#well technically there's only one. hush just finish the tags

[burnt-pygmalion]

i will grow away from this.

[yannawayne]

i. what's up danger?

SYNOPSIS: "Alright, let's do this one last time. My name is Y/N Kyle. I was bitten by a radioactive spider, And I've been the one and only Spidey in Gotham. I’m pretty sure you know the rest." PAIRING: Older! Damian Wayne/Fem! Reader TAGS: Established relationship, Mild sexual jokes, Making out, Blood, Explosions, Mentions of Child Abuse, Good Aunt-Mom Selina Kyle AO3: yenwayne SERIES LINK: gotham's only spidey

 NEXT ->

༻⊰───⋅

“Uh, good morning?” you offered weakly, trying to give a casual shrug despite the mess around you. “Mom, this might sound insane. But, I think I might have accidentally discovered superpowers.”

Selina stared at you, blinking slowly as she processed the scene before her. Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hold back a laugh or perhaps some form of disbelief.

“Accidentally discovered superpowers?” she echoed. “I think you've been around your boyfriend and his family too much. Baby—”

Before she could finish, your hand instinctively reached out. With a flick of your wrist, a web shot from your fingers and latched onto the door behind her. In a heartbeat, the door was yanked from its hinges, splintering as it flew across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud.

Selina’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the now doorless doorway. She blinked at the empty space where the door had once been.

“Well,” she said, “I guess that’s one way to explain things.”

༻⊰───⋅

Saturday, 9:02 PM - Catwoman’s Apartment, Gotham City.

SELINA'S DEFT FINGERS SLID over the fabric of the dress, adjusting and smoothing it until it drapes perfectly over your figure. The elegant emerald gown shimmered softly under the dim apartment lights, the material flowing luxuriously against your skin.

"You didn’t steal this, did you?" you murmur, adjusting the necklace that rests delicately around your neck. "I’d rather not end up in jail tonight."

"The dress? No, it’s one of my old ones," Selina scoffed, turning away and handing you a pair of black heels. "But if anyone asks about the necklace, just say it’s a family heirloom. Which, technically, it is."

You shot her a pointed look. She rolled her eyes with a smirk.

"Oh, hush. I haven’t stolen anything in... at least a month," she drawled.

"A month, wow! That’s a new record," you teased, slipping into the heels.

Selina laughed and shook her head. "Don’t get too comfortable. Just because I’m on a hiatus doesn’t mean I’ve gone straight."

"Well, let’s hope your hiatus lasts at least through tonight," you winced.

She smirked, giving you a once-over. "Trust me, darling, tonight is all about you."

You were about to respond when Selina suddenly snapped her fingers.

“Before I forget...” she said, reaching into one of her drawers. She pulled out a thigh strap and wrapped the leather around your leg, fastening it securely. 

Then, she slid one of her blades into the strap. You rolled your eyes but accepted the gesture with a resigned nod. It was Gotham, after all—being prepared was always a need.

“Damian’s got me covered tonight,” you say, trying to reassure her. “You don’t have to worry so much.”

Selina paused, her hands still on the thigh strap, and gave you a skeptical look. “Sweetheart, I worry about you all the time. It’s not that I don’t trust Damian—he’s solid. But Gotham? That’s a different story. Where those Bats go, trouble’s sure to follow.”

You chuckled, adjusting the strap to make sure it was secure. “We’ll manage, mom.”

Selina Kyle might not have been your biological mother, but she became your mother the moment you were placed in her arms years ago. In that instant, the blood that bound you was inconsequential compared to the unspoken promise she made to protect you.

To Selina, you were her child. Not because of any legal ties or shared genetics, but because she chose to be your mother every single day.

And to you, Selina was more than just an aunt. She was the lifeline who stepped in when everything else had crumbled around you.

Selina and Maggie, your biological mother, had both grown up in a fractured family. Their father was a vicious drunkard. Their mother, Maria, was a ghost in their lives—emotionally absent and detached. 

When Maria died, the world turned colder. The sisters were torn apart: Maggie was adopted by a warm, loving family, while Selina was abandoned to the unforgiving grip of Gotham’s orphanages. Those grim streets, steeped in shadows and danger, carved her into Catwoman.

But darkness has a way of creeping back into the light, no matter how hard you try to keep it at bay. Maggie, who had managed to build a life of stability and warmth, became a target for the shadows of Catwoman’s past. 

Black Mask.

Kidnapped, tortured, and left to die, Maggie was nothing but a ghost by the time the attack was done. Her husband was slain in the carnage, and the only remnant of their family was you— barely a toddler, too young to grasp the gravity of your loss but old enough to feel its weight.

With no other family to turn to, she took you in, binding her fate to yours and vowing to protect you from a world that had already taken so much from both of you.

Her life wasn’t easy. She was young, barely in her twenties, struggling to make ends meet in one of Gotham’s most unforgiving neighborhoods. The meager jobs she managed to scrape together were barely enough to cover the rent, let alone the needs of a growing child.

Selina's decision to take up the mantle of Catwoman was never about the thrill of the heist or the allure of jewels; it was about survival—yours and hers. Gotham demanded a price, and she chose to pay it herself, risking her life each time she donned the suit to give you a chance at something better.

You grew up with a keen sense of the world, your intelligence uncovering bits and pieces of her double life. The mysterious disappearances, the luxurious items that mysteriously appeared—each clue painted a picture that you slowly began to understand.

When the time came for the truth to be revealed, it wasn’t easy

Selina’s hand glided across her vanity, fingers brushing over the cool surface before settling on a sleek black clutch. With a flick of her wrist, she turned and handed it to you.

You accepted it with a gleam in your eye, stepping back as you held it close. A playful twirl sent the emerald fabric of your gown swirling around you, catching the light in a way that made it shimmer. 

“Well? What do you think?”

Selina’s stern look melted away like ice under a warming sun. Her gaze swept over your outfit, absorbing the delicate neckline, the tailored fit around your waist, and the gown’s fluid cascade to the floor. 

In this small, quiet moment, the weight of the world seemed to lift. For just a heartbeat, she allowed herself to pretend that the two of you were simply a normal mother and daughter, sharing a simple, beautiful moment together.

“You’ve always had a way of making everything around you look better,” she purred. “You’re going to knock the whole school off their feet. Damian’s going to need a crowbar to keep the other guys away.”

Selina reached out to adjust the straps on your dress, her touch precise and caring. Her fingers brushed a stray strand of hair from your face, the movement as gentle as a whisper.

“Just remember, darling,” she spoke slowly, “it never hurts to stay safe.”

Ruby-red manicured nails tapped your cheek as she straightened up, a knowing look in her eyes.

Pause. Your eyes widened as you caught the hint of her meaning. “You’re not saying I—”

“I was at that age,” she interrupted with a mock-serious tone. “I’m just saying you should be prepared. Especially with the way that boy looks at you like you’re the only person in the room. You’ve got him wrapped around your finger. Make sure he wraps something else too.”

A flush of embarrassment rose to your cheeks. You sputtered and fumbled with the clutch in your hand. “Mom! What the hell?! I think that’s enough advice for one night!”

BEEP!

Just as Selina was about to respond, a car horn blared from outside, slicing through the evening’s quiet. Both of you turned towards the window, where a Porsche 911 emerged from the darkness. It looked painfully out of place against the backdrop of your neighborhood—cracked sidewalks strewn with trash, graffiti-streaked walls, and the occasional flickering streetlamp battling the encroaching shadows.

“Looks like your chariot awaits,” Selina said, her hands sliding up your shoulders as she gently nudged you toward the door. “Have a great time, but keep your wits about you. Gotham’s never as calm as it seems.”

With one final hug, you stepped out of the apartment and descended the narrow, dimly lit staircase. As you reached the bottom, you emerged into the cool night air, where Damian stood by his car parked right under a street lamp.

He was impeccably dressed in a deep black suit that seemed to swallow the surrounding light, giving him an almost smoky allure. An emerald button-up shirt peeked from beneath the jacket, its rich hue a perfect match for the striking color of your dress. 

Damian’s smoldering gaze warmed as he saw you approaching, a small, approving smile curling at the corners of his lips. He lifted two fingers in a beckoning motion, and though you rolled your eyes, you stepped forward.

“Beloved,” he greeted, extending a hand to you. “You look stunning.”

“Hi, handsome,” you grinned, taking his hand and stepping closer to press a gentle kiss against his lips. Damian responded with a soft hum, his arm slipping around your shoulders as he tilted his head slightly. The kiss deepened just enough to make the moment linger, leaving a warmth that held between you. 

Just as you were about to lose yourself completely, Selina’s voice sliced through the night air. 

“You’re going to be late!”

Damian pulled away from you so abruptly that it looked as if he’d been yanked back by an invisible force. His face flushed a patchy red, a blend of embarrassment and irritation. He shot a sidelong glance at Selina, his eyes quickly shifting back to you.

Damian huffs, releasing a sharp exhale through his teeth. “Shall we go?”

The click of the car door echoed as Damian opened it for you, his lips twisting into a scowl. You settled into the plush passenger seat, the soft fabric of your gown rustling as Damian carefully lifted it to prevent any creases. 

While you adjusted yourself in the seat, you glanced back and waved at Selina, her silhouette framed against the windows. A snort escaped you as you noticed the deadpan look Damian shot in her direction.

Damian was always somewhat awkward around Selina. As Robin, his view of Catwoman was clear-cut—she was a criminal to be dealt with. And yet, he still held a deep respect for her as your mother.

Once he settled into the driver’s seat and started the engine, the car roared to life with a smooth, powerful purr. The sleek vehicle glided down the streets with impressive speed, Damian navigating through traffic with a confidence that bordered on recklessness. 

As he shifted gears, the radio flicked on, filling the car with a soft, pulsing beat.

This may be the night that my dreams might let me know All the stars are closer All the stars are closer All the stars are closer This may be the night that my dreams might let me know

Tilting your head back into the seat, your hair bunching around your shoulders, your thoughts drifted to the first time Damian took you for a drive. Both of you had been sixteen then, and his aggressive maneuvering had left you gripping the seat, your heart racing as if you were in a high-speed chase. Now, though, the thrill was familiar, adrenaline thrumming steadily in your blood.

The ride was brief but exhilarating, and soon the car pulled into the school’s parking lot. Sleek cars and limousines lined the lot, each more extravagant than the last. Students and their dates, dressed in their finest formal wear, mingled and laughed, making their way toward the entrance.

Stepping out of the car, the crisp night air greeted you like a refreshing embrace, carrying the delicate scent of fresh flowers and the faint strains of classical music wafting from the entrance. The soft glow of string lights and lanterns illuminated the path ahead, casting a warm, golden hue over the scene. Damian drew you close, his arm slipping around your waist as you walked together.

The ballroom was stunningly elegant. 

Crystal chandeliers hung from the high ceiling, their shimmering prisms scattering colorful reflections across the polished marble floor. Tables draped in white linens, adorned with fresh roses and flickering candles, lined the room. The dance floor gleamed under the ambient light, already alive with couples swaying gracefully to the gentle strains of Franz Liszt. 

The whole scene practically screamed old money.

You were going to die.

You’d never quite get used to events like these. Over the years, you’d been to your fair share of galas and charity balls, mostly because of your relationship with Damian and that brief, awkward phase when Selina was involved with Bruce.  

Each time, you had a knack for stumbling through social minefields, unintentionally insulting high-profile guests or spilling wine on someone’s multimillion-dollar gown And, without fail, the next day’s press would seize the opportunity to spotlight you and your social faux pas.

Gotham Academy, with its glossy veneer and elite crowd, was just another arena 

It was a breeding ground for rich fucks, each one more insufferable than the last. The halls echoed with the chatter of kids who had everything handed to them, their lives a far cry from yours. The only reason you’d managed to slip through those gilded gates was thanks to the Martha-Wayne scholarship. Without it, you’d still be stuck in the middle of nowhere with your mother, scraping by on whatever scraps you could find.

“Ya amar, are you going to keep staring at the floor? Or may I have the honor of requesting a dance?”

Damian’s voice cut through your self-deprecating spiral as he snapped his fingers in front of your eyes.

Blinking up at him, you pursed your lips. “I don’t know... this is a really interesting floor.”

Damian raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, really? Pray tell, what makes it so interesting that you’d rather stand here instead of dancing with me?”

“I don’t know. I could stare at it all night,” you hummed, crossing your arms. “Plus, we’ve got to keep our thing going, you know? I can't give in that easily.”

“Our thing? What thing?” Damian blinked.

“The thing where we act like we hate each other but still want each other carnally,” you said, throwing your head back as you laughed.

"Tt," Damian deadpanned, reaching out to grab you by the waist. He lifted you off the ground, your feet barely brushing the polished marble beneath. You wrapped an arm around his neck and giggled, holding on as he carried you toward the center of the ballroom.

“You never miss an opportunity to mortify me, do you?” Damian scolded, gently setting you back down on the floor. Both of you assumed a waltz stance, your hands finding their places on each other’s shoulders and waist.

“I think I just enjoy keeping you on your toes,” you replied with a grin, swaying gracefully with him as the music enveloped you.

Damian's lips curved into a wry smile, despite his grumbling. "You know how much I despise these games you play, Cat."

“Oh? Cat?” you laughed, the rich, velvety fabric of your dress brushing against Damian’s sleek suit as you danced. “Are we going for the classic Batman and Catwoman trope here? Because once Selina retires, I could always take up the mantle of the next Catwoman.”

Damian’s smile dropped, replaced by a look of exasperation. “Please do not. I fear what will become of you then."

“Why not?” you asked, batting your lashes coyly. “Does the idea of me as Catwoman not thrill you?”

Damian made a noncommittal sound, his ears tinged with red as he averted his gaze.

“Don’t get shy on me,” you said with a grin, your voice dropping to a teasing purr. Your hand glided up his jaw, your touch lingering just enough to be felt.

A shadow of something intense flickered in the depths of his jade-green eyes. Damian’s grip on your waist tightened slightly, his gaze narrowing into a mock glare that barely concealed the warmth beneath.

“I guess I would not... be entirely opposed to that idea,” he muttered.

He led you into a slow dance, his movements fluid and graceful, reminiscent of those quiet, moonlit nights in his manor’s kitchen. You recalled late evenings when the room was bathed in the soft, silvery glow of moonlight streaming through the windows. On those nights, the world outside felt far away, leaving just the two of you swaying gently to the soft strains of music playing from his phone’s speakers.

It was moments like these that peeled away his walls. In the soft glow of the ballroom lights, the tender, affectionate side of him emerged—like a rare flower blooming in the quiet of twilight. Each layer revealed a deeper, more intimate part of him, offering you a special kind of attention that made every shared glance and touch feel intimate.

“This crazy, almost maddening attraction I have for you makes me feel like I want to stab myself,” Damian murmured as he spun you around, the fabric of your dress flared out like a blooming flower at his feet.

“Wow, you really have a way with words,” you said with a smile. “Admit it—you love every second of it, don’t you?”

Damian’s lips curled into a smirk.

“Perhaps,” he conceded. He drew you back into his embrace as he guided you across the dance floor, your bodies moved in perfect harmony, like two pieces fitting together in a delicate puzzle.

The world around you seemed to blur into a gentle haze of soft music and swirling lights. Damian’s gaze, however, remained sharp and vigilant.

“I don’t like how they’re staring at you,” he murmured, his green eyes narrowing as they scanned the crowd. His voice carried the familiar edge of possessiveness. “Perhaps they need a reminder of whom you belong to.”

“Damian, no—”

Before you could protest, Damian leaned in, closing the distance between you with a smooth turn of his head. The kiss was tender yet heated, his teeth gently tugging at your bottom lip.

Anyone who glanced your way would see Damian Thomas Wayne with his lips pressed against yours, making it clear who he was with. It wasn’t the first time he’d been so overt—there was that incident when you both ended up in detention because he couldn’t keep his hands off you by your locker.

You whined softly, trying to pull away, a thin strand of saliva connecting your lips in a delicate, glistening thread. “We’re in public—”

“Shut up,” he murmured against your lips, his voice rough yet tender, before diving back in. The breath you had been holding escaped in a slow, shuddering sigh, mingling with his as he drew you closer, his hands firmly cupping your hips.

Damian seemed to swallow every sweet sound you made, chuckling softly as you mumbled curses against his lips, your grip on his tie tightening. The world around you blurred into insignificance, leaving just the two of you enveloped in a bubble of intense sensation. Your breaths came in ragged bursts, eyes fluttering open and then closing again, lost in the heat of the moment. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathless and flushed, the lingering electric buzz of the kiss still crackling in the air between you.

Damian and you locked eyes, his face blank until a shit-eating grin slowly spread across his face.

"I hate you so much," you scowled. “You’re impossible, Damian Wayne.”

“Perhaps,” he murmured, his voice a low, teasing whisper. He leaned in, using your own words against you. “Admit it—you love every second of it, don’t you?”

Before you could respond, he tilted your chin up, his lips brushing lightly against yours as he whispered, “Let them see. They’ll just have to get used to the sight.”

The kiss was softer this time, more tender, as you swayed gently against him, savoring the moment of calm.

BOOM.

Without warning, the tranquility was shattered by a deafening explosion. 

The sound of shattering glass and a violent burst of energy tore through the ballroom, turning the once elegant space into a scene of utter chaos. Crystal chandeliers swung erratically from the ceiling, their light flickering in disorienting patterns as debris rained down like confetti. The room erupted into a frenzy of screams and frantic movement as everyone scrambled for cover.

“Holy shit!” you gasped, your voice barely piercing through the screams and destruction.

CREAK.

A sudden, ominous groan echoed through the room, drawing your gaze upward. The chandelier, swaying precariously, seemed to shudder as its support gave way. Then, with a heart-stopping creak, the massive fixture began to fall. 

Without a moment’s hesitation, Damian’s hand shot out, grabbing your arm with a firm grip. 

“Move!”

You scrambled to keep up with his rapid pace, but your long gown snagged on the edge of a flipped table, sending you sprawling to the floor with a jarring thud. Your hand slipped from his grip, and Damian, realizing you were no longer beside him, turned back in a surge of panic.

With no time to guide you gently to safety, he yanked you up from the floor. He pulled you both behind the overturned table, using it as a makeshift barricade.

The chandelier crashed down with a thunderous roar, sending shards of glass, splintered wood, and shattered fragments spiraling through the air. As the debris rained down, you screamed and reached out desperately for Damian. Without hesitation, he rushed to your side, enveloping you in his arms. He pulled you close, pressing your face into his chest and shielding you from the rain of debris with his body.

Finally, the noise of destruction faded into a heavy silence. Damian lifted his head slightly, peering down at you.

“Are you okay?” he panted, voice edged with worry.

Shaken up, you heaved and shook your head vehemently, unable to find the words through your trembling fear.

“What the fuck was that?” 

"I don't have a single clue," Damian shrugged, eyes still scanning the room as he peeked over the edge of the table.

From the smoke emerged a middle-aged man, suspended in the air by his mechanical arms—sleek, metallic, and bristling with a variety of intimidating gadgets. The arms whirred and slashed through the air with deadly force, carving through the walls and sending more chunks of debris down.

“You think you can just throw away everything I’ve built?” the man roared. “This school, this place, it’s all been a mockery of my work, my life! I’ve sacrificed everything for this and you’ve repaid me with nothing but scorn!”

Damian cursed under his breath. He settled back down, biting off the fingertip of his glove and pulling it off with a grunt. Pulling up his sleeve, he tapped an emergency button on his wrist, activating a silent alert to his family.

“We have to go,” Damian whispered. He shrugged off his suit jacket and wrapped you in the fabric, pulling you close. He lifted you effortlessly, cradling you in his arms as he sprinted through the chaos.

He carried you swiftly through the building’s hallways, the shrill sound of distant alarms and the echo of your hurried footsteps reverberating off the walls. When you finally reached a safer location, he paused briefly, his sharp eyes scanning the area for any further threats.

“I’ll be okay,” you said, your voice trembling as he gently set you down. You gripped his hands tightly, trying to steady your breath. “Do—do you have your suit?”

“It’s in the car,” Damian grumbled, frustration evident in his voice as he ran his thumb over your knuckles.

“I’ll stay here and start helping with evacuations,” you say, already moving to slip out of your heels, the shoes discarded onto the floor.

Damian opened his mouth to protest, but you cut him off, shaking your head firmly.

“No,” you said firmly, your scowl sharpening. “None of this again. I make my own decisions.”

Damian’s expression hardened. “You’re not a trained fighter. You’re not supposed to be in harm’s way.”

"It's just evacuations. I’m not going to be fighting," you met his gaze as you stood up straight again. “And I’m not going to stand by while others are in danger.”

“Fine,” he said begrudgingly, “but stay hidden and keep away from the villain.”

“I know,” you said softly, pressing a quick kiss to his lips. You met his gaze lovingly before turning to re-enter the chaos. The corridors were now a frenzy of frantic students and faculty, desperately trying to evacuate.

Damian shot you one last look before sprinting back toward the parking lot.

You slipped back into the ballroom, heart pounding in your chest. The smoke swirled around you, as decor and debris lay strewn across the floor. Amid the chaos, you spotted a girl trapped beneath a toppled table, her muffled cries barely reaching your ears. Clutching your dress in your hands to avoid tripping, you hurried over to her.

“Hey, we need to move!” you called out, shoving aside the debris and wrestling with the heavy wood. With a determined push, you finally freed her from the wreckage. She wobbled as she stood, but you swiftly caught her, your grip steady and reassuring. “You’re okay now. Let’s get out of here.”

“Where’s everyone else?” she asked, her voice trembling.

“Everyone’s heading for the exits. We need to move quickly,” you replied, guiding her toward the nearest emergency exit. The sounds of the villain’s rampage echoed through the room, punctuated by the distant wail of sirens.

Once the girl was able to get back on her feet and run on her own, you rushed to assist another group, directing them towards the exits and making sure they stayed calm.

SWISH.

There was a sudden, sharp slice, and you snapped your head back toward the ballroom. Damian had reappeared, now clad in his suit.

“Robin?!”

With a decisive, diagonal slash, his katana cleaved through one of the villain’s mechanical arms. The blade sliced through the metal with a sharp, resonant hiss, and the arm’s severed end burst into a cascade of dazzling sparks. Pieces of twisted metal flew through the air like shrapnel, their jagged edges catching the erratic light from the shattered chandeliers.

His cape, a deep, blood-red shroud, billowed behind him like a dark wave, trailing in his wake as he moved. The clash of his katana against the villain’s mechanical arms echoed through the room, each strike a precise blur of red and black. 

Amidst the fight, your eyes were drawn to a figure huddled in the far corner. The student, paralyzed with fear, was frozen in place, eyes wide and fixed on the destruction unfolding before them.

Without a second thought, you sprinted towards them, nimbly navigating through the scattered debris and overturned tables. As you reached the student, you crouched beside them and gently placed a reassuring hand on their shoulder.

“Hey, it’s going to be okay. Alright? We’re going to get through this, but you need to move—now!” 

The student’s terrified eyes flickered with a glimmer of hope as they slowly began to rise with your help. Their breath came in shallow, panicked gasps, each exhale mingling with the smoky haze that filled the air. You grunted, your muscles straining as you slipped your arms beneath their shoulders, lifting them to their feet.

"Move!" you urged, guiding the student toward the doors. Their feet stumbled over the debris, but you kept a firm grip on their arm, pulling them along through the chaos. As you hurriedly navigated the wreckage-strewn floor, you felt a strange tingling sensation creeping up your leg.

It started as a subtle prickle, almost like static electricity, but quickly grew into an unsettling sensation that made your skin crawl. You glanced down, trying to pinpoint the source, but the shifting shadows and debris obscured your view. 

The legs of a spider, sleek and shadowy, crawled up the fabric of your emerald dress. Its tiny, pulsating body was nearly camouflaged against the rich material, and its eight eyes glinted with an eerie green glow, peering out from the shadows of the gown. 

Oblivious to its presence, you continued leading the student toward the safer part of the ballroom, focused on ensuring their escape.

The spider’s glow intensified, its eerie green light pulsating with an ominous rhythm as it crawled up your arm. Just as you pushed the student to safety, a sharp, burning sensation erupted where the spider sank its fangs deep into your skin. A piercing scream erupted from your lips.  The searing pain surged through your body, radiating outwards from the bite like a fiery wave. In a frantic, instinctive reaction, you slapped at your bicep, your nails digging into the skin. 

Panicked, Damian’s head snapped in your direction, eyes widening in alarm as he spotted you writhing in pain. In his moment of distraction, a metal arm swung violently towards him. The arm connected with a sickening thud against his side, the force of the impact sending him hurtling through the air. 

Damian crashed into a wall with a bone-jarring slam and his body crumpled to the ground, the force of the impact visibly shaking him. He lay there, gasping for breath, spit and blood spilling from his chin.

Groaning, he raised his head, feeling the crack in his mask press against his face. Strands of dark hair fell over his single exposed eye, partially obscuring his vision. Squinting through the haze of pain, he cursed under his breath as he saw the villain advancing toward you.

The spider's venom surged through your veins, a wave of searing, unbearable pain radiating from the bite. You stumbled and collapsed to the floor, struggling to stay upright. Pain tore through you as you crawled toward a nearby pillar, your fingers clawing weakly at the surface

Through the haze of your deteriorating vision and the throbbing fog that clouded your mind, you could barely make out the figure of the villain advancing toward you. His mechanical arms whirred with a menacing hum, their sharp, glinting edges catching the dim light of the ruined ballroom.

The last thing you saw before darkness swallowed you was a blur of red.

With a snarl, Damian lunged, his katana slicing through the air with deadly intent. The blade crashed into the villain's mechanical arm, the impact resonating like a gunshot. Sparks exploded from the severed joint, showering the room in a cascade of crackling light as the villain staggered, his metal limbs convulsing with malfunction.

Sliding across the debris-strewn floor, Damian executed a perfect skid, coming to a stop on his knees. He positioned himself between you and the advancing threat, his katana held in a poised, defensive stance.

“Is this all you’ve got?” Damian seethes. “A pathetic tantrum because your grandiose plans fell apart? You’re nothing more than a washed-up has-been clinging to your failures.” 

“You think you know what it’s like to sacrifice everything? To watch your life's work crumble? You have no idea what I’ve lost! My research was going to change the world!”

The villain’s mechanical arms flared up in response, their whirring growing louder as he prepared to strike again. Just as an arm was about to land, the piercing whir of a batarang sliced through the air. It struck the villain’s mechanical arm with precision, a bright explosion erupting from the impact. Damian grunted as he braced himself, holding firm against the shockwave, his muscles straining to keep steady. One hand instinctively dropped to your head, shielding you from the force. 

The villain recoiled in surprise, momentarily disoriented by the sudden blast, his movements faltering as the shockwave threw him off balance.

Suddenly, the room was engulfed in darkness. The lights flickered and died, plunging the space into a pitch-black void. Shadows danced along the walls, punctuated by loud bangs and the crackling of debris.

Through the darkness, Batman emerged, his imposing figure cutting through the shadows. The sound of his cape rustling was almost like a herald of doom as he got into a fighting stance.

“Robin,” Batman’s voice was a low, commanding growl, “take the girl. I’ll handle it from here.”

Damian wasted no time, swiftly scooping you into his arms. The icy chill of your skin against his own drove a spear of terror through him. The panic clawing at the edges of his mind was a monster he couldn’t afford to face, not now. He focused on keeping you as steady as possible, though your limp form felt like dead weight against him.

He tore out of the ballroom, his shoes skidding on the polished floor as he barreled into the hallway. His breath came in ragged gasps, each inhale burning in his lungs, but he didn’t slow down. He couldn’t. The entrance was just ahead.

Bursting through the doors, Damian propelled himself into the open air. The scene outside was pure pandemonium. Parents screamed for their children, kids clung to each other in terror, and the harsh wail of sirens pierced the night. Ambulance lights flickered like distant stars in the dark, red and blue blurs.

Now outside, Damian spotted a group of paramedics and, without a second thought, sprinted toward them. His hands shook slightly as he laid you down on the gurney, the coldness of your skin searing itself into his memory.

“She’s unresponsive,” he rushed out in a pant. “Pale skin, cold to the touch. Vital signs are unknown. She needs immediate attention.”

As he spoke, Selina rushed over, her fur coat billowing with each urgent step. The strands of her short, dark hair whipped wildly around her face, framing eyes wide with fear.

She bent down to your level, her breath visible in the cool night air as she placed a trembling hand on your forehead. Her fingers, warm against the alarming chill of your skin, recoiled slightly at the clammy coldness that greeted them. Selina winced, her gaze hardening as she took in the stark contrast between your deathly pallor.

“What happened?” she demanded, her voice taut with concern.

A paramedic, swiftly assessing your condition, replied, “We think she’s in shock. We’ll stabilize her and check for any other issues.”

Selina’s eyes, reflecting a storm of emotions, darted between you and Damian.

“Go,” she urged Damian, her voice carrying a firm edge despite the underlying tremor of her fear. “I’ve got this under control. Go take down that bastard and make him pay for what he did.”

Damian hesitated for a heartbeat, his gaze lingering on you. Every muscle in his body screamed to stay, but there was still a threat that left no room for hesitation. He nodded and without another word, turned and sprinted back toward the building. His cape flared out behind him, a streak against the night sky.

Selina's eyes followed Damian's retreating figure momentarily before refocusing on the paramedics. She watched them with sharp eyes, taking in every action and every word. Her hand never left your forehead, each pass of her thumb trying to provide comfort that her heart couldn’t.

As the haze of unconsciousness began to lift, you slowly became aware of your surroundings. The dim, unfamiliar light filtered through your closed eyelids, and a dull, persistent ache from the bite lingered in your arm. You winced, raising a hand to your arm to find that the pain had subsided, leaving only a faint, dull throb. There was no scar, just a vague sense of discomfort. 

Was that just a dream?

Before you could think about it anymore, your aunt's face was already in your peripheral. 

Selina's voice caught in her throat as your eyes began to flutter open. Her grip on your hand tightened involuntarily, a mix of relief and worry playing across her features.

"Hey, there," she said softly. "You gave us quite a scare, sweetheart."

