Baby Shark coloring books.”

Her wispy bedhead bounces as she glances side to side, inspecting her room for any sign of new Pinkfong merchandise. Jungkook was genuinely amazed at her ability to keep track of it all, considering how much he and his wife loved to spoil her rotten. However, the word ‘rotten’ doesn’t even come close to describing his baby. “Where?”

“In my car,” he laughs, slicking her choppy bangs out of her eyes. “We’ll color tomorrow., okay?”

“I like Baby Shark,” Yul says, completely ignoring his question. The teeniest, tiniest, most precious yawn slips out, two little front teeth on full display before her lips smack together sleepily. Truly living up to her nickname.

“I know you do.” He’s still rocking her gently, buying some time before she falls back into sleep’s arms and out of his. “I missed you so much today.” 

“Why?”

As of late, ‘why’ seems to be Yul’s favorite word. 

Why is the sky blue?

Why do vegetables taste yucky?

Why is daddy’s nose so big?

He’d be lying if he said that last, brutally honest question hadn’t caught him off guard when she first uttered it on his hip at the grocery store. 

“Because I love you.” It’s the most effortless sentence he’s ever spoken. The most natural feeling he’s ever felt.

“Why?” 

“Because,” his eye roll is disconnected from his growing smile, “you’re so cute!” If they weren’t enclosed by the four pink walls of Yul’s bedroom, Jungkook would be embarrassed at the squeakiness of his usual monotone voice. Leaning down, Jungkook blows a raspberry against her doughy cheek, a tried and true method of making her laugh. “Do you want to sleep in my room?”

It’s against his better judgment and the ground rules he had agreed to, but he just… really needs to spend time with her tonight. The small nod against his chest seals the deal. Before he gets to the door, Yul stops him with an exaggerated gasp.

“Daddy, Ruru!”

“Ruru?” 

She grunts, frustrated at her father’s confusion, frantically pointing at her partner in crime, the strawberry milk squishmallow lying neatly underneath her comforter. Just how she left it.

“Yul,” Jungkook starts, taking a few steps backward and bending at the waist, allowing her to take the oversized stuffie into her arms. “Isn’t this Mimi?” As far as Jungkook knows, the pink milk carton with a face had always been Mimi; a name Yul had dubbed it since he brought it home a couple months back.

“Ruru,” she states affirmatively. 

And ever since then, Yul’s been a co-sleeper. 

Jungkook prided himself on knowing his daughter like the back of his tattooed hand. Whether it’s a sixth sense, some innate father’s instinct that the parenting videos mentioned, or his own attention to detail, he could read her like a book. However, sharing a bed with the tiny human taught him something he had been blissfully unaware of:

Yul sleeps wild. 

More often than not, Jungkook was awoken by a tiny foot kicking his back, or by his own reflexes as he was somehow pushed to the very corner of the bed by his twenty-pound baby. There were even a few times when a harsh tug on his hair acted as an alarm clock. When he turned around to confront the culprit, however, she was fast asleep, arm slung over one of the many squishmallows that had worked their way into his room. 

Having her with him was worth all bald spots and bruises, though. It’s bad, he knows it, and night by night, Yul becomes more attached. Getting her acclimated to daycare had been hell, to say the least. He knows co-sleeping has possibly made her more reluctant to socialize than she already was. 

Still, Jungkook can’t help but wonder who’s more dependent on the other. When he thinks about it, undoubtedly, the answer is him. Because as long as he wakes up to a little foot in his back, a fist in his hair, and the smell of green apple baby soap, he has a reason to keep going. 

“Don’t you think she deserves better?”

Her sharp words swipe through the air like a blade. Even you feel the cut, cautiously eyeing Jungkook. You can’t read his expression, but something about it makes you rub a comforting hand over his shoulder. He doesn’t react to your touch at all.

There’s a sullen pause before he finally answers. “I think Yul deserves everything.”

“Right… Goodnight, Jungkook.” She hangs up before he has the chance to respond. Seulgi always struck you as a level-headed person, albeit a bit aloof, but never unfair or cruel. You assume she’s just being spiteful, because anyone who knows Jungkook would never question his dedication to his daughter. That ugly, bitter, jealous side of you thinks maybe she just doesn’t know him the way you do. 

“Are you okay?” You whisper as if approaching a wounded animal, ready to attack. 

“On Fridays,” he starts, eyes shamefully dropping to his fidgeting hands. “Yul spends the day with my parents.”

His incessant need to defend his parenting makes your heart ache. “Hey, I-”

“She’s usually asleep by the time I leave work.” 

“Kook,” you interrupt his rambling. “You don’t have to explain; I understand... I think you’re an amazing father.”

Lifting his head, Jungkook looks you directly in the eyes. His are glassy and gentle now, but the fingers that hook into your lace bra, right between the cups, are rough and abrasive. “C’mere,” he gruffs, pulling you over the center console until you’re uncomfortably sandwiched between his solid chest and the steering wheel. There’s no effort to make room for you; he doesn’t slide his seat back. He doesn’t compromise any of his space for you. You accept it, steadying yourself on his shoulders with a grunt. 

Sometimes, you question what your presence in his life truly is. Are you an escape or a punching bag? Are you merely something he can sink his nails and teeth into when angry? Something he can break without consequence? The sound of thread ripping and buttons popping fills the car as he slides the silk off your shoulders, letting the delicate material fall to the floor without a care in the world.

“You wore this for me?” A fingertip lightly traces the petite swell of your breasts, barely bulging over the frilly black cups of your push-up. The sensation sets your skin ablaze.

“Mhm,” you confirm, “I wanted today to be special.”

“You care about me?” Moonlight cuts through the dewy window, beaming against the side of his face, highlighting the taut pull in his features. His question seems genuine, but the answer is obvious, isn’t it? Simply being here with him makes the entire foundation of your soul, all of your morals and beliefs, crumble to pieces. Against your better judgment, you’re still here. 

Yearning. Trying. Fighting.

You swipe a thumb over his thick brows, trying to ease the angry crinkle that’s become a permanent fixture on his beautiful face. You comb through his hair. It’s a little knotted, a little crunchy from old gel. 

The answer should be obvious, but you don’t think Jungkook could internalize love if it was right in front of him.

“I care about you,” you say truthfully, “a lot.”

The stars in his eyes gleam for a moment, glowing bright and vibrant, before they’re engulfed by the suffocating blackness of his pupils. 

“You poor thing,” Jungkook tuts, trailing his fingers up your neck before grasping your jaw with a single hand. The baby fat of your cheeks mushes together from the force. “You're gonna let me do whatever I want to you, aren't you?”

