#the media person had to ask this group of grown men to make sure they have their shoes on to go sign things?

[snakesanderson]

ummm ridly where are your shoes??

[kharmii]

Someone posted more garbage blaming male isolation on 'white guy culture' and 'capitalism', and then, like a coward, they made it so a person couldn't reblog. I still wrote something in reply:

No, it's not the usual bullshit sheltered left-wing college kids want to blame it on. No, everything isn't the fault of 'capitalism' or 'eeebul white guys'. Again, secular progressivism has caused more death and misery worldwide than all religious wars combined. If anything, leftwing culture has made everything more effed up for men with screw around culture creating an environment where we now have the greatest percentage of unmarried men in recorded history. For sure, it's not healthy for men to treat their SO as their only source of emotional support, but now they don't even have that.

Everything started going wrong during the Carter and then Reagan administrations in the 70/80's. Before then, men could get good paying jobs in a factory near where they lived and make enough money to support a wife being a stay-at-home mother and a couple of kids. Pushing women to enter the workforce 'for independence' is a huge scam foisted on us, because now we have a culture where both parents often have to work to barely afford a couple of kids and a mortgage. Women find it more noble to be cogs in the machine. Some people can't even manage the kids, (or they are lazy and selfish) so they end up with a butt-licking poop-eating stanky dog-child to get extra weird about.

Next thing you know; they're leaving rude comments about Kristi Noem shooting a damn dog (it's a fucking dog, calm down weirdos) while gushing, "I love my dog so much! Look at my shit-breath baby that just got done eating its own ass and is now licking off my ice-cream cone! Isn't that cuuuuute!"

Anyway, another problem we have (that goes along with the point about men in social clubs) is that we don't have close knit communities anymore. We don't have neighborhoods where everybody knows each other. How many people live in isolation on social media and don't even know their neighbors? How often do you see block parties or guys inviting the other guys on the street over for a cookout? Less people have children, so you don't meet new people having other peoples' kids knocking on your door asking if your child can play. (I suppose theoretically you could meet new people letting your stank-beast 'child' run around a dog-park).

-So then you have isolated men who have to meet other male friends through work. How would that work out for me if I was a male? It sure didn't work out for me being a female. I married and had children with a man from the other side of the goddamn planet while the losers I worked with labeled me as no fun because I wasn't into the Dem voting blue state party culture.

If you are a man in my place of employment, you have to be into the casino boats, betting pools, smoking pot jokes, telling the same stupid stories about getting drunk at bars and ballgames during your long-ago youth....and it's no wonder half of them ended up childless, unmarried weirdos in their forties and fifties. There was the one lowlife into fuck-and-dump culture, (and even he lived with his mom until age 40) but most of them are incels who are getting fatter and balder. None of them have grown into mature role-models with great character. None of them are the elders at the church or the guy you'd go to if you needed advice.

Side note: The guy they've talked into stalking me doesn't fit in with the culture. Under better circumstances, (like if he wasn't a misogynistic patronizing asshole who isn't even attracted to me, and I'm not really sure what the deal is.....) I might be into him, because for an older man, he's physically fit. He's into one of those Sierra Club type groups full of people doing outdoorsy shit, such as camping, hiking, canoeing..etc. He belongs to a lot of co-ed social clubs where they play cards on Thursdays or whathaveya...

Meanwhile, the flabby lowlife goobers complain that 'there's nothing to do in a small town! This is why so many men are dying of fentanyl!'

I've taken the piss about this so much. The Kharmii be like.......you mean there's not enough lowlife shit for low lives to do in a small town? Low lives have to OD on fentanyl out of boredom because there's not enough for dirty rotten low life scumbags to do? You have to drive all the way up to the suburbs for strip clubs and casino boats, and the Biden economy has made gas over $4/gallon?

[c-is-for-circinate]

For a long, large part of my life, being queer in a media landscape--finding queerness in a media landscape--has meant theft.

I'm a Fandom Old, somehow, these days, older than most and younger than some, in that way that's grown associated with grumpy crotchetyness and shotguns on porches and back in my day, we had to wade through our Yahoo Groups mailing lists uphill both ways, boring and irrelevant anecdotes from Back In Those Days when homophobia clearly worked differently than it does now, probably because we weren't trying hard enough. I've seen a lot of stories through the years. I've read a lot of fanfic. (More days than not, for the past twenty years. I've read a lot of fanfic.)

When people my age start groaning and sighing at conversations about representation and queerbaiting, when we roll our eyes and drag all the old war stories out again in the face of AO3 is terrible and Not Good Enough, so often what we say is: you Young Folks Today have no idea how hard, how scary, how limiting it was to be queer anywhere Back In Those Days. Including online, maybe especially online, including in a media landscape that hated us so much more than any one you've ever known. And that is true. Always and everywhere, again and again, it's true, we remember, it's true.

We don't talk so much about the joy of it.

Online fan spaces were my very first queer communities, ever. I was thirteen, I was fourteen, I was fifteen--I was a lonely, over-precocious "gifted kid" two years too young for my grade level in an all-girls' Catholic school in the suburbs--I lived in a world where gay people were a rumor and an insult and a news story about murder. I was straight, of course, obviously, because real people were straight and anyway I was weird enough already--I couldn't be two things strange, couldn't be gay too, but--well, I could read the stories. I could feel things about that. I would have those stories to help me, a few years later, when I knew I couldn't call myself straight any more.

And those stories were theft. There was never any doubt about that. We wrote disclaimers at the top of every fic, with the specter of Anne Rice's lawyers around every corner. We hid in back-corners of the internet, places you could only find through a link from a link from a link on somebody else's recs page, being grateful for the tiny single-fandom archives when you found them, grateful for the webrings where they existed. It was theft, all of it, the stories about characters we did not own, the videotaped episodes on your best friend's VHS player, one single episode pulled off of Limewire over the course of three days.

It was theft, we knew, to even try and find ourselves in these stories to begin with. How many fics did I read in those days about two men who'd always been straight, except for each other, in this one case, when love was stronger than sexual orientation? We stole our characters away from the heterosexual lives they were destined to have. We stole them away from writers and producers and TV networks who work overtime to shower them in Babes of the Week, to pretend that queerness was never even an option. This wasn't given to us. This wasn't meant for us. This wasn't ours to have, ever, ever in the first place. But we took it anyway.

And oh, my friends, it was glorious.

We took it. We stole. And again and again, for years and years and years, we turned that theft into an art. We looked for every opening, every crack in every sidewalk where a little sprout of queerness might grow, and we claimed it for our own and we grew whole gardens. We grew so sly and so skilled with it, learning to spot the hints of oh, this could be slashy in every new show and movie to come our way. Do you see how they left these character dynamics here, unattended on the table? How ripe they are for the pocketing. Here, I'll help you carry them. We'll make off with these so-called straight boys, and we only have to look back if somebody sets out another scene we want for our own.

We were thieves, all of us, and that was fine and that was fair, because to exist as queer in the world was theft to begin with. Stolen time, stolen moments--grand larceny of the institution of marriage, breaking and entering to rob my mother's hopes for grandchildren. Every shoplifted glance at the wrong person in the locker room (and it didn't matter if we never peeked, never dared, they called us out on it anyway). Every character in every fic whose queerness became a crime against this ex-wife, that new love interest. Every time we dared steal ourselves away from the good straight partners we didn't want to date.

And: we built ourselves a den, we thieves, wallpapered in stolen images and filled to the brim with all the words we'd written ourselves. We built ourselves a home, and we filled it with joy. Every vid and art and fic, every ship, every squee. Over and over, every straight boy protagonist who abandoned all womankind for just this one exception with his straight boy protagonist partner found gay orgasms and true love at the end.

Over and over, we said: this isn't ours, this isn't meant to be ours, you did not give this to us--but we are taking it anyway. We will burglarize you for building blocks and build ourselves a palace. These stories and this place in the world is not for us, but we exist, and you can't stop us. It's ours now, full of color and noise, a thousand peoples' ideas mosaic'ed together in celebration. We made this, and it will never be just yours again. You won't ever truly get it back, no matter how many lawyers you send, not completely. We keep what we steal.

.

Things shifted over time, of course. That's good. That's to be celebrated. Nobody should have to steal to survive. It should not be a crime, should not feel like a crime, to find yourself and your space in the world.

There were always content creators who could slip a little wink in when they laid out their wares, oh what's this over here, silly me leaving this unattended where anybody could grab it, of course there might be more over by the side door if you come around the alleyway (but if anybody asks, you didn't get this from ME). We all watched Xena marry Gabrielle, in body language and between the lines. We sat around and traded theories and rumors about whether the people writing Due South knew what they were doing when they sent their buddy cops off into the frozen north alone together at the end of the show, if they'd done it on purpose, if they knew. But over the years, slowly, thankfully, the winks became less sly.

A teenage boy put his hand on another teenage boy's hand and said, you move me, and they kissed on network TV, in a prime-time show, on FOX, and the world didn't burn down. Here and there, where they wanted to, where they could without getting caught by their bosses and managers, content creators stopped subtly nudging people around the back door and started saying, "Here. This is on offer here too, on purpose. You get to have this, too."

And of course, of course that came with a whole host of problems too. Slide around to the back door but you didn't get this from me turned into it's an item on our special menu, totally legit, you've just got to ask because the boss throws a fit if we put it out front. Shopkeepers and content creators started advertising on the sly, come buy your fix here!, hiding the fine print that says you still have to take what you've purchased home and rebuild it with your semi-legal IKEA hacks. Maybe they'll consider listing that Destiel or Sterek as a full-service menu item next year. Is that Crowley/Aziraphale the real thing or is it lite?

And those problems are real and the conversations are worth having, and it's absolutely fair to be frustrated that you can't find the ship you want on sale in anything like your color and size in a vast media landscape packed full of discount hetships and fast-fashion m/f. It's fair to be angry. It's fair to be frustrated. Queerbait is a word that exists for a reason.

There's a part of me that hurts, though, every time the topic comes up. It's a confusing, bad-mannered part of me, but it's still very real. And it's not because I'm fawning for crumbs, trying to be the Good, Non-Threatening Gay. It's not that I'm scared and traumatized by the thought of what might happen if we dare raise our voices and ask for attention. (Well. Not mostly. I'll always remember being quiet and scared and fifteen, but it's been a long two decades since then. I know how to ask for a hell of a lot more now.)

It's because I remember that cozy, plush-wallpapered den of joyful thieves. I remember you keep what you steal.

Every single time--every time--when a story I love sets a couple of characters out on a low, unguarded table, perfectly placed to be pilfered on the sly and taken home and smushed together like a couple of dolls, my very first thought is always, always joy. Always, that instinct says, yay! Says, this is ours now. As soon as I go home and crawl into that pillow-fort den, my instincts say, I will surely find people already at work combing through spoils and finding new ways to combine them, new ways to make them our own. I know there's fic for that. I've already seen fic for that, and I wasn't really interested last time, but the new store display's got my brain churning, and I can't wait to see what the crew back at the hideout does with this.

Every time, that's where my brain goes. And oh, when I realize the display's put out on purpose, that somebody snuck in a legitimate special menu item, when the proprietor gives me the nod and wink and says, you don't have to come around the side, I know it's not much but here--there is so much joy and relief and hope in me from that! Oh, what we can make with these beautiful building blocks. Oh what a story we can craft from the pieces. Oh, the things we can cobble together. Look at that, this one's a little skimpy on parts but we can supplement it, this one's got a whole outline we can fill in however we want. This one technically comes semi-preassembled, and that's boring as shit and a pain to take back apart, but that's fine, we'll manage. We're artists and thieves. I bet someone's pulling out the AU saw to cut it to pieces already.

And then I get back to our den, which has moved addresses a dozen times over the years and mostly hangs out on Tumblr now (and the roof leaks and the landlord's sketchy as fuck but at least they don't charge rent, and we've made worse places our own). And I show up, ready for joy--ready for a dozen other people who saw that low-hanging fruit on that unguarded table, who got the nod and wink about the special menu item, who're ready to get so excited about this newest haul. Did you see what we picked up? The theft was so easy, practically begging to be stolen. The last owner was an idiot with no idea what to do with it. The last owner knew exactly what it could become, bless their heart, under a craftsman with more time on their hands, so they looked away on purpose at just the right time to let me take it home. I show up every time ready for our space, the place that fed me on joy and self-confidence when I was fifteen and starving. The place that taught me, yes, we are thieves, because it is RIGHT to take what we need, and the beautiful things we create are their own justification. We are thieves, and that's wonderful, because nothing is handed to us and that means we get to build our own palaces. We get to keep everything we steal.

I go home, and even knowing the world is different, my instincts and heart are waiting for that. And I walk in the door, and I look at my dash, and I glance over at twitter, and--

And people are angry, again. Angry at the slim pickings from the hidden special menu. So, so tired and angry, at once again having to steal.

And they're right to be! Sometimes (often, maybe) I think they're angry at the wrong people--more angry with the shopkeeper who offers the bite-sized sampler platter of side characters or sneaks their queer content in on the special menu than the ones who don't include it at all. But it's not wrong to be mad that Disney's once again advertising their First Gay Character only to find out it's a tiny sprinkle of a one-line extra on an otherwise straight sundae. It's not wrong to be furious at the world because you've spent your whole life needing to be a thief to survive. It's far from wrong. I'm angry about it too.

But this was my den of thieves, my chop shop, my makerspace. Growing up in fandom, I learned to pick the locks on stories and crack the safes of subtext at the very same time I learned to create. They were the same thing, the same art. We are thieves, my heart says, we are thieves, and that's what makes us better than the people we steal from. We deconstruct every time we create. We build better things out of the pieces.

And people are angry that the pre-fab materials are too hard to find, the pickings too slim, the items on sale too limited? Yes, of course they are, of course they should be--but my heart. Oh, my heart. Every single time, just a little bit, it breaks.

Of course the stories are terrible (they have always been terrible). Of course they are, but we are thieves. We steal the best parts and cobble them back together and what we make is better than it was before. The craftsman's eye that cases a story for weak points, for blank spaces, for anywhere we can fit a crowbar and pry apart this casing--that's skill and art and joy. Of course we shouldn't have to, of course we shouldn't have to, but I still love it. I still want it, crave it. I still thrill every time I see it, a story with hairline cracks that we can work open with clever hands to let the queer in.

That used to be cause for celebration, around here. I ask him to go back to the ruins of Aeor with me, two men together alone on an expedition in the frozen north, it feels like a gift. And I understand why some people take it as an insult. I understand not good enough. I understand how something can feel like a few drops of water to someone dying of thirst, like a slap in the face. If it was so easy to sneak it hidden onto the special menu, to place it on the unguarded side table for someone else to run off to, why not let it sit out front and center in the first place? I know it's frustrating. It should be. We should fight. We should always fight. I know why.

But my heart, oh, my heart. My heart only knows what it's been taught. My heart sees, this thing right here, the proprietor left it there for you with a nod and a wink because they Get It. It's not put together yet, but it's better that way anyway. It's so full of pieces to pull apart and reassemble. I bet they've got a whole mosaic wall going up at home already. We can bring it home and make it OURS, more than it was ever theirs, forget half of what it came from and grow a new garden in what remains.

And I go home to find anger, and my heart breaks instead.

[raineydays411]

My Father's daughter pt 3

Tony Stark x daughter!reader

Summary: Back at the Tower, Y/n has a talk with Pepper.

a/n: ohhh another part finished!! some new characters will be revealed next part and i’m so great full for @social-media-imagines-by-me fir helping me create them💕💕

You were furious.

You stormed into your room and slammed the door, finding satisfaction in the loud bang it produced. You then ripped through your drawers and closet, pulling on some work out clothes and some gloves. You then marched out of the room, slamming the door again, startling Sam and Bucky who happened to be passing by.

"Geez kid, slam it a little harder I don't think it fell off the hinges yet." Sam jokes, but you were in no joking mood so you swirled around with fire in your eyes.

"You okay doll?" Bucky softly asks, pushing a frightened Sam to the side. You sigh, knowing it's not fair to take out your anger on them.

"Sorry Sam, it's just...my biological mom is here and wants me to move in with her."

"Oh..." Bucky says, not good with things like this, " Do you want me to like...kill her or..."

"NO" You laugh, " It's just I haven't seen her in nine years and she has the audacity to come up here like it's nothing?!"

Your anger returns, " She thinks that just because she pushed me out of her vagina"

The two men cringe at the words

"That she can just claim me? That's not how it works!" You shout, " And, she brought her fucking husband. The man she left us for! Who does that?!"

Bucky looks at Sam, mentally asking him what they should do. Sam just rolls his eyes and turns back to you.

"Come on kid, it looks like you wanna punch something."

and with that he lead you to the training room where Steve was training with Peter.

"Come on queens, you gotta stay on your feet" Steve k=jokes as he, again, trips Peter.

"Mr. Rogers, do you think we should take a break?" Peter pants.

You stride pass them, not bothering to say hi. They look at Sam and Bucky for an explanation and just get a shake of the head.

"Hey Y/n that's my punching" Steve started to say when he saw you throw a hard punch to the bag, "Nevermind..."

You ignore the group behind you, opting to pummel the poor punching bag in front of you.

Your mind flashes back to your mother and her words.

"A girl needs her mother"

*punch*

"Oh petal I wanted to call"

*punch* *punch*

"Come to Gotham. Meet your siblings!"

*BANG*

You look down to see the punching bag flew off the hook and is spilling sand on the floor. You were confused, as you knew you weren't strong enough to do that, not even when you were angry.

"Wow, I guess Cap didn't secure that hook again."

You jump, not expecting someone to be there, as you heard Sam, Bucky, Steve, and Peter leave. You turn to see Pepper there looking at the bag in surprise. You sigh, stepping away from the mess and taking off your gloves. You make your way to the bench and take a swig of water.

"Did you need something Pep?" You ask, avoiding eye contact.

"Well, i was just wondering if my kid was okay. But given the fact that you punched that bag like it would restore your honor.."

You knew you shouldn't have showed her Avatar.

"I'm assuming your not." She finishes.

You give her a half smile, looking down at your hands.

"Y/n" She says, " Talk to me."

You finally speak, "Why now?"

Pepper frowns, understanding that small phrase, ' I don't know."

"She's not my mother." You state, " She...she might have been once but now?"

Pepper nods," I love you."

You smile, the words reassuring you, " I love you too Pep."

"Come on, your messing up your manicure." She says with a smile, standing and extending a hand towards you. You feel your demnor soften and your mood lighten. Pepper always managed to make you feel better.

"Yeah okay..thanks." You say, taking her hand and letting her pull you from the bench, " Are you hungry? Cause I am>"

"Y/n we just ate!"

"Like an hour ago"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Days went by and you hadn't heard a peep from Christine. It was like she went off to lick her wounds and just decided not to reach out again.

Which didn't bother you one bit.

But apparently the universe wanted to fuck with you because when you came home from a day out with Peter, there was your mother, Bruce Wayne, and all six million of her fucking kids sitting on the couch.

"What the fuck?" You say causing the attention to turn to you.

"Language" Peter says, You smile softly at him before then turning to glare at Tony.

"Don't look at me, it was your moth-uh Peppers idea." Tony stumbled, looking rather uncomfortable sharing a drink with the man that his...wife? girlfriend?... whatever she was left him for.

"Pep what?" You asking, softening your glare because you'd be damned if you disrespected her.

"I just think it'd be best if we clear the air and get everything out on the table." Pepper said in that tone she uses when she's dealing with difficult people or the press. You called it her CEO tone.

"Now, go take your bags upstairs and wash up. And I'll pretend that you aren't an hour late"

"It was Peter's idea..." You mumbled and walking to the stairs that lead to the bed rooms.

"It was not!" Peter shouts following you to the rooms to help with the bags.

Christine watched as her daughter walked out of the room, playfully arguing with Peter. It was as if she were a whole different person, carefree and playful. Totally different from when she was glaring and stiff when talking to her. It broke her heart hearing Tony refer to Pepper as her Mother rather than Christine. But what did she expect?

Damian scoffed catching her attention, "Mother I do not see why you've dragged us here, that girl didn't even acknowledge us."

"Damian, enough" Bruce said, not looking away from his awkward conversation with Tony.

"Gee if only I could do that with our kids." Tony mutters into his drink.

"Does Y/n argue often?" Bruce asks trying to engage in conversation.

Tony laughs before fondly speaking, " Sort of. She isn't the type to back down when she thinks something is right. There was this one time I caught her arguing with one of my business partners about his "condescending tone and misogynistic attitude"."

""And did she apologize after?"

"Hell no. She glared at me and told me apologizing just for his ego would be demeaning her experiences as a woman. Although to be fair he was an asshole."

Bruce chuckles, " She sounds like a well rounded young woman. How old was she then?"

"Ah about 10, it was funny seeing this little girl argue in a Justin Bieber shirt argue about the patriarchy with a full grown man."

Bruce and Tony shared a laugh, picturing the scene.

"You must be very proud of her." Bruce mentions after they quieted down. Tony let a small smile escape.

" I am. She's had a rough life, and I..." Tony trails off, " She means everything to me. Without her...I don't think I'd be the same person I am today."

And with that, Tony downed his drink and stood, " Want another?"

Bruce smiled and accepted, watching Tony leave. He can tell that the man was close to his daughter. A bond that formed due to a loss, they both grew from it and grew closer. He understood, thinking about his own children.

Pepper and Christine were having a somewhat similar conversation, although it was a little more tense.

"So...Pepper-"

"Virginia." Pepper said, cutting her off.

"Excuse me?"

"My name is Virginia. Pepper is a nickname my family calls me."

"Oh. Okay, Virginia, how long have you known Y/n and Tony?"

"Oh about nine or so years. I was promoted to assistant when I saw how much of a mess Tony was." Pepper said casually.

Dick and Jason tensed, overhearing the tense conversation between the two mothers. But before Dick could interrupt Jason sat him back down.

"I wanna see what happens."

Christine continued, " And when did you become a..more permanent around the house?"

"When I saw that Y/n the one taking care of Tony." Pepper said in a serious tone, "She was the one making sure he didn't choke on his vomit and eating cereal as his flings walked out the room. Then he got kidnapped...and y/n was alone. So I made sure she’d never be alone again.”

Christine heart sank. She knew about the whole kidnapping thing. Why she didn't step in, she doesn't know. It's just another thing she regrets to this day.

Before Pepper could continue, she heard two sets of footsteps and voices

"All I'm saying is, if he looks at me funny, I'm fighting him and that's that."

"Yeah maybe not the best impression on..." Peter cuts off when they reach the living room. Eyes again on the two of you.

"Let's get this over with." You muttered, saying bye to Peter and making way over to the couch to sit next to Pepper.

"Y/n!" Christine says happily, " I'm glad you're here. We brought you something!"

She pulls out a box and she carefully hands it over to you.

You look at it suspiciously before getting a nudge from Pepper.

"Thank you." You grit out. Earning a glare from Damian and Cassandra.

You open the box to see...cupcakes.

"They're the peanut butter strawberry cupcakes you used to like. Remember? I used to bring them when I came to see you." Christine says, trying to bring up good memories.

You frown and close the box, " I'm allergic to strawberries."

Lie.

Pepper casts a glance towards you, "They look lovely, let me take them into the kitchen, I'll check on dinner."

And with that she takes the box and leaves into the kitchen. Leaving you and Tony alone.

"So...Stark" Damian started fixing his gaze on you.

"Yes, Wayne?" You said, matching his energy.

"What exactly is it you want from my mother?" He asks, earning a groan from his older brothers.

"Well, I'd appreciate it if she left me alone." You say with a straight face.

Christine frowns but before she says something Damian speaks up again.

"Tt, all this drama for the likes of you? It's honestly disappointing" He drawls, trying to get under your skin.

"Damian!" Christine scolded.

"Well, I apologize for not meeting your standards. I'd try harder if I cared what a toddler thought of me."

Jason let out a surprised chuckle while the rest of the family looked on in shock. Tony just rolled his eyes.

"I do not understand why Mother insists on rekindling her relationship with you. You obviously weren't worth the effort the first time around." He spits, causing the rest of the family to gasp.

You however, just laugh, " When you figure it out, let me know. It's probably the same reason she puts up with you."

Damian glares, about to start in again when Jason cuts him off " Shut up Demon. She got you man."

"Tt"

"I'm Jason, and anyone who can out that brat in check is good in my book." He says sending you a smirk.

You smile back, " I'm friends with Loki and Wade Wilson, I'm hardly affected by anything anymore." Your dad rolls his eyes again, he’s not exactly enthusiastic about your choice in friends.

You like this one. Probably the one you're gonna be able to stand in this family.

"Don't hog her Jason!" Dick shouts pushing him away before turning to smile at you, " Hi! I'm-"

"Dick Grayson. I know, you spilled your champagne on my dress a few years ago at a New Years gala." You say, still a little bitter about it.

"Oh. heh, right, sorry about that. Again." He says sheepishly.

You turn to Cassandra, " You're Cassandra. You and your friend cornered me in the bathroom."

Cassandra scowls and looks away.

Then you turned to Tim, " And you need to learn how to secure your fire walls better."

Tim looked at you confused, "Um excuse me?"

You smirked, " Just a suggestion. I assume you don't want people to know about your...bats in the attic?"

The whole family froze.

You knew? There was no way.

"Kid, are you hacking again?" Tony said exasperatedly, " You promised you'd stop after the last time."

"Hey it's not my fault Shuri didn't think about changing her password." You say defensively, “ and it’s not like you were complaining when you had me hack into SHEILDS databases”

“What was that!?” Pepper shouts from the kitchen.

“Heheh, nothing dear.” Tony shouts back then in a hushed voice scolds you, “ I gave you fifty bucks to keep that a secret.”

“I didn’t say what you had me retrieve.” You said smugly leaning back in your chair.

Bruce didn’t know how to feel.

On one hand, this teen that objectively hates his family, knows their biggest secret. She can singlehandedly destroy their family and expose them. And she has the means to.

But on the other, she’s a perfect fit for their family. She gets along with Jason, doesn’t let Damian get under her skin, and from the looks of it can definitely take care of herself. Only thing is, again, she hates his wife and by association, his family.

“I’m sorry, hacking? You know that’s illegal right?” Tim asks, still in shock that you got past his security systems.

You turn to him and in a bored tone replied , “Yeah? and?”

Tim stuttered for a bit before going quiet with a blush. It was adorable really.

You had to hold back a laugh, it was fun getting this stuffy family all riled up. Especially when you can see the disapproval in Christines face.

“Tony, you let our daughter participate in illegal activities??” Christine asks with a raised brow.

The table goes silent at the tone of her voice. Knowing that when she uses it someone is really in trouble.

But you roll your eyes because how are you supposed to know what that tone means?

“I let my daughter express herself in a ...healthy way. She knows her limits.” Tony replies cooly, taking a drink and looking back into the kitchen wondering where Pepper went.

”Obviously not. Tony she has no regard for the laws at all! You think i didn’t see the headlines last year?!”

Ah yes, last year you had a slight scandal where you may have punched a pap for trying to get a picture up your skirt but who wouldn’t?!

“ And you let her hang around criminals and terrorists?!”

You scoff, “ Oh please everyone in the Avengers was a criminal or terrorist at least once.”

“Not helping kid.” Tony says, “Christine, you and your family have no right to come into my home and judge my family. I’ve been civil. Hell maybe a little too much. Mainly because if I wasn’t, my wife—err Fiancée, would kill me.”

You snicker, earning a few glares.

“Look the point is, don’t tell me how to raise my daughter. Especially because I was doing it all alone.” Tony finishes with a sigh.

The table goes silent. You were getting tired of all the tense silences today.

“ Look.” You turn to Christine, “ I get that you probably feel guilty or something because you ditched me. And I appreciate that or whatever.”

You were not good at this.

“ But I don’t wanna live with you.”

Christine looks down sadly, “ Y/n I just...I just want to get to know you again. You’re my baby.”

Before you could answer you heard a crash come from the kitchen and smoke fill the rooms.

“ Pepper?!” You cough, “ Dad what’s happening?!”

“ I don’t know. Stay here” He says summoning his suit.

“FRIDAY?!” You shout, but not hearing the AI.

The Wayne’s all looked at each other in panic. They didn’t bring their suits, thinking it was just a dinner.

You turn to them and shout “ Come with me, and stay low!”

You start to lead them to the stair case, knowing that the rooms were relatively safe.

“Come on!” you yell when they don’t follow you.

Christine stands from her seat and makes to follow you before being stopped by Damian.

“Mother we cannot..”

“Damian, I’ve had about enough of you. Let’s go.” She says sternly and follows you. The rest of the family following behind as Bruce nudges Damian.

“ Come on son.”

“Father we don’t know where she’s leading us.” Damian says stubbornly.

“There’s nothing we can do right now.” he coughs.

The sounds of punching and the blasts come from the kitchen.

“Let’s go.”

They finally join the rest of the family. You have them crouched in the hallway.

“ This is James’ room. Dad had it modified just incase he was ever triggered into the Winter Solider again. No ones getting through this door when it’s locked.”

You usher them in.

“Come on Y/n” Christine says reaching a hand out to you.

You smirk, “ What? and miss all the action?”

You close the door and lock it before leaving. Laughing at their surprised faces.

The room is silent.

“ She’s awesome!” Jason says with a laugh.

[foreverindreamlandd]

To Be Wanted (1): The Cat in the Alley

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Plus Size!Reader

Summary: All your life you have wanted to be loved by someone. But when you don’t look like most “beautiful” women, you learn to stop wanting. You’d never expect someone like the amazing, kind, beautiful Bucky Barnes would desire someone like you.

Word Count: 2.4k

A/N: I am very new to writing fic so I am going to try to make this into a series! Eek! Please bear with me. This story started with me looking through my Timehop and just feeling all the sad feelings looking back on memories that I knew brought heartbreak. I hope that writing this will help me heal from shit and learn to love myself. With that, a quick warning that this fic does deal with some self-loathing about being plus-sized so if you do read please be kind to yourself like I am learning to. Thanks for reading. <3

Series Masterlist / Series Playlist

————-

You weren’t sure when you lost hope in the idea of men finding you attractive.

It was a slow progression, each mini heartbreak from a rejection building up until you had grown completely numb. At least, that’s what you told yourself. You didn’t always feel numb when a guy you liked ended up pursuing a friend. Even though you anticipated it, there was still a sting like salt to a wound. You just tried to pretend that the wound was an old scar that couldn’t reopen.

Looking at your Timehop, seeing social media sub-posts or photos of former crushes, recalling them messaging you asking to hook you up with your blond, beautiful, skinny best friend. Acting as the third wheel on dates so that person A and person B could hang out without it feeling awkward. The guy from college who would hang out in your dorm until late hours of the night and then complain to your friends behind your back that you had a crush on him and that he was disgusted by the idea. Even though they didn’t seem that grossed out that one night he invited you to his room to watch a movie that you don’t remember actually watching.

Why would they like you and your societally hated appearance? Your plus-size body that didn’t even fit the big boobs, big butt standards. Just a weird shape with no redeeming qualities. Sure, your personality was great and you were the funniest one in your group (your preferred armor had always been humor), but men didn’t focus on that in the beginning. It was like you had to earn their attraction when it came so easily for other women.

It was way easier to be here, on the internet, scanning through fics on Tumblr or AO3 and escaping to a world where you were “You,” the heroine of every story that the chosen romantic counterpart (your favorite one being the Avenger Bucky Barnes) thought was the most amazing, brilliant, beautiful woman to ever exist.

It was a nice change of pace. To be desired. To be loved.

To be wanted.

Even if it wasn’t real.

So now, in your late twenties, instead of online dating (where men say that “most women don’t consider themselves hookup gals until they’ve met the right guy.” Yikes.), or going out on the weekends where you spend the whole night comparing yourself to all of the beautiful, skinny girls in crop tops and mini skirts, you spend your nights here. Alone, fantasizing about a life that will never be yours.

You can spend your life like this, you think. You can focus on friends, family, work, your cat Willa, and live in a make believe world written by someone else to experience romance.

You never thought that the fanfic would turn into real life.

------

Bucky is going to kill Sam.

Yes, they had just saved the world from another catastrophic event and Sam officially claimed the shield and the identity of Captain America and Bucky would now consider him to be his best friend, but that doesn’t make it so that he doesn’t want to throttle him every once in a while.

Like now, while he has another photo of a random woman pushed to his face.

“Come on, man! How about her? She’s beautiful, a nurse, and does archery! She sounds awesome! And it says she’s a sucker for men with blue eyes.” He nudges Bucky’s arm with his elbow.

Bucky pushes the phone away and groans. “Man, can you please just let this go! I’m not interested in her. Not interested in anyone!”

It’s true. Bucky tried the dating apps for a few months and went on a few dates, but nothing ever came from them. First of all, it was hard to convince his dates that he really did prefer wearing a leather jacket and gloves at all times. Then the panic would set in about what would happen when he did finally take those off in front of them. He could picture their looks of horror as they stared at his giant metal arm. Yeah, that doesn’t really scream romance.

There’s also the whole being brainwashed by Nazis and held in an ice box for 70 years in order to prolong your life and do their bidding. Bucky was finally starting to heal from all of the trauma caused by that horrific time as the Winter Soldier, but he still finds it hard to connect emotionally with someone nowadays.

So yes, though this woman is beautiful and very intriguing and Bucky can totally imagine his old self taking her out for dancing, he has zero interest in pursuing anything with her or anyone else. He’s finally starting to enjoy the life he has now and is starting not to hate himself. He wants to have the time to appreciate it while he can before making it complicated….again.

“Okay okay, fine.” Sam whines, taking back his phone and pressing a few more buttons. “...but what about this one? CEO of her own startup company…”

“That’s it,” Bucky exclaims, getting up from the couch and walking towards the door. “If I come back to another photo of a woman on your phone, I’m crushing it with my vibranium hand and throwing it out the window.”

Bucky can hear Sam cackling as he shut the door and head outside.

-------

You’re going to kill Willa.

Like, seriously? You thought the two of you had an understanding that inside your apartment was the only place the cat could stay. Never outside. SOMETIMES you would let her hang out on the fire escape with you, but only under your supervision and on a leash.