You stared at her in confusion, teeth chattering against the biting cold. Selina’s eyes softened and she shed her coat, the plush fur rustling softly as it slipped from her shoulders. With gentle hands, she draped the coat around you, the dense, velvety texture brushing against your skin. The rich, warm scent of her perfume mingled with the coat’s embrace. As the coat enveloped you, its heat began to seep into your shivering body, gradually easing the icy grip of the cold.

“You’re going to be okay,” she whispered, the words more for her own reassurance than yours.

The night was supposed to be a celebration, a rite of passage, a milestone to cherish. Instead, it had turned into yet another brutal reminder of what Gotham’s streets truly were: a merciless battleground that chewed up hope and spat it out with a sneer.

God, this city was shit. 

Selina sighed, pushing those thoughts aside for the moment. The priority now was clear: get you home and into dry clothes.

"How are you feeling?" she asked softly, her fingers tracing a path along your cheek as if trying to reassure herself that you were truly okay. 

“Dizzy,” you mumbled. A soft groan escaped your lips as you tried to shake off the haze clinging to your senses. Your eyes fluttered shut for a moment, only to snap open again with a jolt as a sudden realization struck you.

“Damian—where—” you gasped, your voice barely more than a hoarse whisper. In a frantic attempt to sit up, you tried to push yourself upright, but the paramedics and Selina were quick to intervene. Their hands gently, yet firmly, guided you back down onto the gurney.

“Whoa, easy there,” Selina murmured soothingly. “Don’t push yourself. The paramedics said you’re in shock. You need to stay still for now.” 

You could feel the gentle pressure of her hands, steady and reassuring, as they anchored you in place. Her eyes, bright green, locked onto yours, conveying more than words ever could. She took a breath, her gaze flickering to the paramedics who were working swiftly around you.

“And Damian is... with his father,” she said, her voice trailing off as she gave you a look, the unspoken meaning in it clear.

Selina’s gaze shifted back to the paramedics with her usual air of confidence. She squared her shoulders, her tone now authoritative.

“Is there a chance I could take her home?” Selina asked, brushing her fingers through your hair with a gentle but firm touch. “It’s getting late, and I’d really rather have her safe in her room.”

The paramedic, a no-nonsense woman named Helen, gave Selina a critical once-over before shifting her gaze to you. Her eyes, sharp and assessing, took in your pale face and the faint tremors still running through your body.

“Well, she’s stable enough for transport, and we’ve done the basic stabilizing procedures,” Helen said, her tone pragmatic. “But she’s still in shock, and it could be risky to move her too quickly. Are you sure you can handle her?”

“She’s my kid. I’ve dealt with worse, believe me,” she replied with a wry grin.

Helen’s gaze softened slightly, though her voice remained stern. “Alright, but she’ll need monitoring for the next 24-48 hours. Light meals, plenty of rest. And no strenuous activity. She should see a doctor as soon as possible.”

Selina’s fingers idly traced patterns on the back of your hand as she listened intently to Helen’s instructions. 

“I’ll make sure all of that’s taken care of. Thank you,” Selina said, her voice carrying a rare note of sincerity. Helen nodded, seemingly satisfied with Selina’s response. She handed Selina a card with basic instructions and a phone number to call if any complications arose.

Despite your reluctance to leave while Damian was still knee-deep in the battle, your hazy mind and Selina's insistence eventually led to you being pushed into the back of your aunt's sleek convertible.

The drive was a blur of city lights and concerned glances from Selina. You leaned back, your head resting against the cool, smooth leather of the seat. The gentle hum of the engine beneath you was a steady, rhythmic comfort, a small solace amidst the turmoil. 

"Don't worry," Selina murmured, her eyes flicking to the rearview mirror to check on you. "Damian can handle himself. And the Bat will make sure he's safe. You rest. I'll tell you if anything happens to him."

Her words were a quiet promise amidst the rush of the city outside. You nodded weakly, feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing heavily on your eyelids. As the city sped by, its neon glow and shifting shadows blending into a dreamlike haze, you closed your eyes. The fatigue finally overtook you, and you drifted into a deep, dreamless sleep.

༻⊰───⋅

 Sunday , 9:02 AM - Your room, Catwoman’s Apartment.

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

There was a deep, throbbing ache in your arm, an insistent rhythm that seemed to pulse with each heartbeat, dragging you reluctantly from the depths of sleep. Your eyelids fluttered open to the soft, golden light spilling through the curtains, bathing your bedroom in a warm, comforting glow.

Through the thin walls, the distant murmur of the waking metropolis began to seep in—honking horns, the rhythmic rumble of early morning traffic, and the intermittent chatter of pedestrians starting their day. Occasionally, a siren's wail pierced through the background noise, a sharp reminder of the city's ceaseless pulse.

Faintly, through the walls, the muffled sound of the living room TV drifted to you.

“Good morning, Gothamites! Looking for another beautiful day here in the city. Clouds to start off with, but a pleasant afternoon ahead. Temperature’s in the high 40s—”

BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.

With a groan of frustration, you reached out to silence the blaring alarm clock. As you swung your arm toward it, the clock was crushed under the force. It slammed into the table, which splintered and buckled under the impact. Wood cracked and shattered, sending fragments skittering across the floor. The sudden and violent destruction jolted you fully awake. You stared, wide-eyed and disbelieving, at the mess, your arm still extended in mid-air as if it was frozen.

“What the—?” you muttered, your voice trailing off as you inspected your hand. It looked like your hand, perfectly normal and familiar. Just a normal hand.

Carefully, you climbed out of bed, wincing as you surveyed the mess of splintered wood and scattered debris strewn across the floor. 

You paused. A sudden, sharp tingle pulsed through your arm, like an electric jolt that raced beneath your skin. It was both invigorating and disorienting, sending a rush of awareness through your senses. Instinctively, you turned your head, your reflexes sharp as your hand darted out to catch a fly that had buzzed too close.

To your shock, your fingers closed around the tiny insect with a reflex you didn’t know you possessed. You stared at the fly, trapped gently between your fingers. Carefully, you opened your hand and let the fly go. 

It darted away, disappearing into the room. 

“Okay... That was new,” you muttered, shaking your head as if trying to clear away the confusion.

The tingling in your arm surged again, sharper and more insistent this time. You winced, the sensation both alien and unsettling, your mind struggling to grasp what was happening. Instinctively, you extended your hand, your gaze fixed on it in growing confusion.

Then, without warning, your fingers curled involuntarily, and something shot out from your wrist. A thin, silvery thread erupted into the air, glistening with a strange, iridescent sheen. 

THWIP.

The web snaked through the room, swift and fluid, before anchoring itself with a solid thunk against the wall. The sight of it—a web, unmistakably organic, stretching taut and firm—left you gaping in shock.

“What the actual fuck,” you freaked out. You took a hesitant step forward and tugged on it, half-expecting it to dissolve under your touch. But the webbing held firm.

You tried to pull it away, but it stayed stubbornly in place. Grunting, you pressed a foot against the wall for leverage and yanked harder. The webbing resisted with surprising strength, and a series of warning cracks echoed before a chunk of concrete broke away, crumbling under the strain.

The sudden release caught you off guard, sending you stumbling backward. You lost your balance and fell hard onto the floor, the impact knocking the breath out of you. For a moment, you just lay there, sprawled across the hardwood, your chest heaving as you tried to make sense of what just happened.

“What the fuck did I just get myself into?” you muttered to yourself, a disbelieving laugh bubbling up in your throat.

When you finally moved to stand, curiosity got the better of you. Experimenting, you aimed your hand at different parts of the room, determined to understand this strange new ability. 

This time, when you extended your hand, the web shot out with precision, latching onto a nearby lamp. You gave it a pull, and the lamp skidded across the floor toward you.

There was another tingle, and you perked up. The sensation was almost electric, a ripple of anticipation that seemed to focus on your bedroom door. As you turned toward it, the door swung open and Selina stepped in, dressed in her pajamas.

"What's with the noise...?” she trailed off and froze in the doorway, her eyes widening as they took in the chaos of the room. Broken wood and scattered debris covered the floor, interspersed with strands of glistening webbing clinging to the walls and lamp.

“Oh,” Selina murmured in surprise. She stepped cautiously over a particularly large piece of broken wood, her eyes darting around the room. Her gaze lingered on the webs, her brow furrowing as she raised an eyebrow at you. 

“Uh, good morning?” you offered weakly, trying to give a casual shrug despite the mess around you. “Mom, this might sound insane. But, I think I might have accidentally discovered superpowers.”

Selina stared at you, blinking slowly as she processed the scene before her. Her lips twitched as if she were trying to hold back a laugh or perhaps some form of disbelief.

“Accidentally discovered superpowers?” she echoed. “I think you've been around your boyfriend and his family too much. Baby—”

Before she could finish, your hand instinctively reached out. With a flick of your wrist, a web shot from your fingers and latched onto the door behind her. In a heartbeat, the door was yanked from its hinges, splintering as it flew across the room and crashed into the wall with a resounding thud.

Selina’s eyes widened in shock as she turned to face the now doorless doorway. She blinked at the empty space where the door had once been.

“Well,” she said, “I guess that’s one way to explain things.”

You stood there, face heating up as you tried to pull your hand back. “Y-Yeah, I think I need to work on my control.”

Selina shook her head, a frown on her lips. “Okay. First... Let’s get this mess cleaned up before the landlord starts asking questions. And maybe—just maybe—try not to redecorate the whole apartment with your... spider silk.”

༻⊰───⋅

A warm mug of coffee was placed in your hands as Selina settled beside you. You took a sip, but your knee continued to bounce in an anxious rhythm. She had called the school earlier to inform them that you would be taking it easy for the week, citing sickness as the reason.

You cast a glance at the puncture marks on your wrists with a mix of disgust and unease.

Oh, you felt sick alright.

"Alright," Selina said, taking a sip from her own coffee mug and setting it down with a clink. "We need to figure out what’s going on and how to handle it. The sooner we get a grasp on this, the better."

You nodded absentmindedly, flexing your fingers around your mug.

Selina sat with a laptop positioned between the two of you, its screen a chaotic mosaic of open newspaper articles and news websites. Humming softly to herself, she clicked through the pages, her eyes darting across headlines and images. The rhythmic clatter of her clicks was punctuated by occasional pauses as she focused on key details.

“Am I a meta?” you blurted out, staring at your reflection in the dark liquid of your coffee.

"Well," Selina began, her tone measured, "based on what we've seen so far, you're likely displaying meta-human traits. Though," she added with a wry smile, "I'm pretty sure I’m human despite the whole cat shtick. Same goes for your mother. Your father...well, that’s a different story."

You raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. "What do you mean by that?"

"Secretive guy. Kind of insane," Selina murmured to herself. "He did genetics research—"

She paused.

"Wait a minute," she said, her voice trailing off as she seemed to piece together something significant. "Your father was involved in genetics research..."

Selina licked her lips before grumbling and typing into the laptop. The screen flickered, and she pulled up a dense academic paper with your father's name prominently displayed. The title read: "Genetic Enhancement through Arachnid DNA Integration: Potential and Pitfalls."

She stared at the screen for a moment, a mix of disbelief and concern crossing her face. "Total nutjob," she muttered, shaking her head.

You squinted at the screen, trying to make sense of the technical jargon. "So... what’s it say?"

Selina’s fingers danced over the keyboard, scrolling through the dense paragraphs. "It describes experiments involving spider DNA to enhance human traits—strength, agility, and reflexes. Medical use too."

RING!

The sharp ring of your phone shattered the silence, jolting you both. Startled, you fumbled with the mug in your hand, which slipped from your grip and tumbled toward the floor. Your reflexes kicked in, and your foot shot out, catching the mug mid-fall with a swift kick, sending it flying back up into your hand. You blinked.

Selina’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, her gaze flicking from the mug in your foot to you. She grabbed a notepad from the desk, her pen already poised, and began scribbling furiously.

“Fast reflexes,” she muttered.

You scrambled to set the mug back on the table, your hands slick with sweat as you snatched your phone off the couch.

"Hello?" you answered, nervously wiping your damp hands on the fabric of your jeans. "W-Who’s this?"

"Beloved?" Damian’s voice crackled through your phone, sharp with an edge of worry. Arabic curses slipped through his words. “I’m sorry for calling so late. I didn’t mean to. I was knocked out after the confrontation.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “You got knocked out? What happened?”

"Just a minor inconvenience for someone of my skillset," he said dismissively. "I’m fine now. But what of you? Father mentioned that Selina told him about your sudden absences from school.”

You hesitated, glancing at Selina, who shook her head vehemently. She pressed a finger to her lips, urging you to stay silent about the spider situation.

"Fine!" you squeaked. "Totally fine. Just... family matters."

Damian’s voice was laced with skepticism. "Family matters? Are you sure you’re alright?"

"Yep," you replied, trying to keep your voice steady despite the strain. "Absolutely. Just... you know, the explosion rattled me a bit. The paramedics said I needed some rest for a few days.”

"I can head over to care for you—"

Selina rolled her eyes and extended her hand.

“Give me the phone,” she said, her tone brooking no argument. You hesitated for a moment, but the stern look on her face made it clear you had no choice. Reluctantly, you handed it over.

"Damian," she greeted him with a sickly sweet tone, "this is Selina. Everything is under control here. There’s no need for you to come breaking into my apartment."

There was a grunt before Damian responded, "Miss Kyle, I insist. It’s no trouble. I should be there to help. As any partner would."

Selina’s eyes flashed with irritation as she leaned against the couch, arms crossed. "I appreciate your concern, kid. But it’s really not necessary. She’s fine."

"Fine?" Damian’s voice took on a mocking tone. "After a confrontation like that? I highly doubt it. Recovery after such an incident can be complicated.”

Selina scowled. Her voice cut through the phone line with a sharp edge. "Damian, do you seriously doubt my abilities as a guardian?"

There was a pause.

"With all due respect—"

"I've got this!" Selina hissed. "She's safe, she's resting, and you're not needed here right now. Understood?"

There was another pause before Damian reluctantly agreed. "Understood. But if anything happens—"

"You'll be the first to know," Selina assured him "Now, go take care of yourself. I have got this handled."

"Fine," Damian said, still sounding begrudging. "Take care."

Selina handed the phone back to you, her expression exasperated. “He’s persistent, I’ll give him that.”

“You couldn’t even imagine,” you snorted as you pressed the phone back to your ear. “Hi, baby.”

Damian’s voice crackled through the speakers, the faint static only adding to the gruffness of his tone. 

"Tt. Hello," he grumbled, his tone falling flat. You couldn’t help but snicker, the sound escaping despite your best efforts to stifle it. 

“Don’t be mad,” you whisper into the phone. “I’ll only be gone for a week. You’ll survive. Mom's right—I’m in good hands. You need to focus on recovering too.”

“Anything at all. Father and Alfred have confined me to my bed, but the window to my bedroom remains open. The sheer ignorance of their restraint measures astounds me—they failed to account for my skills in evading such confinement.”

"Please, don’t try to escape through your window on my behalf. I really don’t need Bruce lecturing us again,” you groaned, pressing a hand to your forehead. 

“Very well,” Damian said with a hint of a pout, “but do remember, I am at your disposal if you should require anything.”

“Uh huh,” you hummed. “I’ll see you soon. Take care of yourself, Dami.”

“And you, my beloved,” he said, his voice softening. “Until then.”

There was a beep, and the call ended. You sighed, letting your hand drop.

Selina took a sip of her coffee, her lips curling into a wry grin. “He’s just like his father—equally obsessive and protective. Must run in the genes. That or we just have a knack for ensnaring emotionally constipated men.”

You laughed, a light, nervous sound that filled the room. As you tried to drop your phone back on the couch, you were met with unexpected resistance. The phone stubbornly adhered to your hand, as if it had decided to become a permanent accessory.

“Uh…” 

You squinted at the phone, wriggling your fingers and trying to shake it off. No matter what you did, the phone remained firmly in place, glued to your palm.

"Sticky hands?" Selina suggested, glancing at the notepad in her hand now filled with scribbled notes and observations. She made a note with a touch of amusement, her pen moving quickly across the page.

Grumbling under your breath, you made a few more attempts to pry the phone off your hand. “Looks like it. Just another thing to add to the list of weird,” you huffed.

With furrowed brows, you used your other hand to grip the phone, attempting to twist it away. In your distracted state, you failed to account for your newfound strength. The device crumbled under your grip, shards of plastic and glass exploding across the couch.

You stared at the wreckage in disbelief, your heart sinking. Not missing a beat, Selina quickly scribbled down “Enhanced strength” on her notepad.

You grumbled as the remnants of your phone fell to the floor, a mix of frustration and embarrassment washing over you.

"Can't we—can't we call Batman for this?" you asked, your hand nervously tangling in your hair. "Why'd you stop me from telling Damian anyway?"

Selina’s expression turned severe. Her hands gripped your shoulders firmly, guiding you to face her.

"Listen to me. Batman, Damian, or anyone else cannot know about this right now."

"What—Mom—"

"Not a word," she cut in sharply. "This is meta-level stuff we're dealing with. The Bats don’t handle metas well. We need to keep this under wraps until we fully understand it. The last thing I need is Bruce doing something to hurt my daughter."

Your face fell as her words sank in.

Selina’s grip on your shoulders relaxed slightly, and her gaze softened. Her voice took on a gentler, more empathetic tone. "Power frightens people, especially when it’s something they don’t understand. When they encounter something extraordinary, their confusion often morphs into fear. And fear... well, fear can make people see threats where there are none."

She took a deep breath, her expression grim. "Batman, in particular, has contingency plans for every potential threat, even for his closest allies. We—I can't risk him viewing you as one." Her fingers tightened on your shoulders, a silent plea for understanding.

"Alright," you said quietly, trying to steady your voice. Lying to Bruce was one thing. But Damian... Damian was different. The thought of deceiving him felt like a weight pressing heavily on your chest.

Selina seemed to sense your hesitation. Her gaze softened, and she placed a hand gently on your shoulder. “I know it’s not easy,” she said, her tone soothing. “Damian is—”

“Different,” you finished for her, the word catching in your throat. “He’s always been there for me, and now... I’m just lying to him.”

Selina nodded. “I understand. But you know, that boy looks up to his father. There’s no telling he won’t spill something. I’m sorry, sweetheart.”

"I get it,” your lips pursed. “But... what do we do now?"

Selina’s expression shifted from intense to thoughtful as she took a step back, her grip loosening. She glanced at the scattered remnants of your phone, then at the notepad filled with her hastily scribbled notes.

"Well," she sighed, "we need to find another space. I think you've done enough damage in our apartment."

 ༻⊰───⋅

NEXT ->

[fubu18writes]

❧ he never expected the sweet librarian from the college campus who never made eye contact to be in a bar where everyone could see her

♢regular tags: f!reader, college au, reader is a stripper, swearing ♢mature tags: reader is called "bunny", riding, oral (f receiving), hair pulling, doggy position, hair pulling, swearing ♢ all characters are 18+ and above unless stated otherwise

a/n: and the first thing i write here on tumblr is smut... and my first time writing it. also been on a haitani rindou brainrot so yeah, this led to it. i also went for lyric format like back in the wattpad days of song fics, since it'll fit the mood a little bit.

Haitani Rindou only went with Shion and the rest at a bar as a joke and maybe to celebrate because they finished their finals for the first semester.

What he didn't expect was seeing a familiar face on the stage.

You, (l/n) (y/n), the sweet librarian that he always passed by during the morning, afternoon, and nights on both school days and weekends. And from what he seen and heard from everyone who knew you on campus, you weren't the type to make eye contact for long and you preferred being in private.

Yet here you both are. In a private room that Rindou didn't expect this bar to have.

It was awkward, to say the least.

"Didn't know you had a sideline," Rindou tried making conversation, even though it would've make the situation more awkward than it already is.

"It's technically a hobby," You hum, fixing your hair on the vanity, eyeing him in the mirror. You could see his slightly confused expression as he sat on the bed. "A hobby," He repeats. "You're doing this... as a hobby."

Rindou was usually the type to get certain things at a glance or from a simple statement. But with this? And from you, who he thought was timid? He might as well let the world swallow him up.

You face him now, your hair all neat-looking. There was a sly grin on your face at seeing his expression. "What? Is the Haitani Rindou nervous at seeing a fellow classmate in skimpy clothing?"

Rindou would be in denial if he said no, but he wasn't admitting it. After all, who wouldn't be nervous if he saw his classmate, who wore oversized clothes, in a short, purple-colored dress with a zipper at the front? "What makes you think I'm nervous?" He raises an eyebrow at you. "It's just you."

There was a pause before to walked near him at the foot of the bed.

(You don't have to be so cautious If you practice what you preach Counting up the stacks on the counter A fucking disease)

Rindou feigned his nervousness with a blank expression, even if you were sitting on his lap to face him.

"So," Rindou resisted the urge to grab you by the waist. "What made you take this hobby?"

He feigned his nervousness, and somewhat lust starting to cloud in his mind, when you gave a grin. "Who knows? Maybe I want all eyes on me, even if I don't show it."

There was something laced in your tone and Rindou caught on quickly. He let his restraints go off little by little, and he held your waist. "Whose eyes, (y/n)?" He asks in a hushed tone.

"Hmm, maybe yours."

That was the tipping point.

(Don't ask me to be righteous If you practice what you teach Counting all your blessings the second You're down on your knees)

His lips were on yours, the kiss gentle at first before turning into something heated and passionate. His teeth tugged at your lower lip, his tongue sweeping past your lips. It was like the hunger and desire was there already, waiting for so long before finally giving in, leaving you breathless as he pulled away. He only allowed you a single gasp before slating his lips over and over again.

"Wait, wait..." You manage to breathe out once Rindou pulled away. You tug on his shirt, lust filled in your eyes. "Need you to take this off, now."

"Takes one to ask one, bunny." Rindou says with a smirk. You felt yourself clenching onto nothing with the nickname, and he notices your reaction. "Like that, huh? Then I'll mark you up like one."

Clothes were on the ground, leaving you in your black-laced bra and Rindou with his polo shirt. You clenched his dual-colored locks the moment his tongue was against your clit, sending a jolt through your body. His tongue worked its way in and out of your dripping pussy. "Fuck, Rin--" A breathy moan escapes your lips, your thighs squeezing around his head. "Wait, too fast-"

Rindou was just ignoring you, nuzzling his face deeper as the subtle friction against your clit sent another jolt throughout your body. You gripped his hair, pulling him harder against you.

Your breathing quickens, moaning out his name as you felt your climax. You could hear his loud slurping of your slick, and he looked up at you with glossy eyes.

"That's it, I'm makin' sure your eyes are all mine."

(So why, why Don't we get a little high, high?)

It was the younger Haitani's idea to fuck you from behind, your arms on the vanity so you could get a view of yourself in the mirror. His cock was on full-view, and you could only clench your fists as he entered inside you.

"Bet no one fucked you like this, right?" Rindou gripped your hair like how you did with his. "Bet no one's-" He did an experimental thrust, earning a moan from you. "-seen or heard you like this-"

You couldn't say anything coherent. All you could do was babble nonsense along with his name over and over again. You hid your face, which prompted Rindou to pull on your hair, forcing you to look at the mirror.

"Gotta let my bunny know what she looks like-" Rindou hit your sensitive spot. "-being all fucked up like this-"

You could feel your legs trembling again as you were staring at your face in the mirror: Hair disheveled, bra strap loosened. You could even see Rindou's expression, and it showed that he was dead set on making your climax come again.

(Don't we get a little, get a little Don't we get a little high Get a little high, high)

"Fuck, Rin--inside, come inside-!" You started begging. "Want you to fill me up, Rin!"

Another tipping point broke in Rindou that night. "You're mine, got that, bunny?"

"All yours, Rin, all yours-"

"Let 'em hear you say it, bunny."

"I'm yours, all yours--Fuck, Rindou, gonna--!"

"Shit, don't move-" Rindou lets go of your hair now to hold your waist. A low growl escapes his lips, feeling your pussy clench around his cock as the both of you release your climax.

You pant heavily, trying to catch your breath. You turn to look at him. "I'm all yours, m'kay?"

"You fucking tease." Rindou had another smirk on his face. "You took the hobby to make me do this, didn't you?"

You only let out a hum at that. You let out a whine when he pulled out, your pussy dripping with both of your juices. "You're still clenching..." He pulls you close, you facing him once more. "Gonna have to punish you for makin' me wait this long, bunny."

[noforkingclue]

Her Blood Soaked Hands Chapter 1 (River Cartwright x OC)

Summary :

Naomi Heart

MI5 assassin (although really that word is just so outdated). Taverner blackmailed her into joining The Service or face prison time for a crime that she may, or may not have, done. Naomi hates having to work under Taverner but has even less desire to go to prison. Really she can see only way for her to get back her life-

Somehow make it into Slough House.

And she knows just the person to help her achieve this.

Author's Note: I wanted to go along a different route and make an OC that's a bit more... stabby than my other girls. Hope you enjoy this :)

Warnings: cannon typical violence, death (lots of death...)

Slow Horses tag list: @cillmequick

There weren’t many things that Duffy despised. Oh there were plenty of things that he hated but to loathe with a burning passion (not that he used that word too often) was far, far rarer.

Cartwright definitely made that list. An over arrogant cunt who never should’ve been made a spy in the first place. He believed that he had earned his spot due to the talents of his grandfather and not the limited ones of his own.

Taverner was next. Far too devious and would probably happily stab her own family in the back if it meant she could become First Desk. Duffy knew that she also despised, and distrusted him, so at least the feeling was mutual. Still, Duffy wanted to keep his job and Taverner was probably already plotting a way to get rid of him.

Then there was the general public. Well, specifically the public who somehow managed to get mixed up The Park’s business one way or another. They’d seen something that they shouldn’t and become snivelling wrecks. Oh well, at least the woman he was interviewing now was attractive enough to make this worthwhile.

“Ok,” he said as he led her away from the civilian emergency services, “let’s go through this one last time.”

“But I’ve already been through it with the police.” she said, a fresh set of tears pouring down her face

“Yeah, well, I need to hear it.”

“O… ok,” she sniffed once more before taking a deep breath, “I was hired to do some house sitting for the Jones’. I arrived slightly early so they could let me in-”

She cut herself off. By now Duffy and her were a suitable distance from the rest of the civilians. She had a blanket wrapped around her shoulders. She looked down at the ground and swallowed thickly. For a moment Duffy thought she was going to throw up.

“And?” Duffy said

When she looked back up any grief in her eyes and gone. She smiled widely and said,

“Well then Nick, the next thing I did was to shoot them all in the head.”

And then there was Taverner’s pet psychopath. Duffy pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. She just continued to smile and he said,

“I thought you only had one target.”

“Well you know how it is…”

“No I don’t.”

“Don’t you?” her voice lowered, “It’s not like you haven’t killed people before.”

“That’s different.”

“How?”

“It just is. You know I’m going to have to report this.”

“Oh good,” her smile widened which, although he would never say this, unnerved Duffy, “I do hope so.”

“Excuse me? Are you finished with your interview? We’re going to have to treat her for shock.”

Immediately the mask slipped back onto her face and she was led back towards the ambulance. Duffy shook his head as he watched her leave with the medics. They really had no idea who they were dealing with, did they?

Civilians.

*

Diana Taverner looked out of the glass wall of her office and surveyed her empire below her. She knew that technically it wasn’t fully hers just yet but that was just a formality. She liked it when The Park was like this. Only the night shift on duty, no major catastrophes to remedy or create. Only the quiet hush that-

Was interrupted by the drumming of fingers.

Diana looked in the reflection of the glass at the young woman lounging on the leather sofa. She glanced over at Diana and raised her eyebrows. Neither of them spoke, not wanting to be the first to shatter the peace. Eventually the younger woman sighed and said,

“Is this going to take much longer?”

Diana smirked. Another battle won. She didn’t immediately reply, continuing to observe those below her. The other woman closed her eyes and took a deep breath.

“I didn’t realise you had anywhere else to be.”

Her eyes snapped open and she glanced over at Diana.

“I do have a life outside of here.”

“Hmm.”

She narrowed her eyes at Diana’s response. Diana turned on her heel and walked towards her desk. She sat down and picked up Duffy’s report. She read through it again before looking at her over the top of it. She wondered how many times Duffy had to redraft and edit it in order to make it professionally suitable.

“How many this time, Heart?” she asked

“Why? Didn’t Duffy remember to include it in his report.”

“I want to hear your side of things.”

“Makes a change.”

“And you’d do well to remember who is in charge.”

“I remember. Dame Ingrid Tearney, right?”

Taverner’s gaze hardened for a second before a cold smile appeared on her face. She clicked her fingers and pointed to the seat opposite her. Heart didn’t move immediately but one pointed look for Taverner made her sigh and move. She collapsed into the chair and Taverner said,

“I gave you one target.”

“You did.”

“So tell me, Naomi, why are we dealing with three dead bodies.”

Naomi bit her lip and rocked back in her chair. She looked up at the ceiling and said,

“They were paedophiles?”

“Were they?”

“Would that make things better or worse if they were?” Naomi rocked forwards and rested her elbows on Taverner’s desk

“We could work with that.”

“Then no, they weren’t. They just,” she shrugged, “got in the way.”

“You know,” Taverner’s gaze flicked back to the report, “Duffy called you a liability.”

“Did he?” Naomi said in amusement

“Among other things. None of which are overly flattering.”

“Really? Did he put that down in his report?”

“He’s suggesting that you should be terminated.”

“Literally or figuratively?”

“That,” Taverner ignored Naomi’s comment, “you shouldn’t be here.”

“And what do you think.”

Naomi and Taverner locked gazes. Taverner put down the report and leant back in her seat. She steepled her fingers and said,

“That, for the meantime, you’re useful.”

“What a relief. I would hate to be a burden.”

A brief smile flashed across Taverner’s face. Naomi looked out of the window, doing the same as Taverner earlier. The Park really was at its best like this.

“So what’s going to happen now?” Naomi asked, “I’m assuming that there’ll be an investigation.”

“No need to waste time and resources on that.”