The tone of his voice has your heart fluttering and your stomach churning with thick hot desire. Gripping his wrist with both hands, you moan out a ‘yes,’ unconsciously grinding down onto his slack-covered bulge. He’s barely touched you yet and your cunt is leaking, making a mess of your itty bitty thong and his work suit. 

“Right, of course.” With the same hand holding you, Jungkook taps his index finger against your glossy pout, “open.” Just barely parting your lips, you let the thick digit slide between them. Immediately, he presses down against your tongue, trying to coax a gag out of you. “What if I want to fuck this pretty little mouth until you cry? How does that sound? Would you like that?”

Inhaling deeply, you nod. That sounds absolutely perfect.

“I don’t know if you can handle it, though,” he lulls, retracting his finger before plunging it back in, all the up to his inked knuckle. You squint in defiance. He’s teasing, but you can’t fight the tinge of anger in your chest. If there’s one thing you can do, it’s suck a mean dick. Looking him directly in the eyes, you swirl your tongue against his palm with ease, not choking once. You feel his cock twitch against the supple flesh of your inner thigh. 

Unamused by your antics, Jungkook yanks his hand back angrily, making a string of saliva drip down your chin. Maybe a full face of makeup wasn’t the best idea. “Get in the backseat,” he orders huskily, wiping the damp skin on his blazer. Biting back a smirk, you climb off his lap and wriggle over the center console. You situate yourself on the cool leather, laying down and assuming face-fuck position. 

The yellow glow of headlights swims across the ceiling as a passing car drifts down the misty highway. This is the first time in five months that you and Jungkook are out in the open, blissfully oblivious to the possibility of getting caught. It’s childish, but you hope someone sees. For a moment in time—in a wandering eye’s glimpse of reality—you’re his and he's yours.

“Couldn’t wait until we got to the hotel, huh?” Jungkook huffs when he opens the door. Giddily, you lean your head back over the edge of the seat, coming face to face with the tent in his pants. His hands frantically work to unbuckle his belt, desperate to bury himself inside of you. His favorite escape. “Well, since you want to act like a fucking whore-” his pants fall to his knees with a clang when he unbuttons them, “-I’ll treat you like one.”

“Please,” you whimper, noting the wet spot on his gray Calvin Kleins. Reaching up, you lightly drag your nails across it, teasingly pinching the head of his cock before he tugs his boxers down. A big greedy smile spreads across your face as his semi springs out. 

The sight makes your lips part. It’s so pretty. Something about how the moonlight catches the glowy pink tip, peeking out from under his foreskin. The light accentuates every ridge and vein on his girthy shaft. So yummy it has you drooling-

Jungkook’s right. You’re a complete and utter whore.

“Is this what you wanted?” He peers down at you over his prominent nose, one hand clutching the roof of his Mercedes. The other wraps around his thick shaft, giving it a few languid pumps, getting himself fully erect for you. Teasingly, he taps the head against your plump lips. Unable to resist, you press a sweet peck and a kitten lick to his silky frenulum. “Uh-uh,” he chuckles, raising his delicious cock just beyond your reach. “You know better than that. Ask for permission.”

“Wanna suck it,” you pout, squirming impatiently. “Please?”

Suddenly, his heavy cock slaps your cheek with a wet thud.

“Please, what?”

“Please, sir?”

“Good girl.” The praise is contradicted by another light smack to your face, this time with an open palm. Taking the hint, you open your mouth wide, tongue sticking out in anticipation. Jungkook watches you intently with furrowed brows and a slack jaw as he feeds you the first few inches. As soon as the salty flavor of his arousal hits your tastebuds, you moan obnoxiously, back arching off the leather beneath you. 

He starts slowly, using your breathing to guide his movements—pausing on the exhales and giving you a bit more on the inhales. He does this until the entirety of his length is shoved down your warm, wet mouth. 

The hem of his black dress shirt flows over you, obstructing his view. He places it between his teeth with an annoyed groan, wanting to watch the swell in your neck as you swallow him like a snake. “You take it so well,” he grunts over the material, “the best I’ve ever had.”

Tears clinging to your lashes finally lose grip, trickling down your skin until they get lost in the thick, dark swoops of your dangling hair. For once, you mean something more to him than she does. It’s insignificant and shameful, but at least it's something.

“Are you okay, __?” Jungkook asks, sensing the shift as your soul splays before him like your half-naked body. Stepping back, he gives you some reprieve.

With red eyes and drool bubbling at the corners of your lips, you moan out an implied ‘yes.’ His confession has you on cloud nine.

“Do you remember the sign?”

Again, you hum. 

“Can you show me?”

Lazily, you tap his outer thigh three times, a hard ‘stop’ symbol you had agreed upon months ago while hanging off the edge of a hotel bed, preparing for Jungkook to fuck your mouth for the very first time. 

“Good girl,” he says before rutting his entire length into you again. He’s so deep that the soft skin of his scrotum nudges against the tip of your nose, and the dense patch of trimmed hair on his pubic bone tickles your chin. Reaching down, Jungkook grips your neck, reveling in the feeling of it stretching against his palm as he moves in and out steadily. 

Eventually, he hunches over, hands wandering down and holding your temples for better leverage. Despite the harsh digs of his hips, his delicate fingers brush away a few strands of hair stuck to your damp cheeks. The sweet gesture makes you whimper around him in pure ecstasy, moving your head to meet his thrusts for extra stimulation, circling your flat tongue around the base. 

The whistles of the midnight breeze and the murmur of passing cars fade, and all you hear is Jungkook. The melodic, venomous praises pouring out of him poison your mind with optimism. He takes one last plunge, so powerful it sends you sliding back against the seat. To steady yourself, you grip his legs, attempting to ease your triggered gag reflex. He holds you there, cock stuffed to the brim as he slams a hand against the black steel of his car, shirt falling from his teeth as he moans ardently. You gasp when he finally pulls out, leaking tip still connected to you by a bridge of spit and precum.

“Why-” Cough. “Why did you stop?” 

Your question is met with only the sound of rustling fabric and the chime of his hanging belt buckle as he removes his suit jacket and throws it into the passenger seat. Grabbing you by the band of your lingerie, Jungkook hauls your frame closer.

He snaps your taut bra strap against your shoulder with a single finger. “Take this off.”

“O-Okay,” you stutter, still trying to catch your breath as you sit up at the waist and unclip your bra. A shiver runs down your spine as the cool night air licks your exposed chest. This time when you lie down, you’re positioned under his spread legs. He stands over you with such authority and dominance. The underside view of his hard cock looks absolutely menacing. 

“These,” Jungkook’s large palms grab at your tits, jiggling them, “I wanna fuck ‘em.”