So the fact that she chooses this moment (right before you’re about to head out for a meeting you’ve been preparing for for months) to sneak through your legs, down the five flights of stairs and through the open door of the entrance building to your apartment as your neighbor walks inside is a huge breaking of trust.

You run after her and onto the sidewalk, frantically looking left and right to see where she went.

“Willa, come ON,” you yell out into the street, out of breath from running down the stairs while trying not to break your ankles in your wedge-heels. “I do not have time for this!!!”

You see a small black figure dart down the alley from across the street and run after her.

Unfortunately, you’re too focused on rescuing your cat from the monstrous rats that dwell in the alleys of New York City to notice the car that is driving down the street and about to hit you.

You actually only have half a second to pause and reflect on this error in judgment and moment of impending death before the wind is knocked out of you and you’re being pulled out of the way and onto the ground.

But instead of the ground, you’ve landed on something, someone. Your face is resting on a black t-shirt covering an extremely solid chest, and you’re wondering if you landed on a statue instead of a person. When you look up, however, your gaze meets ice blue eyes filled with concern that shifts into relief, and just a bit of annoyance.

He looks....familiar.

Bucky is trying to even out his breathing after the sudden adrenaline rush. Relief floods over him when he sees that you’re okay and not pinned underneath the tires of a Subaru. He looks down at you and into your eyes, which are half closed in a daze.

You quickly move to stand up while frantically saying, “Oh my gosh, thank you so much. I’m so sorry I didn’t-” you apparently get up a little too quickly because now the world is spinning and you feel as if you’re about to actually hit the pavement this time. Before that can happen the strong arms that had saved you before grab you once again to steady you.

“Easy,” Bucky says, giving you time to ground yourself. “Unfortunately I had to throw you out of the situation in a pretty rough way and I’m sure your brain is still trying to catch up.”

He quickly looks you up and down to see if there are any cuts or marks on from the fall. Luckily, your emerald green floral sundress has no tears, and you only have a small cut on the palm of your hand that had landed on the pavement and not on Bucky’s body like every other part of you did. He keeps telling himself that he’s staring into your eyes to make sure they aren’t glassy or unfocused, signifying some head trauma from being whipped around by a super soldier. But, honestly, he’s just struggling to look away from them, entranced by the way they seem to sparkle. Has he ever seen eyes do that before? He can’t seem to remember.

Finally, his stupor breaks and he asks, “What were you doing running across the street like that?”

You remember with a gasp. “Oh god,” you exclaim, “Willa!” You move away from him and run toward the alley

Bucky’s brows furrow as he turns to follow you, running at a slightly slower gate. “Willa?”

“My cat! She escaped my apartment and has never been outside and the rats are going to get her!”

He frowns. “The rats?”

“You know, street rats! And not like Aladdin. The giant rodents that lurk in the alley waiting for their next prey. They could get her!”

Bucky ignores the Aladdin reference that goes completely over his head and looks around the alley for said Willa. “What does she look like?”

You stop running and walk through, scanning every single surface in an effort to find her. “She’s a small black cat. Looks like an anxious mess.”

Bucky mutters under his breath, “I wonder where she gets it from.”

You look over your shoulder at him and give your iconic glare. Mom says it reminds her of the look your grandmother used to give her when she was growing up. And boy howdy does it work. Bucky feels like a kid in trouble while at the receiving end of this look and continues the search.

The nice thing about being a super soldier is the ability to hear every minute sound that is often missed by normal human hearing, and Bucky picks up a soft noise just a few feet ahead of you. He walks past, hyper-focused, and stops just past a pile of trash bags.

There, he finds a small black cat playing with a balled-up newspaper. He silently waves you over, not wanting to startle Willa into sprinting farther down the alley.

You slowly walk up to your feline friend, holding out your hand. “Willa,” you chirp in your most lovey-dovey cat voice. “Come here, honey.”

Willa turns around and is about to make a run for it when you jump into action and grab her little body, securing her into a tight hold in your arms you’ve learned to master in the three years of owning her. Though she originally seemed to want to flee from you, she purrs loudly in your arms.

You turn back to Bucky, who appears impressed by your speed and agility. “Well,” he says, “Looks like you got to her before the street rats could. Although her run-in with that piece of trash seemed a bit treacherous.”

You laugh, and to his surprise, Bucky’s heart flutters at the sound of it. It’s so soft, so warm, so….lovely. “Thank you,” you respond. “For helping me find her and, well, saving my life. I promise I’m not this much of a mess.” That’s a lie, but he doesn’t need to know that.

“No problem. I mean, please don’t run across the street in front of a car again, but I’m happy that I was there to hurl your body to safety.” He gently reaches his hand out to Willa, who nudges her head against it. Bucky smiles. He’s always had a soft spot for cats. You swear that for a second your heart stops at the sight of this beautiful man smiling in front of you.

That moment gets interrupted by the memory of that moment from a few minutes ago flashes into your head and you grimace. It horrifies you to think of your large body crashing on top of his. “Speaking of which, are you okay?” He’s wearing a leather jacket and gloves (in the middle of July….okay, dude) so you can’t see if he has any scrapes from the fall.

Bucky shakes his head. “Yep, totally fine.” He holds up his arms to prove that there are no visible tears in his clothing or cuts on him. “This jacket is indestructible. It’s saved me from a couple of spills on my bike and still doesn’t have a mark on it.” Shuri had given it to him as a gift a few years ago for the first Christmas after everyone had returned from the blip. She had casually mentioned that she’d been experimenting with turning regular clothing into armor, and Bucky certainly put her work to the test. The thing had taken a few bullets and it still looked brand new.

You allow yourself two glorious seconds to imagine yourself riding on the back of his motorcycle with him in that jacket and then force yourself back to reality. “Okay, well, thank you again. You’re literally a lifesaver.” Willa starts squirming in your arms trying to break free. “I should get this lady inside before the rats arrive. Oh! What time is it?”

Bucky glances at his watch. “Five minutes to 2.”

“Shit,” you exclaim, rushing back to your apartment. “I’m so sorry I have to run. I have a meeting at 2. Definitely going to be late now.” You groan as you run to the edge of the sidewalk. Before you cross, you make a point to stop, look both ways, and head to the other side to the entrance of your apartment. You can hear Bucky chuckle behind you.

Once he’s sure that you have safely made it into your apartment building, Bucky continues his way down the street.

------

Next Chapter

[exovapor]

I'm OBSESSED with your writing. Can you try.. Maybe, Donnie being a filthy boy being an 'stalker-ish' of his long time crush? Be checks their FB for new posts, saves every picture of them he finds? He doesn't mean to be a creep, feels guilty, but just doesn't know how to ask for more than friendship?

Good afternoon Anon. Here is my short story in relation to your ask.

I wasn't sure where you wanted me to take this, so I had to do a bit of guessing on my part. I hope this something like you were wanting.

I will admit that this ask was a bit of a struggle for me, not knowing a clear direction to take it outcome made me a little unsure of my writing and guessing abilities LOL. However, I will admit to crying along with the characters in this story more than once.

Thanks again for the ask and the initial compliment. I hope to continue to earn your favor in future posts.

· Stalker [noun]: 1a person who harasses or persecutes someone with unwanted and obsessive attention. 2a person who hunts game stealthily.

· Donnie stared at the definition on his one of his monitor screens while his various other screens were busy flashing receipts of files downloaded, text trail streams from your phone, notices of any social media post/update/like/heart/emoji, a GPS line grid of your routes today (overlayed over the routes you’d taken previously), and data search hits of anything and everything that pertained to you.

· At this point, the boy had literally every picture you had ever posted, anywhere, of yourself. In fact, he had all the pictures that other people posted of you in them. He had even gone through the effort of designing a face recognition program that picks you out of the background of total strangers’ pictures and, yeah, he had those in a file too.

· He has special file folders that compile things that you like, things you don’t like, things that make you happy, things that make you sad. He is your own personal Pinterest and you didn’t even know it… and maybe that is the part that keeps bothering him so much.

· He sits staring at that word and definition and chewing his bottom lip. True, he knows the word and the meaning, but he needed to LOOK at it, analyze it, mull it over in his guilt ridden brain.

· He just KNEW the word Stalker couldn’t apply to him.

· After all, he isn’t harassing or persecuting you, you don’t know! So, it isn’t necessarily ‘unwanted attention’. It is just…unknown attention.

· Stealthily, hmmmm, did that part apply to him? Well, He isn’t EXACTLY being stealthy.

· If you knew about technology like him, then you would probably see his programs running on your devices and be alerted to his activities. AND, if you shared his love and view of technology, then you would probably be more understanding of his activities and not consider them stealthy…just data mining. In fact, you might applaud him.

· ‘Ok, that was taking it a bit too far’, Donnie thinks to himself and he feels a band tighten and squeeze around his infatuated heart.

· He is almost certain that you would be shocked to learn of his extra curricular activities and how they revolve around every aspect of you.

· Regardless of how he tried to spin the truth and wiggle out of the definition of stalker, Donnie still felt guilty for invading your privacy. However, he honestly couldn’t help himself…at least not anymore.

· He has fought the urge, the nagging thoughts and the burning need, to know more about you for what seemed like an eternity.

· Listen to him, he is starting to sound dramatic like Mikey! What is his turning into? He is losing his rational edge!

· To be accurate, it hasn’t been an eternity. In fact, he has known you 1 year, 36 days, 14 hours, 11 minutes, and 23 seconds to be exact. However, you started occupying space in his mind 2 minutes into meeting you and your claim over his mind has grown exponentially over time.

· You were quiet and reserved during that first meeting, so there wasn’t much to go on. It started as a simple visual interest with a thought of ‘Oh. She’s pretty’.

· However, then you started talking and that changed everything.

· You opened up more and more each time you hung out with their little group, revealing layers and layers of interests and personality. You were fascinating…and that’s when his thoughts about you really started to snowball and spiral out of control.

· You went from being a simple pretty face to being a walking embodiment of everything he seriously ever dreamed of having in a mate.

· Early on, there were three sticking points that really made Donnie’s feelings problematic. 1. He was a nearly seven foot tall walking talking turtle and you weren’t. 2. You had a boyfriend that you were deeply in love with and adored. 3. Donnie was too insecure about #1 and how you felt about inter-species dating to let you know that you had started to OWN his heart.

· Now, thanks to his surveillance, there were only two sticking points….#1 and #3.

· He still remembers the feelings of that day, 44 days ago, when the blip of information popped up on this screen alerting him to the fact that your boyfriend was starting to stray.

· Donnie had severely conflicting feelings bombard him at once and it was overwhelming.

· The initial knee jerk reaction was elation, one of the problems blocking him from you may soon be null.

· However, the feeling of elation only lasted for a second or two before the intense anger and sadness set in. Donnie was honestly shocked at the depth of his anger, he didn’t even know he had that level of malice in him. Had he been in physical proximity to your boyfriend at that moment in time, Donnie isn’t sure that he wouldn’t have hurt your guy…or worse.

· How COULD this guy do this? WHY would he? He HAD YOU! What the heck was this guy thinking? Not only did he have you, but you thought the world of him. When you spoke about him you would smile so genuinely, your eyes would shine and gaze off into a bright imagined future. Donnie was always so jealous to watch it happen, he wondered what it would be like to be THAT GUY. And here the idiot was throwing it all away and meeting up with another girl!

· WHAT THE…(yes, this called for a curse) HELL…IS WRONG WITH HUMAN MEN?

· As the anger set root in his heart, the sadness engulfed Donnie like an all-consuming wave. He realized he was going to have to share this information with you, somehow, and that he was going to have to watch as it destroyed you.

· At first, Donnie had a plan to try and save you both from that fate. True, it would hurt him more to save your relationship, but he would rather be the one facing the pain and not you.

· He TRIED to circumvent the situation. He sent anonymous messages to your boyfriend stating that he knew about the infidelity and that he would tell you if needed. However, it didn’t seem like your boyfriend cared because he sent messages back stating Donnie could, basically, go fuck himself.

· Life had cruel sense of irony, thought Donnie, that is exactly what I do since this moron has the woman that I love.

· So, after trying for nearly two weeks to stop what was happening behind your back, Donnie had no choice but to let you in on the secret.

· Donnie couldn’t come right out and tell you that he caught your boyfriend cheating by hijacking your data streams and the data streams of those around you. So, Donnie intercepted some texts between your boyfriend and his mistress and he then sent you a text, under the guise of your boyfriend, telling you to meet him at a specified restaurant for a date.

· It had been a gut wrenching night for Donnie. He remembered watching it all play out on camera feeds from around the restaurant and street outside. He watched you dressed up in your pretty dress get out of your cab in front of the restaurant. You had such a lovely smile on your face, you must have thought you were in for a romantic evening.

· He watched as you walked inside and how the hostess got flustered and confused by a 2nd girl showing up for your boyfriend’s seated-for-two table.

· Donnie stopped breathing as your eyes found the new couple holding hands and giving each other sweet kisses across the table. Hands and lips that were supposed to be yours were touching some stranger.

· Donnie watched your smile and eyes die…the light of your inner sun go out…

· …and it killed him.

· He’s not sure who was crying the hardest, you standing there in that restaurant witnessing the scene or him back at the lair watching your world crush around you on his monitor.

· It had taken a while for you both to recover from that night.

· His brothers noticed his melancholy mood for a couple of weeks but Donnie wouldn’t tell them what was bothering him. And you stayed in your bed, refusing to face the world, for nearly as long.

· Eventually, the group began to notice your silence and absence, so April stopped by your apartment to check on you. She was the one to pull you out of bed, get you to shower and eat. She visited everyday and made sure you had someone to vent to and a shoulder to cry on.

· Donnie was glad that April could be there for you when he couldn’t. He didn’t think it was appropriate for him, a male, to be your confidant at that time. Especially since he felt so much guilt over having to be the one to expose you to that pain.

· No, he didn’t CAUSE the pain, but he did have to make you face it and he didn’t like not being able to protect you from it. You were such a rare, precious creature and watching you in pain felt like he was suffocating slowly.

· There were some points during those first few weeks that he questioned if he did the right thing, but logic told him it would have eventually come to pass with or without his involvement. It was better to rip the bandage of quickly and let you start to heal than it was to let you linger and drag out the inevitable.

· Donnie did secretly check on you every single night during patrol. And, of course, his surveillance feeds were always running. He watched from a distance as his beautiful phoenix burn down to ashes and, eventually, started to rise again.

· Now, it’s been over 3 months and you’ve begun to be more like your old self. Donnie can tell there is a silent sadness there, but you are able to laugh and smile with the group during your get togethers. And each time you two are left alone, his mind nags at him about those last two sticking points.

· Would you be at all interested in him? And HOW does he go about telling you that you have become the center of his world?

· Still staring at the monitor and the Stalker definition, Donnie sighs and rubs the bridge of his snout to release of the pressure now pushing against the inside of his head. The memories of what has happened, the emotions of what was and what is, it was all starting to be too much.

· “Bro, what’s all this?”, Mikey says standing behind Donnie’s chair, talking around a mouth full of pizza.

· “NOTHING!”, says Donnie, voice breaking from the stress of being caught. A startled Donnie quickly taps some keys on his keyboard and the screens revert back to the standard lair camera feeds.

· Mikey may look or even come off as naïve at times, but he’s no fool, he can sense that his older brother is trying to hide something. “Dude, seriously, what was that? I’ve been standing back here reading the screens. I saw Y/N’s name and that looked like her phone number on that other file…, you know the file that looks like texts messages. And why is there a plotted map of the area around her apartment, her work, and to the lair? What’s up?”, Mikey said giving a disapproving look at being thought a pushover.

· “Just standard surveillance, Mikey, nothing to worry about.”, Donnie says trying to placate Mikey’s curiosity. Donnie hates lying, especially to Mikey, but he’s feeling so guilty about being such a…(inward sigh)…stalking creep that admitting the truth is hard to do.

· Mikey stands there staring at Donnie and, as he does, Donnie begins to fidget with his computer chair armrests.

· Mikey stuffs the remnants of the pizza slice into his mouth and does his best Leo impersonation by crosses his arms and staring down at Donnie as sternly as his jolly face can achieve, “Dude, I’m not going to ask you again. You’ve been weird for months. We’ve let it go for the most part but now you are hiding things from me…from ME, dude! You and I, we’re like peanut butter and jelly, we’re ice cream and chocolate fudge, we young dudes have got to stick together. Trust me, bro, I’ve got you!”.

· Donnie stared at the floor, too ashamed to meet Mikey’s eyes any longer. He gave a heavy sigh and reluctantly started to speak, “Sorry Mike, I…I honestly don’t know what’s come over me lately. I’m doing things I never thought I would do, I’m feeling so guilty about it, but I don’t know if I can stop doing it either. I feel…lost.”.

· Mike relaxed his leader stance and leaned against one of Donnie’s lab tables, “Bro, I can tell you’ve been carrying some heavy stuff lately. You need to let it out.”

· Donnie felt the heat rise up through his body like he was suddenly being consumed by a fire and he ripped his glasses off his face and drew them down on the desk in frustration, “Mikey, I’m in love with Y/N. I have been for a while. I have been…”, Donnie hangs his head in shame, “…tracking all her digital foot prints and watching her. In fact, I’m the reason she found out that asshole boyfriend of her's cheated.”

· Mikey’s mouth drops open at Donnie’s demeanor and use of the word ‘asshole’, “Whoa, dude, why didn’t you say something earlier?”.

· Donnie can feel a stinging at the corners of his eyes, this was so embarrassing, so frustrating, so…..so many things at a once. He didn’t have a response for Mikey, all he could do was shake his head.

· Still with his head hung down and staring at the floor, Donnie starts to hear Mikey chuckle. Donnie looks up to see Mikey’s eyes on him and for some reason they are full of merriment at his painful dilemma. Donnie stares at his, normally, very considerate brother in astonishment, this isn’t like Mikey at all!

· “Mikey, I’m more than serious here, now is not the time to make fun of me. What is so funny?”, Donnie asks exasperatedly.

· Mikey shakes his bald head and claps his brother on the shoulder with his green hand, “Bro, she thinks you’re cute.”.

· “W-What?!”, Donnie stammers out.

· Mikey, still chuckling, says, “Yeah, dude, that’s why I asked WHY you didn’t say something about liking her sooner, she’s always thought you were cute. She and I talk about it all the time.”.

· Donnie just stares at his jolly brother in silence. His mind is too blown to form a sentence.

· Mikey turns to leave stating, “And by the way, dude, stop watching her like that…that’s just creepy.”.

@turtle-babe83 @tmntspidergirl @kokokatsworld @nittleboo @the-second-circle-of-shell

[soundsfaebutokay]

So I've recc'd this video before, but it deserves its own post because it's one of my favorite things on youtube. It's a Tedx Talk by comics writer, editor, and journalist Jay Edidin, and I really think that it will connect with a lot of people here.

If you live and breathe stories of all kinds, you might like this.

If you care about media representation, you might like this.

If you're neurodivergent, you might like this.

If you're interested in a gender transition story that veers from the norm, you might like this.

If you love the original Leverage and especially Parker, and understand how important it is that a character like her exists, you will definitely like this.

Transcript below the cut:

You Are Here: The Cartography of Stories

by Jay Edidin

I am autistic. And what this means in practice is that there are some things that are easier for me than they are for most people, and a great many things that are somewhat harder, and these affect my life in more or less overt ways. As it goes, I'm pretty lucky. I've been able to build a career around special interests and granular obsession. My main gig at the moment is explaining superhero comics continuity and publishing history for which work I am somehow paid in actual legal currency—which is both a triumph of the frivolous in an era of the frantically pragmatic, and a job that's really singularly suited to my strengths and also to my idiosyncrasies.

I like comics. I like stories in general, because they make sense to me in ways that the rest of the world and my own mind often don't. Self-knowledge is not an intuitive thing for me. What sense of self I have, I've built gradually and laboriously and mostly through long-term pattern recognition. For decades, I didn't even really have a self-image. If you'd asked me to draw myself, I would eventually have given you a pair of glasses and maybe a very messy scribble of hair, and that would've been about it. But what I do know—backwards, forwards, and in pretty much every way that matters—are stories. I know how they work. I understand their language, their complex inner clockwork, and I can use those things to extrapolate a sort of external compass that picks up where my internal one falls short. Stories—their forms, their structure, the sense of order inherent to them—give me the means to navigate what otherwise, at least for me, would be an impassable storm of unparsable data. Or stories are a periscope, angled to access the parts of myself I can't intuitively see. Or stories are a series of mirrors by which I can assemble a composite sketch of an identity I rarely recognize whole...which is how I worked out that I was transgender, in my early thirties, by way of a television show.

This is my story. And it's about narrative cartography, and representation, and why those things matter. It's about autism and it's about gender and it's about how they intersect. And it's about the kinds of people we know how to see, and the kinds of people we don't. It's not the kind of story that gets told a lot, you might hear a lot, because the narrative around gender transition and dysphoria in our culture is really, really prescriptive. It's basically the story of the kid who has known for their whole life that they're this and not that, and that story demands the kind of intuitive self-knowledge that I can't really do, and a kind of relationship to gender that I don't really have—which is part of why it took me so long to figure my own stuff out.

So, to what extent this story, my story has a beginning, it begins early in 2014 when I published an essay titled, "I See Your Value Now: Asperger's and the Art of Allegory." And it explored, among other things, the ways that I use narrative and narrative structures to navigate real life. And it got picked up in a number of fairly prominent places that got linked, and I casually followed the ensuing discussion. And I was surprised to discover that readers were fairly consistently assuming I was a man. Now, that in itself wasn't a new experience for me, even though at the time I was writing under a very unambiguously female byline. It had happened in the letter columns of comics I'd edited. It had happened when a parody Twitter account I'd created went viral. When I was on staff at Wired, I budgeted for fancy scotch by putting a dollar in a box every time a reader responded in a way that made it clear they were assuming I was a man in response to an article where my name was clearly visible, and then I had to stop doing that because it happened so often I couldn't afford to keep it up. But in all of those cases, the context, you know, the reasons were pretty obvious. The fields I'd worked in, the beats I covered, they were places where women had had to fight disproportionally hard for visibility and recognition. We live in a culture that assumes a male default, so given a neutral voice and a character limit, most readers will assume a male author.

But this was different, because this wasn't just a book I'd edited, it wasn't a story I'd reported—it was me, it was my story. And it made me uncomfortable, got under my skin in ways that the other stuff really hadn't. And so I did what I do when that happens, and I tried to sort of reverse-engineer it to look at the conclusions and peel them back to see the narratives behind them and the stories that made them tick. And I started this, I started this by going back to the text of the essay, and you know, examining it every way I could think of: looking at craft, looking at content. And in doing so, I was surprised to realize that while I had written about a number of characters with whom I identified closely, that every single one of those characters I'd written about was male. And that surprised me even more than the responses to the essay had, because I've spent my career writing and talking and thinking about gender and representation in popular media. In 2014, I'd been the feminist gadfly of an editorial department and multiple mastheads. I'd been a founding board member of an organization that existed to advocate for more and better representation of women and girls in comics characters and creators. And most of my favorite characters, the ones I'd actively seek out and follow, were women. Just not, apparently, the characters I saw myself in.

Now I still didn't realize it was me at this point. Remember: self-knowledge, not very intuitive for me. And while I had spent a lot of time thinking about gender, I'd never really bothered to think much about my own. I knew academically that the way other people read and interpreted my gender affected and had influenced a lifetime of social and professional interactions, and that those in turn had informed the person I'd grown up into during that time. But I really believed, like I just sort of had in the back of my head, that if you peeled away all of that social conditioning, you'd basically end up with what I got when I tried to draw a self-portrait. So: a pair of glasses, messy scribble of hair, and in this case, maybe also some very strong opinions about the X-Men. I mean, I knew something was off. I'd always known something was off, that my relationship to gender was messy and uncomfortable, but gender itself struck me as messy and uncomfortable, and it had never been a large enough part of how I defined myself to really feel like something that merited further study, and I had deadlines, and...so it was always on the back burner. So, I looked, I looked at what I had, at this improbable group of exclusively male characters. And I looked and I figured that if this wasn't me, then it had to be a result of the stories I had access to, to choose from, and the entertainment landscape I was looking at. And the funny thing is, I wasn't wrong, exactly. I just wasn't right either.

See, the characters I'd written about had one other significant trait in common aside from their gender, which is that they were all more or less explicitly, more or less heavily coded as autistic. And I thought, "Ah, yes. This explains it. This is under representation in fiction echoing under representation in life and vice versa." Because the characteristics that I'd honed in on, that I particularly identified with in these guys, were things like emotional unavailability and social awkwardness and granular obsession, and all of those are characteristics that are seen as unsympathetic and therefore unmarketable in female characters. Which is also why readers were assuming that I was a man.

Because, you see, here's the thing. I'm not the only one who uses stories to navigate the world. I'm just a little more deliberate about it. For humans, stories formed the bridge between data and understanding. They're where we look when we need to contextualize something new, or to recognize something we're pretty sure we've seen before. They're how we identify ourselves; they're how we locate ourselves and each other in the larger world. There were no fictional women like me; there weren't representations of women like me in media, and so readers were primed not to recognize women like me in real life either.

Now by this point, I had started writing a follow-up essay, and this one was also about autism and narratives, but specifically focused on how they intersected with gender and representation in media. And in context of this essay, I went about looking to see if I could find even one female character who had that cluster of traits I'd been looking for, and I was asking around in autistic communities. And I got a few more or less useful one-off suggestions, and some really, really splendid arguments about semantics and standards, and um...then I got one answer over and over and over in community after community after community. "Leverage," people told me. "You have to watch Leverage."

So I watched Leverage. Leverage is five seasons of ensemble heist drama. It's about a team of very skilled con artists who take down corrupt and powerful plutocrats and the like, and it's a lot of fun, and it's very clever, and it's clever enough that it doesn't really matter that it's pretty formulaic, and I enjoyed it a lot. But what's most important, what Leverage has is Parker.

Parker is a master thief, and she is the best of the best of the best in ways that all of Leverage's characters are the best of the best. And superficially, she looks like the kind of woman you see on TV. So she's young, and she's slender, and she's blonde, and she's attractive but in a sort of approachable way. And all of that familiarity is brilliant misdirection, because the thing is, there are no other women like Parker on TV. Because Parker—even if it's never explicitly stated in the show—Parker is coded incredibly clearly as autistic. Parker is socially awkward. Her speech tends to have limited inflection; what inflection it does have is repetitive and sounds rehearsed a lot of the time. She's not emotionally literate; she struggles with it, and the social skills she develops over the series, she learns by rote, like they're just another grift. When she's not scaling skyscrapers or cartwheeling through laser grids, she wears her body like an ill-fitting suit. Parker moves like me. And Parker, Parker was a revelation—she was a revolution unto herself. In a media landscape where unempathetic women usually exist to either be punished or "loved whole," Parker got to play the crabby savant. And she wasn't emotionally intuitive but it was never ever played as the product of abuse or trauma even though she had survived both of those—it was just part of her, as much as were her hands or her eyes. And she had a genuine character arc. My god, she had a genuine romantic arc, even. And none of that required her to turn into anything other than what she was. And in Parker I recognized a thousand tics and details of my life and my personality...but. I didn't recognize myself.

Why? What difference was there in Parker, you know, between Parker and the other characters I'd written about? Those characters, they'd spanned ethnicities and backgrounds and different media and appearances and the only other characteristic they all had in common was their gender. So that was where I started to look next, and I thought, "Well, okay, maybe, maybe it's masculinity. Maybe if Parker were less feminine, she'd click with me the way those other characters had." So then I tried to imagine a Parker with short hair, who's explicitly butch, and...nothing. So okay, I extended it in what seems like the only logical direction to extend it. I said, "Well, if it's not masculinity, what if it's actual maleness? What if Parker were a man?" Ah. Yeah.

In the end, everything changed, and nothing changed, which is often the way that it goes for me. Add a landmark, no matter how slight, and the map is irrevocably altered. Add a landmark, and paths that were invisible before open wide. Add a landmark, and you may not have moved, but suddenly you know where you are and where you can go.

I wasn't going to tell this story when I started planning this talk. I was gonna tell a similar story, it was about stories, like this is, about narratives and the ways that they influence our culture and vice versa. And it centered around a group of women at NASA who had basically rewritten the narrative around space exploration, and it was a lot more fun, and I still think it was more interesting. But it's also a story you can probably work out for yourselves. In fact it's a story some of you probably have, if you follow that kind of thing, which you probably do given that you're here. And this is a story, my story is not a story that I like to tell. It's not a fun story to talk about because it's very personal and I am a very private person. And it's not universal. And it's not always relatable, and it's definitely not aspirational. And it's not the kind of story that you tend to encounter unless you're already part of it...which is why I'm telling it now. Because the thing is, I'm not the only person who uses stories to parse the world and navigate it. I'm just a little more deliberate. Because I'm tired of having to rely on composite sketches.

Open your maps. Add a landmark. Reroute accordingly.

[comeandreadawhile]

I love your Clone Social Media post! Do you think they'd ever film/post responses to the SW equivalent to the reddit advice threads like r/Relationships or r/AmITheAssh0le? Or would any of them (the medics maybe?) develop an Ask Column? I feel like the clones would have a unique world view and their personalities would lend to some hilarious (or amazing) advice going out on the holonet.

Definitely. Kix and the other medics probably start an ask blog crossed with WebMD, drowning in gallows humor

“‘How quickly can you amputate a leg?’ That depends, how close is the nearest Jedi’s lightsaber?”

“‘I can’t stop sneezing and I have a fever’—sounds like Rhinovirus, no known cure. Terrible shame, but you might live.”

Ponds runs an Ask Abby/Miss Manners ask column about clones and Jedi, with Mace as a reference for the Jedi and a popular guest for philosophical debate.

Gree makes sci-show vlogs about alien species and documents his brothers’ antics. Sometimes Bly makes guest appearances to talk science.

As for r/relationships and r/AITA, Wolffe co-admins both, with Bly on the former and Rex on the latter. Pretty much every AITA post is responded to with ‘yes’, either earnestly, or with blatant sarcasm for the ‘no’s followed by why it’s a no. While Bly has the rose-tinted glasses on for the relationship blog, Wolffe is that one perpetual single in every friend group who gives stone-cold logical advice.

Stone is on Space!youtube, explaining laws and their pros and cons, explaining loopholes and weird technicalities and the process of the Senate to pass laws, as well as updates from around Coruscant. It’s basically the SW version of Last Week Tonight.

Fox runs r/JustSenatorThings. He documents the antics and mannerisms of senators. He also answers personal questions.

“How often do I—hey, Thire! What’s this word?”

“How’s it spelled?”

“S-L-E-E-P.”

“FOX.”

“No, I know how to spell that.”

Thorn runs r/JustFoxThings. He documents the on-going war between the caf mug stack vs Fox’s paperwork.

There emerges Space!Insta, where GAR clone art is posted. Dogma posts foodporn, both actual food and GAR rations. “Here we see another beautiful nutrient stick. Full of 100% of a brother’s daily iron requirement and not a hint of flavor to be found.” He sneaks into the temple when the 501st is planetside to document the snack bar in the knights’ quarters. It’s only open odd hours and there is a single hotdog spinning, on and on, that none of the knights will even make eye contact with.

Toast clone runs a blog solely about different types of bread and his attempts at making them in the meager kitchens he has access to.

Wooley and Tup make hair tutorials, taking requests and experimenting on their own time. 212th and 501st meet ups are fun for them.

A space!reddit is made of Cryptid Commanders, made by their men finding said commanders up at force-forsaken hours getting caf, once of Bly hanging from the ceiling with the camera light reflecting off his helmet visor, and of Fox passed out in various ways around his office.

Space!Tiktok is sees a lot of Ahsoka and her men. Unfortunately Rex and Anakin are terrible at tiktok dances, so they’re usually her camera crew while Fives and Tup back her up; it starts a craze. Caleb (and eventually Depa) dance with Gray and their men, which means Mace and Ponds have to do something (classy of course, but it pleases the kids so Mace does it and will never admit to it being fun), Aayla and Bly look well rehearsed but claim they did it by mirroring the video reference they had on, eventually Ahsoka, Shaak, Aayla AND Luminara do one together. Quinlan does them just to annoy his commander; it works. The clones are more than happy to answer questions their followers send in as well, about themselves or the war, about anything. They like giving civilians the chance to see them in a better, individual light than dime a dozen flesh droids.

There begin r/JustCloneThings where brothers post about specifically clone related jokes and issues, and r/JustJediThings, where they post about their Jedi. (When your Jedi says the drop zone failed the vibe check.) (Won’t sleep for more than ten minutes but will meditate for four hours because the Martial Commander smiled.)

(If you suspect your Jedi knows Mando’a, switch to complete gibberish and see if they react at all. Feel free to make up hand signs to mess with them.)

Then come the proud big brother postings about their Jedi commanders, the good ole Mandalorian genes making the men gush over their respective kids when it’s safe to do so. The kids making progress in their training, and some have the honor of seeing their commanders knighted and made generals. They teach the little ones to track and lay low, how to shoot straight and wield vibroblades when they’ve grown some. Sometimes just the kids being cute, like Caleb napping against Depa, or Kal riding his master’s shoulders, and Ahsoka snuggling between Anakin and Rex on a long flight. ‘Doting grandmaster’ is a popular tag thanks to Mace and Obi-wan; Caleb and Ahsoka get away with things Depa and Anakin would’ve been severely grounded for, and the clones love watching them steam in the background while their padawans are protected by said doting grandmasters.

Note: the cursed hot dog is a joke between my roommate and I. Upon learning the knights’ snack bar existed, we determined it was only open for ten minutes at 2 am and that there’s a magical enigmatic hot dog amongst the misfit food (cotton candy jello, broken granola bars). It guards the temple and anyone who takes it and eats it gets super sick, and the hot dog is magically whole back in its case, ever rolling, on and on. It’s not meat, probably. No one’s sure, especially not the ones who attempted to eat it. Respect and fear the hot dog. It is eternal.

[sinner-as-saint]

You Know Just What I Need.

Head of Security!Reader x Bucky Barnes AU.

