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boneblushed · 1 month ago

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And, boy, you got her

synopsis Rafe’s in charge of the pledges during Rush Week. Hazing isn’t a thing. Making you feel so high school is.

wc 3.6K

a/n omgggg Euro Trip Rafe <3333 I was living on pledgetok last week and just couldn’t not write something about it

“Holy shit,” Noah mutters, surveying the crowd over his red cup, “I swear they get scrawnier every single year.”

Rafe nods gravely, taking a pull of his beer. “It’s fucking grim.”

“Like — fuck, look at those two.” Noah gestures toward the shaded veranda, a fresh coat of gloss making its balustrades shine. Huddled in one corner, attempting to take up as little space as possible, two boys donning UNC merch survey the crowd in tandem. “We weren’t that fucking scraggy as freshman, were we?”

“You two weren’t,” Kelce snorts, coming up behind them. Topper brings up his rear, mid-bite of his loaded hotdog. “Thornton definitely was though.”

“Oi!” Topper protests, his words garbled by half chewed sausage. “S’wasn’t that bad. C’mon.” He turns to Rafe then, swallowing his mouthful. “But seriously, you locked in any potentials?”

Rafe furrows his brow thoughtfully, looking back over Delta Chi’s yard. Unsurprisingly, it’s far too early to say. Though the barbecue that they’re hosting is a good way for pledges to mingle, it isn’t exactly hazing material; they’re going to have to get creative.

“Maybe,” he replies finally, shrugging. “We’ll just have to see I guess.”

He tips back his red cup again, swallowing the last dregs of beer before acquiescing. As he’s about to announce his need for a refill, a few pledges sidle up to their group, looking hopeful.

Not overtly, of course. Painstakingly hiding their eagerness behind an armour of insouciance.

“Rafe,” the tallest of the three greets, handing him another red cup. The golden liquid inside it brims to the surface, its white foam dissolving in mocking. “Hey, bro. You need another?”

Rafe raises his eyebrows, hiding a grin. “Shit. Table service already?”

The boy grins in tandem, looking a little sheepish. “Big fan, man. I’m Dylan.” He motions at the two guys on either side of him, wearing matching squints and backwards caps. “This is Rahul and Xav, we’re all here from Trinity.”

“Durham and Chapel Hill?” Noah enquires, whistling approvingly when they nod. “Fuck, we used to love having away games there. Those Trin cheerleaders…”

“Haha, shit, what was that chic’s name again?” Rafe asks then, a pull of mirth as he turns to Noah. “The one you messed around with in junior year?”

“Blake,” Noah answers, groaning in a mock-wistful sort of way. “They didn’t make ‘em like her at the Academy.”

Rafe snorts, sending the pledges a sage glance. “Nah. They made ‘em better.”

Noah raises his eyebrows, his brown eyes glinting with amusement. “Oh, so we are allowed to objectify your girl then, Cameron?”

“Damn, so you’re tied down?” Xavier pipes up, his voice gravelly and low on purpose. Overtly masculine, like he’s trying hard to be red-blooded. “Your girl doesn’t mind you partying?”

Rafe frowns. “Why would she mind?”

“Uh,” Xavier balks, pulling at the bill of his backwards cap, “shit. I don’t know… like, doesn’t she get pissed that you’re constantly around sorority girls?”

“HA —” Topper laughs, and then he falters, thwarted by Rafe’s warning glower. “Uh.” He scratches the back of his neck. “Let’s just say Cameron doesn’t give her any reasons to be suspicious.”

“Because he’s obsessed with her,” Noah adds, unperturbed by Rafe’s expression. He pauses then, an amusing idea popping into his head. “Which means…” he continues, returning Rafe’s glare with a trust me one of his own, “you guys should be too.”

Rafe doesn’t trust him. Like, at all. He sends him a bewildered look, unsure where he’s going with this. “White — what?”

Noah ignores him. He downs his beer and crushes the red cup in his hand, deftly aiming it at the nearest bag of trash. “So,” he says, eyeing the three pledges with interest. “How serious are you guys about rushing Delt?”

“Pretty serious, bro,” Rahul answers, looking to his friends for support. “Think we got a shot?”

