#me every time i read a guy refer to someone as a female: oh. immediate cringe factor lol

[queenerdloser]

i have such a visceral reaction to using "female" when referring to women in fiction that it actually draws me way out of the narrative when it's done. like. stop that.

[sweetaesuga]

in your eyes | m

pairing: jungkook x female reader!

genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, fratboy jk! ex-fuckboy jk! bookworm reader! friends to lovers!

warnings: language, insecurity, drinking, dom jungkook! fingering in public, exhibitionism, female masturbation, grinding, oral (m), dirty talk, light choking, degrading (slut/whore), squirting, creampie, unprotected sex (both are clean but stay safe), bathroom sex, riding, pinning.

word count: 10.6k+

synopsis: jungkook always sees you like the only girl in the world, and you just see him as a fuckboy. OR jungkook just wants a chance🥺

↳ a/n: first time i ever write a fic or smut please enjoy🤧 

You were only sixteen when you met him. He stepped into the classroom in all dark baggy clothes in an uneasy walk. At first glance you would of thought he was a timid person. Wrong, under all of that bullshit you see an egoistic and self-assured asshole that you're somehow happy to call your friend. You even learned that it was facade. Jungkook was a boy with a good heart who always remained loyal to all of his friends.

Jungkook just turned seventeen when he met you, noticing you straight away when you had a nice sense of fashion. You always had on an accessory that matched with the color of your shirt or jeans. You also always wore a bit of bright colors in your outfits. The bright unique makeup is what caught his attention too. He was proud to call you his friend.

When you both happily entered the same college along with your best friend Hayoon, everything changed. He began hanging out with a new group of friends, they were all older than them and deeply influenced him. He joined a fraternity then and began spending less time with you. He only came over to study or celebrate your birthday. His busyness merely reminded you how he preferred to spend his time hooking up with random girls every week rather than play board games with you or rant to him about your new book you were reading.

You don't exactly remember when he started but you do remember all the girls that talked about how amazing he was in bed which solely added more uncertainty on you. You even walked in on him and a freshman girl going at it in one of the sorority’s room at a party you were both attending.

The memory of when he started crushing on you was foggy to you but he always remembered it in a flash. It was when he had a taekwondo match, where circumstantially Jungkook's girlfriend, who wasn't really his girlfriend, at the time couldn't make it. His hopes were put down by the thought of someone not supporting him, since he always tried his best with his own cheerleader being there.

In the middle of the match, his eyes scanned the bleachers, wishing for someone to be there. His wishes were granted as he saw you there. Standing awkwardly, you gave him a little wave with a smile. His chest heaved in glee, sending you a quick smile before he returned to his match.

The sound of you screaming his name when he won, put a enormous smile on his face. Jungkook watched you run down the bleachers, apologizing to all the people you were bumping through. You leaped into his arms easily.

Your next words to him were a blur since Jungkook was too focused on just having you in his arms. He was grinning happily at you, hair sticking to his forehead. His heart heaved with warmth as you hugged him tightly.

He was twenty-one and you were twenty when he realized he had a crush on you.

You were seventeen when you realized you liked him.

But you were nineteen when you realized you would never be good enough for him.

"He then had the audacity to ask me if I slept with anyone else! The nerve of that guy," you felt like your ear was going to bleed out just by listening to your best friend blabber about her ex-boyfriend.

"Why don't you just stop talking to him? I don't know...block his number or something?" you suggested, very uninterested in this conversation about her ex-boyfriend contacting her. She could simply just block him out her life and be done with him. 

You stared at the worn out rubber of the tip of your black converse. She popped the gum in her mouth, the sound became annoying to you. Hayoon squinted her eyes at you, trying to find something to say to argue back to you. She instead changed the subject. "Where were you on Saturday?"

"Studying like the rest of the students here," you moved to rest your weight onto your right leg. "I just can't seem to understand how finals are coming up and some people are out here partying? The library was packed when I got there."

"Yeah well I wouldn't know because I didn't go," she grinned at you. "Instead I went to a party because I'm not a loser like you!" Hayoon giggled to herself and you rolled your eyes. "Also," she popped the gum loudly. "Jungkook was asking for you. Calling for his dream girl. . .or something like that—I don't know can't remember—too drunk you know?"

Your ears perked up to that. "Really?" you tucked a piece of hair behind your ear that got in the way and leaned forward. "Did you remember why he was looking for me?"

Hayoon grinned again. "Even if I do know why would you care? Don't you hate him or something?" she smiled evilly and threw her head back.

You froze and leaned back to your seat. You know what she was trying to do and it was never going to happen.

You were never going to give Jeon Jungkook a chance.

Jungkook stumbled into the library, eyes searching for you immediately. There was nearly a crowd of students that were preparing for finals. "Hey have you guys seen Y/N?" he asked a study group. A girl in your class answered him, telling him that you were somewhere by the windows.

Of course you were, he thought to himself. You would be seated at your usual spot. He walked over to the windows and spotted you straight away. Watching your figure become closer as he walked further, he took the sandwich out of his bag. "Hey Y/N!" you already knew that voice. You looked up at Jungkook. As usual he looked drop-dead gorgeous. He wore his usual dark baggy outfit, a black cargo jogger and a much darker hoodie with some black combat boots. He was showing off his helix piercing and his fresh new haircut.

"Nice haircut," you referred to his undercut and the fact that he was showing forehead. "Seems like you spent a lot of time on it."

"Yeah! Just for you," he smiled, his cheeks being pushed up. You let out a heavy sigh, clearly not in the mood for his flirtatiousness. "Got you a sandwich, by the way," he laid it in front of you.

You let out a small smile and took it from him, trying not to show how your mouth got watery so quickly. "Thanks, you didn't have to though," he shook his head.

"I don't want you starving to death," he sat down next to you, shoulder pressing against yours. "What are you studying for?" his nose nuzzled your ear. You rolled your eyes and shoved him away, ignoring the goosebumps his warm breath caused.

"Just getting my notes ready. Wanna highlight or color code it but feel like it's going to fuck up everything. Also don't wanna be those fucking girls that always have to make their fucking notes pretty. Also, do I look tired?" he studied your face for any features that made you seem exhausted. "I was up till two in morning watching these two Indian guys build a pool."

His eyes lit up. "Oh my god, I come across from those too."

"I know they came up all over my fucking Youtube recommendations. I got sucked into binge watching them. It makes me feel fucking lazy to be honest, the amount of fucking water they carry back and forth. I wouldn’t be able to do that.”

Jungkook snickered and made a note of how much you swore. "I need to make a swear jar for you. You swear too much."

"Not even," you laughed back at him and nudged his shoulder. "I'm just a little frustrated and stressed right now," his gaze dropped on the purple pins in your hair, holding each side of your hair. "I called my mom and she said to not stress over this, but you know how I get," you frowned and turned to him. He finally took in your appearance. Your bright purple eyeshadow with purple gems adorning the top of it. You wore a purple flare pants and a white long sleeved, deep v-line crop top. His eyes dropped down to your cleavage, trying to see if you had a bra on.

"Holy shit Y/N!" the students around him shushed him. He burned up and muttered a sorry to them, you giggled at how embarrassed he looked. "You look amazing. What's the special occasion?"

"Nothing," you shook your head, a smile still on your face. "Can't I dress up once in awhile?" Jungkook raised an eyebrow at you, knowing that you normally only wear outfits like this when they’re new or it’s the first week of school. "Okay," you dragged your word out. "I got this outfit last week and really wanted to use it today. It's cute right?"

"Yeah, really cute," he toyed with your hair pins, messing up your hair.

Neglecting his comment, you carried on. "I even got up in early in the morning to do my makeup. If I'm gonna show up wearing a new outfit, I might as well have a cute ass face to go with it," you frowned when you remembered something. "And I realized I don't have different color hair pins, they're all purple so thank fuck the fucking pants are purple."

"Well I think you look very cute, Y/N. Boop!" he poked your nose gently. You swatted his hand away, warning him to stop but all you're given is a large bunny smile. "Come on, eat your sandwich. I didn't just come all the way over here searching for you just to talk to you."

"Actually you did bitch."

"Oof, swear jar," he rested his palm out in front you. You took a bite out of the sandwich, placing a quarter on his palm. "No a dollar, Y/N."

"No! What the fuck—wait!" he held out his palm again. "That's not fucki—hold up, you can't just say a dollar," you whined and grabbed your bag. "I don't have money growing out of my ass."

"I don't know that yet. I'm gonna have to check to make sure," you threw a dollar at him. He laughed and picked it up.

"I know your kind," you spatted at him and tossed the other two dollars at him which he easily caught. "Wanna drain my f-freaking bank account."

"Oh come on, I want you to be my sugar mama," he jested, leaning forward to give you a huge smug.

"Sucks to be you actually. I'm looking to be a sugar baby, not a sugar mama," you glanced over your shoulder towards him. His laugh echoed and you watched as students gave him a dirty look from how loud it was.

"Of course. You're the brokest bitch in the city no one actually wants you to be their sugar mama," you gasped at his words.

"Am not!"

"Are so!" you both laughed at each other. His hand searched for yours underneath the table. He must've noticed how tensed up you had gotten when he found it, managing to wrap your smaller fingers into his. "I've been meaning to talk to you by the way."

You groaned, knowing where this will be going. "Jungkook, stop I'm not in the mood," you caught a quick glimpse of the time. "Look, I have to go, my bus will be coming soon." You don't let him mention anything else. Bolting out of the library, you leave a crestfallen Jungkook behind.

He shook his head and took the half eaten sandwich you also left behind. He trailed behind you, backpack threatening to fall down his arm. You proceeded to walk to the bus stop, Jungkook just close behind. "Didn't see you at the party on Saturday?" the voice came from behind you. You opt to ignore it but by the sound of his voice it was easy to tell that he has been dying to ask this question. When you didn't answer him, he tried again. "Seriously where were you on Saturday?"

You sunk down on the bench. "None of your business."

"Well, I was kind of worried about you. I thought you were going to be there so that's why I came," he took a seat right besides you. "Once I saw you weren't there, I left."

"I was at the library studying for finals," you weren't sure why you were telling him this.  After his little confession your heart felt weird. If you hadn't told him though, he probably would've guessed it. Still, he needed confirmation.

"What? Why didn't you tell me? We could’ve studied together!" he complained, nudging his shoulder with yours.

"Jungkook stop, I know what you're doing," you glared at him, wanting to get away. He frowned and reached over to hold you. "I already told you no," you hissed, disregarding the way his eyes appeared sunken at your response.

"Why not? I already told you, I'm not messing around anymore. I genuinely want to settle down with someone," he stared into your eyes with such intensity you felt like your brain was going to explode. Your ears took in his words slowly. "I want to be with you."

"Jungkook, please—"

"Come on, one date. I swear to god I've changed," he ranted. He's always been very keen on having a chance with you, but with all those girls that he used to take home you felt otherwise. You would listen to the girls on how good Jungkook was. How good he looked at night in the dark moonlight. How he would manhandle them in random places. How his muscles would appear every time he flexed them. How those hips of his were a miracle. You would be lying to yourself if you said you didn't ever want to see him that way too.

"I'm flattered, I really am—I just really don't want to be with someone like you. I'm sorry," you apologized, brushing a piece of hair behind your ear.

He blinked then squinted his eyes at you. "What do you mean someone like me?" He sounded somewhat offended at your words.

"You used to fuck around!" you fumed and threw your hands up. The bus was coming down the road towards the two of you. "I don't like that."

"Why not?" He's way too stubborn to let you go, you forgot.

"Because...I just don't okay? Lets leave it there," you stood up and walked over to the bus once it opened its doors. He followed close behind. Before you can enter your dollar into the machine, he does it for you.

The bus driver smiled at him while you glared at him. You walked to the back of the bus, smiling to all the other passengers but secretly upset. Jungkook still followed you like a lost puppy. You slid down in the seat. Your left arm feeling the side of the bus once you properly sat down. "Here, I'll pay you back," you hold out the dollar bill but he sat still in his seat.

"Well shit, sugar mama not right now," You sighed and put it back in your bag. You heard him snort.

"Come on, tell me why you won't give me a chance and I'll leave you alone," he offered. He held your eyes for a moment before you let out a breath of air and looked away.

If he’ll leave you alone, then you must have to say why you won’t grant him a chance with you, a chance for him to become your boyfriend.

"I'm too insecure for you," he opened his mouth but you shushed him. "I'm not...how do I put this? I'm not like them?" you questioned and glanced over at him. He had a look of worry washed all over his face. "The girls that you were with are those who are all popular, party all day, and are very attractive. They all do casual sex, and I don't want be that type of person, I want something serious. Like you have dated Soojin! She's really pretty, makes me gay even," you chuckled at yourself. "That's not the point though. If I'm with you, all I could ever think about is the girls you were with and how different I am from them. I just can't be with someone when all I'll ever think about are my insecurities with them. So how could I possibly ever be good enough for you?" you don't look at him after that.

He sighed and gripped your small hand into his. You almost cringed when you remembered how sweaty your hands were. "That's why I'm after you though. You're not like them. I wanted a change. You are good enough, you'll always be good enough for me. Hell, I feel like I’m not good enough for you. And I really don't care if you're any of that other stuff. I still want to have a shot with you." you don't realize how long you both were holding eye contact. The two of you don't look away from each other however. You don’t even comprehend how close you two have gotten. He reached over to push back a strand of your hair behind your ear. Your breath hitched.

"I don't know Jungkook, I'm just really unsure," you admitted and leaned back in your seat to create some distance between you two. "My mind isn't clear right now but I highly doubt I would want to give you a chance."

"Really? You don't want me?" he bit his lip and glanced over at you. "How can I change your mind?" you stopped functioning when he reached over to press up against your thigh. His fingers travelled over to your inner thigh. He kept rubbing circles around there for a few minutes, hand drawing closer each time. Your cheeks grew crimson once you wrapped your mind around on how wet you become so quickly, and he barely even touched you what an embarrassment.

You were only getting aroused quickly because of how long your dry spell was. You haven’t being touched in so long that you craved it so much, no matter who it was with.

"What are you doing?" you hated how you felt so hot under his eyes at the moment. He brushed you aside until you repeated your question again.

"Nothing," his lips curved upwards. He faced forward, ignoring the fact that his hand was practically between your legs.

"Jungkook, stop that!" you hissed and whacked his hand away. He withdrew his hand from your inner thigh but still kept it at the top of your thigh. His thumb gently tracing circles into your skin.

"Bet you're fucking wet under that," he commented. You caught his stare, watching his eyes fixed on your cleavage. A smile forms across his face when he takes notice of how you're rubbing your thighs together. "Don't be scared, I'll go easy on you. You wearing those pink panties that I love on you?"

You knew what he was referring to. Leaving your laundry on your bed wasn't a good idea especially when an excited Jungkook was coming over to watch a new episode of You, but he didn't give you time to pick it up so your baby pink lace underwear was out on the sheets. "Shut up. I'm not going to let you do shit," you furiously crossed your arms over your chest. His eyes flickered back down to your breasts that were shoved up into a tighter position.

"Really? You say that but you're on the verge of asking me to touch you. I know it, Y/N," you bit your lip hard to avoid saying something. You heard him laugh. "It's okay, no one will notice, if you're a good slut and keep your mouth shut." Your eyes widened at his words.

You’ve never been called a degrading name in bed. With the two boyfriends you’ve been with, they always called you loving names that had gotten boring quick as well as their vanilla sex. Yet somehow it stirred you up at the thought of being called a slut, especially Jungkook calling you that.

But it was almost like a completely different Jungkook had surfaced. You knew he was some sort of sex god but didn't expect him to have such a dirty mouth. You decided to test the waters. A little fun wouldn’t hurt.

You spread your legs a little wider, inviting him to get closer. He stared into your eyes as you stared down at his hand. "Unbutton your pants," he demanded. Your eyes expanded even more at his words. You were just thinking of getting him eager not to do something here.

You looked around to see if anyone could see or hear you two but they were all facing forward and minding their own business. Your hands went to unbutton your pants, pushing your zipper down. "Open your legs," you did as you were told. "Wider, wider," your right leg rested on top of his muscular thigh. "You wet enough?" he asked, reaching down to your core. You shivered when his hand entered your underwear. He sinks his two fingers in and you whined. He took his fingers out, gazing on the glistening wetness on it.

"Dirty fucking slut," he murmured and dig his fingers back into you. You gripped his wrist harshly but encouraged him to add more fingers. He complied and proceeded to finger you in the back of the bus. "Never thought I would finger the girl of my dreams in the back of the bus," he chuckled as he heard you calling out his name. "You gotta be quiet if you don't wanna get caught." he teased softly. He pounded his fingers into you faster. His eyes laying upon your furrowed eyebrows and bitten lip. You began to nudge into his fingers, meeting him halfway with the movement of your hips. Your grip on his wrist tightened as he touched your clit with the tip of his finger. He snorted and proceeded to move against you, ignoring his hardness that was forming in his pants. You threw your head back and stared up at the ceiling. You bit your lip hard, almost drawing blood.

Jungkook clutched your knee, forcing you to open wider. You raked over the passengers in the seat, who are still unaware of you getting fingered at the back of the bus. You moaned into his hoodie. You let go of his wrist to hold his bicep. He looked down at you. He reached over to cup your face, bringing your lips to meet his. You’re taken back a little but nonetheless you open your mouth to tempt him to slid his mouth in. He fulfilled your craving. The two of you looked like random teenagers making out in the back but what they couldn't see was his fingers stuck up your wet core.

"Jesus fucking Christ," you said under your breath, pulling away from his redden lips. His fingers pounded brutally into you. He showed no sign of slowing down.

"You make a fucking noise and I swear to god I will take you on this bus full of people. I don't give a fuck, Y/N," your pussy quenched around him at that. Your wetness glimmered on his fingers.

"Oh my god, Jungkook, oh my god," you moaned against his neck. Hiding your face from him, you picked up the pace of your hips. "Uh—fuck, holy shit do that again," you referred to him touching your clit. He does that again. "Oh fuck," you whimpered when you felt an uneasy feeling building up within you. "I'm gonna fucking cum."

"Yeah? That fucking early? I knew your little pussy wouldn't be able to take it," Jungkook's lips formed a smirk. "And this is just with my fingers babe. Bet you can't handle my dick," you ignored him. You sobbed into his neck and leaned up to kiss him in efforts to silence your moans, cumming hard all over his fingers. It takes two minutes before you released Jungkook from the kiss. He drew his hand away from your skirt and made sure you were holding eye contact with him when he cleaned his fingers with his tongue.

You gulped. Reality finally hit you. You had let Jungkook finger you in the back of the bus. 

You pushed back against your seat and looked around to see if anyone was looking. Everyone on the bus was still unaware and you felt like you can breathe again. "Holy shit I can not believe we just did that," you brushed your hair back, somewhat disappointed at yourself for not stopping him.

Jungkook's smile surfaced. "I can't believe you just let me do that. Wanna return the favor?" he asks jokingly but watched your face to see if you were willing to suck him off. His hopes are put down when a frown appeared on your face and he could tell you wouldn't feel comfortable with that. "Joking babe."

"Don't call me that, please," you stressed. "This was a mistake, seriously don't ever speak of this with any of your friends. We're not going to speak of it either."

"I wasn't even going to," he muttered and looked away. "Funny how it's a mistake, Y/N, when you were over here telling me to keep going."

You fanned yourself, flapping your hand back and forth in front of your face. Jungkook looked at the layer of sweat near your hairline that glistened under the sunlight. "Stop, it was in the heat of the moment. It seriously was a mistake," he opened his mouth but you carried on. "Especially in the back of the bus, oh god, I'm really disappointed in myself," you zipped up your flare pants, not minding that your underwear is sticking to you.

"And I'm really disappointed in you too, for not giving me a chance," Jungkook said with knitted eyebrows. You sit away from him, making sure there was a good amount of space between the two of you. "Oh are you just going to ignore me now?" he isn't given a response, your tongue knotted together in your mouth. "So that's how it's gonna be now?"

You gathered your bag. The bus curving towards the upcoming bus stop. "This is my stop," you disclosed. He captured your forearm which quickly caught your attention.

"Don't be like this, Y/N." You shrug him off and walked out of the bus, leaving Jungkook and his gloomy thoughts behind.

"Shut up, stop playing with me!" Hayoon exclaimed, her eyes glimmered with interest as you filled her in on the day before. "You did not let Jungkook finger you on the back of the bus," she laughed out loud at her sentence, still not believing the words coming out of your mouth. You groaned and sunk your head back down on the table. "I mean gross, but hey, you're catching dick."

"I'm not catching dick, and stop saying it's gross it makes me even more disappointed in myself."

"I just don't understand how you can tell him you don't want him and tell him the reasons why and then let him finger you at the back of the bus?!" your face scrunched up at her words. "I seriously don't get it Y/N. It's like you're provoking the guy that's going after you and that's pretty fucked up. Play with his dick, not his emotions, oh wait—”

"I told him no multiple times."

"Then why the fuck would you let him finger you in the back of a bus?" Hayoon rubbed her temple before munching on a fry. "I think you do have a crush on him, you just don't want to date him because of all the girls he’s been with.”

You let her words settle in your mind for a moment, not even realizing that she held your hand in hers. "But baby, that's called the past. It's the least thing you got to worry about since you already know it. Take a risk, go out with him. He's ready to be in a serious relationship with you, he's been telling me this since Friday."

You sighed, lips forming a pout. "I don't know."

"Well make up your mind quick cause' he's coming this way," her words are rushed as she glanced over at Jungkook, who's heading over your way.

"What?!" you're just about to turn your head his direction when Hayoon grabbed your jaw.

"What are you doing you stupid bitch?! Don't look—okay, pretend like I'm not here, pretend like I'm not here!" she turned away from you and placed her earbuds in her ears.

"Wait does my hair look good?!" you caught her by the arm before she can leave.

"For who?"

You snapped her head towards Jungkook, who's already smiling at you. His black cap floated over his eyes as he dug his fingers into the pockets of his jogger pants. You coughed when you perceived that you were checking him out. "Um, no one. Just wanted to see if it's messy," you don't know why but your cheeks burned so hard, maybe at the fact that you know it is messy.

His hand came in contact with your head before he moved a strand of your hair that looked out of place before pushing your baby hairs down. You swatted his hands away, ignoring how your warm ears were tingling. "There, it's not that messy anymore. I brought something."

He sat down besides you. You eyes fluttered over to Hayoon. She spread a smirk out on her lips. While Jungkook continued finding the item he wanted to show you, something along the words that it was a jar. Her fist comes up besides her mouth, opening it slightly. Your cheeks become crimson when she began to push her left fist towards her mouth while her tongue kept knocking into her right cheek.

"Here," Jungkook placed a jar in front of you, the bright glittery letters mocking you. Swear Jar, it read at the front. "Every time you cuss, it's more money to my bank account."

Your lips loop downwards into a frown. Your eyebrows furrowed together in the progress. "Not fair, I told you I didn't want to be a sugar mama."

"Fine, this is both of our swear jar."

"Deal."

"Okay, now that that's out of the way, we can talk about yesterday," he put the glittery jar, he decorated last night for you, back in his backpack. A sudden weight pressed down on your shoulders at the thought of him bringing up what happened yesterday.

"Jesus Christ, what do you carry in there?" Hayoon added unintentionally and you're thankful for that. As much as she wanted to know about the encounter between the two of you, she also wanted to know what Jungkook carried in that big bag of his.

"Dildos."

"Wait, deadass?" she jumped up in her seat. I snorted at her, earning a glare. Jungkook's lips formed a line, specifying that he was joking. "Well fuck, it just looks like it's gonna break your back. Dude you know what that reminds me of?" she asked you. Your mind doesn't come across anything so you shook your head. "The Rosie girl? She was giving dildos out at this campus cause' she wanted to, quote, fight absurdity with absurdity. All over Twitter. Wish I could be there to get one."

Jungkook's eyes crinkled up as he laughed at her. The sound ringing through your ears, only to devaste you even more. "Can we talk about yesterday?" he leaned over and whispered to you.

You swore you felt his lips brushing against your ear. It stirred up your brain. "What about yesterday?" your hands started shaking and you hoped he didn't see how anxious you have become.

Luck wasn't on your side today however, his upcoming question boosting your anxiety even more. "Why are your hands shaking so much?" he grasped his bigger hand in yours.

You are quick to take it out of his. "We agreed that we wouldn't talk about what happened yesterday. It was a mistake I didn't—"

"No, you agreed that we wouldn't talk about it," his voice raised slightly to get your attention. Your mouth snapped shut. "We need to talk about it. How the fuck can you be playing with my feelings like this?" Hayoon whistled, mentally seeing eye to eye with Jungkook. "I want to have a chance with you, a shot at us. You give me all these mixed signals and then when I try to make a move on you, all of the sudden you act like a bitch Y/N."

"Well what do you want me to say? That I fucking like you back too?" you challenged and stood up from your chair. The students around you turned their heads over to you, watching the scene in front of them unfold. "How the fuck am I even playing with your feelings? I said I wanted to just be friends! I'm sorry that you're misinterpreted our friendship but that's not my problem!" you wished you could've shut your mouth but all you could see was red. Perhaps you were letting go of all the rage you’ve ever resented over him for the past months.

For ditching you to attend parties or being with other girls. For not always being there for you.

"What the fuck do you mean that's not my problem?!" he mimicked you, staring up at you. "You let me finger you and you expect me to believe that you just wanna be friends? Are you even listening to yourself?! You felt something back there."

Hayoon stepped in, walking over to the two of you. "Okay, I think you guys should just shut up," your eyes wandered around the room, where everyone was watching your interaction.

"Whatever," Jungkook's chair scraped the floor harshly as he pushed it back. He dug into his backpack before placing the jar in front of you. "You can keep that and this," he put down a package full of glittery hair pins, all different colors. Your heart wrenched as you watched him walk away, sullen. His steps are quick so he can take the attention off of him.

You turned the jar and saw that the top had words on it. Splattered in messy pink glitter, Sugar Mama's Swear Jar :D.

Jungkook was avoiding you. You could tell because he stopped coming after school to study with you, which was okay at first until you found yourself yearning for him.

It was stupid, really. After all that debate on how you two should just stay friends, you can't just tell him how much you miss him. That'll make you seem like an ass.

And trust me that's the last thing you want.

Your day was going bad, your professor yelled at you for not paying attention and put you in the spot, embarrassing you in front of the class. You were okay until a girl gave you a look of pity and you had a breakdown in the bathroom right after.

When you went to go meet up with Hayoon, it'll only got worse. She cancelled on you after forcing you to wait for her for thirty minutes. Just as you're leaving a group of middle schoolers thought it would be funny to step on a ketchup packet and let splatter everywhere, resulting in the back of your white top covered in dots of ketchup.

You swore you almost hit the kid who came up with it, even thought about running him over when you saw that the stains were everywhere and even in your hair.

After showering and getting the ketchup out of your hair, you went to work that ensued in you coming home with mascara practically running down your eyes, that were ready to pour out tears if something else happened to you, due to you wrongly mixing up orders and getting yelled out by a customer.

Now here you were, sitting on the living room floor with wet hair after taking another shower which mainly just involved you sitting on the tile floor and crying. You ate the Chinese takeout you have gotten during the way, ignoring the way people were staring at you, with sympathy.

It was the last thing you needed. Maybe karma was coming to get you for saying those things to Jungkook. But at this point all you wanted was some reassurance, a shoulder to cry on, someone to be there for you.

Jungkook.

You couldn't sleep. No matter how hard you tried you just couldn't. Hell, you even closed your eyes for a solid thirty minutes yet you were not able to drift off into slumber. Maybe it had to due with the weather? It was freezing, if you stepped a foot outside you would become an ice sculpture in an instant.

Or maybe, the most logical one compared to all the others, was Jungkook fingering you on the bus. You can't seem to get that scene off your mind. Your brain kept drifting over on how stunning he appeared, his dark eyes staring straight at yours as he watched your mouth form an O shape. He only ever broke eye contact when he snuck a look of how his fingers vanished into your pants.

Then your mind would stumble onto the memory of you yelling at him, telling him how his feelings for you were not your fault. You despised yourself at that moment. You sighed and laid back into your pillow, staring up into the ceiling. "I can't believe I am even having these types of thoughts," you slowly opened your legs while shutting your eyes. As long as you don't think about him, it'll be okay.

But you do. Sliding off your underwear, the first thing you thought about was Jungkook. His bunny smile rested on his face. You opened your eyes to get him off your mind and closed them again. You let out a gentle moan when you feel how wet you are.

He came back again. This time he settled right besides you on the bed. His hand is shoved between your legs. You moaned when he buried his head in your neck and kissed your skin there. "You like that, princess?"

You frowned immediately, he didn't call you any pet names. From what you can remember, he called you a degrading name.

"You like that dirty slut?" you mewled at him. He moved his fingers ceaselessly inside of you whilst breathing down your neck.

The sound of a zipper being undone makes your eyes crack open. You took a glimpse of Jungkook, his hand disappearing inside his jeans that displayed his muscular thighs.

You whined at him and he hovered on top of you. Your breathing got heavier as his cock sprung out of his jeans. "Oh god," you moaned as he slid himself inside of you so effortlessly. Your hands moved quicker inside of you. Feeling your wetness spill out of you and onto the mattress underneath you, you imagined him pounding into you. Your hands clamped on his long hair with your legs in the air as his hips furiously snapping into you.

It doesn't take you long to cum, given the fact at Jungkook's pace it seemed like he wasn't going to stop. He disappeared, leaving you sweaty and tired on the bed with your fingers stuck inside you. "Holy shit, I can not believe I just did that.

Recalling your words that were thrown at Jungkook, a heavy weight on your shoulder returned heavier as ever, reminding you how you practically lost your shot with him.

Shame on you for not giving Jeon Jungkook a chance.

"I think I was too harsh on him."

"You think? Don't lie to me bitch, you know you were fucking harsh on him," Hayoon stood in the middle of your room, scanning your closet for a dress she can wear to a party.

It was almost three days since your argument with Jungkook in front of everyone. You expected to make up with him on Thursday but Jungkook avoided you like you were the plague. He didn't text you for any notes he needed to borrow, nor did he usually come to study with you or leave you a sandwich. You never realized how apart of your life he became, especially when he didn't sit next to you for one of your shared classes. Instead, he chose to sit next to Taehyung, his best friend. It was Friday now and to be quite honest, you missed him.

"Don't trip about it. He could be at the party tonight, getting over you and possibly getting himself a girlfriend so you don't have to worry about him pinning over you. Now what the fuck should I wear?"

You didn't like the sound of that. Jungkook possibly finding another girl. Your consciousness settled back in your mind. How can you even say shit like that? You rejected him, you have no right to tell him not to move on. You sighed to yourself and laid back into the bed. "Maybe I shouldn't go. I don't wanna see him."

"I don't wanna see him." she dragged the straps of your orange dress up her figure. "Shut up because on Wednesday you kept asking why he wouldn't talk to you, like bitch I wouldn't talk to you either with that shit you pulled back there."

"Why not?"

"You're not serious right?" she turned back to you. She raised her eyebrow, challenging you. You groaned and followed her out of the room when she didn't receive an answer. "That's what I thought," you heard her under her breath.

"Not gonna lie, I think I'm gonna break my ankle with these bitches," you pointed down at your high heels, slowing down. You stopped to fix them. Hayoon carried on walking to her car, leaving you behind.

"You wanted to wear them. Now get in," she honked her horn. You hissed at her, reminding her that the neighbors are going to complain. "Don't give a fuck, get in loser we're going to party!" she honked her horn longer.

You ran to her car when you realized she wasn't going to stop. "You need the swear jar, you stupid bitch."

"Not even," before you could say something back, her music blasts through the car. She screamed out the lyrics, encouraging you to join along. "In your eyes! You lie but I don't let it define you—oh define you!"

"You sound like a dying cat."

"I tried to find—fuck you then."

Along the way you started to wonder how she even got her driver's license. Hayoon almost went on the sidewalk when she was tried to park which forced you to get out of the car and direct her.

"Keep going, keep going."

"Fuck, bitch you sure? I don't want another ticket for being on the red line," her head stuck out to make sure she wasn't going to hit the car behind her.

"Yes I'm sure—okay stop!" Hayoon shuts off the engine, stumbling out of the car. She laughed to herself before walking up to the fraternity house with you. "Okay, I forgot what it was like coming here."

The first smell that filled your nostrils was vomit. You glanced down towards the ground and saw a distraught girl on the front lawn throwing up while her friend rubbed her back. Hayoon advised you not to look, to give the poor girl some pity. Reluctantly, you entered the house with a clumsy walk. Hayoon noticed and suggested that you go have a drink. You at first declined but once your eyes scanned the room and landed on Jungkook leaning against a wall with a redhead clinging onto him. You made your way to the open kitchen. Unknown to you, jealousy boiled in your stomach.

So that's how you end up on your first shot of a tequila with a cup of vodka already resting in your liver. You weren't drunk, still you were not far from being tipsy. Conscious enough to see that Jungkook's eyes were on you while you downed the shot. Eyes focused on your throat as you swallowed. He exhaled, watching you pull out your phone and tap away. The red head girl right besides him, tried calling his name out to hook his attention. He brushed her off, muttering something to her that he didn't sleep around anymore.

His frustration grew even more when he saw you wandering over to the middle of the room where sweaty bodies were grinding on each other. Your flimsy black silky dress was not doing him justice either, seeing how tight it was on your figure. It showed off your curves well; he hated how good you looked. There was a big opening in the back that stopped near your hips. Should be a crime to look that good, he thought to himself while trying to keep his eyes on you.

Your hips swayed to the music blasting throughout the house. You opened your eyes, landing on Jungkook immediately. His eyes devouring you as he took a sip of his beer, eyes locked on your hips. You tried not to look at him again but still wondered what was going in that mind of his. You raised your hands up in the air, dress threatening to rise up.

Your curiosity got the best of you. Squinting one eye open to take a peek of Jungkook but you failed to locate him.

A gasp left your mouth as someone pressed their front on your back, rubbing their crotch on your ass. A whiff of the sweet scented Victoria Secret perfume gave the identity away. You tilted your head so that it laid on his chest. Confirming your thought, Jungkook stared down at you with dark eyes. His arm muffled around your waist to press you further into his chest. He felt his body go ease when he saw your lips bunch up into a smile. Your hips rocked from side to side on him. Jungkook held his hand on your waist, encouraging you to continue. You willingly do so arms flinging on his neck as you dragged yourself down his chest. His growing bulge poked your ass as you grind yourself on him. Your head laid back on him. Jungkook leaned down to meet your lips. His mouth entwined with yours, lip gloss rubbing off onto his mouth. You moaned into his mouth and sensed that his hand was harshly holding one of your ass cheeks.

"You wanna go upstairs?" He was somewhat taken back at your suggestion but agreed nonetheless. With his fingers keeping a firm grip on yours, the two of you went upstairs.

He guided you towards the room, which all winded up preoccupied due to freshman trying to lose their virginities. You cringed when you come face to face with someone's bare ass pushing against the lanky girl. Jungkook pushed you into the bathroom, telling a man to fuck off when he tried getting in.

"Hey," you glanced up from the floor onto Jungkook's eyes. He offered you a small awkward smile, warming your heart as if he wasn't rubbing his dick on your ass a few minutes ago.

"Hi," your voice sounded very small and Jungkook wanted to reach out and reassure you that he only came up to you to apologize, not to have you grind on him in the middle of the room. "I'm sorry," you began, eyes fixed to the ground. "Everything I said on that day was really fucked up. I care about your feelings. I care about you and I was giving you mixed signals and it's not okay."

"I'll be fine," his hand held your arm, rubbing it slightly. "It's okay if you don't return my feelings, I'll get over it—"

"But that's the thing I don't want you to get over it."

Jungkook blinked once, twice, and then another third time. Trying to comprehend your words while also trying to figure out what he was going to say was hard.

Your glossy lips moved. "I'm really willing to give you a chance and I'm so sorry for being such a cunt about it. I just—I needed some realization to understand my feelings. Truth is I've had a crush on you, but every time I saw you with these girls I always told myself I'm not good enough for you and that I'll never be. I’m also mad at the fact that you’re barely realizing your feelings towards me just now.”

He doesn't say anything which doesn't help your anxious state at the moment. Your gut scolded you, reminding you that you probably lost your chance and now you look like an idiot to him right now, confessing your feelings.

Jungkook sighed before embracing you. You stand still in shock from his sudden movements but chose to hug him back. His chin dropped down onto your head. "You're good enough for me, Y/N. You always have been and I'm sorry that it took me all these years for me to realize that."

"I couldn't stop thinking of you and all the shit I said. I'm really sorry from the bottom of my heart," you admitted.

His bulge pushed against you and your cheeks flushed warm. Jungkook didn't say anything but bent down to kiss you. His lips moved roughly against yours. Your fingers coming up towards his hair to run through them. His hands digging harshly into your ass, possibly leaving small bruises behind but you're unbothered by it.

You pulled away, enough to stare up at his eyes. "I seriously couldn't stop thinking about you. I fucking masturbated to you, just by thinking of the bus shit," you confessed, watching his face lit up in surprise.

"Yeah? What was going on in that head of yours?" he encouraged you. You giggled at him, his thigh coming between your thighs.

"Your fingers in my pussy," your cheeks burned pink as he coaxed you to go on. "Your big dick pounding in me."

The look on his face is priceless but it just stayed there for a mere second as Jungkook recollected himself. He couldn't believe what was coming out of your mouth, never in a million years would he ever imagine you of all people saying this. The warmth travelled towards his crotch as he hardened at your words. His friend of seven years, his crush for almost two years was here in front of him, revealing that she touched herself to the thought of him. A blissful comfort spread all over his body.

"Don't you want that to happen?" he didn't even realize how close you were, he was too caught up in his thoughts. "You don't want to fuck my brains out?"

Your thighs closed around his thick ones. You reached up to kiss his neck, pecking his soft skin. Jungkook grunted as you left open mouth kisses behind, gripping his hand and directing it near your hips.

"I can't do it here," Jungkook whispered to you once he grasped the circumstances. In a fraternity bathroom with people out there that can possibly hear you two? Jungkook would never allow himself to touch you here the first time you two have sex. You whined against him, rubbing your crotch on his thigh. "Shit, seriously Y/N? You're making this hard for me."

"What your dick? Why? I don't care where we do it. I just—I need it to happen—come on Jungkook fuck me," if your mind wasn't clouded by lust you would been very disappointed at yourself for what you were saying, but you could care less. He closed his eyes and tilted his head towards the ceiling. He was fighting with himself.

The only sound in the bathroom was the loud heavy bass music playing and the two of you heavily breathing. "Do you want me to go find another guy out there that can do the job for you or what?" you tried riling him up and it worked cause Jungkook was staring at you with dark hooded eyes. "Cause' I could walk out there and take any guy home with me do you want that?" you both know deep down you wouldn’t be able to do that. You’re too shy.

Jungkook came across as if something possessed him suddenly. His hair falling over his eyes slightly. His tongue came out of his mouth to moisten his lips. "Get on your fucking knees," Jungkook snapped, a hand going back to get tangled in your hair. You dropped down to the ground. "I wanna see your pretty tits," you pulled down the straps of your dress and got rid of your strapless bra, throwing it aside. "Well aren't you a desperate cock sucking whore?" you whined at him with your dress bunched up around your waist. "What don't tell me you like being called that?" he chuckled. Your cheeks flushed in humiliation.

You reached over to unzip his jeans. He merely let out a chuckle, extremely satisfied with your avidity. As you rolled down his boxers, his hand wrapped around your hair. "Look up at me, whore," your eyes jerked up to him. "Open your mouth," you gulped at the size, wondering if it was even going to fit in your poor mouth. He teased, rubbing the head of his cock on your lips when you did. Your jaw ached as you tried opening as wide as you can to please him. You looked up at him as he slid his cock in your mouth. He groaned, loving the warmth and wetness of your mouth surrounding him. He maintained the eye contact between you two whilst he carried on shoving his dick in your throat. You moaned and moved back once it hit your throat. But before you can, he gripped the back of your hair firmly and thrusted his hips forward. You gagged around him, tears brewing and ready to burst out. You extended your hands out to his thighs. He held your head in place, his cock shoving down your throat at an animalistic speed. "What a good little slut," he eventually praised you. "Letting me fuck her throat hard and shit," you shut your eyes.

You regret doing so. Feeling a tug to your hair, your eyes snap open and look up. "You get praised like a good bitch once and you think you can be a bad girl? I don't think so, whore," he stared straight into your eyes with his dark orbs devouring you. Your drool slithering down your chin. You peer up at him with desperation written all over your face. Your fingers glided down to your dress. You kept your gaze on him when your fingers entered your pussy, feeling how wet you are. "Are you seriously touching yourself?" he sounded thrilled at the idea. Jungkook stopped moving for a second, allowing you to suck on the head of his cock. He watched mascara run down your cheeks, feeling some sort of ego boost that he was making you look this way.

You nodded frantically, moving your fingers faster. You sucked him harder, your jaw throbbing as you attempted to deep throat him. He forced your head deeper so that your nose was touching his pubic hair. "I didn't give you permission, disobedient slut. You got three seconds to finish," he finished with a sullen laugh, knowing you weren't. "One, two–" Jungkook watched your eyes become watery as you hopelessly tried to get yourself to cum in just three seconds. "—three, take your fingers out whore."

You obeyed and showed him your fingers, glittering under the bathroom light, even though on the inside you were begging to be touched again. You thought of going against him. Jungkook let a cackle escape from his mouth. "Fuck, you're so fucking wet I bet you're fucking leaking out onto the floor."

You mewled, bobbing your head up and down. Releasing his cock out of your mouth with a lewd pop, you batted your eyelashes up at him. "I'm so fucking wet for you," he flashed you a quick grin, obviously content with your answer. He brought your fingers up to his mouth, sucking them off while maintaining eye contact with you. His tongue swirled around your finger as you repeat the same motion on his cock. He released your finger.

"You can use your hands," you pull away right after he said that. You pumped him rapidly, your hand moving back and forth. Your ears took in his grunts, feeling some pride for causing him to make those noises. He almost came when he felt your warm, wet mouth around one of his balls.

"I want you to cum on my tits." he agreed, staring down at you. Tension builds within his stomach as he groaned out loud. You gaped at him when his cum shoots towards your neck, aiming towards your breasts.

Jungkook's breathing became heavier as he came back down from his blissful state that he was in. He grew hard in a instant when he saw how fucked you looked. Your mascara running down your eyes, leaving a trail of black ink behind. Your hair was tangled together into a mess due to him gripping it so tightly. With saliva dripping down your red swollen smeared lips, his eyes drifted further down. The straps of the dress you were wearing were rolled out into your stomach, exhibiting your perky breasts that are smeared with his cum.

"You look like a fucked whore," he smiled at you with satisfaction resting in his mind.

You giggled at him, tucking your hair behind your ear. "Yeah, not just for you," you gazed up at him, a small smile on your lips.

He helped you get off the floor. His facial expression is now serious, indicating that he wasn't happy with your answer. Jungkook's fingers tapped the cold surface of the sink, indicating to sit down on it. You do so, opening your legs slowly.

He watched, eyes strictly locked in between your legs. "Who are you so wet for?" he asked.

You snorted and shrugged which only grew him more frustrated.

Jungkook growled and flipped you over. He bended you over the bathroom sink and bore his eyes into you by the mirror. "You wanna keep acting like a slut, you're might as well be fucked like one," you silently squealed in excitement. Jungkook lifted your dress up in one go. He pulled your underwear down, making you step out of them. "Put your leg on the counter," he commanded and you do as you're told. Lifting your right leg on the counter while the other one remained on the ground. You heard him frantically pull down his jeans. You gasped when you feel the tip on your entrance. He reached over for the condom on the counter.