Run-through: Freshly out of uni, Bucky Barnes comes back to live in his family home. Given he’s the only son of a billionaire, he needs security around at all times. And his dad puts you in charge of his son’s safety until he comes home from a business trip. You intend on doing your job as perfectly as always, but what you didn’t know it that Bucky is a spoilt brat who is only interested in pestering you and making your life a living hell… until eventually you are left with no other choice but to teach him a lesson in order for him to learn how to behave.

Themes: spoilt brat!Bucky, smut, fluff, slight dom!reader,

a/n: I was re-reading my bodyguard!stucky au the other day and I thought, what if the roles were reversed…? Enjoy!

“He’s here.”

One of the guards spoke through the comms, signaling you that Bucky Barnes was here. You were in the monitor room upstairs, watching over all the live footage of security cameras placed around the Barnes’ property. You observed the one at the gate and watched how the expensive car made its way through the gates.

He’s here.

You walked out of the room and made your way downstairs, on your way to meet your boss’ only son. You were the head of security, working for Mr. Barnes. You led an entire team who helped you in directing the rest of the staff employed by Barnes. Whenever your boss was away – which was always – every decision regarding the properties and companies went through you first.

Security processes, new policies, and most financial decisions, legal or illegal transactions – basically everything needed your seal of approval when the boss was away. You and Mr. Barnes had a comfortable bond since day one, he trusted you immensely, which is why you had been handed over the responsibility of taking care of his son, Bucky, until the latter’s father comes back from a business trip.

Basically the son was your responsibility for the coming weeks. Rumor had it that the young man was a nightmare; the complete opposite of his father. Since your job allowed it, you stalked him on his many social media platforms as soon as you received the phone call from your boss, just to get an insight of what you were getting into. You spent hours scrolling through the many pictures Bucky posts all the time. And so far, you gathered that he was; a brat, a party animal, spends his father’s money like it’s no one’s business on expensive cars and clothing. He enjoyed the finer things in life.

Oh well, you thought to yourself, this one is going to be quite a handful. Besides, rich kids hate security anyways.

 You got downstairs and found some of the guards standing at the foyer, you joined them and they all gave you courteous nods. You noticed how they all stopped slouching as soon as you approached them, they stood straight. You smirked a little. Your job did require you to be somewhat intimidating and controlling, but you liked it. You quite enjoyed the power which came along the job.

In less than a minute, he finally walked through the doors; the one and only – Bucky. He entered the house with a gait which radiated arrogance. You refrained from rolling your eyes at him and his almost visible cockiness. But, you expected no less.

Dressed in all black, leather jacket and boots; you had to admit he was an attractive young man.

“Well, well, there’s nothing better than coming home after 5 years and being welcomed by a group of guards!” he sassed, looking at the guys. And you saw how he did a double take when he saw you. He did that thing that most men do when they see you for the first time; stare.

Perfect hair, minimal makeup, bold red lip, high heels for the aesthetics and wearing a tailored black suit with a white button down shirt – you looked great and you knew it. So you let him stare, just like you let all of them stare. Only not many men approached you, most of them were intimidated.

But Bucky wasn’t one of those, no. Bucky was shameless, and cocky and confident. He walked right up to you, eyed you up and down and smirked.

“Aren’t you a sight for sore eyes! What’s your name, beautiful?” he asked, surprising you a little. But surprising the rest of the guards even more. They all turned their heads in sync to look at the exchange between you and Bucky. Because no one ever dared to talk to you like that before.

You smirked and tilted your head up just a little, looked Bucky right in the eyes. “Y/N. Head of security. My team and I were appointed by your father to keep you away from trouble until he gets back home. Because you’re unable to do so on your own despite being a grown man.” You answered with a straight face and nothing but sarcasm lacing your words.

Bucky was a little taken aback, usually women melt under his stare – but not you. He heard a chuckle or two come from the group of guards who stood nearby and he felt a little, just a little intimidated. But he liked that. You were fiery, and he was digging it. “Anything else, Mr. Barnes?” you asked again, breaking his little reverie.

He shook his head. “No.” he still had that damn smirk on his face.

You faked smiled at him. “Very well then, Wilson will show you to your room. He and Quill will be your bodyguards for the days to come.” You briefly explained, and pointed to Sam and Peter.

Bucky spared them a dirty look and by the time he looked back at you, you began walking away. “Hey, wait!” he called out after you. You stopped and turned around, refraining from rolling your eyes again. Bucky smirked, and walked over to you again.

“Why can’t you be my bodyguard? You seem badass enough for that. Besides, we could really have a lot of fun together you and I.” he finished with a wink.

You flashed him another faint, fake smile. “Mr. Barnes, you should know that I have a lot more important things that require my attention. My team needs me to help run your father’s company while he’s away. I can’t possibly do that and babysit you at the same time.” You leaned in just a little and whispered the last sentence just so the guys won’t hear you.

Bucky chuckled as you stared at him for another second before turning around, leaving him behind again. And oh did he enjoy watching you walk away. He had never had any woman be so uninterested in him before. So this was very new to him. And he was intrigued.

 Like you said, his two bodyguards showed him to his room where he spent the rest of the day. He thought of you, shamelessly, while he showered. Self-abusing himself under the warm water as he thought of your bold personality, and those irresistible eyes of yours… and your red lips, and your body… and the way you carried yourself, confidence and power surrounding you. He had only met you hours ago, but he wanted you. Bad.

He made a mental note to pester you and annoy you until you finally give in. because he was Bucky Barnes, whatever he wanted he got. And right now there was nothing more he wanted than you. Bucky didn’t know exactly where or how this would go, but one thing he knew for sure – he had to have you.

---

The next two days were absolutely terrible. Actually, the days were fine; it’s Bucky who made them terrible.

It started out when your boss called you, asking you if you could stay under the same roof as his son. For the latter’s safety and well-being, because there was no one else he trusted around his son more than you. Not having the heart to say no to the old man, you agreed.

Bucky was excited when he heard this decision made by his father. And suddenly, all of his shirts went missing. He paraded around with just his sweatpants on, purposely entering and leaving the room which you were in several times just to get your attention.

Sure it was annoying, but you couldn’t complain much; he was fit. Now you knew why he had so many girls around him all the time on all of his social media posts. The guy was hot!

He annoyed you even more by constantly flirting with you, without hesitation. Or he would do this thing where he would purposely walk by you, and make sure his body brushes against yours each time. But you worked for his dad so there was nothing you could do or say. However no matter what he did, he was never disrespectful.

He even tried to have your number, to which you denied at first. Then he thought he blackmailed you by saying what if he gets in trouble one day and how he should have it just in case. And you rolled your eyes and gave him your number just so he would shut up.

But he didn’t.

Given you had to live with him, you settled in one of the many guest bedrooms. You chose the one on the ground floor, trying to be as far away from Bucky’s room as possible. But still, he annoyed you all through the night by texting you incessantly. And it was always cheesy texts which made you question how is he a 25 year old adult;

‘I can’t sleep. Come cuddle me?’

‘I know you’re awake. Are you possibly thinking about me? ;)’

‘I would sleep better with you here with me yk’

‘I’m all alone… in my bed… thinking of you… with my hand wrapped around my big… Bible because I pray to God that one of these days you respond to my messages jfc’

 You would never respond to any of his messages. You would just laugh and turn your phone on silent each night before going to bed.

It’s alright, you told yourself, I can keep him safe and ignore him at the same time, right?

 Wrong.

A few days later, Bucky received an invite to a prestigious party being held in the city by one of his father’s closest friend and long-time business ally. And given his dad wasn’t here, Bucky was the one who would have to go in his place, he couldn’t possibly miss it.

But there was a problem – Bucky needed a date.

 “Absolutely not.” You denied him right when he came into the study room, where you were dealing with paperwork, asking you to be his date for the party tomorrow.

He sighed dramatically. “Why not? If you go as my date, you could keep an eye on me as well.” He approached you by the book shelf and stood a little too close. He leaned in and whispered, “Because I tend to misbehave a lot.” He breathed in your ear in his deep, velvety voice.

And you felt a tingle dance down your spine when he whispered in your ear, but you convinced yourself it was nothing.

You thought over it. His dad had specifically asked not to let him go anywhere on his own. Plus, you wouldn’t trust him on his own. Lately even Sam and Peter had been complaining that he could be unmanageable.

“Fine.” You agreed on going as his date to the party.

---

The lavish party was being held at an equally grand mansion.

You should have known it was a bad idea to come here as Bucky’s date. Because not only was he absolutely shameless and flirty, and annoying but this spoilt brat also took the liberty to tell everyone that you were his girlfriend before you could stop him or correct him.  

And soon, you two became the talk of the room; he noticed that the men gave him envious glares while you noticed that the ladies gave you envious glares.

“We look great together.” He whispered in your ear and proceeded to lean down and kiss your cheek and pulled you closer while the two of you were slow dancing, after he begged you to. And you had to keep fake smiling as you looked up at him with nothing but annoyance in your eyes.

You kept your hands around his shoulders while he smirked and placed one of his hand right on your butt. “Come on, admit it.” He said, full of cockiness.

You gently moved his hand from your ass to the side of your leg, where your thigh holster was, with a handgun in it. His smirk disappeared for a few moments as he felt the gun through your stunning evening gown and you smirked this time, looking up at him.

Just for show, you leaned in to kiss his cheek as well. “Try that again and I’ll shoot you and make it seem like an accident.” You whispered in his ear and pulled away to fake smile at him.

Bucky chuckled. “Can’t tell if you threatened me or turned me on even more, babe.” He whispered, winking at you and you rolled your eyes at him.

 You left the dimmed dance floor as soon as the song ended. And you went to grab your clutch and went to get a drink at the bar. You sipped on it lazily, then noticed that Bucky wasn’t by your side yet; annoying you like he had been all night. You turned around, expecting to find him near you somewhere. But you didn’t see him.

You panicked for a moment. But then your phone rang in your clutch. You answered it immediately once you saw that it was Bucky.

“Where the hell are you?” you whisper-yelled through the phone.

He chuckled. “Aww, miss me already? Can’t even leave you for a few minutes? Jesus, you’re so obsessed with me.” He sounded just as cocky as ever. And even though you couldn’t see him, you knew he had that damn smirk on his face right now.

You sighed, less worried now that you knew he was alright. “Bucky, where are you?” you asked, your tone serious.

“We have a problem.” He answered.

“We?”

“Well I do, but you’ll have to fix it. It’s bad.” He spoke again.

You sighed again. “Everyone here already thinks I’m dating you. What could be worse?”

He fake gasped over the phone. “Wow that hurt. Okay but seriously, I spilled my drink all over my shirt. I have another set of clothes in the car. I need your help, please.”

“Where are you?” you asked, clearly annoyed but you had no other choice but to help him.

“Upstairs’ library.”

You ended the call in his face and sighed again. You swallowed the rest of your champagne and asked one of the guards who came with you to go get Bucky’s clothes. You managed to hide from the crowd and get to him in less than a few minutes.

And there he was, standing in the middle of the spacious library. Shirtless, hands in his pockets. And with his signature smirk on.

“That was quick.” He sounded amazed, “Can’t away from me for long, can you babe?” he tilted his head to the side and gave you one of his famous smirks.

You rolled your eyes at him and handed him the shirt and tie on a hanger. “Seriously, get dressed.” You wouldn’t lie, you did check him for a few seconds because sure he was an annoyance, but he had a body to die for. Abs, Adonis belt, a sinful trail of hair starting from his lower stomach all the way down to-

“Take your time. I’m not going anywhere, stare all you want.” He sounded cocky once he caught you checking him out. He leaned in closer, “I’m all yours.”

You sighed again, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh please. I don’t have time for young, immature boys.” You gave him another one of your fake smiles and turned around to leave. But he stopped you again.

You turned back around to face him as he finished buttoning up his shirt. “What?” you sounded like you were done with him.

He didn’t say anything, he just lifted the tie up to your face and gave you another idiotic but somewhat adorable grin.

Of course, you should’ve known he couldn’t tie his own tie. You wouldn’t even be surprised if he didn’t know how to knot his own shoelaces. You grabbed the black tie and walked up to him, throwing it around his neck and stepped up closer to tie it into a perfect knot. He stared at you the whole time.

“You’re really pretty, you know that?” he pointed out, with a big smile on his pretty face.

You glared at him, then looked back down to focus on getting the knot right. And he spoke up again, “I said, you’re really pretty y-,”

You cut him off. “I heard you the first time. I’m seven years older than you, so quit it.” you clarified, thinking the age gap would be a turn off for him. But it was quite the contrary.

He smirked when he heard that you were older. “That’s hot.” He commented, and honestly you expected no less from him. You glared at him again and he casually wrapped his arms around you and pulled you close to him. So close that his lips almost touched yours.

You tried ignoring how your heart fluttered.

“I have a gun on me right now, I suggest you behave before I do something we both regret.” You spoke monotonously, as always and he just smirked.

“I get all tingly when you threaten me like that, babe.” He was incessant.

You abruptly tightened the tie way too much on purpose and his eyes widened for a second as he struggled to breathe for a moment. You pulled his face closer to yours by tugging on the tie. “Enough.” You whispered, looking him dead in the eyes and making it just a little uncomfortable for him to breathe.

You let go of him after a few seconds and walked away without another word said. And once again, he didn’t shut up when he should have. “You look even better when you’re walking away!” he called out after you and it took you all your willpower not to turn around and punch his perfect, chiseled face.

---

As you expected, Bucky didn’t give up trying to annoy you. Even days after the party, he wouldn’t stop following you around and annoying you at all times. But you had to put up with it, because you knew that the closer he is to you, the better you can watch over him. But oh God was he annoying.

He lazily walked over to the couch where you were sat at in the living room one afternoon. You were replying to some emails for work, and filling in Bucky’s dad at the same time. Of course, through text you made it seem like his son was perfect and well-behaved, when in reality… well, not so.

Bucky sighed dramatically, trying to get your attention but you purposely didn’t want to give him the satisfaction so you kept typing. He groaned and plopped down right next to you on the couch, and you didn’t have to turn your head to look at him to know that he was shirtless again, with that damn smirk on his pretty face.

“I’m bored.” He complained, whining like a child and he was sat so close to you that he was almost leaning on you. He casually placed his hand on your knee and you immediately slapped his hand away.

“Bucky, I’m working.” You said, using your ‘don’t disturb me’ voice. But he didn’t care. He never cared.

“But I’m bored.” He whined again, and took the liberty to just shut your laptop while you were clearly in the middle of some serious work. You didn’t want to waste energy on telling him off so you just closed your eyes, calmed yourself down and turned to face him finally.

He grinned like he won something. “Okay. What do you want?” you asked, keeping a polite face on so as not to give him one of your famous resting bitch faces.

He smirked. “You.” he answered with a wink and you rolled your eyes at him. And he quickly mumbled an apology that he didn’t mean and sat up straight. “Okay, let’s go out. I need to buy some stuff.”

You stared at him with a straight face, and sighed; agreeing. “Fine.” You stand up and walk towards your temporary bedroom.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“I need to change.” You replied, without turning around.

He smirked to himself. “You don’t need to look extra pretty for me. I already like you quite a lot.” He didn’t get a reply this time, not even a glare. He just heard you sigh really loudly and slam the door of the bedroom shut really loudly. He chuckled to himself.

 He waited for you at the stairs by the front door. And he had his sunglasses on so you didn’t see the way his eyes widened when he saw you step outside in another outfit; a bit more casual than your usual suits.

Black, long-sleeved turtle neck with a grey colored pleated tennis skirt. You looked… hot.

“Staring is rude.” You sasses once you noticed he was indeed eyeing you up and down.

He smirked as you walked past him and got down the stairs, making your way to the car which was waiting for the two of you.

“Didn’t take you to be a skirt kinda girl. You’re more like a sexy suits and guns kinda girl. I mean, I love it.” he took the liberty to comment on your style.

You stopped right before you got into the driver’s seat and faced him with another fake smile. “Yeah well, it’s practical. You can’t see the handgun in my thigh holster, can you?” you smirked and got into the car.

Bucky took a few seconds to process everything. As if your appearance and you being out of his league wasn’t torture enough, now he had the image of you with a thigh holster permanently in his brain. And oh was that doing things to him. He didn’t even know he liked older, badass women until now.

Now, he was crushing on you harder than he intended to.

-

He was just as audacious and flirty in the car as always. He said he wanted to shop so you took him to the chic and expensive part of the city; where the rich kids usually go to spend mommy and daddy’s money.

Sam and Peter were in the car as well. Because Bucky was unpredictable, and you could always use more security guards around him given he was an absolute man-child. And to annoy you even further, as you walked beside him from store to store, he held your hand in his.

You would always let go of his hand, but he’d reach out to grab it again tighter each time and at some point you gave up and let him hold your hand. Again, you couldn’t have him wander off on his own so the closer he was to you, the better. Sam and Peter followed you two, trying to blend in as much as possible.

Bucky kept carelessly buying everything that fit his aesthetic; shoes, watches, jackets and everything else he didn’t bother checking the price tags of. And while he was being a difficult client, trying on everything and making a mess, you just stood there on your phone – occasionally looking at him and rolling your eyes at how extra he was.

“Do you really need that many shoes and watches?” you complained, stepping out of yet another store and already making your way to the other one. You were getting tired, and you weren’t a women who quite like shopping in general, so Bucky was just too much.

“Hey, don’t judge. I have a rep to maintain, besides I…” Bucky kept talking as you entered the next very expensive looking boutique, your hand still in his but you zoned out completely as you caught the stare of another pair of familiar blue eyes right upon stepping into the building.

Steve.

You were somewhat surprised upon seeing him so unexpectedly. But then again, it wasn’t too surprising because he was a man with expensive taste as well. You lingered around Bucky while he looked around, but all your attention was on Steve – who stared at you. Or maybe he was staring at Bucky more.

Eventually, Bucky grabbed a ton of clothes and went on try them; leaving you behind. Sam and Peter were right outside in the car, but that meant that you were alone inside the spacious store and there was nowhere for you to go as Steve began walking towards you. For a second you debated stepping out and joining Sam and Peter in the car while you waited for Bucky, but it was too late, Steve was too close by the time you thought of it.

You panicked, but you had perfected the calm and composed face so you put that on as he got closer and closer. You knew there was no way you could avoid him now.

“Y/N, hey.” He greeted you with a smile.

You returned him a fake one. “Steve, hello.” You kept your voice steady and monotonous, not letting your irritation and uncomfortableness show.

He stepped closer like he was an old friend, invading your personal space like it was nothing. Then again, he never cared much about you. “How come you’re here? You don’t even like shopping.” He pointed out, surprising you with how he still remembered that little detail about you.

You maintained the fake smile on your face and crossed your arms over your chest out of habit. “Yeah well, people change Steve.”

He chuckled dryly. “Is it that boy you came with? Did he bring about that change?” he asked, clearly jealous and bitter – like he always was.

You smirked. “That’s none of your business.” You were still calm but you could see it in his eyes; his anger slowly building up.

He scoffed. “What, you’re dating young boys now? He looks too young for you, seriously Y/N.” Steve commented, rudely and stepped closer to you – forcing you to take a small step backwards. “You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” he whispered, reaching out to twirl a lock of your with his fingers.

You didn’t know what to say to him, but luckily you heard Bucky’s voice speak up behind Steve.

 Bucky stepped out of the changing room with the piles of expensive jackets and sweaters he intended to buy and he stepped out with a grin, excited to see you roll your eyes at him. He enjoyed annoying you for some weird reasons. But his smiled morphed into a frown the moment he saw another man standing too close to you.

Bucky dumped all the clothes on the couch nearby and stared at the guy. Slightly long hair, facial hair, dressed in a sharp suit; the good looking bastard was talking to you, and Bucky didn’t like it. He approached the two of you, eavesdropping like it’s no one’s business.

“…You need a man to take care of you, remember that.” the guy said, while toying with a lock of your hair.

The audacity, Bucky thought to himself, I haven’t even touched her hair yet.

“She doesn’t need anybody. Now back the fuck away from my girl.” Bucky said out loud, not bothering about whether the workers heard or not. They probably did given they were most likely eavesdropping just like he was.

The guy turned around to face him. Bucky was ready to throw punches but the guy didn’t initiate anything so he kept his calm as well. But on the inside he was raging. He wondered why he was so bothered by some other man talking to you. Maybe, he liked you a lot more than he thought.

The guy scoffed and walked away without another word said, probably choosing not to make a scene. Once he left, Bucky looked at you with worry in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” he asked, stepping closer to you. And surprisingly, unlike Steve’s proximity, you didn’t mind Bucky’s.

You nodded and refused to look him in the eyes. He understood and grabbed your hand and walked out of the building and into the car.

After an exchange of drivers, all of you made your way home. You were quiet, as always, focusing on the road. But Bucky was quiet as well, which was weird. You wanted to comment on it, but you decided not to. It wasn’t uncomfortable anyways.

A few minutes later, he spoke up.

“That was Rogers, wasn’t it? Dad’s business rival?” he asked, referring to Steve.

You nodded.

“Do you… Is he… how do you… I mean, he’s-,” Bucky struggled to find the right way to ask you about how you know Steve like that. So you cut off his rambling and answered the question he truly had.

“He’s my ex.” You said.

And then the silence was back for a few minutes. Sam and Peter pretended not to be in the car.

Bucky spoke up again, “May I ask why you broke up? It’s none of my-,”

You cut him off and answered again. You had nothing to hide, besides, Bucky sort of saved you back there. “He wanted me to quit my job, and stay at home and have his children. But I wanted to work and settle down later in life so… yeah.” you simplified it as much as you could for him.

He nodded slowly, before scoffing loudly. “Well what an ass! He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone worth being with you would be so fucking proud of what a badass woman you are. And how well you do your job and manage all of this all on your own. I mean, you’re beautiful as hell too and I-,”

You cut him off again, with a genuine smile and shaking your head at him. “Alright, alright enough buttering me up. What do you want?” you asked, smirking.

He gasped dramatically. “What? No, I meant what I said. You’re beautiful and amazing and badass.” He truly meant it. He hadn’t realized he admired you so much. He had never felt like this, so to lighten up the mood he added, “But since you’re asking, can I please go out with my friends tonight, alone?” as expected, he asked with an adorable face.

The kind you have problem saying no to. But you absolutely had to.

“No. Your dad strictly said no parties, no clubbing, no coming home drunk. You’re not in uni anymore, Bucky. When you’re dad gets back, you will join the business and someday, you’ll take over. You need to start acting responsible.” you repeated his dad’s words to him and he almost whined like the spoilt brat he is.

“But it’s not a party.” He argued. “I won’t get drunk.”

You turned to look at him briefly. “What is it then?”

“It’s a thing.” He replied. This man was seriously a 5 year old child.

“What thing?” you asked in your serious voice and he sulked.

“Just a thing.” He said, looking down at his lap. Just looking at him would tell you that he hadn’t heard ‘no’ a lot in his life.

“No. And stop sulking, you’re twenty five years old. Act like it.” you announced your final decision that he’s not allowed to leave the house alone. Definitely not for a party.

And you expected him to listen and not make things more difficult for you. But you should’ve known that Bucky wasn’t one to behave.

 ---

You woke up around 2 a.m. to countless messages, missed calls and emails. Your phone kept going off non-stop so you decided to check it. Some of the other members of the teams kept sending you screenshots of paparazzi pics of Bucky at some illegal car race taking place in the outskirts of the city.

And you were confused for a minute, because hours ago he said he was going to bed. You grabbed your phone tightly in your hand and jumped out of your bed, and ran upstairs. Your rapid footsteps on the stairs seemed to have caught Sam and Peter’s attention as well because they happened to be right behind you when you rushed into Bucky’s empty room.

He wasn’t here. He must’ve snuck out to go to a freaking car race!

“Why didn’t the alarm go off?” you turned to face the two guards and they looked at you sheepishly. Oh this was bad.

“He must’ve turned it off before leaving.” Peter answered, just as worried as you were. All of your jobs could be at stake here. But of course, the spoilt brat didn’t care about any of that.

“I don’t care what it takes but find him. And bring him home. I need to make a few calls and have these pictures taken down before his father finds out. Go, now!” you raised your voice a little and Sam and Peter rushed out of the room. And a few seconds later you heard two cars leaving the property.

Meanwhile, you were worried sick and angry and scared. You grabbed your phone and proceeded to disturb a lot of people who could help you take these pictures down before Mr. Barnes finds out.

You also made a mental note to have a talk with Bucky when he does eventually come back home. You would try not to lose your temper, but it seems like he needs to be given a lecture about all the things he’s not allowed to do. Disabling the alarm and sneaking out for example.

-

You promised you would keep your calm. And that you would talk to him without losing your temper. But the minute he walked into the house, at around 6 a.m., accompanied by Sam and Peter who somehow managed to find him at some beach and dragged him out of a party and now brought him home.

You saw the smirk on his clearly somewhat drunk face and your anger took over.

“Hi beautiful.” He said, smirking and then pointed to both guards, “You sent a search party, looks like you missed me.” He sassed.

And you couldn’t control yourself anymore. Your anger could be seen on your face as you marched towards him rapidly, and out of nowhere grabbed him by the collar threateningly. You were livid. And Sam and Peter chose to stay out of this one because oh boy, you weren’t one to mess with when you were angry.

“When the hell will you fucking learn, huh?” you yelled in his face.

He was still sobering up thanks to the coffee Sam got him but even he knew that he had messed up this time by the look on your face. He was surprised at how physical you were. Part of him knew it was wrong but he couldn’t help but feel a rush either. He was torn between scared of what your anger will entail, but also being turned on a little.

“Where the fuck have you been? Your dad specifically asked for you not to go out on your own because he has not been seeing eye-to-eye with a lot of people lately! And there is a lot more people than you think out there who could be after you just to hurt you and mess with your dad!” you yelled and Bucky was surprised.

He didn’t know this. Neither did Sam and Peter or the rest of the guys. Mr. Barnes trusted you immensely, so he told you some of his dark secrets. This was one of them, which is why he was so strict regarding the rules Bucky had to follow now that he was back home. And this revelation shocked everyone in the room.

You tugged on his collar a little more, and his body jerked forward a little and he was surprised at how physically strong you were. But he still didn’t say a word. “Do you know how many phone calls I had to make to take those pictures down and make sure your dad doesn’t find out? But you don’t care, do you?”

Bucky felt a pang of guilt at your words.

“You don’t care about anyone else but you! You are a spoilt, selfish brat! I know you’re not used to it, but at least try, damn it! Try and care about your dad’s reputation, about our jobs which involves taking care of your ungrateful, stuck up ass!”

He had never felt so guilty before, nor had anyone ever dared to point out his mistakes so vividly like you did just now. And you weren’t wrong, Bucky never cared about the consequences of his actions. Let alone about how his reckless habits could affect someone else.

“Disabling the alarm and sneaking out, look I don’t know who the fuck you think you are Bucky, but you sure as hell aren’t a kid anymore! Fucking act like an adult!” you yelled again.

He hadn’t thought, before sneaking out, that if anything bad does happen; you might lose your job. Not just you, but all the guards and everyone else in your team. And now he was ashamed.

With one last tug, you let go of his collar and panted, trying to control your breathing and anger. You stepped away and pressed the top of the bridge of your nose; already feeling a headache forming due to all the stress. You ran a hand over your face, sighing in relief that he was home but also in annoyance at how childish and careless he could be.

“Now go shower, get some sleep and sober up.” You looked up into his ocean blue eyes which showed nothing but guilt and shame, as they should. “And for fuck’s sake, stop making my life a living hell.” You spat bitterly and turned around to walk away.

You still had a lot to do and take care of today, and this day began with a rough start and you didn’t even get a good night of sleep. And it was barely even 7 a.m. yet, to say you were cranky would be an understatement.

-

You had extra work to do today, given Bucky’s previous rebellious actions. Along with the usual work load you had, which made today extra hectic and your mood was off as well. Your team had dealt with the paparazzi situation wonderfully. Mr. Barnes didn’t know a thing. But that didn’t mean that you were on speaking terms with Bucky.

You saw him less than usual throughout the day. Once in the kitchen, where you were making coffee and he dropped by to try and talk to you but he saw the look on your face and turned back around without saying a word. Then another time when you were in the living room, and he walked by without saying a word. The tension between the two of you was real.

He felt so guilty that it seemed like it was eating him alive. Plus, he hated how your mood was shitty all because of him. He wanted to apologize, but couldn’t. He didn’t know how to, because he never had to. But he knew he should. Because he messed up big time, driven by his arrogance and recklessness.

He hated how you were mad at him. He realized that these past weeks, the highlights of his days has been getting your attention and watch you roll your eyes at him, and replying to his sarcasm with even more sarcasm. Now his day just seemed dry and empty, and he wanted so badly to make things right.

You weren’t exactly ecstatic after yelling at him like that either. Usually your days consisted of shaking your head at Bucky’s silly messages and replying to none of them, or trying so hard not to laugh at his terrible jokes, and allowing him to hold your hand in his whenever you were out. You wouldn’t lie, you did miss his harmless mischief.

But he had to be told off. He was getting way out of hand.

 -

You turned in for the night earlier than usual, and right when you got out of the shower someone knocked on your bedroom door. Forgetting that you were in your bathrobe, you rushed to open the door thinking it might be one of the guards coming to tell you that Bucky had run off again.

But you were somewhat surprised when you found Bucky himself standing on the other side, scratching the back of his neck nervously. You didn’t say anything, you let him feel the awkward silence, and he deserved it. But then it got way too quiet so you spoke up.

“Don’t you own a shirt?” you asked, leaning against the door frame and eyeing his perfect body. He was shirtless again, what’s new.

Bucky tried so hard not to look at your cleavage, but he failed miserably. “I do. I just thought that if I look hot enough, you’d maybe forgive me quicker.” He voiced out his inner thoughts shamelessly.

You sighed. Guess he’ll never grow up, huh?

“Is this how you apologize after almost fucking up all of our lives and jeopardizing my job?” you asked, sarcastically in a monotonous tone for extra effect.

He sighed and looked down. Bad idea because now he got a good view of your legs peeking through the slit of the robe. He was once again, torn – debating between begging for your forgiveness or just say ‘fuck it’ and lean in for that kiss he’s been desperate for since he saw you.

He went with the latter.

Bucky barely gave you time to process anything as he gently pushed you inside the room, shut the door behind him, wrapped his arms around you and pulled your body closer to his as he placed his mouth on yours.

You were surprised, and you knew it was wrong, but you didn’t hate it. He kissed you feverishly, with ardor and passion and everything else he felt for you. He poured it all out through the kiss. Like he was coaxing you into forgiving him.

Bucky’s mouth moved perfectly with yours, his arms tightened their grip around your waist and your hands slid into his hair. You tugged on it gently as he started walking the two of you backwards, towards the bed.

He laid you down on the mattress and climbed on top of you, still not breaking the kiss. And you had to admit, he was a great kisser. He nibbled on your lower lip before pushing his tongue past your lips; gently stroking the top of your mouth while his hand slowly undid the knot at the front of your robe. Once it loosened enough, he reached out to grab your left breast; squeezing it and making you whine under him.

He smirked through the kiss. He had been waiting for this for way too long and now he finally had you. Bucky further unwrapped the robe from around your body and toyed with your breasts while he kissed you deeply. And when one of his hands started slowly making its way down your body and between your legs, that’s when you pulled away from the kiss and stared into his eyes; breathless from his kiss.

Bucky panicked. What if you pushed him off now? Or worse, what if he had angered you even more?

But instead, you smirked and pushed him down; flipping the two of you around so that now you straddled him. You settled comfortably around his waist, your robe barely covering your body but neither one of you cared. Bucky looked up at you with nothing but adoration and lust.

You leaned down to gently brush your lips with his. His hands immediately rubbed up and down your sides lovingly. “You put me in a lot of trouble today, you know that?” you whispered, your lips brushing with his ever so gently with each word and his heart raced.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.” he mumbled, reaching up to try and press his lips to yours, but you pulled away really quickly.

“Sorry doesn’t make it better.” you spoke sternly. “You’re still a spoilt brat.”

Bucky smirked and supported his upper body up on his elbows, with you still straddling his waist; your core pressing down on his crotch. “And what are you gonna do about it?” he sassed and tried to ignore how fast his heart was beating as you reached out to slowly traced his mouth with your finger.

He bit his lip as your finger slowly trailed down his face, along his neck and down till his abs; so slowly that you could feel his muscles tensing underneath your touch. You smirked when you noticed the effect you have on him, and how he couldn’t help but stare at your almost naked body.

“You need to learn how to do as you’re told sometimes.” You trailed your fingertips back up his body, making him squirm just a little and you grabbed his jaw and forced him to look you in the eyes. “Understood? Or do you need to be taught?” your tone sounded a lot more stern that you intended.

Bucky was pleasantly surprised. He nodded rapidly, trying to hide his smirk as the look on your face let him know that he was in for a ride. “Think I need to be taught.” He whispered, looking into your eyes to find lust, and hunger – same as his.

You smiled at his answer. Of course he did. “Very well then.” And without another word said, you grabbed both his hands and pulled them away from your body and pinned both of his wrists above his head, down on the pillows. “Keep them there.” You ordered.

But as usual, he didn’t have the habit of listening so he moved his hands back on you, pulling you closer and caressing your skin. He just needed to touch you. But you were running out of patience. You grabbed both his hands and pinned them above his head again. “I said, keep them there.” You said slowly, in a strict voice.

He smirked at first, but upon seeing that you were reaching for the black tie on your bedside table, his smile faded but he felt all tingly and his body throbbed in anticipation.

You grabbed the tie you had carelessly thrown there a day or two ago and carefully tied his wrists together. The cool, silky fabric against his skin made his heart skip a beat. You then secured his wrists to the part metal part wooden headboard. Your breasts were right in his face as you did so but he didn’t mind it.

Once done, you straightened your back to get a good look at him; beneath you, tied up and lips parted as he awaited what’s next. You smirked at how he gave you his famous puppy dog eyes. But no matter what, he wasn’t getting out of this so easily this time.

Oh no, you were planning on messing with him and toying with him until he can’t physically take it. And that’s exactly what you did.