“There isn’t anything for you to fuck,” you giggle. 

After years of insecurity, and crying over vengeful comments from dumb boys you had broken things off with, you finally came to terms with your appearance. Your tits are small, and that’s okay. Plus, the cute little nipple piercings you had gotten a while back were definitely a confidence booster. There wasn’t an ounce of self-hatred in your comment.

Jungkook doesn’t take it that way, though.

“Shut up.” With a huff, he steps back and hunches, reaching down to deliver a harsh swat to your cheek. It was a little rougher than usual, and you wince upon impact. Instantly, he soothes the skin with a gentle pet. “Your tits are… perfect.”

Perfect? Your cheeks and aching pussy heat up at the compliment.

Squeezing your chest, Jungkook brushes his thumbs over your pebbled nipples. He pays extra attention to the silver barbells, decorated with little sparkly peaches at the ends. “These are new,” he notes, tugging on the jewelry. You let out a breathy moan, legs clenching together, inner thighs embarrassingly wet. “Sheesh,” he laughs, “someone’s sensitive.”

“Yeah… keep going.”

“I like them. They’re cute on you.”

Throughout your acquaintances, Jungkook was rarely this vocal. Maybe some praise sprinkled in here and there, but seldom anything substantial. Tonight, however, he’s been dishing out sweet talk like candy. You can’t pinpoint precisely what, but something’s changed.

Whatever it is, it fills you with awful, wishful hope.

Jungkook shuffles closer, teasing the teat of your pierced bud with his sticky tip. The dreamy sensation has your eyes rolling back into your skull. A glob of spit drops between the valley of your breasts before he spreads the wetness over your skin with his shaft. He has to use a death grip to force your tits into a soft plushness, perfect for him to slot himself into. Again, you feel that fucking ring embedding itself into your skin like a nasty tick. 

Cautiously, he guides his pulsing cock between your constrained breasts. A beautiful symphony of groans lulls out as he throws his head back in pleasure, long locks dancing along his clammy neck. 

“You like that?” You hum, taunting him. “Tell me how it feels.”

It takes him a minute to collect his thoughts, eyes trained on your tits pillowing around him, focusing on the dewy sheen of your nipples and chest as his oozing cock spills onto your skin. “It feels-” his hips stutter, “-so fucking good.”

The way his teeth snarl around the hushed curse makes you smile, eyes closing as you relish in his pleasure. Maybe you’re too horny, or perhaps the blood rushing to your head from being upside down for so long is making you crazy, but you wish you could live in this moment forever. Wallowing in the darkness, frozen in time with him. Yeah, you think, that would be wonderful.

“You can touch yourself,” he comments, spotting your clenched legs, desperate for some pressure. 

“S’okay,” you mumble, reaching around to caress his balls. His thighs tremble a bit against your arms. “Just wanna make you feel good.”

“Can you-” he grunts, stomach clenching as he begins to feel that familiar pooling in the base of his thick shaft. “Hold them for me. I’ll take care of you after, just- let me cum.”

Obliging, you replace his hands with your own, squishing your tits together for him. The visual of you lying under him, complacent and willing, sends him spiraling. A guttural roar echoes throughout the empty road as he speeds up. “Tighter,” he orders; you listen. The saliva and precum are beginning to rub off, making the friction of his chaotic thrusts sting your skin. He notices, letting another string of spit fall from his mouth onto your flesh. “Be good and take it. I’m almost there.”

By now, Jungkook should know you’d endure any pain to be with him. 

The darkest parts of your brain tell you he’s well aware of that fact. 

After a few more humps and lulled words of encouragement, he’s bursting at the seams. Just before he blows, Jungkook steps back, tight fist jerking himself frantically as he spills his seed onto your chest. Your eyes dart from his angry cock to his fucked out expressions. The moonlight shines behind him like a glowing aura as he finishes with a scrunched nose and his tongue between his teeth. He looks angelic. You moan under him, flinching when a stray spurt lands on your chin. 

Fucked out and dazed, he laughs softly, running a hand through his hair as his chest heaves. Collecting the liquid with his finger, he brings it to your giggling lips. The taste makes you hum as you lazily begin rubbing his cum all over your tits. 

“Really?” He asks with a raised eyebrow. “You’re already starting?”

“Starting what?” You pout, batting your lashes at him and circling your nipple lightly with the tip of your nail, trying your best to look oblivious and innocent. Well, as innocent as you possibly can while literally covered in sperm. 

“Don’t play dumb. You know what you’re doing.”

See, in many ways, Jungkook is different from any other guy you’ve been with prior. For one, you didn’t meet via horny messages on Tinder at 1 a.m. For two, he’s older, meaning he’s much more intelligent and much more experienced. After years and years of honing in on his craft, he just knows how to fuck. Jungkook is one of the rare few penis-havers in the world who can orgasm back to back; no refractory period necessary. Truly a hidden gem. 

To put it simply, the man is a fucking faucet—one that you can turn off and on whenever you want. 

As if on cue, Jungkook twirls his inked finger, indicating for you to turn around. The other hand squeezes his cock just below the crown to cut off circulation, keeping himself erect. With that, your white converses are planted flat onto the sparse grass as you bend over the back seat, leaning your weight on your elbows. 

It's like whiplash when Jungkook's aggressive persona drops, and he's running his hands all over your body. Up your thighs, over your back, down your arms. He blooms petal-soft kisses on your bare shoulder before whispering in your ear. “Can I go in like this? Or do you need some foreplay?”

“This is fine,” you murmur, jarred by his sudden tenderness. “Perfect, actually.” 

With a hushed ‘alright,’ Jungkook reaches over you to rummage through the pocket of his discarded blazer. A heavy sigh escapes your lips as he pulls out a square foil packet. Condoms were an unwavering constant in your weekend escapades. Jungkook always wears condoms. Normally, that would be a great thing; however, in this situation, it’s like a stab to the heart…

Because if he’s adamant about using protection with you, then that means he’s still sleeping with her, doesn’t it? And it’s not like you can even ask or scold him about it. She’s his wife, after all. You’re the outsider. 

Jungkook hooks his thumb into your panties and pulls them aside. Your glistening folds are on full display, waiting to get pounded mercilessly right on the side of the road. He shoves three digits into your mouth, letting your drool on them a bit before pressing them to your wet cunt. Opening your folds with his index and ring fingers, he lightly dips the middle inside you. He collects some arousal and spreads it to your clit in feathery flicking motions. You cry out, feeling the shocks of a blossoming orgasm. 

“Already dripping, I see.” You can practically hear his cocky, satisfied grin as he stands straight and rolls the condom down his length. “Always so sensitive.”