Noah throws his arm around Rafe’s neck, his strong bicep taut as he shoots them a grin. “Depends, man, I might know how we could figure that out though.” He begins to steer Rafe away from them, sending one last, faux-somber look over his shoulder. “Be right back, yeah?”

Rafe, whose bewilderment is quickly giving way curiosity, allows himself to be marshalled out of earshot without complaints.

He shrugs Noah off of him once they’re on the verandah, his features ever-bemused as he turns toward him. “The fuck was that about?”

“Bro, I know exactly how we’re going to haze these motherfuckers,” Noah replies, his voice lilted with mirth. “You know… without breaking any rules.”

The bewildered expression on Rafe’s face doesn’t acquiesce. “Okay… how?”

“Instead of getting them to be our bitches,” he answers, a mischievous grin making home on his features. “We’re going to get them to be our girlfriends’ bitches.”

Rafe frowns. “Bro. What?”

“Cameron, it’s perfect.” He swipes Rafe’s beer from his hand and takes a generous pull. “What do frat guys hate more than being called scrawny as fuck?”

“Uh. Doing assignments?” Rafe answers blankly, still frowning. He doesn’t have it in him to think too hard about Noah’s profferance. He’s on hour two of manning this boring event, hour four since he bid you farewell, and all Rafe can bear to think about right now is the imminent taste of your peach-scented lips.

Noah shakes his head. “No, dumbass. Being called a simp.”

“Wrong,” Rafe answers, “I don’t mind that shit at all.”

“You’re the exception,” Noah replies matter-of-factly. “You and Y/N have always been the exception. C’mon, I’m talking about us,” he places his palm over his breastbone solemnly, “mere mortals.”

Rafe narrows his eyes. “Fuck off. How would that even work?”

“We…” Noah pauses to think, a slightly furrow to his brow, “alright, I got it. We assign the pledges to our girlfriends, one by one. Give them a week to make a good impression — you know, carry their bags, buy them flowers, all that sentimental crap you love.”

“You really think the guys’ll agree to this?” Rafe asks, sounding reluctant. “I mean… I don’t know if I’m alright with a bunch of idiots holding doors for my girl.”

“But you’re an idiot that holds a door for your girl,” Noah answers, not missing a beat.

“Fuck off, White.”

“I’m serious. It’ll be funny. And look… if you’re worried about Y/N, I know she’ll find it adorable as fuck.”

Rafe shakes his head. “No way. She didn’t find high-school me adorable.”

Noah raises his eyebrows skeptically. “You’d be surprised, man. Besides, these guys aren’t going to be like high-school you. High-school you was a douchebag.”

“A douchebag who got the girl.”

“A douchebag who got the girl after he stopped acting like a douchebag.” Noah smirks then. “A douchebag who’d give all these fuckers a run for their money if he was pledging Delt this year.”

Rafe grins in tandem, stealing his beer back to take a big swig. “Alright, shit, alright. Harmless shit though, right? Chivalry and all that?”

“Harmless as hell,” Noah agrees. “C’mon. You really think any of these guys has the balls to make a pass at one of our girls?”

“Easy for you to say, White. You don’t fucking have a girl.”

Noah frowns. “What d’you mean? Aren’t we going halves on Y/N?”

“Holy fuck, Noah,” Rafe groans, almost spitting out his mouthful of beer. “If Y/N heard the shit you said when she wasn’t around, she’d probably kill you.”

“Nah,” Noah replies, seemingly unperturbed. “She loves me.”

“Well,” Rafe says grimly, crushing his own empty cup in his head. “She might do now, but she sure as hell won’t by the end of this week.”

—

The first time it happens, you’re understandably perplexed.

You’re en-route to your 9AM, bag strap denting your left shoulder, when a stranger falls into your step and swipes it from your figure. It’s a motion so quick and deft you initially think you’re getting mugged.

As you double back in bewilderment, he proffers, “you alright with this?”

“Uh.” You balk. “What?”

“Your bag,” he answers, readjusting it on his own shoulder. He seems earnest. Nervous, even. “It looked heavy. I can carry it to class for you, if you want?”

You allow a pause to take him in.