Naomi looked over at Taverner sharply. She raised her eyebrows at Naomi before turning her attention towards her computer.

“I thought-” Naomi started

“Yes?”

Taverner’s gaze locked with Noami’s and she felt her cheeks get hot under her stare.

“Nothing.”

“If you have something to say, please, feel free.”

Free.

Naomi was anything but free. Taverner had sunk her claws so deep into her that it was almost impossible for her to see a way out.

“No,” Naomi said quietly, “no comment.”

“Good.”

“I’ll be heading off then.”

“I’ll have some more work for you tomorrow.”

“It’s a Saturday,” Naomi said, “don’t I get time off?”

“Not this Saturday. Now don’t let me detain you from your very busy personal life.”

Naomi bit her tongue as she left Taverner’s office. She was used to having the upper hand in these types of situations. Diana Taverner did nothing but bring a sense of uneasiness with every conversation. She sighed as she made her way through The Park’s corridors. Hushed whispers followed her but by now she had become used to them. Her line of work was a lonely one. Others tended to avoid people like her. Even those in the same line of work didn’t talk much. Just the odd ‘hello’ here and there but apart from that, nothing.

Naomi sighed and rested against the railing as she looked down on the people below. She could feel the stares but continued to ignore them. Diana fucking Taverner. This was all her fault. Naomi had a good life before Lady Di pushed her way into it. A good job, a nice house, things that mattered. But now Taverner had her exactly where she wanted Naomi- at her beck and call.

It wasn’t as though Naomi hadn’t tried her damnedest to get out from under Taverner. Every little trick in the book she had tried and Taverner had always managed to find a way to drag her back. Really, Naomi should’ve been expecting something like this. You didn’t become Second Desk without being unhand. Maybe Taverner was grooming her to become some sort of replacement? Doubtful. Even the mere thought made Naomi wrinkle her nose.

Oh she had no desire to go to prison, not at all, but she didn’t want to be chained up here for the rest of her career.

“Did you hear about what happened the other day?”

Naomi perked up at the possibility of hearing some gossip. Gossip was a valuable form of currency at The Park. Rumours, true or not, could easily destroy someone. Always a useful weapon to have and Naomi was constantly looking for ways to upgrade her arsenal

“Was this about those fucking Slow Horses?” the second agent said as they passed by Naomi in a hurry

Well then, why didn’t she think about them earlier?

*

It had been another rough day for River. Then again, those days were becoming more and more frequent. The bad always outweighed the good in Slough House. Jackson Lamb had the uncanny ability to suck any joy out of someone's day. In the end it was just to give up.

“Excuse me, is this spot taken?” a woman said

River shook his head but didn’t bother looking over. After all, she was just going to be waiting for someone else. No one ever went looking for a Slow Horse. How long had it been since he had gone on a date? It was hard enough to get a date when working at The Park but being in Slough House just sucked every bit of energy from River. It was why he was spending his Friday night drinking alone in a bar. Always a good sign for his future.

“You’re River Cartwright.”

Now this caught River’s attention. River finally looked over at the woman who stood next to him at the bar. She smiled at him but there was a hint of… something behind it. He had seen that look before on Taverner and on Lamb. It didn’t suit someone so young and so attractive. River tried to take another sip of his pint but ended up missing his mouth and spilling part of it down his shirt.

Estuary accent. Nothing particularly remarkable although it sounded ever so slightly forced. He narrowed his eyes as he took another sip of his pint, this time the alcohol actually going into his mouth. 

“You’re in Slough House.”

So, she was definitely Service. He winced at her statement causing a flash of amusement to cross her face. It was an automatic reaction, one that he was trying (and failing) to break. Her smile widened as she edged closer. Fuck, when was the last time he had someone this close to him who wasn’t trying to kill him? However, the disarming smile and dangerous glint in her eyes was enough for River to second guess that latter bit.

“You are.” she said quietly, her breath fanning faintly across his cheek

“It’s not exactly a secret,” muttered River, “if you work where I think you work.”

She cocked her head to the side as she studied him intently.

“You want out of there.” she said bluntly

“Who doesn’t?”

River put his pint down, slightly harsher than intended. Some more of his overpriced pint sloshed out and he tried not to think about what a waste of money that was.

“Who the fuck are you and why do you give a fuck about Slough House.”

“You want out,” the mystery woman repeated, “and I want in. Maybe we can help each other out.”

[iamamythologicalcreature]

An Ask Game for Writers to Procrastinate Working on Your WIP(s)

(Not like I need the assistance, but I'm so thrilled to be thought of as a writer that I'm totally doing this.)

Thank you so much for the invites @aristocratic-otter, @bookish-bogwitch, @shrekgogurt, @ic3-que3n, @ivelovedhimthroughworse, @drowninginships, @best--dress, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe, @monbons, @thewholelemon, @whatevertheweather, and @youarenevertooold! (I think I might be the last one in the 'verse doing this, but that won't stop me from tagging more people at the end.) I've loved reading everyone's answers!

Okay. Here we go. I am absolutely using my flimsy claim to authorhood to answer these. >.>

1. 🦈Tell us the name of your/ one of your WIP(s):

The Haunting of Simon Snow

2. 🍄Describe your WIP/one of your WIP(s) in the format of “___ + ___ =___”

Construction Worker!Simon + haunted manor house = a most interesting summer job

3. 🌍What tags or warnings will your / one of your WIP(s) need if you intend to share it?

Well, it's a ghost story. You can draw some conclusions from that.

4. 🧭An alternative title to your/ one of your WIP(s)?

A Victorian's Gothic

5. ⚠️Which WIP your most likely to finish or update next?

It sure as hell better be Haunting. I mean, my goodness, it's looped around my brain like a too-patient boa constrictor, just sloooowly squeezing.

6. 💾What is your document of your WIP/ a WIP called? (not the stories actual title but what you’ve saved it as)

snowbaz.scriv is my catch-all Scrivener file for all ficcy things

7. 🖍Post Any sentence(s) from your WIP.

There’s a person that I used to be. Magic I used to hold, magic that held me. I have done everything I can to forget that feeling, because it was never supposed to be mine. I was never magic. He’s magic. He’s magic, and I can almost touch him. He’s magic, and he can almost hold me. I live on the edge of almost all the time, so that’s enough. (It’s never enough.)

8. ♻️A scrapped idea for your current WIP.

This was originally planned as a story written in letters. (Doing that with something else, now, and it works way better in a different story.)

9. 🤔What’s a story you’d love to write but haven’t even started yet?

I'm going to stick to snowbaz fanfic for this, because if I broaden it any further, this list will instantly become quite long. (I have a lot of original story ideas.) For snowbaz, though? Well, there's the one I'm planning for COTTA. There are a couple AU's that I've written way too many notes on. And then a Fangirl crossover fic that I sincerely hope to someday write. (Technically I started it, but only a few hundred words at this point.)

10. 🤡How many WIPS are you actively working on?

Actively? One. Maybe two. Kinda thinking two, but the second one is new and more of a game at this point, so we'll see. (Not quite so actively I also have my Baz fic, my "Silence" fic where Baz successfully steals Simon's voice. It's roughly (super roughly) outlined, and I've written several scenes, but it's on the back-burner for Haunting. And COTTA. No more new fics after that, though! I really want to tell that story!)

11. 🛠Is there a scene or anything in the WIP you are struggling with right now?

That's funny. What a question. XD YES. Yes, there are scenes. I'm designing Pitch Manor to get through this damned scene LOL

12. ❤️Not a question, just a second Kudos to send.

Thankee kindly!

On the off chance there are any fic writers left out there who haven't yet done this... Tags! @mooncello, @cutestkilla, @blackberrysummerblog, @hushed-chorus, @fatalfangirl, @onepintobean, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart, @angelsfalling16, @noblecorgi, @alexalexinii, anyone else who wants to. Cheers!

[beautifulsnake2162020]

We have it all (Hualian adopted daughter fanfic) - Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This is a work of fanfiction. I only do this for fun.

Premise: Not long after comforting a bullied girl named Meng Ai, Hua Cheng and Xie Lian find themselves adopting her and together they form a family they didn't know they had needed for awhile.

Story/Genre tags: Slice of life-ish (mainly), Family focused, Hua Cheng's houses finally become homes, there may be an overarching story but that's not the focus, Hualian being parents, Fengqing being uncles, Lang Qianqiu falling in love with someone who was raised by the Xianle squad, technically post-canon (though I haven't read the books so if there are some ooc moments please forgive me).

AO3 link

Follower Tags: @anonimgato1507

Chapter 1

"Congratulations to the newlyweds." A powerful yet gentle voice with an underlying enthusiasm silences the chatter in the wedding banquet. Even Feng Xin and Mu Qing had halted their banter to turn their attention to the latest arrival. They share a glance, and give each other a knowing look as they watch the new guest with concerned alertness.

With every step the new guest took towards the new husbands there were hushed whispers beginning to occur. All of which involved the same emotions of concern, amusement, awe, and confusion.

The only ones who was pleasantly surprised by the new arrival were the newlyweds themselves.

"Xiwangmu, it's been awhile since you've ventured out of your gardens. Thank you for your congratulations." Xie Lian says as he and Hua Cheng wait for her to approach them. From his periphery he notices Hua Cheng's subtle expression of curiosity mixed with concern beneath his calmness.

"Just because I prefer to stay in my gardens and spend my days with my husband does not mean I am unaware of current events. A marriage involving a Supreme Ghost King and a God is quite rare and I feel I must be present to offer my congratulations and blessing. Though I'm quite sure that you are both more than capable of having a happy one even without either." The Great Mother goddess then gives a bow to the couple. Low enough to show that she is being respectful but high enough to show that she is greater than all beings present.

The newlyweds follow the same, Hua Cheng may not have any qualms about killing any God who simply insulted his husband but even he knows better than to disrespect the Goddess whose domain is life, death, creation and destruction. Even ghosts are under her mercy. If there is anyone who could destroy a ghost for good, it is her. The fact that she showed up in their wedding banquet is either a great blessing or a great curse.

Or perhaps both or neither at all.

His instincts told him that she was being sincere in her intentions but she also had an underlying motive for showing up.

She raises her eyebrow and smirks at him.

"Don't be alarmed, I didn't feel the need to interfere in your journey to get to this point. It's why my husband and I merely watched from afar."

"Well I'm glad that you have decided to appear in our wedding." Xie Lian says in a thankful yet diplomatic tone. Only San Lang's thumb caressing the back of his hand kept him steady. In truth he didn't know what to make of her presence here. He can only hope that it is a blessing. After all neither she nor her husband had ventured beyond their gardens and rarely appeared in the heavenly court. He still hasn't met her husband. He asked her about it when she attended the banquet in heaven celebrating his first ascension into heaven.

"My husband is finished with heavenly affairs." She says as she gives him a basket of peaches from her garden. The peaches of immortality serving as a form of assurance that he is indeed immortal.

"It's why only I enter into the domain of heaven. Heaven for him only causes exhaustion of the work he used to do before he appointed a successor. I don't want to subject him to that type of stress again. But who knows..." she cuts open a peach and hands one half to him.

"Given the right circumstances you might finally meet him in the future." And that was the last he saw of her.

Until now.

"How fortunate it is then that my husband and I have a gift for the newlyweds. Something which I will discuss with you at the end of tonight's banquet. But nevertheless I have already given my congratulations, and now as I stand before both of you I shall now give my blessing for your marriage." Multiple colors come out from her palms and gently embrace the newlyweds. There was an aura of optimism, hope, and encouragement emitting from the aura she gave them. It was at this point that everyone began to relax in her presence. If she wanted to cause harm and a ruckus even a powerful Goddess like herself couldn't hide her malicious intent for long.

"There, now I shall wait till you are both ready to meet me in private for the wedding gift that my husband and I have prepared for you." She gives a small bow of her head and gives them a sincere smile before she allows herself to be lead to a place cleared for her beside Lang Qianqiu and his ward. Gradually the banquet returned to the normal fanfare celebrating the newlyweds and everyone almost forgot that the Goddess who rules over their life and death was in their midst.

Once majority of their guests have departed Yin yu escorted the Goddess to a private room with the newlyweds. She passes by Feng Xin ang Mu Qing who both bow with reverence to her. She also feels their skepticism and alertness to her presence. Something she's used to as part of the domain she rules and controls over. It is because of her domain that she and her beloved husband can afford to stay away from heavenly affairs and live a relatively peaceful life.

"We are in private now, I know you want to speak with me more directly than when we had an audience." She says with her gaze focused on the Crimson Rain Sought Flower. He gives a low chuckle as he settles himself to his Gege's right side.

"What gave me away?"

"I could sense that you wanted to dismiss formality and ask me what my real intentions were. But you couldn't out of your love for Dianxie. Well - " she opens her palms and spread them in an encouraging gesture.

"We are mostly alone now, be as direct as you want with me."

"Very well - this gift that you and your husband have for us. There's a hidden catch to it isn't there."

"Yes." Hua Cheng smirks.

"You're not going to deny it?"

"What would be the point? If you think about it everything has a hidden catch. Whether that is to your detriment or favor is up to the both of you."

"Then why give it to us then?"

"Because from what we have observed, you two are the best option to recieve this gift." This catches Xie Lian's attention.

"Let me guess." Xie Lian began. "We need to prove ourselves in some way to recieve this gift."

"Precisely."

"Then is it really a gift then?" Xie Lian asks as calmly as possible while his hand rubs Hua Cheng's.

"It is, don't worry - we are both confident that you two will pass our final test before we give you the gift."

"You don't have it with you." Hua Cheng's voice doesn't bother hiding his skepticism about her intentions. For all he knows she's the master mind and this mysterious husband of hers is unaware of what she's doing.

"Let's just say the gift will be delivered in the right time. I never said that you would receive it tonight."

"Hmm fair point."

"And you're really not going to tell us?"

"Dianxie, both of you are intelligent enough to deduce what the gift may be. Why should I do the work for you? That would be an insult to the intelligence you both possess."

"Or an excuse for you to hide your true intention hidden in this gift." Hua Cheng doesn't bother hiding the threatening tone in his voice. After what he and Gege had been through, he will be damned if they will once again be used in the games of others.

"Think what you will, but I'll tell you right now that should you pass the confirmatory test and should you accept the gift it will also be a favor to me and my husband."

"In what way?"

"Let's just say dear Ghost King, that it would save us from finding other worthy recipients - and before you refuse, I'm not allowing any refusal until you know all you need to know to make a decision."

"The decision to refuse is getting more and more appealing."

"San Lang."

"Are you really not going to tell us what it is?"

"Don't overthink it. Just be yourselves, I'm confident that you will like the gift and will treasure it."

"It better not be a useless toy for a passing amusement."

"Oh don't worry Crimson Rain Sought Flower." She says with a smug smile as she stands.

"I'm sure neither of you will see the gift that way."

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

"What are you thinking Gege?" Xie Lian was brought back to the present as he and Hua Cheng were making their way back to Puchi shrine on a horse driven cart. This time it was Hua Cheng who had the reins while he sat beside him.

"Oh just a couple of things." He says with a blush as he lays his head on his husband's right shoulder.

"Hmm, what's the first?"

"The second time we met...our first real conversation when you were in disguise."

"Like how I am now?"

"Oh be honest, you've also placed one on me."

"Why wouldn't I?" Hua Cheng chuckles and Xie Lian sneaks a kiss on his shoulder.

"It wouldn't do if people would think that you were cheating on me with someone else."

"Hmm but I love you in all of your forms."

"And I love you in all of yours." He pulls the reins stopping the horse as they arrive on front of Puqi shrine. They begin unloading the items from the cart and begin making some partial preparations for the incoming ghost month.

"What was the other thing that you were thinking of?" Hua Cheng asks as they settle down to eat their lunch.

"I was thinking that it was seven years since we got married and till now I don't think we've done any test or recieved any gift from Xiwangmu."

"She could just be bluffing. I may not know her personally, but I wouldn't put it past the Gods to not follow through on their promises."

"Still, she sounded sincere. Perhaps she and her husband forgot."

"Hmph, it wouldn't be the first time for a God or Goddess."

Then from a distance the sound of thunder rumbling emerges.

"Huh, there seems to be a storm coming. We'll need to make some final preparations before the downpour starts."

"Last I checked we'll have to prioritize wood. We could also spend this as one more stroll in the outside before we lock ourselves in?"

"I'd be delighted." Xie Lian says before leaning over to kiss Hua Cheng. Their lips meet briefly, now was not the time for a long lingering one. Once the rain will fall there would be plenty of time for that.

Hand in hand they make their way to the forest, the same forest they had to pass through when they were escaping from ghosts during their second meeting. Perhaps it is instinct, or simply a feeling, but the moment they both entered the forest they heard sobs from someone crying.

It was strange, no one would stay within this forest because of the ghosts that lived in it. And whenever the ghost month would arrive and when the worlds of the ghosts and the mortals collided, it frequently ended up with mortals spreading fear from their ghostly encounters or their deaths. The ghosts would just be more and more active in taking mortal lives.

The sounds of sobbing began to be louder in volume. They share a look of silence to pursuit it. If this is a ghost who is weeping then they will need to help it find its peace before other ghosts may take advantage of their despair.

But it was not a ghost who was crying.

On a stump, a little girl was pouring out her despair.

"I...I don't..." She couldn't help but bring a new batch of tears as the thunder begins to get louder.

"Why...why don't...why don't they like me?" She looks up to the sky. The sky was beginning to darken, and she knew that it was going to rain soon.

Better that she help the rain water the ground while she still has so much tears to give.

"Why doesn't anyone want to be my friend?! Even the creatures in this forest don't want to be my friend! What did I do wrong?!" The first few rain drops begin pouring down.

"Baba says that not everyone could see or talk to ghosts like we could. I tried...I tried to talk to the ghosts here...but nobody wants to be friends with me...what...what did I do wrong?" She brings her head back down to the stump. She feels so desperate now that she just wants to cry her heart out.

"I...I don't...I don't want to be alone...can someone...anyone, please tell me what's wrong with me?"

"Nothing is wrong with you." A deep but gentle voice responds. She looks up from the tree stump and sees a beautiful man with an eye patch over his right eye. His left eye gives her a reassuring look as he gives her a gentle smile. It's only after blinking a few times that she realizes that he's also holding an umbrella which protected them from the rain.

"Really?"

"Yes little one."

"Then why do they say mean things to me?"

"What do they say?"

"That because I could talk to ghosts and have mismatched eyes I was cursed at birth. And they don't want to be with someone who is cursed." She wipes some of her tears on her sleeve as she looks up at the mysterious man. Her parents did warn her to not talk to strangers but something about him was reassuring her that she isn't in any danger.

And she was tired of being alone.

"Is that so?"

"Yes, they also say that my parents made a mistake in giving me my name. Because how can someone who is cursed have love?"

"That is cruel." She was touched by his tone. But she couldn't help but bring a new wave of tears.

Why was he being so nice to her?

Isn't she supposed to be cursed?

And yet here is someone who is talking to her and shielding her from the rain.

"Would you like to know something about me?" She feels her voice become hoarse in trying to say yes. So she nods at the beautiful man and she feels herself lighten up as he smiles at her.

"I was also bullied because of my eyes."

"Really?"

"Yes, little one. Just like you I had mismatched eyes. And others would also say mean things to me."

He leans closer to her as the rain gets stronger. Bringing her closer to the center of the umbrella. Up close he could clearly see that her left eye was a vibrant blue color and her right eye had the same amber color that Gege had.

And she was just like him a long time ago.

Wanting to not be alone.

Everyone rejecting him.

And only one who didn't.

"It had gotten so bad that I thought life had no meaning anymore."

"What happened?" Hua Cheng gives her a gentle smile.

"Someone saved me."

"How?"

"He gave me something to live for."

She calmed down and she was no longer crying. She was now truly listening to him and his words. Behind her was Xie Lian sharing a knowing look with him.

"Would you like to meet him little one?"

[withclawandvine]

what we pretend to be

Summary: Azriel was a veteran spy, well suited to the sneaking and solitude that comes with a life in the shadows. He was good at it. He wasn’t good at undercover missions, so he couldn’t hide his shock when new recruit and undercover specialist Elain Archeron was already seated at the conference table, looking beautiful as ever. And then it was dropped on them like a bomb: Azriel and Elain would be sent to the suburbs, posing as a married couple to get intel on a suspicious man who, according to intel, was in communication with notorious arms dealer, Koschei Sokolov.

Author’s note: so i started writing this way back in may for week 2 of elriel month, but i am probably the slowest writer in existence. and, the story kind of got away from me--i normally write little one-shots but this is shaping up to be a pretty long fic. but even though it’s several months overdue, i still wanted to post this ‘cause it’s been really fun to work on, and doing so got me out of a nearly two-year long writing rut (‘:   if people are interested i’ll finish part 2 👀 

Tags: SFW, undercover au, fake married 

Word count: 2.3k

ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/42105033

According to Rhysand’s message, the meeting was in the east conference room at nine o’clock sharp. Azriel scanned his I.D. to unlock the door at 8:57, but he was still the last person to arrive. He could tell by the impatient frown on Amren’s face, made all the more conspicuous by her bloody lipstick. It was one of the only colors in an otherwise gray room. The carpet, the table, the chairs, and even the people sitting in them looked as if an artist had rendered them in pencil. Except for that slash of lipstick and Elain Archeron’s lilac dress. 

Azriel hesitated at the sight of her. Even though she’d been with the agency for a little over a year. Elain’s assignments had never overlapped with Azriel’s. Partly because she would be gone for weeks at a time on undercover operations, and therefore unavailable on the rare occasions he needed a partner. And partly because Azriel never went undercover himself. He started reaching for his phone, just to make sure he’d read Rhys’s message right, when he was greeted by the man himself. 

“Azriel, welcome.” He gestured to the table, and one of the few empty chairs still tucked into it. Heads turned at the greeting, and Elain smiled at Azriel as he hovered in the doorway. “Please, have a seat so we can get started.” 

He nodded, the movement blunt and awkward now that everyone was looking at him, and slipped into the closest empty chair. Amren nodded to one of the few people Azriel didn’t recognize. He stood up and introduced himself as Agent Tiberian. He sent a file zipping across the table to Azriel. He opened it, and stared at the blurry photograph paper-clipped at the top right. 

“This is  Ivan Galkin. Until recently, he’s had a spotless record. Still does, technically. He lives in a quiet neighborhood with his wife, in a house paid for with family money. We’ve started looking into it, and so far, everything checks out there. 

What’s interesting is that according to recent intel, he’s been in contact with Koschei Sokolov, an arms dealer we’ve been tracking.” 

“Who made contact first?

“How long have they been communicating?” 

Elain and Azriel’s questions came from opposite ends of the table at the same time, crashing into one another. If not for the troubled crease between his brows, Tiberian’s  answering shrug would have appeared casually disinterested. “Unfortunately, we don’t know the specifics.” 

“The specifics?” Amren echoed, her tone just shy of disdainful. “It sounds to me like you don’t know anything, agent.” 

With significantly more diplomacy, Rhys asked, “What about the informant? Perhaps they noticed something else that could be of significance. Did you take a statement?” 

“We didn’t get the chance,” Tiberian said. “He was found dead Wednesday morning.”  

A hush fell over the room. Clearly, he’d stumbled into something that Koschei and Galkin had decided was worth his life. 

Tonelessly, Tiberian directed them to the second page of the file. Azriel looked down at the city map, brow furrowed. It wasn’t the business district of the city that was highlighted, or even one of the seedier boroughs. The red circle on the map encased a small neighborhood just outside the city. An affluent one, at that. It was a neighborhood full of grand houses with pristine yards in the middle of a top-rated school district.

“Galkin lives in this gated community,” the agent explained. “Low risk and lots of privacy. It’s made surveillance near impossible. All we’ve been able to observe from a distance is that the house seems to have quite a few visitors. Not exactly enough to bring anyone in for questioning.” 

“That’s where two you come in,” Rhysand jumped in, looking down the table at Elain, then turning to Azriel. “Of course apprehending Sokolov remains a top priority, but it’s of equal importance that we gather information on Ivan Galkin. What does a wealthy man living in the suburbs want with an arms dealer, and why would Sokolov agree to work with him?

And lucky for us, the house directly northwest of Sokolov’s was for sale.” Rhys’s smile, nearly lupine, told a different story. “You move in tomorrow.” 

It took some effort for Azriel not to balk at the orders. He stole a glance at Elain. Her face was calm and thoughtful, but just before he looked away, she smiled at him again. Azriel didn’t smile back. He couldn’t do anything but sit there and think there must have been some sort of mistake. The closest Azriel had ever come to going undercover was sneaking into a party using random name on the guest list. And once he was through the door, he could shake off the identity, free to return to what was comfortable: listening from shadowy corners, planting cameras in forgotten vents, slipping out through windows. 

Azriel tried to argue. Tried to explain that he wasn’t capable of blending in, that he could only blur—disappear. But all that came out was, “I don’t do undercover missions.” 

“You do now,” Amren said. She was his direct supervisor—Rhysand’s right hand—and the comment was nothing less than a command. 

Azriel knew it was stupid to push back, especially now, in a room full of people that outranked him. But nobody in their right mind would look at him and believe that he was anything but suspicious. He was cold and guarded. Strung tight as a bowstring, nearly vibrating with tension at any given moment. Whether he was about to break or strike was anyone’s guess.

“I’m not sure I’m the right choice for this job.” 

Rhys’s shoulders tensed, the only sign of his dwindling patience. His voice was calm, teasing even, “Yes, Azriel. We all know you’re weird and vaguely off-putting. But you are also our most experienced at gathering intel and have good instincts. I trust that you can figure out the rest. Especially with Elain at your side. She’s done this plenty of times, and is charming enough for the both of you.” 

Elain, exactly the opposite of weird and vaguely off-putting, had recently returned from a deep undercover mission that had kept her away for most of the summer. She’d only just stopped accidentally slipping into the regional accent she’d adopted for it. He’d caught himself smiling into his dark roast last Tuesday morning when she asked him to please pass the suga’ in a voice like warm honey, slow and sweet. 

“We’ve been chasing our tails trying to get close to this guy for years, and whatever this thing is with Galkin can’t be good,” Tiberian refocused the group. “We need the best out there.” 

“Not to mention, research suggests that we humans are quicker to trust attractive faces.” Rhysand looked pointedly from Azriel to Elain, whose cheeks dusted pink.  

Without missing a beat, Azriel turned to Rhys, “Shouldn’t they be sending you, then?” 

Rhysand flashed a truly dazzling smile, “Flattery won’t get you out of this.” 

There was already a moving truck on the way, full of furniture and pre-approved wardrobes. Surveillance gear and a decent armory. Amren handed each of them an envelope on their way out of the conference room. Azriel peeked inside his, finding it stuffed with documents: a passport, driver’s license, and credit cards for Mr. Alexander Price. A marriage certificate binding him to Eleanor Price, and a simple gold ring. He stuck it into the folder from Agent Tiberian.

Rhys fell into step beside him, “Your cover stories, as well as everything we have on Galkin and Sokolov are in those files. Take it downstairs with you and study up between shoots.” 

Azriel blinked at Rhys, “Sir?” 

“Photoshoots,” He clarified. And when Azriel continued to stare blankly, he sighed. “We have every reason to believe Galkin and any of his co-conspirators will be just as interested in you as we are in them… at least at first. We can’t give them any reasons to keep looking into you. 

How many newlyweds do you know that don’t have pictures of the happiest day of their lives hanging up in their homes?” 

Elain was already downstairs, chatting idly with Morrigan while the blonde set her hair with hot rollers. Mor was Rhysand’s cousin, and officially a model, but Azriel knew she did this kind of thing often enough—using her connections and expertise to alter appearances or fake photo albums. Even though Rhys definitely had the resources to hire somebody else, and Mor definitely didn’t need the extra money. 

A photographer was busy setting up studio lights and hanging a chartreuse backdrop. The dusty boxes that had once been in the middle of the floor had were now arranged into something like a wall between two racks of clothing. Elain’s side was stocked with hair tools and various accessories. Mor’s makeup case was open next to a light-up mirror propped against an old filing cabinet, and a large garment bag was stuffed in the corner.

The only thing on Azriel’s side of the wall was an extremely well-made suit. And his boss. Amren inspected the label on the blazer and arched an eyebrow, impressed. When she noticed him standing there, she pulled it off the hanger and handed it to him.

“This seems…” He trailed off, not sure how to properly word what he was feeling. Azriel had done some pretty insane shit, but this might take the cake. He was holding a casefile in one hand, and an Armani blazer in the other. “Excessive.” 

“Don’t tell me a pretty boy like you is camera shy.” 

“Of course not,” Azriel frowned, although the effect was surely not what he intended, because he could also feel his ears burning. He wasn’t camera shy, he was the regular kind of shy. No, not shy. Reserved. He hated getting his picture taken—his dead-eyed I.D. bearing the proof of his discomfort. 

Azriel was ready long before Elain, and found himself pacing on his side of the partition, too afraid to sit and wrinkle the suit. He also wasn’t allowed to venture outside his corner of the basement, in an effort to keep his reaction to seeing Elain as authentic as possible. The whole thing had Azriel buzzing with a sort of nervous energy. Amren rolled her eyes, but made no effort to stop him. Instead, she wordlessly handed him the file Tiberian’s men had compiled on Koschei Sokolov. He flipped to the first page and started reading aloud to Elain. 

There wasn’t much. He was born in Russia, but raised not far from here. He’d attended a pretty prestigious university for three semesters before dropping out. Then, he dropped off the face of the earth. Or so it would appear. The web of suspected associates suggested mafia ties, but he was so far removed from everything—the deals, the kills, the shuffling of the money—it was impossible to be sure. 

“Anything else?” Elain prompted.

Azriel looked at the map of the area they’d be moving to and sighed, “We’re less than ten miles away from Whole Foods.”

“Oh, thank God.” 

Azriel’s mouth twitched, and Amren rolled her eyes again. He looked back down at the map, trying to manifest more valuable information than grocery stores and coffee chains. And to avoid making any more eye contact with Amren. He was relieved when Mor’s cheery voice announced they were ready. Azriel carefully set everything down, running his fingers over his hair one last time to make sure that cowlick at the crown of his head was submitting to the pomade.  