You took off his sweatpants, and underwear then finally your robe. And as you did, his cock erected even more; standing proud and tall. Bucky’s face was flushed, and you could tell he was flustered and hot and bothered already – and you had barely touched him yet.

“Think you can always have your way, don’t you?” your voice barely above a whisper as you settle on his right thigh. You bit your lip the minute you felt his warm, smooth skin press against your wet core. You rolled your hips gently against his thigh and you felt the familiar tingle dance down your spine.

Bucky watched you ride his thigh slowly; lips parted, his cock beginning to throb and leak. He knew then that this was going to be a long, hard night for him.

You pressed both your palms against his toned abdomen, carefully avoiding touching him right where he needed you as you worked to get yourself off by humping his thigh. You were leaving behind a damp patch on his skin and he bit his lip as he watched you; breasts bouncing gently, lips parted, softly gasping as you made yourself cum.

He watched how your soft moans got louder and how you humped his thigh faster, getting higher… and higher… you tilted your head back, purposely putting up a show just for him. He groaned when you whined wantonly, and he gently lifted his thigh – pressing further into your clit. He felt your wetness smearing all over his skin and he hopelessly wanted a taste.

Bucky’s cock was leaking embarrassingly by the time you came undone above him, leaving him still hard and throbbing.  

“Please…” he murmured as he watched you come down from your high. He was desperate, and hungry and he just wanted you wrapped around him. He needed to feel you, and your warmth.

You smirked as you slowed down and finally came to a stop, still straddling his thigh. “Please..” you mocked him, chuckling. “You’ve always had things handed to you on a platter. You’ve never known patience, or how to ask nicely, have you?” you smirked again, leaning in to trace his lips with your tongue. “Well you will today.”

You gave him a brief kiss before finally wrapping your hand around his cock. He almost whimpered as he closed his eyes and relished your touch. He felt thick and hard, and big. You lazily stroked his length, up and down. Your thumb rubbed his tip slowly, making him groan as you kissed your way down his neck. You kissed his skin feverishly; leaving your marks behind as you bit and sucked on Bucky’s skin around the base of his throat; making him shudder in pleasure and moan sinfully.

You pulled away after a while to look at him. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and with his lips parted and occasional moans escaping his open mouth; completely under your mercy. You smirked at how pre cum started dripping down his cock, and you knew that he was getting more and more desperate by how he kept murmuring please…please…please.

“Come on now, ask nicely.” You teased, knowing damn well you wouldn’t let him cum so easily.

Bucky groaned and opened his eyes to look at you. His eyes were darker, his gaze more intense and he tried to thrust his cock into your hand but then gave up because each time he did, you would just let go of his length. So he just let you toy with him however you liked, he took whatever you gave him.

“Please… please make me cum.” He whispered, voice strained and weak.

You chuckled as you felt him twitch in your grasp. “No.” you simply said and released him, leaving him right on the edge. He was still hard and throbbing and desperate. You leaned down to kiss him on his hip bones, gently kisses on each side and you heard him groan and squirm.

You smirked and kissed your way up his body. Eventually making your way up his body so you were straddling his face. Your hips wrapped around his head as he looked up at you. None of you minded the intimate position, he was just happy to finally touch you again. Bucky looked up at you with hunger in his eyes. And you smirked as you lowered your wet core to his mouth.

Bucky wasted no time, his mouth latched onto your clit and his tongue took in whatever you gave him. He worked his mouth at your entrance like his life depended on it. Sucking and licking and shoving his tongue past your wet folds, he ate you out like there’s no tomorrow, occasionally moving his head side to side.

You moaned out loud, throwing your head back as one of your hands held the head board for support and the other tangled in Bucky’s hair. His tongue worked wonders against your sensitive clit, making you feel all tingly and warm as you dripped all over his mouth.

“You taste so good…” he murmured against your wet folds and you very gently rolled your hips against his face, smearing your arousal all over his lips and chin; he licked a hot, thick stripe from your entrance up to your clit, with his teeth grazing it until he had you moaning loudly against him.

Your hips bucked against his face as he licked each and every drop of what you gave him. He closed his eyes and hummed loudly at your taste, making you whine and for a moment, you forgot that you weren’t supposed to be giving him the satisfaction. He was just that good and skilled with his tongue. Bucky adored the sounds you made above him. He even forgot that he was himself, throbbing with need. He was just hell bent on making you cum all over his tongue.

He had been fantasizing about this, about having your thighs wrapped around his head and to taste you and make you cum all over his tongue. And you soon realized that you were letting him have his way, so you pulled away quickly.

Bucky’s eyes shot open, “No please… I want more,” he complained, whining as you moved away from his face and kissed your way down his body again. And he was giving you the puppy dog eyes again. You almost gave in but you weren’t entirely done with him yet.

He whimpered as you slowly kissed your way down his body again; down his neck, across his bare chest and all the way to his thick, erected cock. Without any warning, you took him into your mouth, all of him. And he moaned out loud, mindlessly. You placed your mouth on his tip; your tongue slowly circling his tip.

You bobbed your head around his tip; taking him in inch by inch until he hit the back of your throat. You kept your eyes on his perfect face as you sucked on his cock. He closed his eyes momentarily, lips parted and gasping as he tilted his head back. He looked handsome, completely at your mercy.

The gasps and moans which escaped his lips as he squirmed made you smirk. It only made you want to tease him even more, and keep him on the edge. His breathy moans, his soft gasps and the way he whimpered at your touch – it made you feel even more powerful than usual. He moaned and panted; murmuring your name over and over again, begging you to speed up already and make him cum. Bucky relished the warmth of your mouth wrapped around him, perfect like he had dreamt of so often.

He twitched against your tongue and you tasted some of his pre cum. You slowed down, not wanting to grant him the satisfaction just yet. You took him out of your mouth; licking his cock from bottom to top while your hands toyed with his balls. Bucky moaned, his voice cracking; making him sound weak and desperate.

He swore under his breath as you dragged your tongue over the slit on this tip very lazily. You chuckled as he tried thrusting his hips up, hoping that you would stop messing with him already. Your ability of bringing him right to the edge and mercilessly keeping him there for as long as you wished to was driving him insane.

 Bucky lost all self-control the moment you sank down on him, your wet warmth wrapping all around him; making him swear under his breath and groan. You lean in and caress his face, looking him deep in his ocean blue eyes while you rocked your hips against his. He was quite a sight; all muscular and strong, and handsome but tied to your bed at your mercy. You chuckled and leaned in to bite his lip, tugging on it as you pulled away, surely making him lose his mind. 

You moved against him perfectly, your walls gripping him tightly and making him get louder and louder each time. Just when you felt him twitch inside you, you lifted your hips up and pulled him out of you and watched him whine and smirked at his helplessness. 

“Come on, ask nicely.” You teased. “Beg.” You said more sternly, whispering against his mouth; lips hovering above his parted ones. You leaned in to kiss his open mouth carelessly. And in that moment, he was ready to do anything for you, to please you.

“Y/n… please...” His voice was low, barely even a whisper. But you heard it. His desperation was quite clear. And he was so sensitive, from all that teasing, that once you started riding him again; he began to thrust his hips up trying to match your movements. But you messed with him even then, you slowed down your pace whenever he got too excited, and you sped up when he least expected it.

At some point, he was nothing but a sweaty, moaning mess under you; messy hair, swollen lips, and a throbbing cock. But you wanted more, you wanted to hear him whine some more, you wanted to hear how desperate he could get. You messed with him for as long as you could, and Bucky got loud, very loud; growling as you teased him, and whining your name whenever you kept him on the edge for too long. You alternated between having him in your mouth and riding his cock, and there was nothing else he could focus on in that moment. 

Just you. Only you. He was yours; yours to toy with and tease, yours to use as you pleased.

You eventually gave in; seeing he was physically worn out. And you fucked his brains out, making him cum in no time. Your walls clenched around him; gripping him and milking him perfectly. He was completely at your mercy, begging you to slow down when you kept riding his sensitive, throbbing cock even after he came. His heart raced, he was breathing hard and fast after you were done with him. You kissed his chest, murmuring how good he was.

“Now, will you finally learn how to behave and do as you’re told?” you gripped his jaw gently, and looked deep into his eyes while you spoke. His hands were still tied, and sore and they were itching to just reach out and touch you. 

Bucky nodded frantically. You smiled.

-

He stayed in your bed long after you two were done. He was clinging to you like a koala bear to a tree, shamelessly using your bare chest as a pillow. Your hand ran lazily into his hair and you smiled at how warm he felt. Sure, he was a tall and muscular man but he snuggled up to you like a child. You could feel his warm puffs of air hit your skin each steadily. You thought he was asleep but then he spoke up.

“Are you awake?” he asked, voice groggy and strained; deep.

“No.” you answered and waited for his reaction. And a few seconds later he lifted his head up to glare at you. You giggled at the face he made. After giving you a dirty glare, he got back to using your breasts as a pillow.

“Will you go out with me?” he spoke up again, asking you out.

“That’s not appropriate. I’m your dad’s employee.” you were starting to feel the day’s fatigue take over you slowly. You yawned right after speaking.

“Yeah? And what about what just happened? Is that appropriate?” he asked.

You sighed. “Go to sleep Bucky.” Truth is, you didn’t know what this was. But you wouldn’t lie, despite being annoying, it was hard not to love him.

He didn’t say anything. He pulled you closer and got on top of you, pinning you down on the bed this time. “Do you not like me?” he asked.

“I do! Get off, you’re heavy!” you giggled as he put all of his body weight on you.

“Then take responsibility for your actions. You stole my heart and now I’m in love with you.” he spoke in a matter-of-fact tone which made you laugh. “Look I’m hot and cute, it’s hard being both. I am smart,” he was listing and as soon as he said smart, you raised an eyebrow at him, questioningly. “I have a university degree to prove it, okay?” he resumed listing his qualities. “I’ll keep you away from crazy exes, and I will get you a puppy if you w-,”

You cut him off with a kiss. He sure was adorable. “Okay, okay stop.” You mumbled against his lips. “Your dad’s gonna kill me if we date.” You groaned thinking about what would happen if Mr. Barnes finds out.

Bucky kissed you deeply, then pulled away to look at you. “No he won’t. Dad likes you. Even if he tries to, I’ll protect you. I’m very strong as you can see.” He mumbled, pushing his face into the crook of your neck and making you giggle given you were ticklish.

“A big baby is what you are.” You corrected him. He chuckled.

“Please just give me a chance. I really, really like you.” he said, sincerely.

You gave it a thought. You liked him too. “Okay.” You said. He pulled away and smiled down at you. “I like you too.” You spoke again and Bucky leaned in to kiss you again.

Little did you know that giving him a chance would end up being the best decision you ever made…

[barnesbabee]

𝓹𝓵𝓪𝔂 𝓭𝓪𝓽𝓮 - 𝓽𝔀𝓮𝓷𝓽𝔂

|| ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ || ⇜ᴘʀᴇᴠɪᴏᴜꜱ - 20 - ɴᴇxᴛ⟿

⟿ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: No sensible person would turn down their boss if they looked good as good as Seonghwa. But maybe they would wish they had…

⟿ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ: CEO!Seonghwa x reader, bestfriend!Yunho x reader || Social Media!AU || no gender specified for the reader

A/N: IM SO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG

ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ: (send me a DM or an ask to be added) @ateezappreciation @shinyddeonghwa @lilithpooped @cloudyyeonnie@yeosangmystar @wooyoung-a @sanisms @mingismoon @lovelyvitamin @anawwyd @annasbannas @im-just-trying-to-survive-man @uglychildd @oddlittlefandomist @hwahomie @jin-neck-shaft @lovelyvitamin @yeosangmystar @skmoonchild @lovelymultiwrites @sunwooyoung

The day was long and silent, and although no one had gotten any sleep, no one could close their eyes for more than a minute. The haunting picture of Yunho's dead body and splattered blood clouding their minds. The only one who hadn't seen the body yet was Jongho, but he was too busy trying to make sure Mingi wouldn't freak out again.

The five of you eventually fell asleep, when your bodies finally calmed down and gave in to the temptation.

You were, however, suddenly awoken by a loud noise of something falling. All of you sat up straight in the living room and looked around. There were only four of you. Mingi.

All of you stood up immediately and began searching the house in a panicked state, calling out for Mingi as you did so.

"Are you fucking kidding me!?" Seonghwa yelled, after a couple of minutes of looking.

You all ran towards where he was. You found Seonghwa holding a crying Mingi by the arm, in the attic of the house.

"What happened?" You asked.

Seonghwa roughly pushed Mingi towards you all.

"I got here and this dumbass had opened the skylight and was trying to get onto the roof!"

San held Mingi's hand and moved the man to stand behind him, angrily looking at Seonghwa.

"Hey man, take it easy." San advised.

Seonghwa placed his hands on his hips and widened his eyes.

"Take it easy? Take. It. Easy!? There's already a dead body in my fucking house, from a situation that I had nothing to do with, mind you, and I was about to have a second body to bury because of this fool's bad choices. I am helping you idiots out a lot and you're pushing me to the limits, okay!? I have a lot to lose here. I have a company to run and a lot of people that are going to lose jobs if the CEO goes down as an accessory to murder."

There was only silence, as it dawned on the selfish group what they were asking of Seonghwa.

"I'm sorry." San said, not even able to lift up his head and look Seonghwa in the eye.

The latter shook his head and walked away.

"I'm leaving the house. Keep an eye on that douchebag."

The sound of the front door slamming echoed in the house, and all of you felt incredibly embarrassed. Once you got back to the living room, Jongho surprised all of you. He sat Mingi down on the couch and stared down at him.

"I'm tired, Mingi. I really am. You made those two go out into the woods to fetch a dead body, you made them scrub blood off of walls and off the floor, you made Seonghwa, who doesn't even like you by the way, he's doing this for Y/N, hide a body in his house, and you were going to kill yourself!? Are you that much of a fucking coward!? Mingi you're not 16. You're a grown man, you're almost 22, it's about time you start taking accountability for your actions, we can't baby you forever, 'cause it's getting tiring. We're all desperate here, and we have to worry about yourselves, about dead Yunho, and now about an unstable manchild. Focus on the fucking reality Mingi."

Jongho was straight-up yelling by the end of his rant, eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets and face red, out of anger. He then stormed off, just like Seonghwa, leaving a very quiet and tense room.

San sighed and sat next to his friend.

"You know, he's right Mingi. Maybe should've worded it better, but you really can't do what you were about to do... You were about to screw us all over when we are risking our lives to help you. This isn't just about you anymore."

Mingi could only nod, and cry, as his aching throat wouldn't allow him to do anything else.

You sighed and stood up.

"I'm... I'm gonna go find Seonghwa, I need to apologize."

You picked up your coat from the coat hanger near the door.

"You know where he is?" San asked.

"I have an idea..."

You were sure he was back at the office. He felt comfortable there, it was a place where he could take his head off of all his worries. Also, he kept his best whiskey in his office... It wasn't very far from his house, but you were impatient, you needed some time alone with him desperately. You showed your pass to the security by the entrance and they let you through, as you hurriedly made your way to the CEO's office.

You could hear two voices chatting from the inside, you didn't quite recognize the other person, but you were pretty sure it was Hongjoong. You knocked on the door softly, ignoring the big 'do not disturb' sign.

"I- Hongjoong what the fuck didn't I ask you to put the sign outside!?" You could hear Seonghwa ask.

You heard his heavy footsteps walk closer to the door and for a second you were afraid, maybe you shouldn't have come...

The door opened slowly before you, however, interrupting your thoughts.

"My apologies but I'm currently- oh it's you baby." Seonghwa pulled you in a big bear hug as soon as he realized who you were.

You hugged him back, a little hesitant with Hongjoong seeing you two acting romantically. Seonghwa realized you were a little stiff and pulled away, then realizing what the discomfort was about once he saw you looking at Hongjoong.

"Oh, I told him... I hope it's fine. He's kind of known from the beginning."

You closed the door behind you and followed Seonghwa into his office, as you looked at Hongjoong with an 'oh really?' look, making him chuckle.

"Well I did try to call dibs on you when you got hired but he got salty about it, and then every time I made a comment about you he'd get mad. I still did it though, I knew something was going on and I wanted him to tell me." Hongjoong explained as he smiled brightly.

"Yeah yeah good times, why don't you tell them about 'wanting to bend them over your desk and making them beg'?"

Hongjoong's head perked up and his eyes widened, as his ears turned bright red.

"Seonghwa what the fuck-" He whispered, feeling a little uncomfortable in the room.

You were a little embarrassed, but also proud.

"It's fine, plus," Seonghwa got up from his chair and stood behind you, grabbing your hips in the process "they like it. They love to hear how they want to get fucked, isn't that right, Y/N?"

You pressed your thighs together and kept your gaze focused on the ground. Seonghwa gripped your jaw and forced you to look at Hongjoong.

"I- I do like to hear that..."

Hongjoong chuckled and got closer to you, inspecting your body from head to toe.

"You're one lucky son of a bitch, Seonghwa..."

Seonghwa rolled his hips against your ass, so you could feel his boner.

"Hmm, I am aren't I..."

You chuckled and decided to take the opportunity. You knew Seonghwa liked to relieve his stress with sex, and you owed him at least this much for helping you out.

"What's so funny, doll?" Seonghwa asked, curious about your chuckle.

"I was just thinking about all the times you called me a filthy whore, when you're the one practically begging to have a threesome with me and your best friend... Who's the whore now?" You teased, knowing you were pushing all the right buttons.

"Ooh, are you gonna let them talk to you like that."

Seonghwa chuckled as he gripped your throat.

"No, I'm not."

He turned you around and pushed your body against a wall, keeping you trapped by his own body.

"You know which buttons to push doll, maybe I'll reward you for that later. But now, you're going to take this cock in that pretty little hole of yours, and then you'll suck off Hongjoong. Wouldn't want him to feel left out, would we?" Seonghwa asked, with a devilish smirk.

"No sir, we would not." You replied, wearing the same smirk.

Seonghwa felt as if he was falling in love with you right there and then, he felt like he finally found the perfect match, but he could leave the sappy shit for later.

The man placed a short, but intense kiss to your lips before gripping your hair and guiding you to kneel in front of Hongjoong.

"Come on baby, show him what you can do, make me proud."

You smirked and looked up at Hongjoong, as you worked in taking off his suit pants. You slipped them off, along with his boxers, and his hard dick nearly slapped you in the face. It wasn't huge but damn was it pretty. You teased him a little, licking a long stripe, from the base to the tip, teasing the head with your tongue, causing him to groan.

"They always like this?"

"Yeah, they like to see me suffer, but it doesn't last long 'cause..." Seonghwa paused and knelt right beside you, pushing your head so Hongjoong's cock would be fully in your mouth "I'm impatient. But they like it rough."

Seonghwa sat on his desk, as he watched his best friend fuck your mouth, slowly. He pumped his cock to the same pace your head moved, and you'd soon start hearing small groans from both men.

"Shit, Y/N, on all fours."

You complied, pulling out of Hongjoong. He groaned at the cold air hitting his member, as he missed your mouth already. Seonghwa knelt behind you, and entered you very slowly. Hongjoong was about to put his dick back in your mouth, but your partner stopped him.

"Y/N, colour?"

"Green, very green."

Seonghwa smiled and slapped your ass lightly, then giving Hongjoong the green light to continue.

You had to hold off your orgasm a couple of times, as the feeling of both men filling you up and the sound of their needy moans was too much to handle.

"Do you wanna cum?" Seonghwa asked, figuring it out from how much you were clenching.

"I'm almost there baby, you can cum, cum for us."

A couple more thrusts and a spank from Seonghwa were all it took to take you over the edge. It didn't take both men much to 'cross the line' either, Hongjoong painting your face with his cum, and Seonghwa your ass. Their moans combined was something you secretly wanted to hear again.

Seonghwa picked you up, bridal style, and looked at you.

"Come on man, I wanted to kiss her." Seonghwa complained, as your lips were stained by Hongjoong's cum.

Hongjoong felt embarrassed, after coming down from the high he wasn't as confident as Seonghwa.

"Are you okay darling?" Your partner asked, brushing your hair away from your face.

You just nodded.

Seonghwa and Hongjoong helped clean you up and both got dressed.

"I guess you should go deal with the... situation."

You looked at Hongjoong with a confused face, as you zipped up your trousers.

"Situation?" You asked.

"Remember when I said I told him everything? I meant everything."

You widened your eyes once you realized what he meant.

"Seonghwa are you insane!?"

"Calm down Y/N, he's not snitching on anyone! Plus I needed to tell someone who was on my side. I was going insane with your friends constantly baying Mingi."

You sighed. You really couldn't be mad at him for it. You hugged him and kissed his cheek.

"You're right... I'm sorry I got you involved at all and thank you."

Seonghwa kissed the top of your head.

"It's fine, let's just get this over with so I can be with you."

Your bid goodbye to a (still) very embarrassed Hongjoong and left, so you could go back home and deal with the drama. You wished you could just take the car and run away, and live by yourselves until it all washed away, but it wasn't that simple. And it was about to get even more complicated.

When you got to the house and opened the door, a weeping Jongho stood over San's limp body.

"What!? What the fuck happened!?" Seonghwa asked as you and him rushed to check on San.

"I- I don't know! I left after you did" He said, hinting at Seonghwa "and when I came back Mingi wasn't here and San was on the ground. He's still breathing but I don't know what happened."

"What!? Why did you leave?" Seonghwa asked.

"Everyone was upset at Mingi for constantly behaving like a child and Jongho yelled at him and told him to stop expecting us to baby him and that he had to take responsibility for his actions, it got too much and Jongho had to leave for some air..." You explained.

"Responsibility for his actions?..." Seonghwa repeated to himself, trying to figure out what happened, and suddenly a sad idea popped into his head.

He ran into the garage, leaving you and Jongho confused, and holding San.

The man came back just as quickly, looking preoccupied and horrified.

"The body is gone."

[becomewings]

The Most Beautiful Moment in Life <I’M FINE>

    BTS Universe Story Highlights, pt. 2 / 4

« pt. 1  |  » pt. 3

Introduction

JungKook’s and YoonGi’s stories are the first of the paid content in BTS Universe Story and are substantially more detailed than the episodes covered in part 1. As this led to longer summaries (4.2k and 3k), I have added “tl;dr commentary” at the bottom of the post after a section of additional thoughts. This commentary summarizes the parenthetical asides I made throughout the summaries and may be of interest as standalone reading to those who have already played the game yet would like to review its connections to the BU texts and MVs.

Content warning: contains references to death, suicide, suicidal ideation, child abuse, domestic violence, blood, homicide, depression, trauma, PTSD

This guide contains major spoilers and includes references to other BU media

Do not repost, copy, or quote without permission

The Boy on the Threshold

In this story, SeokJin works to uncover the motivations behind JungKook’s nightly street wandering, instigation of fights with thugs, and decision to jump from the roof of a construction site. He was aware of the “darkness” within JungKook but never thought that he would give up on himself. SeokJin is determined to find a way to make JungKook think “I want to live” on his own.

In the afternoon on 11 April Year 22, SeokJin drives by the crosswalk outside Songju Jeil High School. Spotting a grim-faced JungKook, he gets out to greet him. JungKook visibly brightens and pelts him with question after question, finally finishing with, “But how come you’re here at school?” If the player chooses the response “I came to see you” rather than “I was in the neighborhood,” JungKook seems a little disbelieving due to the coincidental timing but nevertheless pleased. SeokJin offers him a ride, thinking that JungKook will not carry out that night’s actions from previous loops if he gets home right away. In the car, SeokJin reminisces aloud about the day they all met. On 3 March Year 19, all seven boys arrived late on the first day at Songju Jeil High School and were scolded outside by the Dean. (Aside from the absence of extra students, this scene looks very similar to the BTS Begins Middle Scene VCR, including the detail of YoonGi arriving last. This VCR predates official BU content.) When the Dean spotted SeokJin in their lineup, he reduced their punishment of community service for one month to just that afternoon. After classes, the boys cleaned the annex. The old classroom-turned-storage room became their secret hideout where they enjoyed various activities like dancing, playing the piano, and spending time with one another. JungKook appears happy as they chat about their school days, although in one path, his face falls after he remembers when he and YoonGi were caught in the annex. SeokJin is concerned, but JungKook insists, “It’s nothing.”

They say goodbye outside JungKook’s house, but SeokJin watches to make sure he goes inside. JungKook hesitates before ringing the bell at the gate. His mom answers, surprised and at a loss by his unexpected arrival. She asks him to come back later because his father’s relatives stopped by, and the intercom cuts off before he can answer. (His mother remarried, so this is really his step-father and family.) SeokJin wonders if JungKook has no one to lean on at school or at home and if this is why he wanders the streets at night. He asks JungKook where he wants to go now. “The beach… the one I went to with you guys,” JungKook answers, then says he’s kidding when SeokJin hesitates, thinking about the night ahead. SeokJin invites JungKook home instead, hoping to keep an eye on him before he needs to save NamJoon at the gas station.

In his bedroom, SeokJin hastily takes down the map and notes pinned on the wall of the boys’ incidents around the city. After letting JungKook inside, he shows him a box of photos from their time together in school. While JungKook browses, a notification on SeokJin’s phone reminds him of Songho Foundation’s inaugural ceremony that evening. Songho Foundation is a scholarship foundation funded by his maternal grandmother’s estate, and his father formally introduces him on this occasion. SeokJin also receives a call from his father’s long-time aide, a man he refers to as Uncle JunHo, who instructs him not to be late to the ceremony. Claiming it won’t take him long, SeokJin asks JungKook to stay there and wait for him to return. He is worried about leaving JungKook alone but also concerned that bringing him to the gas station after the ceremony will make him late to intervening in NamJoon’s incident.

In the lobby of the hotel hosting the Songho Foundation Inauguration Ceremony, SeokJin recognizes many important faces from around the city: Song JunHo, his father’s aide; Seo HyunJung, the city’s deputy mayor; the CEO of Youngjin Engineering & Construction Company; a professor from Munhyeon University; and the Jeil High School principal, Jo JinMyung. SeokJin doesn’t want to cross paths with the principal but is drawn into a conversation with him, the mayor, and his father, Kim ChangJun. “Assemblyman! Congratulations on the launch of the scholarship foundation,” Deputy Mayor Seo says to Kim ChangJun. “I hear that your son has been accepted to Munhyeon University? You must be happy that he’s attending your alma mater.” Kim ChangJun shakes his head. “He still has a lot to learn.” She remarks that everyone knows how well SeokJin has grown up and inquires about his career plans. The player is presented with three choices: “I haven’t decided yet,” “I want to become a good person,” and “I want to become someone like my father.” SeokJin’s father continues to look grim while the others chuckle in response to the first two answers, but his expression softens at the third, which SeokJin knew would not rub him the wrong way. Deputy Mayor Seo proposes to Assemblyman Kim that they establish a regular meeting to discuss community development, mentioning that it would be better if he could invite the city’s prominent citizens and give a speech. Assemblyman Kim agrees, telling his assistant Song JunHo to make note of it. The ceremony concludes, and the guests head towards the hotel’s restaurant. SeokJin is wary of his father’s watchful gaze but impatient to carry out the rest of the night’s plans. While his father is surrounded by other people, he informs Uncle JunHo that he has to leave to work on a group project. SeokJin slips out of the hotel and heads to NamJoon’s gas station.

While SeokJin is gone, one of the photos in the box catches JungKook’s eye. It shows the seven boys sitting on a wall with the ocean behind them. (This photo resembles the shot in Euphoria at 5’32” except that they appear to be wearing school uniform shirts and slacks.) A flashback retells the afternoon of 12 June Year 19 when the boys cut school early and visited the sea, trudging over 3 kilometers under the scorching sun to find a boulder that is rumored to make your dreams come true. (The date is not specified in the game, but the memory closely follows this set of entries in The Notes 1.) Everyone collapses in disappointment when they can’t find the rock at its designated location. JungKook is tired but not as disappointed as the others—just walking there with them is enough for him, even though he often feels uncertain of his place among the group. He gets up on the pier railing, reflecting: “I’ve always liked walking on the edge of walls or on top of lines. Focusing on centering my gravity means that I don’t really think of anything else, and the boundary—not quite a part of either place—always felt like where I should be.” Balancing precariously, JungKook walks until someone grabs his arm. YoonGi scolds him not to do this. JungKook assures him that he will not fall but privately thinks: “YoonGi would often grab my arm when I walked on railings. The others would look after me, too, after seeing him do that. I liked their helping hands. It felt like they were telling me that I should go to them. That this wasn’t my place. Maybe their hands were why I walked on the railings.”

The story returns to the present in SeokJin’s perspective. He rushes back to his room after saving NamJoon and finds JungKook asleep, leaning against the bed with the photos still scattered around him. Feeling both relief and regret, SeokJin quietly coaxes JungKook to lay down and sleep more comfortably. JungKook wakes up and says he should go home after hearing that it’s past ten o’clock. The game cuts briefly to SeokJin’s father in his study with his aide. Kim ChangJun asks Song JunHo to fetch SeokJin, as he needs to know what goes on for the foundation. JunHo says that SeokJin must be entertaining a guest for the group project because he spotted an unfamiliar pair of shoes in the entryway.

Back in his bedroom, SeokJin is startled when his father knocks on the door. It’s rare for his father to visit the second floor of their home, so he let his guard down while chatting with JungKook. “F-Father.” Stammering, SeokJin flinches and gathers up the scattered photos. “Did you leave the ceremony early to waste time like this? Even lying to say you were doing a school project?” asks Kim ChangJun. His cold and reproachful stare suffocates SeokJin. When his father’s eyes scan to JungKook standing awkwardly at the side, SeokJin is plunged into a childhood memory. On 10 October Year 9, 9-year-old SeokJin hid a school friend who was being chased by scary men in his bedroom. His father arrived and asked if the boy was Mr. Choi’s son, saying people had come to take him. When Kim ChangJun ordered him to “be a good boy,” SeokJin froze and was powerless to stop his friend from being handed over. The following day, SeokJin was told his friend transferred schools. (This event is also depicted as the first entry of The Notes 1.) In the present, SeokJin struggles to think of an explanation, smothered by that memory and his father’s pressuring stare. JungKook timidly speaks up. “I was only here to visit for a short while. I was actually about to head home. Hey, I’ll go now.” SeokJin knows he can’t leave him alone yet and finally forces himself to move. “Father, I… I’m going to go out for a little while.” He runs outside, but JungKook is already gone.

The story cuts to JungKook’s perspective as he arrives in a familiar alleyway. He is thankful that SeokJin was so considerate to him but feels that he shouldn’t have gone to his home since it made things more complicated for his friend. “YoonGi even got expelled because of me… Why do I always mess things up for the people around me?” JungKook thinks. The player is presented the choice to either text SeokJin or call YoonGi. In the first path, SeokJin calls JungKook while he is mid-text and says that he’ll come pick him up, but JungKook declines, thanks him, and hangs up. In the second path, JungKook fiddles with his phone, wondering if YoonGi will be annoyed or even answer. He remembers when they crossed paths a few days earlier. On 7 April Year 22, JungKook heard a familiar tune while roaming the dark streets and saw YoonGi playing piano through a broken window of a music shop. YoonGi stopped and eventually staggered out of the shop without noticing JungKook reaching out to him. JungKook tried to play the music by memory, and suddenly YoonGi returned—just like their days at the classroom. (Note: In his 7 April Year 22 entry of The Notes 1, YoonGi is drunk and stumbling by an empty construction site when he recognizes a clumsy piano tune that he’d been playing “not long ago.” But when he runs to the music shop and finds JungKook, the text does not indicate that he remembers this is his second visit to the shop this evening. Additionally, the Wings short film First Love seems to reference some of the events of this night—or evokes YoonGi’s distorted memories of it, mingled with a representation of JungKook’s later accident.)

In the present (11 April), JungKook wonders if YoonGi is doing well. He has thought about him since their chance encounter but doesn’t have the courage to call him first. (The narrative paths rejoin here.) JungKook wonders where he should go now yet doesn’t want to think about anything. He stops in the middle of the road, and a passing car’s headlights make him dizzy. SeokJin arrives in the distance and shouts his name, but JungKook just thinks, “One more step from here. Just one more step, and everything ends.” He steps in front of the honking car. SeokJin calls him in the distance, and JungKook feels everything slip farther away. The glass shatters and the loop resets.

Awakening once more on the morning of 11 April, SeokJin vows to protect JungKook until the end. The memory of arriving too late as JungKook threw himself in front of the car reminds him of how he was also unable to protect his childhood friend when he was 9. He needs to devise a new plan, since JungKook practically ran out of the house when confronted by Kim ChangJun. The story cuts to that evening, with JungKook looking at the photo in SeokJin’s bedroom. This time, SeokJin ignores his phone’s buzzing reminder about Songho Foundation’s inaugural ceremony. He asks JungKook where he���d like to get next and, when he doesn’t have any ideas, offers him a tour of the university campus.

JungKook seems happier looking around the campus, the cherry blossoms in full bloom. SeokJin uses this opportunity to ask him if anything is on his mind and if school is going well. JungKook answers nonchalantly, but SeokJin remembers how grim he looked at the school crosswalk that afternoon. He asks if JungKook still hangs out with the other guys. “HoSeok and TaeHyung are working part-time jobs. The others… I’m not sure,” JungKook answers, expression darkening. SeokJin wonders if he shouldn’t have brought it up but still presses him. “How come? You should talk to them from time to time.” “But it’s because of me,” says JungKook. “The reason why YoonGi was expelled… It was because he was trying to protect me.” 

SeokJin either responds “It’s not your fault” or “Don’t think that way.” Following the first choice, JungKook insists, “No, it’s my fault. YoonGi wouldn’t have talked back to the teacher if I wasn’t there.” SeokJin shakes his head. “No, you couldn’t really do anything given the situation.” JungKook replies that he should have at least apologized and that he never had the chance to tell YoonGi he was sorry. “That’s how you felt, huh… I should’ve done more. I’m sorry,” SeokJin apologizes. JungKook shakes his head with a smile, but SeokJin knows that he doesn’t understand what he really meant. (Per events in The Notes 1, it is technically SeokJin’s fault that the teacher found them in the classroom.) If the second dialogue choice, “Don’t think that way,” is chosen, JungKook questions, “How could I? When it was because of me.” “No…” SeokJin is not brave enough to say that he’s the one to blame. The camera (i.e. the animation) starts wobbling as though SeokJin’s vision is swimming. “SeokJin?” asks JungKook in concern. “I should’ve done more. I’m sorry.” The episode ends with the same dialogue and animation of JungKook shaking his head with a smile, except that in the second path the camera is still wobbling from SeokJin’s perspective. (This is the only episode I noted in the game that has a slight difference in endings based on the player’s final choice, although it is essentially cosmetic.)