“Mhm,” you nod frantically, “I always get like this with you.”

“I know you do.” Pulling a cheek to the side, Jungkook cards his sheathed tip through your entrance, making sure to nudge under your clitoral hood with every swipe. Lewd wet sounds ring in your ears as he tortures your hole relentlessly. 

“Kook,” you huff, reaching back to dig your manicured, almond-shaped nails into his skin. “Just put it in!”

Suddenly, Jungkook slams your torso onto the leather. In one swift motion, he’s catching your wrists, pinning them both to your lower back with a single hand. 

“I’ll give you what you want just-” releasing the back of your neck, he spanks you so hard you recoil, “be patient.”

Despite his words, you wait no longer than a minute before he’s guiding his dreamy member right where you want it. Jungkook always gives in quickly. How could he not when you’re ass up, face down, and practically begging? As he sinks into you, and you feel that familiar burn from the initial stretch, your eyes roll back, mouth opening around a silent scream. 

Usually, Jungkook likes to overwhelm you with his entire length all at once. There’s some hesitation this time as he slides in only halfway before stopping. Too much hesitation for your liking. You’re confident he’s testing you. Your assumption is verified when he speaks in that annoying, condescending voice.

“If you want it so bad, come get it.”

“You’re so,” breaking free from his grasp, you press your palms into the seat and lift yourself up with a grumble, “infuriating.”

He hums halfheartedly, head dropping to watch you work yourself onto him. Only a single stroke in, and he can already see you coating him in a shiny, milky dew. “So fucking wet…”

“Can’t help it,” you peep, taking him to the hilt and circling your hips, trying to savor the feeling. You’re no stranger to his cock; how good it makes you feel. You spend every Friday night bathing in that pleasure, forgoing parties and hangouts with your best friends for a romp in the five-star hotel sheets with Jungkook. Still, you squeeze your eyes shut, trying to commit his touch to memory. Perhaps, despite your denial, you recognize that this is temporary. Deep down, you know that someday, all you’ll have left of him is a tragic echo. “I love the way you make me feel.”

“Me too,” he gasps, guiding your movements as his fingers dig into your hips. Clearly interpreting your admission differently than you had meant it. “Your pussy’s like heaven.” 

High on praise and drunk on the sounds you’re coaxing out of him, you whine, dragging your cunt up every inch of his throbbing length before slamming back. Hopefully, the dense forest behind you is enough to insulate the pornographic wails ripping through you. Even if someone somewhere hears, you can’t bring yourself to give a damn. Not when heady pleasure and adrenaline course through your veins like blood. 

Just when you’re about to collapse, arms giving out underneath you, Jungkook grabs you by the neck and holds you flush against his toned chest. “Don’t you run,” he chuckles. The low baritone rumble goes straight to your clit. His warm breath gusts over your skin, contrasting the chilly night air. “Don’t give up on me.”

He’s pounding into you now, choking you tighter than he ever has, but he pecks you so delicately. Lips barely ghosting over the shell of your ear. So gentle and tender. As tears stream down your cheeks for the second time tonight, you can’t help but feel there’s a hidden meaning behind his words.

“What’s wrong?” He smirks, tilting your face, wanting you to look him in the eye as you fall apart. The visual nearly makes you combust. His stringy hair is sticking to his cheeks, flushed from exertion. Even the tattoos littering the expanse of his neck are splotched pink and red. Twisting in his hold, you grab a fistful of his damp waves, fingers tickling his short undercut. “What do you want, baby?”

“Cum…”

“You wanna cum?”

“Please, please, please.” Weak whimpers punch out of you in tandem with his brutal thrusts.

“What do you say?”

“Please, sir?”

“Good girl,” he rewards you with a smack to your sensitive clit, “you can cum. I’ve got you.”

And with his permission, you’re cumming. Your legs shake violently as you’re overcome with blinding, electric gratification. If it wasn’t for Jungkook’s strong arms supporting you, you would’ve toppled face-first into the seat. He fucks you through the height of your orgasm; hips never ceasing, even when everything becomes so intense and sensitive that your body instinctively tries to push him away. He watches your face intently, reading your expressions to ensure he’s milked every last drop of your orgasm before he lets you fall onto the leather.

Even in your hazy state, you catch the breathy string of curses, a telltale sign of his own impending orgasm. “Fuck!” He groans, removing the condom to paint your ass and lower back in hot, white ropes. 

It’s funny, really. 

He refuses to cum with you or inside you, something so intimate and special, but he has no qualms cumming on you. It’s almost like he’s marking you, burning himself into your flesh. Consuming a piece of you every time your bodies come together as one. 

And all the while, his mind is somewhere else as his body swallows you alive. 

“Look at you,” Jungkook laughs, smoothing a palm up and down your spine, rubbing his semen into your skin the same way you had earlier. “I’ve made a mess out of you.” 

That’s true in more ways than one…

Lost in post-nut clarity, your brain barely registers Jungkook maneuvering you both into the car. Closing the door behind him, he moves you onto his lap, your back pressed against his sweaty button-up. Peering down, you see his slacks and boxers still around his ankles, black dress shoes poking out underneath. You’re in only a thong and sneakers, and your makeup is definitely melted. The two of you must look like the biggest sluts ever.

“What’s so funny?” Jungkook mutters, noticing your delirious giggles. 

“Oh, nothing,” you hum, leaning into him. Habitually, he wraps both of his inked arms around your middle. You despise how incredibly natural and serendipitous it feels, almost like you’re meant to be in them.

God __, get your head out of the clouds and return to Earth. 

Life isn’t a romance novel, and you’re not a child anymore. You shouldn’t see the world as quartz-colored and magical. The man is seven years older than you. He has a wife and child. Logistically, it could never, ever work…

But if soulmates exist as they do in the books, you wish on every falling star that Jungkook is yours.

“What are you thinking about?” You coo softly, turning your head to stare into the abyss of his infinite eyes.

Like a moth drawn to a flame, he can’t resist lowering his sinful hand to your most private area, cupping your sex unabashedly. “I want more.”

“You always want more.” 

“So do you,” he laughs, pointing out the way you grind into his touch. Nuzzling into your shoulder, he nips your skin and then soothes his tongue over it like an insincere apology. “Just one more time, okay?”

You nod, head leaning back on his shoulder as you succumb to his skilled fingers, rubbing your clit in tight circles. Jungkook pauses in contemplation before popping his glistening fingers into his mouth. When the taste hits his tongue, his face contorts. He even moans dreamily like you’re the most delicious dessert he’s experienced. The scene has your own brows furrowing, lips parting at just how hot and bothered he’s got you. 