“Well, go on then,” Amren hurried him along, pushing him out toward the photographer’s setup. “Might as well put those longing looks of yours to use.” 

Her words were nothing more than a grumble, but Azriel nearly tripped at the sound of them. His head whipped around to face Amren, but she’d already devoted her attention to her phone. Azriel didn’t know why he was surprised—Amren had been in this field for years. Still, it felt wrong to be the subject of such vigilant observation. 

How long did he have before Elain’s carefully trained eyes saw it too? 

Just the thought of it kicked Azriel’s heart into double-time, pounding in his ears so loudly he almost couldn’t hear the hissing of fabric on the concrete floors. 

“Okay,” Elain’s voice was close behind him. “You can turn around now.” 

It was as if the dusty filing cabinets and evidence boxes disappeared, and it was just Elain. The ivory gown was simple, but the pleats at the bodice and the way it swooped over her shoulders made her look like the goddesses sculptors had once lovingly and painstakingly carved out of marble. For all he knew, he was at a gallery or a museum, marveling at the art. Even flash of the camera barely registered, Azriel’s eyes far too focused on the way the wispy fabric and loose tendrils of her hair moved with the cool air pouring from the vents above. Her smile was too big to be natural, and her eyebrows were raised in a Well, here I am sort of way. 

There she was, fidgeting with ring so ostentatious it had to have come from Amren’s personal collection. The massive sapphire was wreathed in tiny diamonds and was nearly blinding when it caught the setlights.  

“Wow.” The word was little more than a whisper. 

“I know,” Elain held her hand out to him so he might get a better look. “It’s stunning, isn’t it?” 

Azriel nodded, as if they’d been talking about the same thing. But his gaze had strayed from her left hand, tracing up her arm and across her collarbones, catching on the dip between them. He thought about saying something, about the ring or the dress or the general absurdity. Anything to fill the silence. 

The photographer did it for him. 

“Alright then!” She clapped her hands together decisively, “Elain, step in closer.” 

She was close enough to touch, and the smell of jasmine and honeysuckle overtook him. Azriel wasn’t sure if it was Elain’s perfume, or if there really was something blooming in his lungs, sweet and lovely, and making it very hard to breathe. 

“Perfect. Now Azriel, tuck your fingers under her chin to tilt her head back a little.” 

[gaiuswrites]

Thread the Needle | Yoga!Din

Pairing: Modern!Din x Yoga Instructor!Reader

Rating: Explicit (minors, goodbye)

Word count: 3.5k~

Warnings/tags: Yoga!Din (yes, he gets his own warning), hurt/comfort, language, smut, good ol' fashioned cunnilingus, piv

Notes: ✨ HI FRIENDS ✨ Yoga!Din rides again. This idea has been stewing (pun intended, you'll get it later) in my dumb brain for a while now and I've finally decided to write it. Technically, this takes place a little farther into the future (perhaps when the pair is more of an item, and less of a fuckbuddy fling, but thorough plot? We don’t know her). Anyways, enjoy! Cheers x

He doesn’t mean to be dramatic, but it’s the most agonizing sixty minutes of his goddamn life.

He’s seated on his mat, legs folded into a fucking pretzel—lotus pose, a calm voice inside his head corrects—and he’s steaming.

She isn’t here.

He is—Din, for all his faults, showed the fuck up to class but she didn’t, and in her place there’s some smelly old bat, this woman’s wrinkly ass – sits bones – plunked down at the front of the studio— occupying her spot, where she should be.

His eyes stalk the movements of this other woman as she putters around the studio—the godawful stench of something earthy wafting behind her— and it looks wrong. It feels wrong; like a violation somehow—of the space.

Of their space.

“The light in me recognizes the light in you,” they all utter in unison like a fucking hippie cult, and he books it out of there, swiping his mat up with an aggressive slap and rolling it under his arm.

“Hey,” he calls out, pacing towards the front desk. The receptionist— Riley? Kylie? Din can never remember—glances up from her phone, bright eyed.

Poor thing.

“Who the fuck is that?” He jabs his thumb over his shoulder towards the studio, the gaggle of ladies trickling out of it already gossiping and clucking away. Din doesn’t mean to sound accusatory; he doesn’t mean to be this intense. It’s not this girl’s fault, he knows that— but she’s in proximity and she’s shit out of luck.

“M’sorry?” she sputters, blinking up at him.

Breathe, that same voice coos—he can feel the tickle of it behind his ear.

“Our usual Wednesday instructor,” Din begins again, clipped. “Where is she?”

“Oh," she shrugs, "she called in sick.”

With a furrowed brow he pitches forward, craning over the desk. “Is she okay?”

The girl— Miley? —all but flinches back from him, a quizzical expression wormed onto her. “Uhm, yeah she has the flu—nasty one, too, but she’ll probably be back by ne-"

Din doesn’t linger long enough for her to finish. He’s wheeled around, striding from the building, the tinny chime of the bell ringing out as the door creaks closed behind him. The women exchange waggling glances in his wake, tittering in mouthwatering delight—more juicy fodder for their post-yoga soiree.

///

He doesn’t remember driving there. He made a quick stop to the grocery store— their grocery store, now— to pick up what he needed and before he knows it, he’s at her front door, bringing his fist down upon it in hard raps.

He hears movement—can sense it there, can practically imagine it: her lithe body tip toeing over— no, she’s got the flu, maybe it’s more of a shuffle—and peeking through the peephole. There’s a weighty pause and then—

The slow, dubious clicks of unbolting locks, the turning of a handle, the yawn of the wood as it opens.

Her voice is made small with disbelief and exhaustion. “Din?”

“Can I come in?”

She cracks the door ajar, standing in the frame of it now, a thick blue comforter slung over an arm, and she can’t quite mask the stupefied look etched onto her face.

He’s never done this. She’s never done this. He’s been to her place twice—three times, if he counts them fucking in the car in her driveway—and he’s certainly never showed up unannounced.

“Uhm, I-”

“Great.”

Din pushes past her, plastic bag swinging heavy at his side.

“W-What?”

She’s left gaping, mouth and eyes opened incredulously, ogling the way he struts through her entryway, before finally having the wherewithal to close the door. “Hey, what are you-”

“You need to keep your fluids up,” he says roughly—as if it’s obvious—making a beeline towards the kitchen.

She follows after him, bunching the throw snuggly around her shoulders. “Din,” she utters feebly, “I really don’t think you should be here right now.”

He doesn’t respond.

“Please, I don’t wanna get you sick."

He thunks the bag onto the granite countertop, producing two cans.

She doesn’t know why she bothers, it’s not like he’s listening to her anyways. If she’s learned anything about Din Djarin, it’s that he’s nothing if not stubborn—impossibly immovable. He’s tossed his jacket off, slinging it over the island, a determined glint in his eye as he prowls around the kitchen, opening cupboards at random.

“Seriously, I don’t want you catching this. I feel like shit… Oh my god, I look like shit,” she groans in realization, burying her head in the blanket, hermitting herself away.

“You look fine,” he replies gruffly, delving through the drawers in search of a can opener.

Frumpy sweats and a baggy t-shirt with some faded logo on it that’s absolutely hanging off her. Hair tossed up and sloppy, coiled into a loose bun, errant pieces rebelling every which way. A little pale, maybe. Tired eyes. Messy.

Beautiful, he meant. She looks fucking irritatingly beautiful.

Din continues to rifle through her cabinets and he exhales in frustration, “Jesus, where do you keep your pans?”

“Bottom right,” she points begrudgingly.

He grunts, finding one big enough and sets it down on the stove.

She can’t stop fussing over him; making comments here and there, asking if he wants anything, needs anything—water, kombucha, tea, a beer, a snack—if she can help in any way possible—and it nearly sends him over the damn edge.

“Would you quit it and just let me take care of you?” he grits out, and her mouth clamps shut with a pop.

She’s quiet after that, picking anxiously at a thread poking out from the blanket she wears like a shawl—observing as he empties the cans into a large pot, lights the gas stove, and brings it to a boil. She gives him space, stationing herself by the kitchen table, leaning a hip into one of the four chairs there.

Honestly she does try to keep to herself; she tries to accept what Din is doing for her, but she can’t help it. As soon as she sees him ladling the soup into one of her favorite cups—it looks so tiny in his grasp— and bringing it over to her like a goddamn patron saint, she breaks.

“You really didn’t have to do all this.”

“Yeah well, you need to get healthy so you can take your class back from that fucking fossil.”

“Din,” she admonishes.

“Baby,” he gives her a pointed look and she gnaws at the inside of her cheek, a blush blotting her clavicle. “She fucking smells. Now sit your pretty little ass down-”

“But-”

He presses a hand to her shoulder, forcing her to sink into the chair with a soft oomf, and places the bowl in front of her. “Don’t fight me on this. Drink the fucking soup.”

She huffs, glancing down, and then back up to Din.

“Progresso?”

He grunts.

She blows at the steam rising from the hot liquid. “Chicken noodle?”

Din crosses his arms over his chest and plops back onto the island.

“Classic,” she praises, mumbling into it.

She loathes to admit it, but the first sip tastes like heaven. It soothes her raw vocal chords, worn hoarse from nights of coughing, and seeps deep to warm her cold bones.

Din remains mute through the whole affair, staring owlishly as she spoons it down, slurp for slurp, until he’s satisfied she’s finished. When she does, she arches an eye brow at him— mouth pressing into a thin line. Happy now?

He tips his head and pads over to her.

“Wait, no you don’t have to-" He swipes it from the table, the spoon clanking against the ceramic rim. Din moves to the sink and she groans.

“Just leave it,” she whines, but he ignores her—stubborn stubborn stubborn— he’s already got soap on the sponge and the water running. Again, she huffs and rises to her feet, hem of the blanket trailing behind her.

“Thank you,” she gives in a hushed tone.

It’s so strange— being taken care of in her own place. She doesn’t know what to do, where to go. It’s ill-fitting, foreign, and she can only hover there, buzzing like a pesky insect beside him.

He’s wiping the dish off with a towel when he chances a peek back at her, practically stuttering when he does.

She’s swaddled in that fucking quilt, awkward and impossibly sincere and precious just standing there—watching him play house in her home. A brush of color has sprung up on her cheeks—more light in her eyes, too—and Din, try as he might, can’t pry himself off her.

She’s sick—she’s sick and gorgeous and he wants her. He wants her to feel better, he wants to fuck her, he wants to hold her. He’s overcome with it.

He swallows.

Fuck.

He abandons the bowl and rag in the drying rack and turns to her, her eyes widening, glassy and bloodshot, as he tucks a stray hair behind her ear— knuckles trailing down her jaw.

“Din…”

Her tongue skips over her lip—mocking him—damp and full and begging to be taken by his own, and her breath catches as he drags a thumb across that plump flesh, enrapt with the way her mouth parts so effortlessly for him—so fucking supple. Din’s gut twists and his blood thickens in his veins—the air between them rippling with something velvet and carnal.

He takes a step towards her. Her throat bobs.

“You’re gonna get sick,” she pouts in protest, rutting her palm into his chest, but there’s no fight in it. The blanket slips from her shoulders, hitting the ground with a dulled splat.

“Din,” she tries again, “I don’t want you to-"

He leans in, cradling her cheek, murmurs fanning over her face. “I’ll risk it.”

And he dissolves the gap, sealing her mouth with his in a tender kiss. It’s almost chaste at first, how they rove tentative and unhurried over each other—an innocent exploration— all until his tongue darts out to touch along her lip and she whimpers into him, letting Din dip into the dark cavern of her mouth. She tastes warm, like comfort and broth and rainy days, and he sighs as she brings her hands up to weave into his hair.

Neither of them fight for dominance like this—their tangle of soft sounds is perfectly balanced— Hatha; effort and ease, breath and body. He pushes, she relents—she surges forward, Din bends. They dance like this, slow as tar, until she catches his bottom lip between her teeth and tugs.

It’s like a switch has been flipped.

He seethes, inhaling sharply as his hands slide possessive and greedy down her body, grabbing fistfuls of her waist hidden under all the oversized layers, and crushing her into him. She’s making these airy noises, panting and urgent and fuck if it doesn’t tear him apart—viscerally, from the inside out.

Din walks her backwards, step for choreographed step, foxtrotting until she bumps into the kitchen table. He breaks away from the kiss to reach past her, frantically pushing away the unopened mail and receipts and loose change, the jingling of her keys cutting through the wanton quiet as they clang onto the tile, and he hitches her up to sit there with one fell swoop.

“I wanna make you feel good,” he husks, inbetween the bites he’s searing onto her neck. “Please, just lie back for me sweet girl.”

“Din, I-“

He silences her with a nibble to her ear, coaxing a breathy yelp out of her. “Lie back, baby.”

It doesn’t take much convincing after that. She acquiesces, Din’s wide palm splayed on her breasts, guiding her to recline back onto the table. He makes speedy work of her sweatpants, yanking them down her legs and flinging them off to land in a crumpled heap.

He sinks to his knees, pulling the cradle of her hips to the edge of the table before parting her thighs. The gloss of her cunt, wet and glistening for him, makes his hardening cock jump up to his stomach, and she twitches as soon as the cool air brushes against her.

“Fuck me,” he groans, whispering into her heat like he’s pained, like the sight alone is torturing him—like it’s slowly but surely ending his fucking life.

Din breathes her in with a sigh, that summer fruit tang— the scent of her aching and pulsing for him— and he starts tracing up and down her inner thigh with his tongue and teeth, nibbling along the path there until he’s at her apex. He’s dimpling her pliant skin with his calloused fingertips, strong hands wrapped under her knees, keeping them splayed as he kisses along her outer lips, nipping at her hip bones, teasing everywhere but where she needs him most.

It’s devastating—debilitating—and she’s shaking now. Every muscle, every fiber of her, convulsing with anticipation—with the promise of being dissected, of being torn apart and stitched back together again. She’s already got a hand covering her mouth, muffling the sobs he’s drawing out as he toys with her— playing her like a fucking fiddle.

Din’s eyes flit up to find her like this, brow pinched tight and cries stifled, and he chuckles— he fucking laughs— heady and ambered into her legs.

“You doin’ alright up there, teach?”

“F-Fuck you,” she hisses out with a weak whine.

God, she’s fucking perfect.

“You need something, sweetheart?” He smirks— she can feel the shape of it against her thigh, the way his stubble grates along her skin— and she can only mewl, speechless. Pathetic.

“Yeah, I know what you need...” Din hums, before finally - finally - taking mercy on her.

With one single drag, he tongues a broad stripe up her slit.

The noise that rips through her sounds like she’s being strangled— it gets caught in her throat like a trapped animal in hot car— a desperate little thing clawing to get out. Her nails scrape against the wood, leaving nicks in the chestnut lacquer. Immediately, she cants up to him, searching for his mouth hungrily and Din all but obliges as he clasps onto her hips, keeping her still while he fucks into her.

He’s carving her out— hollowing her; burying himself in her folds, nosing against her mound. He laps her up in kitten licks, delving the muscle of his tongue in and out of her, leaving her weak and gasping. Din laves up and down and side to side in clever little swivels, before he reaches her clit and sucks.

Her fist shoots from her mouth to grip his wavy locks, grinding shamelessly against his face.

“O-Oh my god, Din - fuck - Din. Oh fuck oh fuck-"

He loves it when she gets like this; that serene and tranquil exterior— the one that can quell a studio full of strangers into a haze with only the sound of her voice, that voice he can’t get out of his fucking head, the one that got them into this mess in the first place— shattered, mutilated beyond recognition and all she has left is her need— her wild, unbridled need.

Her need for his tongue, for his fingers, for his dick. Din Din Din, she only wants him— only needs him.

He slips a finger into her, easing past his knuckle in one movement, and her chin tips back, crown of her head digging into the table, hair mussing against the wood grain.

Her nipples have pebbled through her shirt, her pretty feet arched and contorted, and she’s heaving - writhing - like this above him.

He adds another digit, pumping in and out, the squelch of her pussy sounding lewd and obscene and fucking divine as he grazes her clit with his teeth, pulling at it.

“Fuck-” she rasps, legs quivering on their own accord— instinct and reflex demanding she tremble— and Din moans into her sex, feeling her walls constrict around his fingers, and he curls them up as he thrusts, hitting against that spongy patch insider her that makes her vision go white.

“Din, I- I’m—"

She can’t manage the rest. Instead of words, she cries— high pitched and wounded, as if she’s barely making it out alive. Her legs clamp around his head, bracing him there, and she cums— she loses it for him— her slick coating his nose, his lips, the hair speckled around his chin. She soaks him, and it leaves Din rocking his hips and humping the fucking air— as randy as a teenager, ravenous for anything, even if it’s just the friction of his pants drawn tight around his erection.

He takes her through her orgasm, lapping at her softly until she’s warbling—a slew of nonsense babbling out of her— and he leans back on his heels to admire his work, eyes singeing into her cunt made puffy and swollen pink, fluttering at the loss of him.

He plants one final kiss to the cleft of her pussy before shifting his weight back up to his feet, slotting himself between her.

Fuck, he isn’t as young as he once was— he feels his age in the ache of his knees. All the yoga in the world can’t erase his scar tissue, can’t undo time.

But he thinks maybe—if he’ll let himself—that she makes him feel younger. Lighter.

He squeezes her calf and begins to move away when she whimpers, bolting upright to palm greedily at the bulge pressing painfully against its constraint, her fingers fidgeting with his zipper and Din— in an uncharacteristic show of strength and self restraint— gingerly clasps onto her wrists, holding her still.

“Hey,” he murmurs, and her eyes snap up to meet his. “This isn’t about me.”

“No, but-”

“You don’t- we don’t have to-"

“Din,” she pants, grabbing onto the waist of his jeans and pressing her center into him, smearing herself along the denim there, her pearled clit catching on the rough fabric. Her eyes have gone jet-black with desire, obsidian lust burning through them. “Din, fuck me. Please fuck me, plea-“

Shit.

He’s never moved so fast in his goddamn life, unbuttoning his jeans in a flash, untucking himself— throbbing, leaking already—from his briefs. He gives himself two rough jerks, his blunt tip prodding at her entrance, before pushing into her with a gasp.

Fuck, she’s warm— not just warm, she’s hot. She’s molten, and she’s milking him for all he’s worth, gripping around him, fucking strangling his cock with how wet she is—how tight. God, she’s a fucking dream—a nightmare too, undoubtedly.

“Fuck baby - shit - you’re—hnng-” He groans—can’t even form a real sentence—all of his blood has rushed out of his brain and straight to the juncture where their bodies meet.

His eyes flutter deliriously at the feeling of her stretching around him like this and for a passing, fleeting moment, he considers the fact that he should be gentle with her— that she’s not feeling well, that she’s probably sore with body chills and God knows what else and that she should rest—

But once her knees are split apart and legs spread long— so fucking flexible, fuck she’s killing him— his well-met concern all but abandons him.

He fucks her hard— so hard she falls back, that unforgiving surface bruising into her spine. He probably hurts her a little—just how he likes, just how she loves.

Din plows into her, digging into the meat of her thighs, slamming into the pussy that takes him so fucking well, the pussy that feels like it’s made for him— like she’s made for him— and the table shudders with each roll of his hips, scraping it inch by inch along the tile, knocking against the chairs with loud, clattering bangs.

“W-Wait— wait wait wait-“ she pants, hands scampering up to his arms.

He slows his thrusts until he’s stilled inside of her, worry creasing around his eyes. “W-What? Are you okay—what’s wrong?”

“T-The table," she whines, “it’s from fucking IKEA. I built this piece of shit myself— there’s no way it’s gonna stay standing with you fucking me into it like this.”

Din barks out a laugh, throaty and genuine, and for the second time today, he comes to the conclusion that she’s perfect.

“Bedroom?” she nods down the hall.

“Bedroom,” he growls before scooping her up, lifting her off the table, her legs scrambling to hook around his waist, forearms bracing around the broad plain of his shoulders.

“Din!” she squeals in surprise, “I can walk, you know.”

“Shut up,” he grumbles, giving her a bounce and a light slap to her ass. “You’re sick.”

///

“Onions,” he mutters, leaden eyelids nestled shut.

He didn’t mean to stay over this long—well past sunset, later than he’s ever allowed himself—but how could he be expected to leave? After she came on his cock - twice - and he had filled her up until his cum was gushing from her, extricating himself out of this exact position of woven, spent limbs and sweat stained sheets sounded criminal.

“What?” She cranes groggily up at him.

“The sub. She smelled like onions. And patchouli.”

“Hey,” she tuts in mock offense, “Brenda is nice.”

“Good for Brenda. Doesn’t make her smell any better.”

“God, you are so rude,” she laughs, shaking her head as she nuzzles into Din’s side, lips curving into a sleepy grin against his chest—right above the aching thump of his caged heart.

Taglist (I apologize if I missed anyone!):

@radiowallet @pedros-mustache @djarinsbeskar @chasingdreamers @greatcircle79 @iamskyereads @imnotinlove-thisisnotyoursong @fan-of-encouragement @read-and-rec @helmet-comes-off @keeper0fthestars @hellabaybee @ourmotherofyearning @krissology

[bratkook]

rough hands. (m) jjk

pairing : tattooed!jungkook x tattooed!reader (slight fuckboy!jk)

word count : 12k, (i hate myself why cant i ever write anything shorter than 10k goodbye)

genre : (fr)enemies to lovers, smut, this is for @mygukandonly​ ty for the idea and for sharing my thirst for jungkook lmao also ps. if you read this/enjoy it pls reblog bc tumblrs tags are dead af tysm

warnings : overstimulation, dirty talk (its kinda sweet tho?), playful banter during sex, unprotected sex

summary : how is he meant to confess that he’d tear off his left arm for you if you asked when he can see the way you look at him in disgust when his nervous rambling leads to retelling the raunchy stories of girl’s past

The muffled sound of your roommate and his best friend laughing in the kitchen can be heard through your bedroom wall, a smile spreading across your face when you hear Hoseok’s telltale joyous laugh, no doubt in the middle of telling a story. 

You rake your fingers through your hair once more, fluffing it up and stepping back from the mirror to give yourself a once over, your hands tugging down on the tight dress you had on. The black shiny latex hugging your curves in all the right spots and you smirk as excitement fills you when you think of the dumb shit you and your best friend Rina were going to get into tonight.

In the kitchen Hoseok pours another shot for himself and Jungkook, the two of them energized at going out tonight as well, the video game demo they had been working on at work had gotten approved, being given the green light to move further into it so they would be celebrating tonight. The rest of his friends were set to arrive at your shared apartment for some pregame drinks before they left to their designated bar of choice.

“Y/N! Take a shot.” Hoseok shouts out when you step out of the hallway, his head peeking out by the breakfast bar to see you. He’s wearing a simple white tshirt, his colorful tattooed arms on full display as he holds out a shot glass for you to take. As you step closer to grasp it Jungkook’s eyes bulge out at what you’re wearing, he chooses to throw back his shot, letting the burn of tequila take his mind off how hot you looked. Jungkook has had it bad for you for so long, you and Jungkook have ran in the same circle since high school, not exactly friends but there was always a mutual friend linking you two together.

Jeon Jungkook has always been shameless, even at the young age of 16, when his hair was all bangs and the only thing on his mind was bands, shows, and girls. His debauchery only worsened in college when his muscles bulked up and he started experimenting with tattoos, there is nothing horny college girls love more than a man with long black hair and inked sleeves so of course he embraced it. 

The social circle you two shared slowly dwindled away after the first year of college as people dropped out, moved out of state or started a career while you finished your schooling. Because of that, you hadn’t really seen or heard much about Jungkook during your last year of college, not sure if he ever finished, dropped out or took a year off. It wasn’t until fate had you responding to a room mate needed ad that lead you to Jung Hoseok and in turn leading you right back to Jeon Jungkook, full circle.

And in that reunion it was made clear that he had stayed exactly the same, the same 16 year old mentality trapped inside a bulked out tattooed man, his new found goal being getting under your skin because he loved seeing you upset.

Your eyes meet Jungkook’s as you grab the shot glass, standing right beside Hoseok as he pours himself yet another shot. He just smirks at you, noticing your added height with the platform shoes you have on, “If you wear those shoes you can get on all the rides at Disney.”

He hides his smile behind the glass, seeing you roll your eyes as you throw back the shot, glaring at him once you swallow it, “Oh shut up, I’m normal sized, it’s not my fault you’re a fucking Titan.”

Hoseok laughs loudly at your comeback, his shoulders nudging Jungkook and seeing him fighting back a smile at your reaction, “Touché.”

The contents of the tequila bottle start to dry out so Hoseok pushes it away, opting for grabbing a cup to start making drinks to pace himself until his friends show up. You have the beginnings of a buzz warming you up, sliding out your phone to see that Rina texted you to come over, wanting to pregame as well before you went out together.

As you start texting her back your ears tune in to the story Jungkook had decided to start telling, reminiscing on the last time they had all gone out to that dive bar. His hands are animated as he tells Hoseok about the drunk girl he had his eyes on, the both of them ending up in the gross bathroom while she gave him a sloppy blowjob, stopping halfway through to puke all over the floor and how it had absolutely wounded his ego. Him and Hoseok are bent over in hysterics as you lock your phone and roll your eyes, like clockwork Jungkook had to start talking about his sexual escapades, “And that’s my cue to fuck off.”

You shove your phone into your tiny side bag as you start to walk away and Jungkook presses his lips together as he realizes once again he said something he shouldn’t have. Hoseok turns to look at you, “You sure you don’t wanna come out with us? It’ll be more fun than that fetish club you’re into.”

You laugh at him, acting as if he didn’t frequent that club as well, “Is Iseul joining you?”

He frowns at the mention of his girlfriend, getting a little sad that she would in fact not be joining him, “No, she’s got an early shift tomorrow so she cant.”

“Sorry but if she’s not there I’m not interested.” You tease with a shrug, throwing your arm up in a wave before leaving your apartment, the door slamming behind you.

Jungkook instantly sulks once you’re gone, mentally slapping himself for always managing to say stupid shit around you. He couldn’t help himself, the small crush he had spawned in high school when you were still the timid girl that wore band tees two sizes too big, and now that you had matured into this, all leather and stockings and tattoos that rivaled his, that crush had bloomed and with it came plenty of wet dreams and fantasies. 

He knew he stuck his foot in his mouth every time you two ended up in the same vicinity but his usual confident and cocky self became a nervous fucking wreck around you. His brain chose to either rile you up with mean jokes or let his mouth run on autopilot. Unfortunately the only two topics programmed in consisted of shit regarding his job as an audio engineer for video games or his raunchy one night stands. More often than not it was the latter, talking about vulgar things made you walk away, if he talked about technical shit that you didn’t know about, it left room for questions from you and more of a chance for him to embarrass himself.

He uncaps the tequila bottle again and tips it back, taking a swig from the bottle and accepting that he’d have to live with annoying you from afar.

Its not until you come home that night, absolutely hammered, while hes there that he gets the first glimpse that maybe his dreams aren’t so far fetched. He’s stood in the doorway between the kitchen and living room, the buzz of the night having left him a while ago, a bowl of cheerios in his hand that he’s currently shoveling into his mouth when you stumble in, tripping over the doors threshold as you giggle and attempt to shut it quietly as to not wake up Hoseok.

Jungkook smirks with a mouthful of cereal as you press your forehead against the door and double over in hushed laughter, no doubt remembering something stupid that happened earlier. “You okay?” He finally speaks up, scaring you, you whip around in shock and slam your back against the door, a small whimper of pain leaving you as you slide down until your butt meets the floor.

“Oh shit.” He sets his bowl down and goes over to make sure you’re okay, your body is slumped on the floor with your legs sprawled out and he forces himself to just stare at your face, a small frown on it now that you realize how drunk you are. But thanks to that, the usual dont touch me attitude you normally have is missing, letting Jungkook scoop you up by the arms. He swallows as his fingers go down to tug the hem of your dress since it had rode up from you sliding down, his fingers lingering slightly on your thigh.

Your head lolls over now that he’s holding you up and away from the wall, a small smile on your face as you stare at him, your finger coming up to gently prod at the bar he has in the center of his lip, seeing them curl up as well because fuck are you drunk.

Your eyes are having trouble focusing on him with the dim light and the two shots you took just as you left the bar finally settling into your system but you make him out just fine, the weird orange glow coming from the kitchen illuminating him enough for you to see him. “You’re really cute in this lighting.” You slur out.

Jungkook just blushes, not knowing how to respond to you because you complimenting him was not the norm. When your brain decides that your head is far too heavy to hold up it drops back, showing him the expanse of your neck and the beautiful peony you have at the side of it, just under your ear, leading up to the spot where your neck meets your collarbone and Jungkook can’t stop himself from thinking of sucking hickeys into the skin there, the purple splotches coloring the blackwork tattoo.

“Wow, you’re sloshed.” He hauls you up, the muscles on his body clearly not being for show as he carries you to your room. He flicks the light on and gently places you on your mattress, hearing you groan in protest but otherwise not moving. His hands start to unbuckle the straps to your shoes, cute leopard print platform heels with the words doll face adorning the toe strap and it was very much you.

They land on your hardwood floor with a loud thud but you don’t register it, your eyes staying shut as you shove your face into your sheets. He opts for leaving you in your dress, shoes were fine but clothing was uncharted territory so he just unfolds the fluffy throw blanket at the edge of your bed and drapes it over you. His hands turn you over until you’re on your side, a stack of pillows at your back so he knows you won’t run the risk of choking on your puke if the situation arises. When he knows you’re no longer at risk of dying he starts to get up, your hands coming to grasp his and it startles him to see your drunk eyes blinking at him softly.

Your lips are moving but he can’t make out what you’re saying so he inches closer, “Huh?”

When hes about a foot away your hands cup his cheeks and bring him in for a quick kiss, the scent of vodka filling his nose as he feels the softness of your lips, “Thank you Jungkookie.” The phrase slurs together in an almost incomprehensible sentence but he hears it as he pulls back, your eyes shutting and your hands dropping and laying limp beside you as you knock out.