“No, I’m…” another pause, more of his demeanour on display. Backwards cap, crisp white polo shirt, smile lines exposing the ghost of a grin on his face. A familiar grin, the kind that pulls a soft, maudlin feeling from your ribcage. “Look, if you’re trying to hit on me —”

“No, no,” he interrupts quickly, his eyes widening in a panic. “Shit — no, don’t tell Cameron I’m hitting on you. I’m just…”

“Wait a minute,” your eyes narrow accusatorially, because of course he’s behind this chivalrous display, “you know my boyfriend?”

The stranger grimaces sheepishly. “Uh. Yeah.”

“Explain.”

“It’s… uh… well — basically, I’m pledging Delt,” he answers haltingly, self effacement juxtaposing his frat boy exterior. “Rafe’s asked us to be all gentlemanly and shit for pledge week, I don’t know. To you guys, I mean. Like… the current frat member’s girls?”

“Oh my god,” you groan. “No he hasn’t.”

“Shit.” He looks far more nervous now that he did five minutes ago. “He didn’t tell you?”

“No,” you grumble, pulling your phone out of your pocket. “No he did not.”

Rafe’s on speed dial. He picks up on the first ring, the way he always does for you.

“Hey baby,” his gravelly timbre crackles through the phone, the low hum of frat house chatter audible in the background. “What’s up?”

“Don’t even. You know what’s up Rafael.”

A pause. When Rafe speaks again, his voice is quick and placating. “It was Noah’s idea.”

“Of course it was.”

“Dylan’s not playing up, is he?”

You raise your eyebrows at the stranger then, assessing him faux-suspiciously. “No way. He’s doing a better job than you ever did in high school.”

“Woah woah woah,” Rafe replies, a playful lilt to his tone. “That fucker’s not calling you dream girl or something, is he?”

“Worse. He’s being respectful of my boundaries.”

“Oh shit. I fucking knew this was a bad idea.”

You shake your head in exasperation, trying not to laugh. The poor stranger’s still standing there at attention, your leather bag looking ridiculous on his arm. “Rafe. Tell me he’s the only one.”

“He’s one…” Rafe starts slowly, sounding sheepish, “of three. Four, counting me.” In the background, you hear Noah pipe up and add, “five, Cameron. How could you forget me?”

“You’re un-fucking-believable, Noah White,” you shout through the phone.

“I love you too, Y/N,” Noah sings, and then he groans, no doubt shoved to the side by his indignant best friend. It’s Rafe on the phone again, voice sweet and thick as molasses as he says, “they’ll behave, baby, and make your life easier in the process. I promise.”

“What?” You accuse, fighting back a smile. “Like you did in high school?”

“Fuck no,” he replies, the grin on his face audible. “They’ll be nothing like I was, sweetheart.”

“What?” You tease. “Absolutely insufferable?”

“And absolutely in love with you.”

You raise your eyebrows. “How can you be so sure?”

“They’re under strict instruction. Have a shiner waiting for them if they pull something funny.”

Another exasperated laugh bubbles out of you, and you begin walking forward again, motioning at the boy named Dylan to follow in your step. “Right. So the boundaries are on purpose, are they?”

“The respect, too. No being inappropriate and charming at the same time.”

“And why not?” You ask faux-indignantly. “What if I like being objectified?”

“Can’t have you falling in love with them, can I?”

“Hey,” you argue, frowning stubbornly. “That is not what made me fall in love with you.”

“It isn’t?”

“Well,” you balk, “not solely that.”

“You’re fucking sexy,” he recites devotedly, almost yells, and you can hear the collective groan of his frat brothers in the background. “Are you wearing those Lululemon pants right now? Point is, I’m thinking about your ass in those Lululemon pants right now.”

“Rafe, I was fucking kidding. Stop.”

“No you weren’t.” You know he’s right; you can picture that stupid smirk on his face. It makes your cheeks warm. Asshole. “You’re blushing now, aren’t you?”

“Anyway.”

“Anyway,” Rafe agrees. “No funny business, alright? Just lots of good deeds.”

Good deeds. You suppose you could get used to good deeds, the embarrassment of attention notwithstanding.

You let out a defeated sigh, halting in front of your 9AM class. “You so, so owe me.”

“I so, so love you,” Rafe replies, and it makes your pulse leap; you’ll never get used to this feeling. “See you later, yeah?”

“Uh huh. Love you.”