"No!" you exclaimed. Jungkook stopped and looked down at your worriedly, wondering if you wanted to stop now. You gulped, feeling your cheeks burned in embarrassment. "Don't use one please." you whined. "I want to feel you raw."

You heard Jungkook chuckle from behind you. He felt like he was on cloud nine, he was fucking thriving. "Yeah? My fucking slut wants me to do her raw?" he started pushing himself. You held your breath as your walls allowed him to enter, tightening around his big shaft. His cock rimmed inside of you

"Y-yeah," you manage to choke out, staring at him through the mirror. He maintained eye contact to where your bodies connected, watching his cock sink into you as he held your hips in place. 

"Has any other guy fucked you raw, slut?" Jungkook brought his hand around your throat. You sensed that you could orgasm right there. You shook your head as he finally is inside of you fully. "What was that? Use your words, come on you're a big girl," he gripped your inner right thigh with so much strength, he could break it off if he tried. I mean those biceps.

"N-no only you. Just for you," he grinned at that.

"Good," you let out a loud moan when he started finally moving. His hips rutted into yours at an animalistic speed. He stared at you through the mirror, watching how your mouth opens and your breasts jiggle. He pressed your throat a little harder. "Bet no guy ever made you feel this way."

"Only you, Jungkook! Only you!" you manage to breath out. Your knuckles are almost white by how hard you're holding onto the counter. He lowers himself so his face is near your ear.

"Yeah? Look at you, telling me how I'll never have you yet you're over here drooling over my dick. Fucking whore." you whined harder as he breathed down your neck. You feel yourself began getting more wetter at his words. "Imagine what your family and friends will say when they find out you're letting me fuck you in the ass in a dirty bathroom at a frat party."

You shut your eyes, your pussy swallowing him back in. His hand squeezed your throat a little tighter. "Fucking slut," he snapped his hips at you. You moaned out loud, shamelessly. "On the dance floor dancing like one."

"Because I am one," he chuckled at that, fingers coming up to pinch your nipple.

"Yeah? Who do you belong to? Whose slut are you?" the grip on your throat tightened, not enough to block your airway however. Jungkook kept his eye on you through the mirror, your lips molding into an oval shape. His palm came down to meet one of your asscheeks. You jumped forward, Jungkook pulling you back onto his cock. He stopped moving to lock eyes with you through the mirror, his lips hovering over your ear. "When I ask you a question, I expect a fucking answer," you tried to move your hips a bit but he caught you before you can. "Now," his voice deepened. "Whose slut are you?"

"Your slut! I'm your slut! Jungkook, please—"

"Yeah? Scream when I fuck you so that everyone knows who your pussy belongs to," his hips rammed into you again. You swore you can feel him fucking into your cervix. You let a loud moan break free from your mouth, his hot breath fanned your ear.

A roaring pounding on the door snapped his head away. You whimpered and become aware that his pace was reducing as his attention was now on the other man trying to get in. Jungkook yelled out words that sounded fuzzy to your ears considering all you could hear is your heartbeat.

"No, no, Jungkook don't stop," you pleaded with him, twisting yourself to look at his lust filled eyes. "I'm almost there please!"

You almost screamed at him when he pulled out. He sat on the toilet lid, tapping his thighs that were spread out in front of him. "Ride me," he demanded. You're somehow quick on your wobbly legs, getting on top of him. You grasped his swollen red cock, lining it up with your entrance before sinking down.

Jungkook's hand went towards your hip to support you while the other one went further down to touch your swollen clit. His mouth came near your ear as you cried out his name. "If you don't come in the next minute, you're not cumming tonight, got it slut?" you panted but nonetheless nodded frantically.

And with that Jungkook sat back, watching you fuck yourself on his cock, you were basically using him as a toy and Jungkook loved that. The desperation look on your face was amusing and Jungkook stored in in his memories.

"Oh shit! Fuck I'm almost there," his palm travelled further down to rub your ass.

"Time's almost up," he wasn't actually keeping track but your determination to cum on such a short amount of time was adorable to him. Your thighs smacked his, bouncing on his cock faster. Jungkook's finger carried on rubbing against your clit, his eyes trailing down from your face to your bouncing breasts.

Your eyes rolled back as you heaved up. Your mouth opened wide, feeling your orgasm wash over you. Jungkook heard his name leave your mouth, panting. He almost came when he felt something warm soak into his jeans. Looking down, he became aware of what just happened.

"Fucking dirty slut," he hissed and allowed you to relax your head on his shoulder as your whole weight sunk down on him. His ears took in your sniffles. "Look what you did, squirted all over me slut."

Your cheeks burned in humiliation, nuzzling your nose into his shoulder.

You gasped when he lifted his hips up to meet yours. You cried out to him to stop but Jungkook's quick to silence you with his fingers stuffed in your mouth. Your tears threatened to spill. "You're so tight, fuck! Need to fuck you more, whore,"

It doesn't take long for him to sprout into you, judging the way you tightened around him and how fucked your face look when he looked down to meet your eyes. With his cum coating your walls, he slid out of you. A bit of cum came out and dropped down to his black pants leaving a white stain behind.

You attempted to stand out on your own but failed due to you not being able to feel your legs for a second. Luckily, Jungkook is there to help you. He bent down to help you put on your underwear.

"Are you on birth control?" he asked while zipping up his pants. You checked your face in the mirror, noticing the hickeys all over your neck and the mascara smothered down your cheeks.

You turned to look at him, pulling your dress down."Are you really asking me after we just had sex? Where's my bra by the way?" your face is met with your bra when he flung it at you.

He laughed, watching you put it on. "Yeah, seriously though are you?"

"Why? If I'm going to be your sugar mama I might as well be your baby mama." Jungkook looked stricken and you snickered, bringing your hand up to hide your mouth. "I'm joking," you wiped your face with some wet wipes you found in the drawers.

"Not funny, was ready to fucking make a run for it."

It was your turn to look stricken as Jungkook laughed. You frowned and slapped his chest.

It goes quiet, the loud bass music now coming back to fill your ears instead of Jungkook's moans. He stood awkwardly near the corner while you threw away the wipes you used to remove your makeup. Running your fingers through your hair, you turned towards him.

"So, does this mean that you're going to give me a chance?" the man in front of you standing like an anime character asked, as if he wasn't calling you degrading names a few minutes ago.

You smiled at him and lunged forward to kiss him. "Yes, I'll give you a chance Jungkook."

↳ in your heart; drabble collection

[aperrywilliams]

Pour Some Sugar On… Me? (Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader)

(Not my gif!)

Masterlist

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Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!BAU!Reader.

Summary: What if Reader and Spencer want to try something new in bed?

Word Count: 6522.

Warnings: Smut (NSWF); 18+ (please respect that!). Sexual talk. Fingering. Oral (male/female). Spanking. Penetrative and unprotected sex. Food play.

A/N: This fic was written to my dear friend @spencers-dria in the 3rd Fic-Swap from @imagining-in-the-margins Discord Server. For reference, the song alluded here is this one.

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Days off are a blessing and a curiosity in your job. It's not that you hate it; on the contrary, you couldn't be happier doing what you do, but there are times when you need to take a break. Working at the BAU is something you always dreamed of, and once you got it, you were still willing to give your 100%. But the last few months have been intense and stressful. So having a day off was welcome. Most welcome if you could spend time with your now-boyfriend Spencer. Wow, how weird that feels to you. After working at the BAU for almost five years with Spencer, it was only four months ago that you dared to confess your feelings for him. To your delight, he also admitted that he had feelings for you. Of course, the whole team already knew that, except for you two. But hey, as they say, better late than never, right?

The first date was almost dreamy. Like a real gentleman, he picked you up at your apartment. He took you to dinner in a nice and quiet place where you both could talk. You guys had a lovely time chatting and laughing at how blind both of you were for so many years being friends and not admitting that you liked each other. At the end of the date, at the door of your apartment, you saw how nervous he was, and you took your chance: you kissed him first. After that, things flowed the way you always wanted them to. Spencer was the most caring, loving, and amazing boyfriend you've ever had. All of your previous relationships didn't even compare to this. You were sure you loved Spencer, but neither of you dared to say the three words until the first time you both had sex. It took you longer than people say. You guys didn't do it after the fourth date or the fifth. It was after a case. At that time, you had already been dating for almost two months.

It had been a difficult case. It took more than eight days to find the unsub. The entire team made superhuman efforts to identify and catch the killer. But you were one of the most affected because the case was in your hometown. You knew some of the victims or their families. That had you on the brink of collapse, but you managed to stay focused, and it was even you who managed to connect the dots and arrest the unsub. All the case tension showed in you when you guys flew back to Virginia, and you burst into tears.

Spencer was the one who sat next to you and hugged you, holding you in his arms throughout the flight. Whispering words of reassurance to you and stroking your hair and back. That night you asked him if he could stay with you. You didn't know if you were okay enough to be alone. He, of course, accepted. Neither of you both was thinking about anything other than being with each other. Still, the kisses on the forehead became kisses on the cheek, then kisses on the lips, neck, collarbone... that's when the three words came out.

"You're the bravest woman I know. You're the best in your job, you care about people. I'll never stop to amaze by that quality of you. I love you, (Y/N)," Spencer whispered, his lips brushing yours. And maybe you kissed him for the first time, but he was who said to you 'I love you' for the first time, and you lost your mind.

You said it back almost instantly, throwing yourself into his arms to kiss him and repeat those three words over and over again. You got up from the couch and took his hand, guiding him to your bedroom. That first time was slow, loving, gentle. It was the living definition of 'making love.' It was unique, and you never felt more loved in your life.

Spencer could agree with you on that. He always told you that accepting the fact he wasn't a man with a lot of experience in sex, he felt that time was the first time he knew what it was like to make love and not just fuck someone. Maybe he didn't use those identical words, but it was basically what he meant.

After that first time, many followed. And saying 'many' may even be an understatement. Not long after, you realized that Spencer was always eager to touch you and to have sex with you every time he could. It wasn't something that bothered you, quite the opposite.

Sex with him was always great. He always cared to satisfy you and make you come before him at least once or twice. Even when the time was limited, Spencer never allowed himself to leave you without an orgasm.

Thinking about that, there was something about that passion on him that led you to wonder what the limits would be for Spencer in bed - if he really had them. Sure, everyone might have thought that sex with Spencer was mostly vanilla and innocent - if the word 'sex' and 'innocent' were allowed to be put in the same sentence. But something inside told you that he could be into other things, that he maybe could be into experimentation in bed. You didn't know if Spencer could be a kinky guy. He never talked about that. But you could feel that maybe he had something like that in him. You promised yourself to find out.

But that afternoon of your day off, you weren't exactly thinking about that. Instead, you were focused on replicating a recipe that Rossi had shared with you last week. The last time you went to his house for dinner, you fell in love with the dish he made on that occasion. Spencer had offered you to call for some take-out instead of cooking, but you were hell-bent on replicating Rossi's recipe.

While you were cooking, Spencer was in the living room reading a book. He had offered you help, but you decided against it. You'd rather make a mess in the kitchen without him seeing you, and besides, he had the right to spend his afternoon off without having to cook.

You liked to cook. You didn't do it frequently for lack of time. And because you weren't a very efficient person at cooking: you always used more utensils than necessary, spilling as much as could be spilled on the floor and on the counters. That meant every time you embarked on something in the kitchen, you had to spend a lot of time cleaning everything afterward. But it was your day off, so it didn't matter. Thus you connected your phone to the speaker you had in the kitchen, put on your favorite playlist, and got to work.

You lost track of time when you realized you were almost ready. Tasting the sauce at its temperature and flavor, you were satisfied with the result. So satisfied that you started dancing and singing as you began the arduous task of cleaning up your mess. Coincidentally, one of your favorite songs started on your playlist. That encouraged you to dance and sing more animatedly.

You have always been quite eclectic for your musical tastes, but you can't deny that your guilty pleasure was the '80 glam. Which you have only allowed yourself to enjoy in the privacy of your home, doing tasks as domestic as cleaning the kitchen, in this case. The best part of the song was playing, and you couldn't help but pick up the broomstick to dance around it.

[You got the peaches, I got the cream. 

Sweet to taste, saccharine.

'Cause I'm hot - hot, say what, sticky sweet

From my head -head, my head, to my feet

Do you take sugar? One lump or two? 

Take a bottle - take a bottle - shake it up - shake it up - 

Break the bubble - break it up - break it up 

Pour some sugar on me. 

Ooh, in the name of love. 

Pour some sugar on me. 

C'mon, fire me up...]

Singing wasn't enough, so you didn't save energy to put a show dancing into the music's rhythm. You were at it when you turned around and saw Spencer watching you from the kitchen entrance. The blush rose to your cheeks immediately, you stopped dancing and singing, but you still didn't let go of the broomstick.

Spencer stood up from the couch because he wanted to check on how you were doing and if you needed any help. He could hear the music and how you sang, but he didn't think he would find you dancing using a broomstick as a pole. Because that's what you were doing, an authentic pole dance in the kitchen.

Moving your hips sensually, up and down, with sweat running down your body. Your wet shirt clinging to your body accentuating your nipples - because, of course, you weren't going to wear a bra on your day off. The scene itself made Spencer freeze staring at you. Worse yet, when you added the music to the stage, it brought Spencer into the hot dimension. He could feel beads of sweat accumulating on his forehead and how his lower half began to reveal a particular need for attention.

"Spencer, oh my God. I didn't see you here," you apologized. But he didn't say anything or moved from where he was. Because undoubtedly he was lost in thoughts. About what? Well, not of you sexy dancing in the kitchen. Not him imagining you dancing naked in front of him. Not him imagining you naked over the kitchen's counter whit spread legs. No, he wasn't thinking about how your body could taste with sugar on it.

"Spencer?" you repeated.

Shit. What's that? Someone is calling his name. Oh yeah. You.

"Uhm?" he barely replied.

"Something is wrong?" you asked hesitantly. You didn't know if Spencer was shocked in a bad way.

"Uh- no. Everything is okay..." Spencer assured you.

"You zoned out, you sure are you okay?" you insisted.

"Yeah. Perfect. More than okay," Spencer said, trying to regain some composure.

"Did you want to ask me something?"

"Oh. I - just if you needed help," Spencer offered, remembering why he was there in the first place.

"No baby, I'm okay. Thank you. I'm sorry for the show by the way," you stated with a grimace and a blush in your cheeks.

"What?"

"I'm not a good dancer as you could see," you joked. He smiled and looked at you from head to toe.

"I wouldn't say that... I wouldn't say that at all," he stated with a minimal perceptible smirk. You took his response as a cue to relax.

"Okay, well. I'm done with dinner and cleaning. I think I need a shower now. Could you set everything in the dining table?" you asked.

"Sure," he replied. You passed by his side, stole a peck from him, and headed to the bathroom.

Spencer stood in the kitchen doorway for a few more seconds before reacting. His mind wandered into the world of possibilities of things he could and want to do to you. His erection agreed with each and every one of them. He was amazed at himself at the things that went through his mind. Not that he has never thought of 'different' things to do in bed, but he had never been motivated enough or found a partner to do them. Maybe you were the one for that. Why not? Spencer promised to test waters with you when he got the chance, but for now, what he was clear about was that he wanted to fuck you hard after dinner.

Not only were you satisfied with the result of the dinner. Spencer congratulated you for replicating Rossi's recipe so well, even giving it your own special touch.

After the dishes, you both sat on the couch to watch TV. But Spencer was distracted enough to pay attention. You were curled up next to him with your arms around his torso. He had an arm around your neck, stroking your arm. Slowly he began to kiss your head while his free hand caressed your cheek. You raised your head to look at him and found his eyes fixed on you. You smiled at him, and he leaned to kiss you. You kissed him back. As the seconds passed, the kiss became more intense and passionate. Without thinking twice, you changed position to straddle him. Thus you guys started a making-out session. You could feel Spencer's eagerness matching with your own. That intensity transformed into moans and dancing hands on both of you.

"God (Y/N), you feel so good," he whispered in your ear.

"Uhm. You too, Spencer. So so good... so so sweet," you added.

Spencer couldn't help but bring to mind the moment he saw you dancing in the kitchen.

"Like sugar..." he mumbled in your neck, grabbing your ass with both hands.

"Sticky sweet..." you said offhand, grinding your hips forward, looking for some kind of friction.

Your intention was not to bring the song you were listening to previously. Still, it was in your unconscious and apparently, in Spencer's too, because when the words left your mouth, he emitted the deepest groan you have heard from him in a long time.

"Oh, you liked that, uh?," you teased. Spencer nodded.

"Yeah... that show of yours in the kitchen did something in me," he confessed.

"Uhmm... and you think you would like to try something like that?" you probed, biting his earlobe.

"Try what?" Spencer replied, massaging your breasts over your shirt.

"Pouring some sweet on me?... and taste me?" you asked, and another groan left Spencer's throat.

"Yes. Yes. Surely yes," Spencer hastened to reply with his lips nibbling your collarbone. You smirked. Spencer Reid was showing the experimental side that you wanted.

You were about to suggest the first experimental activity when both of your phones started ringing at the same time. That only meant one thing: a new case. A growl of frustration came from both of you. Spencer looked at you with longing eyes, and you could only shrug.

"We'll have to put this on standby until we get back," you said after a sigh, pecking his lips.

"Okay, but I need a quick cold shower anyway," Spencer replied. You agreed.

The case took the team to Alabama. You and Spencer sat apart on the jet, both of you still feeling frustrated by the sudden interruption.

You tried to focus on the case and managed to do so. However, Spencer had a harder time doing it. Not that he was repeatedly thinking of you, imagining you naked in your bed, inviting him to taste your sweet body. Of course not. Damn, these days would be torture for him.

One of the first things you guys noticed once you got off the jet was the infuriating heat in the area. It was summer, and the town where you landed seemed to be the driest in the region.

Worse was realizing that the air conditioning was under repair at the police station. The entire team in a room trying to focus on the case, trying not to think about the place's heat.

"How uncomfortable! I feel so sticky and we haven't even been here four hours," you complained at one point. It was just you, Spencer, and Emily in the meeting room, going through files.

"Yeah, this heat barely allow to work," Emily agreed.

"Indeed, I'm sweating as I were in a sauna," you added. When you looked at Spencer to ask his opinion, you saw him flustered, with pink cheeks. You frowned, but you didn't want to say anything to him. His eyes barely met yours.

In Spencer's mind, only one verse was repeated over and over: 'Cause I'm hot - hot, say what, sticky sweet. From my head - head, my head, to my feet'. 'Fuck' he thought when he realized where his brain had gone. That was one of the moments where Spencer Reid hated his eidetic memory. He roamed your body with his eyes in the most subtle way he could. Spencer fixated on the sweat running down your forehead and down in your throat. That clearly wasn't helping the erection that began to show under his slacks.

By the second day, you guys had barely managed to get a few clues to locate the unsub. The good thing was that at least the air conditioning was fixed. You were with Morgan and Spencer in the meeting room. At the same time, Spencer wrote something on the board to illustrate a mathematical formula. Suddenly the marker stopped writing.

"What...?" Spencer wondered in frustration, looking at the marker.

"Baby, shake it up," you suggested. Spencer turned to face you, mouth agape.

"What?" he asked. Again you could see his cheeks all flushed.

"The marker. You need to shake it up," you replied. Morgan furrowed. He didn't know why Spencer was suddenly so nervous. But you started to find it out, and the thought made you smirk.

In Spencer's mind, another verse was repeated again: 'Shake it up. Break the bubble - break it up.' Along with that, he could see you in your apartment's kitchen, lowering your butt to the floor and moving you sensually. His mind went beyond, and he remembered the first time you gave him a handjob. Spencer froze when he saw Morgan and you looking at him. Then he turned, shook the marker, and kept writing. Jeez, what's wrong with me? he thought.

By the third day, you guys had already managed to deliver the profile and were in search for the unsub. After a round of interviews, you were in the station's kitchen making yourself a coffee. Spencer arrived with the same goal, apparently. He smiled at you, moving his mug in your direction since you had the pot in your hand. You put the precious liquid in his cup and left the coffee pot in its place. Spencer was adding his usual unhealthy amount of sugar to his coffee, and you couldn't help but make a comment to teasing him.

"Do you take sugar? One lump or two?" you teased. Spencer's eyes almost popped out of their sockets when he recognized the verse coming out of your mouth. You couldn't help but laugh, confirming your theory. Spencer was about to say something when Hotch came into the kitchen to put coffee in his mug as well.

"Are you two okay?" Hotch asked. You nodded yet chuckling. Spencer just nodded, focusing on his coffee.

You took the cream and put some into your coffee. Before you put it on the counter, you made the last move to finish off Spencer.

"Oh, sorry. I got the cream, do you want some? This one is so sweet to taste," you offered. And Spencer gave you a look that could have knocked you down right away.

If another day had passed, Spencer would surely lose his mind. Fortunately, on the fourth day, you guys managed to arrest the unsub and fly back to Virginia that afternoon.

You arrived at the BAU almost at dinner time. You hadn't had a chance to tease Spencer that day, and you thought it was for the best because as soon as you grabbed your things to go to the elevator, Spencer followed you from behind. You both entered the elevator without anyone else from the team. As soon as the doors closed, Spencer's lips were on yours, kissing you like he imagined doing it for the past four days.

"Tonight we are not going to cook, we are going to order take out, but after catching up, understood?" he clarified. You only nodded, feeling the heat between your legs.

As soon as the door to your apartment closed, Spencer dropped his go-bag and cupped your cheeks to begin kissing you. Almost as passionately as in the elevator. You moaned and dropped your go-bag as well. Your arms around his neck bringing him as close to your body as possible. Spencer began to kiss your neck while his hands danced between your sides and your hips.

You would have accepted that Spencer to fuck you in that moment and place, but you had an idea in mind and wanted to put it to test, no matter how eager both of you were at that minute.

"Baby, wait," you breathed out. Spencer stopped and looked at you with concern.

"What's wrong? Did I do something wrong?" He panted.

"No, no. Quite the opposite, but... I need you to ask you to wait a moment, okay?, could you do that for me?" you asked. Spencer let out a sigh.

"To wait?, yeah. I can do that. But, are you okay?" Spencer asked again.

"Yeah. I promise you this will worth it," you replied, pecking his lips and heading to the kitchen. Spencer looked at you confused, but he didn't say anything. He sat down on the couch, waiting for you.

You took your time, and Spencer started to worry, but you called him from your bedroom before he could ask something.

"Baby, can you come to help me?" you asked. Spencer stood up from the couch and walked towards your bedroom. The door was ajar, and he pushed it open. He wasn't ready for what his eyes found. Oh boy, he wasn't prepared. Or maybe he was. Too much prepared, you could tell: four days prepared.

You were lying in bed, your body barely covered in matching black lace. And even 'barely' could be too much. But to Spencer, that wasn't a problem at all. He enjoyed every time you took your time to surprise him with those details. He scanned all your body at the dim light of the bedroom.

"Wow... (Y/N). I thought - I, you... needed help?" Spencer stuttered. He couldn't move from his spot in the bedroom entrance. You smiled and played along.

"Yes. I do, actually. You can come closer?" you asked flirtatiously.

"Yeah. Yes. Of course," Spencer replied, taking a step forward, feeling his heart pumping hard. That wasn't the only thing he wanted to pump hard, though.

"Would you help me with something here?"

"Any- anything." You grinned at your accomplishment: Spencer in awe and speechless. So you pointed to a white bowl with honey in the nightstand. Spencer tilted his head.

"Would you... pour some sugar on... me?" You kept your voice seductive.

And... he lost it. His brain stopped working. All his bloodstream focused on that part of his body that wouldn't stop shrieking until its complete satisfaction. Like a small computer, his remained neurons only could process a simple string of commands: clothes off/ jump to the bed/ taste you / eat you / fuck you. Simple.

The first command was successfully completed in no time. You never saw Spencer peeling off his clothes so fast before. You couldn't deny how much his eagerness turned you on. You felt your wetness coating your panties. So warm. So hot. You didn't know if you would be capable of ending this foreplay without coming. But, who cares anyway? You surely would enjoy this.

Spencer was kneeling in front of you on the bed. You didn't think twice and started putting on a show. Still making eye contact with him, one of your hands took the bowl from the nightstand. You put two fingers into the bowl and took out a little amount of honey, which began to drain through your fingers. You slowly brought those two fingers to your mouth and started to suck the honey from them. A moan of satisfaction came from your throat at the sweetness. But what really made you lose your mind was seeing how Spencer, with his lips parted, licked them with his own tongue without taking his eyes off you. Another thing that worked perfectly as motivation for you was seeing his hard cock twitching at the sight of you. What a confidence boost.

When you finished cleaning all the honey from your fingers, you repeated the same. Putting two fingers inside the bowl, removing a little of its content, but now you offered the delicious treat to your excited boyfriend.

"Do you want to taste it, doctor?"

Spencer couldn't release any word but nodded and leaned, catching your sweet fingers with his mouth. Both of you leaving scape a deep moan when Spencer started to suck your fingers to remove all the honey from them. You closed your eyes, feeling his hot tongue around your fingers.

When there was nothing left to remove, Spencer's mouth released your fingers in search of your lips. When his lips found yours, he began to kiss you as if the world was going to end. It was a passionate, lustful kiss. You moaned into the kiss. He took the chance, and his tongue started exploring your mouth. The taste of honey on him was intoxicating.

When both parted for some air, you opened your eyes to see Spencer looking at you as you were the most gorgeous and sexy woman on earth. Well, you were for him. You blushed a little, his gaze was intense, and he hardly blinked. Spencer leaned to kiss you again, and when you parted, the only words that came from his mouth were...

"Did - did you know honey is associated with love and sex in both the Bible and the Karma Sutra? At traditional Indian weddings, the groom is often offered honey to boost his stamina," Spencer explained. He reached your cheek with one of his hands and stroking it. His lips latched in your neck. You chuckled mischievously.

"Well, it's good to know that. But I was thinking of using it in another way, you know?" you coyly stated. Spencer parted and saw you, smirking as well.

"Oh yeah?" You nodded as you get some honey from the bowl and spread it slowly onto your stomach. You took some more and smeared it in the column of your throat. You left the bowl on the nightstand and beckoning to Spencer to step closer.

"Do you want to taste it, doctor?"

"Oh God, yes," he hastened to reply. His hands roaming your legs.

"Then taste it, all of it," you invited.

Just a second took Spencer latching his mouth on your stomach. He started sucking and licking the honey from your body. His hands grabbing your hips and yours tugging his hair.

"You taste so good," he said, muffling his words on your skin. "I thought about this all-time we were in Alabama," he confessed.

"Did you? What did you think about? Tell me..." You asked. Spencer now nibbling and licking the column of your throat. A load moan escaped your mouth, feeling Spencer's hot tongue against your skin, moving to your neck. That sweet spot that drives you crazy.

"I thought about kissing your soft skin, about brushing you with my tongue, about... the sounds you do when I touch you, and you're aroused," you let out a moan, and Spencer smirked in your neck.

"Yes, those moans that I love so much. I thought about your breasts. God, your breasts..." he muttered as one of his hands unclasped your bra, taken and tossing it to the side. With your breasts on display, his mouth moved from your neck to the south. Before stopping in your bosoms, Spencer reached the bowl with honey, grabbing some with his fingers, and smeared it in your nipples. The substance was cold, and you hissed a little.

"Easy love, I'll take care of it," he said. His voice low and sexy. God, you sometimes had a hard time trying to understand that the shy guy you pinned for years was so hot in bed. You don't complain, though. You love it.

Spencer put his fingers in your mouth, and you wasted no time sucking them. He let out a groan of satisfaction and clasped his lips in one of your nipples, swirling it with his tongue and flicking the nub up and down, removing all the honey from them. You let out a howl, muffled with Spencer's fingers in your mouth, pressing your tongue.

"Fuck (Y/N), you indeed taste so sweet," he praised, letting out his fingers from your mouth and moving it, tracing a slow path to the hem of your panties. He slid them under the thin fabric, searching your clit massaging it gently.

"Spencer, oh God. That feels so good." He moved from one breast to another one, repeating his motions.

"Yeah, you feel so good. Your are so good for me (Y/N). I could stay here all night. You have no idea how much I thought about that stupid song and doing everything on you," he whispered, releasing your nipple to move his lips to your navel.

"Please, please Spencer..." you whined. If you teased him before, now you just wanted him to fuck you mercilessly.

"What do you need sweetheart?" he asked.

"You. I need you to fuck me," you replied, feeling Spencer's tongue in your navel traveling south.

"Yeah. And I need to fuck you. That's I'm going to do now. You want that dirty girl?"

"Yes!"

"So... you teased me all these days. You knew what you were doing. Don't you think I need to repay you for that?" Spencer said as toying with your panties' waistband.

"What? Are you going to punish me? Doctor?"

For those who said kinks don't fit in all relationships, maybe they were right. But in Spencer's view, this was not the case. In the most pleasant way possible, he discovered that the kinky side of him fitted perfectly, and you seemed pleased too.

"Oh, do you want that, my dirty girl?" And before an answer, Spencer slid your panties down your legs, tossing them to the floor. Now, his goddess laid naked on her bed, ready for him, waiting for him.

Spencer grabbed your thighs and pushed them open, revealing your core for him.

"What a beautiful pussy we have here," Spencer coed. Picking some more honey from the bowl, he smeared it in your inner thighs, tracing a path to the spot where you needed him most. You wanted to scream. Before you do so, Spencer started washing the honey from your thighs. He did it from down to up, brushing your clit with his tongue in every licking.

"Fuck Spencer, I know I teased a lot these days but please..."

Spencer smirked between your legs, but he kept doing what he was doing. When he was sure he removed all the stuff from your thighs, his tongue focused on your clit.

"Yes!... oh God," you cried.

He moved one of his fingers between your folds, coating the wetness, and the pleasure was indescribable. His tongue still focused in your clit, circling and licking. Spencer put a second finger, curling them and reaching that spot inside of you that had you whining in no time. Your moans encouraged him to speed up his motions. Your hands were on his hair, eyes fluttered shut, lost in pleasure. Moans filling the room while his hands kept your hips onto the mattress, stopping you from buck forward.

"Spencer, oh my God. Please, don't stop!" you begged. His fingers never stopped thrusting you in and out, and his tongue having a feast with your clit. You could feel the knot down in your belly about to explode.

"Cum for me, dirty girl," he mumbled yet with his mouth on your clit and his fingers thrusting mercilessly. Then you cried, feeling your orgasm hitting you like a train.

When you descended from your highs, you propped yourself in your forearms to look at Spencer. His mouth coated with your arousal and smirking at you.

"C'mon baby, I need to taste you too," you demanded with a lazy voice, still dizzy from your orgasm.

"As you wish," he replied, sitting on the mattress with his back resting on the headboard, looking at you. Eyes full of lust. You kneeling in front of him first admiring his big-hard cock, tip coating with precum. You replicated his same motions: grabbed some honey and smeared it into his cock. Spencer moaned at the simple sight.

"Now I'm gonna taste how sweet you are baby," you announced. 

Resting on your elbows, you took the tip in your mouth, tasting it slowly. He groaned hard. Of all the times you gave him a blowjob before, for Spencer, this was undoubtedly the most amazing of all.

You moved your tongue, swirling around him, making sure of licking the pounding main vein. Spencer's breathing was sharp and unsteady. 

"Oh shit (Y/N)… you take it so well, your mouth feels so good," he groaned. You keep your task hollowing your cheeks and bobbing your head. You set a steady pace that made Spencer jerk with each movement. He tried to keep his eyes open to see how you were working on him, but when you speed the pace, he couldn't help throw his head back, closing his eyes in uncontrollable pleasure. Spencer was sure that if you kept doing that, it wasn't going to last much longer, and he was aiming to cum in another part of your body, not your mouth.

"(Y/N)… I need to fuck you right now," he panted. You released his cock and looked at him with a full satisfaction grin. "Knees and hands on the mattress," he commanded, still gasping. You happily complied. With your ass on display, Spencer hardly thought about it and instinctively spank your buttocks with his open hand.

You hissed to the sharp feeling, but it was pleasant. Spencer had never spanked you before, and the very fact had you turned on. Spencer hesitated a little when he realized what he did, but your words lifted any doubt he can have.

"Again! please!... do it again," you begged, and Spencer complied, spanking you again now in the other buttock. You moaned, and Spencer groaned.

"You like that, uh?" he teased.

"Yes!" And he did it again. The sharp pain was nothing compared to the pleasure that followed. You could feel the head of his hard cock in your entrance. Slowly but with no hesitation, he pushes into you. You could feel every inch of him, and it was glorious. A loud wail left your mouth. Spencer hissed, feeling your walls clench around him. Spencer bottomed out, and he took a moment to catch his breath.

"(Y/N)… shit. You're always so tight. You feel so good," he praised.

"Yes, baby, all for you," he grabbed your hips tighter, pulling out his cock almost to the tip and then pushing again into you as he started a slow but intense pace.

As you searched for the perfect rhythm, only moans, praises, and your names came out of your both mouths. Spencer pounded to you harder and faster. You were both a bundle of moans and sighs. You could feel beads of sweat running down your body. The skin-to-skin slamming sound was lustful and wild but delightful. You were both lost in the single goal of pleasing each other and reaching your orgasms.

"Fuck Spencer! I'm gonna cum!" you cried.

"Yeah, sweetheart, me too. C'mon, give me your sweet cum, and I'll give you mine," he commanded.

Spencer moaned, on the edge of his own pleasure. His words did the trick. He thrust you once, twice, and in the third one, your impending orgasm exploded in you, running through your entire body. You curled your toes at the pleasant feeling, moaning Spencer's name and another sort of lost words. Your walls clenched around him tightest, you still in your high, feeling his cock twitched before he expulsed his warm release into you. Your eyes squeezed shut in delight, feeling how he rode out your both orgasms.

You guys stilled for a moment, trying to catch your breath. Spencer was the first to move, pulling out of you, as you turned to your back in the mattress. He rolled to your side, both of you looking at each other with a huge grin, still panting.

"Wow... that was..." he trailed off, setting a strand of your hair behind your ear.

"Yeah... I know. Amazing," you replied, giggling.

"Why we didn't do this before?" Spencer wondered.

"Well, I don't know. But I wanted to," you confessed.

"Why you didn't tell me then?" he asked, stroking your cheek.

"Maybe I didn't know if you wanted to try things like these?" you hesitantly replied. Spencer looked at you lovingly. He could stay and admire you forever if he could.

"I must confess I didn't know exactly if this kind of thing could like me, but with you... I'm sure there is nothing that could dislike me. If you want to try anything, I'm more than willing with you," he replied, leaning to kiss you. You smiled into the kiss. 'How could you be so lucky to have someone like him?' you thought. The funny thing is that Spencer believes the same about you.

"Well, I think this experimentation went quite well, don't you think?" you said, beaming.

"Yes, I do. But now we're sticky, we need a shower," Spencer acknowledged.

"Sticky sweet," you corrected. Spencer chuckled and offered his hand to you to stand up.

You both went to take a shower. Needless to say, the shower served not only to clean up the remnants of your previous activities but to add new ones. You guys came out of the bathroom exhausted, changed the sheets, and plummeted onto the bed.

You snuggled into his side, resting your head on his shoulder. Spencer hugged you and kissed your forehead. Both ready to fall into a deep sleep.

"Please, remind me tomorrow emailing to Joe Elliot to thank him," you mumbled, nuzzling into Spencer's neck. Your eyes flutter shut and dozing off.

"Who?" Spencer asked, confused. You chuckled, almost falling asleep. Of course, Spencer didn't know who he was.

"Let's say we both practiced today what is pour some sugar on me, thanks to him," you giggled. Spencer breathed a laugh.

"Oh. Okay. Thank him for me too," Spencer said, smirking.

"I will,” you replied, snuggling more close to Spencer. “Spencer?" you asked him, a few seconds far to fall knock out.

"Yes, sweetheart?" he mumbled, almost in the same condition as you.

"I love you," you blurted out. Because it was true. Your love for that man grows any second passed, and you didn't care to admit it now.

"I love you too, (Y/N)... sticky sweet," Spencer replied. You both giggled, groggy with sleep. "And (Y/N)?" he added like he forgot something important to tell you.

"Uhm?"

"Can we listen to your playlist tomorrow? I'm curious about what are we going to do next." You didn't remember if you replied to him, but you surely would think of something new to try next in your dreams.

———————

AN2: I’m sorry but I’m a sucker for 80′s music.

I’m tagging some moots around here!: @andiebeaword @blameitonthenight21 @dreatine @sierraraeck @paulaern @calm-and-doctor @spencers-dria @safertokiss @hopefulfangirl24  @reverdevivre  @matthewstiles1912 @goldentournesol @psychedellic-phase @psychicdonuts​

[staticscreenwriting]

LOVE LIKE THE MOVIES // BUCKY BARNES // 7

SEVEN - SERENDIPITY

Trigger warning: Alcohol, food

Masterlist

Summary: This is a story of boy meets girl. The boy, Bucky Barnes, finds himself thrown into a world that seems so different from everything he’s ever known. The girl, (Y/N) knows entirely too much about rom-coms and is quite particular about the way she eats her popcorn. Bucky meets (Y/N) a few months after returning to NYC. He knows almost immediately that becoming her friend is inevitable. This is a story of boy meets girl. This is a story about love. (Bucky Barnes x female!Reader // a few spoilers for TFATWS)

“Okay, that’s ridiculous!” Bucky mumbles around a spoonful of fruit loops.

“What is?”

“This,” he responds and points his now empty spoon accusingly at John Cusack. “This whole fate thing. The book, sure, might happen. But the dollar bill? Never!”

(Y/N) puts her empty bowl on the couch table, turning her body towards Bucky and sitting in a criss-cross style. “You telling me you don’t believe in fate and soulmates and that some people are destined to be together.”

“No,” Bucky retorts in a tone that implies it was a silly question to even ask him. “I am 106 years old. If those things were true you'd think I would've found my destined partner by now."

"Maybe you have" (Y/N) shrugs. "Maybe it's Leah. Have you called her anyway?"

Bucky looks down sheepishly into the colorful milk swirling through his bowl. "No."

“ What? Why not? “

“Because it hasn’t — oh I don't know. It just hasn’t felt right.”

He’d been debating on giving her a call many times, never actually going through with it. At first, it was for a fear of failure, rejection. Now though, Leah doesn’t cross his mind as much as before. His thoughts, he noticed recently, are occupied by another person. And it wouldn't be fair to Leah or himself to try and build something on shaky ground at best.

“ Dude, I’m educating you on romance and you are too afraid to call this girl? “

“ Educating me? You are forcing me to watch rom coms. “

“ Forcing you? “ (Y/N) gasps and dramatically slaps her hand to her chest right above where her heart is. “ Are you saying you’re not having fun? “

There’s a smirk on her face, tiny and barely there but he notices it anyway. He’s started noticing the small things. Like how her nose scrunches up when she smiles and how she twiddles with her fingers when she’s nervous.

“ If I didn’t have fun I wouldn’t be here. “ Bucky replies and bumps his leg against her knee. Truth be told, he’d be here anyway. Even if she’d make him watch the most boring movie in the entire world he’d stay right there with her. Sometimes the world doesn't seem so rough and ruthless when she’s there beside him. Sometimes he feels like he could genuinely be happy.

“ Good, “ (Y/N) responds and places a quick kiss on his cheek that very nearly gives him a heart attack. Soft touches are something she grants him every so often and while he is getting used to it, it’s still foreign. It’s something he enjoys quite a lot though.

“Anyway, soulmates finding their way back to each other despite all odds is such a rom-com stable. Like the kiss in the rain or the airport chase or the top-of-the-stairs-moment.”

“ The what ? “

(Y/N) scoffs at him as if she’s never been asked a more ridiculous question in her life.

“ The moment when the girl gets a makeover or she dresses up in some ballgown and her love interest waits at the bottom of the stairs for her and when he sees her he’s so enamored and enchanted by her and ideally there’s some cheesy 90s love song playing in the background. And she meets him at the bottom, walking in slow motion obviously, and they don’t kiss or anything but the looks they share are enough to let the audience know what they feel for one another.”

Her words are heavy with passion and longing and magic and for a second Bucky wishes, he could be the one to give her that moment.

“ But okay, grumpy. You go on not believing in soulmates. I’ll change your mind one day, trust me.”

He doesn’t doubt it for a second.

They sink back into their blissful calm as John Cusak and Kate Beckinsale reconnect on the ice rink in front of Rockefeller Center as an ocean of Christmas lights twinkles in the background.

“ I’ve never been ice skating there. Been living here for so many years now and that’s still something I’ve never done. “ (Y/N) pipes up, a longing swinging alone with her words. “ Have you? “

“ Mmmh. Used to take a lot of girls on dates there. “

“ Oh sorry, I forgot you were a big charmer back in the day. “

“ Saw the first-ever Christmas tree getting set up in 1933. '' he continues to say. Sometimes talking about the past makes him sad. It’s a time he will never be able to go back to. A man he will never be again.

But sometimes, like today, he’s able to recall little snippets of memories and remember how he felt in that exact moment. And those are worth all the pain that thinking about the future might bring.

“ That — is weird flex but actually really cool. “

Bucky doesn’t think of himself as cool. He’s a grumpy 106-year-old who is completely disillusioned with the world around him. If (Y/N) thinks so though, he’s not gonna try to change her mind.

She snuggles back into him, body leaning against the smooth vibranium arm. A part of him he never felt really belonged to himself. Something he had been given to kill, to defend, to fight. If something so dangerous can be a place of comfort to her, Maybe, he thinks, it’s not so bad after all. Maybe sometimes you just have to let go of the part and change your perspective of things.

For a while, they get lost in the movie, in the fictional love of two strangers. He remembers the romance novels his mothers used to read. The way she would get lost in them. Maybe to escape her own life for just a second and follow along with the stories and the people that seemed so much grander than her own existence as a housewife stuck in a life that seems too small to contain her in all her wonderful glory. His mother, Bucky always knew even at a young age, deserved more than she had been given. She was smart and funny and she loved her kids as much as a heart could love another. But her days were dull and her marriage was one of convenience more than anything. She had ideas, beautiful stories swirled around her head, and she’d tell them to him and his sister before she’d tuck them into bed. And yet that is where they stayed, in her mind and in her children's memories. She was never resentful though. She took things as they came and she made them beautiful.

He wonders sometimes, what would’ve come from her ideas if she had been given the chance to tell them to a bigger audience. She could’ve put those rom-coms to shame.

A knock on the front door startles (Y/N), making her get up from the couch and follow LAdy towards the entrance. There’s a definite lack of warmth where she used to be and Bucky feels himself missing her already.

“ It’s probably Robin, she left her favorite jacket here the other — mom? “

The air fills with a chaotic mix of several voices one speaking over the other while the charm on Lady’s collar underlines it all with a jingling sound like that of a small bell.

Before he can even think about how to react, (Y/N) steps back into the living room followed by two more people. A woman who looks like an older version of her and a man. They seem lost in conversation still, talking about their travel to NYC and the fact that the man, who Bucky assumes is (Y/N)’s father, refused to ask for directions.