Jungkook just stands at the edge of your bed, watching you sleep for a moment before he scurries out to the living room, forgetting about his cereal and collapsing onto the couch to crash, his hands rubbing his eyes almost as if he’s trying to wake himself up from the dream he swears hes in.

His night had been restless, he couldn’t even blame it on sleeping on a couch, he usually did that when he and Hoseok went out and he had to carry his best friend home. No his dreams had consisted of you and that damned latex dress, the small innocent kiss you gave him spurring him on, so he was thankful when he woke up and no longer had to be scared of you walking in on him saying some shit in his sleep.

Hes currently sprawled out on the couch, shirtless with his grey sweats on, one hand tucked behind his head as the other fiddled with his phone, scrolling through instagram and shamelessly rewatching your story for the millionth time. He just couldn’t stop replaying a video of you speaking into the camera, very drunk with a massive smile as you tried to get your friend who was in the background to face the camera, erupting into a laugh that made him smile along.

His finger presses down on his screen, pausing the video as his ears pick up the sound of a bedroom door opening, either Hoseok was up or you were. He wasn’t sure who he was hoping for but when he sees his friend walk out of his room with bedhead he wishes it was you.

Hoseok smacks his lips together a few times, his squinty eyes looking at Jungkook as he smiles, “How’d those jäger shots treat you?”

Jungkook laughs as he recalls Hoseok egging everyone on to take more of them, sitting up and ruffling his wavy hair, “I can still bounce back as quick as I did when I was 16.”

Hoseok just groans, his palm rubbing his forehead, “Wait until you hit 26.” He waddled into the kitchen and begins rummaging around, the sound of pills shaking in a container being a telltale sign that Hoseok desperately needed advil.

“Hungry?” He calls out and Jungkook hums in response, he was very hungry, he hadn’t wanted to get up and make himself food since last time he did he had mistakenly used up the last of your oat milk and you had been furious, tossing the empty carton at his head when you had tried to make yourself a bowl of cereal. “You cool with pancakes?”

“Dude you could give me a still frozen eggo waffle and I’d be grateful.”

Hoseok laughs loudly at his statement, pots and pans clanking together as he sets up and Jungkook winces, your bedroom shared a wall with the kitchen so it was only a matter of time until the noise woke you up.

It takes roughly 15 minutes of Hoseok chatting and the noise of the mixer to stir you from your sleep. Your mouth is dry and your eyes are pulsing from your headache when you fully awake, pushing yourself up from your bed you’re confused as to how you even got into it. The black dress you wore dug into your skin, the straps leaving deep imprints in your shoulders from the way you slept.

“What the hell.” You moan out, rolling your neck and staring down at the mountain of pillows that were laid out in a specific shape. Had Hoseok hauled your ass to bed last night?

The muffled sounds of chatter start back up, the smell of pancakes slipping under the crack in your door and you grin, hoping Hoseok had added chocolate chips into the mix.

Pancakes were a necessity right now, your stomach felt hollow and from past experiences if you waited too long to eat after drinking all night your hangover would last way longer, so you stand up, your sore feet aching as you shuffle to your drawers and pull out comfortable clothes.

When your door creaks open Jungkook stops talking, his fork staying impaled in the pancakes as the sound of your feet padding on the hardwood floor gets closer. Hes sat on the tall barstool facing the breakfast bar, Hoseok stood on the other side of it, both of them in the middle of eating when you finally show yourself.

Your eyes zero in on Jungkook and you frown, hes sitting shirtless, half of his back and side facing you, letting you see the swirls of black ink that cover the majority of his body. Your eyes follow the dragon that starts on his shoulder, tracing the head all the way down as its body curves and twists until the tail peaks away under the hem of his sweats, but you can’t drool over him, no matter how delicious he looked so you opt for being a brat.

“Don’t you have a home?”

Hoseok chokes on his laughter, seeing Jungkooks cheeks redden as he stares back at his plate. Did you not remember planting one on him last night? You were very drunk but c’mon, could the universe throw him a bone for once.

“Here, your stacks are over there, chocolate chips and all.” Hoseok flicks behind him, your gaze following and seeing the plate of pancakes with your name written all over it. The smile you have contrasts deeply with the look you had just given Jungkook, you were a sucker for chocolate chip pancakes.

You walk into the kitchen space and fix yourself up a plate, scooping out some of the leftover eggs in the pan and choosing to stand next to Hobi instead of sitting beside Jungkook. You’re both crammed on the small counter space beside the sink, the two of you had never gotten around to buying a dining table and always suffered the consequences so you always managed. 

You lift up the plate to your nose and inhale, sighing in appreciation, “Hoseok, Iseul is one lucky lady. Why hasn’t she put a ring on it yet?” You tease, setting the plate down and grabbing the syrup bottle to drown your pancakes in the sticky goodness.

Jungkook is blatantly staring at your plate in disgust, his eyes looking between his plate and your own, your pancakes covered in the thick syrup, the excess dripping off and pooling into your eggs.

“Jesus what.” You snap, setting the bottle down rather aggressively, sending him daggers as his face scrunches up at your food.

“Thats fucking disgusting.”

“You like your pancakes bone dry, I don’t fucking judge you so don’t judge me. We’ll see who’s laughing when you’re choking on your dry ass food.”

Hoseok just stands there as he eats his eggs, a stupid smirk on his face as you banter like children. It’s always entertaining for him, he wishes he could record every interaction because you and Jungkook were the same person, the same sick sense of humor and quick drags made for some interesting comebacks.

He can see Jungkook getting increasingly flustered as you both continue shooting insults at each other about breakfast food, the dreaded oat milk fiasco being brought up and when you point your fork at Jungkook threateningly thats when Hoseok steps in as referee. “Alright, alright children enough!”

He raises his arms up, silencing you both and forcing you to drop your makeshift weapon, “Jungkook, you know the oat milk scandal is a sensitive subject so minus 10 points for bringing it up.” Jungkook glares when you poke your tongue out at him, “And Y/N, Jungkooks right, you drowning your shit in syrup is disgusting so minus 15 points for that.” And now Jungkook is grinning at you mockingly, enjoying the shock on your face as you look at Hoseok, calling him a traitor and picking up your plate to go eat in your room since no one fucking appreciates me in this stupid house!

When your door slams shut Jungkook chuckles, his tongue prodding at his cheek as he shakes his head and resumes eating his breakfast. Hoseok holds his coffee cup next to his lip as he stares at his friend, “You two fight like a married couple.”

Jungkook’s reaction is immediate, scoffing and rolling his eyes, “She’s just annoying.”

Hoseok hums, nodding along like he believes Jungkook, “Ah, so are we both still pretending you don’t have it bad for her?”

That gets a real reaction from the younger boy, his eyes darting to the wall that you share with the kitchen before glaring back at his friend, “Dude!” He whines, his shoulders sagging, “Do you want her to hear you?” Hoseok just cackles, grabbing his dishes and placing them in the sink to start washing them. Jungkook just continues grumbling to himself, his fork clanking against the plate as he stabs his pancakes aggressively.

“Give yourself some credit Kook, she doesn’t hate you like you think she does.” Jungkook found that hard to believe, your morning greeting of accusing him of being homeless due to him always being at your place showed him how you really felt, but last night was the first time he had felt like maybe deep down you thought he was cute enough to kiss.

“Last night,” he starts off, setting his fork down, “she came home at like 4am totally wasted, I don’t even know how she managed to climb the stairs up to the front door. I carried her to bed and she uh, she kissed me.” He whispers the last part, his eyes glancing at the shared wall again, praying you were listening to music and not hearing this conversation.

Hoseok shuts off the faucet, whipping around with wide eyes, “Huh? Like coherently kissed you with tongue down your throat or like drunk peck kissed you?”

“The second one.”

The expression on Hoseoks face doesn’t comfort Jungkook, he’s pouting in sympathy, “I mean, she kisses Iseul with tongue and everything-”

“Okay but-wait what?” Jungkook stops himself from interrupting further, his interested piqued in hearing about you and Hoseok’s girlfriend making out. It was a regular occurrence, if you both got drunk enough the compliments began and before Hoseok knew it you and his girlfriend were swapping spit and then acting like nothing happened as you entered the dance floor.

His friend rolls his eyes at the look Jungkook throws at him, “Yeah, I think Iseul loves her more than me.”

“Okay well tell her to get in fucking line.” Jungkook jokes, “But no, she kissed me last night and considering she doesn’t like me within her bubble it has to mean something right?”

Hoseok pats his hands dry as he approaches the breakfast bar again, Jungkook looks unsure, his teeth nibbling on his lip piercing as he stares at him. The conversation had switched over drastically from Jungkook pretending he wouldn’t lay his body across a puddle of water for you to cross, now he looked like a nervous teenager that didn’t want to get rejected by his crush.

“I don’t know dude, you’re gonna have to say something to find out.”

Hoseok knew more than he would ever tell Jungkook, you had openly confessed to wanting to climb him like a tree only if he wore a muzzle a few months back so Hoseok knew Jungkook had a chance at least. The only issue was he wasn’t sure just sleeping with you would be enough for his friend, the crush he had been harboring was too strong for a one night stand and he wasn’t convinced you’d want the same so Hoseok kept his mouth shut, letting you two figure it out.

He tried his best to make it so you two would be around each other, always inviting Jungkook over or inviting you out with them but Jungkook never did himself any favors, he needed you guys to hang out in a different environment that didn’t require loud music and other girls so when his girlfriend suggests taking a weekend trip to her family’s lake cabin he doesn’t think twice before inviting you to join.

The weather lately had been miserable, the highs skyrocketing into the 100s so you didn’t hesitate to say yes, on the condition that you could bring your best friend with you just in case the rest of Hoseoks friends were just as immature as Jungkook was.

When the day comes you and your friend have to leave a few hours after the rest of the group does, having to wait for Rina to get off her short morning shift before you embark on the 2 hour drive. So walking into the cabin you’re met with some unfamiliar faces staring back at you from their place on the couch. You give a wave, spotting Iseul on a lounger, she smiles widely and hops up, bounding over to you and wrapping you in a hug.

“Yay, you made it!” She pulls back and greets Rina, standing beside you both and gesturing to the full room. “Guys this is Y/N and Rina.” They all wave back as she starts to introduce them in order, Jimin had red hair and a nose ring, Yoongi had grey hair and a rose tattoo on his hand, The last one to be introduced is Taehyung, brown hair and a wide smile, giving you and your friend a wave. Jungkook and Hoseok give you a wave as well, no introductions needed for them.

Due to your late arrival all the rooms have already been decided on, Jimin and Yoongi lucking out with securing the master suite but you and Rina had no complaints, grateful to have even been invited.

Now that introductions were out of the way and everyone was here Hoseok announces that hes gonna start up the grill outside to make some food. Everyone gets up to start assisting but you and Rina head back out to haul your bags in along with the alcohol and groceries you bought.

The weather is humid and gross, your skin tacky with sweat so you’re wearing the least amount of clothing you can. Already in a stringy gray bikini, a loose cut up tank top and the shortest shorts Jungkook has ever seen on you. Your tattoos on full display, the florals that cover your entire left arm, reaching your shoulder, he follows them up and over his eyes glued to the bold lines on your back that peek out when your shirt moves.

When you bend over to set down the box of drinks he stares at your ass, trailing down the soft skin of your thighs that were bare compared to the rest of your body. Tae elbows him harshly, “So thats Y/N I’m assuming?”

Jungkook grunts in response, swallowing when he sees you pull your hair up, exposing your neck and that tattoo he desperately wants to mark up, “You ever gonna make a move?”

“I don’t have the balls.”

Tae hums, “Great, well I do so see ya.” He slaps his arm and Jungkook thinks hes joking until Taehyung actually makes his way over to you, offering to help carry your bag to your room upstairs. The grateful smile you give him makes Jungkooks face twitch, you only ever smiled at him like that when you were wasted

Taehyung wasn’t actually going to hit on you, he wasn’t a cruel friend. He was just going to flirt harmlessly, give Jungkook a reason to fucking make a move. Rina is all giggles as she watches you follow Tae up the stairs, pointing towards the room you had been assigned.

As he walks in front of you, making friendly conversation you take the time to stare at him. It seems all of Jung Hoseoks friends were fucking god sent, Tae’s fluffy brown hair and kind eyes were easy to warm up to, his style more toned down than Jungkooks, only a few minimal tattoos scattered on his arms.

He sets your bag down on the bed and turns to you with his hands on his hips, “Thank you.” You mutter out, walking over to the window and shutting the blinds slightly to stop the sun from beating into the room and warming it up further.

“Yeah no problem, have you ever been here before?” He asks, making himself comfy on your bed.

“No, never. Super glad to finally have a friend who can say they have a lake house though.”

He agrees whole heartedly, the both of you making your way back out of the room and into the dining room to try to see what you could help out with.

It only takes less than a hour for everyone to gather around the table, munching on their hamburgers and hotdogs as you listen to Hoseok, Yoongi and Iseul talking about the summers they used to spend here during high school, all of them having grown up together.

“You two went to high school together also right?” Iseul speaks up when the laughter dies down, her fingers pointing between you and Jungkook. She smirks to herself when she sees the look on Jungkook’s face, swatting Hoseoks hand away from her side as he tries to pinch her for putting the two of you on the spot, he knows what shes up to.

“Oh, yeah we did.” You sigh, shaking your head as you think back to high school and all the cringeworthy things that happened. “Had a lot of mutual friends but uh, we didn’t have lake house summer hangouts like you guys did. The closest we got was backyard house shows during the summer that reeked of B.O.”

Jungkook lets out a laugh, nodding along as he remembers the shows your group would end up at. The group you had was a pretty huge on, all of the kids in your grade that liked the same music tended to bunch together and do things as a herd so even though you technically went to shows together it wasn’t one on one.

“Wait, do you remember that show the summer after high school where I dove off the stage–“

“Your dumbass always did that.”

He waves you off, determined to tell the story he sort of remembered, “I know, but this time all I remember was jumping off and then waking up with everyone huddled around me trying to call an ambulance.”

Your eyes widen as you recall the exact day he was talking about, it was a typical backyard show with too many underaged kids getting drunk off beer. Everything was set up like it normally was, a makeshift stage and amps against the brick wall with a small crowd huddled around it. The only difference was this house had a pool, an empty one, and although everyone had been cautioned to stay away, once people got hammered nothing mattered.

The crowd surrounding the stage was teetering close to the edge of the pool so you and your friend at the time chose to watch from the sidelines, and thats when a very drunk 17 year old Jungkook hopped onto the stage, wobbling onto the top of the drum kit and catapulting himself into the crowd. They had managed to catch him and started crowd surfing him back, right into the empty pool. Jungkook had been tossed into the deep end, head first and you had seen it all happen.

“There was so much fucking blood.” You shiver as you recall the group of you running into the pool to make sure he was alive. He had managed to bust his head open and as you saw him with blood dripping down his head you realized then that you really didn’t dislike him as much as you claimed you did because you really didn’t want him to die.

Jungkook throws his head back and laughs loudly, morbidly recalling how his friends had told him to go to the hospital in fear that he had a concussion or needed stitches and even though he said he was fine he was lowkey scared to sleep that night and not wake up the morning after.

Everyone laughs along, enjoying the way Jungkook turns a traumatic story into casual conversation. When Jimin asks what he did after he gained consciousness Jungkook just smirks as he drinks the last of his beer before shrugging, “I drank some more and got back into the crowd.”

You just cover your face in second hand embarrassment at the memory, a few laughs slipping out because yeah it had been slightly traumatic but also kinda funny.

“Have you changed much since high school?” You lift your head and see Taehyung had addressed his question to you and Jungkook chuckles under his breath, remembering your quiet demeanor.

It wasn’t until college that you came out of your shell, gaining confidence and experimenting with your fashion and hair colors, the tattoos covering your body increasing quickly. But Jungkook could say your personality has stayed the same, sure you were no longer timid, quick to bite back now but the personality he had found himself latching onto had stayed the same. Even when you two distanced yourselves he always thought of you, he liked to think it was fate that had you and him both knowing Hoseok.

“Definitely, for the better though.” Jungkook eyes his friend like a hawk, the small smirk on his face as he stares at you from across the table, making eye contact for a second before looking back at you. Jungkook sees the way you lean on the table, your cheeks tinting when you see the way he stares at you.

“I’d love to see photos, ya know, to compare.” The laugh you let out has Jungkook sulking. Taehyung was charming, all the girls flocking to him and usually Jungkook was the same but he turned into a jackass around you.

Hoseok sees his sulking friend and claps his hands to get everyones attention, “Alright I’m sure we’re all still sober enough to not fucking drown, lets go swim. I’m melting.”

Rina heads to the room to change since she was still in her work uniform so you wait for her on the back deck, resting on the porch rail and watching as they haul over fold out chairs and floaties to the water.

If you thought Hoseoks friends were hot fully clothed seeing them all taking their shirts off left you speechless, you stand with a wine cooler in your hand as one by one they start undressing. The only ones missing were Tae and Jungkook, both of them having been put on clean up duty.

“I wish this was a brazzers video and I was getting railed by all of them.” Your friend sighs as she pops up beside you and you just nod along, the two of you wiggling your eyebrows at each other.

“You coming?” Taehyung speaks up behind you, smiling to himself from having heard your friends statement and you two jump, your friend scattering away and saving herself from further embarrassment, she had her eyes set on Yoongi so thats who she was currently warming up to.

“Yeah,” you breathe out, taking in his shirtless body, his toned chest out in the sun like the golden god he was and then out comes Jungkook, his long black hair pushed off his face, fully shirtless in black swim trunks. As he stands next to Taehyung your mouth waters at the sight of both of them, Taehyung’s shoulders were wider than Jungkooks but the black and grey art work spanned across both of his arms and chest, leading to his back is definitely your type.

He catches you staring and smiles to himself, making a show of stretching his arm out to wrap around Taehyungs shoulders, shaking up his body, “Race you in?”

When he looks at you too you gulp down the last bit of your drink, setting down the bottle and slipping out of your clothes, not giving them a second glance as you scream out “Go!” and take off.

The dirt you run on slightly burns your feet and when you hear Jungkook and Taehyung catching up you scream, urging your legs to pick up the pace.

“Loser has to skinny dip!” Taehyung adds on to the rules, enjoying the annoyed look Jungkook sends his way, he knew what Taehyung was doing so he lurches forward until he’s right behind you.

You scream again when large tattooed arms wrap around you and haul you up and over their shoulder in a flash. You register that it’s Jungkook when you peak up and see Taehyung struggling to keep up, how Jungkook was able to carry you while also beating him had him baffled.

Jungkook would be damned if you had to strip in front of his friend so he feels no remorse, a smile stretching across his face when he hears you laughing, his hands are wrapped around your thighs just below your butt and he’s tempted to smack it but the cold water of the lake splashing onto his legs snaps him out of it.

“Fuck!” You screech as Jungkook enters the lake, the freezing water shocking you and he laughs again, sliding you off his shoulder to stand up on the lake bed.

“I didn’t expect it to be that cold.” He shivers next to you, dunking his head into the water before popping back up, his labret piercing glimmering in the sun.

Taehyung makes a show of splashing his way in, the water spraying everywhere and it has you shielding your face with a laugh, “Fucking cheater, is this your plan to see me naked Jungkookie?”

Jungkook smacks the water, the droplets spraying across Taehyungs face but he embraces it, laying back to float on the water with a smile, “No one said anything about getting naked until you spoke up, just say you wanna show off your monster cock and go.” He jokes, hearing Taehyung explode into laughter, choking slightly on the water as his head slips under from laughing.

You roll your eyes at the topic of dicks, “I don’t have a monster cock, unless you’re into that.” Taehyung teases you, trying to get further under Jungkook’s skin

“I could be.” You play along, it was now Jungkooks turn to roll his eyes, sinking further into the water until only his eyes were visible, could he drown himself here? He’s pretty sure you wouldn’t even notice if he didn’t come back up for air considering your eyes were glued to his friend. Jungkook was going to fucking strangle Hoseok for inviting him.

His eyes drift over to the right, seeing Hoseok, Iseul, Yoongi & Rina taking turns jumping off of it while Jimin floats on a flamingo floatie a few feet away. He starts to paddle his way over, not hearing any protest from you or his friend just reassures him that he made the right choice.

When Taehyung deems Jungkook is far enough he calls you closer, “Wanna know a secret?” That piques your interest, inching towards him with a curious face, “What if I told you I know someone who has a massive heart on for you.”

“Heart on?”

He laughs again, raking his hair off his face and nodding at you, “Yeah heart on, like a boner but for your heart.”

Note to self, yes all of Jung Hoseoks friends were just as immature as Jungkook was.

“I would tell you that I hope the person you say isn’t secretly married with kids.”

He floats onto his back again, his arms lazily paddling him to circle around you, “Oh no, our Jungkookie is definitely single.” He brings one hand up to cover his mouth, pretending to have slipped up.

“So what you’re saying is you don’t wanna fuck me?”

Your response is not one he expects but the way he bursts into laughter makes you smile, you had caught on to Taehyung’s antics, noting how he was friendly when you two were alone and only amped his flirting when Jungkook was present. You weren’t sure why he was using you to irritate Jungkook but if what he said was true it surprised you.

His loud laugh draws everyones attention and he rights himself up as to not choke on water again, “Like a brazzers video was it?” He teases, “He told me about your little smooch a few weeks ago.”

“Im sorry our little what?”

He wipes the water off his face, “Yeah, you came home drunk as fuck and he took you to bed and your predator ass planted one on him, with no consent. Shame on you.”

You splash water onto him, Jungkook sees it from his spot on the pier, a scowl on his face at seeing you acting playful with his friend, blissfully unaware that he was the topic of your discussion.

“Can you please grow a pair and tell her you love her.” Iseul moans out when she sees the look on the youngests face.

“Wait what?” Your friend asks and Jungkook turns around to give Iseul and Hoseok an exasperated look, “Seriously?”

Iseul just shrugs from her spot sat on the wood, not giving a damn about outing his crush in front of your friend and Hoseok just smiles, his foot planting on the center of Iseuls back and giving her a shove until she screams as she gets pushed into the water, beer bottle and all. He gives Jungkook a highfive until Iseul pops back up, her eyes full of rage as she holds up her ruined drink, “Jung Hoseok what the fuck!”

“Sorry babe, you kinda deserved it.”

Rina nudges Jungkook with her knee, her face making it very clear that Jungkook needs to fess up before she very loudly called you over. He sighs and hauls himself up until he’s standing and even though he’s towering over her Rinas face doesn’t soften, “Stop staring at me like that.” He grunts, “I just have a crush on her, its not like I confessed to something despicable.”

She crosses her hands over her chest as she stares at you and Taehyung still talking in the water and she can tell you’re not into him, you were both playful but she knew you very well, your flirting tactics not coming out to play with Taehyung but Jungkook doesn’t seem to notice this. She also knew that you’d secretly bend over for Jungkook if he ever asked but he didn’t have to know that right now, “Well you better say something cause it looks like your buddys making more progress in one day than you have the entire time you’ve known her.”

He groans in annoyance again, flicking water droplets at her face and deciding he was over this conversation, walking back to the cabin, not caring that he was dripping water everywhere.

You see him stalking away looking pissed off and Taehyung smirks, after coming to terms with the fact that you had in fact kissed Jeon Jungkook it only took a few more minutes of talking for you to also start confessing to not exactly being opposed to sleeping with him as well. Taehyung nudges your shoulder, “I swear to god if you don’t follow him I will be offended. No ones telling you to bang him, just talk because he swears you hate him.”

When you turn to glare at him he spits water at you until you’re relenting, “Fine, but if this is some sick prank I’ll shove my foot up your ass.”

“Ooh kinky.” He winks at you, laughing and beginning to paddle away when you turn and start wading out of the water. The sun beats on your back as you step out of the cold water, and you’re tempted to just go back and act like your conversation with Taehyung never happened but you’re curious now.

When you reach the back porch you hose yourself down, getting rid of any of the mud you trudged over before patting yourself dry with the towel you laid over the porch railing.

From the pier Iseul is pulling herself back up, announcing that she was about to go inside but Hoseok grabs her, all of them noticing you following Jungkook, “Fuck no, Y/N and Jungkook are the only ones in the house.”

She lets Hoseok keep his arms wrapped around her and smiles, crediting herself for being the one to push you two together and Hoseok groans, attempting to push her back into the water but she latches onto him, making them both tumble in with a splash.

You shut out their screams when you step into the house and close the sliding door, entering the kitchen and spotting Jungkook stood against the island, one of your wine coolers held against his lips. When he sees you staring at it he pulls it away quickly, “Shit, I’m sorry. I should’ve asked before grabbing one.” The last thing he needed was another oat milk fiasco.

You just shrug as you approach the island, resting your body against the granite across from him, “Nah, help yourself. Whats got your panties in a bunch?”

He sets the bottle down softly as he watches you, your hands clasped together, stretched out in front of you as you bent over the counter innocently. His teeth tug at the bar in the center of his lip, his inky strands covering his eyes but you can see his gaze peeking through, “Did I ever do anything to you for you to dislike me this much?”

You straighten up at his question, a frown tugging at your lips, you didn’t dislike him, you found him immature and he liked to push your buttons on purpose but you knew he was harmless. Obviously Jungkook didn’t know this considering Taehyung had just told you he thinks you hate him. “What, Jungkook I don’t dislike you?”

He scoffs, taking a swig of his drink with his brows raised, not believing you in the slightest, “Then why are you so mean to me when ever I’m around you.”

“Because you’re mean to me! You always say shit to get under my skin.”

Jungkook laughs at that, pushing his hair back and tossing the empty bottle into the paper bag set up on the counter, “Yeah because you’re easy to annoy.”

Your arms stretch out at his statement, “And so are you, you don’t see me moping like a baby. Besides I didn’t do anything to you out there so don’t try to pin your bad attitude on me today.”

He opens the fridge again, pulling out a water bottle instead before turning back around and staring at you, “Really, you didn’t do anything?”

You glare right back at him, walking around to meet him and snatch the water bottle out of his hands, call it even for him taking one of your wine coolers. “Please enlighten me on how I managed to ruin your day by not saying a word to you.”

Between you two running into the lake until he paddled away the only exchange you had was a curse word & Jungkook acknowledging the freezing water, where could you have possibly pissed him off.

He chooses on foregoing grabbing another water, his hands crossing over his chest, the muscles bulging out at the action but you force yourself to look away, “You objectifying my friend and talking about his monster cock isn’t you doing anything?”

You freeze from drinking the water, your cheeks ballooning out as you keep it in your mouth because what the fuck. Objectifying? You swallow the liquid, full on laughing now, theres no way he’s being serious. “You were the one that brought up his dick, are you dense?”

Okay, you had him there but he wasn’t going to admit defeat that easy, “Sure and you kept it going.”

You laugh louder at that, twisting the cap back onto the water bottle and tossing it at his chest lightly, smirking when you see him scramble to catch it, “The amount of times I’ve had to hear unwarranted stories about your dick in or around someone is fine but me joking with Taehyung is crossing a line?”

Jungkook presses his lips together, his mind repeating what everyone has been telling him all day. Tell her you jackass. “Yes because it fucking sucks hearing that shit from you.” He bites his tongue, stopping himself from blurting out the most important part, but his statement is enough to get you to believe what Taehyung had said earlier. Did Jungkook actually have a heart on for you?

“Why, are you jealous?”

“Yes.” He admits almost immediately, his response catching you both off guard, but the smirk on your face only gets bigger. Jungkook is wary of your reaction, not exactly fond of the way you look like you just caught your prey. When you reach out, your fingers gently touching his shoulders his wariness only deepens.

“Why would you be jealous about me wanting to fuck your friend?” Jungkook says nothing, your fingers continuing to trail up and down his shoulders softly and he likes the feeling of you touching him, wanting to lean into your touch but he’s not sure if you’re fucking with him or not. “Who knew all it would take was one kiss for Jeon Jungkook to get possessive.”

He blanches at your sentence, “Wait you remember?”

“Of course I do,” you lie, not wanting to tell him that Taehyung had been the one to remind you. You wanted to see how far you could push him until he admitted to something. The typical Jungkook you were used to was the one who went to bars and clubs and managed to score a handful of girls numbers before taking one home, the countless stories you’ve heard being proof of that. The Jungkook stood in front of you did not live up to the reputation you had seen.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

“I mean you were wasted so I just didn’t think you’d remember...” he trails off, unconsciously stepping back until hes pressed against the fridge.

“You wanna refresh my memory?” You’re half teasing him, half serious, enjoying seeing Jungkook looking like he’s about to explode.

He doesn’t get a chance to respond, the sound of the sliding door making you take a big step back before looking over. Jimin had his head peeking through the opening, a small grimace on his face as he realizes he interrupted something, “Sorry, we’re gonna go tubing if you guys wanna join.”

Jungkook hopes you say no because he can’t find the balls to speak up but you nod instead, turning to face Jungkook again, “Maybe later then.” Is all you say before turning around and following Jimin back out to the lake.

He watches you leave, bending over the island and groaning into the granite, where had that come from and why was he kinda into the way you spoke to him? Jungkook stands back up, taking a gulp of his water and following after you and Jimin.

Even when you’re all gathered on the boat, Rina being dragged in a giant circle tube beside Yoongi the both of them screaming, he can’t get your conversation out of him mind. His eyes focused in on seeing you laughing hysterically as you record your friend, a smile spreading across his face because your laugh is contagious.

When you hop onto the tube next, dragging Taehyung with you to further egg Jungkook on, Jimin slides over beside Jungkook and sighs, “Sorry about barging in earlier.” Jungkook just shakes his head, telling him not to worry about it, he didn’t mind it. Your words had spurred him on and all he wanted to do now was rip off that lifejacket you wore and take you in front of his friends but he knew no one would appreciate it.

Later in the night everyone gathers inside and does their own thing, a few people playing board games while you retreat into your room, feeling sluggish from the water and sun so you sleep through the dinner everyone eats.

When you finally emerge from the room, your hair damp from your shower you find the living room dimly lit and empty, the clock above the stove letting you know it was 9 at night. There was two plates left out on the counter, wrapped in foil and you knew it was meant for you. As you near it you see the scrap of paper next to it, Iseul’s handwriting standing out.