Dylan waits until you’ve ended the call before saying farewell, dutifully handing your leather bag back to you and giving you a mock salute. The way he does it, all sheepish and genuine with a charming smile on his face, makes your heart twinge in a junior year of high-school sort of way. You’re feeling sentimental. It’s sweet.

You’re reminded of Rafe before he was yours, stumbling over himself to win your favour. Confusing chivalry with courting, objectifying you in the name of flirting.

Insufferable, but sweet nonetheless. You digress.

—

The next time it happens, you’re ambushed at your favourite cafe.

A dutiful Delta Phi pledge has already queued up and purchased you coffee, handing it over to you with a blushing bouquet of tulips.

You raise your eyebrows at him questioningly. “Is that…?”

“Uh, an oat iced coffee with vanilla?” He asks, sounding nervous. “I asked Cameron for your order.”

“Didn’t ask me about pastries, though,” a voice behind you adds, rough and familiar with a sweetness around the edges. Rafe circles your waist with ease and pulls you into his chest, sponging a soft kiss to your temple before handing you a brown bag.

A glossy, Daily Bread sticker shines on its exterior proudly.

Your eyes widen in surprise, and you look up at him expectantly. “Tell me you didn’t drive back home for a single croissant.”

“I didn’t drive back home for a single croissant,” Rafe replies. He grins then, looking that same, sheepish genuine that pulls a maudlin feeling. “I drove back home for twenty.”

“Rafe. Why?”

“Because you like Daily Bread,” he replies matter-of-factly, like it’s obvious.

You shake your head in exasperation, tip-toeing up to press a quick kiss to his lips. It becomes less quick against better judgement. He tastes like spearmint gum and cold brew, the hand he has held to your waist tightening ever so slightly. Slipping under your shirt, massaging the soft skin he finds there expertly, discreetly. Too much for 8am on a Wednesday morning, sans coffee. Your face feels on fire. You pull away in a hurry.

Meanwhile, the freshman pledge balks at the exchange, looking out of place.

Rafe frowns bemusedly at your diffidence, only clocking the reason when you nod over at him.

“I’ll walk her over Ben,” he says, dismissing him. “You’re off the hook, bro.”

“Shit.” The boy named Ben grimaces; he needs to get his hours in, and doesn’t deem this a fair ambush. He scrambles for an excuse. “Right. Can I still give her the flowers?”

“Of course you can,” you beam, accepting them gratefully. You look up at Rafe then, asking, “And if I want to walk with Benjamin?”

Rafe grins down at you, disbelieving. “Do you, baby?”

“As a matter of fact, yes,” you say, wriggling out of his grasp. “He got me flowers.”

Rafe falters, his eyes widening in surprise. “Sweetheart, I got you a croissant.”

“Ben got me a coffee,” you hedge. “And flowers.”

“Y/N,” he placates.

“Rafael,” you echo, unperturbed by his exasperation. You take a sip your coffee. “I’ll see you later, okay? Ben’s ticking off a good deed this morning.”

Poor Ben looks helpless, taking the brunt of Rafe’s glare as you motion for him to hold the door for you.

“C’mon Ben, we’re going to be late.”

“But…” Ben pauses, his eyes flitting to Rafe nervously. “This is fine, right?”

Rafe sighs, drawing his bottom lip between his teeth in defeat. “Yeah, bro. You’re good.” He looks to you, then. “You’re unbelievable.”

You smile sweetly. “I’m wearing the Lulu leggings.”

“Oh I noticed,” Rafe replies, his blue eyes falling down your figure in slow, reverent paces. “It’s why I want to be the one holding the door for you.”

You roll your eyes. “Men only want one thing.”

Rafe grins. “Yeah. You.”

—

By the end of the week, you’re more used to the chivalry than you’re willing to admit.

You’ve enjoyed free iced lattes and filled your dorm with gorgeous bouquets, no door left unopened and no walk to class left unescorted. And really, every pledge you’ve come across has been pleasant and unassuming, albeit absolutely terrified of Rafe and therefore extra obliging on instinct.

They’ve even offered to do favours for you, got you into sought after Pilates classes and done last minute grocery runs on your behalf. It’s put you in this constant state of mild exasperation, like you can’t believe you’re worthy of this much love and chivalry.