That’s until their eyes fall on Bucky. The woman regards him with a gentle smile on her face, polite and warm as mothers usually are. The man though. There’s something in his eyes, in his demeanor, that changed once he set sight on Bucky and it doesn’t feel good. Bucky knows what it’s like to be recognized. People see him and then they see all the bodies left in his wake, all the blood on his hands, all the pain and the suffering and the —

“ Sergeant Barnes. “

They used to call him that in Wakanda, as a sign of respect, he believes. To make him realize that they do not see him as the thread he used to be but the man he once was. Other than that it’s been a long time since people referred to him as Sergeant Barnes. It’s a title he takes pride in, something he worked hard for. It also belongs to a man he isn’t anymore. Bucky isn’t sure he still earns it. Still owns it.

“ Uh — hello. “

“Dad, “ (Y/N) says and pushes past her parents to stand next to Bucky. Her hand rests on his arm as a sign of comfort and reassurance. He appreciates it very much. “ Mom. This is Bucky. “

“ I can’t believe it. “ her father exclaims, still not taking his eyes off of Bucky.

“ Dad. “

“ I can not believe it. I can’t believe you! “

There it is. Although Bucky has always been very aware that he wasn’t nearly worth (Y/N)’s time, having it thrown in his face hurts more than he likes to admit.

“ Dad … “

“ You know James Barnes, and you tell me nothing about it? (Y/N) I’ve — I’ve spent so much time researching this man revising all the information people before me have gathered and making sure his legacy and his place in Steve Rogers' life get acknowledged and now I’d have the chance to ask him personally and you — you keep it a secret from me? “

Wait … what ?

“ Bucky, “ (Y/N) says and looks up at him with her gorgeous eyes that never seem to fail at calming him down. “These are my parents and as you can tell, my dad’s a big fan of yours. “

The next few minutes are a chaos of handshakes and nice-to-meet-yous and hugs. Her mother hugs Bucky real tightly, the way mothers do when they know someone needs a hug. And she doesn’t flinch when she feels the metal arm. She just hugs him a little tighter.

“ Why are you guys here? “ (Y/N) asks as her father throws an arm around her shoulder

“ Well, you asked us to look after Lady while you’re gone. “ her mother replies as if it’s the obvious answer.

“ Yeah, but we don’t leave until Friday afternoon. It’s Thursday. “

“ That is truuuue. But dad and I thought we’d surprise you and take you out for a nice dinner since we won’t be spending Christmas together, we thought we could at least try to make up for it. “

(Y/N) shakes her head at her mother’s words. “ I told you guys, it’s not a big deal. You go enjoy your cruise. “

“ And we will but you’re our girl and we want to take you out for dinner. Give your old parents that much, will you” her father jokes and ruffles her hair as if she was just a little girl and maybe she is in that moment, wrapped in his arms.

“ I uh — Bucky and I had plans. “

“ What plans? “ her mother asks, eyebrows raised.

“ Watching movies. “

“ Oh, those aren’t plans. Go get dressed! “

“ And James will obviously come with us, “ her dad adds “ I am not done asking him questions. “

It’s not December yet but the restaurant is already decked out in Christmas lights and tastefully placed sparkly ornaments. The soft lull of Christmas carols being played on a piano flows through the room and Bucky is thankful to discover that while so much has changed, many of those songs have stayed the same. Maybe things aren’t all different right now. Maybe the fundamental things have stayed the same. Like the feeling of being with your family sitting by the tree, singing songs that have been passed down from your parents to you.

(Y/N) sits next to him, lips painted the exact same shade of red as her slouchy knit sweater. She looks so cozy and comfortable and soft and if he’s being really honest with himself, all he wants to do is hold her tight and get lost in her warmth. But this is good, as good as it can ever get, really. Sitting next to her, across from her parents who have been nothing but kind to him. They’re eating good food, drinking delicious drinks and her parents are sharing funny and slightly embarrassing stories about (Y/N). This is the first time he’s meeting anyone’s parents as the man he is now. And even back in the 40s things weren’t this calm and easy. If you went to meet a woman’s parents you better came prepared. This feels nice. Like he gets to be part of a family for just a teeny tiny moment.

“ So, how long have you guys been together? “ her mother asks around a fork of tiramisu. While Bucky only looks at her with wide eyes, (Y/N) almost chokes on her wine.

“ Mom, we’re — not. We’re friends. “

“ Oh,” her mother replies, looking unconvinced as her eyes move back and forth between (Y/N) and Bucky “ I guess I must’ve read that wrong. Shame, you would make adorable babies. “

“ Mom!”

Bucky’s sure his cheeks are the same color as her sweater and her lips and her fingernails. A beautiful bright red. Like a Santa’s hat.

“ I know, babe. You’re an independent woman who makes her own decisions and if you decide not to have babies that’s alright with us. As long as you are happy, so are we. Lady makes for a wonderful substitute grandchild. Just sayin’ if you were to have babies with Bucky they would turn out really cute. “

“ Okay, how about we stop talking about my imaginary potential future children, huh? You go tell me more about work, dad. How about that? “

As her dad starts talking about some history classes he teaches and the students, Bucky notices the change in (Y/N)’s demeanor. Her laid-back ease is gone. She keeps fidgeting with her hair and the rings on her hand. Without really thinking about it, like his body is working on autopilot, Bucky reaches out and grabs her hand under the table. It’s still weird, touching soft skin with his metal hand without the intention of inflicting pain. It’s nice though. It’s wonderful.

She doesn’t let go for a long time.

Restrooms in restaurants are places where time is slightly altered. You’re sheltered from the noises of the main room but they’re still faintly audible through the door. The clinking of glasses and cutlery, the laughter, and the voices as they flow together like waves in an ocean.

It feels like you get a break from the real world for just a moment. To catch yourself. To take a breath. To look at yourself in the mirror and decide your next steps as the music sounds from the overhead speakers in a duller version as if someone wrapped the lyrics in thick cotton padding.

(Y/N) washes her hands while looking at her reflection. Today’s a good day. It’s not going the way she has expected it but it’s a good day nonetheless. Bucky and her parents get along like a house on fire. It’s a nice feeling but it also makes her so acutely aware of all the what-ifs floating around her head and her heart. Would it feel like this if she and Bucky were more than friends? Would it feel this — right?

Before her mind can come up with an answer to her own question, the door to the restrooms swings open letting in a sliver of the noise outside. Her mother steps in and looks at her with that signature mom smile. Like she knows you better than you know yourself. And maybe that isn’t entirely wrong.

“ Your dad and I are going to take a cab to the hotel. We’ll come over to yours tomorrow before you leave. Is that okay? Bucky said he’d walk you home.”

Of course, he’d say that. He’s a gentleman. He’s Bucky.

“ Sure that’s fine. I’m glad you guys came a day early. I missed you. “

“ We missed you too, baby,” she responds and pulls (Y/N) into a hug.

“ Now tell me something,” she says and takes (Y/N)’s face in between her hands. “ You and Bucky. There’s something there. “

(Y/N) shakes free from her mother's touch and faces the mirror, leaning both hands against the marble sink. “ Mom, can you leave it. “

“ I see the way you guys look at each other. I — you haven’t been this happy in so long. He makes you happy. “

As she lifts her head and looks into her own eyes in the mirror, (Y/N) feels a flood of emotions wash over her. Emotions she’s tried so hard to suppress and others she wasn’t even aware were there in the first place. And it’s all comes crashing down pulling her under and spitting her back out.

“ So what if he makes me happy. We’re not gonna happen. I can not lose a friend and he can’t either. It would kill us both. “

“ Oh honey, “ she goes to pull (Y/N) into another hug but she just shakes her head in response.

“ No. No, mom. It’s okay. I’m okay with it being the way it is. “

“ Are you sure? “

Is she? (Y/N) looks back at herself. You think you know yourself and what you want and how you feel and then someone asks you, truthfully asks you if you’re sure. And you can only stare and wonder. Well, are you?

And sometimes it’s way easier to lie, to both the other person and yourself, than to really face your fears and your feelings and everything you do or don’t understand about yourself.

“ Yeah. I am sure. “

It’s true. New York City never seems to fully go to sleep. There’s always a light on somewhere, guiding you through the dark, guiding you home.

It doesn’t fully go to sleep but it slows down. The air gets heavier, the noise gets quieter.

(Y/N) and Bucky slowly make their way through the familiar streets of their neighborhood as the city lights and the stars fight over who gets to shine more brightly upon them.

It’s a chilly evening, winter is truly just around the corner, and the air feels pregnant with the promise of snow and yet (Y/N) feels a warmth course through her that is unlike any other. A warmth that can only be brought on by being with your loved ones.

“ It’s a lovely night,” she says as her heels create a clip-clap sound against the pavement.

Bucky has his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket and his ever-present scowl decorates his face and yet, even Bucky can’t deny that it is a lovely night. One with so much potential. For — for lovers.

“ It really is.”

“ If life was a movie, “ (Y/N) says “ this would be when we realized that we're in love"

Bucky only raises his eyebrow at her, pushing her to elaborate. And maybe it’s a bit selfish. Maybe he just wants to hear her entertain the thought of them two as something more for just a little bit longer. Even if it’s just pretend.

“ We’d get a montage of some quirky dates that we didn’t realize were dates. Then the camera would pan down on us tonight, walking underneath the stars, the city lights glowing around us. There’d be some piano music in the background to set the mood. We’d have a deep talk about our fears or messed up childhoods or the meaning of life. And then you’d make me laugh and I’d accidentally hold your hand. You’d drop me off at my door, think about kissing my lips but then end up kissing my forehead. Once you leave I’d lean against my door, sink down to my floor, and grin like a fool because that’s the moment I realize I am in love with you and the audience would sigh in relief because they knew all along. “

“ That sounds nice,” Bucky replies, eyes staring into the distance as he tries to picture it all, safe it as a mental snapshot to go back to in quiet moments.

“ Yeah, well what a shame life is not a movie and we’re not in love. What a waste of a lovely night. “

“ Guess it’s perfect for a couple, huh? “ Bucky has to agree with her.

“ Mmmh. Or at least someone not in heels, “ (Y/N) jokes looking down at her shoes.

“ You want me to find a couple? Gift our night to them ? “ Bucky asks as they continue their journey down the Brooklyn streets.

“ Absolutely not, sir! “ (Y/N) responds and links her arm with his as she pulls him along. “ I like our night. I want to keep it for ourselves. “

And so they continue their walk home. Words that want to be said, that need to be said, hang heavy in the air, and yet they both decide to stay quiet and just enjoy the silence and comfort of their lovely little night.

The door feels like mocking her as it comes into view, cutting their moment short, putting an end to this blissful night.

She doesn’t want it to end. Doesn’t want to go inside and quite literally close the door to all the possibilities this night seems to hold out to her. If she was just brave enough to reach out and grab them.

(Y/N) unlock the door and turns back around to face Bucky. Something seems to hang in the air right between them and that feeling only gets stronger as their eyes lock. For a moment all there is, is silence and an abundance of unspoken words. And a fear that comes with speaking them. Of messing something up. Of being vulnerable.

Bucky smiles at her then. She loves his smile. It’s so rare but it’s so beautiful to look at. It gives you the feeling of having done something right.

“ Thanks for today, “ he says as if there’s anything to thank her for.

“ For what? “

“ Letting me be a part of your family. Thought maybe you didn’t want your parents to know about me. Thanks for — not being ashamed of me or anything. “

“ Oh Bucky, “ she says and grabs his hand, “ You are my friend and I love you. I’d never be ashamed of you. If anything I’m a little embarrassed by the way my dad kept pestering you with questions. Uh — why are you looking at me like that. “

“ You love me? “ his voice comes out but a mere whisper and his eyes are wide in shock.

“ Yes. You’re my friend, I love you. Bucky when — when was the last time someone told you they love you? “ (Y/N) asks as her hand softly strokes the side of his face.

“ 1942 “

“ Well, guess I’ll have to keep reminding you then, make up for lost time. I love you, Bucky Barnes. “

She can’t even blink before she’s wrapped up in his arms. Despite what one would think, Bucky is always warm. Even the vibranium arm. Everything radiates warmth and comfort. She could stay here forever.

Slowly he pulls away, looks deep into her eyes, lowers his head, and places his lips against her forehead. “ I love you too. “

He smiles at her once more then leaves. And while she won't admit it to anyone, ever, (Y/N) goes inside, leans against her door, sinks to the floor, and doesn't even try to suppress the foolish smile spreading on her lips.

Robin’s laughter fills the halls of the beautiful Inn where just tomorrow she’ll say I do.

“ This was your doing! You scheming little shit.” (Y/N) grumbles from the corner of her mouth as she slides up to Robin.

“ It wasn’t, “ the red-haired girl laughs “ but I wish it was. It’s hilarious.“

Redstone Lodge is a beautiful Inn located in upstate New York. It looks out onto a lake and is surrounded by lots and lots of Christmas trees all year round. It’s made of bricks and big wooden panels. Very rustic and yet cozy and elegant. In the yard, there’s a huge tent with a wooden floor and a see-through roof. That’s where the reception will be held tomorrow.

Redstone Lodge has 35 rooms all of which have been distributed to the various guests. They’re beautiful rooms with nice decor and comfortable beds. Well — a bed. One. Singular.

“ This is like some fanfiction trope, Robin. There is only one bed? “

“ Look," Robin says and pulls (Y/N) closer “ if you want to switch, find someone to switch with. I’m sure someone is willing to. But I’m just saying that if you two are friends, shouldn’t you be able to sleep in a bed together and not make it weird? “

She has a point and she knows it and she also knows that (Y/N) knows it.

Huffing a breath of annoyance (Y/N) grumbles an “okay fine” before letting Robin be taken hostage by yet another overly excited aunt and returns to Bucky’s side as he stands on the front steps looking out into the vast area. It really is a beautiful place to get married.

“ Hey so uh — bad news is that this is the only room they have so we’ll have to share a bed. Good news is they got some movies to take up to the room and I found some really dope rom-coms. “

“It's okay, don't worry. I promise I won't hog the blanket,” Bucky says and nods his head into the direction of the lake “ wanna take a walk? “

“ Sure. Yeah, why not. “

In all honesty (Y/N) isn’t the biggest fan of walking around the woods with no particular destination in mind and yet she can’t help but feel a sense of happiness fill her as she links her arm with Bucky’s once again.

She realized a while ago that she tends to gravitate towards his left side. It isn’t a conscious decision but maybe it’s a good one nonetheless.

Maybe it’ll show him that every part of him is worth loving, even the ones he doesn’t love himself.

“ When was the last time you did something crazy? “

He doesn’t like the way those words sound tumbling from her lips. He does, however, like very much how her eyes sparkle in the light of the setting sun. Their walk had turned into a bit of a hike and by the time they’ve finally made it back to the lake, the sun is about to set. Everyone seems to have retreated back into the lodge, maybe to sit by the big cozy fireplace or up to their room with their several beds. More than one. plural.

Bucky doesn’t want to let go of their time together though. Not yet. Just a little bit longer. And if that means agreeing to one of her weird ideas, so be it.

"Uh well, I fought aliens a few months ago."

"Huh … well see that's not an answer I was prepared for I mean more like, when did you last do something stupid but fun?"

“Like dancing in the middle of a street or having a cake fight in a parking lot?”

“Yeah …. like that.”

She looks at him again with that mischief and that softness. Like a mix of all things that make you feel alive shine back at him from her eyes.

“Wanna go swimming?” (Y/N) asks and smirks at him.

“Now? It’s freezing.”

“ I know,” she replies and shrugs her shoulders “ and I know it’s silly and dumb and we’ll probably get sick but I kinda wanna do it anyway. Wait … can you get sick?”

“Huh?”

“Because of the serum.”

“You know, they didn’t exactly give me a manual when they injected it so — guess we’ll have to find out.”

“So you’re in?”

Bucky only nods his head in agreement. She doesn’t need to know that he’d agree to anything she suggests. Any little thing.

The woods around them are dark and thick and where they probably should be scary they are comforting now. They’re a shelter from the eyes of onlookers. A safe roof and walls to keep their little bubble safe and hold their moment tight and safe.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” (Y/N) hisses through clenched teeth as the water reaches up to her shoulders, the straps of her yellow bra the only colors shining through the dark night.

Don’t think about it. He has to tell himself. Don’t think about the fact that she’s only in her underwear. Don’t think about her soft skin and her smile and what her body feels like against yours. Don’t!

He doesn’t have to scold himself for too long before a cold splash of water hits him right in the face.

“Oh, you made a mistake” Bucky calls out to a laughing (Y/N) who tries her best to tread water and get as far away from him as possible but fails to do so, being wrapped up in his arms only seconds later.

For the next few minutes, they splash around like children at the neighborhood pool.

The cold of the night and the lake rattle their bones but neither of them seems to care as a familiar warmth wraps itself around their hearts.

It’s really fascinating how the little moments can become so meaningful. How one person can mean so much so quickly. How drastically your life can change just because of one single person and their kindness and their love.

“Oh-oh!” (Y/N) exclaims excitedly and lays little enthusiastic slaps on Bucky’s shoulder “let’s do the dirty dancing lift. You can lift me, right?”

“I have a vibranium arm…”

“Right. Yeah. Right.”

Bucky places his hands on her waist and pulls her a little closer, trying to ignore the incessant thumping of his heart that feels like it wants to break out of his chest. “Okay on 3.”

“One”

Her eyes look deep into his as if trying to search for something in them. Secrets. Hidden feelings. The truth.

“Two”

And when she smiles, almost shy, it seems for a second that she’s found whatever she’s been looking for. He hopes she likes the secret she uncovers. He hopes it doesn’t scare her off from loving him.

“Three”

In a swift motion, he lifts her up above his head, holding her strong and steady as drops of water, cold as ice, rain down on him while (Y/N) laughs and stretches out her arms.

“We did it! I’m flying, Jack!”

“What?”

“Nevermind.” She retorts and lets out another laugh. Yeah, maybe he’s freezing his ass off but to hear her laugh like that, makes it all worth it.

He doesn’t let her fall over like they do in the movie, instead, he grips her waist tighter, slowly and gently lowers her back into the water. And when she’s back right in front of him, chest against his, he should be letting go of her, but he doesn’t.

While his head keeps screaming at him to just let go, his heart tells him otherwise, makes him stay right there.

(Y/N)’s arms move across his chest and gently wrap themselves around his neck before her fingers start to delicately play with his hair.

He wonders if any person has ever felt the way he does in that moment. He wonders if maybe a poet or a writer or a musician has and if maybe they wrote a poem or a book or a song about it. Maybe that would help him understand. Maybe he could read it or listen to it and keep this moment captured in that piece of art forever. Because he fears that no memory can ever do justice to the way he feels when she moves closer.

When her hand cups his face when her nose nuzzles against his so gently as if she’s afraid he’ll pull away any second.

It’s just them and their wildly beating hearts and the woods providing them shelter and the water setting the scene and the stars shining down upon them.

It’s just them — until it isn’t.

“(Y/N), Bucky? You guys out there?” Robin's voice calls out into the night as her silhouette appears against the light coming from the porch of the Inn.

“Yes, it’s us. We’ll be right in.” (Y/N) calls back, having moved away slightly. The spell is broken and Bucky lifts his hand off of her, immediately missing the contact.

“It’s freezing, we should probably go inside.” She says and grants him a smile, though it doesn’t entirely reach her eyes and he can faintly see her shivering.

“Yeah let’s go. Get you warmed up.”

They don’t talk about their moment as they head inside and get swallowed by the group of people all hyped up with excitement for the coming day.

Bucky is sure though that as long as there are stars in the sky, he will not forget this moment however fleeting and insignificant it might seem.

TAGLIST FORM (fill this out to be added)

Taglist // if you want to be added or taken off just message me :) //:

@zaynyierulez - @je-like-you - @dracoxxyoflam - @jackiehollanderr - @majo240820 - @kay-gilles - @booksb4looksstuff - @jckie94 - @charmed-asylum - @shawnie--jo - @yllwtaxi - @tailsoflightning - @giuliarogers - @mangoogirl - @gerim-1995 - @elen-alambil - @threeminutesoflife - @writeroutoftime - @buckybarn3s - @rosaline-black - @kenziekugler22 - @vghz82 - @frnkensteingrl - @lovefreylove - @cherryofdeath - @bluemoon-icecream - @mariusprincess-blog -

[the-silentium]

Featuring a Dimwit

Masterlist

Pairing: Bad Batch x Reader, Hunter x Reader, Crosshair x Reader

Words: 3236 words

Warnings: Mmmh. None. 

A/N: This series begins after the saga “After the Nightmares”. If you’re new, you might want to start with Good Night, Good Luck if you want to understand what’s going on.

Taglist: @clone-rambles  / @mandaloriandin / @apathetic-catastrophie / @jenstar1992-2 / @haloangel391 / @lightning-wolffe / @cherrydemon5 / @and-claudia / @lackofhonor / @gaymasonjar / @depthsreturn / @koskareevesismyqueen / @leonidas-banana-phone              

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It had been going on for a bit less than a month. The back and forth of pranks between each and every male member of the Bad Batch, passing from moving around one's equipment up to tripping others or painting insults on an inattentive brother's backplate. 

No one ever admitted they did the prank and you often took the blame despite never participating when you couldn't contain your laughter and no one was able to back you up on your whereabouts of the day. It wasn't a bother to be the scapegoat for whoever really pulled the pranks- your best bet was on Wrecker, although some tricks had more of a Tech vibe, like the time Crosshair's modulator had such a high pitched tone that the civilians mistook him for a female- the pranks were overall pretty entertaining. When they weren't targeted at you, that is. 

You could have murdered the one who put Knytixes under your bedsheets. Thank the gods, you avoided jumping right onto the 6 crawling insects due to the light illuminating the barracks since you were the first one who headed to bed, although it didn't stop your hand from squashing one under your palm in inadvertence. The nearly empty room filled with clones in record time as your surprised scream resonated through the closed door and bounced between the ship's walls. Since no one took its responsibilities, you threatened everyone's masculinity and claimed a spot in Hunter's cot while Tech used jars to take away the remaining insects that Back-Up hadn't had time to eat. 

The intensity of the pranks dropped in the following days and none were meant for you, leading you to believe that the Batcher who hid the disgusting critters in your bed understood that he went too far or was too scared for his balls. 

Hunter was resting after a tiring morning of paperwork, Tech was fumbling on his datapad with this concentrated gaze that only he could have while reading endless oceans of information on whatever was his interest at the moment, Back-Up was lounging on his shoulder to absorb the warmth radiating from his blacks and Wrecker cheered you up as you competed against Crosshair on who could reach the top of the tree the fastest. 

"This needs to stop!" Hunter had barged out of the Marauder in a yell, quickly breaking your concentration 10 meters above the ground and only 2 away from your objective. 

The quick glance you allowed yourself to throw his way was a bad choice. The shock of seeing the right side of his face blackened out to mirror the tattoo on his left side caused you to grab the wrong tree limb, a smaller one that couldn't possibly sustain your weight and would have sent you flying down if only your right hand wasn't firmly wrapped around a thicker branch. 

Crosshair won the competition and you were dangling in the air by one hand, huffing in defeat. You knew he'd wear a victorious smirk for the remaining hours of the day, you had annoyed him so much about being a better climber in the hope to have a short playful time with him. It was frustrating to know that you were winning right before Hunter came in the picture and broke your focus. 

You may be a better climber, but Crosshair definitely was better at staying focussed on his task and ignoring each and every distraction. 

"Oh that's a good one!" Wrecker's laugh sent him knocking against the tree, the resulting vibrations threatening the reliability of your grip. If only you were wearing your fingerless gloves, the bark of the tree wouldn't bite your skin as much and you wouldn't be tempted to let go. "Don't know who thought of that but this is the best idea of the month!" 

"It wasn't me." Tech immediately added to dissipate any suspicions, not even bothering to look up from his datapad while doing so. 

"Not me either!" You shouted while reaching for the branch with your opposite hand and pulled yourself up to sit and give a break to the sensitive skin of your palms. "And I was with Cross the whole day." A grunt of approval resonated behind you, even though it was completely unnecessary and clearly didn't reach Hunter. Or maybe it did. 

The sniper took a seat next to you, one hand keeping his balance with a branch in its grip while the other kept you close by your waist. 

Once again, no one took its blame. You wondered if you should laugh about it or not. The guys- because it really never participated in these shenanigans and you were certain it wasn't Back-Up either- always managed to never leave clues and never get caught in the act and you were deeply admiring their skills. They weren't top commandos for nothing! 

"No. More." Was Hunter pissed? No. He was fuming. "Or next time we're on base I'll register everyone for a thorough medical exam." 

Oh the ultimate punishment was out. The prank war ultimately reached its end on a fine sunny afternoon as there was no way it could compete against a complete medical exam, the displeasure that came with the variety of tests surpassed by far the good laugh of pranking someone, and thus, you knew no trooper in this team would dare pull another trick. 

"C'mon Sarge. Not that."Wrecker was the first to complain about the consequences, quickly followed by Tech who stated that all your physical health were optimum. 

"Yes that, and I don't care if we're all at our top. The smallest of trick on anyone of this team will get all your asses in the medbay." He finished in a do not test me tone and returned inside the ship to scrub the ink off his face. 

The muscles pressed against your side were now rock hard, same as the grip slowly tightening around your waist. 

"Don't worry." A peck on his cheek was enough to take his mind off the needles and noisy machines. "No one will dare pull one if that's where it'll get us." The creases between his scrunched eyebrows relaxed with a small nod, knowing just like you that his brothers would not play with that fire. 

You would all be fine. 

______

"I'll kill the one who pulled this one." You fumed in the examination room, knee bouncing under your hand as you waited for the doctor to come back and dismiss you. 

The wait allowed you to think of a plan to finally know who was pulling those jokes and make them regret it. Multiple ideas grew in your mind, one for each member. The planning got interrupted momentarily by the clone who entered your room to inform you that you were in perfect health. Your tests were flawless just like your bloodwork and he couldn't see why your CO requested such a rigorous examination. 

"Someone pissed in his cereal." You jumped off the table and shrugged at the bewildered look on the man's face before taking off in the direction of the hangar. 

It wasn't nearly as drastic as someone peeing in a bowl, but it certainly was just as insulting. 

That last one was personal to the team and you couldn't get how a member of the Batch could do this. It just didn't make sense. Them who constantly fought against the snide remarks, disdainful gazes and harsh behavior, could not possibly have degraded themselves like that.

You quickly boarded the ship after successfully ignoring all the regs watching you speed walking to your destination. Hunter was there with the rest of the boys, watching the insignia over the door like the name of the culprit was written somewhere in it. 

You pushed the button to close the railing and keep this event private, before joining the silent half-circle of irritated men glaring at the paint tainting the wall and every so often glaring at the others in the room like they were the ones who did it. Well, one of them did. No one wanted to admit it. 

Clone Force 69 was painted in thick black letters right over the door for everyone inside to see. At least, the rest of the base didn't know. 

Who the hell would write that? That's what you expected from the regs, not from your own team. 

"Hope y'all appreciated the trip in the sterile field." The grumble on your right opened the door for a concert of groans. "Now the person who did this better say it now."

"But I told you it couldn't be any of us!" Arms open wide at his sides, Tech repeated exactly what he did before Hunter contacted the medbay to order four medical exams. "We all went to bed at the same time and all exited the barracks together. No one got up during the night!" 

You could testify for yourself and Hunter for that. Really, it was unfair that you had to endure the exam, but then it would have been unfair for the other Batchers. At least this time you weren't a suspect. 

"Apparently someone did because it did not write itself." 

"Even the calligraphy doesn't match anyone's!" He pointed out and proceeded to tell how the curves and spacing didn’t correspond to either himself, Wrecker, or Crosshair. 

You perked up at the new information. The calligraphy. It did not match any of the Batcher? But it was so familiar. How could you know these harsh cursive letters if it wasn't the clones'? You never saw anyone else's writing as they all used datapads around here. 

Clone Force 69. Why- it sounded familiar too. Something at the back of your mind bugged you. You knew that. 69. You used to laugh at these references all the time with him. Somehow, when you read it, it was his voice that rang out in your head.

"Guys." The word nearly didn't pass your mouth as the usual tightness in your throat manifested itself like every time you thought about him. "That's Kayden's style. It's his writing too." 

"Took you all long enough! Miss me motherfuckers?" The sight of the very same blue-eyed brunette who disappeared into your arms more than a year and a half ago, magically appearing out of thin air in the center of the room, arms open wide at his side like he was a big surprise froze every thought in your brain. 

Your breathing slowed down while your heart rate perked up, the thudding resonating all the way up your brain to rhythmically ram against the bone and raise the pressure in there. 

"Kayden?" Wrecker stood at the appearance of the newcomer, or ghost, or whatever he was. 

"What did you expect? Ya can't get rid of me that easily." He winked, not even meeting your gaze yet. 

"Wh-You guys seeing him too?!" They all nodded in silence, too stunned to manage anything more. Hunter's hand on your thigh that you hadn't noticed until now tightened at your inquiry.

He looked the same. Same Forsian clothes, same tousled hair with his persistent cowlick at the front, same sparkling energy, although your expert eyes saw through the facade as easily as ever and found some uneasiness. "How- your soul got- you died." 

It took you a month to overcome your denial and finally be able to say that he died and was not simply missing. He didn't just disappear, his soul disappeared. His soul got eaten by a pesky little brat. He had died back there, nearly half an hour before dawn. He died in your arms that night and every following night for three weeks and he couldn't be here. As much as you wanted him to be, he couldn't. 

"Yeah. I'd like to think that it was because whoever was assigned to me on the other side couldn't stand me, but I truly think it's because of your sad ass crying over our crest with the Core around." He shrugged when his eyes finally met yours. "And by the way, you're ugly as fuck when you cry." His diversion to hide his discomfort failed miserably. You saw him gulp as he took in the water filling your eyes. 

"I mourned you, you asshole!" The hand on your thigh wasn't enough to keep you in place. Getting up without a problem, you moved to your once closest friend and the one you considered your brother and punched his shoulder with all your might. You were pissed, but not enough to aim for his face. 

The lack of any concrete object colliding with your knuckles sent you tumbling through his body. It gave you a chill like you'd passed your hand through a mound of snow. The coldness vanished as soon as you completely exited his apparition, leaving goosebumps as the only proof of the momentaneous change of temperature. 

"Neat trick eh? Took me months to master it!" He beamed, truly enthusiastic about his new ability. His smile wavered once he took in your fury. "Okay, okay. Hit me again, I won't do it." He presented his cheek. 

You weren't falling for it again. Your ego was bruised, your feelings were crushed, your whole being was screaming in a mix of anger and relief. 

"Fuck you." He recoiled at your glare. "You were here the whole time, watching me cry over your fuck ass self and didn't say shit." This time, when your fingers poked his chest, they made contact and you noticed how warm he felt compared to the cold from mere moments ago when you passed through him. 

"I wasn't here the whole time." He shook his head to defend himself. "I woke up one day, I think it was a month after it all, and no one could see or hear me. Took me months to build up my strength to be able to move one of the toothpicks that are everywhere in this ship." 

A growl could be heard from behind Kayden who immediately changed something in himself so the toothpick thrown at him passed right through and bounced on your shirt. A click of his tongue and Crosshair was gone, preferring the comfort of his bed after a long visit to the medbay to listening to what the brunette had to say. 

"Wait! So all the pranks, it was you?" Wrecker approached the Forsian, an impressed glint in his eyes. He reached for Kayden's shoulder, surely to try out the feeling of touching a ghost that can actually dematerialize himself. Unfortunately for him, Kayden was now flesh and bones… or whatever he was.

"Needed to come back with style, my friend." He smirked and turned to admire his art tagging the wall. "That's a better team name, ain't it?" 

You used the fact that he was now a solid version of himself to slap the back of his head. It was with a small bit of pleasure that you noted that it felt the same. Even the yelp was exactly as you remembered. 

"You karking sent us to the medbay." Crosshair shot from the room clearly still pissed from his little trip. You felt compelled to go snuggle with him, even more because you had assured him that he wouldn't have to undergo a medical appointment. 

Your frustration towards your brother came back full force. Not only could he have shown himself weeks ago when the first prank started, but he dropped so much shit on all of you, from the long-lasting ink on Hunter's face, to Tech's burned hand when his live wires had been moved without him noticing, to the forced medical trip and let's not forget the bugs in your bed. 

It was a good thing that the sniper wasn't in the room as he would have been mad seeing Kayden trying to keep the smile off his face and failing miserably. "I didn't send you there. He did." He pointed at the Sergeant with a smug grin. "I was just being a nice little ghost."

"Nice? You call yourself nice?" You couldn't take more of his bullshit. If you stayed in the room another second, you'd lash out and it wouldn't be pretty. All the nasty words floating in your mind would hurt more than you really intended and you couldn't have that. Not when you could still hear the repressed sobs racking his body in your head. 

You walked away, tears gathering in your eyes, but you didn't care. Crosshair would hold you again and it'd be fine again. "Fucking Dimwit." 

"Thank you." He called with such seriousness that you stopped in your tracks. "For bringing me back." 

At that moment, water ran down your cheek and there was nothing you could do about it. You wanted to hold him tightly in your arms and pray that he wouldn't fade away this time. But you were scared. Scared he'd do just that. Fade away and leave you once again to try and piece yourself back again, with more missing pieces than you already have. 

You were lucky though. Clone force 99 was good at creating stuff with limited resources to accomplish impossible tasks. With their skills, time, patience, and different level of care, they filled some holes. However, some were still painfully empty and were too intricate to replace. 

"Don't thank me." You sighed, shoulder slumped, hand hovering over the button to open the door to the barracks. 

He frowned. "You can't really be mad at me." 

No, you couldn't. Not when he was back. And even less when he died for you in the first place. 

You shook your head, still watching the marks engraved in the door. "I'm not." 

"Then wh-" "Him." You cut Kayden off to point at Tech whose eyes were as wide as saucers and his body inching closer and closer to get a better look at him. 

"Stay away." Kayden jumped to the side, avoiding the engineer’s curious fingers as well as his scanner that somehow found its way into his possession. 

Still, the clone didn't give up and followed the Forsian wherever he backed-up. "But you can pass through things!" His first try at passing through Kayden was unsuccessful as he met flesh, just like Wrecker. 

"No. I'm not going to be penetrated by your fingers for science. It still feels weird." 

Tech, however, was quick to find a way to get what he wanted. A fist flew to Kayden's face, not too quick to let him time to see it coming, but with enough force to promise a black-eye if he didn't dodge it. If only there had been a wall behind him to stop him from jumping back and avoid the knuckles. 

"But do you get how useful this could be during a mission!" Tech tried again, but Kayden was prepared. 

"Yeah and ghosts can go poof!" He mimed explosions with his hands and disappeared into thin air just as Tech's fist was to make contact. Instead of hitting Kayden, his fist collided with the wall of the Marauder. 

You entered the barracks, Tech's hiss of pain filled the room and caused Crosshair to chuckle in amusement. 

"So we have a ghost now? Can we keep him like we kept Back-Up?" Wrecker asked excitedly. 

"Great. Just. Great." Hunter grumbled, a hand slowly moving down his face and the door closed behind you. 

[helena-thessa]

Hi Helena! Big fan of your writing here🥺♥️ Your rivamika fics are my safe space 😭 (if you have time to answer) i’d love to know when you first started shipping them, why, and what made you continue to love this ship (or anything else to do with your journey as an RM shipper)? i love your characterisation of both levi and mikasa individually, but even more so, your portrayal of their dynamic as a couple, which is why i wanted to ask so badly ☺️ x

Hey anon! Oh woah, first of all, thank you so much. Second of all, oh god, you probably shouldn't have handed me the mic. heh 😅

I’m afraid to look at the word count of this response, I’m sure it’s much more than you bargained for, but I appreciate the question and enjoyed thinking through my response (: Most importantly, I’m so glad you find my stories as a safe space. It’s really an honor. Thank you for sharing with me 🖤🖤

TL; DR As a longtime reader, writer and lover of stories and story-telling, by being someone who pays attention to how stories are crafted and deliberately developed from beginning to end, I sincerely thought Isayama was setting up rivamika as an endgame relationship. So, I read into and interpreted meaning out of ALL their interactions and became deeply invested.

I don’t necessarily ship them cause of the parallels, age gap, enemies to lover trope, height difference, or some of those common reasons and/or kinks. I’m more basic and boring than that. I love the concept of them coming together as though it’s inevitable.

They both are unbelievably strong, selfless, and have suffered so much loss— so, no one else could truly understand them as well as they can understand each other. They both probably would have always settled for a stable, simple life, and been alone and lonely even without realizing it— instead, they find each other, and realize what it means to actually no longer be alone, to do more than just survive. It’s this understated bond, as opposed to a dramatic and passionate romance, that I envision in them and that I love so much.

Then, the passion, heat, the romantic "spark"— I think that’s an added bonus, the cherry on top, the perfect final puzzle piece. They’re both so physically capable, can speak through their actions, and don’t show much need or capacity for emotional/ verbal communication, so the ability to connect with each other through physical intimacy and mind-blowing sex seems like another given.

Still, at the end of the day, for me it comes back to their ability to fully depend on each other, to the inevitability. Not like some soulmate trope where they 'have no choice' in it, but like the stars aligned to prove it's right. How each of them have only one other person on the whole planet who could see and understand them, to be on par with them, to make them realize there’s more to life than settling and surviving, and they happen to find it in each other.

You asked, I rambled 😅 Here’s a breakdown of my thought process in my rivamika journey. For those who make it to the end or want to skip to the end, I'll finish with the excerpt of the very first rivamika scene I felt compelled to to write.

I've tried before to re-watch and remember the exact scenes, exact moments, that initially captured my full attention, but I guess it was all of them, the gradual and cumulative compilation of their earliest interactions.

Mikasa always appearing cool and indifferent, and paying no attention whatsoever to others fawning over, like Jean initially falling for her, but then her strongly reacting over Levi in the courtroom showed how uniquely capable he was at getting under her skin.

Of course, the scene in the forest chasing the Female Titan was a critical one. I think of that as the first time both Levi and Mikasa were truly able to see the other's strength, mental and physical. And for them, orphans and trauma survivors who have suffered extensive loss, I think that seeing strength in another person made them feel less alone. Less alone in a deep, quiet but cataclysm, life-altering sort of way, even if not a romantic one. Like they didn't know it was something they didn't have, something they didn't expect to get from life, but then found it with each other.

(Even when we found out Levi was an Ackerman, I was disappointed if it meant they were immediate relatives, but willing to accept it wouldn't be a romantic end to loneliness, it would be a familial end to loneliness. But... the author never explored that. Not once.)

In that forest scene, manga and anime, the way that Levi pauses to really look and see Mikasa and think about who she is, what she’s gone through, and how strong and dedicated she is now— that was a defining moment. It was also a visual demonstration of Levi breaking character, from aloof and ruthless, to considering and curious. I thought Yams was showing both of them do that on purpose.

Then, Levi getting hurt because of Mikasa in that scene felt like another clue. Sure, it was while saving Eren, and sure, it could have been meant to humanize super-soldier Levi, or sure, it could have been another aspect of how Mikasa rushing into things over Eren ends up hurting other people that later changes in her character development, but it felt like a very pointed statement about Mikasa being a vulnerability for Levi. And that's swoon-worthy, right? Most of us have been exposed to and conditioned by stories about how special and romantic it is to be the one and only girl who can make an otherwise disinterested or unattainable guy actually pay attention to her, and so admittedly I fall right for it.

I’m sure I’m forgetting plenty, but the opening of season 3 felt like confirmation. When Levi figures out Kenny's behind things and entrusts Mikasa with instructions to share with the others, instructions about fighting people instead of titans that ultimately everyone else besides her struggles with, and when Mikasa lets Levi hold her back from chasing after Eren, her most important way of trusting and having faith in Levi, I honestly took that as cues from the author that rivamika was endgame. I let myself get truly invested from then on. That’s that understated bond I was referring to. To me, that unspoken but undeniable trust is the most important dynamic.

Seeing them fight together or fight similarly has always been fun and powerful and fulfilling.

I'm newer to the snk club. I was originally an anime-only fan and started watching in fall 2019, I think. I wasn't on tumblr, twitter, or anything else to see fandom discourse. So, I didn't know that the rooftop scene of Mikasa fighting Levi over the serum was such a staple for our ship until much later. I love the scene just like many do for all the reasons we do, but I don't think the actual scene was pivotal for me, so much as it's aftermath. I thought it represented two things.

One, it was an important marker in Levi's characterization. Hands-down one of the most striking scenes to me is the one where Levi is in the alley, somber and alone, listening in on Eren, Armin, and Mikasa talking together. It artfully shows his longing for hope and connection. So, when Levi chose Armin for the serum, that represented Levi choosing hope. And when Mikasa ultimately gave up fighting Levi and didn't choose Armin, which Armin finds out about later on, I see that as an important marker in Mikasa's development. It puts a wedge between her and Armin/Eren [Armin, because he knows she would have let him die, and Eren, because Armin is too special to him and he couldn't look at her the same way after realizing she would have let him die]. That distance between her and her childhood friends is one I don't think could ever be healed completely, one of those painful lessons in growing up. By doing that, it then also puts a distance in Mikasa's own childhood self to her current self. I thought that matured her and separated her out in a way that was another clue toward eventual rivamika developments.

That's a whole other conversation on Mikasa, but I’ll stay on track. Her love for Armin was absolutely authentic and fierce, but at the end of the day, at the core of her being, she chose survival over hope. Meanwhile, Levi chose hope over survival. To me, that was soft, fertile ground for the reasons why eventually, if/when Mikasa found hope and chose hope, that could directly tie together with her inevitably in coming together with Levi. Again, less butterflies and fireworks, but more natural and in a way that was just a given.

I wrote Beyond the Walls before reading the manga from the Marley Arc and on, so that's why most of that story is her journey into embracing that hope. *manga spoilers* There's a lot of meta, criticism and talk about Mikasa's silent, off-screen and subtle style of character development in the Marley Arc and afterward. I won't go down that road, I'm still processing the end of the manga to be honest, but I think it's fair to say she does eventually end up choosing hope over survival when she lets go of Eren and saves humanity instead. I love the “Stay with Me” line and think it’s perfect; a simple but profound display of trust and their deep-rooted bond in a really understated way. *end manga spoilers*

Here's something I always wanted to talk about in full but haven't. It honestly reads to me like Yams was building toward rivamika, and didn’t do anything to stop that until too late. There are tools authors can use to ensure we stop shipping a pair or start shipping a new one; love triangles are commonly used in every artistic medium and we’ve all been persuaded by these tools. But Yams didn’t use these tools to make sure readers didn’t feel convinced by rivamika. For all the reasons I listed above, more I'm forgetting, and for the following:

If he wanted us to think they were family and it would be incest, he should have added in a conversation between them realizing they were (close) family and that they weren't the only ones left in their biological family like they thought. But he didn't.

If he wanted us to think it was completely inappropriate between a child-and-adult and student-and-teacher, then he could have done something to ensure Mikasa looked childish or Levi looked older, but no. They barely look ten years apart. I do think it's unacceptable and that there's a power imbalance between a child-and-adult relationship regardless of that, and that there can't be true consent when one is a superior and another a subordinate, so I personally age-up Mikasa in my head and try to handle his position of power responsibly in my writings... but the point being, by the end of canon, there's no inappropriate or non-consensual romance between them, yet there's a lot of history and chemistry that could naturally lead to an age-appropriate and consensual relationship. If Yams didn't want us to think so, he could have made it more clear that there were reasons it wouldn't happen.