Episode 5 opens with a more detailed memory of 11 June Year 20 from JungKook’s perspective. The high school was holding an open house for parents. Not wanting to stay in a classroom, he wandered off and heard piano music drifting from the annex. JungKook slipped into their classroom hideout and settled down to listen. YoonGi continued to play without acknowledging him. The music helped calm JungKook—it seemed as though YoonGi understood how he felt and was trying to console him. The sound cut off abruptly as the door slammed open. “You rascals! What are you doing here?!” the Dean of Students demanded. He slapped JungKook, knocking him down. A flurry of verbal abuse poured over his crumpled form. YoonGi shoved the teacher’s shoulder and stepped in front of JungKook. “Wow, look at this kid… You put your hands on a teacher? You better be prepared, Min YoonGi.” With that ominous threat, the Dean departed. JungKook spoke from the floor. “Hey, sorry for making you—” “It’s nothing,” YoonGi cut in. JungKook wondered why he helped him. It was the first time someone had protected him, and he believed that he would never forget the view of YoonGi’s back. YoonGi asked why JungKook was smiling. “I don’t know.” Still smiling, JungKook touched his throbbing cheek. YoonGi stared at him before breaking into his own smile and sitting down next to him. They sat there wordlessly for some time. The feeling of growing closer to YoonGi made JungKook feel giddy the rest of the day. But YoonGi did not come to school the following day, and two weeks later, he was formally expelled. (The encounter with the teacher and YoonGi’s subsequent expulsion are also referenced in JungKook and YoonGi’s 25 June Year 20 entries in The Notes 1.)

In a brief interlude in the present (11 April at the university campus), SeokJin reflects again that he does not have the courage to confess to JungKook the real reason why they drifted apart. He walks with his eyes trained on the ground until JungKook calls for him to look at the cherry blossoms floating in the wind. The scene cuts to 30 September Year 20 for another of JungKook’s school memories. He stood outside the school’s annex, reflecting that his friends probably didn’t know that he went there every day. Although school was a place he found awkward and unfamiliar, their hideout was a space for him that put him at ease. On that day however, only HoSeok was inside the classroom, gathering up the items they’d left behind. JungKook realized that the time they spent together was now a memory and would never return again. (This is also an entry in The Notes 1.) Back in the present, SeokJin notices that JungKook looks grim once more and tries to improve his mood by asking if they should go to the beach. JungKook privately wonders: “Do you think YoonGi would go? And no one knows what’s going on with JiMin. Will we really be able to go together like we did then?” Holding up his pink camera, SeokJin says they should take a picture to commemorate the evening. They’re both smiling in the photo, and he hopes that they’ll all smile together again one day. After their campus tour, SeokJin walks JungKook home, ignoring the many calls he receives from his father’s assistant JunHo.

At the crosswalk outside the high school the next day (12 April), SeokJin reflects that staying with JungKook instead of attending the inauguration ceremony seemed like a good choice. He prevented JungKook from jumping off the building and stopped NamJoon’s incident too. But SeokJin wants to keep an eye on JungKook for a few days. While he’s waiting, the principal Jo JinMyung approaches and greets him, asking what brings him to the school. SeokJin tries to excuse himself, but the principal brings up the ceremony. “I thought you’d be there, but you weren’t. Did something happen? Why weren’t you there?” Caught off guard, SeokJin either answers vaguely (“I had something important to do”) or honestly (“A friend had an emergency and I couldn’t attend”). JungKook joins them slowly during the exchange, and the principal seems a little suspicious regardless of the player’s choice. In the “honest” path, he adds, “Next time, think about what's truly important before acting.” The paths rejoin when the principal smiles pointedly and mentions that he should call the Assemblyman soon. SeokJin wonders if Jo JinMyung intends to tell his father that he was with JungKook. Kim ChangJun did not approve of the time SeokJin spent with his friends even in school. “Father thinks it’s useless to have human relationships that don’t help you succeed.” When he and JungKook are in his car, SeokJin notices that the principal ominously watches them pull away.

Later that day, SeokJin meets with his father in his office. Kim ChangJun looks exhausted. Though they’re similar heights, to his son he seems like a massive grey wall. “Why didn’t you attend the inauguration ceremony yesterday?” he asks. SeokJin either lies (“A professor asked me to do something last minute”) or answers honestly (“A friend had an emergency and I couldn’t attend”). The ultimate result is the same: Kim ChangJun speaks after a long moment of silence. “The one thing I want from you is for you to be a good son.” “Yes,” says SeokJin. “I don’t think it’s a difficult task. You may leave.” As he exits, SeokJin hears him call Song JunHo and worries that his flimsy excuse will fall apart. Running into the principal may have made matters worse too. Despite his uneasiness, SeokJin has no choice but to keep going and trust that everything will work out. While NamJoon and JungKook are safe for now, he wonders if he can be a person for JungKook to lean on for comfort whenever he needs it so that he will not resort to such an extreme decision again.

SeokJin visits JungKook after school every afternoon the following days. On 15 April, JungKook asks if it’s okay for him to come like this every day. SeokJin assures him, “Yeah. I come to see you because I want to.” He observes that JungKook still seems to take social cues from him rather than acting comfortably, so he encourages him to either pick what they do next or where they should go eat. On 19 April, however, JungKook does not appear at the school gates. SeokJin tries calling him, only to learn that the number isn’t in service. Someone shouts his name, and HoSeok emerges from the Twostar Burger across from the school. “I had heard you were back, but I didn’t think I’d see you here in front of the school.” HoSeok digs a piece of paper out of his pocket, explaining that JungKook stopped by earlier. “He said he’s switching schools.” SeokJin asks where, but HoSeok doesn’t know. This has never happened before in a loop, and SeokJin wonders if he caused it. HoSeok hands over the paper, which JungKook requested be given to SeokJin. It’s a drawing of the cherry blossom tree they saw together, with a thank you note written at the bottom. SeokJin hopes that his suspicions aren’t correct.

Hunting for clues to JungKook’s whereabouts, SeokJin visits Jeil High School’s administrative office the next day (20 April). He receives slightly more information if he acts like he knows the Director of Administration, but as the student records are confidential, the man only reveals that JungKook transferred to a boarding school. On 30 April, SeokJin is summoned to his father’s office. Kim ChangJun asks him to sit down and continues speaking with his aide, Song JunHo. He confirms an upcoming appointment with the Deputy Mayor before asking, “Oh, did you take care of that incident?” “Yes. Do you mean the one concerning the Jeil High student?” JunHo responds. “I’ve taken care of the issue with the student.” Heart racing, SeokJin realizes that his father was behind JungKook’s transfer and deliberately let it slip as a warning to him. On their way out, Uncle JunHo adds, “SeokJin. You do know how difficult it was because you didn’t attend the inauguration, right?” SeokJin promises that he’ll be at the next meeting. Back in his bedroom, he decides that he made the wrong choice in this loop. He wanted to be someone JungKook could always come to, but instead he pushed him farther away. HoSeok calls him at that moment. Voice wavering, he relays that JungKook has disappeared. Some of his classmates stopped by the restaurant that day, inquiring if anyone talks to him often.

The story cuts back to 25 April with JungKook in class at his new school. His mom likes the dormitory here, and he suspects that she feels more comfortable without him at home. School, home, the dorms—he doesn’t belong in any of those places. While pairing up the students, the teacher notices that they have an odd number now and asks JungKook where he wants to go. He closes his eyes and remembers a voice: “JungKook, let’s all go to the ocean.” He thinks, “I want to go…” The scene jumps to JungKook walking towards the ocean shore. The glass shatters.

SeokJin opens his eyes on the morning of 11 April. He wonders what caused the loop to reset and assumes something must have happened to JungKook after he transferred schools. Again, he could not keep his promise of getting them all to the ocean. The episode ends with SeokJin sitting atop the seaside observatory at sunset. (This is a key location on 22 May Year 22, recurring in The Notes and depicted in the HYYH On Stage: Prologue short film and Euphoria MV. It looks the same in the game.) SeokJin ruminates on what may have happened to JungKook and where events started going wrong. He thought he could be the person JungKook needed to lean on, but he failed. This arc concludes with him wondering: “Was my method wrong? Or is it not supposed to be me? Maybe… If the person who’s supposed to console JungKook’s scars and be there for him isn’t me… Then, who can save JungKook?”

The End of His Gaze

SeokJin’s main challenge in saving YoonGi is the unpredictability of his actions between loops. The opening of this story is no different. On 2 May Year 22, SeokJin chases YoonGi after he leaves his workroom with a heavy bag but loses sight of him in the streets. As soon as he picks the nearest motel, black smoke pours from one of its windows. (The sign matches the motel in YoonGi’s scenes of the I Need U MV.) YoonGi ignores the commotion outside the room’s locked door. Once again, SeokJin is too late, and the glass shatters, resetting the loop.

Waking in his bedroom on 11 April, SeokJin considers how YoonGi backs himself into a corner no matter how or when he tries to intervene. It’s different from the incident with NamJoon because no outside person or situation is involved. SeokJin realizes that if YoonGi’s struggle and variables that make his decision so unpredictable are within him, then the only way he can stop YoonGi is by truly understanding him. He takes out his old camcorder from high school, hoping its footage may reveal some clues. In the first video clip he plays, YoonGi is off in the corner of their classroom hideout drawing music staves but speaks up to tell HoSeok and TaeHyung not to play a prank on JiMin. SeokJin wonders if YoonGi still writes music and remembers the piano in his workroom. In the second video, TaeHyung quibbles with NamJoon, who is tired yet refuses to take a nap until YoonGi pushes some desks together and tells him to lie down. SeokJin focuses on YoonGi for the rest of the video, but he is either motionless or off camera. He finds a similar challenge within his photographs: he has less than ten solo photos of YoonGi, and though his face is visible in group pictures, he is never looking at the camera. Still perusing the photos, SeokJin overhears voices from the camcorder. “It being here is a secret. Okay?” TaeHyung whispers to YoonGi. “What’s a secret?” SeokJin in the recording asks. TaeHyung and YoonGi, standing by the piano, both whip around. TaeHyung dismisses it as nothing and shushes YoonGi when he asks, “Why are you hiding something like that?” In the present, SeokJin wonders what they hid in the classroom and decides that it’s worth investigating in case it can help him save YoonGi.

On 15 April, SeokJin visits their old classroom hideout at Jeil High School, which is still being used as a storage room. The player can choose from a total of four locations to explore, provided they select the piano last. SeokJin identifies his father’s name alongside the message “Everything started from here” on the graffitied wall (he first saw this note in his 25 June Year 19 entry from The Notes 1). Even after thoroughly examining the piano, he does not find YoonGi and TaeHyung’s secret or anything else useful. Uneasy at leaving YoonGi alone for so long, SeokJin leaves the school and parks in front of his friend’s workroom. YoonGi appears to be safely inside, so SeokJin browses through the old video files on his camcorder and finds one that continued recording after he thought he had pressed the stop button. Listening to his and YoonGi’s voices, he recalls a forgotten memory of the day they walked out of school together.

The majority of episode 3 plays through a memory of an afternoon that SeokJin and YoonGi walked out of school together (date unspecified; this event is also referenced in YoonGi’s 2 August Year 22 entry from The Notes 2 and the similar Note accompanying Map of the Soul: 7). SeokJin receives a text summoning him to the principal’s office. The office is empty yet suffocating when he arrives. Principal Jo JinMyung arrives and apologizes for making SeokJin wait. SeokJin looks down, heart suddenly heavy. The scene cuts to YoonGi entering the storage classroom as he thinks about all the days he doesn’t feel like going home. It’s not a comfortable place for him, yet there’s nothing for him at the school either, except for the group’s hideout. He feels awkward in the oddly quiet room and puts some sheet music on the piano’s rack. But when he thinks about how no one is there requesting songs from him, he can’t bring his hands up to the keys. The flashback transitions back to SeokJin’s perspective following his meeting with the principal. As expected, the principal wanted him to report on YoonGi’s behavior. SeokJin spoke carefully so as not to tip him off about anything, but he hears internal whispers calling himself a hypocrite even when he’s laughing with his friends. Fretting over how much longer he can protect YoonGi, SeokJin runs into him at the classroom hideout’s door. He hopes YoonGi doesn’t notice how flustered he is, but YoonGi doesn’t say anything beyond confirming that he’s heading home. SeokJin tries to strike up a conversation as they walk out together, but the conversation awkwardly fizzles out whether he brings up food or the weather. YoonGi points out that his phone is buzzing, and SeokJin’s camcorder falls from his bag as he looks for it. YoonGi waves him off when SeokJin films him to test that it still works. He sheepishly lowers the camcorder and forgets to turn it off. YoonGi breaks the uncomfortable silence when they are almost across the field. “Is something up? You didn’t look very happy earlier.” Heart pounding, SeokJin tries to laugh off this sharp question with an excuse, but YoonGi stares straight at him. “You’re awkward too, SeokJin.” “What is?” “Your laugh.” YoonGi pauses before continuing, “When was the last time you genuinely laughed?”

The scene fades back to the present in SeokJin’s car (15 April). He can’t make out the rest of their conversation in the recording or remember what he answered. He wonders why YoonGi asked him that. SeokJin was always tense then, afraid that his friends would learn of his meetings with the principal. Did the others notice, too? While he’s lost in these thoughts, someone outside shouts, “Fire!” Flames erupt from YoonGi’s workroom. Realizing he should have focused on YoonGi and not the video, SeokJin runs into the building. As he tries to open the locked door, he hears the glass shatter.

The fourth episode opens on the night of 11 April with SeokJin watching JungKook and YoonGi walk away from the construction site and towards NamJoon’s container. A few days later, SeokJin spots JungKook on the sidewalk on his way to YoonGi’s workroom. When asked where he’s going, JungKook avoids his gaze and replies, “I was just… walking around.” SeokJin knows this is because he has nowhere to go. Not wanting JungKook to keep wandering and remembering that he was once close with YoonGi, SeokJin invites him along. The perspective switches to JungKook as they enter the workroom. It reeks of alcohol, and YoonGi is fast asleep among empty bottles. “YoonGi… will be okay, right?” he asks. SeokJin picks up the bottles without responding. A memory from their school days occurs to JungKook. TaeHyung chased him around their classroom hideout, trying to snatch his sketchbook and succeeding when JungKook found his escape unintentionally blocked by YoonGi standing in the doorway. JungKook was dismayed when YoonGi called TaeHyung over to the piano so they could look at it together, but then YoonGi deceived TaeHyung and threw the sketchbook to JungKook. In the present, SeokJin doesn’t want to waste time while YoonGi sleeps. He taps a lost-in-thought JungKook on the shoulder and says they should leave, but JungKook responds that he will stay until YoonGi wakes. 

Back again at the classroom hideout, SeokJin hunts further around the piano. He uses an old mop handle to fish out a piece of paper from underneath it. The hidden secret turns out to be TaeHyung’s abysmal math test. Dejected, SeokJin slumps to the floor. On this level, he notices a small handle on the piano’s lower panel and uses it to pop off the cover. Faded music sheets are wedged into the piano’s frame. A phrase on one of them catches SeokJin’s eye. (함께 라면 웃을 수 있다 : The Korean is not translated in game, but Google translates it as “if we are together, we can laugh.” This recurring phrase is instead translated as “we can laugh when we’re together” in The Notes 2. In YoonGi’s 2 August Year 22 entry, he also reflects on finding the note written in the margins of the music scores he took from the classroom. The handwriting isn’t his own. Additionally, a similar sentiment is expressed in a line of You Never Walk Alone, which is the basis for one of the BU-inspired Graphic Lyrics books.)

This message reminds SeokJin of YoonGi’s question: “When was the last time you genuinely laughed?” “This moment is the answer to that question,” he thinks, initiating a flashback to 20 March Year 19. The boys gathered around HoSeok in the classroom, chattering excitedly about the new club he’s leading. TaeHyung jokingly called him “Mr. President.” HoSeok told him only members could call him that before asking YoonGi if he wanted to join. “I’ll allow you to join without an audition, but only you.” TaeHyung exclaimed that he was just trying to get YoonGi to call him president. “Oh, it was obvious?” HoSeok chuckled. “Acting up again, huh?” YoonGi spoke up from the corner. The memory fades, returning to a pensieve SeokJin. He clearly remembers YoonGi’s face as he laughed with the others. “When did we stop laughing? Did it start that day, when I ruined everything?” SeokJin wonders. “It’s my fault,” he says aloud, standing there with the sheet music in hand until the sun begins to set. (Note: the date of the memory may be a typo. On 20 March Year 20 in The Notes 1, TaeHyung overheard SeokJin in the classroom informing the principal of the trouble he and YoonGi had gotten into. SeokJin realized that NamJoon heard it but not TaeHyung, who remained hidden out of sight and then pretended not to know. It’s not impossible that this memory really occurred in March Year 19, but most of them had only met at the beginning of that month.)

On the night of 15 April, SeokJin follows YoonGi at a distance from his workroom to an alleyway bar. (It is possible but not entirely clear that this is the same day SeokJin found the sheet music at the classroom, which is why I did not specify the date earlier.) It appears that YoonGi visits this bar often since the owner asks him if he has money today. SeokJin sits at a table behind YoonGi and watches him knock back shot after shot. Deciding that he shouldn’t leave him alone any longer, SeokJin musters up the courage to join him. YoonGi doesn’t look surprised to see him. He smiles before looking down again. SeokJin attempts a natural conversation to catch up. YoonGi asks why he didn’t come along the night when everyone got together at NamJoon’s container. “It’s been awhile since we’ve all seen each other, and JungKook… Never mind. You were probably busy.” SeokJin apologizes and inquires how JungKook is doing, then turns the same question on YoonGi when he replies that he doesn’t know. “Anything new with you?” SeokJin presses when YoonGi avoids his gaze. “Well, as you can see.” YoonGi dodges a direct answer.

The restaurant owner brings them a second glass. They are quiet in a restaurant full of chatter. SeokJin brings up the past to break the awkward silence, asking if YoonGi remembers the day they walked out of high school together. “Why do you ask?” says YoonGi. SeokJin explains that he remembered what YoonGi said to him that afternoon. “I want to ask you the same thing you asked me then.” SeokJin is nervous but continues, not wanting to waste this opportunity. “When was the last time you genuinely laughed?” YoonGi is silent for a moment. “Who knows.” SeokJin encourages him to think about it. “What good is it whether I remember or not? It wouldn’t change things now, even if I remembered.” YoonGi’s refusal to express his feelings upsets SeokJin more than his indifferent tone. “I just wish he would open up to me so I could figure out… anything. If only I could tell him,” SeokJin thinks. His internal narration continues over a shot of him in high school looking at his phone: “Or maybe… If I went back further in time, mustering up the courage to protect my friends, and prevented YoonGi from being expelled. If I did, maybe now we’d be…” “What’s with that expression?” YoonGi’s voice snaps him into the present, and he stares at SeokJin the way he had when they walked home from school. “Nothing, just… I feel like it’s been a while since I last saw you and I’m wasting time with useless subjects. It’s nothing—” SeokJin tries to laugh it off, but YoonGi interrupts. “You’re the same as always… There’s something there in your expression, but you say that it’s nothing.” This remark hits hard, rendering SeokJin speechless.

YoonGi’s words echo in SeokJin’s head even after he arrives home later that night. How did YoonGi notice what SeokJin thought he kept well-hidden? He once viewed YoonGi as someone who was indifferent to the world and trying to distance himself from everything. It dawns on SeokJin that he is mistaken. He opens his camcorder, hoping to see something new with this changed perspective. A recording plays in which he, YoonGi, and JungKook are the only ones present in the classroom hideout. When YoonGi starts playing piano, JungKook gets up from the desk and carefully stands by him. YoonGi doesn’t seem bothered and continues to play. Suddenly, he stops. “You wanna try?” In the present, SeokJin wonders why he asks JungKook that out of the blue and replays the footage, feeling like he missed something. This time, he notices that JungKook begins chewing his nails before YoonGi asks him. “Can I?” says JungKook. “Why not? It’s not my piano or anything. You can play if you want to.” At YoonGi’s words, the color returns to JungKook’s face and his hands drop from his mouth. SeokJin watches a little more of the video. As the recorded YoonGi patiently corrects JungKook’s wrong notes, he realizes that YoonGi doesn’t merely ask JungKook to play on a whim but out of respect for him.

SeokJin turns his attention to his box of photos. The player can choose up to three to examine. SeokJin realizes that YoonGi is a little further behind the group and not looking at the camera not because he feels left out or is avoiding attention, but because he is always watching how they are all together. YoonGi knows us very well, he thinks. He stopped JungKook from biting his nails by asking him to play the piano rather than acknowledging it directly. He saw through SeokJin and recognized when his laughter wasn’t genuine, even after several years apart. SeokJin thought that YoonGi wanted to give up everything, would never open up to anyone, and experienced feelings that were impossible for him to understand. “But if we were the ones to make YoonGi laugh… It may be possible to save YoonGi,” SeokJin reflects. With more determination, he vows to save him. “I’ll save him no matter what, because we can laugh when we’re together.”

SeokJin visits YoonGi every day after their meeting at the bar, responding that he’s making time to see him when asked if all university students have this much free time. They grow more accustomed to each other’s company, but SeokJin’s glimmer of hope fades as alcohol and aimless wandering continues to fill YoonGi’s life. Since just visiting YoonGi’s workroom seems meaningless, on 24 April SeokJin decides to show him the sheet music he found in the hideout, hoping it will encourage him to resume songwriting. Upon seeing the music, YoonGi has a flashback to 25 June Year 20, the day he received the school expulsion notice. He ran immediately to the classroom and played the piano as though possessed. The anger refused to settle. He shoved all of his sheet music into the piano and vowed to never play the piano again. In the present, YoonGi asks, “Where’d you find this?” At his cold expression, SeokJin wonders what he’s done wrong and explains aloud that he just happened to find it in the hideout’s piano. The papers fall from YoonGi’s hand, scattering across the floor. “Leave,” he spits. “What? Min YoonGi, what’s going on?” SeokJin asks. YoonGi shoves him. “Just leave.” “Don’t do this, let’s talk for a moment,” SeokJin tries again. But YoonGi replies, “I have nothing to say to you.”

YoonGi avoids him after that. On 25 April, SeokJin calls him numerous times without any answer and finds only torn sheet music and empty bottles in his workroom. He remembers YoonGi’s last words to him and says aloud, “It can’t be. No way.” An ominous thought crosses his mind, but he forces it out to focus on recalling something from memory. The story cuts to him running down a street, trying to figure out where YoonGi went to set the fire in the last loop. (It is never clarified what SeokJin’s “ominous thought” is—it may refer to YoonGi setting a fire or possibly even a suspicion that YoonGi figured out SeokJin was involved in his expulsion.) SeokJin finds the same motel (the one with the sign like in the I Need U MV) and rushes upstairs in a cold sweat. Faced with a hallway of identical doors, he doesn’t know how to locate YoonGi’s room. Whether the player chooses for him to call out to YoonGi or “think of something else” (which results in him pulling the fire alarm), the result is ultimately the same. SeokJin forces open the last closed door with a fire extinguisher, but the room is empty. Filled with regret, SeokJin wonders what he has done wrong. “Like an idiot, I… I knew that the location and method of YoonGi’s attempt could change, and yet…”

“Fire!” someone yells. The motel across the street erupts in flames. “No! Please…” SeokJin begs, falling to his knees. “How can I stop this tragedy? … Am I not enough to stop it?” The story ends as he hears the glass shatter once again.

Additional Thoughts

For me, JungKook’s arc really draws back the curtain on SeokJin’s private life. It demonstrates SeokJin’s challenge to balance saving his friends and maintaining his own daily life, particularly fulfilling the duties that fall to him as a prominent assemblyman’s son. We see little of this side of him until The Notes 2, when his perspective has already drastically changed.

JungKook’s reflection about his habit of walking along the edges of walls is an interesting moment of self-awareness. This “tightrope-walking” is depicted frequently in the MVs.

The car accident and loop reset at the beginning of JungKook’s 4th episode suggests the possibility that the I Need U MV depicts JungKook deliberately stepping in front of the oncoming car rather than accidentally. (Maybe people have already interpreted it this way, but personally the thought had never occured to me due to how it’s shot and acted.) The car accident is a recurring theme in the loops for JungKook, particularly as he is struck the night of 22 May and comes to believe that it was SeokJin who hit him.

This internal dialogue of SeokJin’s from YoonGi’s arc gives me a lot to think about: “If I went back further in time, mustering up the courage to protect my friends, and prevented YoonGi from being expelled. If I did, maybe now we’d be…” SeokJin’s first experiences of the time loops are depicted in the Save Me Webtoon. At that time, he believes that 11 April is the date that he can begin fixing things, but it’s not clear if this ability granted by the cat-like creature truly gives him control over to which date the loop resets. (It is more obvious that he cannot control what triggers the reset itself.) Does he ever go back earlier? Only *ahem* time will tell, but if you want some more food for thought, please check out these interesting quotes that occur before 11 April Year 22.

As mentioned above, the following “tl;dr” commentary summarizes the parenthetical notes I provided in the summaries in case you want to review them on their own.

The Boy on the Threshold — tl;dr commentary

SeokJin’s flashback to 3 March Year 19, when all seven boys arrived late on the first day at Songju Jeil High School and were scolded outside by the Dean, looks very similar to the BTS Begins Middle Scene VCR (aside from the absence of extra students), including the detail of YoonGi arriving last. This VCR predates official BU content.

The photo in SeokJin’s collection that catches JungKook’s eye resembles the shot in the Euphoria MV at 5’32” (the seven boys sitting on a wall with the ocean behind them) except that they appear to be wearing school uniform shirts and slacks.

JungKook’s flashback to the night of 7 April Year 22 expands the context of his reunion with YoonGi, adding that he is drawn to the music shop by a familiar tune and through its broken window sees YoonGi playing piano. YoonGi doesn’t notice him when he staggers outside, and JungKook tries to play the music by memory. In his 7 April Year 22 entry of The Notes 1, YoonGi is drunk and stumbling by an empty construction site when he recognizes a clumsy piano tune that he’d been playing “not long ago.” But when he runs to the music shop and finds JungKook, the text does not indicate that he remembers this is his second visit to the shop this evening. Additionally, the Wings short film First Love seems to reference some of the events of this night—or evokes YoonGi’s distorted memories of it, mingled with a representation of JungKook’s later accident.

I mentioned in part 1’s introduction that every episode’s ending is identical regardless of the decisions made by the player, but the end of episode 4 is actually cosmetically different (a wobbling camera/animation effect) if the second path is selected for the last choice. The dialogue is the same.

The end of episode 7 depicts the seaside observatory. This is a key location on 22 May Year 22, recurring in The Notes and depicted in the HYYH On Stage: Prologue short film and Euphoria MV. It looks the same in the game.

The End of His Gaze — tl;dr commentary

The motel sign at the beginning and end of the story matches the one visible in YoonGi’s shots of the I Need U MV.

When searching the classroom hideout for clues on 15 April, SeokJin identifies his father's name alongside the message “Everything started from here” on the graffitied wall. He first saw this note in his 25 June Year 19 entry from The Notes 1.

Episode 3 presents a memory from both SeokJin’s and YoonGi’s perspectives of the afternoon that they walked out of school together. Although the date is unspecified, this event is also referenced in YoonGi’s 2 August Year 22 entry from The Notes 2 and the similar Note accompanying Map of the Soul: 7.

On his second attempt at searching the classroom, SeokJin finds sheet music that was hidden inside the piano. A phrase written in the corner of one paper catches his eye: 함께 라면 웃을 수 있다. The Korean is not translated in game, but Google translates it as “if we are together, we can laugh.” This recurring phrase is instead translated as “we can laugh when we’re together” in The Notes 2. In YoonGi’s 2 August Year 22 entry, he also reflects on finding the note written in the margins of the music scores he took from the classroom. The handwriting isn’t his own. Additionally, a similar sentiment is expressed in a line of You Never Walk Alone, which is the basis for one of the BU-inspired Graphic Lyrics books.

SeokJin has a flashback of 20 March Year 19 in which the boys are excitedly chattering about HoSeok’s new club. However, given the larger context of this moment (both in the past and what prompts it in the present), the date of the memory may be a typo. On 20 March Year 20 in The Notes 1, TaeHyung overheard SeokJin in the classroom informing the principal of the trouble he and YoonGi had gotten into. SeokJin realized that NamJoon heard it but not TaeHyung, who remained hidden out of sight and then pretended not to know. It’s not impossible that this memory really occurred in March Year 19, but most of them had only met at the beginning of that month.

Did you learn anything new from these stories that I did not specifically mention? Let me know in the replies or tags! Please stay tuned for part 3, featuring JiMin and HoSeok’s stories.

[andtheyreonfire]

comb them in and let them want

Me??? Actually posting something I wrote????? Perish the thought.

Have something I wrote on complete impulse and also took me two weeks for 1,179 words!!!!! Help--

Writer-Bot Prompt: An innocent tweet about your breakfast spirals out of control, when a strange police squad arrests you for treason.

Warnings:  Mentions of fear, a major character is arrested, mentions of dehumanization, implied tranquilizing

Enjoy!!!!!

(Now on Ao3)

Roman leaned against his doorframe with a frown, crossing his arms.

“I must admit,” he drawled, “I wasn’t expecting visitors today, especially 5 strange men in such funny costumes. Would you like a ride to the community theatre? We could use some more ensemble.”

The largest of the group stepped forward, hard as stone and almost as blank. “Mr. Prince, we’re here because we suspect that you may be in possession of government technology.”

Roman blinked. “What?”

“Please,” one of the strange men piped up, “step aside so we may commence the investigation.”

“What the hell is this about? I’m a model citizen, thank you very much.”

Roman heard the largest—Brutus. That’s his name now. Might as well call him something—exhale in the I’m-trying-and-failing-not-to-get-mad-at-you manner. He reached into one of his strange get-up’s pockets and pulled out what looked like a brick. After a few seconds he thrusted it at Roman.

Roman noticed two things. The first was that the brick-like object was actually a phone, and the second was that Roman’s breakfast seemed to be projected on the grainy screen.

Roman thought he should probably be offended.

It wasn’t Instagram-worthy, sure, but it was still his marvelous cooking skills displayed on the screen. Roman still had followed the social media-addict urge to document everything about his life and posted the picture to Twitter. But...

“Since when is bacon illegal in the state of Florida?” Roman asked.

Brutus’ eye twitched, before he jabbed a finger at the photo. It landed on a tiny, ragged leg, like a doll’s. The actor suddenly realized what—rather, who he was pointing at.

Oh.

Roman swallowed.  

“Yes,” he said, willing his voice steady, “that’s my breakfast. Congratulations.”

Roman had scooped up and set aside the owner of the leg before he took the photo. Said owner had let him, before continuing on with his business as if nothing happened. It was a stark contrast to the shaking, terrified pleading he had been met with the first time the human tried to hold him.

“Do you see this?” Brutus asked, raising a jagged eyebrow.

When Roman had first met the little guy, it was pouring so hard Roman could’ve sworn his lights were going to pop out. He’d pulled on a jacket and hobbled outside when he remembered something on the apartment deck. He’d been about to grimace at its drenched appearance when he noticed a strange light pulsing in the alley below.

“You have something of ours, don’t you?” Another of the group smiled, and it was all teeth. “Small? Human-shaped? Literal chatterbox? Ring any bells, Mr. Prince?”

With a groan, Roman had hurried down the stairs, praying that whatever the light belonged to, it wasn’t his. He’d rounded the corner with a shiver to find that same light coming from what appeared to be...a tiny humanoid?

Panic struck like a whip when Roman realized he’d been silent for too long. “I—I have a doll redesigning hobby. That—was one of my projects. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Curiosity had overridden fear and before the actor had known it, he’d been crouching down and inspecting what really seemed to be a tiny person. What he wasn’t expecting was the silver sheen to the tiny’s skin, or to see circuits and panels littered throughout his body. He certainly wasn’t expecting the little guy's eyes to snap open and flinch back, and was anything but prepared for the almost-human to start begging.

He’d managed to calm the little guy down after far too long in the storm, but it’d been worth it. Roman soon began the process of bringing the tiny person inside and drying him off, as well as the process of trying not to make him fear his every twitch. He’d managed to pry a name from him even still.

Well, less a name, more of a serial code. L0G1C-s, or something like that. A dull choice for a title, Roman had thought. The tiny agreed.

A few days later, they’d found a name that stuck. That same day, Logan’d asked if he could stay with Roman.

And thus, the tiny robot became a wonderful part of Roman’s household.

“Well, then.” Brutus rumbled, starling Roman out of the memory. Brutus zoomed in on the leg, revealing a—had that been there the whole time? “If this is yours, then how do you explain one of our markings on it?”

Roman couldn’t help but gape at the hourglass-like symbol on Logan’s ankle.

Over the days, Roman had grown closer to the android, and Logan had learned as much about the actor as he had of him. He’d learned about Logan’s predesigned use and purpose and code, what they had made his four-inch-supercomputer-of-a-guest for. He’d also learned that Logan didn’t live up to his predesigned use, and all about the “bug” in Logan’s code.

They—who “they” were, Logan never answered, and that probably had something to do with the fact that Roman never asked—had always acted angry when he’d shown emotion. They’d express disappointment when he questioned his makers. They’d explode when Logan acted the even the tiniest bit human.

He’d learned that Logan had delt with this by shutting up and doing his job, until he couldn’t, and that’s when Roman’d met him.

But he’d also learnt about Logan’s love for art and poetry and music, about philosophy and ethics and the nature of morals. Roman had encouraged that Logan indulge in the things he was taught to flinch from.