It’s exactly the way you felt back in high-school with Rafe, and this revelation pulls lots of funny feelings from your stomach, from your chest. Feelings you’ve forgotten that are all yours and all his. Because it’s strange, having someone other than Rafe taking care of you. (Or Noah.) It’s strange because it makes you realise just how much he adored you back in the day.

These emotions come to a head at the pledge week closing bash, Delta Phi lit up with fluorescent lights in technicolour. Inebriation ensues, beer pong follows, and an impromptu DJ deck plays endless songs with heavy bass.

Rafe Cameron has you pulled close, as always, the taut muscle of his forearm pressing heat to your exposed waist. You’re a few drinks down and hyperaware of his proximity, ankles touching, thighs too, torsos close with your head resting on his shoulder.

“I think I like Dylan the best,” you announce suddenly.

“Yeah?” Rafe asks, kneading your skin absentmindedly.

You nod. “He’s sweet. Told me all about his girl back home.”

Rafe grins then, shaking his head bemusedly. “You’re such a sucker for love, sweetheart.”

“Hey!” You glare up at him faux-incensed, looking accusatory. “So are you!”

“Shhhh,” Rafe murmurs playfully. “Not so loud, you’ll fuck up my street cred.”

You scoff. “Since when do you care about street cred?”

“Shit, you’re right,” Rafe agrees easily, leaning down to draw your lips in for a kiss. He’s all patchouli and musk, beer on his tongue and unchaste intentions in his touch. When he pulls away, his lips are still an inch from yours, his voice rougher than it was a second ago, “I don’t care. Like, at fucking all.”

“Good,” Noah snorts from behind him. “‘Cause you never had any to begin with, bro.”

“There you are,” you say then, eyeing Noah over Rafe’s shoulder. There’s a mock accusatory expression on your face, softened by mirth and the alcohol on your lips. “Have you been hiding from me, White?”

Noah grins sheepishly, taking a pull of his beer. “Maybe.”

You narrow your eyes. “Tell me. When did you become worse than Rafael?”

“I didn’t become worse!” Noah insists. “He just became better. You know, after he got the girl.”

You make a face. “Smooth.”

“Hey,” Noah raises his arms in surrender, looking faux-somber, “someone’s gotta teach the next generation, don’t they? I’m committed to their education.” He raises his eyebrows then, a mischievous glint in his eye. “C’mon, don’t act like you didn’t love it.”

Rafe grins. “She totally fucking loved it.”

You aim a glare at the pair of them, failing miserably at hiding your amusement. “So maybe I didn’t mind it. Sue me.”

“Of course you loved it,” Noah says, throwing his arm around you and pulling you into his side. “You love Cameron, don’t you?”

You narrow your eyes. “Opinions vary.”

“You love me?” Noah tries.

“You fucking wish.”

“Everyone fucking wishes,” Rafe says then, throwing his arm around you too, your figure wedged between the pair of them. Frat boy sandwich, you think tiredly. If high-school you could see you now, you’re pretty sure she’d have an aneurysm. “Especially when you’re in Lululemon.”

“Rafe.”

“I’m kidding. Not really. They all love you, you know that, yeah?”

You look up at him questioningly. “The pledges?”

“Uh huh,” Rafe replies, raising his eyebrows at you. “This is what I was afraid of, you know.”

“What?” You ask, lifting yours in tandem.

“Everyone falling in love with you, like I did in high school.”

You scrunch up your nose at him, your cheeks warming in diffidence. “No one’s fallen in love with me, don’t be silly.”

“I have,” Noah pipes up unhelpfully.

“Shut up, Noah. I saw you talking to Georgia just before.”

Noah grins, pulling away and offering you a mock salute. “Guilty as charged.” He turns to survey the crowd, spotting her figure on the fairy-light lit porch. “Speaking of…”

And he’s gone before you’re able to tease him any further, leaving Rafe to guide you out of his side and into his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck, his hands exerting a warm, steady pressure into the curve of your waist.

“As I was saying,” you continue, frowning up at him playfully. “No one’s fallen in love with me.”

Rafe’s unconvinced. His gaze skates down your figure again, a tortured groan falling from his throat. “Have you seen you, sweetheart?”