The only thing that makes sense to me is the author planned on rivamika endgame but was shamed/pressured out of it (either internally or due to others) OR that the author somehow accidentally created such vibrant chemistry and an incredible dynamic between them. Like, he didn't put enough convincing substance of eremika in, didn't make Levi look old enough, didn’t have one of them do something unforgivable in the other’s eyes, etc. Those are some of those tools he could have used. Romance was never a key component in snk. And since we now know Yams planned or needed eremika endgame for sake of plot and the conclusion of the manga, I personally think he didn't know what to do with the riveting rivamika substance and chemistry being much more convincing to readers. Once he had them so well built-up, maybe the only option he felt he had was to just stop putting the characters together. We get little-to-no rivamika interaction, platonic or practical, after season 3 all the way up until the very end. But there was so much of it beforehand ?? So, it simply doesn't make sense. I think the author just straight-up cut any and all interactions out between them because it was too convincing and moving, more convincing and substantial than eremika. But, as the end of canon shows, we needed to have some eremika buy-in. It's messy writing and unskilled in the romance department, but considering for how long and how complicated snk has been in a creative process and how lackluster the eremika romance (the main and apparently pivotal romance) is developed, I think it’s plausible to say the author effed up.

As far as writing fanfiction goes, there's just so much room to explore them. In canon, we aren't given enough insight into their individual perspectives, let alone their dynamic together, so it feels like a blank canvas to work from. I think that's part of why I love to write them, and also why I don't necessarily read much of them. When I first started shipping them while watching the anime, I read a few of the classics that were canon-verse, but I haven’t really read much since. For me, exploring and discovering them as a writer is the most fun. (It's one of the reasons Naruto and Harry Potter have such large fanfiction collections. There's so much world-building and so many characters, but there's also so much left to the imagination.)

In general, I'm drawn to strong characters, especially women, who are multidimensional enough to be real, vulnerable and soft. Mikasa is the pinnacle of that. I don’t necessarily like to write about her love or infatuation with Eren, but I do respect and admire and consider it integral to her character and her amazing capacity to love. We can have strong, kickass women who falter when it comes to love but are still considered strong for it. The two don’t have to be mutually exclusive and Mikasa is a beautiful example of that.

And Levi is strong, but real and vulnerable too; he’s honestly a fantastically developed character, from Petra explaining to Eren in the beginning how he’s not the amazing hero he’s painted to be to the public, to how Levi genuinely cares for Erwin and others and chooses hope despite all he’s suffered.

The end of the manga wrecked me a bit. Kind of like Games of Thrones. You have something that was so epic and well-done for so long, a rushed ending that isn't immediately sensical and isn't fulfilling is hard to stomach. Eventually, I'll move on from the denial of that and process what I think and feel about it. The whole reason we have fanfiction is to expand on canon, but it's made me put rivamika on the back burner until I figure it out. So I'm a little less hyper-fixated on the pairing right now even though interacting with you all and asks like this remind me what brought me here in the first place. 😊

To conclude, I’ll share that the very first rivamika content I wrote was a compilation of moments I thought could be inserted into season 3. These are still moments I plan to edit and publish one day. For anyone that actually read this far, I’ll put a rough and unedited excerpt of the first scene I ever wrote about them.

Thank you again anon 🖤😊

BEGIN EXCERPT [after the rooftop fight for the serum, immediately following the ceremony where Eren touched Historia by kissing her hand]:

Part of her was embarrassed at such a flagrant act of disobedience to a superior, especially to one who saved her and countless others' lives in the past. But mostly, she was anguished by the situation Captain Levi put her in once he revoked the serum meant to save Armin and planned to use it on Commander Erwin instead. Her current ostracization and self-loathing was not entirely her own fault. Anger she felt toward herself was just as easy to wield against him.

It must have shown in the grit of her teeth or defiant tone, because he turned to look at her, more aloof than curious.

Like a flint struck to steel, it ignited the fury she felt toward him.

“I shouldn’t have hesitated. I should have just killed you,” she answered him at last, piercing him with eyes darker than the night.

He wasn’t concerned. “You’re good, but not that good.”

Her hands fell to her side, fists clenched as she stood with a single, fluid movement. Before she could let loose a threat, he sighed.

“What’s the problem, Ackerman?” He was dismissive, his shoulders relaxed and posture loose.

The fire too furious to contain, she went sailing for him with the same speed from the battlefield. Her fingers already curled, she tightened her grasp as she swung her fist into his gods-damned apathetic face.

Levi wasn’t unprepared. He easily side-stepped her, then snatched her wrist to steal her momentum. Though he tried to toss her aside, she was no less fast; Mikasa dug her heel in and spun, her other arm shoving hard into his chest.

Too graceful to stumble, Levi used the chance to hook her second arm too. He caged both her wrists in a grip so strong, she was sure it bruised her bones. Still, he only looked at her warily, almost bored.

“Shouldn’t you be grateful? I chose Armin.” If his reminder was meant to ease her anger, it had the opposite effect.

Fury and desperation gifted her additional strength. She shoved into his chest hard. Levi shifted backward, nearly forced into loosening his grip; within that split second of an opening, Mikasa slammed her elbow into his chin, rocking his head backward.

“You did,” she seethed, but as fast as the fire inside her exploded, it was doused. Her next words came out broken and damp. “But I didn’t.”

Levi remained stern and otherwise unmoving as he attempted to flex his jaw through the spasm of pain. As the momentum of the fight died down, he loosened his hold on her wrists and evaluated her distraught frame.

Mikasa immediately released her own hands and turned away from him, eyes stinging from tears she refused to shed as she focused on the stars ahead. Admitting the harsh words aloud hurt her far more than any injury she could inflict onto him.

Not only was Armin one of the only friends she had, but he’d been a steadfast one throughout almost all she could remember of her life. After the trauma of her childhood, it was Eren and Armin who embraced her, whom she learned to love. Now, though, there was a wedge between her and Armin she was not sure could ever be removed. What was worse, as deplorable and selfish as she knew it proved her to be, was the painful wedge it now put between her and Eren too.

Once again, she found Levi standing at the peripheral of her sight, close enough to see but far enough to be a blur at the edge of her watery vision.

“You almost killed me.” Levi repeated his earlier words, but he said them with an odd bite, torn between frustration and patience. “You would have killed me to save him.”

Too late, Mikasa realized he hadn’t meant these words as an accusation, but an odd form of validation. She bit her bottom lip, teeth puncturing too hard; the tang of metal was sharp on her tongue when she swallowed blood.

“You thought about letting your closest friend die,” Levi said quietly, tiredly. “But I did let mine die. I left him for dead, when I could have saved him.”

Mikasa was startled from her selfish reverie, for the first time acknowledging the sacrifice he made on that fateful afternoon. She’d been too absorbed in her own relief, and then, her own regrets to consider what the decision had done to him.

For a brief moment, she considered turning to face him, but the stark reality of the matter made her refrain. How could she feel pity for his loss, when his loss enabled her gain? An uncomfortable knot tightened in her stomach.

“Tch,” Levi sighed. He was only one notch less taciturn, but for him, that was soft. “You’ll live with your guilt, and I’ll live with mine.”

His words granted Mikasa’s tears the permission to spill. She buried her face further into her scarf, both hands trembling at the worn threads. As quietly as he arrived onto the roof, Levi disappeared from it.

.

.

It was rare for him to indulge in alcohol or celebrations, but Erwin’s absence felt more tangible than his presence ever did. Levi distracted himself with the chaos of the few remaining Scouts that Erwin had died entrusting his legacy to, and attempted to drown the pain with whatever drink Connie Springer shoved into his hands.

He found Hanji with their ale long-forgotten about on the table as they half-stood from their seat, frantic while explaining some morbid experiment in great, vivid detail to an unsuspecting and slightly horrified MP officer.

Though Levi wordlessly took the seat beside them, Hanji paused their rant to slap him hard on the back, an enthusiastic greeting flying from their drunken lips. The MP took this chance to excuse himself, a pathetic attempt at politeness, but Hanji either didn’t care or didn’t notice.

“Ah, Levi,” they smiled at his drink, though it didn’t entirely reach their one eye. “Where you been?”

Levi didn’t answer. “You know, shitty-glasses, you’re even more unbearable about your experiments when you’re drunk.”

Hanji waved dismissively and reached for their ale. Years spent in battle and command together had gifted both of them with an eased familiarity, and sometimes, genuine friendship. In the same manner he ignored their question, Hanji ignored his lack of response and went on with their original inquiry.

“Careful, Captain,” Hanji warned lightly. “Now that there’s far fewer Scouts, you having a favorite might cause some division.”

Even though Hanji meant the words, there was a glint of mischief that twinkled in their remaining eye.

“It’s not favoritism,” Levi countered bluntly, turning his vision toward the young man on the far side of the room. “Eren is simply the best chance that we have in this war.”

Hanji laughed as if he’d made a joke and Levi looked back to stare at them, unable to be surprised at their quirks or oddities any longer, but still a touch curious about what spurned this current demonstration.

“I wasn’t talking about Eren,” Hanji said at last, a pointed nod toward his injured chin.

Levi blinked. He didn’t realize he was nursing his injury with the hand not on his drink. As though it were too hot to touch, Levi dropped his hand.

Hanji was not judgmental, nor inquisitive. In a war-torn life of losing too many cadets entrusted to him, the fact that Levi found a soldier with the strength and skill to remain safe was not only rare, but worth special attention. Still, it made him too lenient.

“Sometimes I think you’d let her get away with murder,” Hanji chided halfheartedly.

When he thought of Erwin dead in his grasp, sometimes he wasn’t sure if he already had.

[ccborrega]

What's wrong with the Twilight Princess manga? (Genuinely curious because I often hear it's good)

No, I mean, it's good! What I've read isn't really terrible (And take in account that because they aren't selling it here just yet, I've only read what I've been able to find online.) This is most likely about me putting something in the tags about how most fans ignore it, referring specifically to Link's backstory, but like...Bruh I'm biased, don't pay mind to my rambles XD

...

*rambles anyway.

I mean, it IS good. I like it enough that I want to buy the whole thing once it's completed, available in my country (In english because the spanish names are a fucking joke) and have enough money that I don't regret buying like 12 tomes that are like 120 pesos each. It brought some ideas that are gold, such as Luda and Shad coming with Link in the adventure for a short time, Midna helping Link beat the Gorons in sumo (Though it does sacrifice one of the most hilarious parts of lore of the game.) and the questionability of Hyrule's attitude towards anything that isn't 'Pure' or 'Bright'. I just disagree with a lot of the choices made in it.

Link's backstory. I had thought it to be a matter of personal taste at first, where I saw him as someone who maybe came from outside but grew in Ordon and was just getting stupidly offended over differing opinions, but as it turns out I just didn't remember why I'd had that idea for years now. Ilia mentions having been kids together with Link, and hilarious as the thought that she's referring to one year prior to events in the game is, it most likely means he's been there for years. Honestly? My impression is they wanted Link to not have too deep a tie to Ordon for whatever reason, and I Hate That. I'm certain I'm not the only one to say 'That's bullshit' and just go with something else there, which is why I say most of us ignore it anyway.

They highkey stole an arc from Hyrule Warrior Legends. Though tbf they also put a very blatant 'Empire Strikes back' moment in there and as much as it annoyed me... it was pretty cool. Still, this is the one game where Shadow Link had no business to be and they put it in there for an entire fucking arc.

Twilight Princess' cast is fucking HUGE why on Hylia's green earth are you putting OCs in there??? It's not even like they're filling a role no one else could have had! They've done it before in their previous Zelda works, and other manga adaptations have as well, but I like most of them because they had something to bring to the table (Even if it was romantic drama, in Ganthy's case.) here it's little to nothing they can contribute with that couldn't have been done by putting an already existing character there. It may be my theatre brain speaking but it bothers me when you have a huge cast and do NOTHING with it and instead bring out another character out of NOWHERE to get things done. Just use what's already there, damn you!

Zelda and Midna's backstory. Hear me out... I love it... but it doesn't work. I've spoken before about how much it annoyed me when the narrative had Zelda and Link respectively blame themselves for the invasion (Even though the guy invading is RIGHT THERE???!?!) for having 'Touched' the dark and made it so it could invade their world, and that's part of it. The other is: Having Zelda sacrifice for Midna not because it was the right thing to do, not because it's the one thing she can do for her people, for the Twili, for Link and Midna herself, and instead making it 'You're my childhood inter-dimensional pen pal, I just realized, welp, time to die.' kind of cheapens the impact it had on Midna in the game and what it says about Zelda as a character (We barely get anything on her in the game, but what we do get is powerful.) It's beautiful, but it misses the point completely.

Also Midna just randomly showing up in Link's dreams in her true form is stupid. YEAH, I SAID IT! I get it they're probably thinking 'Well, what's the point in building up anticipation? You know this is what she looks like already.' but one of the reasons the ship is so heart-wrenchingly good is Link knew her inside and out despite her warped shape. In the end, it didn't matter what she looked like so long as it was her. Link fell in love with her gremlin ass transformation AND THAT IS PERFECT OK??? Imagine like if on 'Beauty and the Beast' Belle just randomly kept meeting the prince in dreams, like they're waving a carrot in front of her to get things done with so she can smooch that freaky Habsburg mug. It's fucking awkward! (And it sort of cheapens their actual chemistry, it feels a lot like 'Oh, he has to see she's hot or it wouldn't be believable that he fell in love.' Get outta here with that.)

Shad.

OK, fine, I'll elaborate. Shad has a dialogue in-game about following up on his dad's life work, it is also implied that he's passed away. What does the manga do? Ignore all that and make it so Shad's dad is a 'Serious' investigator who disapproves of his son's interests. 'Shut up dad! It's not a phase dad! You go clean your room, dad!'. Why? No reason. It's not even interesting!

Shad is the friendliest fucking guy ever, rambling to Link about his hyperfixation on first meeting. Calls him 'Old sport' and stuff like that, seemingly befriends him immediately. What'd the manga decide to do with him? They're RIVALSSSS, and snarky to one another because Shad may or may not have a little crush on Ilia. UGH.

Look, you can't be a real Resistance if the members can't even look after themselves, so making Shad kind of a loser (Because he's a nerd. Hahah. Get it? Nerds are losers.) really took the piss out of the Resistance, tbh. Might have been the point, though, seeing how they needed to make space for their OCs in the final battle at Hyrule Castle... and, look, I've said this before but if you need to make a character look horribly bad for no other purpose than making another look more competent, you're not half as good a writer as you think you are. Link didn't need Shad to look pathetic to look more heoric, that's just sad.

Also take one look at that guy and tell me he doesn't drink his respecting women juice every damn morning and sometimes for dinner... well, in the manga, he's apparently kind of a leecher.

Srsly how is he friends with Ashei if he's kind of a leecher, she'd break his fingers.

There's probably more but I really don't want to come off like I'm trying to discourage people from reading it because I'm not! Like I said, it's a good manga! It has some pretty neat battle sequences, it makes Hyrule feel MASSIVE, it has some pretty horrifying moments that make the stakes feel more real, it takes things that are a certain way in the game for the sake of the mechanics and tries to make them more organic (In the specific case of Ilia's memory, it succeeds.) and Akira Himekawa never fails to make Zelda and every female character look gorgeous. It's just not great in terms of being an adaptation, but that's not necessarily a terrible thing, it just depends on taste. Still, specifically where Link's backstory concerns... I think most fans just ignore it because, really, it doesn't make sense.

[abbysfrenchbraid]

Nothing Else Matters

reference picture by @amisthiosintraining​

anonymous said:  Abby + Female reader, but it's Abby the one being f—cked with the strap on (I'm curious on that one)

Well, here you go. Abby and the reader have been hooking up for a while and the reader has managed to get their hands on some toys to make things more interesting. (5k words of SMUT)

content warning for bondage, light degradation and swearing, risk of exposure, ask to tag

Nothing Else Matters

The air in the room was damp and the smell of the sweaty bodies twitching and jumping reached your nostrils as you sat down to watch. You took off your sweater and placed it beside you, scanning the group of people for a familiar face.

There she was, her blonde braid flying as she whirled around, her face red and sweaty, full of concentrated rage. With an angry cry, she backhanded her partner across the face and sent him straight to the ground. She was glorious, muscles glistening in the neon light as she straddled the man on the ground and caught him in a headlock, grunting as she tightened her grip while he thrashed about trying to free himself. You could see her bicep flexing against his throat and his eyes widening at the sensation. 

Finally, he tapped her underarm two times and she let go immediately, rolling off of him and laying on the ground next to him, arms and legs spread wide. The man with hazel hair and a short beard was half-coughing, half-laughing and clutching his throat while the other soldiers ignored the pair and kept training.

“Jesus Christ Abby, do you want to kill me?”

She huffed and sat up, giving him a pat on the thigh.

“You deserved it, always skipping combat training to fool around with Mel.”

“Oh, so that’s the reason you’re so angry! You’re jealous,” he laughed and immediately put his arms up in defense before she could slap him, but she only leaned back on her arms and shrugged. When she looked up, she caught your gaze and you almost believed she had known you were there all along. The look only lasted a moment, then she smiled back at Owen.

“I’m not, you know that. Why would I waste my time thinking about you when there’s someone a million times hotter than you?”

Owen gasped in feigned shock and sat up as well.

“Better than this beautiful face and these” - he flexed his biceps - “perfectly sculpted muscles?”

Now Abby actually slapped him. He stood up and reached out a hand to help her up.

“Come on, tell me who it is. A soldier?”

The blonde slapped his hand away and got up on her own.

“I’ll tell you if you win this next round. Let’s go!”

She clapped her hands and let him attack, dodging his first few punches with ease before knocking him back into another pair of fighting wolves.

You smiled to yourself and leaned forward to rest your elbows on your knees. As your thoughts drifted elsewhere, the heavy breathing and grunting became white noise and Abby’s arms were the only thing you saw.

Working as a cook, you had often seen her and her friends in the cafeteria, always joking around and making a mess, clearly the popular kids at the base. Abby had been the one to clean up after the boys and apologize for their behavior when they were gone, always making sure to thank your colleagues for their effort and be nice to everyone.

She had noticed you a few weeks ago when you were on your break, sitting alone at a table reading and enjoying the silence in the big hall between mealtimes. The wolf had come over and asked if there were some leftovers for her as she had missed lunchtime for an extra round of training. You had made her some food and kept her company, both of you quickly finding out you got along extremely well and had many shared interests, especially the books you liked to read.

It had gone very fast from there. Secret meetings in empty hallways, sneaking out from work to steal a kiss between the clothing racks, slipping into her room when Manny was away for missions, you always found your way into each other’s arms. While you hadn’t admitted to yourself that it was anything more than just sex, you also spent quite a lot of time just reading or watching movies together, cooking or playing cards and Abby had even shown you some self-defense and wrestling moves that always ended with the two of you naked.

While the wolf was usually very dominant and protective, it was entirely different when you were alone. After you had hooked up the first few times, she had asked you to be rougher with her, leaving you surprised but not at all disinclined.

 You had found out that she actually liked to let go of all control and submit in the safe environment you had created for yourselves. While you had never really been super dominant before, you had quickly learned to enjoy this new role, always coming up with new ideas to make your lover squirm, suffer and cry beneath you.

Today you had something special in mind. Manny was out taking younger soldiers to an outpost for the first time and wouldn’t be back until tomorrow night, so you’d have the room to yourself. 

Your friend Jessie was running a little secret business on the base and you had already purchased a few goods for yourself but never shared them with Abby. Jessie, a trained soldier that wasn’t on active duty because of an injury but still did regular patrol runs to secure the area, had made it her purpose to find all the sex shops in the city and bring back merchandise that was still good to use. Together with her girlfriend who worked in the clothing department, she had started to sell toys, lingerie, and anything of that kind you couldn’t get at the commissary.

You often had coffee with the two of them, referring them to new customers around the stadium and talking about your new sexual adventures. Of course they didn’t know your partner was Isaac’s top soldier, but they gave you a lot of good ideas. Today you had decided it was time to try something more daring. Jessie had shown you how to use the things you had bought and now they were lying in a bag between your feet, drawing your eyes and thoughts toward them and whispering to you about all the things you could do with them.

You were torn from your thoughts by the trainer in the corner clapping loudly.

“Alright guys, dinner’s in half an hour. Good work, I’ll see you on Wednesday. You too, Owen.”

She gave the grinning man a stern look, but he just winked at her and turned around to Abby.

“So, you gonna tell me who you’ve got your eye on?”

“Hell no, you lost three times. Try again next time.” Abby shoved him playfully and walked past him to collect her bag. She emptied half her water bottle in one go and looked up at you before splashing some water on her face. What a tease.

“You coming?” Owen was already at the door.

“I need a minute to talk to someone. I’ll see you at dinner.”

“Alright.” He shrugged and disappeared into the hallway.

The sweaty blonde casually came over to your bench and sat next to you, keeping a few inches between you.

“Did you enjoy the show?” You didn’t look at her but you could tell by her voice she was trying to stifle a grin.

“Oh, I most definitely did. It stopped far too soon though.” You turned your head and let your eyes wander over her freckled shoulders, her neck glistening with sweat and her chest still moving rapidly underneath the tight sports bra. “I was thinking maybe I could get a private encore back at your room.”

Abby suddenly sat up straight and her face seemed to go even more red than it already was. She was still staring at the floor in front of you, tightening her grip around the water bottle and biting her lip. You decided to take a risk and ran your fingertips over her lower back, otherwise completely relaxed and watching the remaining few people in case anyone noticed.

“You fought so well today, baby. What would they say if they knew how you surrender to me with a single word from me? How you’ll beg me to fuck you just for the chance of having my fingers inside of you?”

Abby let out a shaky breath and squirmed on her seat, a mere tilt of her head in your direction telling you she enjoyed this as much as she hated it.

“What would they say if they knew I have a rope inside my bag, waiting for me to tie you up and leave you completely defenseless at my mercy?”

Her knuckles were white from the tension in her hands and she pressed her thighs together.

“Baby…” she gave you a pleading look, “please stop torturing me.”

The last few people were clearing out and the trainer nodded at Abby who just raised a hand in greeting, trying to act normal. As soon as the room was empty you turned to her, grabbed her braid and pulled it down and towards you, her face only an inch from yours as a moan escaped her.

“Are you so needy already, you little slut?” You lightly pinched her breast and she whined, leaning into you and pressing her head against your collarbone.

“Please, please, baby, let’s go back to my room. I’ll do everything you want. I need you.”

You let go of her braid, stood up abruptly and turned to her. Abby immediately grabbed your thighs and pulled you in, pressing her forehead to the seam of your jeans. You put your hands on your hips and sighed.

“I don’t know, maybe we should have dinner first. Also, you need to shower, you’re filthy.”

In reality, Abby being all sweaty and hot made you want to pin her against a wall and lick her clean, but you kept that to yourself for now.

“Please, Y/N. I’ll be good. I can’t wait that long.”

You freed yourself and pulled her up, giving her a peck on the lips.

“You go shower. I’ll wait for you in your room.”

She smiled and quickly grabbed her stuff, stealing another kiss before rushing toward the community showers. Also not a bad place for some secret public action, you thought. Maybe in the early morning when no one was there. You could order the soldier to be quiet as you fucked her senseless and force her to relive the moment every time she took a shower afterward.

You slung the bag over your shoulder and grabbed your sweater, debating if you should make Abby have dinner with you in the cafeteria, teasing her the entire time and forcing her to keep calm in front of everyone while she was dripping wet for you. But you had to admit that you needed her, too. You could always get some leftovers for you later or wait until the morning when you had to work the breakfast shift anyway.

When you arrived at Abby’s room, you quickly looked left and right before entering and then headed straight for her bed. You took the smooth, black rope from your bag and laid it on the bed. Your second surprise could wait until later.

You let your fingers run over the spines of the books on the top bunk, smiling to yourself over the selection of old classics that definitely worked as a form of escapism from this place. Don Quijote, A Thousand and One Nights, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn. Abby didn’t seem like it at first glance, but she was a dreamer, always mentally wandering off and spending her time in other realities, ones where adventures were something you chose to go on. No infected, no sad remnants of what the world had once been, but beautiful landscapes, interesting strangers, and the joy of being alone but never lonely, wandering but at home anywhere in the world.

Her life had never been easy and she had suffered unspeakable pain, but she always found something worth smiling for, worth living for and she loved letting go of all the sadness and harshness and enjoying herself in those short, sweet moments when everything was okay.

Your time together had definitely made her happier than she had been in a long time and you were so, so good at letting her escape this reality and carrying her somewhere else.

The door opened and you snapped out of your reverie, turning around to see a freshly showered Abby come down the stairs to the lower part of the room. She was wearing shorts and a tank top, unintentionally showing off her round shoulders, her breasts, and her thick, hard thighs stretching out the fabric of her shorts as she walked towards you. Her hair was still wet and she had already brushed it, the dark strands falling over her shoulders and framing her beautiful, still slightly flushed face.

“Hey baby,” she murmured and moved in for a kiss. Her lips were incredibly soft, gently brushing against yours and opening slightly for her tongue to touch your upper lip. You grabbed the back of her neck and pulled her in, immediately deepening the kiss, dipping your tongue into her mouth and biting the blonde’s bottom lip. She sighed and fell into you, pushing you towards the bed but you grabbed a fistful of her hair and pulled without too much force, just enough to make her stand straight and look at you with pleading eyes. She knew it wasn’t going to be that easy.

You took a step back and looked her up and down.

“Clothes off.”

Abby’s eyes quickly went to the privacy shield next to her bed that she normally used to get dressed without half the stadium being able to see her naked, but you shook your head and she dropped her gaze, blushing again. You watched her as she pulled up the shirt over her head, revealing her freckled chest, perfectly sculpted abs and hard, dark pink nipples in the center of soft, ivory flesh.

When she ran her thumbs along the waistband of her shorts, she stared at you defiantly but you just held her gaze and smiled. You knew she was probably already dripping wet, secretly liking the risk and humiliation. If anyone were to walk by below you or stare up from afar knowing who’s room they were looking at, they would see the two of you facing each other, one clothed and one completely naked, the tension between you almost flickering in the air.

You stepped aside and pointed towards the bed.

“On the bed, Abigail.”

The wolf shuddered at your use of her full name and you could see goosebumps forming on her arms. She lay down on the bed and you took the rope, very content about her eyes widening at the sight. Before you could say anything she held out her hands, breath catching in her throat.

You wrapped the black rope around her wrists, gently pulling it tight, and tied her hands to the metal rods at the top of the bed. Still having a few meters left, you tied the next knot around Abby’s left ankle, fastening it to the bed frame pressed to the wall and doing the same to the other foot, spreading her legs and pinning them in place.

You crouched down next to her head, brushing a strand of hair out of her face and cupping her cheek with your hand.

“I know this is new for you and I promise you, I’ll never do anything you don’t want. Just say the safeword and I’ll stop.”

The blonde nodded, squirming in her restraints.

“Abby, I need to hear you say it.”

“I’m okay. I’ll let you know if something is wrong. Now can you please fucking touch me already?” She bucked her hips up and tried to pull down her hands to touch you, grunting in frustration when the rope didn’t let her move an inch.

You reached out and ran your fingertips over her collarbone, her chest and down over her stomach, stopping right above the curls between her legs. She tried to press her legs together to get some form of friction but and whined when she couldn’t, but you just let your fingers wander further down her leg and up the other, caressing the inside of her thigh. When your fingers came closer to her sex, her breathing got faster and she stopped moving, hoping you would grant her a touch now that she was good.

Watching her face, you ran a finger along her hot folds, immediately coating your fingertip in her juices. She gasped when you stopped to draw small circles around her clit.

“So wet already? God, you just love being completely in my power.”

You dipped your finger in the pooling wetness, holding back for just a moment longer. Abby was already a mess beneath you, her legs twitching and her back arching in response to your teasing. You suddenly pulled your hand away and her eyes flew open to stare at you with a mixture of frustration and pleading.

“What if I just let you lie there while I get myself off over here? Make you watch without being able to do anything about it while you lie in your own juices? Take you to dinner after while you’re all needy and soaked?”

Abby’s mouth twisted into a pout and she looked like she was about to cry.

“Please, Y/N, please touch me. I can’t take it any longer. Please?” The last word was a whine and you decided to stop being cruel.

With one swift motion, you pushed two fingers all the way inside her. The blonde cried out and immediately pushed back against your hand, craving more. You slowly pulled your fingers back out and made sure to catch her gaze as you put them in your mouth and licked them clean.

“Such a sweet girl.”

Her eyes were full of longing when she accepted your fingers into her mouth, sucking on them as she looked up at you. You moved your hand downwards again, pushing your fingers inside her much slower this time and pulling them out again, beginning to stroke her in a slow rhythm.

With your other hand, you squeezed her breast and trailed your fingers over her nipples before running your fingers along the delicate skin of her jaw and throat.

You picked up the pace, fucking Abby harder while her whining got louder. Curving your fingers upwards and letting them flutter against that tender spot inside her, you heard her breath stop for a second before she let out a high pitched moan. You didn’t give her time to catch her breath, now hitting her in all the right spots, your fingers thrusting deep inside her and your thumb on that sweet, pulsing nub that had patiently waited for its turn.

It was wonderful, watching the small muscles on her stomach contract and her broad thighs pull on the restraints as she got closer and closer. Her whole body was tensing up and her moans got faster and higher until she cried out “I’m gonna cum, can I please cum!” and you immediately pulled your hand away.

She almost screamed in frustration.

“Baby, please, I’m so close!”

You slowly drew your digit along her bottom lip.

“Only if you ask me nicely. No cumming without my permission.”

She licked the tip of your finger and looked up at you.

“I promise I’ll be good, please.”

You lightly scratched her stomach on the way down and she trembled at the sensation. This time you lightly placed two fingers on her clit and started rubbing it in slow circles, never losing your pace as your lover’s moans got louder again. As soon as she asked if she could cum, you stopped moving but left your hand in place, keeping her dangerously close to the edge and to the possibility of a ruined orgasm.

The wolf was now actively fighting her restraints, pulling her hands downwards and trying to get loose but you had known what you were doing and the knots didn’t budge. Some strands of hair had fallen into her face, a thin coat of sweat was glistening on her forehead and between her breasts. She was a mess.

“Baby, please, please, I’m begging you. Please let me cum.”

You slid a finger inside her again, brushing against her g-spot as you gently put your other hand on her lower stomach and pressed down. She arched beneath you, pushing her hips into your touch and letting out a much deeper, almost animalistic groan. You took your time driving her closer and closer to that sweet high and waited for her to ask again, knowing she was scared to lose your fingers again but also not wanting to be punished for not asking permission.

Finally, she couldn’t wait any longer. “Can I please cum, please, please, oh god -”

The words fell from her lips just as you pressed the pad of your thumb to her clit.

“Cum for me, baby.”

You were out of breath, pressing your thighs together to soothe the ache that had been growing between your legs. Suddenly the wolf beneath you cried out, her entire body twitching and convulsing around your fingers as you carried her through her orgasm. When she finally stopped moving, the room was filled with the sound of both of you panting and the smell of sex, sweat and heat had spread in every corner.

Slowly, you pulled your fingers from the blonde’s body and got up. She was still disoriented and gave you a confused look as you bent down to pick up your bag.

“You gonna cut me loose here?”

You didn’t reply, instead choosing to pull your shirt over your head and take off your pants and ignoring your lover’s squirming.

“I got something else for you. I know I already make you scream with the touch of a single finger, but I think it’s time I gave you something bigger.”

Her eyes widened as you pulled a harness and a small package out of the bag. Sitting down next to her, you opened the carton and pulled out a black silicone dildo. Abby visibly shifted next to you and pressed her lips together, unwilling to give away her thoughts. As if she had any chance of hiding from you how much she wanted you to fuck her senseless, to make her see stars and completely destroy her.

You turned to her. “I need you to tell me what you want. We can do this another time or not at all. I’m all ears.”

You knew exactly what you were doing. While being an absolute service top, it was also extremely fun to watch Abby blush and stammer trying to pluck up the courage to tell you what she wanted. She was always so shy and embarrassed about wanting to be dominated, so you had made it your little game to force her to admit it.

“You can do whatever you want with me, baby.”

“Oh Abs, you know you don’t get it that easily. What do you want me to do with it?”

She tried to avoid your gaze.

“You could fuck me with it?” she mumbled.

“I didn’t hear you. Speak up.” Oh, this was so much fun.

“Fuck you! You heard me right, you’re just teasing me.”

You slapped her breast and she sucked in a sharp breath.

“You don’t speak that way to me, you little whore. Don’t think I haven’t noticed how you’ve been eyeing that dick. You want me to fucking ruin you and you’re too cowardly to say it. How disappointing.”

With a theatrical sigh, you got up and took a few steps towards your clothes on the stairs.

“Wait, baby, please. I’m sorry. Please.”

You turned on your heel and stared at her, lifting a brow.

“Come here, please. I want you to fuck me. Fuck me until I can’t do anything but scream your name. Please, baby.”

Satisfied, you stepped into the loops of the harness and put the dildo through the metal ring, pulling everything tight as you felt Abby’s eyes roaming over you. Then you were next to her and started untying her feet. On second thought, you loosened the rope around her wrists as well.

“I’m not making this easy for you by tying you up. Your hands stay at the head of the bed. If you touch me, I’ll stop. If you behave, I’ll think about letting you cum a second time.”

The fear in Abby’s eyes was exhilarating. She nodded.

“Am I allowed to make noise?”

You thought about it for a second, then you agreed. This was the first time with a strap on, it would surely be hard enough to keep her hands still.

Checking to see if you’d need more lubrication, you inserted a finger into her - she was dripping wet.

“Pathetic.”

Before she could respond, you spat into your hand and coated the dildo in it. The wolf audibly swallowed at the sight. You knelt between her legs, rubbing your hand over her abs and breasts and mixing your saliva with her sweat. Goosebumps grew on her freckled skin.

Slowly, you lined yourself up with her throbbing cunt and started pushing into her. When you were all the way in, you stopped for a moment so Abby could adjust to the size. You slowly ran a hand up her body again and wrapped your fingers around her throat.

“I want to hear you.”

She gasped as you pulled out just a tiny bit and thrust back into her.

“Fuck me, please. I can take it. Fuck me hard.”

Without taking your hand off her, you pulled all the way out and watched her face as you pushed back into her with deep, hard strokes. She melted in your fingers. Her expression was a mixture of surprise, lust, satisfaction, a little bit of pain and an ever-growing hunger.

“Faster, baby,” she whined, her hands twitching towards your face for a moment before she stopped herself and pushed her hips up against you instead.

Deciding the wolf had begged enough, you straightened up and started picking up a faster pace. She started moaning, arching her back and pressing her hands against the metal bed frame. Going faster and faster, you savored every second of seeing her writhe beneath you, hearing the slaps of your skin against hers and the delightfully obscene wet noises her cunt made as it swallowed every thrust.

The strap on and the leather front of the harness worked just right in putting pressure on your clit, your breathing getting harder from effort and arousal at the same time. With one swift motion, you grabbed Abby’s ankles and pulled them up on your shoulders to get a deeper angle.

She let out a deep, coarse moan coming from deep within her and her eyelids flew open. Giving her a devilish smile, you folded your arms around her legs and began slamming your hips into her, your groans falling into the rhythm of Abby’s cries. Her biceps flexed deliciously as she pulled on the bed frame and threw her head back in ecstasy, a steady flow of curses streaming from her mouth.

Losing strength in your arms, you let go of her legs and they fell to your sides as you dropped forward onto your lover’s chest, keeping a steady pace. The friction to your own core was much stronger now and you felt yourself getting close to the peak.

“Touch me, now!” you commanded and her arms flew down and closed around your back, holding you close while digging her nails into your skin. She dragged them down as you fucked her harder, leaving burning streaks on your shoulder blades. Her legs also closed around your hips, amplifying your thrusts into her as you grabbed a fistful of her hair and made her scream out in pain and pleasure. You wanted her to cum with you, to ride this high together.

“Baby, I’m so close.” Finally.

“Come for me, Abby.” You sank your teeth into her throat and tightened your grip in her hair, grinding into her with all your strength until you both started crying out each other’s names, scratching and grabbing at each other’s bodies as waves of pleasure rushed over you and made you twitch and shake.

Still inside her, you lay on Abby’s chest, both of you coated in sweat, spit and each other’s juices. She ran a hand through your hair and drew the pad of her thumb over the red marks on your back.

“Oh Y/N, what are you doing to me?”

You reached back a hand to loosen the straps of the harness and lifted your head to look at the flustered blonde. Slowly, you pulled out of her and enjoyed the almost unnoticeable twitches of her face, small echoes of the sensations she had felt minutes before. The strap on fell to the floor with a heavy thud and you both had to laugh at the sound.

Abby sighed and pulled you closer.

“I think every single person on the base either saw or heard us. Or both.”

You buried your face between her breasts and soaked in her wonderful musk before licking a line all the way up to her earlobe.

“Do you care?”

She laughed again, her chest vibrating against yours.

“Not really, no. When I have you, nothing else matters.”

You both paused for a second, letting that sentence sink in. Carefully, you placed a soft kiss to her lips and she deepened it, caressing your tongue with hers and gently biting your bottom lip.

You would have to have this conversation sometime soon. But right now, it was enough to feel the deep, intense connection between you as you nestled your face in the crook of your lover’s neck and she pulled a sheet over both of you, enjoying this moment together without thinking of anything else, especially not the future.

When you were together, nothing else mattered.

-

Author’s note: Thank you for reading, feel free to tell me what you thought 💌 if you’d like, you can support me by buying me a coffee 💛

[adaodinson]

Starsco

I don’t know where this came from, it’s quite weird, but I liked it, I hope you do too.

Oh and a small side note, the 5 songs that I mention, I really do recommend you to hear them if you haven’t.

English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Feedback is appreciated :)

Summary: You start working for Bucky. An important event comes but someone messes up and you have to do something about it.

Warnings: Swearing.

Relationship: Company director!Bucky x female!reader

You´re heart dropped at the sound of your phone announcing that you had received an email. You had been like this the whole day waiting for that damned answer on the job you had applied for. You were insanely nervous. Even though you were only starting in the industry, the Starsco company was a pretty good place to begin at.

You had always been good with words, you were great at convincing people of selling things, of buying things, of doing things, etc. You were a natural (which was quite ironic sine you sere socially shy and awkward) and you knew it. You had wanted to make a living out of getting and selling strange things. Sure, it sounded weird, but, isn´t weird always interesting?

It had all started a month ago, when you told your aunt you needed her help. You had found a vacancy in a company called Starsco that basically, took care of finding the weirdest things other companies might need that couldn´t easily be found or bought in big amounts. The job was everything you wanted. The company was run by James Barnes, a successful businessman that was known for being a quite unique boss, and an amazing and talented person. You had worked with your aunt for the past few years, but when you told her about the job she immediately used her contacts to get you an interview, and before you knew it, that had passed and all you could do now was wait.

And this was it, this was the moment you would know if you were gonna start working for such a company and such a person in the business you had wanted for so many years. You opened your phone without looking at the content of the email, you then slowly lowered your fingers as you read line by line until you got there.

-YES- you yelled and jumped around like a maniac through your apartment. You got it, you were starting in three days, on Monday. WOOOHOOOOO hell yeah.

After telling your aunt about the news the weekend flew by, and in the blink of an eye you were walking through the crowded streets of New York headed to the building you had only seen once for your interview. You weren´t one to lie to yourself, you were fucking terrified. You had met Nat and Clint at your interview, they were important workers at the company, and seemed quite serious at first, focusing on the “at first”. You got along with them just fine. Even though you had all been insanely professional during the interview, when it finished, they let out a bit of themselves as regular people, and you got to like them since then. You hadn´t met your boss, though, and that was your main concern.

You pushed through the huge main doors and led your feet through the crowded and busy main entrance. You spotted Nat as soon as you got to the first floor, and she headed straight to you right away. She was wearing a beautiful black suit with a white blouse underneath, and you were wearing a dark blue one with a gray blouse under it. She smiled widely at you, and you returned her the smile.

-Hey, how are you? Are you nervous?- She asked happily, with a hint of playfulness in her tone.

-Hey, I´m good thanks, and yes of course I´m nervous. How are you?- You replied honestly.

-I´m good, and happy to see you here- You smiled at that even more.

She gave you a tour of the places in the building you didn´t know, and then led you to your desk that was placed in a huge room with beige walls. It was pretty big and seemed quite comfortable. It had a computer and office supplies.

On the other side of the room there was a big window with two desks in front of it. On them there were two people already standing up to say hi to you.

-Hey, I´m Wanda and this is Thor- Wanda was gorgeous, just like Nat. She had bright orange hair and was wearing a dark red blouse with a lighter red pencil skirt. Thor was a huge (insanely handsome) guy, with blonde hair and a big smile. He was wearing a black suit with a red tie.

-Hi, I´m Y/N, I guess I´ll be working with you now- You said happily and shook both of their hands. They seemed nice, like, really nice. Nat had told you about them, or specifically, she told you about everyone in the company that she got along with and that she knew you would too.

Nat left after saying goodbye, and Wanda and Thor explained more of what you would be doing; you would basically take care of making meetings and gatherings possible by having every person that was needed present, and you needed to get whatever your boss asked you to get, as weird or difficult as it sounded. That was, of course, hard as hell, because it meant dealing with weird ass people, but as always, that was your area of expertise. This was what you signed up for, and you were really good with words, that was your “ability”, and that´s why you had been hired. You were excited, it sounded really interesting.

Wanda told you Mr. Barnes was at a meeting, but he had made himself a little space to meet you, and that would happen in exactly an hour. You started settling in your desk, glancing up at the clock that hung in front of the door to your left (door that led to Mr. Barnes´ office).

Before you knew, the door to the left had been open, letting a crowd of men and women out, and finally showing your boss. Jesus fucking Christ. You knew about his reputation of being one of a kind, but damn, he was the most freaking beautiful man you had EVER seen, even more than Thor. Fortunately, you knew how to keep your composure around attractive people, you had since your interview with Nat.

-Ms.Y/N, hello, I´m James Barnes- he said with a smile that adorned those perfect deep blue eyes of his. And dear God, didn´t your name sound beautiful coming from his mouth. You took the hand he had just offered you.

-Hello Mr.Barnes, thank you for giving me this opportunity- You said while shaking his strong hand that happened to be huge compared to yours.

-Oh no, I´m thanking you, you have an amazing resume, it´s pretty clear you know your way through words- Damn it, this man is so charming, this is ridiculous.

-Well, if I have a skill I´ll use it- You answered, realizing either of you had let go of the handshake. You let go of his hand slowly, trying to not make him uncomfortable, and it worked. He just retreated his hand.

-Mmhh I like you already, doll- you couldn’t help the smile and small giggle that came out of you at his words. And well, the nickname, God the nickname. At first you thought that´s how he referred to all women, but you would soon learn he called everyone by their last names, except for Wanda and Nat (he referred to them by their first names), and you, you were “doll”- I´m sure Wanda and Thor already told you were to start-.

-They did indeed- You answered.

-Okay, then I´ll head back to my office, I´ll use the communicator if I need you, okay?-

-Okay- You smiled widely and watched him walk back to his office and close the door behind him. You headed to your desk, to start with your work, not noticing the confused looks Thor and Wanda were exchanging after the curious interaction they had just witnessed. But they weren´t gonna mention it until they were sure it had been what they thought.

Your job was just as hard and challenging as you had expected, but you loved it. You got to talk to the strangest people ever and go to the weirdest places with a bunch of security people just to protect you. You sure as hell wouldn´t have done any of that at another job.