Sensually, he trails the wet pads down, ghosting over a nipple, teasing you on their treacherous journey to your waiting core. He slides them in your wet cunt seamlessly, curling right into your g-spot. They move in a dip and wave that drives you wild, a wet suction noise sounding in the enclosed space. Turned on by your purrs and mewls, Jungkook subtly ruts against you, his plumping cock sliding between your cheeks.

“You’re already close, aren’t you?” He tuts patronizingly. “Gonna cum around my fingers, sweetheart?”

“No…”

“No?”

“Wanna cum with you…”

He stops, realizing what you’re alluding to, before pulling his fingers out and tapping your clit gently. “There’s another condom in my pocket. Can you hand it to me?”

“We don’t need it.”

“Yes, we do. Don’t be foolish.”

“... I’m on the pill,” you suggest hesitantly. Once again, you’re nothing but stupid and irresponsible when it comes to Jungkook. You just want to be with him, that’s all. 

“__,” he starts, voice shadowed with sternness, “give me the condom.”

Realizing he won’t budge, you do as he asks and fish it from his blazer, watching idly as he goes through all the steps—stroking himself to full mass, rolling on a barrier, and then positioning you between his spread legs as he guides you down onto his length with a hand on your hip. 

Cyclical. 

Like clockwork, your jaw drops, eyes screwing shut as you let him invade your space and infiltrate your mind. You don’t believe the two of you have ever tried this position before, but it feels so fucking good. His cock is so deep you can feel it in your fucking stomach. It’s obvious from his groaning and the aggressive spank he gives you that the unexplored angle is affecting him too. 

Outside, light rain begins chiming against the steel roof of his car as you take the first shallow rise of your hips. 

Scratch everything you’ve said about this not being a romance novel.

Distracted by the calming sound, you thoroughly miscalculate how much space you have in his sleek Mercedes Benz and bonk your head on the ceiling.

“Ow,” you wince with an embarrassed giggle.

Hissing at the impact, Jungkook clutches your head, massaging the area gently. “Are you okay?” His voice is muffled, and you can tell he’s trying his best not to laugh. 

“It’s not funny!” You shout playfully, slapping his knee. 

“No, it’s not. I’m sorry.” Chuckling, he moves your hair and places a gentle kiss between your shoulder blades. “You’re cute, that's all.”

Cute? You swoon. 

“Alright baby, keep going. Don’t stop,” Jungkook orders, the heel of his calloused palms pushing at your ass, encouraging you to bounce on his needy cock. A fucked-out sigh escapes him, head falling back for a split second before it jerks back up again, not wanting to miss the view of your perky cheeks rippling as they collide with his solid pelvis. “This position is so sexy.” Overwhelmed, he doesn’t know where to put his hands. He chokes you for a moment, plays with your tits, swats them, grabs your hips, and then finally settles on your clit, flicking it like a light switch.

“Jungkook!” You wail, knees knocking together as you brace yourself. Men you’ve dated in the past struggled to get you off. Sure, they made you feel good, but they couldn’t quite bring you to the edge. It only ever took Jungkook a matter of minutes to have you whimpering and shaking, begging for release. “I can’t take so much! I can’t!”

Ignoring your pleas, Jungkook pilots your right arm around his shoulder, sending you flush against his frame once more. Dipping his head, he sucks the closest nipple into his mouth. Caught off guard, you’re so overstimulated that your hips come to a grinding halt.

“Move,” he commands with his lips sealed around your piercing, sending dizzying vibrations to your sensitive bud. 

“I can’t,” you whimper, back arching off his chest as you try to calm all five tingling senses. 

“Yes, you can.” 

“No…”

Jeon Jungkook was never one to take no for an answer. 

Scooting further down the seat, his large hands clasp behind your knees. He lifts your legs until the heels of your white sneakers are on either side of the driver’s headrest. In this new position, he’s able to pound up into you freely, relentlessly beating into clenching walls. Hitting every single delicious spot inside of you. “Jungkook, please!”

“Please, what?” Honestly, you have no clue what you’re begging for. All you know is that his mushroom tip rigorously stimulating your g-spot is going to have you gushing at any moment. His guttural, sensual groaning does nothing to slow your approaching orgasm. “You want more?” 

As if you weren’t already gasping for air, Jungkook raises your legs to your head, knees locked onto his inner elbows. His fingers intertwine behind your neck, thumbs pressing into the base of your throat as he folds you in half. 

A full fucking nelson. 

“Watch me fuck it.” With a stern grip, he forces your gaze to his thick shaft, sliding in and out of your sopping cunt. Your vision is watery, but you can clearly see just how turned on you are, creamy juices coating his entire shaft. “Open it, baby. Watch what I do to you.” 

Reaching both hands under your thighs, you spread your lips, getting a better look at him completely destroying you.

“Isn’t it so pretty?” Jungkook grunts, speech slurred as his arousal lulls him into a delirious, catatonic state. “Tell me what you see, baby.”

“So pretty, Kook.” You’re simply playing into his dirty talk, but the sight of your bodies connecting, becoming one, is profoundly gorgeous. “So wet…”

“Yeah? Who’s pussy is this?”

“Yours.”

That sends him into a frenzy, thrusts becoming so punctuated and violent that his cock accidentally slips out. 

“Put it back in, put it back in!” You chant, frantically shoving his length into you. The yelp you chortle out is accompanied by the sound of your hand smacking against the foggy car window as your climax engulfs you. “I love it!”

“I love yo-”

He quickly cuts himself off, but everything stops when the sentence fragment hits the air. 

Is your brain playing sick, twisted jokes on you… or was he really just about to say he loved you?

Before you can even process what’s happening, your biological responses take over, sending through the most earth-shattering, world-bending, mind-boggling orgasm you’ve ever had. Everything goes blank. Your eyes cloud with splotches and stars. Your ears ring with static and white noise, blurring the sound of Jungkook cumming underneath you, and the pouring rain outside, splashing against concrete. 

This time, he doesn’t pull out, just works through both of your orgasms with gentle ruts and vulnerable whimpers.

After you’ve both calmed down and your heaves have diminished to a slow, even pattern, he pulls out, crumpling the used condom into a loose napkin he found in the center console. Still on his lap and in his arms, you watch intently as Jungkook leans his head back, eyes closing as he inhales deeply. To you, he looks almost… peaceful. 

The moon trickles in through the thin streams on the window, reflecting on his face like stained glass—something that was once so clear and pure now jaded with somber shades of blue. Sad, but still beautiful, you think. 

Delicately, you trace a finger over the black ink decorating his skin. You sit silently for a while, basking in the comfortable aura, simply enjoying one another’s company, before you finally speak.