Left on a hike to go stargazing, text us when its clear to come back.

You frown at the message, what did she mean by that?

Regardless you peel back the foil and smile at the food she had left for you, popping it into the microwave and picking yourself up to hop onto the counter as you wait.

When you slip your phone out and start to scroll through your socials the sound of footsteps coming down the stairs scares you, your eyes flicking up and seeing Jungkook trudging down, a baggy crew neck on him and his face looking flushed from the sun hitting it.

“You didn’t go on the hike?” You ask as he approaches you slowly, his face looks sleepy and you can tell he also took a nap from the way his eyes blink at you lazily.

“Hike?” He rasps out, his hand ruffling up his already messy hair, a small frown on his face from the foggy feeling he still had from just waking up.

“Yeah,” you hum, pulling out your plate and starting to eat it on the counter, “they left on a hike or something. Theres a plate there if you haven’t already eaten.”

He looks at where you’re pointing and he smiles when he sees it, his eyes also spotting the note left and skimming it. His friends were such instigators.

He lingers behind you, torn between eating or doing something to you. You’re hunched over the counter, your legs rocking you against it as you happily much on some of the roasted potatoes. His eyes lingered on your legs, your skin still exposed in a loose pair of cotton shorts, a baggy tshirt hanging off your shoulder and letting him see the tattoo of a bee hovering over a sunflower.

You can feel him stood behind you and you freeze, looking over your shoulder at him with your brows raised, “Why are you standing like that?”

He shakes his head, relaxing the stiff way he stood and leaning against the counter instead, flicking his hair out of his face as you keep staring at him. “Just thinking about what you said earlier.”

You pop a piece of chicken in your mouth as you hum, “What did I say?” pretending to act confused, a smirk curling up on your lip when you see the deadpan look he give you as he pushes off the counter.

The nervous Jungkook from earlier is gone, the shock from you egging him on earlier had passed and it just solidified that he wanted to have you. “About me refreshing your memory of our little rendezvous.”

You laugh at his term, setting your fork down to fully turn to him, “Do you want me to kiss you again?”

He smirks at you, now standing a foot away from you, your back pressed against the counter as you craned your head up to stare at him, “Among other things.”

“Other things?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, his hand reaching out to cup under your chin gently, “I’d like to bend you over this counter and fuck you until you’re crying. If you’re into that.” He smiles at the small gasp you let out, your eyes gleaming with desire at his words. You had thought you had the one up on him earlier but his change was a welcomed one, you wanted to experience the Jungkook you had heard about, rough and cocky.

You rest back onto your elbows as you stare at him, letting his thumb rub under your lip, “Oh really? Are you all talk?”

Jungkook scoffs, dropping his hands to cage you between him and the counter, his head dropping down a bit until your noses nudged together. “No, I always deliver.”

You don’t get a chance to respond, his head tilting slightly until your lips are together, the cold bar of his piercing pressing against you. Jungkook feels you relax into the kiss, glad that you weren’t pushing him away like he always swore you would. When he tests the water, gently licking his way into your mouth you groan, your hands coming up to clutch onto his sweater to tug him closer until his leg is between yours.

Kissing Jungkook felt natural, maybe it was the pent of sexual frustration you two had apparently had with one another but you just wanted to get to it. You drop one hand to trail down his thigh, palming his growing erection through his sweats.

He groans, pulling back from the kiss to rest his forehead against your, his soft breaths hitting your face as you continue to stroke him. “Feel that?” He hums softly, “Just wanna fuck you.”

You laugh gently, kissing his neck and feeling him roll his hips into your grasp, “How are you supposed to make me cry when you’re this needy?” Your teeth nip his skin, his hips stuttering when you do.

Jungkook just chuckles, the sound continuing when he trails his own hand down until hes dipping into waistband of your shorts, his fingers coming into contact with the wet spot on your underwear, “Keep it up.” He warns, “I’ll remember that in a bit.”

Your hands tighten their hold on him when he pushes your underwear aside to touch you directly, his fingers teasing your skin softly until he’s rolling your clit in a tantalizing manner. When you drop your head back and glare at him he just smiles, “Who’s needy now?”

“Still not crying.” You bite back.

Jungkook looks at you with his brows raised, new set determination on his face as he nods, stepping back from you and hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and underwear, tugging them down your legs in a flash.

The cool air inside hits your wet folds and you gasp, kicking your discarded clothing aside on the floor and letting him drop to his knees in front of you. His long hair falls in front of his eyes, his hands grasping the top of your thighs to slide your legs apart with a grin.

He can see you wanting to speak up so he beats you to the punch, his nose nudging into your clit as he teasingly dips his tongue in between your folds to lick a broad stripe up. You let out a shuddered laugh, your hands reaching down to tangle in his head when he spreads you open with his fingers and starts to eat you out like a man starved.

Your eyes shut, your head falling back at a particular hard suck he gives your clit, his tongue going back to circle around your entrance to lap up your wetness. He groans at the taste of you, your hands tugging at his hair when he falls into a rhythm that has you quivering.

He slips two fingers into you, the feeling of your walls clamping down on him making him moan in anticipation of how you would feel around his cock.

Just like Jungkook is in every aspect of his life, he’s shameless in the way he pleasures you, the sounds of him slurping against you in combination with his fingers thrusting into you has you hurdling towards the edge faster than you’d like to admit.

You rest your weight on your elbow behind you, feeling your legs start to tremble and Jungkook notices, his arm wrapping around your thigh to help stabilize you. He can’t even get himself to gloat at having you fall apart this quickly, instead he enjoys you rolling your hips into his face, tugging his hair hard, your inner walls spasming as you reach your climax.

“Oh fuck.” You moan out, squeezing your eyes shut as your whole body is lit up, Jungkooks tongue continuing to flick your clit as you cum, his fingers slowing down slightly as you come down.

He can hear you breathing harshly, your fingers gently raking through his hair while he gives your pussy one last kiss before hes standing back up. His mouth and chin are covered in your arousal, his hand tugs up his shirt to wipe at his face, peeling it off his body and tossing it carelessly onto the floor.

“You’re not crying but its a start.” He mumbles out, his eyes trailing over your face as you stare at him fucked out. His talk was true, the small tidbits you’ve heard of him being able to make girls cum in record time hadn’t been a lie to boost his ego.

You look between you both, seeing his cock tenting in his sweats and you smile as you reach your hand into them, wrapping around his heavy length. He sees how your eyes widen at his size, you can tell he’s big and you haven’t even properly seen it yet.

When you tug them off you marvel at his size, big dicks would forever be your weakness and of course he’d have one. “I really wanna suck your dick,” you start, a small smile creeping up on your face as you give his cock a small pump, “but I’m not trying to barf my dinner up on the floor. Can’t have two girls puking over your dick in your lifetime right?” You knew his dick would make you choke and if you hadn’t just eaten you wouldn’t care, but barfing was definitely not a kink of yours.

Jungkook rolls his eyes, a laugh escaping his lips, “You’re the worst.” He shuts his eyes as you both start to chuckle. Jungkook doesn’t care, he was trying to make you cry, he didn’t need to have his dick sucked to do that.

“Its not just my height thats Titan size huh.” He jokes, laughing harder when you release his dick and groan, your faux annoyance being shown when you let him slide your shirt off of you, his hands coming up to cup your exposed breasts.

“No, I am not calling your dick Titan sized.”

“Oh no?” He asks, stepping closer until his length is pressed between your folds, a slow thrust starting that has you groaning, “This Titan dick can make you feel real good though.” He can barely utter out the sentence until he’s laughing again, burying his head into your neck at how stupid he sounded.

“You’re insufferable, I swear if you have an attack on titan fantasy I am walking away.” He lets out a playful whine, his mouth latching onto that tattoo he always wanted to kiss, his tongue softly licking at the skin as he sucks it, pulling back and humming when he sees the purple splotch in between the petals of the peony.

“I’m not that big of a weeb, can still make you feel good tho.” He mutters giving your lips another kiss, feeling you smile against him, your hands pushing him back by the chest.

You turn around, bending over the counter and shaking your hips slightly, “Show me.”

He bites his lip, his eyes staring at the slick coating your pussy, trailing down your thighs and he feels his dick twitch, not needing to be told twice. Jungkook presses his length against you, rutting between your folds, the both of you sighing as he coats his dick in your wetness.

“Remember, I wanna see you crying.” Is all he says before he’s pushing into you, the tip of him slipping in and he marvels at the way you spread around his girth as he thrusts further into you, a small moan leaving you when he bottoms out.

You wanna tell him that you won’t be crying tonight but the way he fills you up has you seeing stars, his dick nudging all the right spots inside of you so all you can do is tighten your walls around him and gasp for him to move.

Jungkook grasps your hips, his thumb tracing the outline of your back tattoo as he pulls back and starts a slow pace, determined to find the rhythm that has you falling apart.

When your hands grip the counter in front of you, helplessly trying to find purchase, your fingers knock into your dinner plate and swipe it into the sink beside you but you don’t register the noise and Jungkook grins when he hears the loud moan coming from you when he dick hits the back wall of your cervix.

You’re still sensitive from your last orgasm, so the feel of his thick cock stretching you open has you keening, your hips rutting back to meet his thrusts that have grown in speed, “Who’s needy now huh?” He grunts out, loving the sound of your skin slapping together, “Trying to fuck yourself on my cock, maybe you should do all the work then.”

When his hips still you whimper, twisting your head around to see him giving you an evil smirk, “Go on.” He urges, guiding your hips with his hands to get your started.

A heavy sigh fills the air as your hands press firmly onto the counter to ground yourself as you start to rock back onto him, a slow start until your need to cum again takes over and you speed up your movements.

“Good girl.” He praises, his hand reaching forward to push your hair over your shoulder, his hand trailing down your spine until it reaches your ass, his hand palming your flesh as he groans when he locks into the view of his dick, seeing the way you’re creaming on it.

The sweetest moans reach his ears, he can feel the way your velvety walls tighten around him further, “Fuck Jungkook.” You moan out, you can feel the sweat building up on your skin from exertion and he takes sympathy on you, knowing you want to cum again.

He leans over a presses a kiss against your shoulder before he takes over again, resuming the brutal pace he was pounding you with earlier and you sigh in relief, fully slumping forward and letting him have his way with you.

“You feel so good Jungkookie.” You breathe out and he smiles as he lets his hand slip around to your front, his fingers finding your clit again and the contact has you moaning again. His rough hands helping you reach your peek again, “Oh my god, don’t stop.”

He doesn’t plan on it, loving the way you’re clamping down on him and mumbling nonsense into the cool granite, “Don’t worry, I got you.”

With a few more thrusts you’re falling apart, pressing your forehead against the counter and moaning his name out louder than you thought was possible. Your friends made a good call vacating the house because there was no way you’d be able to keep quiet.

“Thats it.” He coos, pulling his hand away from your clit without slowing down his pace. Your legs felt like jello, glad you had a place to rest on while he continued to jackhammer into you. The first signs of overstimulation started to prick into you, small whines leaving your lips and Jungkook takes notice.

He pulls out of you slowly, his hands grasping your hips to turn you around. Your body is pliable in his hands, letting him move you and haul you up onto the counter, your feet dangling off the edge and a hazy smile on your face.

He presses another kiss against you, letting your tongues tangle together as he grabs your arms and wraps them around his neck, coming back down to hook under your thighs as he slides back into you.

The way you groan into his mouth makes his cock throb, your soaking entrance letting him glide right into you, “Hurts.” You whine out softly when he starts to thrust, not sure if you’d be able to handle another orgasm but Jungkook shushes you softly with another kiss.

“You can do one more for me right baby?” He asks, sucking on your lower lip as he rocks into you slowly. His eyes are half lidded and you can feel how hard he is in you, your body still trembling slightly from your last orgasm but you nod anyways, letting him kiss his way down your face until he reaches your neck again, soft praises leaving his lips.

Your fingers tangle into his hair again as you slump against him, letting him hold you up. You trail along his tattoos, tracing the giant death moth spanned across his collarbone, the tip of the wing reaching the bottom of his neck.

He’s grunting softly against you, getting lost in the feeling of you, the added touches and kisses you plant on his skin igniting the fire inside him. His arms scoop you closer, his hands spreading against your lower back as he speeds up his thrusts, your legs still wrapped around his arms.

The way his dick curves inside you has you moaning again, the pleasure creeping back up and your head falls back as you feel the pressure building again. You’re not sure you could handle coming again but Jungkook seems determined to get you there, rolling into you, the feeling of his pelvis rubbing your clit is too much. Your hands cling onto his back, your fingers digging into the flames and dragon that occupied the space.

“Fuck I can feel you squeezing me.” He gasps out, “You can cum again sweetheart its okay.”

You squeeze your eyes shut, hearing him grunting into your ear, his voice dropping into a gravel as he nears his edge as well. You’re clinging onto him for your life, gasping loudly when you reach your third orgasm of the night, the force of it making your mind go blank.

You don’t tune into to the small shriek of his name, the growl he lets out when you tighten around him tighter than before, his hips rearing into yours in a sloppier way until he’s cumming, hips surging forward to bury himself deeper into you as his cock twitches.

You come back when he moans your name out, the feeling of his cum filling you up making you mewl against him. He thrusts shallowly a few more times before pulling out with a sigh, letting your legs fall limp over the edge.

His cum drips out of you, slipping through your folds and down your ass until it pools onto the counter beneath you and he smirks, his eyes coming up to look at you and his expression gets bigger when he sees the tear streaks on your cheeks. His hand cups them, his thumb sliding across your face and wiping them with a laugh, “I told you I’d make you cry.”

You don’t have it in you to be the usual brat you are with him, not after cumming this hard three times in a row so you just pout at him and lean forward to kiss him again, this time being more gentle and slow paced than the last.

“How was that?” He mumbles against your lips, letting you pull him in to you, wrapping your arms around his tiny waist as you nuzzle into his chest.

Jungkook feels you laughing against his skin, “How was that?” You mock as you give him a squeeze, “Let’s just say I’ll cry over your Titan cock any day.”

The both of you burst into laughter, Jungkook pressing a kiss onto the top of your head as you two just stay there. Jungkook and you had officially crossed the line from being bratty friends to sleeping with each other. Neither of you knew what it meant but it seemed like a conversation for tomorrow morning, right now you were content with just holding him.

So when your phone vibrates beside you you’re reluctant to pull away, so Jungkook compromises by reaching it for you and handing it over.

You see its a message from Iseul and you unlock it, your face heating up as you groan and show the message to Jungkook, his face turning just as red as he sees what she sent.

Iseul 10:15pm : Thank you for the show, I hope you two realize we have security cameras in the kitchen and living room you horn dogs.

The two of you peek over at the corner of the room giving a wave and smiling shyly at the blinking security camera staring back at you. Maybe she could send you the footage for keepsake.

[tinyboxxtink]

“Sharky” *Part 11*

Oh yeah, this series is going to be THE longest series to date. I’ve still got a decent amount of plot I want to get through. 

Note: Yes, this is “Undiscovered Country” territory. But let me assure you, the ONLY things that this story will have in common with that episode is what Barba actually did, and the verdict. How we get there, that’s gonna be a very different and VERY bumpy ride.

And away we go!

Chapter List  Part 1

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

Part 6

Part 7

Part 8

Part 9

Part 10 

Part 12

Tag List:

@wanniiieeee​

@dumauier​

@word-scribbless​

@gibbs274​

@objection-argumentative​

@aprildecker-blog​

@chasingeverybreakingwave​

======

You walked into the small courtroom made for hearings/pleas, your head held high. It wasn’t very full, some of the yahoo’s from the SVU, the kid’s parents you assumed, some reporters who had heard about the “Fallen ADA”. Vultures.

“Your honor my client would like to change his plea,” You walked right up to the judge’s stand without so much as looking over at the State’s side.

“Excuse me?” The judge asked, looking at Rafael who was standing behind you at the desk. “Is this true, Mr. Barba?”

“Yes your honor, I’d also like to change counsel to Miss Y/L/N here,” Barba nodded.

“Objection your honor,” Stone argued, walking up to the judge’s stand. 

“Oh what grounds?” The judge raised an eyebrow.

“Miss Y/L/N and Mr. Barba have been in a relationship, it’s a conflict of interest,” He snarked.

“Your honor, I can assure you 100% that Mr. Barba and I have NEVER been in a ‘relationship’ of any kind, even Detective Benson can attest to that, can’t you?” You glanced back to her.

“It’s true your honor, they’ve never been in a relationship,” Olivia agreed while ignoring Stone’s glare.

“We had ONE very unfortunate sexual experience, if anything we hate each other your honor,” You added with a smirk. You could just feel the glare coming from Rafael into the back of your neck.

“Well, if that’s true then why are you choosing to represent him?” The judge asked suspiciously.

“Because it’s the right thing to do, your honor,” You said earnestly. “I may be an aggressive bitch, but I’m not a monster. Mr. Barba didn’t do anything wrong and--”

“HE KILLED MY SON!!!!”

“Oh shut up, you Pro Life Piss Ant!” You spun around and yelled at the father.

“Mr. Barba, control your counsel,” The judge warned.

“Right,” Barba came up next to you and pulled your arm leading you to the desk.

“As I was saying,” You huffed, throwing daggers with your eyes at the disrupter.  “Mr. Barba did nothing wrong and--” 

“Actually Miss Y/L/N,” The judge interrupted you.

“Can I not finish a sentence?!” You muttered to yourself, Barba nudged you to shut up.

“As far as whether or not he did anything ‘wrong’ is for a jury to decide,”

“Exactly, your honor,” You nodded. “With a TRIAL, which my client would like,”

“He can’t do that! He already admitted to killing my son. He can't take it back!!!” The man was yelling again.

“Sir, I have zero qualms of sitting overnight in a jail cell for beating the absolute SHIT out of you,” You snapped, causing several people to gasp and chatter, the judge banged his gavel. 

“MISS Y/L/N, I will hold you in contempt!”

“He started it!!!”

“Yeah and it looks like I finished it,” You heard him chuckle. You started to make a break for it over to him to make good on your promise,  but Barba grabbed you by the waist.

“Alright I’m ending this madness before it gets out of hand,” The judge sighed. “Court will convene next Friday at 9 am,” He slammed his gavel and the man’s wife quickly hurried the man out of the room before you could duke it out. 

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” Barba hissed at you.

“Me? That prick called you a murderer, Raf--Barba,” You tried to keep it business, no emotion, Keep calm. That was going to be hard with Olivia stomping up to the two of you.

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” She barked.

“I’m sorry, did you not HEAR that bastard--?” You started a quip but were cut off by the detective.

“He’s the VICTIM!!!” It took a few seconds for it to register, but Olivia quickly realized what she said, looking at a shock and hurt Rafael. “I mean, he’s--” 

“...And then the sky opened up and God said ‘Blessed be, Y/N,” You grinned, causing both of them to look at you in confusion.

“Now what are you on about?” Olivia asked, afraid of the answer. 

“Well Olivia, for the VERY first time, I can say-- you’re not just my enemy anymore, you’re Rafael’s enemy too,” You smirked, using his first name to really rub it in. 

“What? No, I’m not--”

“Really?” You scoffed with a laugh. “Would you like to repeat what you just said? Because I’m sure he is right now, over and over,” You nodded to Rafael who was still standing there with a hurt expression.

“Rafa you know I didn’t mean it like--” She went to put a hand on his shoulder but he moved back from her.

“Yeah, Liv,” He chuckled snidely. “I think you did,”

“And,” You added as you stepped in between  them, protecting Rafael from her. “Regardless of your ‘feelings’,” You used air quotes with a sarcastic tone. “Your department is handling this case, is it not?

“....Maybe…” Olivia mumbled, looking over at Stone who was clearly waiting on her.

“Right,” You nodded. “So please, believe me when I say this” You got up in her face. “If you so much as even explain pleasantries with my client, I’ll have you arrested for trying to tamper with my case,” 

“I...You...Rafa…?”  Oliva stammered.

“Just...go, Olivia. Please,” Barba muttered sadly.

“Okay...I’m so sorry,” Olivia whispered with tears in her eyes as she walked away. You held back the urge to vomit in your mouth right there. You turned to give Barba a triumphant smile, but his pained expression almost looked worse than it had.

“Oh what now, droopy dog?” You crossed your arms.

“Thanks a lot,” He scoffed.

“You know you’re saying the right thing but not in the right tone,”  You raised an eyebrow. “You should be thanking me for sticking up for you!”

“Sticking up for me?” He chuckled dryly. “By making an ass out of yourself? How do you think that makes me look?!”

“Oh come on Barba there were no jurors there--”

“But there were reporters! And what’s it gonna look like when the headline reads ‘Baby Killer’s Lawyer Calls Grieving Father a ‘ProLife PissAnt,’?”

“It doesn’t matter what I say, people don't have to like me, they have to like you!” You argued.

“Bullshit!” He scoffed with a sarcastic laugh. “Bullshit and you KNOW that!”

“Look I am the ONLY one here who knows you did nothing wrong--”

“Maybe I did!” He blurted rather loudly, then hushed his tone. “Maybe I did do something wrong,”

“Oh, uh uh, nope,” You wagged a finger and took him by the arm, into a corner of the courthouse. 

“Look, Ba--Rafael,” You put both of your hands on his face and used his first name in a softer tone. “It doesn’t matter what Liv thinks, or what her labradoodle Stone thinks, it CERTAINLY doesn’t matter what that dad thinks,” You looked into his green eyes. “They can all think you’re the devil, and it wouldn’t matter. But the SECOND you start questioning your own innocence, this whole thing is going to fall apart,” 

“Which is why I just wanted to take a punishment,” He looked down at the floor.

“Punish--for WHAT?!” You exclaimed with a confused look. “For unplugging a machine? Barba if that was illegal we’d ALL be in prison right now,” 

“Look I know you may not care about human life but--” Rafael started but you cut him off. 

“Uh uh. Nope. We’re not getting into this, but that ‘thing’?” You rolled your eyes. “That ‘thing’ was not a human being. And I’m gonna prove it,” 

“How are you--”

“Spoilers, darling,” You smirked.

“Look...whatever ‘technicality’ you’re planning on using in court doesn’t make me feel any less guilty, okay? And you just took away the very LITTLE comforting support I have, so just--”

“Comforting support?!” You laughed sarcastically. “Oh right, because Olivia Benson calling you a murderer must have been SO comforting,”

“Look, Y/N. She’s still my friend. She would hold me and hug me and tell me it was okay, even if she did have a momentary lapse,”

“Oh that is SUCH--” You scoffed angrily. You grabbed his hand and stormed off towards the other end of the courthouse with him lagging behind you.

“What the hell?” He muttered, trying to keep up with you. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Well I am not about to do this with all those reporters just waiting for a juicy story,” You rolled your eyes as you spotted your destination. A sign read RESTROOMS-- It was a long dark corridor to the actual restrooms, and first up was a huge “room” labelled “FAMILY BATHROOM.”

“Get in,” You instructed him as you gave him a shove. You looked around to make sure no one had followed you and no one had seen you as you locked the door and turned to see a very confused Rafael.

Finally, when you were absolutely sure that you were safe from any sort of prying eyes, you dropped your act. Tears stung your eyes as you practically jumped into Rafael’s arms and kissed him, HARD. Caught off guard he stumbled for a moment, but then wrapped his arms around you so tight you could barely breathe; but you didn’t care. This was the first time you had kissed him, or any guy really, with actual feelings behind it. Real, true, deep feelings for each other. And it was blissful, just for that brief moment.

After several moments of you just standing there in his arms and crying into his shoulders, you pulled back and hit him on the chest. 

“How could you be so STUPID?!”

“I’m sorry, what is happening here Mrs. Hyde?” Rafael asked.

“How could you let that bitch manipulate you to do her dirty work?” 

“Wha--” Rafael’s eyes darted from you to the door to the distance, trying to figure out what was going on. “I’m sorry, were you trying to comfort me or punish me?”

“I don’t want you to go to prison for something someone ELSE should have done!” You started crying again. Rafael’s eyes softened as he realized your rage was masking your fear and sadness. 

“Carino, I…” He put a hand to your face. “I’m sorry,”

“You don’t have to be sorry about it, that’s my point,” You rolled your eyes with a sniffle.

“I mean, I’m sorry for everything else,” He looked into your eyes with sincerity. “I mean, I can’t believe after everything I’ve done to you, or that we’ve done to each other, that you still came down here and want to fight for me!” 

“Yeah well….” You looked at the floor with a small smile. “I guess I do have a heart,”

“And it’s mine,” He took your face by the chin to look back up at him.

“Excuse me?” You half laughed.

“Say it,” He smiled.

“Ok fine I lo---no, you know what? No,” You shook your head.

“No?”

“No, I think I have told you how I felt MORE than enough since we’ve known each other, you haven’t said anything!” You threw your hands up.

“Wha-- I saved you from suffocating in that alleyway!” He argued. “I broke up with Liv for you, I-I-I BEGGED you to stay with me! On my KNEES,” He scoffed with a laugh. “You ever hear the phrase ‘actions speak louder than words?” 

“Yeah no that saying is bullshit,” you shook your head.. “Words are louder than words. And if I’m going to hear those words for the first time I want to hear them from you,”

“Wait…” he blinked. “For the first time? EVER?” 

“Oh God...here we go,” You scoffed, breaking from his embrace.

“Here we go, what?” 

“I can just see the look in your eyes,”

“And what look is that?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Like you’ve just solved a riddle,” You shook your head with a small sad smile. “Like now you’re thinking ‘oh THAT’S why she is the way she is! Because nobody loved her as a kid!’,”

“No that’s not--”

“It totally is! You’re probably so relieved that’s there an actual reason that I’m so broken inside, that I wasn’t just BORN evil,”

“Hey,” This time he took your head in his hands. “You are not evil and you are NOT broken,” 

“Yeah, I am,” You muttered softly as you looked at the floor again.

“Well then I will make it my mission to put you back together, Sharky,” He moved your face back up and kissed you gently. Your soul lit up at the sound of your previously resentful nickname. Now it sounded like the highest compliment coming out of his mouth so playfully.

“Yeah well first I have to fix this,”  You gestured back towards the courthouse. 

“Well, I’m sorry about that too,” He apologized sadly.

“You don’t have to be sorry, Rafael! You didn’t--”

“Look, baby I get that you don’t think so, and maybe technically it’s true, but I still feel guilty,” He shrugged.

“I just…” You sighed and pulled him back into your body. “I don’t want to watch you hurt like this,” 

Rafael had no idea what to say to that kind expression, so he just pulled back into him and kissed your forehead. You let him hold you for just a moment, and then started to unlock the door. But something inside made you pause, and you let go of the door handle to face Rafael.

“...What is it, Sharky?”

“Look, Rafa,” You told him seriously. “We need to establish boundaries, right here and now,” 

“Boundaries?” He asked.

“Distinction,” you clarified. “This girl,” You gestured to yourself. “This girl right here in this bathroom, is ‘Sharky’,” 

“Which is why I just said that,” He joked.

“Yeah but,” You put a hand on his chest. “When we walk out of here, I’ll be just the shark defending you,”

“Meaning…?”

“Meaning,” You took a deep breath. “You’re not going to like what I do in court, I already know that,”

“Y/N come on don’t lie for me--”

“I’m not going to lie,” You assured him. “But I am going to be aggressive with facts, and probably mock all emotion involved in it,”

“...I already don’t like this,” He had a worried look on his face.

“Yeah, baby I know but…” You took his hands in yours. “Do you want to be NICE, or do you want to go HOME, and not to prison?”

“Home, I suppose,” He mumbled sadly.

“Exactly,” you kissed his cheek. “Look the parents brought this on themselves, if they can’t deal with the shame that’s not on me, or you,” 

“What? Y/N you’re not going to go after the--” He tried to argue with you, but you put a finger to his lips. 

“No, I’M not going to do anything,” You reminded him. “But the shark will do anything to keep you from going to prison,” You pulled him into one last passionate kiss, knowing it would have to last you for a bit. You unlocked the door and turned to him one last time and added:

“By any means necessary,” Before sauntering out the door.

This trial should be fun….  

[blxwjobsforclones]

Bad - Rex x Reader x Wolffe

Warnings: Smut, dirty Talk, phone sex, double penetration, unprotected sex.

Tags: @littlevodika @hxldmxdxwn @maulieber i promised, babies.

Words: 4680 (BROO)

Requests are open

Please, reblog c:

.....................

It was late. An insane hour for you to be awake and thinking the thoughts that were wedged into your brain. But there you were, laying in bed, willing away the scandalous thoughts of the things you would do to your boyfriend if he were home with you. As luck would have it, he was away on a mission, lone wolfing it and leaving Rex and Wolffe to look after you while the others were working on their own separate jobs. You assured him that you'd be fine and didn't need 'looking after'.

"You never know when you might need something, Y/N." He warned you. So instead of dragging it out and making a big deal out of nothing, you let it roll off of your back.

You hated when Fives made you stay home instead of assisting him on cases. He undermined your abilities and babied you. Even though you knew his intentions were good, it still irked you. But above all, what you hated most was the agreement that he constructed.

"Tell it to me one more time, baby doll." He requested. You rolled your eyes and sighed before reciting the one rule you couldn't bend or break.

"No touching myself while you're gone." Fives smiled, clearly satisfied with your reply. He bent down to kiss you on the forehead and stroke your hair.

"These two weeks will be over before you know it. Be good."

The sound of your holocommunicator buzzing on your nightstand shook you from the memory.

Speak of the Devil.

"Hey there, stranger."

You heard him chuckle softly on the other end of the call. "Hey, sweetheart. How's my girl holding up?"

You played with hem of your t-shirt and sighed. "Bored. Horny. Missing my boyfriend. All in all, I could be better."

The smile Fives wore was heard though the words that he spoke, "That's a dangerous combo you got going there. Have you been good, Y/N?"

His presumptuous tone made you roll your eyes. "Yes, Fiv. I'm fighting with every bone in my body, but I've been a good girl."