And eventually, they steered away from ever discussing how Logan was and why.  

Because Roman knew that Logan never liked talking about his past.

And now, it seemed like that past had come back to haunt him.

“What—what do you mean ‘yours’?” Roman stuttered, but it was already too late. He saw one of the bastards pull out a pair of handcuffs. “I found that piece from a thrift store, I don’t—hey!”

The actor only had a moment to prepare before the one with the handcuffs slammed Roman against the wall. Roman wheezed, because ow, and the stranger took the moment to flip him on his back. Roman twisted his head to look at the guy—stocky, scars on his face, couldn’t be more than Roman’s age—and he adverted his eyes.  

The scarred man’s face remained blank as he spoke, “Roman Prince, you are under arrest for illegal possession of government technology, obstruction of justice, and resisting arrest. Depending on how you cooperate, that list may expand.”

Even through the roaring of blood in his ears and the pounding of his heart, Roman realized his rights weren’t read. Thick, black dread began to well up when he realized he didn’t have any.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Prince,” Brutus sneered, before grasping the actor’s arms and hauling him off the wall. Roman thought saw a figure behind move him but when he attempted to look a gloved hand yanked him back. “I suggest you stay still.”

And just like that, everything went black.

[chikaiomoi]

take the fire from within, you won’t break me

characters: LOV, hawks (eventual dabi x hawks x female reader)

title: ‘take the fire from within, you won’t break me’ (lyrics from ‘tourniquet’ by breaking benjamin) | part one

words: 5k

warnings: dark themes, drug mention, guns, knives, gangs, shigaraki being... shigaraki, cops, suggestive themes. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

synopsis:

it’s the end of the university semester and you’ve returned home for a break, excited to see your loving parents and your adorable younger sister, himiko. however, something is off with your sister. you follow her, only to be dragged into the world of underground criminals and gangs.

[quirkless au/modern au]

Fresh blossom and cinnamon — the scent of home. It greets you as you walk inside, returning to your family home after weeks away at university. Of course, it’s not the only thing that greets you.

“Welcome home, onee-san!” The voice of your younger sister chimes. Himiko bounds down the stairs, skipping every other step as if falling down was simply impossible. She jumps on you, throwing her arms around your tired form to embrace before you have a chance to drop your heavy belongings. She mewls with excitement, kicking her legs in the air as she hangs from your shoulders before finally letting go. 

She looks the same as she had the last time you were home - blonde hair in messy buns on either side of her head. Still in her high school uniform, she must only have returned home recently.

You grin at her and pat her head whilst dropping your bag on the floor, shoulder thanking you for relief from the weight. “Missed me, huh?” you tease as you remove your shoes and slide on the slippers eagerly awaiting your return. 

“Duh,” Himiko scoffs and practically drags you into the living room. She plops down onto the small couch, but so kindly left room for her big sister. “Who else am I meant to annoy when you’re away? Can’t you come home more often?” she whined.

Her golden eyes peer up at you with such a desperation that you’re almost tempted to say yes, but you know it’s pointless; you’ll only disappoint her in the future. Life as a medical student is hard and you’re busy studying so much of the time, as well as working part-time to support yourself. The least you can do is spend as much time as possible with her whilst visiting home.

“I wish,” you sigh and lean back, stretching out your legs, stiff from the train journey. “Why don’t we go to the convenience store, buy some snacks, then come back and have a movie night?” It’s a good suggestion, usually. Although you have different tastes in movies, the two of you always have fun. 

But Himiko sighs. “Can’t tonight — gonna hang out with some friends.”

Friends? Friends?

Himiko has never been good at making friends. As much as you love her, she’s too forward and overwhelming. If she has friends, you can only imagine they’re of a similar calibre to her.

You might have pouted and begged her to stay if the thought of your sister finally having friends didn’t fill your chest with joy. You grin and poke her arm. “Friends, huh? What are their names? Are they from school? What are they like?”

The blonde rolls her eyes at the sudden barrage of questions. “They’re cool, that’s all you need to know.” Those are the only answers you’re getting for now — you’ll press for more later. 

It’s then that your parents come down the stairs and greet you with bright smiles. Only, they’re dressed in fine clothes and your mother has makeup on, which she only ever wears when going somewhere fancy. You pout. “Are you going out too?” 

Your father holds up his palms. “In our defence, you weren’t supposed to come home until tomorrow.” 

Your mother squeezes your cheek as if you were still six years old. “There’s leftovers in the fridge, plenty to choose from.” 

Wonderful. Your first night back and you’re spending it alone. At least you don’t have to cook for yourself. 

Your parents leave before Himiko does, but once they’re gone, she hurries up to her bedroom to change. After sliding your feet out of your slippers, you curl up on the couch and grab your phone to flick through social media. Friends post pictures of their cakes from cafés, or snaps from their evening at karaoke, or even pictures of the evening sky. You could have joined along if you hadn’t come home a day early. 

After half an hour, Himiko skips down the stairs, dressed in casual clothes, hair still as it was before. Dropping her backpack onto the floor by your feet, she goes into the kitchen. “Do you want a drink? I have stuff for tapiru,” she calls. “I’ll make you one before I go — a way to say sorry for abandoning you tonight.” She giggles and your lips curl up into a smile.

“Yes, please!” 

Your legs spin over the edge of the sofa, ready to jump up and join her in the kitchen, but her backpack is slightly open and the ceiling light reflects off something that catches your attention. Glancing up, you make sure she can’t see before you peer into her bag. 

You gasp, hand shooting to your mouth. 

A gun. A silver handgun. It’s not a toy. No, by the weight of it, it’s real. When you push it aside, you see a sheathed knife too. 

Why the fuck did she have these?! 

It had to be these new friends of hers. Yes, Himiko had always been a little crazy and had a bizarre obsession with slasher movies. In this regard, the knife didn’t startle you that much. But the gun? No, no… Himiko hadn’t liked guns, would never use one if given the chance. Not personal enough, she would say.

Your first instinct — out of fear and concern and anger — is to yell at her and ask her why she had dangerous weapons. But a tiny voice in the back of your mind stops you. 

If Himiko finally has friends, your concerns won’t be enough to stop her. Friends are all she has ever wanted; even the pleas of the sister she loved dearly won’t be enough to pull her from that friendship. 

You must be pale when she returns with bubble tea, because she giggles as she hands the cup to you. “You’re not afraid to be alone tonight, are you?”

Forcing a smile to your lips, you shake your head and take the tea. “No, just tired. Thanks, Himicchi.”

The nickname makes a wide grin spread onto her face, revealing the two pointed teeth that always make her stand out from the crowd. Your mother has a similar shape of canines, but you inherited the blunter ones of your father. 

Once you taste the tea and she knows you like it, she scoops up her bag. “See you later, onee-chan!”

Your stomach turns with uncomfort, twisting and clenching. Your little sister… with a gun. 

When she leaves, you watch her from the window, and it takes all of your strength not to follow her.

Fuck that, you don’t have the strength to sit idle. You slip on your shoes, pocket your phone, and follow your sister.

When you were younger, you were always better at hide-and-seek than she was, which might be why you’re able to follow her through the streets without her noticing. If she has noticed, she hasn't said anything or tried to throw you off her trail. 

The building she approaches is concerning – it’s old, abandoned, and derelict – but it’s not that which concerns you the most. It’s the group of men, all your age or older, hanging outside, greeting her as she approaches. Two are smoking, and from the shape of the piece in their fingers, you can’t tell if it’s tobacco or weed. One is sitting on top of a car, counting notes before handing a lump to Himiko. He pats the top of her head before returning to counting bills. 

From the dark doorway, two other men approach. One is tall, easily the oldest of the group, wearing a waistcoat and a tie like a dodgy businessman. The other you can’t make out that well. His raggy blue hair covers most of his features. At their gesture, the others and Himiko go inside.

Your heart sinks into your stomach. 

You ought to run in and shout at them. What do they think they’re doing hanging around a sixteen year old? And what were they paying her for?! You ought to rush in, grab your sister’s hand and drag her out of there.

But doing so might only push her away from you. It could do more harm than good.

So, instead, you go home and wait for the night to be over.

*

Eyes narrow as you glare at the run-down building, which only looks worse in daylight. It’s a Friday and Himiko is at school, giving you the chance to finally approach the scumbags. They’re in there – you watched them saunter in ten minutes ago. 

You’re too concerned with your sister’s safety to think about your own, to consider that they likely have weapons with them, and you storm into the building, burning with fury. Your hands shake and your heart pounds at one million miles an hour, but you don’t care. They need to know just how scummy they are, how disgraceful it is that they’ve roped a teenage girl into whatever gross activities they get up to. You follow the sound of voices and slam open the door. Six heads snap in your direction.

“What the fu–” a blond man starts, but you cut him off.

“How fucking dare you,” you growl, fists clenched at your sides to hide the trembles. “Do you know how old she is?! She’s sixteen, for fuck’s sake! What are grown men doing hanging around a sixteen year old? She’s still in school! Are you fucking perverts or something?! And what are you paying her for, what sort of…”

You trail off when your eyes register the barrel of a gun pointing at your head. 

The blue-haired man, who looks your age up close, holds the handgun, pressing the barrel against your forehead. A sickly grin spreads across his face, chapped lips revealing teeth. “You must be Himiko’s older sister.” He laughs and the sound shakes your bones – it’s dark, it’s unnatural, it’s predatory. Then, the grin drops and his crimson eyes bore into you. 

“Let me lay this out for you,” he says. “None of us have even looked at your sister that way. We’re not that kind of criminal.” His words earn chuckles from the others behind him. “Pretty bold of you to storm in here like a trembling doe. If you know your sister has been hanging out with us, then surely you know how dangerous we are?” As if for emphasis, he releases the safety on the gun.

You swallow the lump blocking your dried-up throat. Your stomach turns, threatening to bring up breakfast. 

“We’re not very nice people,” he continues. “Not very nice people with scary guns are very dangerous. If you say or do the wrong thing, you could end up with a bullet right between those pretty eyes of yours. I should kill you for trespassing, really, but I’m not that cruel.” Another sick laugh escapes him as he lowers the gun. “I can be nice when I want to be. So, I’m going to make you a deal.”

He holsters the gun and grabs you by the shoulders, fingers digging into your flesh. “There’s a job you can do for me. I’m sure you’ll say yes. After all, you don’t want to die, do you? And you certainly won’t want little Himiko doing it.” With a wave of his hand, he gestures another man over. 

One of the smokers steps forward, holding up a tightly sealed package. You’ve seen enough crime shows and documentaries to know what it is – drugs. The dark-haired man smirks at the way your eyes widen, throat bobbing as you try to form words, but your voice fails you. 

“I’ll forgive you if you deliver these,” blue-hair speaks again. You assume he’s the leader, even though he looks the youngest (aside from Himiko). “Take Dabi with you. I don’t want you running off to the police crying and begging for help. We’d know if you did, you see, and we’d make sure you were very, very sorry.”

Sucking in a slow, shaky breath between your lips, you nod. You couldn’t refuse. Refusing means a bullet in the head. Refusing means your sister will have to deliver the drugs instead. Although your body trembles and begs you to run away from it all, you allow Dabi to grab your elbow and drag you out of the building. He opens the door to a black Ford Mustang, decorated with blue flame decals by the wheels. It’s tacky and cringy and under normal circumstances, you would pull a face and comment on it. But not now. 

Now, your life is in danger.

“Put your seatbelt on,” Dabi’s gravelly voice sounds as you both get into the car. “Don’t want you flying through the window if we crash.”

“Are you that bad of a driver?” The comment leaves your mouth before you have time to consider his reaction. The moment you hear the words yourself, however, you flinch and look away.

He doesn’t snap at you, though. He chuckles and ignites the engine. 

“So… Thought you could burst into our hideout and actually frighten us?” he laughs, glancing at you from aside with those piercing blue eyes. “Where do you get that confidence from? I’d love to know.”

Your face heats up, cheeks turning red, and you roll your eyes. “I wasn’t thinking,” you murmur. “I was just mad. All I knew was that my little sister was hanging out with adult men. Do you know how suspicious that is?”

Dabi scoffs. “I get your point, but as the boss said, we’re not like that. I like women, not girls.” The corner of his lips curl upwards. “I like smart women. Independent women. Women who go out there and do what they want to do.” He pauses, then continues. “I like women who secretly enjoy reading manga. I like women who sing in the shower like no one is listening. I like women who come home to their families a day early.”

You narrow your eyes. “Himiko has mentioned me, hasn’t she?”

“Maybe,” he chuckles.

You roll your eyes again. “Dick.”

“Thinking about that, huh?”

His words only turn your flush redder. “I’m not interested in men like you.” Even if he is pleasing on the eye, he’s a criminal, certainly not someone you want to take home to your family. He’s the sort of guy you’d fuck one night if confident from alcohol in your system, no the sort of guy you’d go on a date with. 

The rest of the journey is mostly silent, save from the music playing almost inaudibly through the speakers. You don’t recognise any of the songs, and when you ask him who the artist is, he names someone you have never even heard of. Not that you have any intention of listening to it when you return home. 

Eventually, the car stops by an empty alleyway, relatively dark considering how bright the sun is. “Here we go,” he said, unclipping his seatbelt. He passes the package to you and smiles. “Don’t be long. I’ll be here if something goes…” his voice trails off when he peers out of the window and down into the alley.

You shrug it off, grab the package, unbuckle your seatbelt, and open the car door.

Dabi grabs your wrist. “No, no, stay here. I know that guy.”

A brow on your forehead raises. “So? Let me go, I need to do this jo--”

“No, you’re not. I went to high school with him, he’s not the kind of guy to want drugs.” 

You sigh. “Maybe he’s changed since high school. Himiko never used to be the kind of girl to join a gang, but here she is. I never used to be the kind of girl who would sing in front of others, but now I go to karaoke with my friends every weekend. People change, Dabi. Now let me get out to do this job.”

He looks at you, head tilting ever so slightly. “You go to karaoke every weekend?”

With a scowl, you shake off his grip and get out of the car. In a hushed voice, he tries to summon you back, but you ignore him and approach the man waiting.

He looks no longer than you, messy blond hair pushed back, headphones around his neck. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, which he drops and stomps out with his boot. “I wasn’t told I’d be getting eye candy too,” he chuckles, plastering a grin on his face. His hand thrusts out. “I’m Hawks.”

You can’t help but laugh. “Is that your real name?” You don’t shake his hand.

“Of course not. You think I’m going to use my real name for this?” 

You hum and hold out your hand. “Money first, please.” You’ve never dealt drugs before, but you’ve seen enough crime shows to know that the dealer never hands items over without feeling the payment in their hands.

Hawks laughs at you but he doesn’t argue. He pulls out a wad of notes from his pocket and drops it into your open palm. 

A fake smile finds its home on your lips and you hold the package out. 

“Oi, get back here!” Dabi shouts from the car.

Hawks’s expression drops. He tosses the package behind him and grabs your wrist, spinning you around. He pins you to the wall just as you hear tyres screeching. Dabi’s car is no longer in sight when Hawks speaks again.

“You’re under arrest for the intent to supply,” he says, and reads out the rights to you, but his voice fades into nothing.

You hear nothing. You only feel the cold, metal cuffs clamped around your wrist. Your body doesn’t react as a police car pulls up and Hawks pushes you into the back of it. 

Nothing. You feel nothing.

Numb. 

Numb. 

Empty.

Until the police station comes into view and your body fills with fear. “N-no, you’ve got this all wrong, I’m not-”

“I caught you in the act, sweetheart. Unless you’re going to tell me that wasn’t cocaine in that package?” 

You fall silent again, only speaking to answer questions when they register you at the front desk. You don’t even speak when they pat you down. Then, Hawks takes you through to an interview room, tells you to sit, then takes off the cuffs. 

He sits opposite you and leans back, crossing his arms. “Detective Takami Keigo. Want to tell me what you were doing dealing drugs?”

Your throat dries up and you force yourself to swallow before you even try to speak. “I-I…”

“The front desk couldn’t pull up a criminal history because you have none. How did you get roped into this?” he asks. 

“I was trying to protect my sister,” you mutter. So much for helping her… Now she was going to find out what you tried to do. It’s so easy to picture the face she’ll make when you return home; the way she’ll cross her arms, the downward turn of her lips, the crease between her eyebrows when she frowns. 

“Protect her from what?” Keigo asks.

With a sigh, you rub your eyes. He’s a detective. If you’re honest, surely, he will understand and you won’t be in trouble? “Yesterday I found out that my little sister is hanging around men much older than her. So, today, I found them and I… Well, I told them what I thought of them. What else was I supposed to think they were doing? She even had a gun in her bag, she’s never had one before. But then the leader - I can’t remember his name - pointed a gun to my head and said if I didn’t do what he asked, he’d kill me. He said if I did this, then it would mean my sister didn’t have to.”

He studies you as you speak. When you finish, he leans forward. “The gang leader, what did he look like?”

Your face contorts into an expression of pure disgust. “Like he needs to invest in moisturiser. And needs to take a bath. His hair is blue and it hangs over his face so you can’t really see what he looks like, but when he gets close, he has the sickliest of smiles.”

Keigo hums. “Shigaraki Tomura. We’ve had our eye on him for a while. We know he’s up to something more than simple drug-dealing, but we don’t know what, yet. If we arrest him now, he’ll not be away for long enough. He’s tricky, though. Always goes under the radar just when we think we have something.” 

“Detective Takami, please…” you say as you lean forward, hands flat on the wooden table between the two of you. “I just want to protect my sister and get out of there alive. I didn’t want to do anything illegal. I’m a university student, I want a good life.”

His lips grow into a faint smile. “Then I’ll make you a deal. You and your sister will be granted immunity… if you feed information on Shigaraki Tomura to me.”

Your chest squeezes tight. “H-how do I do that?”

“You’ll have to go back.”

“N-no, please, I can’t-”

“If anything gets too dangerous, then I’ll get you out of there,” Keigo promises. He grabs your hand across the table and squeezes it, his palm warm over your skin. “But if you help with my investigation, then I promise both you and your sister won’t face criminal charges for anything you’re involved in.”

You take the deal. Of course you do, you’d be a fool not to. This morning you promised to yourself that you’d protect Himiko. Then, you had only intended to shout at those guys, but now… Now you’re helping with a criminal investigation. 

Fuck.

A police officer drives you home, but you ask that he drops you off several streets away from home. You don’t want your family to see you get out of a police car, so you walk the rest of the way. Your parents aren’t home yet, but Himiko is.

She’s waiting for you, arms crossed as she stands in the doorway, eyes narrowed, that crease between her brows. “Dabi told me what happened,” she says, her voice colder than you’ve ever heard it before.

“Himiko-”

“How could you be such an idiot?! You should have listened to him, you wouldn’t have been arrested if you had!”

You’re too tired to argue. Too tired to shout at her for joining a dangerous gang. Too tired to explain your reasons. You can’t, anyway, it would jeopardise your deal with Detective Takami. Instead, you apologise and go to bed. Himiko doesn’t bother you for the rest of the night.

Your plan is to wait a couple of days before returning to the hideout. Given how afraid you were, if you go back straight away, it might just look suspicious. It gives you time to psych yourself up for going undercover, anyway. 

You wander out to the convenience store down the road, craving something sweet and overwhelmingly carbohydrate. You’re browsing the selection of sweet breads when an arm drapes itself around your shoulder. 

You gasp and squirm away, only to come face-to-face with Dabi when he pulls you back to him. “Thought you’d be in a prison cell.”

Cheeks flushing bright red, your gaze darts around quickly to check no one heard him. “They let me go seeing as I have no other offences. I claimed I had no idea what it really was. Don’t think they believed that, but I don’t think I’m the type of person they’re after.” 

His azure eyes pierce through yours, searching deep into your core. If he stares at you for too long, you might just crack under the pressure and blurt out the truth. Thankfully, he looks away and grabs two melonpan and gestures for you to follow him. Once they’re paid for, he guides you out to his car. “Get in.”

You do as you're told because, quite frankly, you’re too afraid to say no. He drives off and bites the corner of the plastic off the wrapper, then bites into the melonpan. The taste makes him groan, and you wonder if, beneath that tough criminal exterior, he’s a normal guy who likes the taste of good food. 

“So,” he starts mid-bite, because obviously he lacks manners. “What exactly happened?”

“Like I said, they let me go.”

Dabi scoffs. “Bullshit. Tell me the truth.”

You huff. “I am telling the truth!”

He just laughs and shakes his head. Of course he doesn’t believe you.

Shigaraki doesn’t believe you when you tell him, either.

“Do you think I was born yesterday?” he asks, glaring at you beneath thick blue hair. “They wouldn’t just let you go. Tell me what happened.”

“As I said-”

His hand drops to his gun.

“O-okay, okay, that’s not what happened…”

Shigaraki chuckles and moves his hand away from the gun. “Good girl.” He studies you. “They asked you to relay information to them, didn’t they?”

You start to wonder how he worked it out so quickly, but in all honesty, you’re not surprised. He’s probably more organised than your class notes. 

He walks closer to you - so close that you can smell the overly-sweet aroma of his breath from the energy drink he downed when you walked in. “You’re going to feed the police incorrect information, do you understand? Because if you don’t…” His face contorts into a tormenting smirk. “I’ll break your kneecaps. Then, I’ll break your elbows. Once I’ve done that, I’ll put a bullet in that pretty head.” A bony hand caresses your cheek, brushing hair away from your face. “But not before I do the same to little Himiko.”

Your heart stops. 

No.. No, not to Himiko.

Your sister’s smile pops into your mind and you can hear her laugh. Not your little sister. 

“A-alright…” you mutter and clench your fists to hide your trembling. “I’ll do it.” 

Shigaraki pats your cheek. “Good girl.” He moves away and waves his hand. “Take her home, Dabi.”

The journey home is so silent you think you’re going to suffocate on it. Yet, at the same time, there’s nothing you can bring yourself to say. Dabi doesn’t even play that shit music he had on yesterday. 

When he pulls up outside your house, you both remain there, quiet, until he leans a little closer and his arm drapes over the back of the passenger seat. “I know this is frightening for you. Shigaraki can be overwhelming and intimidating and fucking sick and scary.” A heavy breath escapes from his nostrils and he reaches into your pocket, swiping your phone. You try to grab it back, but he holds it away and types something in. “There’s my number. I’m here if you need anything, alright?”

You look up at him with a frown as he hands back your phone. “Why?” you mutter. “We’re strangers, we don’t know each other.”

His eyes search your face as he chuckles, and you take the chance to do the same. Scars line his sharp jaw, although it’s not obvious we’re they’re from. His hair is dyed - you can tell by the hint of white at his roots. Well, it’s either that or he’s going grey early. His face is young, perhaps only older than you by a year or two. He’s handsome. Incredibly so. When you think of criminals, you think of rough-looking folk, but he is nothing of the sort. The bright blue eyes are incredibly charming, as is the smile on his lips. 

The smile he forms because he notices you’re staring at him.

You look away, your cheeks turning pink. With a huff, you hold out your hand. “Phone.” When he gives you it, you type in your details, then shove it back into his hand. His fingers graze over yours, warm but calloused. The contact makes you suck in a breath, and you mentally scold yourself for reacting in such a way, 

Dabi leans closer and his voice lowers in tone. “If you need anything, just text me, or call me. Anything.” He leans even closer and you think he’s-

Knock, knock, knock.

Your heart nearly jumps out of your throat as you snap towards the window. 

Himiko glares as Dabi rolls down the window. “Oi, stop flirting with my sister.”

“H-he wasn’t-” you quickly say, but he just laughs.

“Aw, Toga… I’m just having fun.”

Himiko rolls her eyes and yanks the car door open, practically dragging you from it. “Goodbye, Dabi!” she says as she slams the car door shut. She doesn’t let go of your hand until you’re both inside the house and she huffs, poking your warm cheek. “Don’t blush at his words. He’s a player.”

Maybe he is, but all you can think about for the rest of the day is the warmth of his breath against your skin as he leaned closer. All you can imagine is what might have happened if your sister hadn’t interrupted. 

Lying in bed that night, you stare at his contact details. Maybe you should text him… Just to say thank you for driving you home, right? Your finger hovers over the screen.

Ping.

Remember, I said you can contact me for ANY reason. I don’t care what. 

You roll your eyes and type back.

I know what you mean, you pervert.

You stare at the three dots that bounce on the screen whilst he types back. For some reason, you’re eager to see how he’ll respond to such name calling. Naturally, he lives up to it.

I look forward to receiving one of your late night texts, then, when you just can’t sleep because of the throbbing heat between your legs.

You pull a face at his vulgarity and set your phone down to close your eyes. But then… That throbbing heat between your legs disrupts your attempt to sleep.

You won’t text him. You won’t. 

So, you don’t, and you fall asleep completely unsatisfied. 

[readyplayerhobi]

Flower | 39

; Hoseok x Reader

; Genre: Fluff

; Word Count: 4.6k

; Warnings: Drinking, mentions of pain

; Synopsis: You finally decide to take a dip into the world of online dating and find the Flower dating app. One of the top matches for you proves to be a guy who looks to be your complete opposite; tattooed, pierced, a metalhead and oh…incredibly handsome. What happens when you throw caution to the wind and reach out to him?

; A/N: Much faster this time, huh? For only the second time in the story...enjoy Hoseok’s POV! I hope you enjoy it and please reblog if you do so others can read <3 let me know your thoughts in a comment or ask! :D

; Flower Masterpost

-

“Everyone, take a shot,” Jimin says loudly, thrusting the tray holding a dozen or so filled shot glasses around the table. “Good, good. Now, let’s drink to Hoseok defying all our expectations and getting married!”

The younger man is already half-drunk, never being one to go slow or take it easy when there’s plenty of alcohol around. Hoseok isn’t particularly surprised, not when the group had already visited three bars by this point. It was his bachelor party tonight, only two weeks before his wedding and his friends were determined to give him a good time.

He’d been adamant that he wanted absolutely nothing to do with any strippers or anything that could be accidentally misconstrued. The last thing he needed was you thinking he’d cheated only weeks before the big day. Plus, he just wasn’t into that anymore.

Instead, he’d asked Jungkook to try and plan something that would avoid stuff like that. Hoseok just wanted to have a good time with his friends, not potentially cause a scandal. Thankfully, his best man had agreed happily and had instead planned the night to be a series of bar hops around the city. The day had involved everyone driving an hour to a place that let them drive quad bikes, do archery, have some paintball matches and loads more.

He was hurting from the paintballs, particularly the awful gauntlet they’d made him run at the end in which everyone had formed a tunnel for him to run through while shooting the shit out of his ass, but he’d enjoyed every minute of it. Now, he was just comfortably buzzed while some of his friends were well on their way to drunk. 

Namjoon, who was currently suffering from his toddler’s inability to let him sleep past 5 am lately, looked half asleep across the table from him. His eyes were glazed and unfocused, jaw slightly dropped as he tried to focus on the glass in front of him. Jungkook had placed it there about ten minutes ago, full of water. 

All of the guys were here today, having made sure to block out the time to celebrate with him and he felt a little shy at all the attention surprisingly. You didn’t have any other male friends, which meant his friends were all he had in his groom’s party. Six groomsmen for him and five bridesmaids for you.

You’d had to diplomatically pick between Chungha and Soyeon for your maid-of-honour, ending up with Chungha being chosen. Hoseok was forever amazed at how strong the friendship was between you all. Decades of media had taught Hoseok was women saw each other as rivals in everything and he’d been beyond worried about the fact you had to pick between your two best friends.

Reality had been a good slap in the face though, and he’d learnt over the four years of being with you that he should firmly ignore everything the media said. Your best friends had been gracious with each other, both trying to encourage the other to take on the role before Soyeon had given Chungha her full support. It amazed him but also made him happy that you had such a good friendship with them both.

The final space in your bridesmaid lineup wasn’t filled, and Yoongi was going to be walking alone at the end. You’d kept the space free to symbolise his sister, letting her be a part of the ceremony even if she couldn’t be there physically.

That had gotten him a little choked up when you’d told him your plans, but it had made his parents cry when he’d, in turn, told them. Any lingering concern that his parents might not actually like you had vanished then. Your sweet insistence of making sure she was a part of the day and not forgotten cementing your place in his family.

He’s brought back into the moment by Jungkook slapping his back hard, causing him to wince and almost spill the entire shot out of the glass. Glaring at him, Hoseok pushes him back before swallowing what was left of the shot. It makes him cringe, the taste of the straight vodka, not his favourite.

“Man,” Jimin sighs, flopping back into his seat before running his fingers through his hair. “Can you believe it? Jung Hoseok. Getting married. If you’d have said that in college, I would’ve laughed hysterically at the thought. The only thing I thought you’d marry was your dick into any available pussy.”

His words make Hoseok’s nose wrinkle, even if he couldn’t deny what he’d said. It was still amazing even to him that he’d finally found someone that he genuinely loved and who he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. For his friends, it was probably even more fascinating. Yet here he was.

Loving every moment of it.

“You know, I’d have thought after four years that you all would have come to terms with this. It’s not exactly a surprise anymore.” Hoseok was pleased that he hadn’t drunk enough to have his words be slurred. The last time he’d been truly wasted had been when he’d decided to introduce you to the lovely male concept of a dickcopter. Not his best moment.

Perhaps one of his funniest though.

“We have come to terms with it. Still a surprise though.” This comes from Namjoon, causing Hoseok to give him a betrayed expression. Of all his friends, he’d have thought that Namjoon would’ve been the one who understood how his life had changed upon meeting you. While Jimin had married Eden since Hoseok had met you, everyone had known that Jimin was one of those guys who wanted to have a loving, monogamous relationship.

He was the one in their group that had fantasised about marriage even in college. Meeting Eden had been the icing on his cake, even if neither of them was too sure whether they wanted kids or not.

But Namjoon had been much like Hoseok during the first years of college. Something which had certainly surprised you when you’d found out. Despite how diligent he’d been at his studies, Namjoon had discovered that he was attractive to women. Combined with the help of his friends to make sure he presented himself to highlight all his best points, such as his tall and broad physique which only looked better with a few workouts or how glasses seemed to make the girls swoon, he’d been in his element.

And then he’d met Amelia in his final year, falling hard and defying everyone’s expectations. There had been many heartbroken women, and men, around campus upon finding out that Kim Namjoon had finally succumbed to love.

They’d consoled themselves in Hoseok’s bed instead, for years afterwards as well.

Images of all the girls he’d entertained throughout his life ran through his mind like lightning. Girls of all skin colours, heights and backgrounds had graced his bed, or him theirs. All of them beautiful and worthy of a fun night, or at least ten minutes of his time.

He’d used to be one of those guys who was proud of his sexual prowess, safe in the knowledge that he could probably get any woman he wanted with some effort. It made him cringe now. Hoseok had never been one of those asshole guys who’d bragged and boasted about his body count, but he’d not exactly been subtle either. 

Throughout those years, he’d been adamant that he didn’t want a proper relationship. Hoseok had been more than fine with one-night-stands and short-term relationships that were probably better as being categorised as friends-with-benefits. He hadn’t thought he could monogamy. The thought of reducing himself to one woman and denying all the delights that life had to give him was dissatisfying.

The Hoseok from back then was a fucking idiot, he thought now. A self-centred, dick-centric idiot. The very idea of what he’d been was embarrassing to him now, making him more than thankful that you’d never met him back then. You’d deserved way better than whatever he’d had to offer.

Hoseok knew that he couldn’t go back in time to change things. But he also knew that if he was given the chance, he probably wouldn’t either. Because as humiliating as his old self had been, he knew that it had formed the person he was today. And if he’d been open to a serious relationship for all those years, then he probably wouldn’t have met you.

So, yeah, he wasn’t proud of his past. But he wouldn’t change it. Not when he knew that he’d finally grown up in time to find you. You’d shown him that relationships weren’t something to roll his eyes at or be afraid of, that love was something he was deserving of and was also capable of giving.

And here he was now, frowning at the glass in front of him on the table and being a sappy idiot. The way he kept drifting away from conversations made him wonder if he was a little more than buzzed, but he found that he didn’t care. He was enjoying himself, even if he kept having these more serious thoughts.

It was a good job none of the guys could hear his thoughts now. They already gave him enough grief for going googly-eyed over you, as they called it.

Shifting back into the conversation, he realises that everyone is now talking about who they think will be next to get engaged. Hoseok is a little surprised at how quickly the topic had moved on, but given his friends, he’s also wondering how long it’ll take until it changes once more to how many farts a human can hold or something dumb.

Still, it’s his bachelor party and he feels the need to get involved. So he throws an arm over Jungkook and gives him a smirk, raising his brows in expectation.

“I bet our little Jungkookie here is going to be next. Got any plans on popping the question to Soyeon?” He grins broadly, taking in Jungkook’s expression with pure amusement. The younger man looks remarkably like a deer caught in headlights with his expressive eyes wide and sparkling with their usual youthful exuberance alongside more than a little alcohol.

“I-er,” He stutters, his cheeks turning a rosy pink even in the lowlight of the bar that makes everyone snort with laughter. “I haven’t really thought about it.”

“Bullshit!” Jimin’s small fist slams down on the table hard, causing the multitude of glasses to shudder and some of them to clink together. It also causes most of the guys around to almost clawing the ceiling with how hard they all jump. Eyes squinting at Jungkook, Jimin points one finger at him in an accusatory manner that seems a little out of proportion for the question.

“You’ve been together...a while now,” Hoseok’s shoulders jerk as he tries to hold in the snort at Jimin’s lack of numeracy skills suddenly. “There’s no way you haven’t thought of it. Women think we don’t think about that kinda shit but we do! And you’re the biggest fucking romantic on the table, Jeon Jungkook!”

His words are more than a little forceful and Hoseok has to bite his lip to stop from laughing, particularly when he glances at Jungkook’s shellshocked face. Alongside those impossibly large and wide eyes, his jaw has now dropped open and he’s staring at his friend in disbelief. Taehyung has an equally surprised look but Yoongi is nodding along in agreement, nursing his glass of whiskey that he’s had for at least half-an-hour now.