“Why this?” You peep, pointing to the dainty letters at the base of his neck.

“It’s my daughter’s name.” He counters playfully, the faintest hint of a smile on his pierced lips.

“Well, duh, I know that,” you roll your eyes with a giggle, “but why here?”

“Yul is like air to me.” 

Humming in contemplation, you continue your journey over the endless swirls and loops. During sex, the first three buttons of his shirt popped open, exposing the canvas of his chest. You feel a thick, dark cloud loom over you when you reach a certain tattoo, the one that’s plagued your mind ever since you first saw it. 

Another name is engraved right above his heart in the same delicate font as Yul’s:

Seol. 

“Yul, please. Enough.” If Jungkook had a dollar for every time he's said that in the last twenty-two minutes, he’d be nearly as rich as his boss, sitting directly in front of him on a very important Zoom call. “Daddy is working.”

Jumping at the sudden inflection of his voice, the little girl on his lap pulls her tiny hand away. For the most part, Yul was well-behaved. However, working from home proved to be an obstacle that he and his clingy toddler have yet to overcome. 

She’s interrupted his meeting three times already. First, cutting off his proposal with the Baby Shark theme song, blaring from her Pinkfong tablet that he’d forgotten to mute. Second, peeking above his desk with her space buns and doe eyes to show his colleagues the latest addition to her squishmallow collection. The last straw was when she squeezed his nose. 

With watery eyes and warbled lips, Yul blinks at Jungkook, heartbroken and confused as to why he didn’t make that funny noise she loves so much. Quickly, her gaze averts to her chunky legs, swinging aimlessly as she attempts to hold back the tears.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Jungkook sighs, tacking on an apology before turning his screen off. “Bunny,” he lifts her chin with his index finger, another palm flat on her protruding tummy, “please, don’t cry. You’re not in trouble. Daddy just-”

The ring of a doorbell interrupts him.

“__?” Jungkook questions, baby at his hip as he stands in the doorway before you. “What are you doing here?”

You gulp. You weren’t expecting to see him.

Usually, you spoke to Seulgi. You’ve only ever seen Jungkook in passing, sparing quick greetings before he’s out the door. It worked in your favor, really, because for whatever reason, you felt extremely awkward around him.

Almost like that gross nervousness you get when you’re around someone you find so incredibly attractive it makes you uncomfortable…

Maybe it’s because he’s covered in tattoos and piercings. Maybe it’s because he’s a dad. Your group of fellow horny twenty-something-year-old friends have told you mythical stories and fantasies about older men. Freshly turned thirty-year-old men. Men like Jungkook. Dilfs. Something about that potent dad nut… Like, you know it works. 

It’s inappropriate; you know it is. You’ve always tried your best to ignore the feral thoughts.

Today seems to be putting your mental strength to the test because Jungkook is dressed in baggy gray sweats, long dark hair slicked back into a ponytail. A few loose strands dangle devilishly in front of his eyes, taunting you.

“I-It’s 10… I’m supposed to be babysitting.”

“I’m working from home today. My wife didn’t tell you?”

With wide eyes and hot cheeks, you shake your head. “I’m sorry for bothering you,” you stutter, stepping back and preparing to make a mad dash to your hand-me-down Honda Civic. “I’ll just… be on my way then.” 

“Actually.” An icy grip on your wrist stops you. “I could use some help. This one-” he nods his head towards Yul, stuck to him like velcro, “-is being a bit needy today.” 

One look at her turns your flustered gape into a smile. The past month with her has been more difficult than you’d imagined. Yul was incredibly sweet and intuitive, but unbearably shy. Building a relationship with the girl was challenging, but you were determined to overcome it. “No way,” you frown animatedly, tickling her leg with the tip of your finger, “Yul would never.”

A giggle or two had been the goal. Instead, she buries her face into her father’s shoulder.

“Don’t take it personally,” Jungkook orders, noticing the defeated slump in your shoulders. “She’s always like this with new people.”

Seulgi had warned you that Yul would take a while to come around. Hopefully, it’ll happen organically. But for now, a little gift or two wouldn’t hurt your efforts, you supposed last night while running errands. Reaching into your purse, you pull out a bottle of non-toxic, baby-friendly nail polish. “Yul, look what I have!”

“Wow,” Jungkook plays along, gently nudging her head out of his neck. “Bunny, look!”

He calls her Bunny? 

You’re in for it now. 

Plump fingers wrap around the plastic, taking it out of your own with an awe-stricken stare. She holds it up right in front of Jungkook’s nose. “Pink.”

“Mhm, that’s right,” he confirms, pecking her temple. “Now, Daddy has to get back to work. Can you stay with __ for a bit?”

She looks at him, then at you, then at him again, then back at you, and finally, landing on the nail polish, giving her father a reluctant nod. You knew it would come in handy. Despite her agreeance, Yul still stretches the neck of his shirt with her tiny fists as she’s transferred into your arms. 

Somehow, you managed to survive that painfully awkward encounter…

Only to be thrown into another one immediately after. 

See, you’ve always known Yul was a daddy’s girl. On good days, the toddler would grab you by the hand and guide you around the house, giving you a tour of everything that belonged to her father. His shoes at the door. His coat on the hook. Even taking you into the bathroom to show you his shampoo bottle. But that fact was never more apparent than now, as Yul stands in the middle of the living room on the verge of tears.

“Daddy?”

“He’s working, sweetheart. Remember?” You coo on your knees in front of her. You’re quick to redirect her. “I like your shoes.”

The sniffles stop as she glances down at her white sneakers. “Mine…” she takes a hesitant step back, mistaking your compliment as an attempt to swindle her out of them. 

“That’s right,” you laugh, “they’re so pretty, just like you.”

She blinks at you for a moment, and then begins stomping her little foot: heel first. When she’s finally able to kick off her left shoe, she bends all the way over, pressing her palms flat against the hardwood floor. It’s the most uncoordinated way you’ve ever seen anyone pick something up. 

Without warning, Yul throws the shoe across the room. Well, that had been her intention, you assume. She had cocked her arm back too far and released too early, making it land behind her. 

Oh no, she hates you. 

With an excited grunt and a bounce, Yul points to the sneaker—its clear sole sparkling pink and purple.

“Oh,” you sigh in relief. “They light up?” 

“Yesh.” Plopping right onto her butt, she takes the other one off, repeating the process. “Like this!” Her arms stretch out and she clenches her two little front teeth, executing the most stellar charade of a light you’ve ever seen. 

It’s a small breakthrough, but you’ll take it. 

Then you paint her nails, just like you said you would. She’s as patient as a toddler could be, but her tiny toe keeps curling under the tickle of the brush, making pink polish bleed outside of the lines. 