You roll your eyes, face hot and self conscious. “And even if they have,” you add, “it doesn’t matter.”

Rafe raises his eyebrows. “It doesn’t?”

“No way. Because I’m in love with you, not any of them.”

Rafe grins then, a devastatingly handsome look on his face. “I’ll never get used to hearing that.”

“I’ll never get used to saying it.”

#rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe x reader

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alisonwritesimagines · 10 months ago

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You're Losing Me ~Simon Riley Imagine~

Summary: Simon falls in love with Johnny, only to unintentionally hurt you in the process.

Author's Note: This was inspired by @houseofoddballs trauma bond fic they made which got me listening to sad, angsty songs while writing this at work. Also, please let me know if ya'll want a part two for this.

Reader's Pronouns: She/Her

Warnings: MAJOR ANGST, like gut wrenching angst, cheating, unexpected pregnancy, slight happy ending for reader in the end in a way

Side Note: This is a secondary blog. If you comment a question down below, I will not answer since this is not the main blog. Please send the question to my inbox if you want a response back!

Do not repost this anywhere!

He was your Simon. No one else's. You two had met when he was on leave and fell in love. So by definition, he was yours first. It sounds selfish but when you barely get to see him due to him going on missions on months on end, you'd understand why you want to hold onto him as much as you can.

You watched as your Simon walk in together with Soap once again. This was the third time this week where he had claimed he was busy only to be seen with Soap afterwards.

"Sorry I kept him long, bonnie," Johnny apologized again.

"It's okay. Glad you two had fun," you tell him.

You liked Soap. He was a good guy and he understood what your Simon had to go through during their time in the military. There was nothing wrong with him. Until he and your Simon got closer and closer. You noticed it from the way they interacted with each other.

But you would never say anything to them. You loved Simon. He was everything to you. You trusted him. But you began to notice something between the two. It was obvious even if they were trying to hide it. So if keeping your Simon meant that you had to stay silent, so be it.

“I’m going out,” Simon told you exactly at 5pm. You noticed each time he told you he was going out, it was always at 5pm.

“Again? Simon, I was hoping we can have a date night?” You tell him with a small frown. You couldn’t remember the last time you two had gone on a proper date with each other.

“Sorry love. I already got plans. How about I make it up to you tomorrow yeah? Just the two of us and we can do whatever you want,” Simon offers.

“Okay. That’s fine,” you nodded with a small smile.

“Don’t need to wait up on me,” Simon tells you. You nodded once again before he put on his coat to head out.

“I love you, Simon,” you tell him. Simon stared at you a little with a soft smile. But there was something else in that smile.

“I love you too,” Simon tells you before leaving your shared apartment.

Simon felt guilty. Leaving you alone for a night with Soap. He loved you both but he didn’t know if you’d be okay in getting into a relationship with both him and Soap. Had had to think of you first since you were there for him first before Soap.

“You okay, Lt?” Johnny asked. The two sat in the back of a bar at a booth, sitting next to each other.

“I just feel guilty,” Simon tells him.

“About?”

“I feel like I’m lying to Y/n,” Simon tells him.

“Simon-“

“But as much as I want her, I want you too. I need you both.”

“I’m here for you Simon. And you know she loves you too. I don’t want to hurt her either. She’s a good woman and you both need each other in a way,” Johnny said.

Johnny could at least acknowledge that even though he and Simon loved each other, he didn’t want to hurt you. You were kind and caring. Not to mention you were there first before Johnny.

Simon felt guilty, the more he began to drink with Johnny the guilt began to go away a little. The next thing he knew, he’s waking up next to Johnny naked in Johnny’s bed at four in the morning. Now he was more guilty and had dug his grave.

——

The next day, you knew what he did. And Simon knew that you knew. It wasn’t the fact he came home in the early morning or the silence that made him know that you knew. It was the hickeys on his neck that he didn’t hide. He was too busy to get back home to you first to even look at the hickeies Johnny gave him.

You lied in your bed crying as your heart was broken. Simon sat on the other side of the door, listening to your crying. It broke him or hear you cry. He never meant to hurt you but he did. The mental pain was far worse than the physical pain and he knew it.

“Love, can we talk?” Simon you.