“He’s right, you are. I mean...you cried at Hercules when Meg died, remember?” Everyone goes quiet as they try to recall the incident from long ago. Even Hoseok is trying to remember it, his head tilted before giving up. There have been so many incidents of Jungkook crying at films that the Hercules one doesn’t even leave a mark.

“Sorry I have emotions, unlike you lot.” Jungkook is pouting now, crossing his arms over his chest. On another man, it’d probably look a little intimidating given the way his biceps bulged in the black dress shirt he’d put on or the way the buttons strained a little from his shoulders and chest. But Jungkook’s face negates that with his lower lip pushed out almost comically and his cheeks full.

Hoseok can’t help but reach over and cup them, squishing them until everyone laughs at the sight and making cooing noises to him. It’s with resignation that Jungkook lets him, his deep sigh brushing past Hoseok’s fingers while his shoulders slump. 

Almost immediately, Hoseok is reminded of how you call Jungkook the baby of his friendship group. It’s with a grin that he realises it’s true. He’s their baby, despite the fact he’s bigger than most of them all and can probably kill them just by squeezing their head between his arms.

“Girls dig that. Soyeon likes it, right?” Taehyung comments, brow rising from where he was sitting. His arm was resting on the back of the seat, body looking long and lean with his legs spread. He hadn’t been lucky enough to be in the booth itself and had had to grab a chair from another table.

There’d been more than a few hungry looks given to him from other patrons in the bar but Taehyung had remained oblivious, his long black hair ruffled from the day's activities and tiredness on his face. Although part of his obliviousness may also be because he was both asexual and aromantic, so it may be more than he’s purposefully not paying attention to it.

“Let’s not generalise women,” Seokjin interrupted, reaching out to gesture wildly with his bottle of Asahi beer. “It’s rude and they get angry when people do that.”

Everyone pauses to look at him with eyebrows raised, wondering where that came from. But no one questioned it, instead shrugging or nodding in acknowledgement to avoid him going on a rant. Not that there was anyone who didn’t agree, but the last thing Hoseok wanted was to listen to a bunch of drunk guys debate that.

“Anyway, I think she finds it more amusing. Like...sweet but...mostly funny. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Soyeon cry at a film yet. Maybe I just haven’t found the right film or genre yet.” Jungkook has a thoughtful look on his face, his gaze distant and Hoseok realises that he’s probably too tipsy for this kind of conversation.

From personal experience with Jungkook, Hoseok did not doubt that he would spend far too long having internal conversations, arguments and debates without even realising other people were talking to him. If anyone thought Jungkook was introverted normally then they hadn’t seen anything until he was drunk.

“Keep looking,” Hoseok says cheerfully, taking another shot and trying to clean his tongue with his teeth to remove the flavour. “You’ll find it eventually. I discovered that Meeps doesn’t cry at most things but she will cry at videos of cats that have been nursed back after being hurt.”

“Well...duh.” That comes from Taehyung, who’s giving Hoseok a serious ‘wtf’ look right now. It makes him feel a little self-conscious and so he grabs one of the random beers on the tables before taking a swig.

“Yeah, who wouldn’t cry at that? What the hell.” Placing a hand on the table, Yoongi looks at them all with a serious expression that could almost sober a person. It causes him to start ranting on about animal rights for the next five minutes, no one feeling brave enough to interrupt him. When Yoongi got going, everyone had long since realised that it was better to just let him get on with it.

By the time he finally stops, sitting back with a triumphant expression on his face before swallowing the last of his whiskey, everyone else has already finished another bottle of beer. Almost like they were trying to get themselves drunk as fast as possible to cope with Yoongi’s insistence that people who hurt animals should receive the same injuries back to them.

While Hoseok agreed, he didn’t quite like hearing about some of the incidents that Yoongi was talking passionately about. It made him think of Kasumi and Ciri, which made his chest hurt. 

He was a bit of a baby when it came to his furbabies.

Suddenly though, he’s overwhelmed with the intense desire to go home. To see his dog and stroke his cat and cuddle with you. Blinking slowly, he stares at the bottle before reaching into his pocket and pulling out his phone. The bright light as he unlocks it causes him to squint, trying to avoid being blinded before he realises with a shock that it’s after one in the morning.

His day had started at 10 am when he’d met up with all the guys at Jungkook’s place. They’d then made their way to the place for the day’s activities, having spent until 4 pm there before heading back to Jungkook’s to change into some clean clothes for their drinking time. Soyeon had been amused as she’d watched them all emerge almost like a new man, clean from the quick showers they’d taken and ready to get wasted.

But now he was tired. And holy fuck, he hurt. Hoseok had avoided trying to get up whenever possible. Which meant he fucking needed to piss right now, but moving hurt. His joints ached like fuck from all the activities while his body hurt so bad from the paintballing.

Licking his lips, he finished the last of his beer before sighing deeply. It caught the attention of the others, despite the music and noise. Upon seeing everyone’s gaze on him, he smiles at them.

“Okay guys, this has been a pretty great day. Thank you Jungkook for organising it and thank you to everyone for coming. It means a lot to me. Now, before I get too sappy...I’m going to head home.” He’s already organising for an Uber on his phone, ignoring the outraged noises that start from everyone.

It’s Jimin that’s loudest though, his voice rising in pitch and yet simultaneously getting deeper as his accent gets a little stronger.

“What? It’s not even late! We’ve still got plenty of drinking to do.” Now he’s the one pouting and Hoseok notes in amusement that Seokjin and Namjoon are nodding in agreement. Taehyung doesn’t seem to give two fucks, either way, giving him a lazy shrug before taking a drink of what Hoseok realises is a glass of water while Jungkook remains quiet.

“Guys, it’s one in the morning. I know that I’m flaking out early, but you guys can keep drinking. I’m okay with it, honestly. I just...I’m really tired. A little drunk too, probably not as much as you’d all like but enough for me. Also, I have a bruise on my ass that’s probably the size of Ireland from all the fucking paintballs you fired at me. I hurt.” He whines out the word, wanting to wiggle almost like a child but the pain that shoots up from his asscheek causes him to inhale quickly and still.

“Shit, does it hurt?” The question comes from Jungkook, who’s scanning Hoseok up and down as best he can. It’s not a good attempt given he’s had a little too many drinks and he doesn’t seem to be able to lift his head properly once it’s gone down too far, causing Hoseok to snort.

It doesn’t stop him from giving the younger man a droll stare, which he can only see when Hoseok forcefully lifts his chin back up. “Yes, it fucking does. Why do you think I’ve barely moved all evening?”

“Sorry.” Jungkook’s face is scrunched up and Hoseok knows why he looks so awkward. He’s pretty sure he may as well have Jungkook’s name imprinted on his back in bruises from how many times he’d been hit by him. The guy was far too fucking good at paintball, something Hoseok had regretted agreeing to within five minutes of being in the arena.

“It’s okay. But I’m done for the night. I’m going to go home and sleep so fucking hard. Meeps might think I’ve died in the morning or something.”

“Morbid.” Yoongi chuckles, tipping his new glass of whiskey towards him before grinning.

“Yep. Really glad that I asked for this to be done two weeks before the wedding. I’d have been like an old man if I’d agreed to do it the day before.” The very thought of having to hobble up the aisle made him cringe.

A notification on his phone distracted him though, the Uber app telling him that his ride is here. He feels a surprising amount of relief at being able to go home, the thought of his bed almost like a siren call that was too tantalising to resist.

“And with that, my Uber is here. Thank you for today, really,” Hoseok lets out a yelp of pain as he stands, gingerly holding his ass and causing everyone to simultaneously laugh and look concerned. “I appreciate it. It was fun and I enjoyed it all.”

It takes him another few minutes to finally get out of the bar; hugs being given out repeatedly to the guys while he accepts all their praise and well wishes. The Uber was idling by the side of the road and he wished that he could slump inside but instead, he had to gingerly get in and position himself with the least amount of pain. 

To make it even worse, he had to explain to the very sober driver that he wasn’t shitfaced but was actually in pain from the earlier paintballing. That had led to a whole conversation that Hoseok hadn’t anticipated, lasting the whole trip as he’d discussed where they’d gone and the activities they’d done. The guy seemed to be very interested in it and had given him many congratulations when he’d found out that Hoseok was at his bachelor’s party.

It never failed to amuse Hoseok how easily people wish congratulations upon finding out as if they felt obliged. What he didn’t quite appreciate was the guy's remarks about marriage, which were more than a little derogatory. Hoseok didn’t know why anyone would think it was a good idea to disparage marriage to someone who was only weeks away from marriage.

As he was leaving the car, he put on a polite smile and thanked the driver for the trip. Once he was out though, he resolved to not leave a good review. Maybe he sounded a little harsh, but having to listen to how he should ringfence all his finances to avoid them being leeched by his soon-to-be wife for whenever she inevitably cheated or left him had been more than he could handle.

If Hoseok hadn’t been tired before, he sure was now. 

Opening the front door, he kicks off his shoes with a heavy sigh before heading into the living room in darkness. Ciri is in her cage, fast asleep until Hoseok unlatches the door and calls her out. She’s slow to react, her little body tired until he opens up the backdoor and lets her out. He figures that you can both have a nice lie in if he lets Ciri out now. 

Closing the door once she’s out, he heads into the bathroom and brushes his teeth while peeing before washing his wash. He gets to see how badly bruised he is in the mirror for the first time and winces at the sight of the already black and blue flesh, knowing he’s going to be in even more pain tomorrow.

Sighing, he towel dries his face before heading out and letting Ciri back in. He’d love to have a little cuddle with her but he’s too tired, so he just puts a treat into her cage to coax her back in before giving her an attentive stroke and locking it. She’s too busy eating her chew eagerly to notice him. 

Heading to the bedroom, he pulls off his clothes in the dark before fumbling around to find his pyjamas. He’d go to bed in just his boxers but he wants to try and give a little bit of coverage to his poor body for tonight. Which is why he doesn’t even know if he’s put them on the right way around or not. Hoseok doesn’t even care, he already feels asleep.

There’s a little light when he gets over to the bed from your clock, the numbers glowing brightly in the night and highlighting your face as you sleep. Kasumi is curled up against your stomach on top of the covers, her eyes blinking slowly at Hoseok as he leans over to give her a stroke as well. She gives a quiet chirp of appreciation and he smiles softly at how her body vibrates as she purrs, her paws flexing and closing as she pads at your covered thigh.

And through it all, you don’t even stir. Your breathing is slow and steady while your body is completely relaxed, unaware he’s even arrived home. Hoseok doesn’t even realise he’s smiling until he lets out a soft laugh, knowing that you probably won’t wake up at all. Once you’ve fallen asleep then you’re truly out like a light until the early hours of the morning so he has no fear of waking you up.

Carefully, he climbs into bed and throws the cover over himself with a quiet groan as his limbs feel so heavy. He can’t even remember the last time he hurt this badly. It takes way more effort than he’d like to admit to not wake you up and have you coddle him. Mainly because you’re grumpy when you’ve been woken up.

What he does do though, is shift onto his side that doesn’t have the most bruises before carefully shuffling closer to you. A soft mewl of pain leaves him as he does so but he doubts he could get in any position without some level of discomfort right now. So he’ll be damned if he denies himself some comfort in cuddling your sleeping form.

Wrapping an arm around your waist, he moulds himself to your back as gently as he can before letting out the deepest sigh he’s done in a while. His whole body relaxes, causing him to almost whimper as the pain he hadn’t realised he had is exacerbated by his now lax muscles. Fuck, that’s the last time he paintballs with Jungkook.

Pressing his nose to your back, he inhales deeply. You haven’t even moved, despite all the jostling he’s done behind you and there’s no change to your breathing. Taking in the comforting scent of you, he recalls his earlier thought process about his past. Feeling you solid and warm in his arms provides him with a sense of peace that he’s never found with anyone else, causing him to feel content despite his discomfort.

Yeah, he wouldn’t change a thing if it meant he ended up with you. And he doesn’t care how cheesy it sounds. In only two weeks, he’d be marrying you. He was allowed to be as sappy as he wanted, whether it was internally or externally.

You deserved to be praised and shouted about and goddammit, Jung Hoseok was going to worship you.

[vixenpen]

Fuck A Fan (Bakugo x Camgirl reader pt. 1)

You had gotten the idea from one of your best friends in the cam industry.

“You sure this will work?”

“Trust me boo,” he had replied, “sometimes the best motivation for a man is a little friendly competition.”

Your bestie had insisted that a fuck a fan contest would be the perfect way to get CallMeKing to finally make good on his unfulfilled promise to see you.

Putting the finishing touches on your flyer, you finally posted the announcement to all social media. You knew CMK was still lurking. So he’d definitely see it. Hopefully, this little contest would be enough to spark his interest, if this failed, you were going to scream.

Because for the first time in your cam career, a man had you chasing him.

The audacity!

To be fair, he did say that he wanted to see you too, but had to keep a low profile due to his career. He promised as soon as worked dialed down you guys would meet up.

Well that had been over a year ago, and not only had you guys not met face to face; he also didn’t seem to check in on you as much anymore.

He still tipped and re-subbed to your page. He had even cash-apped you money for Christmas and your birthday.

But aside from that, there were no more late night, sexting sessions, no more random check ins, no more nude trading.

At first, you brushed it off.

He was apparently a very successful man. Successful men were busy. They couldn’t give you every second of their time. As a successful woman, you could relate to that.

Not to mention, you were a bad bitch and bad bitches did not pine over any man.

PERIODTTT.

Buuuut...when the man in question was fine as hell with boulders for biceps, a big dick, and long money, well...you’d like to think the City Girls, Meg the Stallion, and all the other bad bitches you looked up to would understand your thirst.

“Alright, King,” you sat back in the furry, white computer chair and glared at your laptop screen. “Ball is in your court now.”

“Mr. Ground Zero, can I get a picture too?”

A precocious looking blue haired kid asked. He stared up at Katsuki with wide, hopeful eyes.

Katsuki grimaced.

“Whatever kid, c’mon.”

He leaned down, attempting to keep a safe distance from the walking germ pool, while keeping in the lens of his camera phone.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Thanks a lot, Mr. Ground Zero!”

The kid giddily ran back to his group of friends.

Kirishima slung his arm around Bakugo’s shoulder, weighing down on his slightly shorter friend.

“Wow, Bakubro, looks like those public relations training classes have really been working, huh?”

“Whatever, I just don’t need anymore shitty press with kids.”

“You still have energy for happy hour with Sero and Me tonight?”

Bakugo replied with a noncommittal shrug. He scrolled absentmindedly through his phone as he and Kirishima headed towards their agencies to call it a day.

He decided to check in on (cam name’s) IG page to see how she was doing.

A pang of longing tugged at him. He missed her. A lot. Sure, she was a cam girl, and being friendly and flirty was her job, but she always brightened his days. With crime picking up steadily over the past year, Bakugo could use her presence in his life now more than ever, unfortunately, nothing in his schedule would permit it.

He was researching a new threat that had been developing in the crime world. Apparently the new mob of villains seemed to have some connections to the crime world in America, and Bakugo found himself flying back and forth to the west for meetings and to make media rounds to help put the public at ease.

His sleep schedule was completely out of whack with all the stress he was under, so any spare moment he wasn’t working, he was sleeping. Which meant no time for his virtual boo thing. Though he did try to make it known he was thinking about her with bill money.

As he flipped through her newest posts, something caught his eyes.

Fuck a fan contest? Winner gets to make content with me at secure location!

What the fuck was this shit?

Whatever it was, he was certainly going to get to the bottom of it when he got home.

CMK: Hey, (cam name) what’s this all about?

Y/N: what does it look like? Fuck a fan contest

CMK: fuck u mean? You don’t do meet ups!

Y/N: 🤷🏾‍♀️ first time for everything.

Anger hummed beneath Bakugo’s skin. Since when did y/n start doing meet ups? She had always told him she didn’t trust her fans as far as she could throw them.

He had encouraged her to not be forthcoming with personal information and never feel like she had to meet up with randos online for money. He would take care of anything she needed before it came to that.

So what was the meaning of this? Had he not been taking good enough care of her? Keeping her bills paid? Her nails and hair done?

Y/N: u entering or what? 👀

CMK: hell no im not entering and neither is anyone else. Now take that shit down.

Y/n: (voice note) first the fuck of all, you don’t tell me what to do. Second the fuck of all, do you know how much money is in this? You ain’t stopping my bag boo. Period! 💅🏾

He was practically seething. Who the fuck did she think she was talking to like that?

Who the fuck did she think she was saying no to?!

His dick stirred in his pants as he re-listened to the voice note of her cursing him out.

CMK: how much does it take to win?

Y/N: just whoever has the most.

CMK tipped $150,000

CMK: now take it the fuck down

Y/N: nobody else has entered yet.

CMK: nobody else up here has the money I have.

Y/N: if you’re not meeting with me, I ain’t takin it down.

CMK: god fucking dammit y/n. Tonight. 9pm. Text me the addy. I’ll have my driver pick you up.

True to his word, CMK had his driver pick you up an hour and a half before the time he had mentioned.

Your knee bounced, causing the black mini dress hugging your shapely thighs to ride up. You pulled it down absentmindedly.

You could count on one hand how many times you had been flown out by one of your fans. It certainly wasn’t a weekly occurrence for you the way it was for other models.

Fear and excitement fluttered in your stomach.

You wondered what the driver thought of you. Heading to this rich and powerful man’s house in the middle of the night.

You had tried to dress up as if you were going to be taken on a fancy date. Your hair styled, silver chandelier earrings dripping from your lobes to match the long silver necklace that dipped between your pushed up cleavage.

If the driver gave two shits, you at least hoped he thought you were going to get a nice meal before getting dicked down.

The community where CMK lived was on the outskirts of town; hidden in a forest of natural and manicured foliage. One could go literal miles between each home before they saw the next one.

You pressed your forehead against the window to take in the flora and fauna, manicured lawns, and huge mansions. So. Many. Styles. Of mansions!

“Here we are ma’am.” the driver announced.

He drove you up a looping, stone drive way that led to a very modern home that reminded you a bit of abstract art what with its odd angles, jutting sides, and square architecture.

The driver stepped out and opened your door. Once you were faced with the massive stairs and wooden doors before you, the song: Pretty Woman blared in your mind. You certainly felt that way.

Before you could knock, the door swung open revealing a pair of red eyes that were devouring your body head to toe.

“Oh my god...”

“Wasn’t expecting to hear that before I even touched you, beautiful.” He chuckled. His lips quirked into the cocky half smirk you’d grown familiar with from his interviews.

Was this real? Call me king was Ground Zero?!

“C-call me king?” You managed to stutter out pitifully.

“I would prefer to call you by your real name.” He joked. “Come in, beautiful.” He grabbed your hand gently and pulled you through the door.

You couldn’t even appreciate the high ceilings, polished wood floors, and tasteful stone wash colored furniture as you followed Ground Zero through the door.

He took leggy strides into the airy kitchen taking out a couple of glasses from a cupboard. You could only gawk.

He looked good as hell in his short sleeved denim button up shirt and ripped black jeans. His physique flexed under the well tailored clothes showing off the broad chest and bulging biceps you’d seen in the Nudes. His spiky Blonde hair looked soft and a bit damp.

“You wanna drink, beautiful?”

“I don’t accept drinks from new people in new environments.”

He looked up to shoot you a half smile. The usual mischief was missing from his red eyes, replaced with genuine affection.

“Of course you don’t. My (cam name.)”

“F/N,” you replied.

“Bout damn time you gave me a real name. Mine is Bakugo, babe.”

He strolled over with a glass of water for himself.

“So, f/n,” his ruby colored eyes darkened with a predatory gleam as he stepped right to your face. “Why don’t you have a seat? I promise the couch won’t bite.”

He brought a hand down to smack your round ass, making you jump.

“Can’t say the same for myself though.”

Licking your lips, you lowered yourself into the couch. Bakugo settled beside you so close the sides of your bodies touched. He draped an arm around your shoulder.

“I know you got a camsona and all, but damn, y/n, where’s my feisty little c/n? Huh? Lil Ms. Period!” His voice took on a lighter tone as he tried to imitate your twang.

The attempt earned him a giggle.

“Well excuse me, sir, but I wasn’t expecting the number two pro-hero in Japan to be my biggest fan.” You snapped back, playfully rolling your eyes. “Forgive me if I’m still wrapping my brain around it.”

“There’s that smart ass mouth I love so much.” He tucked your chin.

This close to him, you could feel his warm minty breath fanning against your lips. A familiar warmth was already growing between your legs.

Pulling away you asked: “Why me?”

“Hah?” His brows knit in confusion. “Fuck kinda question is that? What do you mean why you?”

“I mean, I’m a bad bitch or whatever, but I’m just...me and you’re...you.”

“Tch. You just answered your own damn question, dumb ass.” He tilted your face back towards him. You felt his other large hand roam the bare skin of your thigh and shivered.

“You’re a bad bitch. You don’t seem to forget that any other time, don’t fuckin’ forget it now, got that? Your confidence is what’s sexy about you.”

A smile tugged at your lips as heat flooded your cheeks.

“You know, when you’re not being a fuckin’ asshole, you can be pretty damn charming when you wanna be.”

“And when you’re not being a defiant little brat, you can be real fucking cute.”

A moan slipped from your glossy lips as his hand crept steadily up your thigh

“Please,” you leaned closer to him, “you love my brattiness.”

He scoffed, amused.

“I’ll show you just how much I like it.”

Without warning, Bakugo scooped you up. His large, rough hands dug into the soft flesh of your round ass as he straddled you on his lap.

Your wet, bare pussy pressed into his bulge as he stole a greedy kiss. Your gasp quickly morphed into a moan as desire burned in your core and flooded your entire body.

His tongue overtook your mouth effortlessly.

“No panties, huh, brat? I can feel you leaking through my jeans.”

“I hate panties,” you managed between kisses. “And bras.”

That little confession just inspired more arousal in Bakugo. He deposited you on the long couch and let his hot tongue snake along every sensitive bit of exposed flesh he could find. Goosebumps rose on your skin.

“Damn, beautiful,” he managed between kisses, “can’t wait to taste the rest of you.”

His bulge rubbed your aching clit deliciously.

You tugged his shirt up over his mess of blonde hair.

He grabbed the deep ‘V’ of your dress and ripped it open, drawing a gasp from you.

“Now we match.” He grinned

“You ass—“

“You’ll have a new outfit by tomorrow afternoon, now shut up.”

True to his word, Bakugo tasted every inch of you. He nibbled your ears making you shiver, licked your nipples making you hiss his name, and devoured your toes like blow pops.

Your body was trembling from sensory overload.

“God..” you moaned.

“You look like you want something, babe,” Bakugo smiled wickedly as he hovered above you. “What is it?”

“Eat me.”

[spine-buster]

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 16

A/N: Y’all this chapter is TEN THOUSAND WORDS DON’T EVEN @ ME YOU’RE WELCOME AND *STANLEY TUCCI VOICE* GIRD YOUR LOINS

January 9th, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was going to go insane.  

This was, perhaps, going to be the busiest day of her life thus far.  This morning was the outdoor practice in Nathan Phillips Square.  She and Peter were responsible for co-ordinating the photographers, videographers, and the team to get down to Nathan Phillips Square.  Once there, Aberdeen was responsible for helping to manage every single every single member of the media who were attending and covering the event, as well as Mayor John Tory and all the wives and girlfriends in attendance.  And though she had the afternoon off to get ready, tonight was the Night With the Blue and White, the organization’s biggest and most important event of the season.  She’d been studying the guest list for weeks, making sure Brendan would know – or at least pretend to know, thanks to her – every guest in attendance, and Peter was doing the same thing for Kyle.  She’d even bought a new dress and shoes for the occasion – fancier than anything she’d ever bought.  She knew that a lot of important and influential people would be there donating their money to the MLSE Launchpad initiatives around the city.  They were even hosting a grade three class of one of the schools who benefitted from the programs.  It was going to be busy, but hopefully fun.

There were cameras everywhere.  Aberdeen knew she’d probably get caught on a few of them, news ones or otherwise, but today, she didn’t care.  There were more important things on her mind.  Brendan was expecting a lot from her, and she knew she had to deliver.  She knew she could deliver.

When she had everything she needed from the office, she made her way down to the locker room.  She entered quietly as she saw all the guys in their long johns and extra base layers, listening to Keefe and Hakstol as they explained how the outdoor practice was going to be organized into teams and tournaments and points.  The energy from the guys was palpable and she could feel it within herself, too.  Cameras were already filming.  She saw William, already with his balaclava on, flash a peace sign to the camera pointed at him.  

When the guys began to put on their gear, she watched Brendan make his way across the room.  He was already wearing his peacoat and scarf.  “You ready?” he asked.

“As ready as I can be,” she smiled.

“Here, wear this,” he said, handing her a knit Leafs toque, the same one all the guys were wearing as well.  “You’re gonna need it.  It’s freezing out there.”

Aberdeen put the hat on as Brendan held her clipboard for her.  After adjusting it, she looked up at him.  “How do I look?”

If this was William asking the question to her, she would have come up with some smart aleck remark – a Costco hot dog or a bottle of Tums in assorted berries flavour.  But because it was Brendan, he said something much nicer.  “Like you’re a member of the Toronto Maple Leafs,” he smiled.  It almost made her swoon.  “Now let’s get this party started, shall we?”

***

“Devon!  Devon!  Your slot is up to interview John as he’s walking.  You cameraman is ready to go live in ten.”

“Carrie, stick with Travis for now.  Goat?  Where’s Goat?  We need him for the French interview.”

“Gerry, you can interview Kyle now, but you only have two minutes.”

Aberdeen was practically skipping to keep up with all the players and media walking through the Toronto streets as they made their way to a full Nathan Phillips Square.  She didn’t have long strides like these hockey boys did with her short little legs.  She noticed all the interviewers being where they needed to be to go live and let out a sigh of relief.  Walking through the streets of Toronto, going on the subway, and having fans, constructions workers, commuters, and more stop the guys left, right and centre for autographs and pictures and selfies was one thing, but once they got to the actual square, with all the media, it was going to be mayhem.  

And she needed to make sure they had Tim Horton’s cups around.

All the guys filed into the square, high fiving the waiting fans who were now screaming at their arrival before they went to the bench and started to put on their skates.  Once they were all there and accounted for (Aberdeen honestly felt like she was on a school trip; she didn’t know how her mother did this with six year olds when she could barely corral a bunch of grown men), she made her way towards where the media was waiting.  Peter was already there.

“Okay everyone!” he screamed out.  Nobody heard him.  “Everyone!” he screamed out again, louder this time, but still nobody heard him.  “Journalists!” he tried one more time.

“HEY!!!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs.  Every journalist and cameraperson there turned silent and looked her way.  Peter looked at her in shock, not knowing she was capable of such a volume.  “Alright!  Listen up!  You each have a designated station to place your cameras.  You are to stay in your station throughout the practice and not encroach on the space of the others!  Journalists and videographers, you’re following Peter who will lead you to your stations, where you are to remain until practice is finished, where you will then go into the media scrum!  Photographers, you are going to follow me and I will lead you to your stations.  Is everybody clear?!”

Everyone nodded their heads and divided themselves easily, with Aberdeen leading the photographers one way and Peter leading the journalists and videographers another.  When she got back to her original spot, that’s when she saw John Tory.  “Mr. Mayor!  Hello!  I’m Aberdeen Bloom, Brendan Shanahan’s executive assistant,” she smiled and shook his hand.  She noticed he was wearing a Leafs varsity jacket.  “Follow me, sir.  You get the sweet spot behind the bench.”

“You know, I look forward to this event every year,” he made small talk with her as they began walking.  “Did you say you were Brendan’s personal assistant?”

“Yes sir.  Although after getting the team on the subway and over here, I feel like I’m herding cats,” she joked.

John Tory laughed.  He’d laughed at a dumb joke she made.  Her dad would be so proud of her.  He’d probably brag at the next dinner party he and Orla had.  “You’re very lucky, Aberdeen.  I bet a million people would kill for your job.”

“I agree, sir.” Aberdeen tapped Brendan’s shoulder to get him to turn around.  “Mr. Mayor, Mr. Shanahan, I’m sure you’re well acquainted.”

The two men shook hands.  Brendan focused his attention quickly on Aberdeen.  “Would you mind meeting Jennifer Spezza and waiting for the others?”

Aberdeen nodded, leaving the mayor with him as she went back to the entrance, near the stairs to the subway.  Once there, she saw Jennifer waiting patiently.  Jennifer smiled once she saw Aberdeen, and extended her arms to hug her.  “It’s always nice to see you, Aberdeen,” she smiled.

“You too, Jen.”

“A bunch of the girls are coming together – Emma, Kat, Steph, Audrey, Saylor, and Alexis are coming together and should be here any second.  Aryne, Bee, and Alannah are running a bit late because of Jace, but only by like five minutes,” Jennifer informed her.  

“Okay, great.  We’ll wait till everyone gets here and then I’ll bring everyone over,” Aberdeen nodded her head.  

“How’s the day been so far?”

Aberdeen shrugged.  “Hectic, but fine.”

“Have you breathed?” Jen joked.

Aberdeen giggled.  “Barely.”

Only moments later, Kat was running up the stairs with Niylah on a harness and leash, and Emma carried Ralph in her arms.  Aberdeen pet the dogs until Aryne, Bee, and Alannah showed up.  Aberdeen led them all to their designated area, and stayed with them as the practice happened.  She liked them – they were a nice group of women, and although Aberdeen was never inserted into any supposed drama she may have heard rumblings about, she was sure they were all good people.  Once they were all there, Aberdeen knew her jobs for the day were done, and that she could breathe again.  Unless Brendan called her to do anything else, she was free.  

“Aberdeen, are we going to see you tonight?” Bee asked as the girls sipped on the complimentary hot chocolate provided for them.

“You bet,” she smiled.

“Oooooooh!” Jen smiled from beside Bee, hopping excitedly.  “What are you wearing?!”

“Oh, you’ll see,” Aberdeen winked.

“What colour is it?” Bee asked.

“Green.”

“Oooooooooooooh,” both women cooed as they made eyes with each other and then Aberdeen.  “You’re gonna knock all of us dead, Aberdeen.  You always look so stylish around the SBA.”

“I don’t think so,” she shook her head nervously.  “You guys are all way too glam for me.”

“Can I get a hot dog pleeeeease?” William’s loud, playful voice interrupted as he skated towards the entrance of the bench where all the girls were.  He shot the girls one of his signature smiles before one of the equipment guys laughed and shook his head as he called behind him for another hot dog.  He was handed one promptly, handing it to William who proceeded to stuff half of it into his mouth in one go.  

Aberdeen shook her head.  Now he was just being obnoxious.

***

“William’s jaw is going to hit the floor, Aberdeen,” Kasha mused as she took some last minute pictures of Aberdeen in her full look.  She’d been hyping Aberdeen up for the last ten minutes as she snapped pictures of her in their apartment – pictures that would no doubt be on Instagram later that evening, pending some light editing and filter choice – even though she should have left for Evan’s place five minutes ago, choosing to spend the night with him so she didn’t have to spend it alone.  

“Shut up.”

“The floooooooor!”

Okay, maybe Kasha was right.  Aberdeen looked good, and she knew she looked good.  She had on her new green chiffon dress, perfect for the occasion: ruched top, draped across her shoulders; triangle mesh cut-out on the bodice; pleated chiffon skirt dropping down to the floor.  Nude strappy hells.  Matching nude clutch.  The evil eye ring Willy got her was the only piece of jewelry she wore.  She gotten her hair professionally done at a salon: smooth and silky old Hollywood style waves with a centre part, held back by a fashionable and trendy velvet headband pinned in place so absolutely nothing would budge.  Even her makeup was flawless: dewy skin, a neutral eye with lashes and liner, and Charlotte Tilbury’s ‘Walk of Shame’ on her lips.  She was a vision.  She was owning every inch of her look.

Too bad she had to work tonight.

“Okay, I think my Uber is here,” Aberdeen said as she saw the notification on her phone screen.

“One more!  One more!” Kasha yelled before Aberdeen posed one last time and Kasha took a burst of photos.  “Okay, have a great night.  Knock Willy dead—”

“—This isn’t about Will—”

“—Knock Willy dead, be fun, and stay safe,” Kasha ended.  “You’re going to rock it, Aberdeen.  And don’t forget to network!”

The Uber dropped her off about six cars down from the entrance to the Royal York Hotel – it was already busy with a bunch of arrivals, but she knew Brendan wouldn’t be there for at least another ten or fifteen minutes.  Once she checked her coat in, she looked around, and Peter’s face was the first one she saw.

“Oh…oh my God, Aberdeen.  You look so chic,” Peter smiled, looking over her outfit.  

“Oh, thanks Peter,” she smiled back.  “You look quite dapper yourself.  We clean up pretty nice, don’t you think?”

“I’d say,” he quipped.  “Gotta make sure all these new suits fit before I go to the All-Star Game.”

Peter had been talking about the All-Star Game since at least Christmas.  It was the event he looked forward to the most all season, even more than this, because of all the people he was able to meet and network with.  This year, it was being hosted in St. Louis, and he, Brendan, and Kyle were going down together.  She’d have at least eight days off during that time period.  She was basically counting down the days.  “Well, wear this one.  You look good.”

“You want some champagne before our bosses get here?” he asked, already flagging down one of the waitresses.  He took two flutes off the tray and handed one to Aberdeen.  “To the dream job,” he said, raising the glass slightly.

Aberdeen smirked.  “To the dream job.”

They both drank the champagne all in one go.  Aberdeen loved champagne, and of course this was the good champagne – so she almost immediately wanted another.  When another waiter came by, they placed their empty glasses on his tray.  Peter left to go to the washroom quickly before Kyle got there.  Aberdeen was left alone.

That’s when she saw William.

He was in a suit, of course – a black, three-piece corduroy suit with a white shirt and black skinny tie – and his hair was tied back in a half ponytail like a European soccer player.  He’d trimmed his beard since that morning at the outdoor practice for a much more polished look – still stubbly and a bit scruffy (just how she liked him…fuck) but presentable and respectable.  Appropriate for a gala full of rich people.  He looked great.  The suit fit him perfectly.  His hair was shiny as hell – probably shinier than hers.  He stood confidently.

And then he saw her.  