“My goodness,” you groan, admiring the messy, albeit adorable, result. “You’re so cute! Wait until your dad sees you.” 

Yul shrieks wildly, smacking both hands over her mouth as she hobbles to her feet. You watch with confused giggles as the milk-drunk baby stumbles down the corridor. You figure out where she's going too late. 

Yul stands on her tippy toes, jumping to click open the door to Jungkook’s office with a loud creak. 

“Yul!” You whisper-shout. “Don’t-”

“Daddy!” She calls, stepping a single foot into the room, showing off the fresh paint job. “So cute!” 

Literally, your only job today was to keep Yul preoccupied while Jungkook worked, and you failed. Your breath catches in your throat, awaiting his response. 

“So pretty,” he gasps, “now go play, baby. I’m almost done.” 

A relieved exhale flies past your lips. 

Something you’ve picked up on from years of babysitting is that little girls aren’t allowed to compliment themselves. They’re always told it’s rude or conceited. Jungkook does neither, and you find that so refreshing. 

“Close the door, please,” he orders before she runs away, “gently.” Yul does her very best to shut the door quietly and then sprints back to you. 

The next few hours go smoothly. You discovered that the green-hating toddler has an affinity for avocados after giving her a bite of your toast. “Mmm!” She had hummed, looking at you with wide eyes. With a full belly and squishmallow in hand, Yul went out like a light for her afternoon nap, giving you time to catch up on some reading. 

“How was she?” You didn’t even hear him come out of his office, so the deep voice makes you jump, eyes tracking the sound. He’s leaning against a kitchen counter, one tattooed hand stuffed in his pocket and the other wrapped around a water bottle. It’s a thick one too, and his fingers still touch. 

“Better,” you cough, “she’s sleeping now.”

He hums halfheartedly, dark irises boring into you as he takes a sip. Without Yul to soften the edges, Jungkook is… intimidating, to say the least. “What are you reading?”

“The Catcher in the Rye…” you peep, quickly closing it. “I know, it’s kinda lame.”

“No, not lame at all. Anyone who thinks that is lying to themselves… or is just being a contrarian.” He leans his elbows against the dark granite island, fingers crossing as he stares at you. You’re sitting idle across the room, but his presence looms over you. He has this way of making you feel like he’s in your head, listening to everything you’re thinking. 

You pray he’s not. If he is, you'll definitely be fired. 

“I can’t tell which one you are yet.”

You can’t tell if he’s joking or not, but the ‘yet’ makes you come clean, shifting in your spot on the leather couch. “... Both.”

“Right,” he smirks, tongue fiddling with his lip ring, almost like he’s taunting you. “That’s one of my favorite books, actually. I relate to it in many ways.”

Your fingers dance across the red cover, concealing hundreds of pages of isolation, emptiness, and the heavy dread of passing time. What an awful thing to relate to. Sometimes, when you get too engrossed in the text, glimmers of yourself bleed within the lines too. 

“You’re an English major, right?”

“Oh, um, I’m not in school at the moment… I just read for fun.”

“Well, you have an Associate’s degree.” Him knowing that information about you makes you think he asked the previous question with the intention of baiting you into this conversation. “Why not get your Bachelor’s?”

“I don’t know. It’s… complicated.” 

Why is he interrogating you? What does he want? For you to confess that the fear of becoming a full-fledged adult makes you not want to go back to college? 

“Life is complicated. You’d be ridiculous to not go back.” The audacity should make you mad, but he speaks with so much authority that you’re dumbfounded. His head tilts, eyes squinting as they shift to the ceiling, debating something. His tongue clicks when he finally makes his decision. “Follow me; I have something I want to show you.” 

With the curl of two thick fingers, Jungkook calls you to follow him down the hallway. You blink for a moment, gushing at the suggestive motion of his hand. Shaking your head at the evil, intrusive thought, you rise to your feet. 

Just like a child, you have to skip to catch up to his long strides. Your gaze trails along white walls; there are pictures of him and Yul, Yul and Seulgi, but not a single one of them all together. 

Now that you think about it, any affection you’ve ever seen in the household was reserved for Yul and Yul only. Seems like trouble in paradise…

You shouldn’t speculate.

The heavy wooden door creaks as Jungkook holds it open for you. You’re not sure what you expected his room to look like, but it certainly wasn’t this. The rest of the house is pretty modern, consisting of sleek blacks, whites, and woods. Countertops designed with icy swirled marble. Everything has this cold, impersonal vibe, but this room is the total opposite. The walls are baby blue, decorated top to bottom with dreamy clouds. You spot a chubby yellow star peeking out from underneath one of them, adorned with a hand-painted smiley face. On his nightstand, there’s a pastel purple foldable record player. Standing behind it is a single vinyl: Beautiful Boy by John Lennon. 

“Since you like to read,” Jungkook coughs, turning your attention to a sleek bookcase, stuffed to the brim with hundreds of titles you’ve never even heard of. “I figured you’d appreciate my collection.”

“Yeah, it’s…” The words trail off as you step forward. On a whim, your finger extends, tracing the delicate spine of a well-loved book. A low chuckle brings you back to reality; you peep, cheeks heating up in embarrassment as you yank your hand away. “It’s… really cool.”

“You can borrow something if you’d like. Does anything catch your eye?” Plopping down onto the computer chair, Jungkook rummages through his desk drawer and pulls out a tiny black case. You didn’t even know he wore glasses, and when he nudges them comfily onto the bridge of his nose, you nearly melt. As if he could get any more attractive.

“N-No,” you stutter as he wheels closer. Even though you’re towering over him, you still feel so small in his presence. You pray to God he can’t sense how incredibly nervous he makes you. “Not really.” 

“You wear your heart on your sleeve, you know,” he hums, low and sly. “Do I make you nervous?”

“No!” You peep in shock. Is the man a fucking mindreader? 

“Right.” Jungkook peers over the rim of his lenses, dark eyes glimmering in the whimsical glow of the room. “So __, what do you want to be?”

“A teacher,” you say, playing with your fingers.

“My wife wanted to be a teacher, too.” He shoots you the softest, gentlest smile. “She ended up doing business instead.” 

“Why?” You ask, gnawing on your bottom lip. You don’t mean to pry, but this is the first time you’ve ever actually talked to him in a meaningful way. Something about him intrigues you, like a puzzle you’re determined to find all the pieces to. 

“Ah, well,” he sighs, inked fingers scratching at the back of his neck. “We figured it’d be best for our family if we both pursued more lucrative career paths. I switched my major from English to finance.” You light up at the confession, the similarity putting you at ease. “I’m sorry if I was abrasive earlier,” he frowns, “I settled down young and had to sacrifice a lot, so I encourage you to go for something that fulfills you.” With his elbows on his knees, he leans closer to you. “I think you’d be a fantastic teacher. You take care of my daughter well.”