Three months had passed, and you already loved everyone that worked with you. You were becoming close with almost everybody: Nat, Clint, Wanda, Thor, Pietro, Bruce, Tony, Sam, etc. Nat, Wanda and Sam were your closest friends so far. You also got along amazingly with your boss. You two already even had inside jokes, always spoke to each other with a playful tone and were quite touchy. The thing was either of you seemed to notice. You two were always brushing shoulders when walking together, he played with your hands when you were casually talking (you were already used to the feeling of his metal arm, and you seemed to be the only one he trusted to touch it and be touched by it), and both of you laughed like crazy when you were together, even if you were supposed to be professional (except, of course, when you were in front of people from outside the company, but that seemed to be the only time you didn´t look like a couple of idiots).

He called you doll and occasionally by your first name, and of course you called him Mr. Barnes: But one time you had seen him at a company event he casually asked you to call him Bucky, but it just felt wrong, so you kept the professional name.

You were working on getting 384 kilos of carbon (no, you had no idea why and you weren´t sure you wanted to know) when your boss appeared and called Wanda, Thor and you into his office. You shared looks since it was weird for him to ask all three of you in at the same time.

-What can we do for you boss?- You asked with the playful tone you and Bucky (yes, in your mind you did call him Bucky) often used when you talked. He smiled widely, but a hint of tiredness adorned his face.

-Well, I need the three of you working on an event that we are having next week. I need you to make sure everyone that is needed there will attend. This is a really important meeting, and it´s not any type of event, this could be a game-changer for the company, it has to be perfect. Someone really important is attending so I need you there to make sure everything that he wants he gets. It´s Ronald Lazo and I trust you to get what he asks for. He is known for only attending meetings that have a singer singing five specific songs, I´ll give you Thor the details and I need you to get that. He only drinks some weird kind of rum that I need you Wanda to get, and Y/N, I need you at the event to check that everything is working and that he´s getting what he needs. You guys can postpone what you´re currently working on except for the Cryt check and get these things done. Thor and Wanda, thank you, you guys are excused, Y/N I need you to stay-.

All three of you nodded and your workmates left the office. Once they closed the door, Bucky stood up from his desk and walked toward you.

-Listen, I only trust you in case something has to be done at the last minute because you have proven to be capable of doing so at emergencies, so I need you to finish the last thing I requested and then make sure this place- he said handing you a paper- will be available on Tuesday next week. That´s all I need you to do these few days because you´ll be at the event on Tuesday since 5pm to check and supervise that everything works-.

You didn´t even notice when he got closer to you, but you could smell his scent (a strange but nice mixture of metal, wood and cologne) as he spoke.

-And another essential thing I need to ask. On that day I need you to stay away from anyone that is not from the company. Stay really close to me, I´ll let you know what the guy wants, what I need you to get, but please stay away from him. I´m asking you this as hopefully your friend, not as your boss. This mas is known for easily losing his shit. I know you can take excellent care of yourself, but this guy is a whole different story. Please stay safe-.

-We are friends- you answered, truthfully- and I will stay close to you, I´ll stay safe. And of course I´ll do my work as you ask, everything that is needed- You said with a reassuring tone, as he did seem worried. Your heart flipped at the thought of him considering you his friend and caring this much for you.

-Perfect- He said as he walked back to his desk, as his worried tone disappeared, almost as if he had reset. You just nodded and waited for him to nod back. When he did, you took that as your sign to go out, back to your desk and get to work.

Tuesday came by in a flash. You woke up with a knot in your stomach, but you were kind of excited. It was 4pm, so you had to rush to get ready.

Bucky had told you to dress fancy but simple, so you went for a black dress that had a lose skirt that reached your knees and a beautiful top with sleeves that showed your shoulders but covered part of your upper arms. You choose a pair of black ankle boots that were easy to walk with, but that fitted the dress perfectly. You took one final look on the mirror and since you liked how you looked, you went to your bathroom to put your make up on. After you were happy with it you took your keys and purse and headed towards the place.

After parking your car you headed to the garden (the event would be at one), and you thanked your past self again for your choice of shoes. You walked toward the table where the people you knew were. You said hi to Sam, Clint, Bruce and Nat (the ones that were attending) and went to look for your boss to let him know you had arrived.

You just couldn´t get used to how handsome he was, it was impossible. He was wearing an all-black suit with a turtleneck and you felt your knees literally shake as you walked. He turned to you in response to the person that he was talking to looking stunned by you. I mean, I know I look good but that was weird. That was your thought until your boss looked at you. His eyes widened and he stood completely still. The only part of him that was moving were his eyes, as they seemed to be exploring you. You were fucking dying. He was checking you out and you were about to faint, so you decided to smooth the tension with a joke before you passed out at how he was looking at you.

-See something you like, boss?- You asked quietly enough for him to be the only one to listen. He bit his lip. Oh you´re not fucking helping. And he giggled.

-Wow, you do look amazing, doll- he stated. You felt yourself blushing like hell, but come on, he had to be more embarrassed than you at this point.

-Thank you, you look quite handsome yourself- That seemed to take him by surprise, but he then smiled and thanked you as well. He introduced you to the people around and informed you Mr. Lazo hadn´t arrived, but that he was counting on the singer that had been requested to have arrived already since it was the first part of the event, so he asked you to call Thor for him to tell you who and where she was.

As you started walking away, still laughing to yourself at what had just happened, you heard your phone ringing. It was Thor. How convenient.

-Hey Thor, how ar-

-Y/N, shit, I need your help- He said with a terrified tone. You had never heard him swear so you knew he had either screwed up, or he had been fucking kidnapped.

-My God, what happened?-

-The singer that I hired just cancelled, she found out more about Mr. Lazo and said she´s not coming-

-WHAT?- Okay, that came out way louder than what you wanted.

-Where are we gonna get a singer that knows the specific songs at the last minute?!- You asked, lowering your tone.

-I don´t know, please help me- He was truly desperate, so you agreed to help him.

He told you the songs were: Cry to me by Seal, Missing you by John Waite, I hope I don´t fall in love with you by Tom Waits, December 1963 by Franki Valli and The Four Seasons and Do you really want to hurt me by Culture Club. Okay maybe the guy was weird for always requesting to hear the same five songs at any event he went to, but he surely had a good taste in music, you knew all of them by heart. Although it was ridiculous that he wanted a female singer to sing all male songs.

After agreeing with Thor, you hung up, but the second you turned around, you saw your worst nightmare: Mr. Lazo had arrived, and he was heading to a freaking pale James Barnes that was mouthing you the question “where the hell is she”.

You were dead, Thor was dead, everyone was dead.

Lazo sat down at his place, and shortly everyone imitated him. He was seating next to Bucky that looked like he was about to faint. You had NEVER seen him like that, like ever, before tonight you couldn´t even imagine him getting so nervous.

You knew the songs would lighten up the mode, and that show working out would probably give Bucky the confidence he needed to be himself again, so you sighed, feeling a huge knot on your throat and texted Thor that it had been taken care of.

You never would have done this unless this exact thing was happening: everyone was seated, looking at the empty stage with nervous musicians and your dying boss. It had been at least two years since your last singing class, and even though you knew you were good, you hadn´t sang in front of an audience since you were 18. Lazo was clearly getting impatient, so you rushed to the stage, nodded at a confused Bucky, smiled at the musicians and died internally.

They understood and started playing the first song, and the second the words started getting out of your mouth, you remembered how much you adored singing. No one in the office knew you could sing, so they were all stunned at how beautiful your voice was. But there were two particular people who´s reaction you loved: Nat, that had the proudest face you had ever seen in anybody (she knew about what had happened with Thor), and Bucky´s. His face was lit up in a way that made his eyes and smile shine like diamonds. He seemed lost in you, and you were doing this for him, you sure as hell would make sure he knew that later.

Weeeell, nothing can be sadder than a glass of wine alone.

Loneliness, loneliness is such a waste of time.

Oh yeah, you don´t, you don´t ever have to walk alone, you see.

Come on and take my hand, and baby won´t you walk with me, oh yeah.

Just like that, the first song ended and the crowd applauded at your improvised performance. After seeing Lazo´s happiness with you, Bucky even stood up.

Shortly after, the next song began and you continued singing the five songs until the last one.

You´ve been talking but believe me.

If it´s true you do not know.

This boy loves without a reason.

I´m prepared to let you go.

If it´s love you want from me.

Then take it away.

Everything is not what you see.

And it´s over agaaaaaaain

Eventually the last song ended, and now the whole crowd (including Lazo) stood up, clapping. Your smile was huge, you really couldn’t (nor wanted) to control it. You looked for your boss in the crowd, and when you spotted him, you realized he was pointing at a door. You took that as a sign of him wanting to talk to you, and your overthinking ass managed to worry you and make you believe he could be mad at you.

You went to the place he pointed at, it was a maintenance closet filled with garden tools, but it was pretty big. Shortly after, Bucky found his way inside and before he could say anything, the second he closed the door, you started.

-Listen, Mr. Barnes, I´m so so sorry for having to do that, there was a problem, you see, the singer Thor hired cancelled like 30 minutes ago and everyone was waiting and Lazo was getting impatient and-

You couldn´t finish before you felt two strong arms hugging you and lifting you from the floor. Your reaction was to put your hands on his shoulder as he turned you around in his arms and laughed. You were gonna need a doctor´s appointment after your boss´ action, or you were literally gonna die.

-DON´T, don´t you dare apologizing! That was AMAZING, I didn´t know you could sing, that was impressive, he was so happy, Jesus. Thank you, Y/N- He said as he placed you back down. He looked at you with those deep blue eyes that had you dying for him. You felt like he was stealing your heart and soul only with his eyes, and you couldn´t help but placing your hand on his cheek.

-You don´t need to thank me, it´s my job. I mean, I did it for the company, and for my boss, and for Thor, and for the event. I couldn´t just let everything fall apart before it started, I couldn´t do that especially to you, Bucky-.

-Especially to me, Bucky?- He asked with a smirk. Fuck, fuck, no, what did I just do.

You just stared into his eyes, expecting him not to take much from what you said, but your mind imploded and stopped working the second you felt his lips covering yours. What in the actual fuck is happening? You didn´t let your mind wander in that question for too long, after all, you were KISSING him. Your hands went to nis neck and his grip tightened in your waist. You both split your lips, letting the other´s tongue explore. He was just perfect, you were covered in his scent, in him. You tasted all you could for as long as you could. But then you both remembered you kind of do need to breath.

You two parted slowly and let your foreheads rest together with wide and dumb smiles. At the same time, you both walked a few steps away and he then opened the door for you. He followed closely behind and soon enough, you were lost together in the crowd with your minds still clouded by the other´s presence. The event started great, it could only get better, and what would happen next, well, you were pretty sure it was gonna be awesome.

[honeymoonjin]

𝘱𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨 namjoon x reader ~ 𝘸𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵 18k 

𝘨𝘦𝘯𝘳𝘦 fluff, thriller ~ 𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘴𝘦 crime!au, detective!reader, candle shop owner!knj

𝘴𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺 with a serial killer on the loose that uses artisan scented candles as inspiration for murders, now is not the time to be falling in love with the man who made them.

𝘸𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴 non-explicit descriptions of murders. one incident of injury, and mentions of blood. cursing. while this involves a serial killer and the causes of death are mentioned, there’s no scenes involving actual murders taking place, or crime scenes. extremely long discussions of scented candles because i can’t help myself. make-out scene but no smut.

𝘈/𝘕 dedicated to the darling @mind-of-a-hardstan​. it’s been a pleasure being your secret santa, and from the bottom of my heart i hope you enjoy <3 thank you to my dedicated team of supporters: my beta reader @honey-boyyoongi​, my partner in crime @hobisgorgeousass​, my resident namjoon stan @jamaisjoons​ and finally the first person to read it in all its entirety and my amazing friend @but-kimnamjoonpersona​. you’re all magnificent and i love you.

Kim Namjoon looks guilty.

That much is immediately clear to you, but it’s not the type of guilt from someone who’s done something wrong. More so, it’s the type of guilt you hold for something out of control, the empathy you feel for others. You can see that it tears him up inside that someone this evil and twisted has drawn inspiration from his store.

The police force didn’t know it was a serial killer. At least, not at first. At the beginning, the murders were so far apart that nobody ever thought to connect them. Almost seasonal, there was one in April, another in late August, one in September and, most recently, the middle of November, last weekend.

You were the one who initially noticed something strange. Perhaps it was your bad habit of lumping all your unsolved cases into one pile of failure, but the more you thought about them together, the more you realised something was odd about them.

In each location, there was a single candle, sometimes melted down to the base, sometimes still burning, and the different causes of death seemed to relate pretty directly to the scent or name of the candle.

And all those candles came from one store. Moni’s Candle Shop, the boutique store that exclusively sold handmade candles. The store owned by one Kim Namjoon.

“It’s so awful that all of these are connected, I… I don’t understand why my candles have anything to do with this.”

You smile softly, though your eyes are dancing around the store. “Nobody blames you, Mister Kim. All serial killers like to have a calling card. At the end of the day, they want credit and attention for their crimes, they want to show off what they’ve done. Deep down, they want to get caught, and it’s my job to use these candles as my path to the killer. To make him face justice for what he’s done.”

Namjoon tips his head, dark locks shifting across his brow. “You’re referring to the serial killer as a he. Do you have a suspect?”

Your eyes dart back to him, ducking your head with a rueful smile. “Force of habit, I’m afraid. Statistically, it probably is a male due to the brutality of the murders, though we’re definitely not ruling out a female yet. We...still don’t have any leads, really.” We have jack shit, you think to yourself, no fucking clue. Coughing lightly to clear your throat, you scratch at your collarbone where the freshly cut lanyard of your ID rests. “If you have any in stock, I’d love to get a closer look at those candles, Mister Kim. The ones from the scenes have been taken into the forensics lab for re-inspection so I’m unable to get my hands on them.”

He seems mildly surprised, eyebrows lifting behind thick black frames. “Oh! Of course,” he sits up and sucks in his stomach to wiggle around the edge of the desk, only pausing once he reaches the doorway to the store floor. “Wait. I don’t actually know what scents they were. I think they might have told me, but I don’t recall…”

You nod shortly and lean back in your chair to free your front jeans pocket, reaching in for your small notepad, flicking a few pages back. Standing up, you join him. “Ah, let’s see… Spring Day, Blue Side, Autumn Outside the Post Office, and Winter Bear. Are they still in stock?”

He hums in consideration, ducking through the low doorway to peruse the aisles. It’s a narrow store, narrow but relatively deep, with two long aisles running down the centre, rows upon rows of candles on every available surface. Towards the front, there are small, tiered tables with layers of gift boxes, and he beelines towards them, sifting through. “Now,” he murmurs under his breath, “those are seasonal candles, so our best bet would be…. Here!” He draws out a squarish cream box with gold detailing. Behind a layer of clear plastic are four mini glass candles, and he lifts up a leg to balance the box on as he delicately pulls off the sticky round tab at one end, pulling out the sleeve inside. “The Four Seasons gift box. I don’t know if your killer used the full size or gift size candles, but these are all I have left. We have a full range every season, and on holidays too, but these are the big sellers so I put them together for our combo deals.” He passes them over to you, using the back of a finger to push his glasses back up his nose. “He has good taste; they’re great candles.”

You glance at him sharply. “He murdered four people. That we know of.”

He cringes at himself. “Sorry, I… I just meant I, uh, I recommend these a lot, sell them a lot. If he bought them off me, I wouldn’t be able to pick him apart in a crowd. It’s hard to keep crack of faces, especially before special holidays. That’s all.”

You drop your gaze to the cardboard sleeve, heavy with the four glass jars. “This is only three of them,” you reply. “Spring Day, Blue Side, the autumn one… this has Serendipity as the winter scent.”

He pouts in surprise. “Oh! Sorry about that. Serendipity is a nice one too. Smells like Christmas cookies.”

“I need Winter Bear,” you remind firmly, though not unkindly. You see the faraway look in his eyes, like he’s recalling the scent, smelling it in his mind, and you understand just how much this craft means to him.

“Of course,” he laughs sheepishly, “come with me. You’re in luck; we only just last week released our full winter range. It’s to the front.”

“That’s interesting,” you muse, mind whirring as you follow him. “So that means our guy must have been in here recently.”

Namjoon stops short, almost causing you to walk into his back. He continues after a shocked pause. “That’s a really good point, I didn’t think of that.” He sends you a dazzling smile, eyes soft. “You’re really good.”

You try to stay professional and neutral, but you can’t help the smile that breaks across your face with a breathy laugh. “Thank you. But maybe save the praise until after I got the guy. You got security cameras?”

“Oh, of course, can’t be too careful!” He deftly plucks a full-size, heavy hulk of a jar from the main display, holding it in his wide palms. His smile freezes, falters, falls. “Well, that is, uh… I have a camera in the office out back and a camera over the front door. So we could pull the records and see everyone that’s come of left, but we wouldn’t be able to see what they got inside the bag.”

You suppress the bubbling of irritation in your chest with a strained smile. “Can’t be too careful,” you repeat with a sour undertone of sarcasm lacing your voice.

He looks put out for a moment, staring silently down at the large glass jar, a milk chocolate-shade of wax poured inside with a thin layer of christmassy red on top. His thumb swipes slowly over the paper label pasted across the front, and shakes his head like he’s breaking a fog. Smiling again, his eyes crinkle warmly behind his glasses. “Winter Bear,” he announces, “here; smell it.”

You wait patiently for him to open the lid, tugging against the friction of the rubber seal, before he holds the wide opening up to your face. You raise an eyebrow, and delicately edge your nose closer to take a sniff. Immediately, your mouth drops open and your eyes widen.

The smell comes in stages, every sniff a brand new experience. First is a hit of cocoa, rich and lush, with a slight complexity that you can’t put your finger on. The smell warms, richens, and finally as you exhale the final hit of tartness lights your senses. You have the sudden urge to reach out and grab his hand as he begins to pull away, the want to hold it closer so you could inhale further, but he lowers his hand and presses the glass lid back into place. Your nostrils flare when they return to the vague honeyed scent of the store, which seems still comforting but so dull compared to that candle.

“That’s incredible,” you admit, “what is that, chocolate and raspberry?”

“Cranberry,” he corrects, a fingertip dragging along the outside of the thick glass, outlining the red layer on the surface. “It’s chocolate, brown sugar, a bit of spiced vanilla, and then that cranberry to round it out a bit, something to cut through the richer scents.”

“And you make these yourself?” you question, eyeing up the sleeve of four smaller jars you were still holding, wondering at what point would be a good time to open them.

He cracks a crooked smile, a dimple poking out of one cheek. “I certainly do! If you’d like to, sometime I could show you my little workshop where I make all these.”

You return the smile, although your eyebrows are knitted in confusion as you turn to look around the store. “I thought it was just the store floor and your office in this building.”

“It is,” he clarifies, delicately removing one of the candles from the box you’re holding, looking over the label as he speaks. “My workshop is at my house. I live about twenty minutes outside of town, a little farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. Seemed a shame to use all that space just on me, so I repurposed some rooms so that I could store more ingredients and melt more wax at a time.”

“Ah,” you say lamely as he cracks open the Blue Side candle, lifting it to his own nose. Your eyes, slightly lidded, stare deeply at the bright ocean blue candle wax. You squint at the label, though it’s behind his tanned fingers and you can’t get a good read. You wait, almost in a trance, for him to stop sniffing and offer it to you.

When he sees you staring, he laughs quietly, a soft puff of air in the otherwise-silent room, and hands it over. Instead of taking it, you rest your hand on his lightly and pull it closer, leaning in. This one’s refreshing, like a summer day on some island, fruity, floral and bright. Your fingers tighten around his unconsciously as your eyes flutter shut for just a moment, inhaling deeply. He coughs, interrupting your refreshing sniff of the candle, and you remove your hand from his hastily, standing back upright with a light pink stain high on your cheeks.

“What scents are in there? It’s very, um, light,” you stutter, cursing the divine scents for scrambling your thoughts.

Namjoon corks it up again and takes the sleeve off of you to replace it. “Some aloe vera and lily of the valley, but mainly its lotus blossom and melon. You like it?”

That’s an understatement. “How do you even come up with these combinations?” Without giving him a chance to answer, you reach out and pop out the spring fragrance, pressing the open jar right up to your nose as he speaks.

His eyes dance at your enthusiasm, and his tongue slips out the corner of his mouth to swipe across and wet his lips. “Half of it is experimenting,” he shrugs, waiting patiently for you to finish huffing Spring Day.

You reluctantly pause your sniffing to look up at him. “And the other half?”

“Trawling through the entire Yankee Candle website.”

You snort, hand jerking in surprise and causing the lip of the glass to bang against your top teeth, pinching your lip painfully. You squeak and pull it away frantically, pushing the little glass lid back on like it’s personally offended you, handing it to Namjoon to put away.

The owner sends you a bemused smirk and returns it to its rightful place in front of the summer fragrance. “I know they smell good enough to eat, but you’re not actually supposed to,” he jibes. “Spring Day is especially delicious though, I must admit. Peach, white tea, freesia and some rosewood for that darker note baseline.”

You nurse your sore lip with your tongue, hoping it doesn’t look too flirty. Or perhaps secretly hoping it does. “I might as well complete the set, then,” you remark, dropping eye contact to take a try of the autumn scent.

“This one’s a heavier scent,” he explains, “Autumn Outside the Post Office is all about those fall fruits and trees. Pomegranate, maple leaf, some juniper berry and orange blossom. This was one of the first seasonal scents I attempted, a good four-ish years ago when I opened, and it’s still going strong.”

A weird, invisible curtain falls, or a coin drops, or a string is cut. Whatever it is, that heady entrancement in the scents vanishes the moment you put that last one back. You feel your face muscles drooping, eyes turning gloomy. “Did the DI tell you what actually happened to those people?”

Namjoon doesn’t need to ask what you mean by ‘those people’. His smile falls, and he sets the sleeve of four candles down on the winter display, pushing aside some white, candy-stripe, and festive red candles to the side as he does so. Morosely, he shakes his head. “All I know is that my candles were found near the scenes. Does the guy just, I don’t know, have a sensitive nose?”

Your eyes are distant, unseeing. You shake your head. “The-” Your voice fails you; unsteady. No matter how many years you have been in this line of work, the sheer grimness of it all never left you. “The murders were very clearly inspired by the scents. That last one, Autumn Outside the Post Office?” You take a deep breath, reaching into your satchel, pulling out a manila folder with several glossy photographs. Handing them over, you watch the disgust, shock, and misery play out on his face. “A postal worker. Clocked out forty minutes before he should’ve. Poor timing, I guess. He was knocked out via a blow to the head with some unclear blunt weapon, probably metal, and maple leaves were shoved down his throat. He suffocated to death just metres away from the staff exit out back.”

The candle shop owner’s voice is soft, almost inaudible. “Oh my god.”

You barrel forth. “That was the third one. The very first murder was originally written off as an accident. A banker who often spent his work breaks in the peach orchard down the street from his workplace was poisoned by the cyanide found in peach stones. One of his colleagues noted it was odd that he didn’t come back to his office after lunch even though he left a candle burning on his desk.”

“Spring Day,” he murmurs, flicking over to the following photo.

“Spring Day,” you confirm. “The next wasn’t for another three months. A lifeguard drowned in the community pool after hours-”

“The lifeguard drowned?”

“He had been let go from his job for arriving to multiple shifts under the influence of alcohol, and that night when he went to collect his belongings after closing, he fell in the pool and drowned. Reports showed a slow-acting tranquilizers in his system. That same drug was found in his apartment, injected into the cut up melons and pineapple slices in his fridge. He must’ve eaten before he left or something, cameras showed him stumbling around too close to the edge of the pool when he got to work, and… well. Authorities were alerted when a smoke alarm went off in the early hours of the morning. A candle from your store was found burning next to a small fire that had been lit inside a metal trash can.”

“Jesus. All three had my candles there?”

“All four,” you correct, “I noticed the connection after the fourth murder.” He’s reached the bottom of the pile of photographs now, his face washed out. Maybe you shouldn’t have shown him, but he needed to know that there were real consequences at play here. You see a flash of red in the picture just below the one he’s currently looking at, and hastily take the stack back off him. There were some things he shouldn’t have to see. “The Winter Bear candle. We’ve managed to keep the gory details from the public, but I’m sure you’ve heard about the head of Gingco Corporate.”

“The business mogul? I thought she passed away at home?”

“She was found slashed up in the bear enclosure at the zoo just outside the main town centre.”

He narrows his brows, black frames slipping down his nose again. “Wasn’t Gingco buying that zoo? It was all over the news.”

“They wanted to demolish it and build a mall, yes. It seems our killer didn’t like that so much. She died from bleeding out. Multiple cuts, in rows to look like bear claws although forensics tell us it was actually a switchblade. Dropped in the bear enclosure post-mortem.”

Namjoon wavers on his feet slightly. “And the candle?”

“On one of the picnic tables facing the enclosure. Burnt down to the wick, so it had been there for a while. Longer than she had been dead, actually. That’s when I started to think it was premeditated. That’s when I began to connect the dots.”

He lets out a shuddering exhale, hand on his sternum, rubbing in a self-soothing pattern. “I don’t understand what my candles have to do with any of this. I just give them interesting names, I don’t…”

“This isn’t your fault, Mister Kim,” you assure, slipping the manila folder back in your bag. “It’s good news, actually. It means that all we need to do is keep an eye on your customers and see if any suspicion people frequent the store. Which is where I come in. My higher-ups suspect the killer might get spooked if you install security cameras inside the store, so we want to avoid chasing him or her away from our one lead. I’ve offered to pose as an employee to keep an eye on things myself.”

“Y- what? I usually work here alone…”

“And now you won’t be.” You reach out your right hand for a handshake. “I’m looking forward to working with you, Mister Kim. I’m confident that we’ll catch this son of a bitch in no time.”

His eyebrows lift at your curse word, but he finds himself nodding instinctively. “Okay, yeah, I can- we can do that. I just need to make you a name tag. Let’s go to my office.”

“This is gonna be easy,” you promise, bottom lip resting on the edge of a takeaway paper cup, inhaling the steam that rises through the thinning layer of foam. “You have so few customers that statistically the next one is probably the murderer.”

Namjoon doesn’t seem to be suffering the same boredom as you. “Oh, it’s not that bad! It’s always slow on a Thursday morning.”

“It’s been slow every morning.”

“Well.” Namjoon sips at his water, eyebrow twitching. “It’s not slow in the afternoons.”

You place your cup down with a thud. “You close in the afternoons.”

He stares at you blankly. “...yes, but that’s just because I’m so busy back home in the workshop making more candles. Anyway, we get more customers on the weekend, just wait and see.”

You can’t keep a stern face, softening at the way his eyes glimmer behind thick glasses. “You still haven’t shown me your workshop.”

“Seems a little forward to already be asking my beautiful coworker to come home with me.”

Blushing, you shake your head and pull up a hand to cover the cheek closest to him. “Very funny,” you deflect, “I bet you just don’t want any girl cooties in your mancave.”

He lets out a loud peal of laughter, one that’s harmonised with the jingle of the overhead doorbell as a customer enters, slipping in and cutting Namjoon short. You curse the timing, wishing you could hear that joyful sound again.

“Hi there, you need any help today, or just browsing?”

Instead of replying, the elder lady simply nods at him and shuffles slowly down the room, going to the ‘florals’ section on the left wall, birdlike posture hunched under several layered cardigans.

Namjoon lets out a breathy laugh. “That’s old Mrs. Chin, she wouldn’t hear a gun if it was shot beside her ear.” His face falls, furrowing his brows. “Poor choice of metaphor. She’s deaf as a bat; anyway, she always comes in to buy a new set of tealights each week.”

“Tealights?” you question in a considering tone, finger lazily running up and down the metal hoops of your spiral bound notepad.

He spots this, and gently rests his palm over your hand, halting your absentminded movement. “If anything tells you she’s not a suspect, it shouldn’t be the tealights, it should be the fact that she’s in her nineties.”

You scoff at yourself, staring at the way his hand dwarfs yours, your wrist peeking out past his thumb. “Case closed!” you announce, putting on a TV-news producer voice. “The Wickerman has been taken into custody, and you won’t believe who it is!”

He chuckles warmly, eyes crinkling, and squeezes your hand once before removing it. As Mrs. Chin comes up with a set of six frangipani and gardenia tealights (Jamais Vu, the eggshell-white packaging says), Namjoon rings it through, chatting away to her like they’re old friends, like she can hear him. Even as she fails to hear what he’s saying, she beams, thanking him profusely as she accepts a receipt and her purchase with slightly shaky, age spotted hands.

She turns, slowly making her way down towards the exit. You reluctantly take your hand off the table, the top of it cold after being let go. “You’re really good with people, you know?”

He shrugs. “She’s a very kind person. Treats me like a grandson even though she sees me once a week at most.” Once she leaves, the door jingling again behind her, Namjoon checks the time. “Just about 1pm; that’s us done for the day. Do you mind getting the door? I’ll go take the cash till out back.”

As you stand to go lock the door and switch the hanging sign to CLOSED like you’d done every day this week with Namjoon, you feel fingers wrap around your wrist.

He looks up at you, still sitting. His eyes search your face, hand tightening on you subconsciously. “Today,” he says softly, reverentially.

You furrow your brows. “Today...?”

He swallows. “Come over to my house. I can show you the workshop. I’m in the last stages of planning a new scent, and I want you to try it.”

You fight the urge to pull back your arm slightly, just enough to that his fingers slip between yours instead of on your wrist. You smile softly and nod. “Today.”

Instead of driving your car behind him, you end up taking him in your passenger seat, him pointing out directions at the last second as every last detail of his surroundings distracted him. As it turned out, he didn’t have a licence, and would simply bike back and forth most days, hiring a moving truck to transport candles to the store once weekly.

It worked out well, the two of you enjoying amiable silence for the most part, the drive only about twenty minutes up a slight incline, becoming gravel roads in the last couple of minutes, winding around sectioned farmland and wind turbine plants, before pulling up a long driveway, wheels crunching the loose stone and coming to a stop in front of a rustic but sturdy-looking farmhouse, complete with a swing seat on the porch, and sills of yellow and pink flowers underneath the windows.

“This way,” he guides the moment you turn the key to switch the car off. Following him as he hops out and scuffles energetically down the side of the house, you hastily lock your car and race to catch up.

Instead of the front door, he takes you to the back, unlocking it with an old-fashioned heavy iron key. It’s equally cosy inside as it looks from the driveway, though the carpet is worn thin and the light he switches on is a little wan. As he takes you down through a small laundry and into what you expect to be a garage, you marvel as he shows you inside.

Clearly all his money has gone into his business. While the rest of the house is homely and humble, his workshop looks like a romanticist version of a mad scientist’s lab. Custom-made shelves that reach the wall display mason jars of every type of ground spice, flower, essential oil and concentrate that you could imagine. From vibrant red freeze-dried raspberry to warm brown nutmeg to the deep purple of pressed violet petals, he had it all. Two full walls were taken up this way; a third was for boxes of finished product, as well as stacks of the empty glasses he poured them in, bundles and bundles of wicks in wooden cases, and rolls of black paper stickers, ready to be stamped with the newest creation.

Directly beside the doorway you came in was a desk teeming with papers and plans, above which a corkboard is hammered into the wall, countless scraps of paper and scrawled phone numbers and dates. It’s chaos, but beautiful chaos.

“Wow…” you breathe, unable to put into words just how magical it is. Even the smell is like nothing you’ve experienced before. Not overpowering, but certainly full-bodied, it’s based in the rich, slightly caramel scent of soy and beeswax, but every sniff, every inhale, is a different shade made up from all the components. Some moments it’s fruity, from a tiny leftover beaker on his desk that has dried wax caked onto a glass stirrer and a delicate wafting of sweet lemon and the tartness of raspberries. As he leads you towards a wide bench of scattered bowls, measuring cups and portable stovetops, you uncover lighter floral scents, heady wood tones, and sensual spices, a harmony that’s addictive the longer you smell it.

“I apologise for the mess,” you hear his soft voice cut in, his hands filling your vision as they group together tools and open mason jars in some semblance of tidiness. “I don’t usually have guests.”

“It’s okay,” you shrug, still overcome with the entrancing nature of the room. “It’s amazing, honestly. Which one of these is the one you said you were almost finished with?”

His face lights up, pulling his glasses off and resting them on a spare spot on the bench, blinking as his eyes adjust. He reaches for a somewhat smaller bowl, about as tall as a coffee mug and a little wider, and wiggles it back and forth in his hand with a flick of his wrist, disturbing the viscous, deep purple syrup inside. “Here,” he offers up, “tell me what you think.”

Taking a hold of the glass bowl but preventing yourself from sniffing at it just yet, you gesture at his face. “Ditching the glasses?”

“Hm?” He pats his face dumbly for a moment before his eyes glimmer in recognition. You can see them a lot better without the frames’ obstruction, and you want to melt at the rich brown of them, slightly slanted but widened with enthusiasm as his cheeks pinken. “Oh! No, I just… I read on the internet that if you take away one of your senses the others get better. So I thought- I thought maybe if I couldn’t see so well, I’d be able to smell better. It’s stupid, really, but I think it’s helped so far. I’ve always been a little prone to placebo, maybe.”

You grin. “It’s cute.” He laughs shyly, ducking his head to rub at his heated cheeks. You take mercy on him (and give in to your own temptation), bringing the glass mixing bowl to your nose and breathing in deeply, stopping short when the relaxing, nostalgic scent of lavender fills your nose. Not just lavender, though. There’s plenty of comforting notes that you can’t quite put your finger on, ones that give complexity to this concoction. You hold it with both hands, sniffing audibly. “Namjoon, this is incredible!”

The conversation moving back to something he’s confident discussing, he looks back up at you with a broad smile. “Isn’t it? I’ve been trying to get a lavender scent ever since I opened, and I just couldn’t find the right balance. Everything was too sickly sweet, or smelt like soap or my grandparents’ house. But just in the last couple of days, I was struck with inspiration. Instead of going for more florals or light scents, I used ylang ylang oil and tonka absolute to darken and round out the smell. Makes it less like hospital disinfectant and more like comfort. You like it?”

You smile softly, voice bouncing weirdly as you keep your face directed towards the purple syrup. “Mm, comfort. That’s totally it. It reminds me of like, in the holidays when you have nothing to do so you have a bubble bath at 4 o’clock in the afternoon and it just feels like life is peaceful and perfect and you have all the time in the world.” You let out a deep breath. “What are you gonna call it?”

He has an unreadable look in his eyes. The tiniest quirk to his lips, the softest smile. “4 O’clock,” he answers.

The friendly, dimpled customer-service smile stays on Namjoon’s face long after the door jingles, the group of high school girls tittering away down the street. While he’s distracted tidying up the supplies for gift-wrapping, you let your eyes wander over him shamelessly.

Most of the time, when you spoke to him or thought about him, he was this soft, gentle man with a goofy smile and glimmering eyes. And while that was true, it was only in moments like these that you realised just how large he was. His tender demeanour often had you forgetting his tall frame, broad shoulders and strong hands. It was a juxtaposition that endeared you to know end; the corded body that rested under unassuming sweater vests and plain trousers. But at the same time, all that strength was channeled into his craft; the ease at which he’d lift crates of glass candles wasn’t lost on you, but he’d just sheepishly smile and say you get used to it.

Surely he didn’t have the thickest chest you’ve ever seen just by stocking a candle shop? There was so much you still didn’t know about him, and while your job was focussing on the serial killer, not your temporary coworker, you can’t help that weird bothered feeling in your chest.

Your eyes wander around the inside of the checkout desk. It’s organised chaos, with printed receipts mixed with fresh rolls mixed with notepaper on one end, haphazard piles of business cards and loyalty cards in the middle tucked behind the cash register, and three drawers filled with samples, returns, and stationery to the right.

Hearing him come back and place two fresh cups of tea on the countertop, you reach out to pluck a business card from the top pile. It’s classic off-white with warm bronze lettering embossed on it. You note with humour at the long list of roles between Namjoon’s name and contact details. Owner, creator, manufacturer, manager, storeperson. On the flip side is the friendly, manuscript letting, same as the sign above the door. Moni’s Candle Shop.

“What is Moni?” you question absentmindedly, only half-aware you’re speaking aloud.

“Moni,” Namjoon murmurs from behind you, correcting your pronunciation on the first vowel. “It’s nothing.”

You turn to him with a doubtful smile, eyes teasing. “Oh, come on, it’s your entire brand! It can’t be nothing.”

“Yes, it can,” he defends with a pout, blowing away the steam that emanates from his cup. “Just like FILA is a random word.”

You furrow your eyebrows. “FILA is an acronym. It’s like, the name of the company in French or something.”

He sets his tea down delicately, without having taken a single sip. “Yeah, well, maybe Moni is an acronym.”

“What does it stand for then?”

He turns up his nose petulantly. “I don’t want to tell you.”

You raise your eyebrows dubiously. “Because you don’t have one.”

“I do,” he counters, eyes darting upwards. “It stands for...Mmmmany Objects N-need...Interest.”

You can’t hold your unimpressed stare for more than a few seconds, breaking into a bout of laughter, reaching out to punch him lightly on the arm. “You’re such a dork,” you make out, though your grin certainly removes any bite from your words.

He lets you shove him, smiling down at you fondly. Your laughter slowly fades as he waits for you to finish, eyes crinkling and dimples showing.

“What?” you murmur, cursing how quiet your voice has become, a strange fluttering in your chest making your breath weak.

Namjoon rubs the base of his neck self-consciously. “Moni was my childhood dog. I didn’t have a lot of friends, so he really meant a lot to me.”

Your eyes widen. “Oh, Namjoon…” Now that you think about it, even though he’s charming and charismatic to his customers, you’d never seen or even heard him mention any friends or family. Plus he was the only worker in the whole business, if the impressive resume on his business card was anything to go by.

He laughs, eyes shining. “Don’t look at me like that, I’m not a charity case,” he teases warmly. “I’m happy. I’m happy now.”

You curse your overactive heart for reading too much into his words. This is a job. Stay professional. Forcing a stabilising breath into your lungs, you nod. “That’s good.”

His smile turns strained, but you only see it for a moment before his attention is caught by the jingling of a bell, a middle-aged gentleman in a business suit, rushing towards the counter even as he loudly chatters away on his phone.

“I’m happy now too,” you admit softly, letting your words be swallowed up. Namjoon’s eyes dart to you with an unreadable look, but he turns back. You don’t think he heard you.

After three days of working beside Kim Namjoon, he names a candle after you. After a week and a half, you begin to realise you have a crush on him.

After two weeks and one day, there’s a fifth murder.

It twists your heart, to see the red and blue flashing lights flooding the windows to Moni’s Candle Shop, illuminating Namjoon’s face and reflecting off his glasses as he squints and holds up a hand to protect his eyes.

You’re the first to get out of the car, rushing over. The sign is twisted to CLOSED as Namjoon exits; with a coat on and a shoulder bag, he looks like he was on his way out. Good timing, you suppose.

He’s too frazzled to greet you, hair already disheveled from running his hands through it nervously. “What’s going on, Y/n?”

“Silver Spoon,” you rush out, “who bought Silver Spoon?”

“Huh?”

You sigh and push past him, opening the front door and cringing at the ring of the overhead bell, once for you and a second time as he follows closely behind. “There’s been another one,” you explain bitterly, “I need you to write down a list of all the customers you can remember that bought Silver Spoon.”

Namjoon lets out a shuddering breath. “God, okay, um…” You watch impatiently as he searches behind the desk for a scrap of paper, settling on the back of a receipt as he scribbles, eyes lifting skywards every time he has to try and think.

“Is there anyone that you remember that’s bought the other candles too?”

“I- I don’t know, just let me write th-”

“Well, think, Namjoon, people are getting murdered!�� You’re too heated to pay attention to the crack in your voice, though he pauses and looks up with furrowed brows.

He hands over the receipt with eyes, dark with hurt. “You think I don’t know that? You were the one that was here this whole time to try and find the guy. So tell me, Y/n; did you notice anyone strange buying Silver Spoon?”

Your eyes prickle. Maybe that’s why your blood is boiling now, as you stare at the shop owner across from you. No, you didn’t. You were too busy enjoying your time with him, too busy marveling at the warmth he exuded with his customers and his craft, too busy falling for him. You swallow the rising lump of self-hatred at the back of your throat. “Thank you for the names, Mister Kim. I’ll be in touch.”

His face changes, wounded puppy-like eyes replaced with concern in a fraction of a second. “Y/n, are you-?”

“Have a nice day.” You’re out of the door and back in your car before tears of frustration slip down your cheeks.

Namjoon fidgets in the corner of your vision. It would irritate you, only you’re determined to ignore him completely as much as possible for the sake of your job. You keep your head low, focussed on your work, trying to find links between the locations, the motives, the choice of candles, anything.

“So, you won’t even look at me now? All because I couldn’t write down all the names.”

You exhale, staying silent for a moment as you finish your scrawl, refusing to look up even as you reply. “I’m not looking at you because I’m trying to do my job.”

“You were doing your job earlier. You looked at me then.”

You feel your spine stiffen. “And then somebody got stabbed to death by a tree branch.”

He baulks, visibly flinching even out of the corner of your eye. “Cypress or birch?”

You sit up slowly, narrowing your eyes at him. “That’s your fucking question? Silver birch. It was a snapped-off branch of silver birch. She was found in the forest about 20 k north of here.”

“She?”

You throw your pen down and sit back in your chair. “Im Jee-hwa,” you spit out. “I trust you to keep your mouth shout because the Im family certainly don’t want it getting out, but she was the fifth victim.”

Namjoon frowns. “The chaebol? Last I heard, she was in jail.”

You shrug. “Last night, she got bailed out by her father and spent the night at their family residence. According to various witnesses of relatives and staff, she left before ten in the morning and was discovered less than two hours later by a hiker. Stabbed to death with a broken off branch - no prints, of course - and a silver spoon lodged in her throat, deep enough to damage her vocal chords.”

Namjoon’s hand rises up to his neck, wincing in sympathetic ache. “God, and she was only in her early twenties.”

“Twenty-two,” you specify glumly. “God, the poor girl. Who knew being in jail for tax evasion wasn’t the worst part of her week?” You lean forward, rubbing your face tiredly. “Nobody apart from the residence staff, some of the Im Corporation partners and Im’s family knew about her release the night before. Silver lining is that we can narrow our suspect down to that pool of individuals. Bad news is that her mother estimates it at around eighty to one hundred people because of the likelihood of the news spreading amongst more of the Im Corporation’s workers overnight. Miss Jee-hwa was quite the hot topic, it seems.”

“Jesus.” Namjoon pauses for a bit, like he doesn’t know what to say. “Still, I don’t see why this means you need to ignore me completely. Wouldn’t it be better if we worked together?”

You turn your head again, breaking away from his hopeful eyes. Even just seeing his hand resting on the table beside yours, fingers flexing slightly like he wants to reach out, makes your heart tug in ways you just can’t afford to indulge in. “We’re going to have to create a promotion. Something irresistible that inspires all the customers coming through that door to sign up their name and contact details.”

His voice is lost. “Y/n?”

“While I try and find the connection, and the tech team start pulling background checks on everyone at the house and the Corporation headquarters that night, we’re going to keep track officially of every single person who purchases a candle. Hopefully we can track somebody down before another incident, but if not… There’s no way we won’t be able to find our guy if we compare your list, the people that knew about Jee-hwa, and the customers from now on. There’s no way,” you reiterate, unsure whether it’s you or him you’re trying to convince.

“That sounds like a good plan,” Namjoon agrees. “I usually run a Christmas competition anyway. I’ll whip up a sign-up sheet. Let’s hope they use their real na… Y/n?”

The use of your name brings you back, and you turn to him, eyes wide. “Tax evasion,” you profess in a hush.

“Sorry?”