"I know it's hard, doll. But I promise, you'll get a reward for following the rules so well." You could hear the shuffling on the other end and you knew Fives was back in his quarters and undressing for the night. You pictured him loosening his belt and unbuttoning his pants before removing his shirt. The image of your half naked boyfriend made you ache.

"Fives, baby, please tell me you're coming home soon. I'm dying over here." You didn't care how desperate and pathetic you sounded.

The bed creaked under Fives weight and you knew he was laying down now. "Mmm, my girl just wants to cum so bad, doesn't she?" Good god, he was just toying with you now. You groaned and closed your eyes, replaying the last time you and Fives had sex - just before he left. You could still hear the slapping of his skin against yours echoing through your ears. "You want my cock buried so deep inside of your tight little pussy, don't you, Y/N? Want me hitting that sweet spot so hard and fast, huh?"

You gripped the sheets in your hands and twisted your legs to alleviate some of the pressure between them. "Fives," You warned.

"Or do you want me in your mouth? You know how I love looking into those gorgeous eyes while I have my hand caught in your hair and watching my dick disappear past those pretty lips." His breath was becoming ragged and you could hear the faint lather from the lotion he squeezed into his hand. Fuck.

"Goddammit, Fives, you're killing me," You whined into the receiver. It would be so easy to just snake your hand between your thighs. He wouldn't even know-

"Don't even think about it, Y/N. You won't get your reward if you do that." What, did he have surveillance set up in your room or something? "Come on, be a good girl and help me out..."

He was torturing you already, and now he wanted assistance while jacking himself off. Phone sex isn't the most fun when only one person is able to please themselves, but you knew better than to go against his wishes. If he wants a cock tease, then you were gonna give him hell. He deserved it.

"Mmm, yes, daddy. I want you in my mouth so bad. It's so warm and wet and ready for you." You rolled your tongue around in your mouth and licked your lips. You were only teasing yourself more.

"That's more like it. Tell me more, Y/N." He urged you on in a gruff voice.

"I wanna feel your cum fill my mouth and slide down my throat. Wanna suck you off until you're all nice and clean again." Using your finger, you made a popping sound with your mouth for emphasis. "Then I wanna kiss back up your body, graze my teeth against your nipples just the way you like, making my way to that spot just below your ear, you know, the one that makes you go crazy."

Grunts and groans were your only replies besides whispered curses under Fives's breath. You could picture him perfectly. Naked. Skin glistening with sweat, glowing under the dim lighting. Muscles tense as he pumped himself into his slick hand. But still, you continued with your torment. "Then I wanna feel your hands all over me. Pulling my hair and gripping my skin. Mmm, I want you to slowly reach down between my thighs and play with my clit." You smiled upon hearing Fives whimper at the thought.

"Y/N, I'm close baby, just a little—ah—more," He could barely speak above a whisper at the pace he was going.

"I wanna throw you on the bed and have my way with you. Wanna ride you for everything you're worth. Feel that big cock stretching me. Grind against you while you rub my tits. Come on baby, cum for me." You moaned, begging for his release so you could end your own torture. A strangled groan and shortened breaths signaled that his orgasm struck. Your mouth watered at the thought of his chest and stomach painted with the white stickiness.

Fives took a minute to compose himself and slow his heart rate, clearing his throat before speaking again. "Fuck, darlin'. I love it when you talk dirty like that." He was smirking. You could tell.

"I'm glad you enjoyed it." Whining usually wasn't your thing, but you craved the relief you had just granted for him.

"Don't worry. I promise, I'll make it up to you. Get some rest, I'll call in again tomorrow. Sweet dreams, Y/N." And with that, he hung up.

Tossing your phone aside, you slid down the headboard and laid on your back with an unfulfilled groan. But you did as told, letting sleep take over your deprived body until morning came.

You had slept in a little later than usual due to your late night antics. The smell of coffee had awakened your senses and it called out to you. Stretching your limbs as you walked down the halls and into the kitchen, you offered Rex a sleepy smile when he handed you a steaming mug.

He laughed softly and matted your hair down a bit. "Looks like you had a rough night, huh kid?"

You rolled your eyes at the memory and sipped your drink. "Your best friend is an asshole." You spoke from behind the cup.

Rex wore a smirk that you couldn't quite read. The look in his eyes made a chill run down your spine and his stare was lasting longer than usual. "Come on, Y/N, he's not all that bad. In fact, sometimes he can be pretty damn great."

Okay, now that was weird. Rex rarely ever shows appreciation towards Fives like this. You didn't get to think too hard on his strange behavior before he spoke again. "Just let me know if you need anything. Anything at all, okay, Y/N?" He walked behind you to exit the room. What surprised you was that he spanked your ass softly before leaving.

What the hell?

"What the hell do you mean you're not leaving until tomorrow, Fives?" There you go whining again. He was supposed to have been almost home by now.

"Turns out I didn't finish the job as well as I thought. I'm pretty sure I just made this thing angrier than before." The speeder's engine shut off and you heard the footprints on the ground.

"I told you to let one of us go with you, but God forbid you listen to me." The irritation in your voice was evident.

 "Doll, I'll be fine. I'm actually meeting up with Echo for reinforcement. We'll kill this son of a bitch and I'll race my ass back home to you, okay?"

Sighing, you ran your hand through your hair and shrugged. "Okay, Fives. Be careful. I love you."

"I love you, too, Y/N. I'll call after the job is done. Be good." He gave his usual warning before ending the call.

Tossing your phone on the bed, you left your room in search of a distraction.

Great. Now I'm boyfriendless and horny beyond belief. Stupid fucking rule. Hey, maybe if I sit on the washing machine naked, it won't count against me because I'm not technically touching myself...

Your thoughts were interrupted by hushed voices talking in the living room. The only ones here besides you were Rex and Wolffe. They were obviously talking about something serious, and you didn't want to disturb their conversation, so you did the only thing you could do. Hide behind the wall and eavesdrop.

"Yeah, he called me last night and told me the same thing." You heard Rex say.

"Do you think we should take him up on his offer?" Wolffe asked.

Rex chuckled. "I mean, have you looked at Y/N? We'd be crazy not to at least ask her."

Your brows furrowed at the sound of your name. What the hell were they talking about?

"And we have his consent..." Wolffe lingered on that statement. "You're right, this is too good of a proposal to let go to waste. Let's go talk to Lady Y/N."

Rounding the corner as if you hadn't been standing there for the entire conversation, you walked down the steps and repeated Wolffe. "Talk to Lady Y/N about what?"

When their eyes met yours, it sent a chill down your spine. They shared a look of curiosity trying to disguise itself as something else. Lust. You'd know the look of lust anywhere. But why it was directed at you from someone other than Fives, you didn't have a clue. Wolffe licked his lips and stepped closer to you, extending his hand for you take and follow him over to where Rex was leaning casually against the back of the couch.

"You seem so tense, Y/N." Rex spoke softly from behind you as his hands started to rub the knots out of your neck. Instantly, you relaxed into his touch. You didn't know if it was his warmth, or that you were craving contact, but you let your eyes fall shut as he continued his decent to your shoulders.

Without having to open your eyes, you felt Wolffe's presence close the space between your bodies. His breath fanned over your face as he pushed your hair behind your ear and out of your face. "Why are you so tense, Y/N?" His voice was no higher than a gruff whisper.

"Tell us, littlu'n." Rex urged from behind you, his fingers now sliding down your arms.

"I haven't had sex in over two weeks. Fives doesn't let me touch myself when he's away." You don't know why you confessed as easily as you did. Rex and Wolffe were some of your best friends, and you talked about everything under the sun. But you all usually kept your sex lives under wraps. "All I want is to be touched. I want release so bad and I can't have it."

Rex's warm breath hitting the back of your neck made you shiver as Wolffe glided his fingers across the hem of your shirt. "You know, we would be more than happy to help you, Y/N. Give you what you crave most." Wolffe said as his knuckles lightly brushed against your hipbones.

"Honored." Rex corrected him.

At this admittance, your eyes shot open. You didn't know who too look at. Both Wolffe and Rex shared the same calm look that didn't show any sign of joking. Before you could start bombarding them with questions and accusations, you were silenced.

"Fives told us to assist you while he's on his mission. He said to do whatever you asked of us." Wolffe informed you.

"Said it was your reward for being such a good little girl." Rex continued.

That's when you knew it had to be true. Only Fives would say something like that to you. Although, it sounded wonderful coming from his best friend's mouth. You were already getting off on how close they were to you. Like they said, you'd be crazy not to take him up on his offer. So you let yourself relax back into Rex's chest, bringing one of your arms up to rest on Wolffe's shoulder while the other snaked around the back of Rex's neck.

"So, how is this gonna work boys?" You asked, looking from one man to the other.

Wolffe and Rex looked up at each other, silently asking each other if you had really just agreed to this. After letting the realization set in, they couldn't help the grin that played on their lips. "How ever you want it to work, Y/N. You call the shots." Wolffe slowly dragged his lips up your arm, grazing his teeth along your shoulder. "We've been instructed to do whatever you like, my lady. Your wish, is our command."

Both of them coaxing you from each end was stimulating your senses. Your body was already on fire and they had hardly even done anything yet. And it dawned on you that you didn't have to be Fives's good little girl for the night. Being good all of the time was exhausting. You wanted to rebel. You wanted to be bad. The beast inside of you was awakening at the thought of all the possibilities.

You reached for both of their hands and smirked at them, leading them to your bedroom. Once inside, you closed the door and rested your back against it. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips slowly, drawing their attention to your mouth. They closed the space between your bodies when you beckoned them over. One of your hands slid up and down Wolffe's chest, while the other mimicked the same action to Rex. "Did Fives give you any rules that you have to abide by?"

They both shook their heads no. "He said anything you want, goes." Rex breathed out.

You smiled and pulled him closer by his collar, bringing his mouth to yours. Your lips ghosted over his gently. "Good." Pulling Wolffe closer as well, you tugged on his bottom lip with your teeth. "Because I wanna feel, taste, every inch of the two of you." Your words earned a moan from both men. "So get comfortable boys," You squeezed past them, peeling your shirt off as you sauntered over to your bed. "It's gonna be a long night."

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

Kneeling on your mattress, you silently used your finger to beckon them over to you. They sat at each side, Rex to your right and Wolffe to your left, eagerly awaiting your next move. You crawled behind Wolffe and slid your hands down his chest, latching your mouth to the back of his ear and sucking a soft bruise there while you gathered the hem of his shirt and pulled it off of his frame. He tilted his head to the side and exhaled slowly, shuddering when your fingers trailed over his pectorals and left goosebumps in their wake. Then, you moved over to Rex, pulling his t-shirt over his head and discarding it with the rest of the clothes.

"Kneel." You motioned for Rex to mirror your stance on the bed. He did as told, kneeling behind you. Wolffe watched and waited for you to give him an order.

"Come here, Wolffe." Relishing in the way you said his name, he shivered, his eyes slowly hazing over as he too came to a kneeling position in front of you.

The two men sandwiched you between them, giving you little to no space to move. You backed your ass into Rex's crotch, grinding slowly. His jeans grew tighter as he grunted and rested his hands on your hips. Your hands slid up and down Wolffe's toned chest, enjoying the feeling of his abs underneath your fingertips. When your eyes met, you smirked and leaned into him, crashing your lips against his. Wolffe cupped your face in his hands, deepening the kiss. His lips parted just enough for you to slip your tongue past them, making him groan at the feeling of your tongue massaging his. Your hips never stopped moving against Rex's as you occupied Wolffe with your mouth. When you pulled away from Wolffe, one of your arms slipped around the back of Rex's neck, tugging on the ends of his hair until his head was forced back to give you access to his neck. You sucked on his pulse point until your name fell from his lips.

Wolffe watched in amazement for a moment until he noticed your half bare chest being unattended to. He palmed your breasts through your bra roughly, to which your responded with a moan against Rex's skin. Rex's hands gripped you tighter as the vibrations from your mouth beat against his throat..

"You know, Fives always handles me like I'm made of glass. Always so gentle with me. Calls me his good little girl," You tilted your head up so that your mouth brushed against Rex's fervently as you arched into Wolffe's touch. Wolffe leaned down to your chest and nipped at your skin, sucking over the marks he made with his teeth. One of Rex's hands pushed into the back of your shorts, squeezing your ass harshly. "But not you." You breathed out, leaning your head on Rex's chest. "You take me for what I really am."

Wolffe glided his hands up your sides and looked up at you from where his face was buried between your breasts. "And what are you really, Y/N?"

A slap to the back of your thigh stopped you from answering. Instead, you moaned through a bitten lip. "A bad girl." Rex replied for you. You could hear the grin on his lips without having to look at him. "Mmm, I bet you're a naughty little thing in bed, aren't you, littlu'n?" His voice was beautifully gruff. All you could do was nod.

"I bet you like it nice and rough, don't you, Y/N?" Wolffe mumbled into the crook of your neck as he kissed his way upward. Again, you nodded. "Tell us. Let us know what you like. We want to pleasure you to the fullest of our abilities, my lady."

Just thinking of all the possibilities that the two of them could do to your body was enough to surrender you useless. But you weren't about to roll over and play the good little girl role again. They were going to do what you wanted, alright.

Taking the wrist of each man, you led their hands to each side of your ass. "I like to be spanked."

Rex and Wolffe shared a look and smiled before drawing back and slapping your skin. You knew your ass was blushed from the sting without having to look back at it. The men kneaded your flesh in the palms of their hands to soothe the sweet ache.

"Go on, cyare." Rex nuzzled his nose against the shell of your ear as he pushed your shorts down your legs. Wolffe held you while Rex pulled them the rest of the way off.

Your breath was shaky as you sighed. "Bitten. I like to be bitten. Clawed at. I want bruises in the form of your fingertips scattered all over my body." Your chest was heaving and you had to choke down a moan at the thought of it all.

The smirk that was plastered on Wolffe's lips sent a shiver down your spine. He trailed his fingers down your sides, his nails digging into your skin and leaving marks that led to your panties. You sighed contently, resting your head on Rex's shoulder as he unhooked your bra and discarded it. Wolffe hunched over on his knees, propping himself up on his elbows as his fingers massaged your thighs harshly. His thumb slowly brushed against your clothed clit, making you whimper.

Rex wrapped your hair around his hand and tugged your head back to look at him. Your bottom lip was held captive by your teeth as another moan escaped the back of your throat from his aggressiveness. His free hand traveled down your neck, to your chest, and finally to your ample breast. He took your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, twisting and teasing the bud.

"Look at me." Rex's demand was met. Your mouth was gaped and your eyes clouded with lust. Rex's tongue traced your bottom lip as Wolffe peppered kisses along your inner thigh.

Although you loved the attention being paid to you, you felt as if you were losing control. You carded your fingers though Wolffe's hair and pulled until he was at eye level with you. "Lay. Now." He obliged, laying back on the pillows and watching for your next order. You peeled off your panties, tossing them away carelessly. "Bare down, fellas. We've got work to do."

They did as instructed, stripping down and waiting for your next command. After telling Rex to wait at the foot of the bed, you crawled over to Wolffe, leaving open mouthed kisses up the path of his body until you reached his lips. His throbbing hard on brushed against your leg, emitting a hiss from the Maker beneath you. "You know, I'd be more than happy to help you out with that," You whispered softly into his ear. He groaned in response. "But only if you return the favor."

Before he could speak, you pecked his lips and moved up to straddle his face. You faced Rex, grinning at the sight of his slack jaw as he watched Wolffe tease your already soaked folds. You never took your eyes off of him as you leaned down and took Wolffe's cock into your hand. When your grip tightened around Wolffe's tip, he licked a long, hard strip along your cunt. A strangled groan sounded from deep inside of your throat and you licked your lips, looking back and forth between Rex's eyes and his unattended to length. He got the hint and made his way over to you.

Rex pumped himself in his hand a few times while you retrieved the lube from your bedside table and squirted some into your palm, slicking Wolffe's dick with it. You smiled at Rex and crashed your lips to his passionately before showering his skin with kisses, trailing down his stomach. Your tongue licked along his shaft before you sucked him into your mouth. His hand tangled into your hair, guiding your head back and forth on him.

"Harder." Your command was muffled due to your full mouth, but obliged. Rex tightened his grasp and pulled your head back, thrusting his hips in sync with you.

Your motions never let up on Wolffe. You continued to pump him tight in your clutch, twisting your wrist and rubbing your thumb along the vein under his tip. When he began to suck on your clit, it was the beginning of your downfall. He snaked his arms around your thighs as you rode his mouth for all it was worth until you came. Moans and straggled breaths were the only sounds echoing around the room as he helped you ride it out.

You knew it was only a matter of time before they followed suit. With a flick of the wrist and hollowed cheeks, you got what you wanted. Rex's load filled your mouth as Wolffe's spewed over your chest and stomach.

After swallowing Rex's cum, you licked up Wolffe's until he was clean of the sticky substance. You fell to your back and smiled to yourself, still in bliss from what had just happened. Rex kissed your temple and Wolffe moved the hair away from your face. You let your eyes fall shut and hummed softly.

"Anything else we can do for you, cyary'ika?" Wolffe asked.

"Anything at all?" Rex pressed.

You could lie, you were already warn out. A certain amount of time without sexual exertion can feel like running a marathon once you finally get back in the game. But it had been too long, and the craving for it only grew stronger. There was no chance in hell that this opportunity was going to happen again, so why not take full advantage of it?

Rex and Wolffe were laying on their sides, waiting for your answer. They knew from your grin that you weren't finished with them. Their calm gentleness was replaced with dominate roughness as they each took a leg and spread you open. Rex's teeth nipped at your throat while Wolffe clawed his way up your thigh. They each took a nipple into their mouths, taunting and teasing in such a delicious fashion that you felt the room spin.

You ran your hands through their hair and pulled them up to look at you. "Enough teasing. Fuck me already." You half pleaded, half commanded.

Both men helped you up and positioned you between them, Rex in front of you and Wolffe behind. You ground your hips into Rex's and pulled Wolffe in for a bruising kiss. Both of them were hesitant, not wanting to hurt you in any way, but you quickly assured them.

"I'm fine, I can take it. Just please, I can't wait any more. I need you, please, I need both of you." You didn't care how pathetic you sounded. All the teasing had you more turned on than ever and you longed to be filled to the highest extent.

Wolffe slowly eased himself into you after coating himself with the lubricant. You sighed and rested your head in the crook of his neck as he rubbed circles into your hips to soothe you.

"Come on, Cap. Can't get this party started without you." Despite your approval, Rex was still timid. You stroked his cheek and pulled him close until your lips brushed against his. "Please, Rex. You don't know how bad I need this. How bad I need you. " You whispered against his mouth.

He whimpered, nodding and readying himself before sliding into you with ease. Groans and sighs emitted from each of you as they allowed you time to adjust to their lengths. After signaling that it was okay to move, they rocked their hips back and forth, switching speeds and going in and out of sync with each other.

There wasn't much you could do besides help spring them on. Your hands caressed every inch of Rex while your mouth took care of Wolffe. You felt Wolffe twitch inside of you, which in turn made your walls tense around him and Rex. They were trying their damnedest to hold back until you came first. Sloppy thrusts and hot mouths all deemed you to your end.

You came hard, feeling your slickness slide down your thighs as Rex and Wolffe continued until their orgasms hit. You were filled to the hilt. Their actions slowed to a complete stop and they slowly pulled out of you, laying you down gently.

You all were still fighting to regulate your breathing as you lay tangled up in one another. Rex rolled over to his side and nuzzled his face into your neck. "Fives is one lucky motherfucker."

You laughed softly and pushed his hair out of his face. Rex's communicator rang from the back of his jean pocket. As he got up to answer it, Wolffe pulled you closer and kissed your lips sweetly. Rex's voice was muffled for the most part, but he turned around to look at you and Wolffe as he spoke.

"Yeah, Fives. She was a very good girl."

(masterlist)

[akindofmagictoo]

manuscript search tag game

@zmlorenz tagged me (back). thank you very much :D 

my words are pair, peel, pink, pale, peer 

pair (Dragonsong) 

Finding the shop was the hardest part, and even that only took her ten minutes or so. Another ten minutes later, she had a pair of boots in her hand. 

SB looked more surprised than anything to receive the boots from Isi. Actually, he looked like she’d hit him in the face with them. “I—really?” 

“Yes.” 

“Thank—thank you.” He looked at the ground. “You’re right, I’ve not been the best travel companion. So, uh, thanks for doing this anyway.” 

peel (Dragonsong) 

“Are you holding up alright? Is your leg okay?” 

“Yeah. I have a chair here if I need it.” He nudged the chair in question with his hip. 

Isi smiled. She was pretty sure Althea was taking good care of him, or at least allowing him to take good care of himself, but she still liked to check sometimes. “Are we training after you finish here?” 

“Sure. More recurve bow work?” He frowned at a stubborn bit of potato peel. 

pink + pale (Dragonsong) 

Something chirped and she reached immediately for her sword once more, one eye on the pale pink bulk of the dragon in front of her. But it hadn’t moved. It lay still as stone. 

Whatever had chirped, it had come from behind Robin. 

“Oh,” whispered Robin, and Isi stepped over the dragon’s neck to look. 

bonus pink (Hurricane) 

He looked back up and his gaze met hers. Oops. But it was too late to pretend she hadn’t been staring. Might as well own up to it. She winked at him. 

The edges of his ears turned pink. “What are you doing at the moment?” 

“Winning at cards. And I see you raising your eyebrows at me.” 

He hesitated. “I—it doesn’t sound entirely fair.” 

“I’m a pirate. What’d you expect?” Technically, Elizabeth was just really good at cards, and they tried to stay more sober than the people they played. “We only cheat a little bit.” 

He frowned. 

“Didn’t mean to say that out loud.” She was definitely more drunk than she’d thought. Oh well.  

peer (Hurricane) 

Having found a suitable piece of cloth, he began to fashion a sling. “How does that feel?” he asked, pulling the knot firm. 

“Well, I can’t move my arm. But that’s the point.” [Aella said] 

“You’ll burst the stitches if you move your arm too much.” 

“And then I’ll have to sit through this again. I get it.” She turned to Victoire, who was lying in a hammock across the room with one arm thrown over her face. “Hey, Vic, has anyone gone to relieve Ma?”

Victoire lifted her arm, peering at Aella. “Marisa’s on the wheel. Tempest’s going back on after her.” 

“Right,” said Aella, standing up. “I’m going to sleep.” 

Theo had to ask, “How can you sleep in this weather?” 

I have some words for ... @sleepyowlwrites @writingbyjillian and @juls-writes! they are hush, help, haul, hail 

[broadstbroskis]

surprises- pt 6 | mat barzal

part 5

Mat’s fingers are tracing patterns over your bump as he lies beside you in his bed and if he doesn’t stop soon, it’s going to be a problem. “Don’t start something you can’t finish,” You mumble at him.

He laughs. “Who says I can’t finish? I could go again.”

You turn to look at him, laugh on your lips. “Oh yeah?”

“Give me five minutes.” He says, but you’re not in a rush. Sure, you wouldn’t mind if he moved his hand down lower or if he’d pull you back on top of him like he had earlier in the evening, but since jumping back into bed with him a couple weeks ago, it’s been much each easier to spend time out of bed with him as well. 

Even though, at this moment in time, you are technically in bed with him. 

Mat’s hand stops moving, resting comfortably on your belly, which somehow, the cantaloupe in there seems to recognize as daddy and always takes as a calming influence. It’s one of the few times that they’ll seem to stop moving, when his hand is resting on your or his arm is wrapped around you or even when he’s just talking to you, and tonight is no exception. You can feel your breath start to even out and sleep start to take you, when Mat suddenly whispers, “You should move in with me.”

Well that wakes you up. “What?”

And he’s still quiet, more quiet than you’ve ever heard him, but he doesn’t back down, looking at you with a smile that matches the soft voice he’s speaking in. “You’ve been here every night I’ve been home for the last two weeks. It’s going to be easier for you after the baby to have me closer.” You open your mouth to protest but he continues. “It’s going to be way easier for me to have you close.”

“Mat-” You start, gently reaching out for him, resting your hand on his forearm.

“I don’t know what I’m doing in this.” Mat confesses. “And you just know-”

“I have no clue what I’m doing.”  You admit. “I’m just happy to have you to figure it out with.”

He smiles, that same soft one from before. “Will you at least think about it? Moving in?”

You nod, trying to settle yourself in a new, comfortable position as there’s a kick against your stomach. “Yeah,” You tell him. “I’ll think about it.”

But there’s no response from Mat and when you look over, he looks completely dumbstruck. “Was that-”

You nod, sliding over toward him, even though you can’t guarantee that there will be another one. “Yeah.”

“Holy shit!” He breathes, palm moving as he tries to chase that feeling.

“Baby likes your voice.” You tell him, which makes him beam so wide that it practically lights up the dark room. “You might not feel anything else tonight.”

He kisses you, so soft and gentle that you almost don’t even reciprocate, just barely managing to return it before he’s pulling away. “That’s okay.” He’s still grinning. “I’ll catch it next time.”

He doesn’t take his hand off your belly the entire night, but that does put him in prime position to catch it next time when the baby is up and kicking first thing in the morning.

-----

Following that one time though, Mat becomes increasingly bitter as the baby starts kicking up a storm when literally anyone puts their hand on your stomach except for him. Molly and Tito almost always feel a kick, every time they reach their hands out. Brian, still a little more hesitant than the other two to touch you, gets one pretty frequently. Your brother had visited and gotten to feel, Mat’s parents and sister had stayed for a long weekend and each managed to feel something every day that they were there.

But anytime Mat reached his hand out, his large palm covering like half your huge belly, it was instantly calm. The one time there was no kicking. You were certain that whenever the baby did come out, they were coming out with Mat’s athletic genes; it was a running joke between you and Molly.

“Baby hates me.” Mat whines, lying in bed some other night, his hand resting on your stomach again, after the baby had been actively kicking for Molly, Tito, and Brian at dinner that night. 

“Baby doesn’t hate you.” This is the best part of your day. When the coconut wasn't kicking your ribs or somersaulting around. 

“Hates me.” He insists.

“I told you.” You tell him, moving as close to him as you can, with the bump in the way. “Baby likes the sound of your voice. It’s calming.” That does get him to smile, just a bit. “It might be one of the only times that your child isn’t beating my ribs up.”

His thumb brushes softly over the curve of your belly. “Are you beating your momma up in there?” Almost as if they could tell, Mat finally gets the kick he’s been dying for, a gentle little thing that if he hadn’t smiled at, you wouldn’t have even thought he’d felt. “You should stop that. Be nice to her in there.”

You laugh at him. “I don’t think that’s going to do it.”

“Won’t know til we try.” Mat says cheerfully and you just shake your head, so much fondness for this absolute dork. 

-----

“I cannot believe you did all this.” You look around Grace and Anders’ house in awe, shocked at the baby shower that’s occurring around you.

“Oh come on.” Molly scoffs. “You can’t be mad we threw you a baby shower.”

“I’m not mad at all!” You tell her honestly. “This-this is incredible. Better than I could have dreamed.”

She beams, looping her arm through yours and resting her head on your shoulder. You smile, and lean yours against hers, watching the chaos around you.

There’s a room full of gifts, presented with tags and already unwrapped, as she’d stated she knew you wouldn’t want to sit around and waste time with any of that. One wall has two lines of pictures, one each of you and Mat, with a crowd of people studying each one, as they make guesses about what age you each were in the different pictures. At the kitchen table, Brian’s collecting money and running the pool for baby sex and date and time of birth.

But for the most part, it’s just a group of people-your friends, Mat’s friends, Mat’s family, your brother, some coworkers-just gathered to celebrate and you couldn’t have asked for a better baby shower from her. Or the rest of her accomplices. Grace is a perfect hostess, hushing you each time you try to thank you. Tito and Brian are proudly wearing those stupid Team Baby t-shirts, and what’s worse is that they did manage to get your brother one. Chris is rocking his under a flannel, showing it off to anyone who asks.

“I think they’re taking orders for more.” You mutter to Molly. Tito looks pretty suspicious over in the family room, surrounded by a few teammates.

“I don’t think you want me to tell you the real answer to that.” She says and you laugh, just as an arm drops over your shoulders.

“Does your brother have any idea how old you are?” Mat asks.

You and Molly both burst into laughter. “Probably not.” You admit and Mat gives you the most incredulous look. “He’s eight years older than me and he was gone once he left for college. Actually. A lot before then too.” 

“I was gone a lot too but I know how old my sister is!” Mat cries.

“That’s a lot of shade for someone who didn’t know what she was studying in school.” You tell him and he laughs, appropriately called out.

“Alright.”  He grins at you, a smile you instantly return. “Fair enough.” And then, immediately, he says, “You good, Moll?”

You turn, just in time to see your best friend’s face change from interested curiosity to a bright grin. “Yup. I mean, I’d be better if you two would have, say, given me a name, but I’ve settled. At least there’s a nursery theme.”

You and Mat both smile. She’d begged and pleaded- first, to be allowed to find out the sex, then when she’d given up on that, for you both to finally pick a nursery theme, and now, for you to just give her the name options. The only thing you’d given in on was the theme. Mat had dropped it to her one night and she had, quite literally, taken it and ran. 

But she’d done great with it, constantly sending you both pictures of animal and safari themed nurseries and incorporating part of it into the shower. There was a pile of stuffed animals in the corner that she said she “had a vision for” and you were leaving her to it. She hadn’t let you down yet and you knew this wouldn’t be when she started.

“Maybe there isn’t a name yet.” Mat grins at her and you bite your lip to keep back the laugh at the face Molly makes.

“Don’t test me on this, Mathew.” She huffs at him. “You are only proving my point as to why waiting until the baby is born is a terrible idea.” She unlinks her arm from you and pushes her way over toward Grace.

“I changed my mind.” Mat says, turning to you as soon as she’s out of ear range. “If it is a girl, we can name it after her if you want.” You burst into laughter, burying your face in his shoulder. “Solely just to see the reaction she’d have if we did.”

“Nahh,” You tell him. “I don’t want to risk the overdramatics. Just in case.” 

He laughs and you’re sure he knows exactly what you mean. “Cross it off the list.”