“Thank you,” you peep, cheeks heating up at the compliment. “I mean… you didn’t have Yul that young.” He tried to comfort you, so it’s only fair you do the same, right? “I think your late twenties are a great time to have children.”

Almost immediately, his face drops, eyes glazing over with something so raw. So… longing. You’ve never seen anything like it before. The corners of his nose twitch before he composes himself. “Yeah, I suppose they are.” His pink tongue toys with his lip ring, swiftly changing the subject. “You seem surprised.” 

“I guess I just wasn’t expecting all this.” 

“Expecting what?” 

“I don’t know,” you laugh clumsily, “books.” You mentally curse yourself as soon as the answer comes out. Really, __? Books? 

“What?” He starts, raising a brow at you. “You thought I couldn’t read?”

Thankfully, Jungkook takes your comment playfully. 

“Maybe,” you respond in the same lighthearted manner, feeling a bit more comfortable in his presence, “I also didn’t expect your room to look like a little boy’s room.”

All of the cheerfulness in the air evaporates as Jungkook glares at you with a clenched jaw and flared nostrils. Cleary irate. You’ve triggered a landmine.

“Jungkook, I’m-”

“Stop talking.” He raises a hand, cutting you off before you finish the sentence. Turning his back to you, he wheels over to his desk. “You can leave. You’re done for the day.” 

Looking back, you know why he was so upset that day. You had put the puzzle pieces together a while ago. You’re unsure of the details, and asking for them feels wrong. Silence feels wrong, too, though. Until now, you’ve never dared to speak up. 

You have no idea how to navigate something of this magnitude, but you just want him to know that you’re here. That you’re trying.

Cautiously, with your hand still on the tattoo, you whisper: “He must’ve been so beautiful, Jungkook…”

The thumb that had been drawing soft shapes into your side comes to an eerie pause as he freezes under you. When you look at him, your heart shatters. His chin is caved in with little dents, eyes glazed over with so much emotion. You’ve never seen a human being look so broken.

“Get off me.”

You frown at the shift in his demeanor. “Why?”

Remaining tight-lipped, Jungkook physically removes you from his lap, dumping you onto the seat next to him.

“Why can’t we ever talk about anything serious?”

He remains quiet as he slides his underwear up, not sparing you a single glance. When he speaks, his tone is painfully detached. “Like what?”

“Like what you said,” you answer curtly. 

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You were about to.”

Shaking his head with a cynical chuckle, he begins buttoning his pants, pretending you don’t exist. Like you’re not right beside him, falling to pieces. 

Your eyes dart to the ceiling, lashes fluttering rapidly as you mull over what to say next. You guess now would be an appropriate time to ask him what you’ve wanted for weeks. Blinking does nothing to combat your unshed tears when you realize that his answer has the potential to destroy everything you’ve been dreaming about. Everything you’ve hoped for. “When are you going to leave her?”

“Don’t be ridiculous.”

“I’m not being ridiculous, Jungkook!” Shaking your head furiously, you feel the first hints of anger in your chest, tears threatening to spill at any moment. “I’m not! I see the way you look at me!”

“What the fuck did you think was going to happen? Huh?” Finally, he’s paying attention to you, just not in the way you hoped. His face is beet red as he leans closer. “Don’t tell me you actually thought we were going to end up together, __. Seriously? You’re my babysitter! You’re seven years younger than me! This isn’t some fucking fairytale; it’s life! There’s no such thing as happily-ever-afters—grow up and stop acting like a damn child!”

“No, Jungkook,” you croak, fully sobbing as you push an angry finger into his chest. “You’re the one who’s acting childish! I may not be the most mature person, but at least I know how to accept love!”

“So let’s say I divorce my wife, then what? Huh?” He seethes. “I get partial custody? I only see Yul on weekends? Every other week? She grows up in a broken home? I refuse to ruin my daughter’s life like that.”

You take a shaky breath, eyes shifting to the car floor, the air fresher on his mirror, the window. Anywhere but him. The way Jungkook explains your make-believe future together is nothing how you envisioned it. Maybe he’s right. Maybe he’s just a fucking asshole. Neither thought process eases the pain.

“But you’re okay with ruining mine?”

For a moment, his features soften, and you see a glimmer of guilt wash over him. It fizzles out just as fast as it came. “You’re being dramatic.” Jungkook steps outside, tucking his shirt into his pants. “Get dressed.” 

With jittery hands and blurry eyes, you grab your discarded lace bra, the one you had bought just for tonight, and slide it on your shoulders. When you pick your shirt up, you see that it’s ripped and tattered. Completely destroyed. 

“Here,” Jungkook mumbles, tossing you his blazer as he watches you in the rearview. 

Once you’re dressed, you awkwardly slide into the passenger seat. The scent of his cologne makes your head pound and your stomach flip. 

“I want to go home.”

His lips part, preparing to persuade you otherwise. The hotel room he booked is ready and waiting, just as it is every Friday. He decides against it, simply murmuring an ‘okay’ before putting the keys in the ignition and starting the engine. 

“Do you want to get something to eat before I drop you off?” 

You just want your dad. 

“I just want to go home.”

Other than the whoosh of splashing puddles and your soft sniffles, the ride to your house is painfully silent. Leaning your head against the window, you watch the moon. For miles and miles, it never changes. It’s stagnant, frozen in time, surrounded by nothing but endless blackness. 

“Stop crying! I can’t stand it anymore!” Jungkook shouts, hitting the steering wheel with his open palm, finally growing uncomfortable from your non-stop tears. The sudden outburst makes you flinch. Sighing heavily, he pinches the bridge of his nose. “I’m sorry for yelling at you. Just… stop crying, please.”

You sink further into your seat, curling your lips into your mouth to suppress a sob.

“I’m not worth your tears, __.”

You feel nothing but relief when he finally turns onto your street, stopping all the way at the end, concealed by the night and the shadows of overhanging trees. 

“Am I picking you up next Friday?” He asks just before you leave. 

With raw cheeks and a scowl, you slam the door in his face. 

Your feet are so heavy that the sidewalk sinks under you like quicksand. No matter how many steps you take, the comfort of your house seems out of reach. Too far gone. Confusion weighs on your shoulders. You should feel proud, empowered even, but that voice in the back of your mind smothers any sense of relief. 

Deep down, you know this isn’t going to be the last weekend you spend with Jungkook. 

© chryblossomjjk 2022 [do not copy, translate or repost]