“Tax evasion. Im Jee-hwa had all the money in the world, and she was still selfish. Our killer put a silver spoon her throat, just like that old insult about rich people born with a silver spoon on their tongues. Yes, it’s like the candle, but it’s some sort of… of sick irony that relates to the victim.”

His eyes are wide, brows poking over the top of his thick frames. “He’s playing god.”

“He’s playing the judge and jury,” you correct. “Fuck, I can’t believe I didn’t see it until now.”

Namjoon hunches over your shoulder as you begin to flip through the pages of your file, going through the details of the previous murders. “Do the others fit?”

You squint. “Some. The drunk lifeguard being drowned, for instance. But I bet if we went digging in their personal lives a little more, we’d find links. The candles aren’t just the method, they’re the motive. Give me a second, I need to call my superior and get the investigators on this."

"O-Okay, I'll sort out the Christmas stuff," Namjoon hurries out, standing as you do.

You're already dialling when his hand comes into your line of vision, gently wrapping around your forearm and squeezing reassuringly.

"We'll get him, Y/n," Namjoon promises, "you're an amazing detective."

You soften, flicking him an appreciative smile as you raise the phone to your ear, but your heart sinks. Maybe that's not enough.

Things return to the way they are, for a while. With every name you write down, every candle you sell (far more than the previous weeks as Christmas grows nearer day by day), and every suspect your investigation team crosses off the list, you loosen up, feeling more positive.

Nothing stops the dread you feel checking your phone every morning, and there's nothing better than the overwhelming relief you feel when there hasn't been news. It's illogical, you know; if there was another murder, your superiors wouldn't hesitate to wake you. Part of the gig. But still, it was nice to clear your notifications and breathe easy for a few moments.

Namjoon was doing good on his end of the deal, persuading all the customers to sign up for the Christmas prize pack, no matter how reluctant, and you siphoned photocopies off to the investigators, adding to the backlog more background checks to run and alibis to clear.

"God," you groan, stretching out your limbs with a guttural noise that morphs into a wide yawn. "So busy yesterday, and suddenly it's dead quiet. How can it be this slow on a Saturday?"

"It's a Sunday."

"Is it?" You consult your phone with another groan. "Fuck, I'm reaching the drop-off point."

"The what?"

You let out a tired smile at Namjoon's comical look of confusion. "The drop-off point," you repeat. "It's something my friends and I came up with in school. Apparently, most cases go cold right when the police or detectives or whoever get compliant and lazy, thinking they have a perfect net placed out. They're convinced that they'll catch the sucker, so they sit back and wait, only for a hole to form right under their noses and the suspect to get away. That's the drop-off point. Aren't you bored?"

"Hm?"

"Bored. We think, 'oh, we just need to keep writing down names and we'll get 'em.' But maybe we're so focussed on writing names that we're missing something really obvious that we'll regret for years to come. Don't you think?"

Namjoon raises his eyebrows, letting it sink in for a moment. "I think you're worrying yourself over nothing. This whole time our first major in was that the person is a customer. They can't have bought all the candles at once; not only would I probably remember someone coming in and ordering five or so specific candles, but some of the later candles weren't even released when the first murder happened. So we know for a fact they're coming back to get candles multiple times. And nobody has left here with a candle without writing their full name and contact details down, so we're fine. You're fine."

You stare at Namjoon for a few moments, eyes roaming over his face. The dimple that's emerged with his soft smile, the warmth of his eyes and the earnestness in his expression. Your heart aches at the sight, mouth filling with a million things you wish you could say to him. "Thank you," you settle on. "I needed that."

His smile widens, and his mouth opens to reply, but instead of his caramel voice, you're greeted with the metallic buzz of your phone vibrating on the desk.

"Fuck," you interrupt, snatching it off the counter and feeling your good mood sour with dread at the ID. You answer it with a worried frown, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Please don't tell me there's been another," you ask of your superior.

The line is silent for a moment. "We need you down here, Y/n. Bring any names you have so far. The gap between has shortened yet again; he's getting impatient. Or addicted. Desperate, perhaps, if he thinks we're onto him. Either way, you better have something. I'll see you at the station."

Your stomach turns when the line goes dead.

Namjoon's hand rests on your shoulder, but you have to shake it off to stand and reach for your coat. He takes it back, flexing it awkwardly. "There's been another," he says, more of a statement than a question.

"The drop-off point," you confirm bitterly, "he's slipped through the net yet again. I was careful this time; not a single person that seemed out of place, or with odd behavior. Nothing."

"Hey," Namjoon soothes, eyebrows knitting in worry as a customer enters, a young child in a school uniform and backpack, preventing him from saying any details. "It's okay. You have the names now, it's time to compare them and like you said last week, there's no way we won't be able to narrow it down. You've got this."

A headache forming between your temples, you grab the clipboard of Christmas prize signups, and leave out the back, glancing behind you at Namjoon's tensed form as he puts on a smile for the young customer.

"It's him, it's fucking him, I know it," you rush out as you hustle down the corridor, your boss pacing to keep up.

"Are you one hundred percent certain?" Kim Seokjin, the man you'd been reporting to on this case, halts you with an arm across your chest. "We haven't finished going through the other suspects. There could be others that match better. We don't even know that he knew all of the victims."

"It's him," you promise, eyes bright with conviction. "Cha Giho. In-house chef at the Im residence. So he knew Jee-hwa was out. And he frequented the shop, I sent Namjoon a text of his ID photo and Namjoon recognised him as a regular."

Seokjin's face twists in disapproval. "Jesus Christ, Y/n, you can't do that, it's private information. Besides; you said you remember speaking with him. You didn't get any serial killer vibes?"

"I didn't speak with him; Namjoon did. I was just with him at the desk. He wanted Namjoon to recommend a candle for a forest getaway, Jin, it's fucking him!"

Seokjin sighs out slowly, eyes closing for a moment to maintain composure. "Okay. I'll go with your gut on this one, Y/n, but only because I trust you. We'll go to his place tonight and take him in for questioning on suspicion of multiple murders. If you're wrong on this, Y/n-"

"I'm not wrong," you promise, "I'm not." Your face softens, staring up at the man that you had developed a close working relationship with over the past few years. The man you had begun to see as a personal hero, or an older brother. "Jin. Thank you for trusting me on this. Keep me posted."

"Of course." He pulls you into a brief but tight hug, pressing a kiss to your hairline, and pulling you back by your shoulders to hold you at arm's length, staring intensely. "Now listen to me. You go home and you stay home. Lock the doors, bolt them, everything. On the odd chance that he's not at home or that he finds out we've singled him out, I don't want him to freak out and go against his own sick brand of justice and seek out revenge instead. The last thing we want is a dangerous man like him becoming spontaneous. Understood?"

You nod. "Understood."

He doesn't let go. "And don't be stupid and go track down Mister Candlestick Maker either. We've given him a call to lock up and go home, he's safe. Please; be selfish for me and stay home and stay safe."

You pout playfully for a moment, but sober up when his expression doesn't changes. "You too, Jin. Send the SWAT team. I need you alive to bother me."

He scoffs, but his eyes twinkle with fondness, and maybe a little teary sentiment. "Okay, kid, off you go, I have a suspect to detain."

"Aye aye, Captain."

"What are you doing here?" "Being stupid," you answer through the crack in the door, "now let me in."

Namjoon sighs, shutting the door to remove the chain and opens it back up again, ushering you inside with a cautious look outside after you. Closing it securely behind him, he turns to you. "Why are you here?"

You push past him, grabbing his woolly sweater by the sleeve to pull him after you. "I saw you burn yourself with your own candle wax last week because you wanted to read the label on the base right after you poured it. There's a serial killer on the loose, I don't trust you to keep yourself safe." "Thanks," he says flatly as you sit him down on his plushy couch, standing beside, knees almost touching his. "To be fair, there's been a serial killer on the loose this whole time."

"All going well, he gets detained and know we found him out. All going poorly, he manages to evade the authorities and goes on the run, knowing we found him out. I don't like those odds."

"Don't you have faith in your own colleagues?"

You whirl around with a glare, arms crossed tightly. "Aren't I allowed to be scared for you?" you ask in a small yet biting voice, hating the way it trembles. "Can't you just let me take care of you? Keep you safe?"

He nods slowly. "Sit down," he instructs gently. He waits until you do as he says. "Now," he begins, "what's really bothering you? There's something else going on here and both you and I know it."

You purse your lips, tucking your legs up, resting your chin on your knees and wrapping your arm around them. "Crystal Snow."

"Sorry?"

"I never told you," you answer, though deep inside you know full well this isn't what he meant, "I never told you what candle the last murder was based off. It was Crystal Snow."

He clears his throat lightly, eyes dull as you dodge his true question. "That's Christmas release candle just like Silver Spoon. Another woody one, too. Pine needles, fir, white musk, rosemary and cedar. Hard to get it totally white with those ingredients, but... That's beside the point. Was it in a forest again? I know we have pine trees in the area."

You shake your head numbly, only just noticing the warm fireplace to the left of the couch when it crackles. Somehow, you hadn't felt any of its warmth since arriving. "Father of two young children. Found by the older one that morning when he went outside to play in the snow. His father was buried in it, frozen. His head and shoulders were stuffed into a kennel."

"A kennel?"

"It's from their dog. Wife says it wasn't used anymore. The victim used to always make the dog sleep outside in the kennel, but it wasn't properly insulated. Just got back from the vets after getting pneumonia last week."

He lets out a heavy sigh. "At least we've got him now, Y/n. It's over." He stands up suddenly, and you look up at him. "Do you want a cup of tea or something?" he offers. "Now that you're here, I'd rather you not go back outside, so we might as well get comfortable."

You try to push your worries from your mind, simply giving him a soft smile. "Tea sounds nice, thank you."

As you listen to him tinker away in the kitchen, you shuffle further across the couch in the direction of the fireplace, occupying the space he left warm. There's a window to the left, and you rub your forearms through the fabric of your long-sleeved top, looking outside as flakes of snow pile against the sill, partially blocking your view of the white abyss beyond, vaguely hilly like the terrain of Namjoon's backyard. If nothing else, it's much more peaceful here than at your place. More quiet.

You straighten up suddenly, a shiver running up your spine. Too quiet.

You jump up, rushing into the kitchen and feeling dread shock your system like a splash of cold water when it's empty. Surely he didn't leave a door unlocked... "Namjoon?"

"Yeah?"

You jump at the voice behind you. "Fuck, Namjoon, where were you?"

He stands in a now-open doorway, one hand behind his back as the other grips the doorknob. "In the workshop," he answers, jerking his chin back to gesture the room itself behind him, adjoining to the kitchen.

You sag in relief, but frown a little. "I don't remember coming through the kitchen last time."

"Two entrances," he explains. "This actually used to be a walk-in pantry but I knocked down the doors so there was some extra space." He shakes his head as if he's clearing it, then coughs lightly, eyes focussing in on yours intensely. "Y/n, I have something I want to give you-"

"A heart attack," you interrupt, smacking his chest. "Seriously, Namjoon, you disappeared and I thought something had happened!"

He smiles widely, and you fight to stop from instinctively returning it. "You really do, huh?"

Your face crumples in confusion. "I do what?"

"Care for me," he finishes in a touched voice, brown eyes soft like butter. "I...I thought so for a while, but I never..." He clears his throat again, and whips his hand out from behind his back so quickly you jump, brandishing a glass jar. "Here," he declares, "I made this for you."

You look down in wonder, seeing a familiar shade of purple fill the glass. "Namjoon..."

"4 O'Clock. The lavender candle. Years, and I couldn't perfect it. And then you came along and I found myself thinking about you every minute of every day and it just... it just came to me thanks to you. Everything just makes sense now. I finally mixed the scent with the wax, and I want you to have the first one."

You let him place it in your hands, and you look down at it, stunned. Your thumb runs over the paper sticker, pressed with a stamp. Just three lines, in varyingly sized font.

"So?" Namjoon takes a deep breath, eyes brimming with emotion, with affection and hope. "I kept telling myself I was being delusional, or just convincing myself and seeing what wasn't really there, but after today... You really care for me. And I care for you too, so much, Y/n. I've totally fallen for you."

You swallow thickly, delicately setting the unlit candle down on the kitchen counter beside you.

Namjoon's face falls, his whole body deflates, brows knitted in confusion. "Y/n?"

You can't bear to hear the hurt in his voice. "Namjoon..." you breathe, chanting it like a prayer. Perhaps in some ways, it is. A plea for salvation. Namjoon. "I came to you for my work. And... now that we know who it is, I'm going to have to leave tomorrow now that my work is done. For the integrity of the case, I have to remain professional. Whatever my feelings are-" you break off, heart breaking at the way he looks up in renewed hope. "Whatever my feelings may be, I can't act on them."

Namjoon nods slowly, trying to keep his face neutral as he looks down at the candle sitting abandoned on the kitchen bench, but also at the way your hand hovers, fingers resting on the edge like they can't bear to leave it completely. Finally, he lifts his eyes to your face, searching for an emotional vulnerability that you can't help but imagine is clear to see.

Silently, with only the blanketed hush of the snow outside to surround you in this moment, Namjoon takes one step forward, so that you would have to crane your neck to keep his gaze. So that your bodies almost touch. So that he can rest his palms on your cheeks, cupping them gently and tipping your face up to meet his. "Then please," he begs, voice barely more than a low whisper, "let me act on mine."

The lightest gasp leaves your lips before he bends down and kisses the sound away, warm and sweet and desperate, cradling you like he's scared you'll turn to dust beneath his fingers if he's not perfectly gentle. A murmur comes from his throat, something you think may be your name, and a wall inside you breaks, a cord snaps.

Reaching up, you wrap one hand around his wrist and the other in the fabric of his collar, pulling at it to deepen the kiss, and he melts, taking short steps forward as you shuffle back, until the small of your back presses against the kitchen counter and you arch over it a little with the deepness of his kisses, growing more fevered after receiving a positive response.

You shouldn't be doing this. But god, it feels too good to stop, your heart beating so fast that you feel it where your chests press together, senses going haywire until you feel drunk on him, like the only oxygen in the world is inside Kim Namjoon's mouth, the swipe of his tongue against your lower lip like a burst of euphoria, a gasp of fresh air that saves you from drowning.

One of his hands slips back further, winding into your hair and cupping the back of your head, and you tremble as he presses you so fully against him, even his leg slipping between your thighs so that not a single millimeter of space keeps you apart.

His skin is so hot where it touches yours that you feel on fire, and you have the sudden urge to rip off your top so that you can bare yourself to him, even simple layers of fabric too much separation to handle.

He pulls away reluctantly to pant, lips pink and swollen, pupils blown wide, and you follow suit to catch your breath.

"Y/n," he finally makes out through gasps, thumb rubbing mindlessly at your cheekbone, "if you're going to regret this in the morning, please stop. I can't- you can't give me everything only to take it away again. I'm willing to wait. Until they arrest Cha Giho, until they convict him, until you hand in your final report, I don't care, I'll wait for you. When we do this it can't be a mistake." He stares at you earnestly, openly, hopelessly.

Your eyes widen, taking in his words. "Namjoon, I... Are you sure? I promise I want you, but... if they call you up as a witness and we've been sleeping together, it could totally invali-"

"I know, I know, it's okay," he reassures. "I understand." He gives you a fond smile. "Just knowing you feel the same is enough for me."

You nod, a strange blend of relief and regret mingling inside you. "Thank you, Namjoon. I'm sorry."

He lets you stay entangled like this for a few more bittersweet moments, before gently slipping his hand out of your hair and letting his other fall from your face, stepping away. "Don't apologise, there's no need. Now; I think we've both had enough excitement for one night. I might skip the tea and get straight to bed."

You stand up straight again on slightly shaky legs. "I can take the couch."

"You could," he jibes with a grin, "or you could just sleep in the spare bedroom."

You laugh, poking his rumpled sweater. "What a gentleman."

He shrugs with a warm smile, turning to lead the way. "And just because we aren't sharing the same bed," he calls out over his shoulder, "doesn't mean you can leave without saying goodbye."

"I would never," you promise.

The call comes in the early hours of the morning. Enough for you to be unceremoniously ripped from unconsciousness, the deepest sleep you ever remember having. You’ve purposely set your boss’ ringtone to be the most annoying, whiny preset tune you could find so that it would wake you when needed, and you regret that decision now as the sharp blue light causes you to wince.

“What is it?” you croak, forgoing pleasantries.

“Can you contact Kim Namjoon? He’s not answering his phone.”

You frown, mind feeling two steps behind as you struggle to process his words. “Answering his pho- What’s going on, Jin?”

“He left a note,” your boss explains. “At his house, Cha Giho left a note. I need to speak with Mister Kim.”

You sit up like a bolt. “He what? It’s him, then, it’s definitely him? What did it say?”

Jin lets out a little breath of forced patience. “Can you pass on a message to Mister Kim?”

The Mister Kim that was currently sleeping just down the hall. “I could probably work something out,” you answer. “What did the note say, Jin? Is Namjoon in danger?”

“Namjoon,” Jin repeats blankly. He goes silent for a moment. “...You didn’t go straight home when I asked, did you?”

You huff, jaw tensing. “Now’s not the time, okay? If Cha Giho is still out there, then I need to know what he said in that note, Jin. We don’t need another body.”

Even through the phone connection, you hear the reluctant clicking of his tongue. Jin clears his throat and begins to read. “‘All these months I had hoped you would recognise me. You were always happy to recommend me a candle every time but yet you never asked me my name or how I was doing. I’m sick of taking justice out on them, treating your word like God. I want this to end tonight. I’m going to take my justice out on you.’ That’s it, that’s all he wrote. So wake up Mister Kim or don’t, but whatever you do, make sure the house is safe and that you two stay there. Got it?”

“Of course,” you reply, but your mind is already whirring, getting up and tugging on your shoes with one hand. “Listen, Jin, I’ve gotta go, I want to wake up Namjoon so he knows what’s going on. Better to stay alert and aware. Thanks for the call.” You hang up before he can respond, and break into a hasty jog the moment the call ends.

You didn’t know if Cha knew where Namjoon lived. You didn’t know how or when or where he was planning to strike. But you knew the one thing that could tell you.

You write a note for Namjoon in rushed but legible handwriting, instructing him to stay inside and stay safe, that you just needed to visit the store quickly to check up on something. After making sure all the curtains in the house were drawn, the windows were firmly shut and the doors locked, you leave, the front door clicking and locking with a finality that steels you.

You drive in tense silence, eyes flitting all over the road in front of you, at the milky pools of yellow your headlights cast onto the gravel. Part of you is expecting the middle-aged man to be crouched behind a bush with an old-timey revolver, or screaming down the road with a bloody butcher knife. Years you’ve been working this job, and still these fantasies have a tendency to overtake you. The entire drive, only a few cars go past you, none looking particularly unusual.

You realise your mistake the moment you pull up across the road from the silent row of stores that house Moni’s Candle Shop. You also know it’s too late to go back.

Each one of those stores are dead quiet, totally black. In a town this small, there weren’t even any neon lights that would illuminate the streets all night. You can barely see by the wan glow of the streetlamps, few and far between, but even if they weren’t there, your eyes would be drawn to Moni’s anyway.

Easily visible through the glass of the door, sitting on the front display, is a single candle with a warm flickering flame.

You flick your engine off, and slump backwards in your seat, kicking out with a cry of frustration. He wasn’t going to Namjoon. He was going to let Namjoon come to him.

And now that you’re here - and there’s no doubt in your mind that he’s watching out - even if you turn around and leave, there’s nothing to say he won’t follow you back.

Not for the first time in your career, directly disobeying and lying to your boss hadn’t worked out as well as you had intended. You had thought that checking out the list of customers’ names and their purchases would aid you, that perhaps if you looked up the latest candle Cha Giho had bought that somehow you could predict what move he’d make, but it seems it’s too late for that.

You stay like that, in your car in the dark, for about twenty minutes, trying to figure out a game plan. You didn’t fancy calling your boss and having him chew you out and suspend you, but at the same time it wasn’t like you could wake Namjoon and get him to bike all the way down at four in the morning. If Cha saw police sirens, he’d definitely split and then you’d be no better off. And the longer you waited, doing nothing, the more vulnerable you were, just a sitting duck in your car.

With a steeling breath, you throw open the car door, stumbling out into the frosty air, cursing as a cutting breeze saps the heat from your body. As you cross the road, you keep an ear out, ducking your head to send a text to Jin anyway, just a GPS location marker, immediately putting your phone on Do Not Disturb afterwards. As much as he knew how to bite your head off when you fucked up, you’d rather be on his grumpy side than six feet under. You were reckless, not stupid.

The front door is unlocked. It shouldn’t be, but you suppose Cha was courteous enough to make the way easy enough. The bell jingling is noisy enough to make you jump, and you warily hold up your arm in a protective stance, eyeing the shadows.

Luckily, you aren’t immediately assaulted by an attacker, and the door closes behind you, still unlocked. The moment you take a breath, a rich scent fills your nose; caramelised with a warm spice to it. Even as you need to stay alert, it begins to relax your tense muscles. As you breathe it in, you take a moment to let your eyes adjust to the dim inside of the store. Orange plays across your eyes from the warm flame of the candle, but it doesn’t reach far, and you can’t see very deep in the store. There’s no one immediately in your vicinity, but that doesn’t mean Cha isn’t somewhere in the store.

“Come out,” you call, relying on your experience in the field to keep your voice stable. “I know you’re there. Let’s do this the easy way; we already have your written confession, so you might as well cooperate with me now.”

You wait for a moment, but you can’t hear anything, not even a rustle of fabric or a breath. He was going to do this the hard way.

Sighing, you move forward with cautious steps, approaching the display table that houses the candle on one of its upper tiers, right at easy arm’s reach. Taking care not to disturb the melted wax inside, you lift it, trying to make out the paper label. With light coming from within, its shadowed in black, and you huff, reaching in your pocket to pull out your phone, using the light to see.

You suck in a breath. So he had planned on killing Namjoon here, then.

“Very funny,” you announce flatly, “Magic Shop, huh? Did you pick this one yourself?”

Still, the room stays silent, and you frown. Normally by now the killer would have either grown defensive, smug, or aggressive. You weren’t prepared for the total lack of response. A niggling thread of doubt begins to knot itself inside your chest. You glance down at the candle one more time. The wax itself is a glossy tan, but almost the entire top third, if not half, is molten, tipping around the sides. This candle has been burning for hours.

With the cold splash of realization running down your spine, you slam the candle back on the display table, cursing when the wax spills out, pouring over your hand. You recoil like you’ve been stung, rubbing at the burning over your knuckles, an angry red welt already rising on the skin.

Doing your best to ignore it, you turn your phone flashlight to the rest of the store, forcing yourself to investigate the whole interior just to confirm Cha isn’t still there, or hasn’t left anything behind. Even though your heart is screaming at you to leave, you dutifully look in every human-sized nook and cranny, taking just enough time to confirm what you already know.

Cha isn’t here.

Magic Shop was never Moni’s, it was Namjoon’s workshop.

And you’d left Namjoon alone there.

It’s a good thing it’s the middle of the night and there aren’t many cars around. You floored it like never before, very nearly careening off the road on several turns on the windy road back to Namjoon’s house, and you just about crashed into his house with the speed at which you approached it, not even bothering to fully turn off your car as you rush to the front door, banging on it wildly.

As you whack your fists against the solid door, numb to the sharp pain of your burned skin impacting on it, you scream Namjoon’s name, loud enough for your throat to go raw. After a minute with no reply, you push back tears and begin to run around the perimeter, swearing in terrified frustration as all the windows and doors are as securely shut as when you’d left them.

Cha was long gone when you arrived at Moni’s Candle Shop; there was no way you had beat him here, no way he wasn’t already inside. Barely aware of the tears blurring your vision, you reach into your pocket for your phone, shakily dialing the one person you knew would pick up without delay.

“Jin,” you sob out the second the other line picks up, cringing at the loud noises of police sirens that floods his end, “I was wrong, he’s not at the store, he’s here, he’s-”

“Y/n, where the fuck are you?”

You freeze your frantic pacing around the back of Namjoon’s house at the harrowed tone in your boss’ voice. Even as you threw around the f-word like crazy at work, Jin had never once sworn, not at you, not at anyone. “I’m- I’m at Namjoon’s house, Jin, I just got back here after-”

“You went to the store right after I told you to stay put, you reckless fucking girl, do you have any idea how terrified I was when I got here and couldn’t find you anywhere?”

“Got here? You went to the shop?”

The piercing noise of sirens fades away slowly, like Seokjin’s walking further away, and you can hear him puffing into the phone, shallow breaths. “Of course I went to the shop, Y/n, because I knew how stupid you can be and I was fucking right! You’re just lucky you didn’t get hurt.”

Your eyes widen. “No! Jin, no, Cha hasn’t disappeared completely, he’s here, at Namjoon’s house, I know it! I’m stuck outside, Namjoon isn’t responding, I’m-” you break off, voice cracking violently as a sob bubbles to the surface. You let fresh tears run hot tracks down your face. “God, what if he’s dead already, Jin? I can’t-”

“We’re going to come down there, Y/n, I’ve already sent out the rest of the squad cars that stayed at the station, they should get there first. Just stay safe, okay? This isn’t what you want to hear but if Cha and Namjoon are both in there, then he’s probably already dead, Y/n. You know that, it’s what your training tells you, so it would be foolish of you to break in without backup…” He trails off with a sigh. “But you’re not going to listen to any of this. I don’t know why I bother.”

You hiccup, using the light of the moon to try and spot some rocks that would be of use in breaking a window. “I can’t wait outside, Jin. I can’t.”

Jin goes silent for a moment, the only sound a muted thud of a car door opening and then closing again. “...The profiling team have kept researching Cha. The pulled medical history shows he had surgery on his right knee in March of this year.”

You use your other arm to chuck a heavy rock at one of the back bedroom windows, ducking and turning away to protect your face from any stray shards. You hear Jin sigh at the noise. “Thank you, Jin. I’ll keep it in mind. I have to go.”

“Don’t get yourself killed, kid,” Jin jokes, but his voice falls flat, unconvincing. “Please don’t,” he adds weakly, the line going dead right after.

You straighten back up, shaking off the few pieces of glass that had landed on your back and in your hair, and take off your coat, hissing at the cold air as you lay it over the jagged edges of the smashed window.

Climbing in is easy enough, and you emerge in an unfamiliar room, one that, even just by the pale glow of the moon, is visibly lived in. Namjoon’s bedroom.

Giving an apologetic wince as you crunch over the broken glass littered all over his carpet, you quickly pick up the nearest thing you could possibly use as a weapon, which happens to be a massive hardback book on his nightstand, an intricate and heavy edition of The Odyssey. Even as your heart races enough to bang against your ribs, you spare a fond smile at the man’s reading choices, holding the hulking thing in front of you like a barricade.

It feels strange, slinking down the carpeted hallway towards the kitchen. Every second of silence you’re expecting to be filled by a guttural scream or a thud of impact or a gunshot. Every shadow seems to shift and move, more dark in the house than light to see by. It feels like wading through shark infested waters with nothing but a pair of floaties as protection.

You pause, just for a moment, when you enter the kitchen, squinting at the light pooling out of a crack in the door to the workshop. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust, fireworks bursting behind your eyelids in vibrant yellows and neon pinks, split seconds of colour with every blink. Once you think you can see without wincing, you take a quiet breath, tiptoeing closer and closer, cringing at the barely audible tap-squeak of your boots on the linoleum floor.

When you gingerly peek around the corner, into the room, you have to clap a hand over your mouth to prevent your gasp from being heard.

The first thing you see is Namjoon.

Arms and torso bound to a chair with the thick industrial packing tape he used for his online orders, Namjoon has his eyes squeezed shut, not in pain but in fear, and his glasses are askew, one lens cracked. He’s rendered mute with more tape, but the edges are lifting from where his tears have slipped between.

That’s not what causes a dark bolt of fear to run through you, though.

Namjoon’s drenched. Absolutely soaked through his clothes, his dark blonde hair sopping. His nose flares at the stench, and you can smell it from here.

Lighter fluid.

For his final masterpiece, Cha had drawn inspiration not from the ingredients, but from the candle itself. You jerk as a wave of bile rises in your throat, managing to swallow it down.

You crane your head more, looking through the tiny gap to make sure Cha isn’t already lighting a match. You spy his silhouette browsing the shelves of ingredients, a few steps away from Namjoon. His hands are empty, and that’s enough for you.

You kick in the door, receiving a gratifying jump from Cha as he whirls around with widened eyes, before they lower again into a lazy grin. You glare at him, eyes darting over to Namjoon, calculating if you’d have enough time to run to him without Cha intercepting. With a tense jaw, you remain in the doorway.

The serial killer laughs, an off-kilter, grating noise. He’s quite handsome, dark hair and sculpted face, but there’s an unsettling gleam in his eyes that revolts you. “I’ve been expecting you,” he announces in a sing-song voice. “Though you took so long. Namjoon and I have been growing bored, quite frankly.”

You let your eyes return to Namjoon, who shakes like a leaf, chest rising and falling in little pants, unable to get enough air through his nose. Rage wells inside you at the sight, but deeper than that, true fear. You almost feel like falling to your knees in tears, begging to exchange your life for his. Anything to get him out of the hot seat, quite literally.

“It’s over, Cha,” you say instead, “the cops are on their way, it’s only a matter of time before they storm the place. Even if you somehow slip away, every police station in the country has a picture of your face on their Wanted board. Every airport, train station and bus terminal won’t let you through. And in the morning, the Wickerman’s true identity will be blasted all over the news. No matter what you do, it’s over. Don’t make any rash decisions.”

His face curls up angrily at this, marring his fine features. “Rash decisions? Tell me, Detective, has there been anything I’ve done so far that has struck you as a rash decision? You wound me.”

You refrain from rolling your eyes, the irritation at his blase behavior welling inside you with no outlet. Keep him talking, you think to yourself. If he won’t give up, just distract him long enough for backup to arrive. “Well, I can only imagine this whole crackpot scheme of yours was borne from a rash decision. Scented candles? It’s a joke.”

He recoils visibly, eye twitching. “It’s inspired,” he spits back venomously, “something nobody appreciates these days. It’s not your average pointless slasher, it’s hard work and it’s art and it’s for the greater good. Those people I killed, all of them, were monsters.”

“They were only human,” you disagree firmly, “just like you.”

He shakes his head slowly, eyes wavering. “I’m not human. I’m a god.”

“I thought Namjoon was the god,” you retort drily, forcing yourself to ignore Namjoon’s brows furrowing in confusion. “Or was that note of yours bullshit too?”

“You read it?” Cha blinks suddenly, nose flaring as he collects himself. “I was wrong. I thought I was acting on his behalf, fulfilling the prophecy of each candle. Carrying out justice. Killing bad people.” Cha turns to where Namjoon’s sitting with a glare. “He recommended every single one of those candles to me personally. They meant something.”

A strange, wounded gurgle sounds from behind the tape over Namjoon’s lips. It sounds like a denial. Or maybe an apology.

“He recommended them because they smelt good, Giho,” you explain through gritted teeth. “But those murders? The children without a father now? The zoo that has to close down because of its shot reputation? That is all on you.”

The skinny man buries his face in his hands for a moment, roughly rubbing at his eyes with a confused moan. “No, I- I was doing it for the betterment of society, these people were leeches, they were abusers, they were lazy, they were selfish.”

“And you’re a murderer,” you reply simply. “Who’s worse off?”

That seems to shut him up. Opening and closing his mouth like a fish, he takes a shuddering breath and turns to the shelf of ingredients, keeping you in his peripheral, but focusing on the rows and rows of jarred powders and liquids and other items.

You slowly edge closer to Namjoon, aware that Cha is much closer than you, and you can’t imagine you’d be able to get to him in time without Cha freaking out and pulling out a lighter or a match. There’s a bulge in his pants pocket that gives you pause.

“It’s over,” Cha mumbles slowly, picking up a half-empty jar of ground nutmeg, watching the layers shift as he turned it. “Only, it’s not. Not yet. Not quite over.”

He holds the jar in one large palm, but you spy his other hand sinking lower, slowly like he doesn’t want you to notice. With a rising heart rate, you turn your head to Namjoon, widening your eyes at him to catch his attention. Knee, you mouth, as widely as you dare. Cha doesn’t catch it, too busy trying to be subtle himself.

Namjoon’s eyes frown at you behind cracked glasses, before he straightens up slightly in realization. His eyes flick over to Cha’s legs, and back at you, raising his brows in question. Your head lifts in the tiniest nod. Then, you tap your right leg twice. Namjoon breathes in deeply through his nostrils, hands flexing on the arms of the chair.

Not wasting another moment, as Cha’s fingers begin to dip below the edge of his pocket, you rush forward, quickly enough to get his attention but slowly enough that he easily overtakes you, lifting out his hand again to hold them both up in front of you defensively.

Your eyes dart behind him, to Namjoon. He’s still too far away for Namjoon to be able to kick out and reach him, so you take a bold step forward, internally cheering when Cha frowns and reflexively backs up in response.

“There’s no need for this nonsense,” you declare, barely aware of what you’re saying, your mouth on autopilot as you take a step closer. “I don’t want to take you down with force, but I will if it comes to that. Resisting will get you nowhere.” You step forward again.

Cha keeps shuffling backwards, eyeing you with a warning in his eyes. “I’m going to prison anyway, then,” he reasons, “it’s only right that my work is completed before I do.” His hand lowers again, and your heart races, body bringing you two steps forward in quick succession without thought.

The man stumbles back in shock, recoiling like you had jumped him, but frowns when his clear footsteps change sound, a tiny wet slap echoing in the workshop instead. He looks down dumbly, to where the excessive puddle of lighter fluid has splashed up his pant legs and soaked his shoes.

His eyes widen, and he looks up again at you in something akin to betrayal.

You wish you could signal to Namjoon that now was the time, but for some reason Namjoon’s foot ekes forward gingerly, like he’s testing out if he could reach. Instead, you keep your focus on the murderer. “Now you see, Giho? If you set the fire, you burn too.”

A second after it comes out of your mouth, you know it was the wrong thing to say.

His face curls up in a snarl, and he shoves his hand in his pocket, pulling out not a lighter or a box of matches, but a switchblade. You gasp and jump back reflexively at the glint of the blade, but he raises it with a growl, bringing it down faster than you can move out of his range for.

A line of fire runs across your forearm as you throw it up to defend you, and you let out a cry through gritted teeth at the deep cut. Cha lifts the dripping blade to charge at you again, but suddenly his hand goes lax and his mouth opens with a pained howl, sinking suddenly to the floor as his knee gives out from underneath him.

Once he hits the puddle of lighter fluid, sending drops all over your clothes, you look past his writhing body to Namjoon, whose leg is still held out in front of him, panting with worried eyes.

Frantically, you pick up the dropped knife, slippery in your grasp from your own blood, and you rush to Namjoon’s chair, slicing through the thick layers of tape, keeping one eye behind you at the man sobbing on the floor in agony, yelling intelligible insults and guttural curses.

The moment his hands are free, Namjoon rips away the tape over his mouth with a pained hiss, massaging the stinging skin. “Y/n, you-”

“Not now,” you interrupt brusquely, finally freeing him from the chair and grabbing his hand, tugging him away as fast as you can go.

Once the two of you leave into the kitchen, you shut the door to the workshop, dashing into the dining room to find a chair to slot under the doorknob, jamming it closed. In less than a minute, you’re out of the house and collapsing onto the frozen grass, cradling your injured arm and doing your best to maintain pressure on it, Namjoon ripping off his shirt and tearing it at the seams to form rough strips, which he binds and ties around the wound, apologising breathlessly when you scrunch up your face at the pain.

“Goodness, I’m so sorry, I have to, you’re bleeding so much, oh Jesus…”

Perhaps it’s the blood loss or the adrenaline that’s making you a little loopy, but you giggle hopelessly at the frightened look on his face.

Namjoon, with lips looking raw from the ripped tape, huffs down at you. “This is serious, Y/n, you could die, don’t laugh at me when I’m helping you!”

This strikes you as even funnier in your hazy mindset, and you keep giggling, hiccuping on dried tears, shivering violently under his gentle touch as the cold air wraps around you more tightly than the bandages on your arm.

“God, I… That was fucking wild in there, I can’t even...process it right now. But I- Are you with me? Y/n?”

You smile dopily at Namjoon, nodding. The rest of the scenery around him is swirling and your stomach lurches with a sickening voracity, but it’s okay when you look deep into his kind eyes and his open face. It’s okay when you have Namjoon beside you, because no matter how cold you are, your heart is burning like a furnace when you look at him and feel him.

He lets out a slow exhale, sitting down beside you with a strong palm on your back to stabilise your wobbling. “I’ve never been that scared in my life, I really thought I was going to die. And when I did, all I could think of was how much I hoped you’d still be okay. Because there is nothing I wouldn’t do to have you stay safe, to keep you safe. That guy pulled a knife on you, Y/n, he stabbed you, and all I could think of was how I wished it was me instead who got hurt. I don’t ever want to see you get hurt, I don’t think my heart can take it again. I- When I was in there, and he was waiting for you, and all I could smell was gasoline… I thought I was going to die, and it gave me a certain type of clarity, I guess. I could think clearly for the first time in a long time. And all I could think about was you. I’m in love with you, Y/n, hopelessly in love with you, and I know I said I’d wait until the case was fully closed and done with, and I will, of course I will, but I just couldn’t wait that long to tell you how deep my feelings go, I- God, am I even making sense right now? It must be the adrenaline, I feel- Y/n?”

You lean forward unsteadily, balancing yourself with a hand on his knee. He stares at you with wide eyes, caught off-guard by your sudden movement. Your grin has disappeared, replaced by a look of wonder. “Case closed,” you announce warmly.

He cocks his head. “What?”

“Case closed,” you repeat insistently, “just for now, case closed. So quick; kiss me before I pass out again.”

A smile tugs at his lips, and with no further persuasion needed, he dips his head forward, joining your lips in a tender kiss, foul-tasting from the lighter fluid but still so sweet. You feel yourself melt into him, pressing your upper body against him, and your eyes slip closed so that all of your other senses come to life with Namjoon, only Namjoon, everything Namjoon.

His hand rises to cup your face softly, and you grip his forearm like it’s an anchor, his lips moving against yours like the tides; constant fluidity with a calm power just beneath the surface, and you’re lost to it, caught in his riptide with no hope or desire to ever get out.

Colours swim behind your eyes, and your arm begins to go numb, fingers falling slack and dropping off his forearm. As an enveloping nothingness creeps into the corners of your mind, slowly pulling you from Namjoon, the last thing you’re aware of is the worried call of your name, before you fall into that black ocean.

TWO MONTHS LATER

Jin glances up at you with a start as you drop the heavy manila folder on his desk. His widened eyes drop to it, the fresh red ink stamped across the top, a thick rubber band holding countless slips of paper, photographs, typewritten transcripts and photocopies, all the written evidence and reporting of the case.

Your boss straightens up, like in the presence of someone important. “This it?” he questions simply, though his tone belies the significance of the item on his desk. You give a short nod, tamping down the smirk that threatens to tug at your lips. “And the online report?”

“Submitted,” you answer, unable to control the smug warmth in your voice.

Jin pats the top of the thick file fondly, eyes darting back up to you. “The families?”

“Notified,” you respond dutifully, though something keeps you slightly fidgety, absentmindedly massaging your forearm, feeling the raised line of the scar you were left with.

This doesn’t go unnoticed by the man swaying side to side on his office chair. His face softens, a tender smile emerging. “And young Mister Kim?”

Your hand goes still as you break his knowing gaze. “I- Well, I figured it would be best if I did a courtesy visit, just to, you know, talk it through properl-”

“It’s okay,” Jin cuts in, “I’m not going to lecture you. I really appreciate that you put this case first and kept...that on standby, but your obligation is over. As much as I hate to admit it, he’s a good one.”

You smirk, tilting your head playfully. “Is that your way of giving me permission, Kim Seokjin?”

A light blush tints the tips of his ears red as he splutters defensively. “God, no,” he scoffs, “if it were up to me, you’d stay pure and innocent forever.”

He breaks off to send you a salacious wink to let you know he’s joking around, and you laugh, turning to leave. Your hand rests on the doorknob of his office door before he speaks up again. “Y/n?”

“Yeah?” you reply without looking, opening the door and letting yourself hover half-inside, half-out.

Jin’s voice is warm, full of tender fondness that could only be cultivated by years of working side by side. “You’re my best girl, you know that?”

You flick him one last grin. “Right back atcha.”

He beams happily, and you’re already out of the office before you hear the offended cry of him processing your words.

Namjoon’s front door is open when you pull up, gravel crunching below your feet. Your first instinct is alarm, especially considering what went down the last time you were here, but it doesn't seem like anything ominous.

In fact, as you approach, you realise it's quite the opposite. A rich smell wafts out the open door, somewhat familiar yet unique scent that you can't quite put your finger on. You take a step inside, calling out his name, but recoil when, instead of the glossy wood of the entryway, your shoe lands on something soft and springy. You look down, eyes widening in bewilderment at the sight that greets you.

Piled at the front door and winding down and around the hallway are countless fresh rose petals, the same dusky pink shade that you recognise from his flower garden outside. Did he have someone over?

You call his name out again, but instead of a response, you strain your ear to hear a faint melodic hum, a honeyed tune that invites you in.

Leaving your coat and shoes at the door, you follow the trail of petals, careful not to step on any more. You find yourself smiling as you notice some of them with rips and tears at the base, others squished or bent, like he was in a hurry when deflowering the rose bushes.

Both the enticing smell and the dreamy humming crescendo the further along you follow the path of rose petals. They're leading you towards the workshop, through the living room and kitchen, but part of you knew that the moment you walked in the door. It was the heart and soul of the house, and it didn't surprise you that he was in there.

In fact, as your socked feet slip slightly on the smooth tiles of the kitchen, you pinpoint one of the delicate fragrances that fill the air. It's the scent of roses.

"Namjoon?" This time, as you call his name a third time, you open the door to the workshop further, and step inside, eyes searching. Although it's a strange mirror of the last time you were here, your heart is beating out of your chest for a different reason.

When you see him, it's like you're falling in love for the first time, though you've long since accepted over that long two months apart that you had been totally head over heels with him for a lot longer. But still, your heart swells, and you can't help but beam warmly at the sight that greets you.

Namjoon's so entirely engrossed in what he's doing that you don't think he even heard you, still lost in his own melody, something you begin to recall is from a romance movie or a ballet, classical and moving.

His tall figure is bent over the central island bench, using a massive tub with a spout to pour a dusky pink wax into several glass jars, the long, uncut wicks held upright with little metal rods that lie across the top of the jar. His biceps strain under his messy green t-shirt, and the hulking tub is almost the size of his torso, yet his hands don't shake the slightest, and he manages to fill each jar to the same height, about a couple centimetres below the rim, without pouring any over those metal rods. He works quickly, but even if it took him an hour you're convinced you would've happily stood there in awed silence the whole time, unwilling to disturb him.

His hummed tune stops, and he pours a single sample candle in focussed silence, before picking up a new train of notes, a composition you recognise as a Chopin tune, Nocturne-something, but a much lower version, coming from the resonance of his throat. As you watch him closely, his eyebrows move with the music, knitting together and lifting on the higher notes, a subconscious smile tugging at his closed mouth.

As he reaches the end of the rows of empty glasses, the molten wax in the tub running low, he loses track of the rhythm, diverting into his own stream of haphazard runs and melodies, something that's even more endearing to you. Fuck, you're smitten.

Finally, as he puts down the heavy tub on the concrete floor with a sigh, rolling his shoulders back and wiggling his fingers to relax the muscles, you clear your throat loudly, making him jump in his spot and whirl around, eyes widening at your presence.