His jaw dropped.  Literally dropped.  And when he finally realized it had dropped he brought his hand up to cover it, barely, his smile from ear to ear peeking through the weak attempt.  She hated to admit it, but she loved having that effect on him – she loved having that visible effect on him, one that made his jaw drop uncontrollably.  She mentally prepared herself as he began to walk over to her.  She knew she had to keep it cool.  If he made her weak at the knees barely five minutes into her attendance at the event, she’d be a goner.  

“Hey Will,” she smiled, a twinkle in her eye that dared him to give her another up-down.

“Aberdeen…I…” he paused, unable to find the words.  He even shook his head.  “You…I…wow!” he giggled out.  She really left him unable to form a cohesive sentence.  But she waited it out, not saying anything until he said something.  She wanted to make him suffer, if only a little bit.  “You look beautiful, minskatt,” he finally said, four cohesive words in a row that made sense.

“Thanks, Will.”

“I mean…you’re the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen on any day, but this…” he said, licking his lips.  “I don’t know how I’ll be able to control myself all night.”

Aberdeen tried finding any hint of lie in what he was saying, but she couldn’t.  He was too bashful and it was all coming out so sincerely – he really didn’t have the words.  “I think it helps we’re seated at different tables.”

“Just means the desire will grow until the end of the night,” he said.  “So long as I get to look at you all night, I’ll consider myself a lucky guy.”

She was blushing at this point, and it wasn’t because of him blatant flirting – he was used to that.  She was blushing more about the fact that he meant every word, that every word was so sincere in his tone, that she could see how much she was really affecting him.  “You flatter me too much, Will.”

“You deserve it, minskatt.  You’re stunning.  The most beautiful girl in the room.  But how do I look?”

With nobody around, nobody to hear and nobody to record a witty remark, she smiled slightly.  “You’re the most handsome man in the room.”

Before she could say anything else, Peter came back.  And when Peter came back, William played it cool, and made some small talk before walking off, but as he walked off, he shot Aberdeen a look that followed her around the room.  Wherever he was standing, whoever he was talking to – William was always staring at her, giving her that look, and it sent shivers down her spine as she tried to keep up a conversation with Peter.

Brendan and Catherine finally arrived, along with Kyle and Shannon, and Peter and Aberdeen got to work.  Standing discreetly behind them at all times, they whispered the names of all the attendees who approached them throughout the party, starting in the foyer and moving into the Canadian room – the massive ballroom where everything would be taking place.  And there were a lot of guests.  With over 1000 people in attendance, Aberdeen and Peter needed to know…well, probably around three hundred of them.  She’d been studying for weeks.

“That’s Brian J. Porter, the President and CEO of Scotiabank.”

“Wendy Freeman, the president of CTV News.”

“That’s Gary Doncaster, of the law firm Doncaster, Perlman, and Dobbes.”

Brendan played it cool the entire time.  After Kyle and Peter had separated from them for a bit, they rejoined each other.  From practically across the room, she saw William sipping on a glass of water, watching her intently.  He set it down at what she presumed to be his table.  She tried to focus on the job at hand.  

“Peter?” she heard Kyle say suddenly, in a nervous voice.  Someone and his wife were waving at him and Brendan, slowly making their way towards them, and Kyle clearly needed to know who they were.  

“Oh!  Um…oh my God,” Peter began, panicking.  “I just – I can’t remember what his name is.  I—I just saw his name this morning on the list.”

Aberdeen began panicking too now.  She tried to urge Peter to figure it out, but he couldn’t get it.  “It’s…oh, I know this!  It’s something to do with…wait, he was…he was part of the…oh God!  I know this.  Um…”

The man and his wife were dangerously close.  Aberdeen swooped in behind Kyle.  “That’s Malcolm Mercer, the Chair of the Government and Public Affairs Committee of the Law Society of Ontario, and that’s the woman he left his wife for, Rebecca.”

Aberdeen even surprised herself with that.  She watched as Kyle politely greeted Rebecca first before shaking hands with Malcolm, starting some small talk with them.  She looked over at Peter, who was already looking at her.  “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

“I got you,” she nodded.

***

Brendan, Catherine, and Aberdeen were seated with Ron MacLean from Hockey Night in Canada, and an array of other guests who had paid top dollar to sit with the President of the Toronto Maple Leafs, one of whom was just a solidly rude aging man on his own personal power trip.  Thankfully, he wasn’t seated next to her, or Brendan for that matter, but she could still hear him: the stiff comments, the complaints.  Clearly, he only cared about sitting at this specific table.  Aberdeen would have to make sure that if he attended next year, he was nowhere near Brendan.

There was a traditional Indigenous land acknowledgement at the beginning – the rude man rolled his eyes, which made Aberdeen want to kill him right then and there – followed by a speech made by Brendan – the rude man was on his phone for half of it, not bothering to listen to Brendan’s words of inspiration and gratitude to everyone who donated for the cause.  When Brendan got back to the table, Christine Simpson came out, ushering in the grade three class onto the stage, the students all dressed up and walking in a straight line.  They waved at their parents who were at their own tables, jumping and jiggling excitedly as little kids did.  Aberdeen thought it was the cutest thing.  Christine interviewed some of the students, asking them about school, hockey, meeting the Leafs, and about the integrated classroom and nutrition program at their school – key parts of the MLSE Launchpad initiative.  The crowd was as enamoured with them as Aberdeen was.  A part of her wished it could just be the kids talking all night.  

When their interview was over, the kids waved goodbye to the crowd before the DJ began to play them off stage.  The opening notes of ‘Uptown Funk’ by Bruno Mars began playing, and the kids went crazy.  They stopped walking off stage.  They looked around to try to find where the music was coming from, but soon enough, a lot of the kids began to dance – shimmying from side to side, pumping their hands in the air, and twirling on one foot attempting pirouettes.  Christine was trying her best, but they weren’t moving.  

“Can someone get the kids off the stage so we can get a move on?” the rude man commented loudly, so loud Aberdeen could hear him above the music.  She was incensed by his comment, her blood boiling.  How dare he.  How dare he say something when this entire event was for charity – was for these kids on stage!  

So she took matters into her own hands.

She made a point to push her chair back as dramatically as possible, shaking the place settings on the table with the force of her hands.  Everybody at the table looked at her as she rose from her seat and began making her way towards the stage.  As she pulled the skirt of her dress up so she wouldn’t trip up the stairs, she made eye contact with one of the kids.  And instead of shuffling him towards the back, instead of helping Christine, who had hall but given up, she extended her arms and grabbed the little boy’s hands in hers and began dancing with him.  She was dancing on stage in front of over a thousand people with an eight year old.  And she wasn’t embarrassed one bit.  

As she danced, she watched as William began to make his way up to the stage from the opposite end, rushing up exactly like she had and extending his arms to begin dancing with another student, a girl, twirling her around.  Then she saw Bee McTavish, Morgan Rielly, and Jennifer and Jason Spezza, all at once, rush towards the stage too, laughing and dancing with the kids.  Before she knew it, the entire team was up there, as were their significant others, dancing with the kids and each other to Uptown Funk for the entire duration of the song.  Aryne and John, Saylor and Kasperi – they were all there.  As she danced, she made eye contact with William, who was already looking at her, a smile spread out on his face from ear to ear.  Jennifer gave her a double thumbs up.  Bee was laughing at Morgan’s horrible dancing, but the kid he was dancing with was absolutely loving it and mimicking every move.  

She barely noticed the crowd cheering and clapping along to the beat until the end of the song when there was a round of applause.  The kids finally got their cue and began heading offstage.  A few of them had to finish bowing before the audience, but once they were all gone, the team left the stage too, giant smiles on all their faces.  When Aberdeen returned to the table, she saw the rude man staring at her indignantly.  Meanwhile, Brendan was beaming.  

“Thank you for that,” he said as she took her seat beside him.  Even Catherine was smiling.  

“You’re not mad I did that?”

“Are you kidding?” he asked.  “That’s been the highlight of the night so far.  It’ll probably stay the highlight of the night.”

Aberdeen smiled.  “I had to do something to get that guy at the other end to shut up,” she whispered.

“Oh, I know, believe me.”

The night went on with its regularly scheduled events.  There was an interview portion with the big four European players – Andreas, Freddie, Will, and Kappy – in between the dinner courses.  There was a Q&A with Jason and Zach as well, and the highlight of the night, which was a game of Family Feud with the Leafs Legends – Darcy Tucker, Curtis Joseph, Daryl Sittler, Wendel Clark, and Doug Gilmour – and some of the current Leafs – John, Morgan, Auston, Mitch, and Tyson.  It was hilarious.  Aberdeen teared up at one point because she was laughing so hard.  

After dinner there was a lot of mingling – a lot of meeting new people and speaking about her position because everybody was just so interested about what Brendan Shanahan’s personal assistant did all day – and a lot of…well, staring.  William caught her eye around the room.  Wherever he was, wherever she was, whoever he was speaking to, whoever she was speaking to, whenever she even so much as just glanced his way, he was already looking, and whenever he so much as glanced her way, she was already looking.  He was true to his word in that he couldn’t keep his eyes off of her, that as long as he got to stare at her all night he’d consider himself a lucky man, because all he seemed to be doing was staring at her.  And as the night progressed, he got closer and closer, eventually ending up in her circle, and although the guests were delighted to see William Nylander, she was nervous but excited to see Will, Willy, the guy that so obviously couldn’t keep himself away from her.  

When the guests left, they were left alone.  Aberdeen gulped.  William looked pained.  “I can’t take it anymore,” he said, only loud enough for her to hear, despite there being no-one around them.  Brendan was on the other side of the room.

“Can’t take what?”

“You.  In that dress,” he clarified.  “You have no idea how good you look.  Every time I look at you, I just…you—you know how I feel about you, minskatt.”

When that nickname escaped her lips, tied together with the look on his face and the sparkle in his eye, Aberdeen almost melted right then and there.  “Will—”

“Can we get out of here?”

“No, Will,” she giggled.  Any other moment in time she would have scolded him for making the suggestion, but at this point she didn’t care.  “I’m technically still working.”

“Then let me get you a drink,” he offered.  “And let me take you home.  Please let me take you home after everything is done.  I’m desperate here.”

“Desperate?” she decided to play with him.  “Why?”

“Because of you.  Because you walk in here looking like that and you expect me to control myself?  All I’ve wanted to do all night is be next to you.  All I’ve wanted to do is be with you, be anywhere near you.  And it’s torture.  Torture that I can’t talk to you the way I want to talk to you.  Torture that I can’t touch you like I want to touch you.”

A shiver ran up her spine.  “You’re getting into inappropriate territory again, Will.”

“And I’ll say it again: can’t you tell by now that I don’t care that it’s inappropriate?”

The last time he’d said that to her, she replied with “And can’t you see that I do care?”  But she didn’t care anymore.  She honestly didn’t.  After what happened on Christmas (besides the fact that she was still wearing the ring – she hadn’t taken it off since) and on New Year’s, she knew that they had both ventured on to the inappropriate territory equally.  It was no longer just his fault, or the fault of his persistence.  They were equally to blame here.  She downed the last of her drink.  “I like it.”

He had a confused look on his face.  “You like what?”

“I like that you’re being inappropriate.”

Aberdeen couldn’t describe the smile that took over his face upon him hearing those words.  They were six words that told him everything he needed to know.  “Aberdeen, you can’t just say stuff like that and expect me to react normally,” he said, throwing her own words that she’d said to him so many times back at her.

“Maybe I don’t want you to react normally.”

“Aberdeen!  William!”

They looked to their side to see Bee McTavish approaching them.  Aberdeen could tell William hated the interruption, but because it was Bee, he softened.  “We’re gonna do some shots.  Want some shots?”

The first shot was tequila.  The second was a B-52, and Brendan even joined in.  Aberdeen could feel herself getting more giggly with each millilitre of alcohol that went into her system.  Giggly about the event.  Giggly that she was taking shots with the Toronto Maple Leafs.  

Giggly about William.

***

“Just one stop at Nelson Street, please,” William said to the Uber driver as he slipped into the car after Aberdeen.  Brendan, Catherine, Kyle, and Shannon had left the party early, so they weren’t able to see William confirming with Aberdeen that he could take her home, and they weren’t able to see him calling an Uber, and him grabbing their coats, and him leading Aberdeen to the much quieter side of the Fairmont Royal York for the Uber to pick them up so he could touch her waist and hold her hand and get close to her – closer than what was necessary – on a cold winter’s night while the rest of the guest list waited at the front of the hotel for cabs and Ubers.  “I know it’s a short ride, but I’ll give you a big tip.”

He was holding Aberdeen’s hand.

“Do you still have all those songs I downloaded for you?” Aberdeen asked as the driver started moving.

William thought it to be a random question.  “Of course I do.  Why would I delete them?”

“I have a new song you need to add,” she said.

He smiled.  “I added a song I heard on the radio that made me think of you,” he began to pull out his phone.

“Which one?”

He searched for the playlist in his Spotify, the former ‘Driving in Toronto at Night’ playlist he’d renamed to ‘Minskatt’.  He scrolled down to the bottom of the list before he found it.  He turned the volume on his phone all the way up before the opening notes of ‘Adore You’ by Harry Styles began playing.  He’d heard it all over the radio since December, and not only did the beat and rhythm reminds him of the type of music Aberdeen liked and put on the playlist, but when he actually listened to the lyrics, he knew he had to add it.

Aberdeen’s jaw dropped and a smile overtook her face.  “This is it.”

“What’s it?”

“This was the song I was just going to add.”

William smiled.  “Does that mean I have superior music taste now?” he joked.

Aberdeen giggled.  “You’re working on it.”

She began to sing, and William had never heard anything sweeter.  She was louder than when she half-mumbled, half-sang ‘Style’ by Taylor Swift in the passenger’s seat of his car when they were driving on the Gardiner into the downtown core.  Perhaps the shots had gotten to her, but they were so long ago and he was unconvinced.  More than anything, he just hoped her walls had finally crumbled, that she felt like she could be uninhibited in front of him like he always wanted her to be.  No degree of formality of being a hockey player and a personal assistant for that hockey player’s boss – instead, being just two kids in their early 20s falling for each other like they had six months ago when she wouldn’t shut up about her graduation or her writing or her favourite books and he couldn’t stop listening to her.

William didn’t know the lyrics off by heart like she did, but he was able to contribute certain lines he remembered.  Certain lines that would hammer a message home.  

I get so lost inside your eyes Would you believe it?

He looked at her when he sang them out loud, and she looked at him when she sang them out too, albeit more emphatically and with more swaying and dramatic hand motions.  It was like they were admitting to each other what they were really thinking; what they couldn’t say to each other in the presence of other people, but what they could say to each other alone in hotel rooms in the middle of the night or in the backs of Ubers after parties.

Honey I’d walk through fire for you Just let me adore you Like it’s the only thing I’ll ever do

Aberdeen bit her lip after they sang the chorus to each other.  She couldn’t believe they were doing this.  She couldn’t believe how quickly her walls had fallen.  She’d spent two months trying to forget him and four months trying to keep him at bay, only for the last three weeks to make all of that obsolete.  “Willy?” she asked, her voice sweet as the second verse began to play.

“Minskatt?” he prepared himself.

“I can’t believe you added Harry Styles on your own free will.”

William snorted.  This was why he was so enamoured with her.  “I can’t believe you think I wouldn’t.”

They arrived at her building, getting out of the car and slipping through the front doors, nodding politely at the concierge before walking to the elevator.  As they waited for it to come down, Aberdeen lay her head on William’s shoulder.  “My feet are fucking killing me,” she whispered.

“Are they?”

“They’re, like, pounding,” she said.  “They’re pretty to look at but fuck they hurt.”

Before she could realize what was happening, William had scooped her up in his arms, shifting to carry her bridal style as the elevator pinged to signal its arrival.  “What are you doing?” she laughed out.

“Being a knight in shining armour, clearly,” he smiled.  He felt Aberdeen wrap her arm around the back of his shoulders as he stepped into the elevator.  Aberdeen pressed her phone number.  “Better?”

“Much.”

“Why do you girls even wear shoes like that if they hurt so much?”

She snorted.  “You tell me.  Men wore heels first,” she informed him.

“We did?!”

She nodded.  “Apparently you guys wanted to show off your wealth and calves more than we did at first.”

William laughed in his signature way.  “I do have some nice calves.”

When the elevator brought them up to Aberdeen’s floor, she rummaged through her clutch to find her keys, sticking them in the door to open in.  Luckily, they could be as loud as they wanted since Kasha was spending the night at Evan’s; it prompted Aberdeen to hook her finger into the strap at the heel and throw off her shoes.  William kicked off his shoes and walked through her apartment, carrying her to her bedroom.  It was maybe a bold move, to go straight there, but he didn’t care.

“Wanna see me rip my eyelashes off?” she giggled as he finally set her down on the floor of her bedroom.  

“Your eyelashes?!”

“The fake ones,” she mumbled, just going for it.  She saw a horrified look on William’s face, causing her to burst out into a fit of giggles.  She threw the first one in the garbage before taking off the second, William still watching with a horrified look on his face.  “What?” she smiled.

“That doesn’t hurt?” he asked.

“You get used to it,” she shrugged.  “You know what they say Will.  Beauty is pain.”

“My beauty doesn’t require pain.”

Aberdeen burst out laughing, William following with his signature giggle.  She couldn’t control her laughing as she leaned her head against his chest, shaking it slightly before bringing it back up to look at him.  “You’re literally the worst, Will.  No other guy on the team would say something like that.”

“No other guy on the team is as beautiful as I am.”

His tone made it come out like a joke, but Aberdeen couldn’t help but thinking he was right.  There wasn’t another guy on the team as good-looking as he was.  She huffed out a laugh, turning around so her back was towards him.  “Can you unzip me?”

It was a suggestive request, and she knew it.  He unzipped her dress slowly as she pulled her hair out of the way for him.  They were both still giggling as she felt the material of the dress become looser, and she was careful when he was finished to step out of it gently so she didn’t mess up the fabric or dirty it on the floor of her bedroom.  She immediately brought it towards the hanger she’d left on her dresser, making sure to hang it in her closet neatly before turning back towards Will.  It was only then that she realized she was in her underwear in front of him, the most exposed she’d ever been since…well…

She watched as he practically ripped off his tie; watched as he unbuttoned his shirt without a care in the world.  His suit was probably custom made and tailored and cost over a thousand dollars but he didn’t even care.  What was more alarming was that he was stripping and making himself comfortable in her bedroom.  “Will—”

“You can change.  I’ll look away,” he said, turning her back towards her automatically.  

That wasn’t even what she wanted, but damnit, he was good.  She unclasped her bra and threw on her top quickly before stepping into her pajama shorts.  “Um, I have to go wash my makeup off,” she whispered.

She didn’t wait for a reply as she stepped across the hallway into her bathroom.  As she washed all of her makeup off, the seriousness of the situation crept up on her.  William was in her apartment.  He was in her bedroom.  He was undressing.  She knew he’d been in there before, that if he stayed over it wouldn’t even be the first time he’d slept in her bed, but it was still a big deal.  It was still something that, really, truly, shouldn’t be happening in every sense of the word.  But it was.  And neither of them was going to put a stop to it.    

When she stepped back into her room, closing her door behind her, she saw William waiting for her to get into bed.  He had nothing on besides his boxer-briefs.  She knew that if they both got in there, there’d be no room.  They’d be squished against each other.  She knew this because it had happened before – the night they hooked up, and then the night after what Ethan did to her – it was the same situation.  Standing now, in her room, looking between the bed and William, things felt…different.  

She climbed into bed, liking to be on the side closest to the wall, anyway.  William followed her, even going so far as to start to pull the covers over their bodies as he snuggled in next to her.  “Will—”

“Shhhhhh,” he cooed.  “Aberdeen, stop freaking out.”

“But Willy—”

“I just want to lie down.  We’re just lying down,” he said, his voice sleepy.  He pulled her against him.  She let him.  He nestled his head onto her chest, under her chin and above her breasts.  She let him.  She could feel the contented sigh he let out as he settled into her, as her body relaxed into his, as she began running her fingers through his beautiful blonde hair.  He let her.

“Will?” her voice was soft.

“Mhm?”

“You – I – you—”

“Spit it out, Aberdeen.”

“You could have any girl in the city, Willy,” she blurted out.  She immediately regretted it.  “Any girl in the city.  W…Why do you keep – I mean, why are you here with m—”

“Because I only like you, Aberdeen,” his voice was so soft, sleepy, tender.  The most tender she’d ever heard it.  “You still don’t understand?”  

Aberdeen hesitated.  “I guess not.”

“Well…I like you,” he stressed his sentiment again.

“But why?”

“Because you make me nervous.  And nobody makes me nervous,” he said softly.  “And because I like talking to you.  And I don’t like talking to anyone.”

There was nothing more she could say; nothing more she could do.  He always answered her question and always answered her honestly; he had never lied to her.  He had laid it all out for her and she could either take it or leave it.  

Of course she was going to take it.  

***

Aberdeen woke up slowly the next morning early.  Stupidly early, because of her natural alarm clock.  In typical fashion, because William was in bed with her and there wasn’t enough room for the both of them, Aberdeen found herself semi-on top of him, her head on his chest and hair spread out everywhere; an arm draped across his torso.  As she began to come to her senses, she took a deep breath and could smell him.  He still smelled so good.  So manly.  And then, she realized his one arm was hugging her body against his, and his other lay directly on top of hers that was draped across his body, keeping it there.

She sighed contently.  

He was so big, so snuggly, so warm.  Of all the people she’d snuggled up against in her short lifetime, William was easily the best.  His body was like her own personal heater, and in the dead of winter, it was much appreciated.  She’d always known he was big – big and thick and strong – but feeling him under her now was so much different.  She’d almost forgotten what he felt like, but she could never truly forget something like that.  

When she moved slightly, mostly to stretch, she realized one of his thighs was between her legs.  God, they were so fucking thick.  Thick and strong, just like the rest of him.  She moaned slightly, the feeling of their bare legs together really waking her up now.  Before she knew what she was doing, before her brain could tell her body not to physically react to such a specimen of a body being in such close proximity to her, she moved again, rubbing her core against his thigh.  It felt good.  Of course it felt good.  She had been denying herself the pleasure she knew William Nylander could give her for six months now (besides their kisses), and if she wasn’t dangerously close to breaking every known rule, parameter, and boundary she gave herself when she got the job, then she was now.  So close.  Dangerously close.

She rubbed her core against his thigh again.

And again.

And again.

He began to wake up, shifting slightly at the feeling of the friction of her against him.  He moaned at the feeling and rubbed his eyes before opening them, and when he did their eyes met, drowsy and barely open but still looking at one another.  “Minskatt?”

Aberdeen looked into his blue eyes.  She couldn’t hold back anymore; couldn’t deny it anymore.  

She was going to do it.

She pushed herself up slightly, coming face to face with him, and began kissing him.  No hesitation.  No uncertainty.  She knew she wanted to do it.  That she had to do it.  That kissing William was as important to her right now as breathing.  That kissing William continuously – not just one little peck, not just a standard kiss – was what she needed.  That feeling the scruff on his face along her fingers was integral to her well-being.  That grinding against his thigh again, causing him to moan in her mouth before she got on top of him and straddled him, was what she needed to survive.  

She felt his hands squeezing her thighs, trying to feel every inch of exposed skin on her body as they wandered underneath her pajama shorts, then underneath her shirt, where he took sweet time inching higher and higher towards her breasts.  He squeezed them in his hands gently, massaging them and pinching her nipples, causing her to squirm.  She knew she didn’t have an ample set to worth with, but William didn’t seem to mind.  He didn’t seem to mind because when Aberdeen grabbed the hem of her shirt and pulled it over her head, he looked at her exposed chest like it was the first pair of boobs he’d seen in his life.  

Aberdeen hesitated only slightly after she saw the look on his face.  “Willy?” she breathed out.

“Fuck, Aberdeen,” he whispered in some sort of apparently disbelief – a disbelief that this was actually happening.  That she was the one to kiss him.  That she was the one to take off her top.  It wasn’t even the first time he’d seen her exposed chest, but it still felt like the first time to him.

Before she knew it, he’d wrapped his arms around her and flipped her onto her back, hovering over her with his big, thick body as he kissed and licked his way down her neck and towards her breasts.  He took a nipple in his mouth, flicking his tongue and making her arch her back.  She tried to catch her breath as she got used to feeling his mouth and tongue on her breasts.  He knew exactly what he was doing, and he knew exactly what to do to set her off, leaving her a writhing, moaning mess in her own bed.

Then she felt where his hand was.

She flinched at his touch on her hot core, but so desperately wanted more.  After that initial flinch, she practically grinded herself onto his hand.  “It’s so hot,” William mumbled before he kissed a trail to her other breast.  “So wet already.”

“Will—” Aberdeen could barely get out once she felt William’s tongue on her other breast.  “Will, please—”

“Is that okay?”

“Yes,” she nodded her head as he teased her some more.  “Ta—Take them off.”

He did as he was told, his mouth leaving her breast so he could sit back slightly on his knees, hook his fingers into the waistband of her shorts, and pull them off slooooowly, revealing every inch of exposed skin on her body.  He could see her chest rising and falling dramatically as he let the shorts drop on the floor.  “You okay, minskatt?”

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She leaned forward so she could kiss him again, their hands exploring each other’s bodies – William’s hands gripping her thighs or breasts or teasing her hot core some more; Aberdeen’s hands gliding along the muscles on his abs and chest and shoulders before scratching down his back to the waistband of his boxer briefs.  

She tugged on them.

“Aberdeen—”

“Condoms are in the same place,” she whispered quickly.

“Aberdeen, are you sure—”

“Yes.  Yes yes yes,” she repeated, nodding fervently.  

William opened the drawer on her bedside table, grabbing at a packet.  He ripped off the packaging and helped her push his boxers down before sitting back.  Aberdeen helped him slide it on, much like the first time.  When she lay back down, William moved to loom over her.  

William and Aberdeen looked each other in the eye as he guided himself near her entrance.  When Aberdeen could feel him, she let out a shaky, excited breath.  “Willy…”

“Yes, minskatt?”

“Go slow.”

William nodded.  He began to push himself into her, and as he did, he saw her eyes close to bask in the feeling of him filling her up.  He did the same, as it brought back all the memories from that fateful night six months ago, when they were in the exact same position as they were now.  He remembered everything so vividly, but somehow, this all felt brand new.  He remembered how good it felt, but simultaneously had never felt anything as amazing before.  

He went slow.

He could feel her nails dig into his shoulder blades and a small gasp of breath escape her as he bottomed out.  He kissed her lips and the tip of her nose and back to her lips.  “You okay?” he asked, his hair falling in between their faces.

Aberdeen nodded her head.  She bought one hand between them and pushed his hair back tenderly so she could see his face.  “Yeah,” she nodded.

“You sure?”

“Yeah,” she repeated, letting out another breath as she felt him pull out slightly before pushing back in.  “I’d almost forgotten how good you feel inside me.”

“You’re perfect, Aberdeen,” he responded immediately after.  He meant it in every sense of the word, because to him, she was.  Plus, if she thought he felt good, he has some news for her about what she felt like.  “God, you’re fucking perfect.”

He dipped down to kiss her again as he began moving in and out of her slowly.  Aberdeen moved her hips in tune with his, and soon, all she felt was pleasure.  Despite what was happening, they couldn’t keep their eyes off each other, looks mixed with lust, love, desire, adoration, longing, and of course, the pining they’d been doing since that day they reunited in the elevator being exchanged between them.  It had all led to this moment, this moment of pure, built up passion.

“Willy…f…fuck,” she whispered.  “You feel so good, Willy.”

She watched as some of his hair feel in between them again, blocking his eyes.  She brought a hand to push it back tenderly.  They looked at each other for a moment before William said the words.  “I love you, Aberdeen.”

She looked for a lie in his eyes.  Any hint of a lie.  A lie she found in Zane’s eyes.  A lie she found in Corey’s eyes.  A lie she found in any other boy’s eyes that she’d known.  But she couldn’t find it.  Not even the smallest hint.  Nothing.  And because of that, and because of the moment, she said the words too.  “I love you, William.”

He kissed her, big and wet and sloppy and full of desire and want, and she kissed him back with equal amounts of desire and want, and when he began to move in and out of her quicker, and when she arched her back into his body, she knew was close, that they were both close, and that they wouldn’t last much longer.  

“Willy—”

“Aberdeen—Aberdeen I—”

“Cum with me Willy.  Cum with me.”

And they did.  It hit them all at once, the wave of pleasure as Aberdeen’s walls tightened around William’s pulsating cock, and they rode it out for as long as they could before William collapsed on top of her, the both of them catching their breath and coming back down to reality.  As they lay in her bed together, with William still inside her, the gravity of the situation didn’t need to hit them – they knew what they’d just done.  They knew it broke every boundary and was against every rule in the book.  But they didn’t care.  William didn’t care.  Aberdeen didn’t care.  All that mattered was that they shared that moment of pure bliss together.  

William rolled onto his back and took off the condom, tying it before throwing it in the garbage near her bed.  When he finished, he turned towards Aberdeen and they intertwined their limbs and bodies, drifting off to sleep again in each other’s arms.

***

The next time Aberdeen woke up, it was because she’d heard the front door slam shut and the sound of footsteps throughout the apartment.  It meant Kasha was home, which also meant it was later in the morning than when she and William had first woken up and…well…

She shuddered.

As she did, she felt William’s body beside hers in her bed, spooning her from behind.  Still naked from their rendezvous earlier, she could feel his cock against her as the hand of the arm that draped over her body cupped one of her breasts.  His face was nestled into the crook of her neck.  She didn’t want to move – she would have been perfectly content to stay in bed with him all day – but she knew they’d have to get up eventually.  And more than that, they’d have to put on clothes before they went out there.  

“Willy?” she whispered softly, hoping he’d hear.

“Hmmm minskatt?” he mumbled against her skin.  “Was that Kasha?” he asked.

“Yeah.  And probably Evan,” she said.  “We should get up.”

He peeled himself away from her body slowly, and she rolled from her side to her back so she could look up at him.  He looked down at her, still naked for him.  She smiled up at him and caressed his cheek, his stubble scratching her skin.  A piece of hair fell in front of his face, and she pushed it back, making it a habit now.  “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Do you regret what happened?” she asked.

“Absolutely not.  No,” he replied automatically, shaking his head.  “Do you?”

“No,” she responded automatically as well.  “I don’t regret any of it at all,” she ran her thumb along his lips.  “But nobody can know.  We can’t tell a soul.”

William nodded his head.  In any other circumstance, if he had landed a girl as amazing as Aberdeen, he would be practically bragging to everybody about how lucky he was.  But things didn’t work out that way, and everything was complicated.  “Nobody will know,” he said in agreement.  

“No Brendan,” she began.

“That’s a given.”

“No Kappy,” she continued.

“No Kappy,” he agreed.  Kasperi didn’t even know about the first time they’d slept together, so it would be no problem.  None of the guys did.  They all thought he just had a harmless crush.  “No Kasha.”

Aberdeen bit her lip.  “No Kasha,” she nodded her head.  She knew she’d be able to make up a good story when they met each other outside her door.  She knew what she had to do next.  It would have to hurt them both.  “No Alex.”

William nodded slightly.  It would be hard not to tell his brother, but he knew he couldn’t.  It was probably one of the few secrets he would keep from Alex.  He knew he had to say the same.  “No Siena.”

Aberdeen nodded.  It would be the hardest thing she’d have to do.  “Our secret only,” she whispered.

“Our secret only,” he repeated, leaning down to give her a quick kiss.  “We can do it, minskatt.”

“I know we can,” she said, kissing him again.  It went against everything she believed in, but she didn’t care anymore.  She only had so much willpower to reject him.  Now that they’d done what they’d done, and agreed to what they agreed to, there was no going back.  She’d have to lie to the people she loved and respected most in her life.  She’d have to lie to everyone she knew – her parents, her sister, her friends, her co-workers.  

She’d have to lie to Brendan.  

They got out of bed slowly, with William putting his boxers back on and Aberdeen throwing on her pajama shorts again and a crew neck sweater.  She looked over at William and saw him searching for his dress shirt, crinkled on the floor.  She threw one of her oversized University of Toronto hoodies at him.  He laughed when he realized what it was, pulling it over his head.  It fit a bit snug, but it worked.

The second Aberdeen opened her bedroom door, she heard the shower from Kasha’s ensuite turn on.  She was happy – it gave her time to get breakfast started, to spend a little bit more of alone time with William, and to think of an excuse as to why William slept over last night.  Not like this was the first time he slept over in the past four weeks.

She still couldn’t believe what this had become.

After washing her face quickly, she and William made their way into the kitchen, Aberdeen grabbing some pancake mix out of the cupboard.  She grabbed some blueberries from the fridge too, putting them near the sink to wash them.  As she began to pour the pancake mix into a bowl, she felt William come up behind her, pressing himself against her back as he wrapped his arms around her waist.

“Aberdeen?” his voice was soft, and suddenly sounded very nervous.  

“Willy?”

“I meant what I said earlier,” he said.

She was confused.  “About not telling anybody?”

“No.  Earlier,” he gave her another hint.  When she didn’t respond, he knew he’d have to say it again.  “That I love you, minskatt.”

Oh.  That.  It was said so passionately during them having sex that it felt like it was part of the experience.  That it was completely natural and easy for them to say to each other, despite not officially being together, despite not even dating, despite Aberdeen trying to convince herself for months that she didn’t like him, despite William trying everything to make her realize otherwise.  

“I know it was in the heat of the moment,” his words interrupted her thoughts.  They sounded so nervous and apprehensive.  “But I meant it.  I mean…I know.  And I know that you said it back, but you don’t have to if you don’t want to.  Or if you’re not sure or whatever.  I just want you to know that.  I won’t care.  You can say it whenever you want.  I just know that I do.”

Aberdeen turned around.  She wrapped her arms around his broad shoulders, now wearing one of her hoodies, and stood on her tip-toes to kiss him.  She said the only words she could say to him.  The only words that, despite every boundary, despite every rule, despite every thought, despite everything she knew about herself, despite everything she thought she knew about herself, she knew were true.  

“I love you too, William.”