“Ghost, leave me alone please,” you tell him. Simon got up the moment you used his code name. He didn’t want you to see him as Ghost. He was your Simon. Your Simon that you love. He wanted you to know that you didn’t loose him. He was here with you and begging for your forgiveness.

“Love. Please. Don’t call me that. Open the door please,” Simon begged as he tried to open the door.

“Ghost, I need a moment. Please. Just go to Soap if you need to,” you tell him, still hurt from what you saw this morning.

Simon’s heart broke from your words. Yes he was in love with Johnny but he didn’t want to run to Johnny whenever you two had a problem. Even before Johnny you two were able to work things out whenever you had a fight. But this was different. You didn’t use his code name in anger like you would do.

You used his code name as if you didn’t recognize him anymore.

“I’m not going anywhere. I’ll stay here until you’re ready to talk,” Simon tells you before walking to the living room.

You didn’t come out of the room till 9pm. When you walked out, you saw Simon sitting on the couch with red eyes. He looked over at you as you looked worse than he did. He got up before getting on his knees in front of you. You had never seen him this vulnerable before.

“Love, I’m sorry. Please, I’m sorry. I’ll do anything. Please,” Simon begged. He couldn’t let you leave him. He needed you. Although, he wasn't sure if he could say the same thing about you needing him.

“What do you want me to say, Ghost?” You asked him.

“Don’t call me that. I’m Simon. I’m your Simon,” he tells you as he stood up. He held your hands in his before kissing them. Trying to cling onto you as much as he could before you could slip away from his fingers any more than you already had.

“Are you?” You asked him.

“Yes. I’ll do anything to prove it to you,” Simon begged. You stayed quiet before walking to the kitchen to grab something to eat.

“Let me, love,” Simon said before going into the kitchen to make you something. You lied on the couch until Simon had food ready for you.

It was going well for you both for a month before Simon had to go on a mission. He spent his last couple of days, letting you know how much he loved you in the bed to remind you that he loved you and how much he needed you.

“I love you so much, Y/n,” Simon tells you.

“I love you too, Simon,” you tell him.

——

The moment Simon had told you that he was coming back, you were excited. You had news to tell him that you hoped he would choose you. It was selfish yes but you were human. It was a natural thing. And you hoped that your news would bring you two closer.

But the moment Simon came home, you knew something was wrong. Instead of giving you a kiss that would eventually lead into the bedroom like how he used to do, he kissed your cheek and told you he had to shower.

He had left his phone on his stand while he showered. You weren’t the type to look through his phone but you had to know. You unlocked his phone to see the messages he had sent to Johnny.

Simon 5:00pm: I miss you.

Simon 10:45pm: Can I see you Johnny?

Johnny 10:46pm: Are you sure?

Simon 10:47pm: I need you right now.

Simon 11:34pm: I need you. Can I come over?

Simon 1:05pm: I can pick you up before we head back to base.

Johnny 1:07pm: Sounds good.

Simon 3:08pm: Just got home. I love you.

Johnny 3:10pm: I love you too. Let me know when you want to meet up again.

You noticed the dates and times. They were all while you and Simon were supposedly patching things up before he had to go on a mission. How many times has he snuck off to see Johnny? How many times did he tell you that he loved you that now felt like lies? Were they together intimately when they were on their mission? The last text being more recent with Simon telling Johnny that he loved him hurt the most.

You were a fool. A goddamn beautiful and forgiving fool. But this was the pushing point.

———

The flat felt colder and somehow smaller. Simon noticed all of your little things were gone the moment he came back from the gym. He knew something was wrong. He rushed to the bedroom to find it tidied up but empty.

Your nightstand no longer had your stuff on or in it. Your side of the closet was empty. All his hoodies and shirts that you had taken from him was hung or neatly folded and put away. It was as if you were never here.

Simon noticed a letter on his nightstand making him walk over and sit on his side of the bed. He took the letter in his hand before opening it up.

Simon,

I know you choosing between me and Johnny will be hard on you. So let me make the decision for you, go ahead and choose him. I don’t think I can continue fighting for your love even though I would’ve done anything and everything for you. I love you Simon. But I can’t face anymore emotional neglect and keep waiting for you to return the love I’ve been giving you.