"Y/n? You got here fast!"

Your smile falters, replaced by a look of confusion. "I... what?"

Namjoon seems to realise belatedly what he said, wincing at himself with a sheepish laugh. "Uh, maybe I got a call from a certain someone...saying to expect you..."

Jin. You nod. "Figures." But then, a thought strikes you, and you glance back the way you came, at the path of rose petals that leads away behind you like the tail of a comet. "So this is all for me?"

Namjoon's eyes are bright, no glasses to obstruct them. You tamp down a grin at the fond memory of his theory about not wearing his glasses while in the workshop, that his sense of smell was better with poor vision. It is so clear to you that every atom in him, every moment and every thought, was filled with nothing but love for his craft.

You want that love yourself, even just a fraction of it. To see if his hands would take as much care with you as with the production of those candles. To know if the sounds that left his throat then would be as melodic as his absent-minded humming.

You squeeze your eyes shut for a moment to return your mind to the present moment, where Namjoon's tender gaze is on you, eyes searching your face with an open vulnerability.

"Of course it's all for you," he says simply, and the casual intimacy of his comment runs shivers down your spine. "It's done, isn't it?" he questions. "It's over."

Your eyes crinkle with the warmth of your smile. You nod, not trusting your voice.

"Come here," he instructs gently, tilting his head down at the slowly cooling candles. As you approach the bench, he darts away, returning with a paper sticker stuck to his pointer finger. Picking a candle at random, he holds it level so as not to disrupt the wax, and wraps the sticker around the side of the glass, ensuring the corners are flat and snug against the curve. "Here, smell this. It's what I've been working on while the store was closed for the trial."

You're sure to handle the glass jar with as much care as he does when he gives it to you. You couldn't deny the hours you had spent at your desk, or in court, wondering what Namjoon was doing. Your higher-ups, the men Jin reported to, had deemed it necessary to temporarily shut down Moni's Candle Shop over the period of the trial, knowing the unsavoury publicity it might receive, and while increased footfall and news coverage proved them right, you knew it must have bothered Namjoon immensely to be separated from it for so long. It seemed at least he had been productive.

Without reading the label, you lift the opening to your nose, recoiling slightly when the overpowering scent hits your nostrils.

Namjoon laughs, placing a warm hand over your much smaller one, pressing down so that your face was at a safe enough distance from the candle. "Wax smells a lot stronger when heated," he explains with a laugh in his tone, "so maybe don't dip your nose in it."

You flick him a dry look, though you can't keep serious for longer than a moment, too focussed on the heavy weight in your hands. Sniffing, more delicately this time, your eyes slip shut in bliss as you breathe in the enveloping scent. Just one inhale eases your muscles, relaxes your brow, and brings a soft smile to your face.

The first thing you recognise is that perfumed sweetness of the rose, but it's deepened with hints of something incredibly familiar, something you just can't put your finger on, even as it makes your heart swell in your chest.

"What is that?" you question with a confused lilt to your voice, tentatively raising it higher inch by inch in the hopes that you'll finally get it.

Namjoon's eyes glitter; like he's forgotten until now, his hand suddenly shifts from resting on top of yours to cupped below, as he pulls your hand further away from your face, stretching your arm out and up. "Read the label," he replies instead, turning the glass jar around within your grasp, until the paper faces you. You feel his eyes on you as your expression changes with the carefully handwritten words.

"Namjoon..." you breathe, feeling yourself tear up a little, overwhelmed with the emotions that flooded your senses.

His fingers cover the corners, but you can still easily make out what it says.

He’s pulling the candle out of your hand gently, placing it back on the counter top, but you don’t look away from his face for a second. He’s avoiding your gaze like he’s shy, fiddling with a patch of dried wax on the hem of his shirt, but he looks up in surprise when you take a large step forward, enough for his hands to be trapped between you. He wiggles them out, where they awkwardly hover at his sides like he doesn’t know what to do with them. He looks so unsure of himself, yet his eyes are so earnest, that it melts you.

“Namjoon,” you repeat softly, “can I ask you a question too?”

He blinks once, taken off-guard. He nods silently, a tense, jerky movement.

A warm smile breaks across your face as you look up at him, at the man you’ve irrevocably fallen in love with. Your voice is barely louder than a whisper, but it doesn’t matter when you stand so close. “Will you kiss me?”

There’s a single moment that separates the two of you. A single moment where all the tension floods from his body. Where his mouth drops slightly open and his eyebrows lift in surprise. Where an involuntary sigh of relief leaves his parted lips.

And then those lips are on yours, and you’re apart no longer.

Namjoon kisses you like you’re more delicate than the glass of those jars, like you’re more precious than all the ingredients that line his shelves, like you mean the world to him, and it takes your breath away.

He kisses slow, every sliver of contact cherished and savoured, your face cupped between his palms, thumbs rubbing soothingly at your cheekbones as he tips your face up higher towards him, so he can breathe you in. With languid yet fevered movements, Namjoon deepens the kiss until your nerves are on fire, his body heat against you only adding to the blaze, the occasional slip of tongue sending jolts of electricity down your spine. You feel alive, more now than you have for years, and his scent and his taste and the murmur in his throat are the anchors that tie you to him, to this feeling.

Desperate to be closer, you reach up and fist handfuls of his shirt in your hands, the fabric warmed by his body, and tug him more securely against you. He reflexively drops a hand from your face to wrap his arm around your back, and tilts his head to the side slightly to intensify the kiss even further, raw need quickening the pace even as his lips stay soft and sensual against yours.

When he eventually pulls away to take a breath, the two of you are panting, and you can see his eyes are blown wide with desire, nothing but a narrow ring of rich brown around his dilated pupils.

You heart leaps at the way he keeps you pressed to him, cupping your face with a tender smile playing at his lips. “Yes,” you announce warmly.

His head tilts to the side. “Yes…? Yes what?”

Your grin stretches. “It’s the answer to your question.” You gesture with a tip of your chin to the slowly-solidifying candles. “Yes, I’ll be yours. So; will you be mine too?”

You think you could stay in this moment forever; snug in his warm embrace, lips still tingling from where he’s kissed you, cheek hot where his large palm rests. From the way he looks down at you, you imagine he feels quite the same.

“Oh, my love,” he assures softly, “I’ve been yours all along.”

[liberty-barnes]

Tom being in love with your baby niece

Tom Holland x Female!Reader

Prompt: You meet Tom at a hospital and he’s immediately infatuated with the little girl in your lap (inspired by this video I found on tiktok)

Warnings: F L U F F, Tom being amazing with kids, mentions of alcoholic/drug addict mother, mentions of child abandonment, but overall fluff and feel good story

Word Count: 2379 words (this was supposed to be short but oh well)

Estimated Reading Time: 9 minutes

A/N: me, sweating profusely: calm down, just finish writing this, you are stronger than your baby fever, you are too young to have a child CALM TF DOWN

Masterlist

So, funny story, you met at the hospital

Tom had dislocated his shoulder while doing a backflip *dejected sigh*

And you were just trying to keep your baby niece calm while waiting for the nurse to come get you

You were sitting on the bed, Tom was right next to you, only a curtain separating you

But there was a tiny crack near the end from where it was pulled too far

And when you pressed Olivia closer to your chest, her head resting on your shoulder, she made eye contact with him

He saw her tear-filled eyes

(broke his heart)

So he started to make funny faces at her

Which made her start to giggle and coo and make grabby hands towards him

You turned around, visibly confused because hellooo she was just crying a second ago and now she’s???laughing???

And then you saw him

oh shit he’s hot

He smiled at you

You smiled back, cause what else are you supposed to do?

He got up and pushed the curtains back 

And sat on the chair instead

Still on his side of the curtain

But looking at you straight in the eye now

“So... what’s a pretty girl like you doing in a nasty place like this?”

Poor boy thought he was smooth

But he rested his weight on his injured arm

(that idiot) 

And it lead to him hissing in pain and cradling his shoulder with a pout while you laughed

“Fell down the stairs and twisted my ankle. You?”

“Dislocated my shoulder while doing a backflip.”

Meanwhile Liv was now resting on your lap

Looking at him with a smile on her face

And clapping while he smiled at made funny faces at her again

But then he noticed you were watching

And he was kinda making a fool of himself in front of you

(cue the blushing)

(so cute)

So you decided to help him out a little

"Thanks for putting her in a good mood again."

"No problem... is she yours?"

He didn't want to seem rude so he kept the judgment out of his voice, but you seemed a bit young to have a kid already.

"Nah, she's my niece"

"Oh, okay... Why'd you bring her to the hospital with you? It must be hard having to take care of a kid and get your ankle checked."

You looked a bit sad for a while.

"My sister left her with me as soon as I turned eighteen. My parents were never in the picture so it's been me and her for almost a year now."

"I'm sorry..."

"'S okay. Besides, at least I'm not alone all the time you now? I mean, it's hard to take care of a 13 month-old, but at least I know she won't grow up like I did... afraid... wondering if her mom was gonna come home drunk or half-dressed with another guy on her tail, wishing her sister would let her sleep on the bed instead of locking herself up with her boyfriend there."

He watched you smile as you looked down at the little girl in your arms that seemed to be a perfect reflection of you.

That was the moment he fell in love with you

Dark circles under your eyes and all

He got your number (yay!!) and had to work (read: pester you) for two weeks before you agreed to go out on a date with him.

Liv stayed with Harrison (after you checked that he was a good babysitter)

He took you to a nice little restaurant near the beach

They served giant burgers

Which you liked at lot

Conversation was easy 

He asked you what you were currently doing

"I'm working as a waitress in a little diner downtown."

He also found out you were doing online college to get your creative writing degree.

You told him about your family life. 

How your dad died in a car accident when you were three. 

How your mom was an alcoholic junkie and OD'd when you were fifteen.

How your nineteen-year-old sister had to take care of you for there on out. 

How she left soon after you graduated high school and left you with a three-month-old baby to take care of.

In turn, he told you all about his life

How he became an actor and got his big break as Spider-Man

He told you about his family and how much he misses them

How thankful he is to have Haz with him

You excused yourself to the bathroom just before dessert

And that bastard took advantage of that tiny window to pay the bill

You scolded him for that obviously

And tried to pay him back

He laughed and said no

Then he bought you a giant cotton candy

"Tom, seriously I can pay for my own stuff."

"I know but I like spoiling you."

You finished the cotton candy together while strolling down the beach

Then once it was done he threw out the cone and took your hand

The sun was just setting so it was like a picture-perfect moment

So he took advantage of that and kissed you

(so cliche)

You tasted like strawberry from your chapstick

The cotton candy you just had

You tasted like sweetness

And comfort

And home

You started dating officially not long after that

And that's when it all really started

You knew he was good with kids

That first day at the hospital told you as much

But you didn't expect him to be this good

Olivia was very much in love with him

They were practically glued at the hip

She constantly wanted hugs from him

He took her to the park and threw her up in the air while she squealed in delight

He picked her up and carried her while you were making dinner so she didn't feel left out

She sat on his back while he did push-ups

He'd kiss her nose every time he did a sit-up

They would have kissing contests

He kissed her cheek

She kissed his back 

Then he kissed hers again

And so on

Her first word was Tommy

You'd never seen him so happy

You, on the other hand, were not

"I raised you on my own ever since you were three months old and this is the thanks I get?"

They'd often fall asleep together on the couch

Your camera roll was full of photos of them sleeping

Her favorite thing to do was grab him by the sides of his head and kiss his curls

(a d o r a b l e)

He helped you plan the perfect birthday party for her

"Only the best for my best girl"

"I thought I was your best girl"

"Only the best for either of my best girls but in this case the youngest one"

She loved it

You're pretty sure he loved it more

But who can say for sure?

On your six month anniversary, he told you he loved you and that he had no plans on ever leaving you two.

He forced you to quit your job at the diner

"You're overworking yourself. I have more than enough money to take care of all of us and that way you'll be able to focus on your studies and travel with me since you do online college. Everybody wins."

So you went wherever he went

Including filming for Infinity War/Endgame

He took you to set one day

Everybody loved you

But as always, Olivia stole the show

They passed her around like a little doll

She loved the attention

It was quite funny seeing such a tiny baby being held by the mountain of a man that is Chris Hemsworth

She only referred to Chris Evans as 'Cap'

And Robert would forever be 'Tony'

But they didn't mind one single bit

"She just looks so cute when she says it, I can't be mad at her."

You met his family when the filming ended and he went back to London

Dom was ecstatic to finally have a little girl to take care of

"At least she laughs at my jokes, not like those idiots"

"You can leave her with us whenever you want"

Nikki was very happy to have one more girl in her corner

"I swear, if I hear one more second of golf talk, I'll go nuts"

Harry loved taking pictures of Liv

"She's just so photogenic, it's so easy"

You learned a lot of recipes from Sam

"Finally someone that won't wreck my kitchen and taint my food's good name"

Paddy liked playing with Liv and Tessa in the backyard

"It's nice to take care of someone for a change, I'm always the one being babied"

You made your relationship public while you were in London, a year and a half after you started dating

The public loved you

Because he just couldn't help but brag

And Tom with kids is the content the fans live for

tomhotland: omgggg they're so cuteee

spideysbae: the heart eyes thoooo

peterpprotectionsquad: i hereby declare that Olivia is the cutest baby to have ever existed and she must be protected at all costs

He took you to the Far From Home premiere

Your dress matched his suit

The fans went crazy

Olivia was living her best life in her little red and black dress

She'd gotten used to the flashes after Harry's numerous photoshoots

So she was just smiling and clapping a lot

The paparazzi loved her

The interviewers kept asking about you two

"(Y/N)'s the love of my life and Olivia's the sweetest baby I've ever known, I couldn't love her more if she was my own"

"So, do I hear wedding bells ringing?"

"Well, you never know"

That caught your attention for a second but you let it go in favor of posing with Liv after the paps all but begged you to

"Livvy say bye-bye"

She sent a kiss a said bye-bye in all her baby glory

They awed so much

His Instagram was filled with pictures of the three of you

Zendaya took a bunch of selfies with her as well

"Our dresses match, I have no choice"

She kept pretty quiet during the movie

But hugged Tom especially hard when she saw him cry on the big screen

The next morning, you were all over the headlines

"The sweetest little family in Hollywood"

On your third anniversary, he took you on a week-long trip to Bora Bora

Liv stayed with his parents

He took you on a walk to the beach

(déjà vu much?)

And proposed

Clumsily, but he proposed

How can a proposal be clumsy, you ask?

Well, he kneeled on a rock at first

"Ow! Fuck my knee, hold on a second"

Then he kept stuttering because he was so nervous

And in the end (after you said yes and he checked about five times cause "Wait seriously?") he started freaking out cause the ring didn't fit

But she wears the ring I used as a reference all the time!

"Um, Tom?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"The ring's supposed to go on my other hand..."

Ah, that explains it

The wedding was simple but beautiful

Livvy was the flower girl cause she wanted to throw petals in the air

Tessa brought the rings

His heart almost stopped when he saw you walk down the aisle

He was convinced you'd never looked more beautiful than that day at the premiere when your clothes matched 

But right now, looking at your smile and how gorgeous you looked in that dress, he realized he was wrong

He sniffled, trying to hold his tears, but Haz just handed him a tissue

"I came prepared"

You two adopted Liv

She was your daughter anyway, you just made it official

She started calling you 'mommy' and 'daddy'

"She called me 'daddy'."

Oh, the tears

To Tom's great delight, she started picking up a British accent, as she grew

It didn't help that she stayed at Nikki and Dom's all the time when you started teaching at a university in London

So they dialed they're British-ness up to eleven so she'd pick up on the accent

"Mummy, what's for pudding?"

Good Lord

After two years of trying, you found out Tom was unable to have kids

He cried a lot, and felt like he failed

You shut him up with a kiss and immediately mentioned adoption

"There are hundreds of children begging for a home and parents to love them."

You adopted an eight-year-old boy named Lucas and his five-year-old sister Cleo

Olivia loved having another girl her age

They had tea parties

And played dress-up

And forced Lucas to play the prince

You taught them to bake so they could have cookies for their tea party

And Tom found himself often ambushed in one of their games

"No, daddy, you gotta pretend that the big bad dragon took you so we can save you."

They rolled around on the floor and made 'pew pew' noises to imitate guns

Lucas was always quieter

He was your little angel

You two were very close

He shared your love for writing and literature

As well as cooking, to Uncle Sam's greatest delight

You often sat down on the couch, the five of you (and Tessa, obviously) and someone read a book out loud, while the others just laid back and listened

Cleo became very interested in Uncle Harry's camera and took a bunch of photos of her sister and her dad with the polaroid camera she got for her seventh birthday

Olivia still loved the attention and remained the bright and photogenic child she'd always been

She became a model, to no one's surprise

Cleo became a freelance photographer, which allowed her to fulfill her dream of traveling the world while taking pictures and earning good money

Lucas became one of Hollywood's best and brightest screenwriters

But everyone still made time for each other

Attending every single one of Liv's fashion shows

Every time Cleo showcased her pictures in a gallery, they were the first ones there

All of Lucas' films

Going to all of Tom's premieres and wearing matching clothes, per Liv and Cleo's request

"It's for the aesthetic"

Everyone was happy

And life was good

i’m pretty happy now, ngl

i need a Tom in my life

[bordeleaubeau]

when worlds collide - ryder donovan

chapter one wc: 5167

“and y/n, you’re paired with ryder.” mrs. wilson smiles as she reads off the final pairing of partners, and you can feel the color draining from your face. you turn to your left, looking over a few rows towards where ryder donovan sat. a near stranger right now, but he sure as hell wouldn’t be in a few days. “okay. so i just ask that everyone pairs up with their assigned partner and you sit together, and then i’ll go over the rules, got it?” 

the once silent classroom is then filled with the noises of chairs screeching against the tiled floor. your classmate, juliana who sits next to you, lets out a sigh. “well, good luck with ryder, y/n. you’ve sure hit the jackpot. make sure no girls steal your partner, okay?”

you give her a look as she grabs her book bag, standing up from her desk that was right besides yours. “yeah well, chances are i’m gonna be doing all the work. so yeah, lucky me right?” you roll your eyes. juliana gives you one last pitiful look before she’s off to her partner. 

you’re reaching down to pick up the strap of your book bag, but you glance up and see the blonde headed boy heading over in your direction already. you let your bookbag fall to the floor, and in a few short seconds ryder is taking the spot juliana had once sat in. 

“i’m y/-”

ryder cuts you off, a half smirk on his face. “i know who you are, smarty pants. no need to introduce yourself.” he says, placing his book bag down on his desk. “man, what even is this project.”

and it seems mrs. wilson hears him from across the room. “good question, mr. donovan. so as you’ve observed, i’ve placed you in male to female partnerships for this project. and i know you’ll all probably be ready to kill me after this, but i think it’s going to open your eyes to the real world.” you and ryder are already exchanging nervous glances with each other. “the baby project.” immediately, there are groans from all around the room, and your teacher starts to talk over them. “my job is to basically teach you to stay abstinent. and there’s no better way to teach you than this project. you and your partner will be a couple for the next two weeks - you can be ‘separated,’ ‘divorced,’ whatever you want. but you’re taking care of a child together. you have to maintain the ‘happiness’ of the child whenever he or she may start to cry by using a designated key. but failure to stop the crying after multiple attempts will result in an automatic five percentage deduction from your grade. now, choose between yourselves to decide who comes to pick up your baby.”

you and ryder are both blankly staring at each other, mouths dropped open wide. you’re sure nearly every girl in the class is jealous of you and for reasons you can quite clearly tell. ryder was attractive, smart, and a crazy level of popular. but that’s what you get as your school’s hockey team captain, right?

“uh,” ryder mumbles, eyes glancing down at the pencil he’s fumbling in his hand. “i’ll go pick up, the uh-”

“the doll, ryder. it’s not real. no need to get so spooked out,” you cut him off, letting out a huff as you lean back in the chair. ryder wordlessly nods and gets up from his seat and goes up to the front of the room. 

you’re minding your own business, pulling your phone out of your pocket when you feel a tap on your shoulder. you turn to see keira bradley, the captain of the girl’s lacrosse team. “so, y/n,” she smiles sweetly, placing her hand on your shoulder. you don’t have the heart in you to shrug it off, even if you’ve spoken maybe three words to the girl in all of high school. “cute outfit today! that color blue really brings out your skin tone. well, anyway, i was wondering to you maybe wanna switch part-”

“not happening, keira,” you hear ryder’s voice, and for once you’re grateful for it. keira lets out a huff. “nice try, though.” 

when keira turns back around, you look over at ryder. “what, wanna stick with a partner that’ll end up doing the whole project for you? strategic, donovan. real strategic.” you mumble, leaning back in your seat once again. 

“that’s not what-“ ryder sighs. “i just don’t think we should switch. mrs. wilson gave us our partners for a reason. but anyway, i think we have a girl, and then this is our worksheet for her name and stuff.”

you take the paper from ryder’s grasp, glancing over the questions you have to answer throughout your time with the baby. at the top, you write down yours and ryder’s names, stopping when there’s a spot for your baby’s name. “what do you wanna name her?” 

“uhh, what about, uh just saylor?” ryder looks up at you for approval after his suggestion of the pretty name. you shrug, writing down ‘just saylor’ down on your paper. “oh come on, smart ass,” ryder lets out a laugh, grabbing your pencil and paper away and erasing the ‘just’ you had written. you see his eyes lingering on the last name you had written for your fake baby. “hey, i like that last name.” he smirks, referring to the fact that you had written donovan.

“you did say ‘just saylor,’” you mock ryder, a soft smirk on your face as your eyes go back up to your teacher standing in the front of the room, trying your very hardest at ignoring the blush on your cheeks.

“so!” mrs. wilson exclaims, regaining attention from your class. “i don’t expect you guys to be together twenty-four seven. that’s not realistic as high schoolers. but i’d hope you both put in effort. maybe one of you has the baby one day, the other has it another and you alternate. but you have fourteen days.” ryder sighs, his hand raising and waiting for mrs. wilson to nod in his direction. “yes, ryder.”

“mrs. wilson, i have hockey like, every day. and games. home and away. i’d feel bad leaving y/n to do all of that.” you hate all of the eyes that turn to look at you. normally, you loved mrs. wilson and you looked forward to her class. but right now? you were ready to drop dead. as if the looks from the girls weren’t deadly enough already. they’d kill to be in your position. 

mrs. wilson smiles at you sweetly, and you know you’re in for a treat. “well, miss l/n is a sweet girl. i’m sure she wouldn’t mind going to a few of your games, right y/n?”

you force a smile, “right, mrs. wilson.” 

“but, ryder, i do appreciate your dedication to your team,” mrs. wilson adds on before she looks back up at the clock. “we can end here for the day. if you aren’t familiar with your partner, get to know them. if not, feel free to do whatever with your free time.”

ryder puts your project worksheet in his binder and you put your pencil away, leaving you to simply tap your fingers against your desk seeing as there wasn’t a point in taking out your phone. 

“so,” ryder speaks up pulling your attention away from your desk. “i can have her for the night. we had practice this morning so i can take care of her. and then you can just meet me at my locker tomorrow morning and we can switch off, and then you can go to my game tomorrow night and we can switch. how does that sound?” 

if you’re being honest, you’re skeptical. sure, you’ve talked to ryder here and there throughout your four years of school together, but as ryder got more and more popular the less and less the two of you talked. but you didn’t really have a choice - and you never really did talk in the first place. you didn’t even think he really knew who you were let alone your name.

“yeah, that sounds good. it shouldn’t be a problem.”

ryder gives you a smile just as the bell rings signalling the end of your class. “great. i’ll see you tomorrow morning then, y/n.” ryder picks up the baby carrier your fake doll is in and he slings his bookbag over his shoulder. you watch as he walks out, meeting up with a few of his teammates while you’re left to wallow in the thoughts of what’s going to be the worst two weeks of your life. 

-----------

“so you’re telling me you got paired with the ryder donovan. for a baby project. where he’s literally your baby daddy!” kennedy has no sense of an indoor voice as she basically screams in the cafeteria, her eyes wide and her palms pressed flat down on the table. “y/n! this is huge!” 

you roll your eyes at your best friend as you take a sip from your water. “you’re ridiculous, kenna. you sure you don’t wanna trade places with me? it’s just a project. it’ll be over in two weeks and then he’ll forget i ever even existed.” 

“or! or, you two realize you’re meant to be and you fall in love, just like you were always destined to be.” kennedy lets out a sigh of bliss, her chin resting in the palm of her hand as she gazes past your body with a soft smile on her face. 

“classic ken. hopeless romantic, as per usual,” josie says from beside you. you nod at her before looking back at kennedy who’s now pouting. 

“sorry i’m the optimistic one out of all of us. someone has to be,” the blonde mumbles, ducking her head as she continues to eat her food. 

you let out a sigh. of course you didn’t intend to make her feel bad, but sometimes kennedy got into her own head and made up her own fantasies. you would know, seeing as you had dealt with it since you were eight years old. “kenny, i just don’t wanna get my hopes up. with a boy like ryder, i’m lucky if i even end up as his friend after this whole thing is over. time will tell, alright? but until then, i need you girls with me at his hockey games.” 

kennedy’s eyes widen right away and you smile, knowing you’d get that reaction out of her. “like-like, logan anderson’s games too?” she sputters out, the fork in her hand falling onto the lunch table.

josie cracks up, “he plays on the hockey team, doesn’t he ken? and because he’s ryder’s best friend chances are when we wait for ryder after the game, logan will be with him too, and you can finally make your move.”

“yeah, you’re funny.” kennedy mumbles. “as if i’d ever make a move on logan? you’re funny, jose. really funny.” 

“oh come on, kenny! you two would be adorable. and if your far fetched fantasy of ryder and i getting together comes true, imagine all of the double dates we could go on!” you exclaim, your hand reaching across the wooden lunch table to rest on kennedy’s arm. she finally begins to smile. “there’s that smile!”

“okay, we’ll see, okay? just, it’s logan. i don’t wanna make a fool out of myself.” she admits sheepishly.

josie lets out a sigh, “well we’ll make sure you don’t and you’ll get the boy.”

-----------

later that night, you’re sitting at the kitchen table eating dinner with your mom, dad and your brother, william. “so, honey, how was school?” your mom asks, looking up at you from across the table.

you shrug, “well, i have a baby.” you say straight up, causing both of your parents to nearly start choking on their food. your dad goes to open his mouth to give you a piece of his mind, but you beat him to it. “please don’t freak. it’s a fake baby for my child development class. i’m partnered up with ryder donovan.”

your dad blows out a breath at the mention of ryder’s name, as he was the head coach for denfeld’s hockey team - aka east’s rival school. why you went to east, you couldn’t quite say. “now that’s something,” your father admits, mumbling down towards his plate. “so, tell us more. where’s the baby?”

“we’re doing a rotating schedule with it. he has it one day and then we’ll switch off. speaking of which, ryder needs me to go to their game tomorrow night so when i get the baby tomorrow i can give her to him that night,” you speak, looking at your dad for his reaction. you can’t quite read it.

whenever denfeld played east you always told your dad you were rooting for his team, but in reality you were actually rooting for your school. but you wouldn’t tell him that. but tomorrow night, now you would really have to root for east seeing as you wouldn’t want a grumpy ryder - and logan - after the game.

“well that’s gonna be something,” your little brother, william, spoke up from beside you. “y/n, it’s your turn for dishes tonight, by the way.”

after you finish eating and putting away all the dishes, you go up to your bedroom to see you have a few snapchats from none other than ryder donovan himself. you sit down on your bed and situate yourself before pressing on his name.

‘saylor misses her mommy’ was across one of the photos, where ryder had a forced pout on his face as he held your fake child. another one had ‘she won’t stop crying’ with his hand in the middle of running through his hair. finally there was one of him smiling, ‘just kidding, she finally stopped:)’ across it. 

you snap back a picture of yourself smiling with a thumbs up, ‘you’re a natural dono. if our baby is still in one piece by tomorrow morning i’ll be surprised’.

ryder sends back a photo of his mouth dropped open, ‘not cool, y/n/n. but anyway, what’s your number? it’s easier talking about this over text, not snap.’

you send ryder your phone number, and only a short few seconds later you get a text from an unknown number.

(218)-xxx-xxxx hey it’s ryder 

y/n:  i couldn’t have figured that out on my own or anything

rydes dono:  oh shut up. i just wanted to check up on my baby mama 

y/n:  i am not your baby mama, donovan.

rydes dono: well, you kinda are. anyway, meet me at my locker at 7? you know where it is right?

y/n: how could i miss it, you’ve got your own fan club of girls at your locker every morning.

rydes dono: oh lighten up, they all annoy me anyway. clara is bugging me to shoot around with her, so i’ll talk to you later?

y/n: yeah for sure.

to say the least, you fall asleep with a smile on your face and you pretty much wake up to it still spread across your face. you roll over, turning your alarm off before scrolling through your phone where you see you have a text message from ryder. 

rydes dono: good morning y/n/n, remember, meet me at my locker 

y/n: morning dono. really think i forget? or do you wanna get rid of saylor that bad

rydes dono:  just thought you’d forget.

you roll your eyes with a smile even though ryder can’t see you, and you leave it at that. you throw on a pair of black leggings and a baggy umd quarter zip sherpa along with a pair of low top converse. you grab your bookbag from the corner of your room and start to head downstairs, grabbing your car keys from the island counter in the kitchen.

“william! let’s go!” you yell, and only a mere few seconds later you hear the fifteen year old running down the stairs in the middle of fixing his tie that he had to wear on game day. 

“sorry, sorry,” william mumbles, looking up at your figure where you’re impatiently waiting for him. “okay, let’s go. what are you waiting for?”

you give your little brother a look before he’s following you out of the house and down to your car. you take the short ten minute drive to school, taking a five minute delay to get caribou for yourself and william, not bothering to get any for kennedy and josie as they had almost always gotten caribou for themselves as well.

“excited for tonight?” you ask, glancing over at william at a red light. “it’s your first game playing against dad. how you feelin’, bud?”

william looks up from his phone, his eyes widening slightly. “i’m a little nervous, not gonna lie. there’s a big difference in my game from last season to this season, and i don’t think dad has realized that just yet.”

you nod your head listening to him talk. william had been the hot shot freshman coming up that the entire coaching staff was excited for. william had just been cut short from the varsity team in 8th grade, but worked his butt off the entire summer. after his coach mike randolph at east saw his performance at summer tourneys, the excitement for the incoming freshman was surreal. as much as you hated to say it, they hadn’t been this excited for a freshman since ryder donovan.

“you just gotta kick his ass. and stay humble, too please. i don’t wanna be the girl with the idiotic brother, okay?” you say and william lets out a laugh but he stills nods. you know he would never do anything stupid, but still, it wouldn’t hurt to say anything. 

you pull into your parking spot, and almost immediately william jumps out to meet up with some of his teammates, which of course happen to be upperclassmen since william was the only freshman on the team - or rather, the only freshman that actually got ice time.

“bye y/n! have a good day!” william smiles, waving over his shoulder at you with a smile on his face.

“bye will, have a good day too. i’ll see you tonight at the game, buddy.” you watch as will walks away with his teammates leaving you to walk into the school alone. that was normal for game days, as soon as will saw some of his teammates he was gone. but you were okay with it, seeing as he had made such a close bond with his teammates regardless of how much younger he was.

once you get inside you head towards the senior locker bank, checking your phone to see that it was 6:59, and there wasn’t a single bone in your body that would doubt the fact ryder would give you shit for being even a minute late. you can see his locker even from all the way down the hallway. there’s probably about four girls there this morning, one being keira bradley from your childhood development class.

you have a tight lipped smile on your face as you approach the small group, where ryder, logan and ricky are standing with the girls. as soon as ryder sees you, a smile forms on his face. keira notices the smile and turns over her shoulder, her flirty smile turning into a grim one as she sees you.

“don’t worry, i’m just here for our baby,” you say rather awkwardly, trying to make your way to ryder. “morning, dono.”

“morning, y/n/n. here’s saylor,” ryder says, but then he unzips his bookbag and pulls out a sweatshirt. “and for the game tonight. gotta let everyone know who my baby mama is.” the smirk that’s on his face it lets you know he knows exactly what he’s doing. 

“oh my god, ryder,” you mumble, taking the sweatshirt from his hands with blushing cheeks. “i’ll see you in child dev.”

“see you, y/n/n,” he’s biting his lip slightly after he says it, only adding on to the blush of your cheeks as you walk away, trying to ignore the conversation between him and his friends. 

you walk towards your locker, holding saylor’s carrier in one hand and ryder’s hockey sweatshirt and your coffee in your other hand, that you’re sure has his name and number on the back judging by his comment. when you get to your locker kennedy and josie are already standing there waiting for you, and of course they both have caribou in their hands as well. 

“what is that!” kennedy screeches for way too loud at 7 in the morning, pointing right at ryder’s sweatshirt in your hand. “and why are you blushing!”

you lift your hand to cover your face with the hand that’s holding ryder’s sweatshirt and go towards your locker, only lowering your hand when you have to set the coffee on the top of your locker and placing the baby carrier on the ground. you put in your combo and right before you open it, you show josie and kennedy the back of the sweatshirt, donovan and the number 22 pressed on it.

“no fucking way, y/n,” josie says, reaching out to touch the sweatshirt like it wasn’t real. “do you know what this means, y/n?”

you give josie a weird look, and before you can respond kennedy beats you to it. “y/n/n. logan has told me before ryder doesn’t give anyone his sweatshirts. let alone his team one. or his jersey. are you sure he doesn’t have a crush on you?”

“there is no way he likes me,” you scoff, folding the sweatshirt and placing it in your locker for when you grab it at the end of the day. you grab your binders for your first few classes and put them in your bookbag before shutting it and turning to your best friends that are giving you looks. “what?”

“i think ryder likes you!” kennedy sings, and you’re quick to shush her to shut her up. her mouth closes immediately.

“we don’t need that spreading around, kens. that’s probably the last thing ryder would want, especially when pretty much everyone knows my dad coaches denfeld and i constantly get shit for it.” the three of you then begin to walk towards your respective homerooms.

“speaking of denfeld,” josie smiles, “how’s our secret favorite l/n? is he excited for tonight? nervous?”

you sigh, but there’s a happy smile on your face. “he’s a little bit of both for sure. he’s gonna feel bad no matter what tonight, and there’s gonna be someone that loses. it’s the first time will’s played against our dad’s team, so i guess we’ll just see what happens tonight.”

“something tells me ryder is gonna make sure he has a killer night, y/n/n.” kennedy says. “there’s no way he doesn’t. those two set each other up like, every game. mostly all of ryder’s points are because of william and most of william’s points are because of ryder.”

you shrug as the three of you finally reach your homeroom, “well, we’ll see tonight, yeah? see you at lunch, girls.”

-----------

when you walk into your child development class, the first thing you notice is that ryder is sitting in the desk next to you just like he was before class ended the day prior. it’s like he has a second sense when you walk into the room, and right away he looks up and gives you a smile. you try to bite back your smile as you sit in your seat, setting down your baby carrier down on the tiled floor. 

“how’s she been today? she didn’t give me a lot of trouble last night, only a little bit here and there,” ryder asks, leaning back in his chair and looking over at you.

“she’s been an angel. i think she may be broken,” you joke, glancing down at the baby in your carrier. that’s for the better, too, even if it feels impossible peeling your eyes away from ryder when he’s dressed up for game day and looking as good as he does. 

ryder shoots you a boyish smile, one that nearly makes your stomach do flips and you have to look to the front of the classroom to prevent yourself from blushing. “nah, pretty sure you’re just that good as her mother.”

“ryder donovan, what am i gonna do with you?” you let out a breath as you speak, and you’re practically saved by the bell as mrs. wilson begins to talk after the bell rings.

“good morning guys! hope you all had a good first night being new parents and i hope there weren’t too many complications. does anyone have any questions?” she asks, surveying the room to see if any hands shoot up. she nods when she doesn’t see any. “great. now can we go by group by group and share one thing we learned about your baby? who wants to go first?”

as if he couldn’t be more of a mr. perfect, ryder raises his hand and mrs. wilson nods in his direction. “it’s a pretty good replica of an actual baby and they’re just as sensitive. and rocking them also helps to stop them from crying, it’s not just trying to figure out which key helps with what.”

“very good ryder, that’s spot on.” you even have to say you’re impressed by ryder’s answer, turning to give him an impressed look, in turn you receive a smug smile from him.

you listen as one person from each group that had their baby for the night says what they learned or observed, until finally everyone in the classroom gives their answers. “okay, so here’s the part two to this project.” immediately there’s a few groans coming from around the room. “yeah, i know. but this part is a little bit more fun. because you’re supposed ‘teen parents’ you’re going to have a tighter budget than normal. you have to make do with eight hundred and fifty dollars. all fictional, of course. and make a budget of what you need for your newborn baby. and that includes a stroller, a highchair, a crib, diapers, anything you could possibly need for a baby.”

you and ryder both turn to look at each other. “is she serious right now?” ryder mumbles, glancing up towards mrs. wilson before looking back at you.

“i guess she is.” you sigh, crossing your arms over your chest as mrs. wilson begins to explain the second half of your project.

“do you think it would just be easier if one of us just goes to the other’s house?” ryder leans over to ask you quietly and you shrug. “that’s not a response, y/n.”

“well you always have hockey, donovan. one of us is gonna end up doing this entire portion by themself.” it’s not that you’re blaming ryder and his hockey schedule, because you’re not, it was just a bit annoying that the project was planned during the most hectic sports season at your school.

“i’m sorry, y/n. if we’re away for the weekend and you have her for multiple days i’ll make up for it, i promise,” ryder whispers, noticing the glances mrs. wilson is giving the two of you that’s silently telling you to stop talking. 

“now, let’s talk some extra credit.” all of the ears of the kids who needed a grade boost suddenly perk up, including ryder, who’s eyebrows raise. “you can make a family scrapbook. all you have to do is make a slideshow, put pictures of you and your little family and present it in front of the class if you so choose. like i said, it’s only extra credit and it isn’t necessary, but, it’s definitely a little more fun to do.”

“we’re doing that,” ryder whispers as quietly as he can, leaning in closer than he had before. “i have a high c in here and i need to get it up to a b.” 

you nod your head not risking mrs. wilson giving the two of you another warning look as she finishes explaining everything, which ends up taking up the rest of the class.

“so i’m gonna see you tonight, right?” ryder asks as he slings his bookbag over his shoulder. 

“of course, wouldn’t miss it for the world, donovan,” you smile at him, slinging your own bookbag over your back and picking up your baby carrier. as if on cue, saylor begins to cry and your eyes widen. “rydes.”

ryder turns around at the sound of not only the wail of his name, but also the robotic pre recording cry of the baby. “y/n, just pick her up. have you ever taken care of a child before?”

you sheepishly shake your head. you and william were so close in age you didn’t ever take care of him when he was a baby and you don’t remember him being a baby since you were so young. ryder steps in close to you, picking up saylor and positioning her in your arms. 

“just like that,” ryder mumbles, reaching into the carrier to grab the set of keys that would assist in stopping the crying. “i fed her this morning, so she probably needs a dirty diaper change.” ryder mumbles to himself, grabbing the yellow colored key and holding it over the baby’s chest where the sensor was. and just like that, she stops crying. 

“how are you so good at this?” you whine, placing saylor back in the carrier and covering her with a blanket. ryder shrugs, a shy smile on his face.

“i have four other siblings, y/n. i may be the forgotten middle child, but i picked up a few things with my younger siblings.” ryder says, helping you cover up saylor, your hands brushing over each other’s. the warning bell rings, and that’s when you realize your chances of being late to lunch are now extremely high. you look up at the clock and curse under your breath. “what’s up, y/n/n?”

“just gonna be late to lunch, that’s all. kennedy probably stole my seat,” you roll your eyes, picking up the carrier as the two of you begin to make your way out of the classroom. but your eyes catch mrs. wilson, and the younger teacher grins at you, making you smile shyly with blushing cheeks.

to say the least, she knew what she was doing. 

“lunch? try econ with gates, if i’m late to his class i’m gonna have detention for a week.”

you shrug your shoulders, “better get running then, dono, or your ass is grass.”

“yeah, yeah. i’ll see you tonight, y/n. and you better be wearing my sweatshirt.” ryder says and he begins to walk the other way. “oh, and y/n?” ryder asks, and you turn around to see him walking backwards so he’s facing you. “ don’t forget to tell your dad they’re going down tonight.”

chapter two

[miraculouscontent]

Askplosion #12 3/4:

.:Asks Referring to Previous non-Miraculous Posts:.

Anonymous said:

Hi! I saw you mention that you have Asperger’s syndrome in an earlier post. I’m just wondering, how did you find out? I’ve always thought I was neurodivergent (adhd and maybe asperger’s), but I’m not quite sure how to go about finding out, and my parents never had me screened as a kid. Feel free to ignore if this is too personal!

(the post this anon is referring to)

It’s not too personal, don’t worry!

Though, I would really say that it’s something to look up more than for someone to tell you. I know that’s not a satisfying answer but I think it’s different depending on where you live and what specialists you have near you.

Anonymous said:

Remarried Empress Anon Again, a whole post? What an honor! I burnt my food and this made me so happy.

(the post this anon is referring to)

You deserve it! Thanks a bunch!

Anonymous said:

Remarried Empress Anon Again, thank you for answering my asks and for reading Remarried Empress! I honestly didn’t expect much to come of it but the fact you read the comic and saw what I was talking and came to your own conclusions was amazing! I’m sorry if I’m bothering you by bombarding you with asks, and will try to stop doing so. Heck, this doesn’t have to be answered! Just know you are a fun creator and thank you for making my day a little better with your amazing responses!

You weren’t bothering me at all! I’m glad I brightened your day!

asexual-individual said:

I don't know how big the trend of "Magical Girls are made to suffer" is, but after watching Madoka Magica I did notice a few Magical Girl shows where the creators obviously went "Hey, this anime where the Magical Girls suffer and it's all angsty made Shaft a lot of money, let's do our own", and "subversive=money". (Even though many have pointed out that MM isn't actually subversive, since older MG shows have dealt with dark themes plenty of times.)

Yeah, it’s probably one of those inevitable things. People immediately jump on wherever the money’s going.

Madoka Magica probably got so much attention specifically because of the episode three shock value.and all the twisted imagery, plus things like Kyubey with bullet holes all over him made it seem like, “WHOA, DARK.”

Anonymous said:

Remember when I told you about the teenage-bashing in the Star Vs. Fandom? Well, rewatching the show, I'm beginning to think that most of the time, when people in a certain fandom have these opinions, more often than not, the show backs it up for whatever reason. Like, there's one scene where Eclipsa is put on trial and is asked if she's ever eaten any babies(which is just a rumor), and she says no but that she has eaten a few teenagers but, psychologically, they always deserved it.

And in another episode, Star says that teenagers are great at causing problems, which I at first laughed off as a joke, but then in another, Tom and Star were talking about how they broke up, and Star said "Of course we broke up! That's what people do! That's what teenagers do! Teenagers are dumb!" And Tom was just like "Yeah, I know, I know"; there are a lot more examples but I don't care to revisit them. I'm just saying that the teen-hating in the fandom would have to have come from somewhere.

omg I don’t remember that stuff at all; I guess it just blew right past me when I was initially watching it.

I don’t understand the trend of being like, “teenagers are dumb and that’s what they do,” and then either over-punishing or not punishing at all. Are we supposed to believe that all teenagers are just going to “be teenagers” and so we shouldn’t do anything, or that they’re all idiots who don’t understand their own feelings but we should also punish them for it?