“We are doing a lot of crossing and very little adding.” You tell him, mentally thinking of the very short list of names that neither of you have nixed.

He squeezes your shoulders. “Still got time. It’ll come to us.”

“Yeah.” You smile softly at him, but that’s all you get to say about it for the rest of the party, as you’re being called away to tell the story behind one of your photos on the wall. Then it feels like it’s hours later before you get the chance to talk to Mat again, both of you pulled from person to person or group to group, eager for your attention, that you’re more than happy to share after this amazing afternoon they’ve pulled together for you.

By the time you do get to cycle back around to Mat, the party’s pretty much wrapped up, only a few stragglers left to help Grace and Anders clean up and you and Mat load up Mat’s car.

He’s actually standing outside, which is the only reason you find him. He’s out on the back porch, alone, which explains why you couldn’t find him at first and why he hadn’t responded when Tito had called out for him a few minutes ago. You slip out behind him, sliding the door shut after you and then immediately start shaking. “Mat?”

He turns, and then frowns. “What’re you doing out here? You’re shivering.” He holds his arm out, and you step into him, burrowing close. 

“Looking for you.” You poke his side. “What are you doing out here?” 

“Just thinking.” He says quietly, which you give a soft hmm to in response, waiting for him to continue, but he’s silent for a few moments longer. You’re just about ready to tug him inside when he takes a deep breath, and you know that he’s gearing up for something big. “Would you-” Another breath. “I know I said to take your time, and I mean that still, I do! But what would you think about moving out here?”

“With you?”

He laughs, gently. “Yeah, with me.” And it’s now that you see he’s looking around the yard and the neighborhood, checking out the space around you, compared to the building of condos you two live in. That this is likely what he’s been thinking about the entire time he’s been out here, why he disappeared in the first place. 

“You want to buy a house?” You look out at what he’s been looking at for...well, who knows how long now, trying to picture it.

“I want to buy us a house.” He clarifies. 

“You-” You trail off, unable to form thoughts or words or sentences.

“Look, still think about it.” Mat says. “Just-just know that this could definitely be on the table. If you want it.”

But-but it’s not just what you want, isn’t it? Isn’t that a whole thing of parenthood and adulthood and life? This is closer to the rink, closer to Mat’s practice facilities. You’ve already committed to working from home after maternity leave ends, so you’re not overly worried about the increase in time to your own work (which you are pretty sure is actually fairly small anyway). The schools are better our here- you know that was a big thing for a lot of Mat’s teammates, the whole reason they all settled out here. It’s a little terrifying, sure, to think that you’re old enough to be thinking of houses and commutes and schools, but everything’s terrifying right now. There’s another human growing inside you, for god’s sake.

You squeeze your arms around Mat. “Let’s look at some houses.”

[supernaturaldesires]

A Descent Into Insanity - Chapter Three

Based on request by @sweetpotato-97

Could ask for a fic of Yandere Dean with a reader who sees him as a best friend and a form of brother for them, of course in the beginning Dean was not a yandere but he changed with the passage of time?

Note: the reader in a way is innocent and does not know that Dean is in love with them.

Pairing: None (yet)

Characters: Dean & Sam

Warnings: none, other than a slightly protective Dean

Word Count: 1,249

"Only problem is, I couldn’t find out how to kill the thing,” you sighed as you finished catching the Winchesters up on your research.

Sam rubbed his face. “I’ll call up a couple of hunters we know,” he suggested. “See if they’ve come across a siren before - someone must’ve.” He grinned at you then. “Good job, Y/N, this is great work!”

You beamed at the younger Winchester, but out of the corner of your eye you noticed a scowl on Dean’s face. When your gaze flicked over to him, he looked away before pushing back from the table. “I’m going to bed,” he grumbled, before stalking out without another word. You exchanged a look with Sam, but honestly he looked exhausted from his day and you didn’t want to bother him about Dean being a miserable git.

“Do you want me to call the others?” You offered, knowing that he wouldn’t agree - and rightly so. Other than the Winchesters, you didn’t really know any other hunters. You knew unless Sam or Dean called them directly, they wouldn’t tell you jack-shit. Hunters weren’t exactly the type to blab to anyone who started asking questions.

Sam gave you a grateful smile. “I’m good, thanks. Go get some rest.”

As you were scoffing down breakfast the next morning, Sam sauntered in with a grin on his face.

“Well that looks like the face of someone who knows how to waste a siren,” you chuckled at him.

“You bet! Check this out,” Sam said as he took a seat at the table and shuffled closer to you, pulling out scraps of notes from his pocket. “Bobby said there are a couple of options with sirens. They’re vulnerable to severe trauma. If you beat the shit out of it enough, it is possible to take one down. But the sure-fire way of wasting one is using a bronze dagger-”

“Well that shouldn’t be too hard,” you said cheerfully. “I’ve got one in my weapons trunk.”

“-Covered in the blood of one of its victims,” Sam finished.

“Ah. Less good.”

“Yeah,” Sam huffed out a tired laugh. “Less good.” 

You shook off the doubt starting to cloud over you and placed a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “No sweat. Let’s get to Indianapolis at least and we can figure something out.”

“You alright there, care bears?” Dean’s stone-cold voice made you both jump as you both looked up at him in the kitchen doorway. You and Sam shared a brief look of confusion at his comment before returning your gaze to the elder Winchester. Dean’s eyes were fixated on your hand still resting on Sam’s shoulder, which you dropped immediately.

Sam let out a frustrated sigh, pushing away from the table and glaring at his brother. “What’s your problem, Dean?” He snapped. “Why have you been acting so weird these last few days?”

Dean shrugged him off, entering one of his famous silent moods. You really couldn’t be bothered with this right now. “Anyway,” you said loudly. “I’m going to get ready for this hunt. I suggest you both do the same.” You left the kitchen in a huff, and as soon as you left the room you heard hushed bickering between the two brothers.

Just as you were zipping up your duffle bag, you noticed Dean standing in the doorway of your bedroom, leaning against the doorframe. “This is starting to become a habit, you silently appearing in doorways,” you commented over your shoulder. You were still pissed off with his attitude really and didn’t particularly care to look at him.

“I’m sorry.” You froze then, certain you had misheard him. Did Dean Winchester really just apologise to you?

You slowly turned to look at him then, but you were suspicious. “What are you sorry for?” He took a step into the room and for a moment you thought he was going to approach you, but he seemed to reconsider and stopped. 

“I care about you, Y/N,” he said softly, taking you by surprise. “I...I think I love you.”

You scoffed an incredulous laugh. “Okay, haha, very funny. What is this really all about?”

Dean approached you then, standing so close that you could feel his breath on your face. “I just want to keep you safe,” he murmured. “If anything happened to you, I couldn’t live with myself.”

What on earth was going on with him? “It’s a bit early for the drink, isn’t it? Even for you, Dean.” But the reality was you couldn’t smell a whiff of alcohol on his breath. And god knows he was close enough that you would be able to. His eyes held yours, almost like he was trying to communicate with you telepathically. You didn’t even notice his hand slip into his pocket until the cloth was clamped over your nose and mouth, his other hand quickly wrapping round your waist to hold you still.

You immediately bucked and tried to fight him off. “What the fu-” you tried to scream through the cloth but within seconds, everything faded to black.

Dean’s POV

“C’mon Sammy, let’s hit the road,” I said as I hitched my bag over my shoulder.

Sam looked up from his laptop, his eyebrows knotted together in confusion. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s not feeling well,” I said. It was only a half-lie. Technically she was passed out on her bed, so she certainly wasn’t ready to go on a hunt.

A disbelieving eyebrow raised on Sam’s face. “Are you sure? She seemed fine half an hour ago. What happened?”

"I dunno man, maybe it’s her time of the month or something,” I muttered. I knew Sam wouldn’t believe me. So when he wordlessly stood up and trudged down the hallway towards her room, I followed closely behind him. He nudged the door to Y/N’s room open and saw her lying under the duvet, just as I’d left her. “See? She’s resting, so I wouldn’t disturb her. You know how moody she gets when she gets woken up.” Sam gave me another suspicious look before silently making his way to the garage, and I followed.

Your POV

When you woke up, you felt groggy. Why were you under your bedsheets fully-clothed? You sat up and rubbed your eyes as the last few moments of your consciousness resurfaced from your memory. The hunt. Dean. The cloth.

“Son of a bitch!” you cussed as you launched yourself out of the bed, stumbling over your own feet a little in your half-drugged state. Using the wall for support until you gained your balance, you headed straight for the garage and, as you expected, the Impala was missing. 

Letting out a frustrated scream, you dug into your pocket for your phone and stabbed the keypad until Dean’s number was dialling. Voicemail. Of course. You tried Sam’s. To your relief, the call was answered.

“Y/N.” It was Dean that had picked up, throwing you off guard for a moment. Only a moment.

“Dean, what the fuck are you doing? You drugged me?”

“We will talk when I get back,” he said coldly. The line went dead. With a frustrated scream, you punched the wardrobe and heard a crack. You drew your fist back and at the sight of the hole, you hoped that was all that made the sound. Then the pain kicked in and you clutched your hand in agony.

That son of a bitch. Just wait until you laid your eyes on him.

<= Chapter Two

Chapter Four =>

Dean tags: @akshi8278​

Divider credit: @firefly-graphics​

[tae-cup]

1, 2, 3, Not It | Tata’s Spookytober 2020

Pairing: Min Yoongi x Reader

Summary: Caught in a lie....

Genre: Horror/Thriller

Rating: Teen (Violence)

Warnings: Blood, mentions of drowning, character death

Word Count: 2.6k words

A/N: 

Hey y’all, welcome to the third installment of tata’s spookytober where I try to crank out as many spooky (or not so spooky) stories this october! Let me know if you would like to be tagged in my future updates!

This one I just got very inspired by very suddenly. Not for the faint of heart in certain parts. 

Other:

Masterlist

Spookytober 2020 Masterlist

“Who’s it?” Jimin ran, his breath heavy as you ventured farther into the woods and away from the cabin. 

“I think it’s...Jungkook?” You huffed, slowing down to give yourself a break. 

“Why?! He runs like a demon!” 

“He was the last one to say not it!” 

“He was on his phone!” Jimin crossed his arms as you came to a clearing near the creek. 

       The dead leaves crunched underfoot as the sun began to set. The man began to hum the song Lie, one of his favorite songs. “Caught in a lie…” He hummed. 

“What’s the point of coming out here every halloween anyway? The cabin isn’t even scary anymore.” You mused, crouching near the babbling creek. Jimin stood up the embankment to keep lookout. 

          The cabin had been scary at the beginning; abandoned and falling apart, but over the years you and the others had renovated it into a cozy place to spend Halloween nights. The sun sunk lower, it’s golden rays disappearing behind the rolling hills. The forest stretched for miles, but you guys had marked trees to help you find your way back to the cabin just in case. You dipped your hand into the creek. 

           A scream pierced the air. The quiet forest was disturbed, the scream loud and familiar. Taehyung? You straightened and turned to look when Jimin took a hold of your arm. His eyes were dark, the joking lightness gone. He shoved you into the creek, holding your face to the water. 

          It was suffocating, the water ran over you, leaving little room to breathe. You struggled, arms flailing and legs kicking wildly. What was going on? Why was he doing this? Was he trying to kill you?! You tried to push him off, but you underestimated how strong the short man was. 

“Stay down.” He hissed in your ear before standing upright. 

          The sound of footsteps crunched through the leaves and approached you two. You were about to scream for help when you heard him. 

“Jimin, is it done?” Jungkook said. You had never heard him like this. It was...dark and serious. His tone was deadly. 

“Yes.” Jimin dipped his head. You laid still, holding your breath. 

“I’ll take your word for it. I took care of Taehyung and Jin. Namjoon and Hoseok are probably hiding in the cabin. I can’t find Yoongi. The bastard is quicker than I thought and I lost him when I got Tae.” Jungkook shrugged. “You look for Yoongi, I’ll look at the cabin. We meet by the creek in an hour.” 

“Got it.” Jimin nodded and drew a knife from his bag. 

          You couldn’t hold your breath much longer. Jungkook eyed your body. You could feel his stare. 

“You drowned her?”

“Yeah.” 

“That’s harsh.” Then the men left. Jimin shot you a concerned gaze but followed his friend. 

            Once they were far from you, you lurched upwards, water splashing over you. Your hair was soaked, your knees bleeding from the rocks. You stumbled through the woods, hands reaching out for the trees to help you on your way. Jungkook was headed to the cabin, but Namjoon and Hoseok were hiding there as well. 

              Did they know? Did they know what was happening? You breathed heavily. The moon was lighting the forest well enough for you to see the trees marked red. Did you risk going to the house or should you search for Yoongi instead? But you might run into Jimin then and- 

               A figure bumped into you, cursing under their breath. You resisted the urge to shriek. Then you saw the light blonde hair and the cat-like eyes of Yoongi and you breathed a sigh of relief. 

“Y-yoongi!” You whispered, hands shaking as you reached for him.

              His eyes widened and then his hands were on your shoulders. He looked you up and down, taking in your drenched form. 

“Y/N, oh thank god you’re okay.” He murmured. “What happened?” 

“Jimin tried to drown me, you?” You looked at him to see the blood splattered across his shirt. 

“Let’s just say I had a run in with Jungkook.” He tilted his head to the side, the waves of his hair falling across his face. 

             His hands dropped from your shoulders and instead took to a nervous twitch as his sides. 

“Where are the others?”

“I heard Jungkook say they were in the cabin. Jimin is hunting you and Jungkook went back to the cabin to finish Namjoon and Hoseok.” You shivered, the wind blowing against your wet clothes. The man nodded and then took your hand in his. 

“Then we have to get out of here.” He said, tugging you farther away from the cabin’s path. 

“What? You want to leave them?” You whispered in disbelief. “Yoongi! They’re our friends, what if we can save them? It’s two against four!” 

“And what if we all die?” He turned to face you, his features contorting. “Don’t you understand? Jin and Tae are dead, we have to save ourselves and trust that Namjoon and Hobi will be fine, okay?” His voice broke slightly and his shoulders dropped. “If you don’t want to join me, fine.” He dropped your hand and stormed away. 

              You stood, mouth agape, eyes wide. Then, you clenched your hands into fists. Fine, indeed. You thought stubbornly and ran in the other direction, back towards the cabin. Your ears twitched towards every sound, your eyes tracked every little movement, as the trees blurred. You found the marked trees and continued the path. 

              It was a path you’d been down a hundred times. The steps were familiar, the direction nostalgic. Even in the dark, you knew where to go, you could feel it in your gut.

             How had it all gone wrong? Jungkook had never struck you as having serial killer vibes. He was always soft spoken, sweet and nice, the same for Jimin. You stumbled into the clearing where the cabin was. There it stood. The lights were still on, but not a movement was seen. 

             You crept closer, peering through the kitchen windows. After checking around the area, you went around the back and slowly crept through the backdoor. You stepped down the hallway, careful not to squeak any floorboards. Then there was a muffled bang from the floor above. You sucked in a breath, feeling your heart rate jump. 

              The stairs loomed in front of you. The narrow steps twisted to the top floor. You took a deep breath, summoning your courage, and started up the steps. The cold wood creaked slightly and you paused. 

            Then, you continued on. The upstairs was slanted. Well, the roof was slanted. It sloped downwards and toward the right. The hallway stretched to the left and right. At the end of each hallway, the light fixtures flickered ever so slightly and the windows streamed the moonlight in. 

             There were seven rooms in all upstairs. Technically, there were eight rooms, but one was just a storage room. Jin and Namjoon had always agreed to share a room. You smiled slightly at the memory. 

             You could see them waking up, the way Yoongi would be up first and up the latest. He would always appear with a coffee in hand. Then there was Taehyung running down the hallway, shouting at everyone to get up. Jin would always bang on the doors with him, forcing everyone up. Jimin and Jungkook would slowly rise and greet everyone with a sleepy hello. The smell of pancakes would waft through the house and Hoseok would be helping Namjoon set up decorations.

               Then the lights flickered once more and you jumped back into reality. No, Taehyung and Jin were gone. You would never see Taehyung running down the hallway, jumping for joy, or Jin shouting at everyone to wake up. The thought made your stomach curl in nausea. Your grief overtaking you for a moment and you weaved down the hallway, your vision blurring with unshed tears. 

             Your clothes left a wet stain against the carpet. You almost couldn’t imagine yourself doing anything else but sit on the ground and sob. Maybe you should just wait and let them kill you, just like the others. What were you to do once this night was over?

              There was a thump from the storage closet and hushed whispers. You straightened, reminded of your purpose. No, you needed to help them. You brushed your fingers through your hair, the strands catching every now and then. You walked over to the storage closest and knocked on the room lightly. 

“Namjoon, Hoseok?” You whispered. The noises stopped. Then the door slowly opened.

            Namjoon stood next to Hoseok, who was contorting his body to better make room for the two of them. 

“Is the game over?” Namjoon tilted his head. 

           Your face fell. Hoseok took in your appearance and tugged on Namjoon’s sleeve. 

“What happened?” Hoseok asked cautiously. 

            A tear rolled down your cheek. You were overjoyed, you couldn’t believe they were still alive and well, and that they thought this was still just a game, but then again, they thought this was only a game. A lump formed in your throat and Namjoon went to hug you, but you pushed him away. 

“Jungkook and Jimin have murdered Jin and T-tae.” You stuttered.

            Your legs felt weak, your body was shaking with exhaustion. The cold house was doing nothing to help your sopping wet clothes. 

“What?” Hoseok’s eyes widened. 

“Are you joking?” Namjoon questioned. 

“No! I’m s-serious!” You chattered, another tear rolling down. “Please, they tried to drown me and Yoongi ran off and you’re the only ones left and we gotta get out here before they come and-” You rambled. 

“Hey, slow down, it’s okay. Let’s go and call the cops, okay?” Namjoon started to lead you away when you turned around and looked down the hall. 

           Jungkook stood there, a small smile on his face. His shadow stretched down the hallway, his tall stature elongated like a predator. There was a wild gleam in his eye. His hand held a bloody knife and the red liquid stained his jacket as well. 

“J-jungkook?” Hoseok whispered. 

“What’s wrong, guys? Did you see something?” the man asked menacingly, his innocent voice a sarcastic drawl. He took a step closer. Namjoon pushed you behind him and Hoseok. 

“Drop the knife, Kookie.” Hoseok found your arm and held on tightly. 

“Oh, this thing?” Jungkook dropped it onto the ground and kicked it so it skidded across the carpet and bounced to a stop halfway between them. He looked up at Namjoon, the leader who stood tall and proud. The younger man chuckled darkly.

 “I don’t need this to kill you.” 

              Then he lunged forward and all hell broke loose. You shrieked and dove to the side as Namjoon was tackled. Jungkook’s hands wrapped around the leader’s throat, his hips straddling the man, knees pinning his arms. Hoseok jumped on Jungkook, trying to pull him off, but the young man just applied more pressure. 

              Namjoon choked, struggling for air. You scrambled upwards, the world tilting and making you hold your hands out to the side. You caught yourself on the opposite wall and bent down. You grasped the forgotten knife in your hands. The metal was weighted, the handle was slick and sticky with blood. 

               You turned and watched as Namjoon went still, his arms slowly falling away while Hoseok continued to try and pry him off. Your throat closed up as you lurched towards your old friend. 

         Jungkook I’m sorry. You chanted as you plunged the metal into his gut. The man went still. You let out a choked sob. The knife retracted, fresh blood running down the blade. Then you plunged forth again. He choked, ruby liquid dripping down his chin. His eyes were wide, but not surprised. 

         Jungkook, I’m sorry. You couldn’t stop, your metal impaling the man over and over like your chant. He fell to the side, eyes watching you. An unreadable gaze crossed his face, then he chuckled, choking on his own blood. 

“Thank you.” He said softly. 

         Jungkook, I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry. You continued to sob until a hand rested over your bloodied fist. The pale skin contrasted the ruby red streams dripping off your arms and the wetness streaking down your cheeks. 

“That’s enough, Y/N.” Yoongi’s calming voice reached your ears.

             You dropped the knife, hands shaking. You collapsed against the wall, your back hitting the wood with a thud. Jungkook’s doe eyes were still, lifeless. His skin was as pale as the moon. You caught Hoseok’s frozen features. He was holding Namjoon in his arms. You started shrieking. The weight of your actions crashing down on you. He thanked you. 

              Your voice was hoarse, your blood red hands streaked through your hair as you gripped your head. Yoongi just sat next to you silently. He didn’t need words, his presence was enough. Your stomach turned. The hallway was drenched in blood. It felt like everything had turned red. Your vision was a hazy maroon. 

“You did what was necessary.” Was all he said, his eyes trained on the dead body before them. 

                You nodded, your sobs turning to a numbness that spread down your body. It traveled from your heart through your fingertips, turning them a frozen blue, and you were freezing. Could you ever scrub the redness from your hands? The crimson scarlet that stained your vision? 

“Where are they?” You managed. 

“Who?”

“Where are the bodies? I want to bury them.” you said quietly. 

                 He nodded. The lights flickered and then shut off. The hall was drenched in darkness. You wanted to be scared, you wanted to have the energy to scream and cry, but you couldn’t. You sat there like a rock as you heard Jimin’s footsteps enter the house. Hoseok was already up and Yoongi was tugging you to your feet. 

“I know you’re in shock right now, but you need to live, Y/N.” He said, his voice husky. 

“No, what’s the point.” You moaned. “I can’t live with myself like this.”

“You did what you needed to do.” He repeated, pulling you down the stairs.

                Hoseok crept to the right and bolted for the front door. Yoongi and you followed close behind. Jimin was knocking open the doors in the hallway. You ran after Yoongi, who was running faster than your legs could keep up.

              You stumbled and tripped, but kept up with him. Hoseok skidded to a stop. You stopped as well, catching your breath. The images of your knife meeting skin flashed through your mind and you took a few steps to the side and emptied your stomach. Yoongi watched you carefully. 

“So, you’ve killed Jungkook.” Jimin’s voice reached your ears. You whipped around to look at him. 

                He was wearing an eerie smile, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. The wind rustled the leaves of the trees. He held a knife, but it was still a clean silver. 

“Jimin, why?” Hosoek whispered.

                The roadway was close, just a little longer and you’d be there. You could make a break for it, run to your car. Your hands trembled, the blood drying under your fingernails. 

“It’s over, Jimin.” Yoongi stood firmly. He took your hand in his and gave it a squeeze. “I called the cops, they’ll be here any minute.” 

                Jimin’s grin turned to a sneer, his face contorting into an expression you never thought possible on the sweet man’s face. It was a look of rage, frustration, and...blood lust. He started towards Yoongi, knife in hand, when the flash of headlights showed through the forest. 

“Hands in the air! Drop your weapon!” A man shouted, jumping out of the car.

               Your heart thrummed against your chest. Jimin chuckled a little, dropping the knife and holding his hands above his head. 

“You win this time, Yoongi.” He laughed. The policeman went around, cuffing Jimin and taking him into the car.

As the police got your details, you stared at the man in the backseat. He hummed loudly, eyes tracking you like an animal. Caught in a lie.  

[meganlpie]

Breakfast Interrupted

Another Wattpad request. I do not own ANY Harry Potter characters. They are the property of J.K.Rowling. 

Warnings: Fluff, brief, non-descriptive mentions of torture (Bellatrix is involved).

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x reader

You were the one good thing Draco had in his life at the moment. You were his happiness. When he had to cast a Patronus, times with you were Draco’s happy memory. So when his mother agreed to letting you visit during your break from Hogwarts, Draco jumped at the chance to spend time with you, especially since the Dark Lord hardly stayed at the manor anymore.

         Draco was lying in bed, not sleeping as usual, when he heard the soft knocking. “Draco?” He smiled at the sound of your hushed voice before he beckoned you to come in. “Can’t sleep?” You shook your head. Draco scooted over and lifted the sheet, silently inviting you into his bed. You didn’t need any further persuading. You were by his side in an instant.

         You sighed in content, making Draco laugh softly. His fingers instantly began to trace patterns on your back. “I like this,” you muttered, “Away from all the fear and panic. In our own little bubble.”  Draco’s fingers stopped for a moment before they continued. You knew exactly what he and his family were, but you never held it against him and he didn’t have the courage to ask you why.

         "So do I, Y/N. I-I love you.“ You looked up at him and smiled. "I love you too.” Draco pulled you a little bit closer and held you just a little tighter. You were right when you said you were in your own little bubble of happiness. Draco wanted to stay in that bubble as long as possible before returning to reality. Outside of his bedroom, Draco had to be that sneering bully everyone thought he was. Only you got to see the real Draco. The seventeen year old boy who was scared for the future.  "So, since we both can’t sleep, how about we just talk? I know something is bothering you.“ Draco sighed as his kissed the top of your head. He knew how much you loved it.

         The two of you remained like that for hours. You tucked into Draco’s side, his fingers running up and down your spine as you talked about your worries and concerns. You talked about anything and everything under the sun until you both finally drifted off to sleep. It truly was one of the only ways Draco could fall asleep now; you being in his arms.

         You had no idea how long you slept, but you woke up to the sound of Draco talking to someone. Your eyes fluttered open and you smiled at the house elf who was setting down a tray of what you assumed was breakfast. Draco turned to you and smiled. "Morning. Or afternoon rather.”

         "Afternoon. Breakfast in bed?“ Draco nodded, bringing the tray over and sitting back down next to you. You gave him a quick kiss on the lips before turning your attention to the food. "What are your plans for the day?” you asked in between bites. Before Draco could answer, there was a knock on his door. You weren’t technically supposed to be in his room, but you didn’t have time to hide either. The door burst open and Narcissa stood there breathless. Her eyes met yours for a brief moment and you could see the disapproval in them. It didn’t last long however before she turned back to Draco.

         "Draco, you’re needed downstairs. Dress quickly.“ With furrowed brows, Draco rose from the bed. "I’ll go. Meet you at the stairs?” Draco nodded, prompting you to leave and dress as well. You met up with Draco who looked tense and frightened. You gently took his hand and gave it a squeeze. It would be the last time you’d be allowed to touch him. His aunt wasn’t fond of any type of physical affection.

         You followed silently after Draco. “Draco, there you are!” Bellatrix exclaimed. “Draco, this is important. Look.” You followed Bellatrix’s gaze to the prisoner in front of her. To you there was no doubt that it was none other than Harry Potter. Granted, you were closer to Harry than Draco would have liked.

         "Is is him? Is it Potter?“ Bellatrix asked. Only then did you realize you had tuned out of the conversation. Your eyes flickered to Draco. Draco discreetly met your gaze for a moment. "I-I can’t tell. Sorry. It might be him. But it might not.” Bellatrix and Lucius both looked infuriated. Lucius rolled up his sleeve anyway, prepared to call the Dark Lord. “Father, is that wise? We are already in trouble with the Dark Lord as it is. If we call him here for nothing, he will be angry.”

         You wanted to smile and cheer for Draco. You didn’t know why he hadn’t turned Harry in, but you were proud of him. He really was the Draco you knew underneath all the fear and forced obedience. You hadn’t noticed Bellatrix staring at you. “What about you? Y/N, isn’t it?” You jumped a bit at the sound of your name being spat out.

         "Do you recognize this boy as Potter?“ She grabbed your arm and dragged you closer. From the corner of your eye, you could see Draco trying to keep his cool. You were forced to look down at a swollen-faced Harry. Clearly someone had hit him with a jinx. "Is. It. Potter?!” Bellatrix shouted, making you jump again.

         "I really don’t know. It’s hard to tell, isn’t it? It’s possible it’s him. Or it could be someone else.“ Bellatrix scoffed before pushing you away toward Draco. "Return to you breakfast, Draco. Y/N,” Narcissa ordered softly. As Draco lead you away, you heard Ron’s screams for Bellatrix to leave Hermione alone.

         Those screams followed you all the way back to Draco’s room. As soon as you were sure you wouldn’t be heard, you turned to Draco. “You didn’t tell them that was Harry. Why?” Draco just shrugged, but you weren’t going to let him off that easy. You placed a gently hand on his shoulder. “Draco, please?” Draco looked into your eyes and pondered for a moment. He didn’t know how to tell you that he had done it for you. He didn’t want you to see that he wasn’t the good person you thought it was. But you weren’t stupid.

         "Draco, is it because I was there?“ He sighed and nodded. Your brows furrowed. "I don’t believe that. Are you saying that, if I hadn’t been standing there, you would have given him up?” Draco shrugged again. “I don’t know. Maybe not.” You wrapped your arms around him. “I know you wouldn’t have.”

         "How could you possibly know that?“ You looked at him again. "Because I know you, Draco Malfoy. I know this was never what you wanted in life. I know that deep down, you’re scared just like I am. I know that you are a kind, compassionate man. You could have easily been sorted into Hufflepuff as well as Slytherin. And I know that you love deeply. Anyone capable of that can’t be the evil villain they are trying to fool everyone else into thinking they are. I know because I know you. And I love you.”

         Draco kissed you fully on the lips. You only parted when another scream of agony ripped through the manor. “We have to do something. Your aunt is torturing Hermione.” Draco’s grip on you tightened briefly as he thought of something. “Dobby.” You cocked your head to the side in confusion. “Dobby?” Draco nodded sheepishly. “Our old house elf. Potter tricked Father into freeing him, but he still comes to visit me. My father doesn’t know, but I liked Dobby. H-He was the closest thing to a friend I had growing up.”

         For a moment you didn’t say anything. “See if you can get him here. If can help Harry and his friends, we owe it to them to try. I think…I think Harry is the only one who can save us all.” Draco nodded. “And then, we can finish our breakfast.” Draco laughed softly at that. It was another thing he loved about you. Your ability to make him smile and laugh.

         "Always thinking with your stomach.“ You huffed, but the smile on your lips told Draco you weren’t really offended by his comment. "I love you, Y/N.” Your smile widened a little. “And I love you. And when this is all over, we can live in our little bubble forever. With no more interrupted breakfasts.” The thought of spending forever with you flashed in Draco’s mind and made his smile even more.

(a/n: I hope you like it! Obviously I changed the script a bit to better fit the reader and plot into the fic.)

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