I don’t get it.

Anonymous said:

I'm the "tomboys in anime" anon, and yes, I totally agree! It especially irks me(as a girly girl who has a lot to say) when the shortcut to making a girl tomboyish is simply by making her loud/tough/like gaming or machinery, or when a female character is told she isn't enough of a girl because she's like that, but otherwise doesn't look or even act all that "boyish". Even TV Tropes does it, as if the second a girl shows any proactivity or is tough she's a "tomboy".

It really annoys me and almost makes me want to erase the term "tomboy" altogether since it leads to an idea of "I'm not like other girls, I'm better 'cause I do boy stuff"(which I know not every tomboy thinks, but some do). The only reason I don't is because I very proudly embrace the term "girly girl" and terms are meaningless without an opposite(not that you can't like both girly and tomboyish things). So I think the key to fixing this problem is that we shouldn't label people unless they want to be labeled that way.

And I know fictional characters can't speak for themselves, so just to figure out if a female character is a tomboy, I just say that if her only "tomboyish" traits are "proactive" qualities or liking something that's for guys, just don't call them a tomboy because it looks ridiculous and acts like women are inherently passive and weak, so for a girl not to be like that is acting like a man.

I would love to see a tomboy character who likes those things but is actually shy/a wallflower. That avoids the stereotype of "aggressive, hard-hitting tomboy, weak-willed, shallow girly girl" and challenges audiences expectations that "but but but she's a tomboy so she should be loud and strong because strength is for MEN". I also hate when tomboy characters are given no curves because the writers know they're doing something wrong, tomboys can have natural curves too. It's like they think tomboys just don't want to be girls. So, yeah. So over the "tomboy in-name-only" stereotype.

"it makes me feel weird saying that when I’m all for girl power shows with an all female cast, but in this show’s logic, it’s a different ball game". Oh, phew! That's good. Because, like I said before, I'm working on my own magical girl show in which most of the female characters are(black) girls and only girls can use magic in this world, and someone I know keeps telling me that it's not fair that the guys don't get to have magic, so it's good to know that there's someone out there who doesn't think it's "sexist" that magical girls tend to only let girls have powers(unless it's for fanservice or like in Madoka Magica because ick). Because guys get to be in the forefront all too often, so why is it so bad when girls get to be in the spotlight? I know I can't change everyone's opinions but it's good to know someone gets it.

(the post this anon is referring to)

Honestly, I feel like the fact that there’s a label at all is the issue, like you suggested? It might just be a “we have to get ride of the label ‘tomboy’ and ‘girly girl’ altogether” thing, because it’s not like we do the same thing with guys?

Oh wait, we do; guys who do “girly” things are called “sissies.”

I hate this planet. :P

Point being, having to say “tomboy” inherently implies something, which might be a problem all on its own, y’know?

(the below ask is incomplete but the asker clarified after I asked them, so clarification is below:)

Anonymous said:

I just thought back to our little "tomboys in anime" argument and about how you can't really think of any tomboys. So I looked up "tomboys in anime" on Google and clicked on the first link, and literally the first character on the list was a girl with...a flower in her hair and a bikini. The reason she was a "tomboy" according to the list? Was because she is "aggressive" and "competitive". In fact, most of the examples on the list were "she's tough/a good fighter/challenges male supremacy".

(part of this ask is missing and clarified below)

girly girls, while the girly girls always have to be the weak and shy ones(not that shy=weak but you get the idea). But while I may not know most of the characters on the list, and some of them DID look pretty tomboyish, I'm very bothered by the idea that it's their strength and ambition and excellent fighting skills that are branded as masculine. And you know what? I'd actually be offended if someone called me a tomboy, especially if it was based of these reasonings. Because it sounds like they think being a tomboy is the only way to be strong and vice versa. Like I should take it as a compliment that I need to be separated from my femininity in order to be respected. Like, if you're a tomboy, cool! But it shouldn't be used for just any girl who isn't a weak-willed crybaby doormat. I actually don't know why people seem to think being a tomboy or "masculine" for a girl is some sort of badge of honor to wear with pride for rejecting your femininity and being "cooler" than other girls.

the clarification:

Anonymous said:

The missing part was talking about the various tropes having to do with contrasting masculinity/femininity, either in two different characters, with one being masculine and one being feminine(ex. Tomboy and Girly Girl, Sensitive Guy and Manly Man, Masculine Girl, Feminine Boy, Masculine-Feminine Gay Couple), or one character who has traits of both(ex. Girly Girl With a Tomboy Streak, Tomboy With a Girly Streak, Real Men Wear Pink), and how TV Tropes always talks about them as if the "girly" character(or girly side of the character) is weaker or inferior(like how for Tomboy and Girly Girl they might say that the former is tough, competitive, and can fight, while the latter is vain, a priss, and a Damsel in Distress.

Or for Tomboy With a Girly Streak, they might say that the tomboy dresses in a masculine way with their "girly" streak being that they're a doormat or dream of being a housewife. Not that it's wrong to be a housewife.).

To be fair, they don't always do this: For the pages on Magical Girl they talk about how those shows can appeal to multiple demographics, and almost all the quotes on them, they talk about how they're empowered through their femininity and are just as much legitimate threats to their opponents as other heroes. Still, they fall in this trap even then, as on the LoliRock Awesome page, they say "You gotta admit, for a Magical Girl show, LoliRock does have its awesome moments", which ignores that Magical Girl is SUPPOSED to have awesome moments, it's literally an action subgenre! Just because it's frilly and pink and girly doesn't mean it doesn't--or shouldn't--still have badass fight scenes. Just look at PreCure. Shonen should take notes from those shows. But no, whoever wrote that clearly dismissed it as just frivolous and was SURPRISED that the fight scenes were good, just because it's girly!

It’s 2021 and people are still struggling with this concept that girliness isn’t bad and it’s not embarrassing to watch such a show.because GIRLS.

It’s so tiring. I watched Dragonball Z, Inuyasha, and played Pokemon; got a few looks about it at times but people ultimately were like, “okay I guess” (I did get bullied for the Pokemon one but that was more for the “it’s for babies” kind of deal, not a “you can’t like that because you’re a girl,” thing). I can’t really relate to the world of girls who get looked down upon for being “girly” but that doesn’t mean I don’t understand that it must be awful for them.

Don’t even get me started on “Tomboy Lesbian,” I will scream about it and it won’t be happy screaming.

[mojofun]

Not My Type (Sirius Black x Reader)

Hello earthlings :) This is an entry for This is an entry for a writing challenge I’m taking part in, launched by the wonderful @obsessedwithrandomthings​ for getting 500 followers; congrats again :) The prompt I chose this time was <<You look so good in my shirt>>. I can just imagine our dear Sirius using lame one-liners when flirting with girls, and this is the result. P.S. I’ve been listening to Motionless in White lately, so this thing is packed with lyrics references. Besides, Sirius looks like the kind of guy who would totally dig that style of music so I thought “why not?” I hope you enjoy it!

Gif not mine, credits to @snuffles-padfoot07

<<Remus?>>

No answer

<<Remus. Remus Lupin>>

Still silence

<<Remus John Lupin>>

Still no reply

<<Moony. Moony, Moony, Moony->>

<<WHAT?!>> The taller Marauder ultimately snapped, turning to glare at his bespectacled friend; said friend acted like nothing happened, simply holding up a slip of paper

<<Do you think Lily will like it?>>

Sighing, Remus gave the poem a skim before rolling his eyes

<<Won’t you give the poor girl a moment of reprieve, James?>>

<<Cmon, help a friend in need!>>

<<Why me?>>

<<You always has a way with words>>

A snort came from the opposite side of the room

<<And yet, he still got no date>>

Remus scowled

<<Prongs, why don’t you ask Padfoot then? Merlin knows Y/N loves his idiotic pickup lines>>

Sirius acknowledged the hit, rising from his bed and walking toward his two mates with a strut. Once there, he took James’s poem and read it, nodding in approval

<<Go for it, pal>>

<<What about you, oh great master of poetry?>> Moony teased, still miffed about Sirius’s jab <<How will you annoy your muse today?>>

The shorter male chuckled, smirking mischievously

<<Don’t worry, Moony. I’m very well-prepared>>

<<That’s exactly what worries me>>

              _______

<<Y/N! Y/N!>>

Sirius greeted the H/C girl who’d just walked in the class with her friends. As soon as she saw him, she groaned

<<Oh no>>

<<Come sit by me!>>

Another H/N patted her back soothingly while she face-palmed

<<I think I already know what my boggart’s gonna look like>>

<<Oh love, come on! You don’t need to be afraid of me!>>

<<I’m not scared: now that I think about it, you look like my boggart after I’ve cast Riddiculus>> The female deadpanned.

Sirius was stumped.

Beside him, Janes cackled

<<Your girl’s got sass, Padfoot>>

The other guy could only nod, watching as his crush took a seat as far as possible from him- or tried to: thanks to his distraction, all the other spots were occupied.

That meant she was sitting in the next desk. 

Y/N hoped that she’d successfully quelled the Gryffindor’s idiotic onslaught.

Well, she did... Just for a little while though

<<Such a sharp tongue for someone so pretty, doll>>

<<I also own very sharp blades, Black>> The girl countered, glaring at him <<Do not tempt me>>

<<I knew you couldn’t resist!>> He cackled

<<Yes, my killing instincts are very strong right now>>

The quaint theatre was interrupted by the arrival of Professor Silvanus Kettleburn, who immediately gave dispositions for the class

<<Very well. Today, you will work in pairs>>

The sentence every student dreaded, especially poor Y/N.

It seemed luck was not on her side that day because, when the professor announced her partner, she was faced with a smug Sirius, grinning from ear to ear

<<You know, my therapist says I’m afraid of commitment. Wanna help me prove em wrong?>>

<<Interesting. I’ve never wanted to commit more>>

<<Really?>>

<<Yes; a murder>> The E/C-eyed student walked away from him, heading toward the fire crab the professor had assigned them

<<Ready to give up, Padfoot?>>

<<Never>>

<<I don’t know whether to commend you on your tenacity or call you foolish>> Remus commented

<<She’s made of fire, but I can handle it. And no, James; I’m not talking about the crab>>

              _______

<<No no no no. Stop right there>>

<<What?>>

<<You need to chop those before feeding the crab>>

<<Oh>>

<<Give them to me>>

Sirius nodded, handing her the food and watching her cut it, slowly and precisely

<<Where have you been all my life?>>

<<Hiding from you>> Y/N replied coolly.

The boy cackled

<<You’re smart, funny, pretty, and you’ve got an insane amount of sass. You’re everything I’m looking for in a girl>>

<<Wow, I’m so lucky>>

It would have been impossible to ignore the sarcasm lacing her words, but Sirius didn’t acknowledge it

<<Would you want to go watch a movie with me this weekend?>>

<<I’ve already seen it>>

<<How can you know?>>

<<You’re asking me out again: I’ve already lived this horror enough to last me a lifetime>>

The older Black brother laughed, shaking his head in amusement

<<Alright, let me try again>>

<<Please no>>

<<Can I take you out on Saturday?>>

<<Sorry, I’m having a headache this weekend>>

<<What?>>

<<Leftovers from the one you’re giving me now>>

But you->>

<<Bitch you’d give a fucking aspirin a headache>> She growled.

Once again, Sirius was at a loss for words. Not only had Y/N just used two swear words in a sentence, but he knew he’d already heard those words somewhere...

<<Wait a second. You listen to Motionless In White?>>

He cried out. The female snorted

<<Are you kidding me? They’re one of my favourite bands>>

<<I like them too>>

Finally, the tension between them seemed to dissipate. Finally, Sirius’s smile was not a smug grin but a real, happy smile.

Finally, Y/N smiled genuinely back at him.

How cliché would it be to say that they felt like they were the only ones in the world at the moment?

(Fire crab aside)

And yet, that exactly how they felt.

It was so exhilarating that Sirius just had to try again

<<Y/N?>>

<<Yes?>>

<<I know the only words that you have for me are give up and get out>> The girl chuckled, prompting him to continue <<but I’m here to stay, forever and always>>

She laughed more. It was not sarcastic or mirthless but a true, joyous laugh

<<You know, you’re not so bad once I get past the smug act>>

<<I feel like that’s the biggest compliment you ever paid me>>

<<You’re probably right, but don’t get ahead of yourself. My killing instinct are not raging right now: let’s keep it that way, shall we?>>

<<I’m ready to bleed to make amends>> He joked. The young woman cachinnated, shoving him playfully

<<You idiot. You’re making it hard not to like you>>

<<That was my objective>>

<<Continue on this road and you might just achieve it>>

<<I will. Besides, I know better than to tease you when you’re chopping stuff with a knife; you warned me>>

Y/N cackled one more time, shaking her head in amusement.

It was an incredibly welcome turn of events.

              _______

Later that day, the two students sat together for lunch in the Great Hall, discussing anything that came to mind. Mostly their favourite bands.

The more they found out they had similar tastes the more engaged they became.

It was quite a sight. It surely left Remus and James gobsmacked: they would have never thought Y/N would actually want to be with Sirius. Didn’t he annoy her as much as James did Lily, with his dumb pickup lines?

Apparently not.

Their surprise grew even more when their friend suddenly asked her on a date- nothing new there.

They’d enjoyed endless attempts by Padfoot to win the heart of the smart and beautiful H/N.

Her answer, on the other hand, was something entirely unexpected

<<Yes, Sirius: I will go on a date with you>>

The black-haired Marauder offered her a huge smile, making her laugh

<<Thank you, darling. You won’t regret it>>

<<I certainly hope not>>

<<I’ll even make sure the place I take you to has sharp knives, so you’ll know what to do if I get too annoying, alright?>>

The girl laughed so hard that tears fell from her eyes

<<You’re an idiot>>

<<Duly noted. But doesn’t this idiot deserve a kiss?>>

Remus and James half expected Y/N’s smile to turn into a frown, and for her to smack him in the face.

Instead, against all odds, she giggled and pulled him closer, pecking his cheek

<<I finally managed to break the cycle>> Sirius beamed. Y/N snorted

<<Not entirely: you’re still an idiot>>

              _______

Idiot or not, the date went so well that they went on a second one, and a third, a fourth... And so on, until they officially became a couple.

Which meant Remus, James and Peter had to deal with their best friend and his girlfriend sucking faces and being all lovey-dovey- though they were sure those two only did it to piss them off.

Well, they’d learnt how to deal with it, as long as it was just holding hands and kissing- making out, actually.

But none of them was ready to find the two of them in bed together in their dorm room

<<What the->>

<<Ah!>> Y/N startled, waking Sirius

<<For crying out loud, guys, won’t you ever knock?>>

The poor friends just stood there, red in the faces while Padfoot rubbed sleep out of his eyes.

Once he’d had enough, he shouted

<<Well, why are you still standing there? Get out, we need to change!>>

Not even Death-Eaters after them would have made the three boys run so fast.

The female chuckled, standing up and smoothing our her boyfriend’s shirt that she was wearing like a dress.

The boy in question stared at her adoringly, pulling her closer

<<You look so good in my shirt>>

He fully expected her to blush, but she smirked and replied cheekily

<<I look even better out of it>>

The wink that came immediately after threw him for a loop

<<Y/N...>>

<<Yes, dear?>>

<<... That’s such a lame pickup line>>

<<Yeah... I stole the idea from you, along with your shirt>>

<<And my heart>> Sirius played along

<<... Just like that, the lame throne is yours again>>

<<But that makes you the queen of lame>> He pointed out.

She didn’t know what to reply to that, so she swatted him on the chest.

He gasped in horror

<<You said you’d never hurt me>>

His joke made her laugh.

When she calmed down enough, she teased

<<You’d still give a fucking aspirin a headache>>

<<Oh, are you an aspirin?>> For old times’ sake, he decided to throw in another lame pickup line <<I’d love to take you every 4-6 hours>>

<<Isn’t that too much for you?>> She teased. He chuckled and pulled her in his lap, pecking her cheek

<<You are too much for me, but I’m never letting you go>>

Despite the light atmosphere, those words held a promise of forever, and they both wanted that.

Their lips met and their hands held the other close.

Once again, as cliché as it may sound, they felt like the only two people in the world

              ___Extra____

Outside the door Remus, James and Peter stood still, looking at each other in confusion and embarrassment

<<How long do you think it will take?>>

<<Well, Wormtail, I don’t know much about Padfoot’s prowess in bed but->>

<<I’m not talking about that, James>> The shorter Marauder spluttered.

Remus sighed

<<That was probably the most embarrassing thing to ever happen to me. And that’s saying something, taking into account I hang out with you three>>

James cackled

<<Oh, Moony, you wouldn’t->>

<<I have a question>> Peter piped up again

<<What would that be?>>

<<Why are we still standing here?>>

<<Oh, right. We should come back later>>

<<Better yet, let’s change our house>> Remus groused <<Merlin knows I’m never going back there>>

After some silence, James spoke again

<<Hey, Moony, do you think if I used those pickup lines on Lily, she would->>

Professor McGonagall spent the whole day wondering if the incredibly loud sound she heard in the morning was actually a scream, and where it had come from

[renohasbigtits]

Omg your Iggy mpreg headcanon is so gooooddd! Will you consider to do another Iggy mpreg headcanon which takes place in the true ending?

Mpreg Ignis (Final Fantasy 15: True Ending Version)

AHAAHAHAHAH! I can’t believe that people really like the Mpreg Ignis Headcanon! Thank you so much!

Something you guys have probably noticed by now is that I’m not a huge fan of the true ending.

Not saying it’s bad, I just don’t like how:

•Noct dies

•Iggy is blind

•Ravus dies

I also don’t agree with the assumption that the alternative ending is a “happier ending” because Luna is still dead.

But I digress, I don’t think the ending is bad. it’s just not my favorite ending.

But I will do it. I will give the people what they want!

To make this one different than the Alternative ending this one will have;

•Ignis is Blind :(

•Noctis is dead (also Ravus)

•Ignis has his own restaurant because of course he should!!!

I guess this takes place two years after The light is restored. Idk you change that if ya want to.

Apologies if it’s similar to the Alternative version, I did try my best to make this one different!

Yes it’ll albaby’s are default Female but you can change it if you want to!

Alright alright, less talking, Let’s go!

(this does contain Mpreg =Male Pregnancy. Don’t like? Don’t read!)

•Look

•this man is a lot of things (hotter than satan is one of em.)

•but happy isn’t really one of them rn.

•Just broken up with his long time partner.

•things aren’t going well for him...

•than suddenly he’s getting sick!

• certain smells bother him, he’s throwing up every morning.

•it’s gotten to the point where he can’t really cook anymore at his restaurant. And he now has to supervise.

•not that it’s a huge issue since there are other amazing cooks there to help but Ignis does not like sitting on the sidelines.

•than a female co-worker, Shannon, asks Iggy what’s wrong, he tells her that he has a “strange illness”

•she asks what the symptoms are

•tiredness

•morning sickness

•Smell sensitivity

•Mood swings

•than she starts giggling.

•”Ignis, I’m a chef but I’m also a Mother of 3 kids.”

• “What are you imply, Pray tell?”

•”I think your Pregnant. You have the classic symptoms.”

•Ignis was dumbfounded. 𝘞𝘢𝘴 𝘩𝘦 𝘱𝘳𝘦𝘨𝘯𝘢𝘯𝘵?

•He made a Doctors appointment.

•After what feels like 𝘢𝘨𝘦𝘴, The Doctor comes back with the results.

•”Mr Scientia, The results are in. You are Pregnant! Congratulations!”

•Ignis was not one to be speechless but this...

•he wasn’t sure what to do!!

•he wasn’t sure if he was ready for Parenthood.

•He was Blind and he couldn’t never see what his child would look like.

•or, if it was the right time....

•so he turned to his friends, Prompto and Gladiolus, for help.

•Prompto had to ask if Iggy’s joking

•he wasn’t obviously

•Gladio asks if Ignis has tried to get the other parent involved.

•Ignis did tried to do that.

•it didn’t go well...

•the other parent outwardly admitted that they did not want to be in the baby’s life.

•Well Fuck

•Poor Ignis (someone hug him 🥺)

•Prompto and Gladiolus, being the best friends they are decided then and there, that there gonna help Ignis, no matter what decision he makes.

•Shannon, the coworker in question, steps up and offers Ignis tips on pregnancy, since she knows it can be stressful, especially with your first one.

•Ignis really appreciates it.

•she’s also leads when Ignis has a doctors appointment or is too sick to be there.

•8 Weeks: Ignis + Pregnant = Moody Ignis

•Little things bother him more than usual.

•Ignis almost Lashed out Prompto because he did something that annoyed him.

•Shannon assured Prompto that this is just a mood swing and that he didn’t mean it.

•at this point, Ignis and Shannon have started become close due to the fact that she’s basically has become his right hand man (or woman)

•Her helping more also has taken any stress Iggy has had about it off his chest.

•Ignis couldn’t be more greatful.

•12 weeks: a small bump has started to show. So adorable!

•And of course, ya know Prompto is gonna take SO.MANY.PICS of Ignis’s bump growing.

•he’s gonna scrapbook it (rip his sd card tho)

•lris already has started making baby clothes. Girl clothes.

•15 weeks: You thought he was a mom before? Oh you ain’t seen nothing yet!

•he acts real fatherly (or motherly) to the youngest employee at the restaurant.

•good thing to because the poor guy is always a nervous reck.

•he has talent but very little confidence. So Ignis assuring him, helps a lot.

•Shannon is now basically his iggy’s real hand man (or woman)

•she helps, even when Ignis’s there.

•not just in work, but in his pregnancy too (I swear. I did not mean to create a character)

•giving him tips, things to help him, with baby supplies to buy. She’s the real mvp.

•(let’s skip a little)

•20 Weeks: Ignis has already started to feel her move. It 𝘮𝘰𝘷𝘦𝘥 his heart. (I’ll see myself out 🚪)

•All joking aside, he was genuinely touched (that wasn’t a pun. I swear!) by feeling her kick.

•At this point, Ignis had already found out it’s a girl. (Again, you can change it if ya want to.)

•much to lris’s delight.

• THATS IT! HE’S MAKING A BUN IN THE OVEN! (>:)

•lord take the wheel....

• he tries to control himself, when it comes to his strange cravings (like pickles with peanut butter?? Wtf???)

•but he gives in when no one’s looking.

•𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘯 𝘯𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘩𝘰

•”I Noticed Ignis.”

•”I don’t know why you are referring to.”

•25-28 weeks: he’s already getting bigger (don’t say that to his face tho.)

•if you think his work is being put on hold while being very pregnant, you clearly have never met Ignis.

•of course, he is being a little more easy on himself. Not walking around as much and Shannon makes a lot more decisions (with iggy’s trust)

•but he is a workaholic, so he’s working til he takes maternity leave.

•(I’m really trying to add Gladio to the story but lol)

•Prompto is already getting a new sd card cause he’s taking SO.MANY.PREGNANCY. PICS.

• “Prompto, if you don’t take any unnecessary pictures, you wouldn’t have to buy another sd car-

•”I AM NOT DELETING ANY OF THIS PICS MR MOM!”

•32 Weeks (I’m trying not to make this boring lol): He’s still working!!

•Ain't nothin' gonna break-a my stride, Nobody gonna slow me down!

•Shannon starts to get a bit worried.

•”Sir. I believe that you should take a break. Please”

•Ignis looked at his right hand and smile. “I should. Thank you Shannon.”

•36 weeks: He feels 𝘵 𝘪 𝘳 𝘦 𝘥

•his poor swollen feet :(

•thankfully, lris is secretly planning a baby shower.

•Everyone is coming.

•Shannon distracting him until she’s called to bring him over.

•when Ignis sees this, he’s tears up.

•"𝘪𝘧 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘕𝘰𝘤𝘵 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦."

• he gets so many adorable gifts.

•Prompto gets him a Chocobo Plush (classic)

•Gladio gets him a toy dagger. This son of a Bit-

•”Hey, you are never too early to start training!”

•Shannon got him a baby mobile.

•lris gotten him more baby clothes. Yay....(Am I the only one who can’t stand getting clothes as a gift?)

• lris had made an adorable cake. In his mind, Iggy admitted that she was as good as he was.

•this mf still working around the restaurant from his office.

•”Igg-Sir. Can we talk?”

•”Yes Shannon. And you can call me Ignis, were mutuals.”

•”Ignis. Promise me that when you enter in the third trimester, that you’ll take maternity leave. You’ll need to prepare for your baby.”

•Ignis was taken a back a bit. Yes, her concerns were valid but he didn’t wanna put everything on Shannon.

•”Ignis, I know that you don’t wanna put everything on me but...but you need to Focus on your daughter. You need to prepare.”

•”I-“

•”I’ll handle it. I know what I’m doing.” She smiled.

•Ignis chuckled back. “Really?” Getting up from his chair.

•”Well.” She left while looking back. “I have learned from the best.”

•Ignis laughed. He did taught her well. “Alright. I will. Thank you Shannon.”

•”don’t thank me si- Ignis. I’m just doing my job.”

•honestly Shannon has been a great support system for Ignis. Not just because she knows a thing or two or three about pregnancy, but she really has stepped up.

•Ignis considers her a great friend.

37 weeks: 9 months. He now has to get ready.

•it’s his last day at the restaurant. For awhile anyways.

•it’s actually really emotional. The employees are sad that they won’t see him for awhile but are happy that he’s taking time to be ready on fatherhood (**cough cough Motherhood cough cough**)

•To Ignis, There like a family, a family he gained when he lost so much.

•his eyesight

• and Noct

•After they’ve closed, they celebrate.

•Ignis and Shannon smiling at everyone.

•”I’m proud of you Sir.”

•Ignis smiled back. “Really?”

•”Yeah. Your the bravest person I’ve met.”

•”How, Pray tell?”

•”You may be blind but you certainly don’t act like it. You 𝗡𝗘𝗩𝗘𝗥 let it stop you. I’m- I’m really proud of you.” She choked up. 

•Ignis looked at her with his Emerald eyes and she looked back.

•”And I’m proud of you to, Shannon.”

•(let’s cut to the chase. Oooo. Foreshadowing.)•

•38 weeks: Ignis wonders how much his blindness will affect his daughter.

•he wasn’t lying when he said that his senses have grown. He basically doesn’t need any help.

•not that he wouldn’t have either way, but he doesn’t wanna be a burden on anyone. Including his daughter.

•Sometime during the day, Iggy starts feeling pain down his back.

•it wasn’t too bad, so he went on with his day.

•but the pain got worse.

•so bad that he started doing his deep breath’s.

•(y’all what it is!!)

•(weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee woooooooooooooooo 🚑)

•(that will never get old xD)

•The midwife tells him to get to the hospital, NOW!

•This is it.

•he has to be cut open....

• She was here.

•Ignis holding his daughter for the first time. Well, he broke down.

•he couldn’t see her but he was there to her hold her. He is there for her.

•”Hi Darling. I’m your Father.”

•she suddenly stopped crying and stared at his bad eye.

•After a week, hes able to take her home.

•And oh, If you thought Prompto took too many photos of Ignis’s pregnancy belly....oh boy.

•he immediately starts taking many, MANY MANY, Photos of her.

•she actually looked confused.

• Gladio joking said “so, when are we going to train her?”

•Ignis later made his food cold, on purpose later that night.

•Shannon got to hold her and fell in love with her immediately.

•”feels like holding my son for the first, all over again.” She said teared up.

•Over the years, She has grown to being a shy and a adorable little girl.

•She’s so helpful during work and is popular with the staff. They treat her like they’re siblings.

•She always tries to help Ignis’s blindness. Guiding him around.

•”Watch where your going Daddy.”

•Even tho, he can get around just fine. It warms his heart that she tries to help him.

•Of course, Ignis wishes that Noct could have Met her. Even once.

•but somehow, he believes that Noct is watching her in heaven.

•Noctis is so proud of his friend.

Wow! So long! Well I hoped ya like it. I hope the true ending version is just as good as the alternative version.

I thought it would be cute that he would have a restaurant. ^~^ Gladio got the right idea 💡

Also I did not mean to create a new character, Shannon, but eh why not? I grew attached to her over the story (she sounds like a like Karen but she’s a good Karen. I promise.) and who knows? She might show up in other Headcanons 😉

Also whether you ship her with Ignis, is up to you. Hehehe. I don’t blame you tho.

Anyways, I hoped who requested this, liked it 💙💜

[mymindwide]

Madness

Pairing: Ashton x Female reader

Word count: 3464

Warning: jealousy, angst, feelings, smut with fingering, male receiving blowjob, riding and fluff. A little from everything.

Summary: You started out as part time lovers, but maybe one of you want more?

Author’s note: The inspiration behind this piece was a part of the lyrics of the song - Escape from LA by The Weeknd.

She pulled up to the studio Nobody's watching She closed the door and then she locked it For me, for me We had sex in the studio Nobody walked in I cut my verse and then she popped it For me, for me

...

She got Chrome Hearts hangin' from her neck And them shits going wild When she ride, she hold tight She gon' ride 'til sweat fall down her spine

My beautiful angel, my nr. 1 supporter, my partner in hoeing @littledrummerangie (aka @littledrummeraussie) asked me/convinced me to post this. If you’ll like it, thank her. Take care and enjoy your read.

*****

“Should we maybe test it together?” his eyes bored into yours leaving no doubt about his intentions.

“Lead the way, handsome…” came the immediate response from you, as you slithered your hand in his leaving no doubt for him about your consent.

The offering referred to the club’s renovated bathroom where the two of you locked yourself up.

That’s how it all started, how you ended up on the counter of the VIP club’s bathroom, your skirt rolled up to your waist, your panties pulled aside, being fucked by a handsome stranger you just met but immediately found a mutual point regarding why you visited the club in the first place.

None of you thought it could be more than a one night stand, but you officially became fuck buddies. Both of you went there to have fun and find someone who could possibly help release the tension and stress that slowly aggregated in you and couldn’t find a quick way out for lack of a partner. You thought you’d just “fallen in love” for that particular night but it was good enough for both of you that you changed numbers and agreed on that you have to repeat it sometime in the future. But your second quickie was followed by another and then another one…

Actually you were surprised how easily and smoothly you came to terms over what you two had – high-class sex, no strings attached. It is what it is, without complications. You enjoyed each other’s company and body and with that you took everything the other could offer. As it turned out on the day of your acquaintance in the club, both of your latest failed relationships taught you enough to not get involved in anything serious, at least for now, and this was good enough for the both of you. The only rule you insisted on was that there are no rules. You called or texted each other whenever you needed each other, but otherwise everyone could go on their separate way, and do whatever they wish with whoever they please.

Over the course of your ongoing fuck buddiness various locations provided a safe place for you to luxuriate your desires - sometimes he invited you to his home, sometimes it was you who had him up to your flat, but if you lost the fight against your eagerness, on several occasions you did it in his car as well – all in the name of mutual agreement of the friends with benefits state, except that you couldn’t even be called friends. You talked, of course, beside the sex, and you know little things about the other, but serious or deep things? Heaven-shattering big secrets? Not so much.

And this is exactly why you were so surprised by your own reaction at finding out that most likely your part time lover has someone else to have fun with. It’s been a pleasant Friday afternoon, you were spending your lunch-break sitting on the terrace of your favorite restaurant at noon having just finished with your lunch, when surfing through the daily news at the tabloid section you found paparazzi pictures of Ashton with a seemingly nice-looking girl while they’re having breakfast and coffee, smiling and laughing. You felt a strange grip in your heart - a painful reminder of something you tried to push back into the depths of your mind, something you didn’t want to acknowledge, something that you realized just recently yourself. That although according to your agreement you’d have had every opportunity and right to meet or date other men, you didn’t. You simply weren’t interested in anyone else, because he was completely enough for you. He takes good care of your physical needs; he is smart, handsome and has a sense of humor that just cannot be competed with. The long and short of it, he’s a decent guy you could imagine more with, if you weren’t so disappointed in your previous affairs or relationships. This was too good with Ashton to ruin it. You needed him in your life. But it looks like you are not enough. Again...

You haven’t seen him in a week cuz they started working in the studio on their upcoming material, so much you know. You missed him, which was already a warning sign for you about your possibly changing feelings, but for this particular reason you wanted to give him even more space than he already has based on your very open and sex oriented relationship. No calls, no texts, no requests for impromptu meetings. You lost all your concentration skills for the rest of the day and you thank god that you have a pretty silent afternoon in the office. Your mind had been clouded with questions like ‘why’ and ‘what can that girl give him that you can’t’? Thoughts and images of your encounters torture you that also can’t give you reassuring answers to your constantly popping up questions.

When you close your eyes you hear yourself chanting his name after your second or third orgasm he gave you…; you hear him praising God while you suck him off; you hear him whispering ‘how much I love fucking your tight little pussy’ in your ear while you’re on all fours in front of him; and you just love him doing exactly that. God, how much you love his dirty mouth, sometimes you think you could just get off simply by hearing him talking dirty, because he’s that good with his words… Sex works perfectly between you two and you understand each other on the little things you share with the other. The unanswered questions riled you up so much that a thought has planted itself in your mind. You’ll show him. If this is the last thing you two will do, you’ll show him what he’ll miss and beg back.

You drove home and picked out your sexiest short mini dress with a very nice cleavage that does justice to your breasts he loves oh so much. ‘They are wonderful, my angel’ Ash’s words echoes in your mind as the image of his lips closing on your hardened nipples runs in front of your mind’s eye. To the picture in your head a familiar ache would start to build in your core but your anger and desperation is stronger now. So the dress is on, lingerie is not… You spray on from his favorite perfume and get in your car again to drive a good twenty minutes to the studio they use and he showed you once.

It’s kinda late now when you arrive, you assume they are about to finish their day and it turns out you’re not wrong as you bump into the other three guys in front of a door that has a red flashing RECORDING sign above. Three very surprised pairs of eyes looked you up and down.

“Hey guys… Is Ashton here?” your eyes have scanned the hallway behind the three men.

“Sweetie, fans are not allowed here. How did you…?” a scruffy faced blond guy questioned you, who you know for a fact is called Michael.

“Oh, I’m not a fan,” you interrupt Mikey immediately, “I mean, I like your music, you are great and all, but I’m really just here to see Ash” you tried to remain as calm as possible seeing their confusion getting bigger.

You’re not surprised the slightest bit that they have no idea who you are. But you’ve been doing this for almost four months now and they are not suspecting anything? Now that amazes you. Ash is very clever at keeping things private, except when it comes to breakfast dates with pretty blond girls. This tiny fact just adds to your growing inner fury.

“Guys, are we gonna leave...” the door has opened and Ash’s words stuck in his throat the second he saw you standing in the hallway with his bandmates.

You can see the surprise in his eyes as he’s still taking your sight in, but you’re not the only one, the other three looked at him and then each other, possibly considering calling the security on you, but fortunately Ash could sense this and with finally opening his mouth he prevented further unwanted complications.

“Y/N…” at least those three worried eyes could see he knows your name, so probably you’re not a random stranger from the street.

“Can we talk?” your voice remained soft, but your eyes mirrored sadness and impatience and he could read that that second.

“It’s okay guys. See ya tomorrow.”

After a ‘Tomorrow’ a ‘See ya’ and a suspicious ‘I’ll call you later’ from each of them, they left you two there not taking the trouble to say a single word to you. If you weren’t in this stormy state of mind you’d let yourself be moved over the fact how cute is that these young adult men are worried about their brother.

The door has been closed behind you and you turned back to turn the lock shut making sure no one can disturb your rendezvous. You walked towards him without saying a word, your eyes refused to leave his, and you saw he probably would have liked to say or rather ask something but his eyes wandered on you - exactly the effect you wanted to go for with that dress.

Tiptoeing you cupped his cheeks in your hands and captured his lips with yours in a feverish manner, and his in response jump automatically onto your hips. Your hands don’t spend too much time on his face as they slide down his chest and reaching between you, you start to unbuckle his belt.

Ashton pulls away just enough to ask ‘What is going on’, which comes out rather breathy, and your hands halts for a second on his zipper while you answer a quick ‘I need you’ back to cut your conversation short, and seeing the desperation in your eyes he decides not to force it for now, just give himself in to whatever you’re about to do – which he has an idea for as your hand slide in his boxer and your warm palm wraps around his still limp member to free it.

No matter how worked up or angry you are, in its weird twisted way what you were about to do turned you on and holding his soft cock in your hand figuratively made your mouth water. You dropped yourself on your knees in front of him and pushed him in your mouth immediately, you wanted to enjoy his softness and that this way he still fits fully and perfectly in, which will change as soon as you’ll start sucking him, so you wanted to lengthen and luxuriate these moments a bit. Especially as this is probably your last opportunity to do this to him, to hear those beautiful and breathy moans. Because if your suspicion proves to be true, no matter what you agreed on at the beginning of your “relationship”, you have changed your mind, and don’t want to share him with anyone. Then that’s it for you, you’re ready to walk away.

You started with slow movements, just suck him in and pull him out as your lips brushing against his shaft until he hardened enough; then you let your tongue play along his velvety skin leaving open mouth kisses on his shaft while palming his balls for the better and quicker effect. When his tip started releasing his pre cum, you happily smeared it on his tip with the circular motions of your tongue while looking straight in his eyes receiving the same admiration and lust you’ve seen every single time you did this to him. The only difference had been that his hands are resting on the mixing desk grabbing onto its edge instead of being buried in your hair guiding your movements and praising your lips wrapping so perfectly around his cock. He really is a clever guy, and respects that for now you are in control, he most likely sees that you are in need of it, and he’ll do whatever you give permission for.

You made this blowjob sloppy for him to slick him up enough and reaching the desired condition you pulled him off of your mouth and standing up quickly you pushed him by his chest until he bumped the couch with the back of his legs and dropped down onto it. You straddled him but before lowering yourself on him he asked something for the first time during your studio invasion.

“Can I touch you?” his voice surprisingly insecure as his hands rested on your bare knees.

You looked him in the eye and just nodded, although for a quick moment you played with the thought of saying no just out of some sort of punishment.

His hands slithered up on your thighs; one reaching and grabbing your round butt, the other one slid between your legs to palm your pussy just to find out you have no panties on. A smirk appeared in the corner of his mouth but didn’t comment on the surprise, just stroked his fingers along your already wet lips making you even wetter as his fingertips circled your entrance. None of you saw what he was doing as the skirt part of your dress has covered both your lower half and his hands, and this just doubled your excitement feeling how skillful he is. By now he more or less knows your own body as well as you do.

Holding onto his shoulders you leaned your forehead against his as he expertly pushed two fingers inside you, starting fingering you slowly. His motions were sensual and you whined and writhed on his hand already regretting that you let him do this to you making you just more aroused, aching for feeling something bigger inside.  

You felt yourself close to cum on his fingers and that reminded you why you are here in the first place. A part of you wanted to go on to chase that first orgasm, but another part of you wanted to fuel your anger that feeds upon your betrayed heart, even if you’re perfectly aware that it’s not Ashton’s fault, he just grabbed the opportunity your agreement provided for him.

Reaching down you got hold of his hand and without explaining yourself, slowly pushed it away while your other hand let go of his shoulder as you slightly rose on your knees to reach behind you and take his cock in your hand, pump it a few times and finally position him right under your entrance. As you slowly and carefully sat yourself back on him, the incomparable feeling of his shaft stretching you engulfed you making you throw your head back with a half-suffocated whine torn out of your throat. He slipped his hands under your dress to grab onto your butt and a low ‘Fuck’ left his mouth when he felt how deep he is inside you as you went all the way down to make him bottom out.

“The way you take me…” escaped his lips and you just bit on your lower lip as you weren’t exactly in a chatty mood, but his compliments and praises always appealed to you.

Your hands found their support on the back of his biceps as you started fucking him with a quick and harsh zest, grinding your hips on his for getting the most friction you can just have. You were bouncing up and down on his cock and he watched your clothed breasts precisely follow the intensity of your movements, your hard nipples darting out the fabric of the dress, sweat fallen down your spine. You could see in the way he looked at your heaving chest that he’s fighting the urge to touch your tits, to get them out of the cruel imprisonment of your dress.

However your own completion wasn’t priority in this current situation yet you got closer and closer to it and listening to Ash’s groans and the way he was taking breath, he was close too and his voice always added to your own pleasure, it could singlehandedly push you over that particular edge. As your moans got louder and more frequent, your arms wrapped around his neck, your temple pushed against his, and you gave yourself in to the feeling; his hands on your butt and his own moans in your ear encouraged you to let go. As your walls started to squeeze around his thick cock, your climax washed over you; closing your eyes, one of your hands slid down to the side of his neck as your lips brushed against his ear. In that moment his fingertips pushed into the soft flesh of your butt, his lips captured your earlobe, teeth slightly scratching the skin as he released his cum inside of you followed by a faint groan.

Your hips slowed down to a full stop and you two spent a few moments in silence to catch your breaths, foreheads touching and only your heavy breathing could be heard in the soundproof room. You rose just enough to pull him out and sat back on his lap.

“Now would you tell me what this was really about?” his index finger reached under your chin to gently tilt your head in order for your eyes to meet his gaze.

“Do you… erm... Are you seeing someone? I mean besides me” you don’t know what he could hear out of your voice but it sounded sad and ashamed even for you.

“No” came the surprised but firm and peremptory response immediately.

“Ash… I know I have absolutely no right…”

“No, I’m not lying to you. I’m not seeing anyone.”

“Then who was that girl you had breakfast with at the Breakfast House this morning?” you left a few seconds time for him to react but he was just staring at you like someone who had been caught, so you continued. “By the way, she’s beautiful, really. And I know I have absolutely no ground to even ask this from you since we agreed on no rules. But… Fuck it, it’s all the same now. A few weeks ago I started just realizing that I think of you more often. I’ve been out and saw something and my first thought was that ‘Ash would like this’. I tried to coerce these thoughts because you and I both hurt enough, but I had to admit, at least to myself, that I want you. I want more of you… not just the sex” you shyly played with the bottom of his t-shirt, but as you looked back up at him, you could see his lips slowly forming into a smile.

“Are you jealous?”

“Maybe I am, yes” your eyes poured out lightnings seeing that reckless and smug smile spreading on his face.

“You know, you’re not wrong. She’s really beautiful, indeed. She grew out to be a gorgeous woman,” his smile just grew bigger as he saw your puzzled expression. “But she’s my sister, Y/N.”

“Lauren Rose?”

“She’s here to visit some friends, and it turned out I could be grateful that she found a few hours in her strict schedule to meet his older brother at all” he chuckled.

“I’m an idiot” you leaned your forehead against his collarbone.

“No you’re not” he reached for your hand and intertwined your fingers. This is the very first time you two did this. And weirdly it feels incredibly intimate now. “Actually… I have no idea how much longer I could have waited to confess the same feelings to you… feelings I also carried for weeks now.”

“Why- why didn’t you say anything?” you asked in awe as your thumb drew soft circles on his hand.

“You seemed so persistent on the no relationship thing that I thought if I bring this up, I’ll lose you. And that was the last thing I wanted to risk…” hearing this confession your hand reached out to caress his face and you leaned in to kiss him gently. “I didn’t want to lose this… whatever we have. What do we have, Y/N?”

“Each other, I guess” you smile at him. “So… can we give this… us a chance?

“I’d like it very much. And you know what else I’d like? To take you out on a date. A real date.”

“I’d be very much into that. After changing into something drier. And cleaner…” hearing that he kisses into your neck smiling.

“Are you free tonight?” he grinned.

“I don’t know… I’ll ask my boyfriend. He’s a famous rockstar, you know…” you cupped his face in your hands and immersed in a gentle kiss that meant a new beginning for both of you.