Am I hurt? Yes. Am I surprised you fell for Johnny? No. He can understand you in many ways I would never be able to understand. I just wished I was enough for you.

Please do not contact me or find me. I think it’s best for me to move on and let myself heal. I know it seems selfish but I need this.

Goodbye Simon.

- Y/n

Simon took out his phone and quickly called you. Maybe it wasn’t too late?

“We're sorry you have reached a number that has been disconnected or is no longer in service.”

His worse fear has come true due to his selfishness. You were gone from his life.

———

Five years have gone since Simon last heard you. He had told Johnny he needed some time before continuing their relationship together the moment you left him. Five years since you left him but not a day had gone by without Simon thinking about you.

Were you doing okay? Were you in a safe place? Have you moved on officially?

It was now his and Johnny ‘s leave and they had to grab some groceries for the week. While Simon had gone to grab a couple of stuff, Johnny made his way to another aisle before feeling someone bump into his legs. Soap looked down at the small child in front of him. His eyes widen as he saw the small boy who looked exactly like Simon minus his hair color.

“Sorry sir,” the little boy said as he backed up.

“You okay lad?” Soap asked him.

“Yes. I’m just trying to get those cookies,” the little boy said as he pointed at the package that was on a shelf higher than him.

“Oh uh. Here,” Soap tells him as he handed him the cookies.

“Thank you!” The little boy smiled before running off to a man who had appeared from the other end of the aisle.

“You ready, Johnny?” Simon asked him as he walked over to him. He put the food he grabbed into the cart before looking at Johnny.

“Get this Lt. I just met a kid who looked exactly like you,” Soap tells him.

“Doubt it,” Simon scoffed unconvinced.

“I swear it!”

Simon shook his head before his eyes landed on someone familiar. His eyes widen, making Johnny look over to see who he was staring at.

You stood at the end of the aisle with the man and the child that Johnny had helped out not too long ago. You were glowing in more ways than one. You looked happier and healthier than the last time the two men saw you.

Not to mention, you were pregnant and had a ring on your finger. Simon couldn’t help but grew jealous and angry. You should’ve been like that with him.

“Simon? Johnny?” You asked confused as you finally saw them. You and your family walked over to the two who stood at the other end of the aisle.

“Hey bonnie. You're looking good,” Johnny said surprised. Simon looked over at the small boy who did look exactly like him.

Simon didn’t know wether to be angry, sad, or disappointed in himself.

“Hi. Thanks. Are you two on leave?” You asked.

“At the moment yes,” Johnny said.

“That’s good. Simon, Johnny, this is my husband Mitch. Mitch, this is Simon and Johnny,” you introduce them. Simon looked at you heartbroken. He had selfishly hoped that one day you would come back to him or at least he would be able to see you and beg for your forgiveness.

“Nice to meet you both,” Mitch smiled as he offered a handshake. Simon and Johnny both shook his hand out of politeness.

“Is this lad yours?” Johnny asked you.

“Yes. This is my son, Levi. Levi, sweetie, these are two of mommy’s old friends. Can you say hi?” You asked him.

“Hi Mr. Johnny. Hi, Mr. Simon,” Levi said.

“How old are you?” Simon asked him. You frowned at his question. There was no doubt that Levi was his. Mitch rubbed your back a little to help calm you down.

“Five,” Levi tells him shyly.

“He’s five?” Simon asked you with sadden eyes. How long were you alone before Mitch came into your life?

“Yes. We need to get going. We’re on vacation here,” you tell him before taking Levi’s hand.

“Bye Johnny. Bye Simon,” you tell the two.

“Wait, Y/n,” Simon said as he quickly held your hand with your wedding ring on it. He let go the moment he felt the ring.

“Can we talk sometime?” Simon asked you.

“Simon-“

“Please.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea. I’m sorry. Come on, Levi,” you tell your son as you lead him to the check out.

Mitch stayed behind before looking over at Simon.

“If you have any questions about Levi, here’s my number. Just message me and I can talk to you,” Mitch told Simon as he handed him a card.

“He’s not yours?” Simon asked for confirmation.

“She’s mentioned you both before and told me what happened. You have the right to know about your son,” Mitch told him before walking away from the two.

“Simon?” Johnny softly said to get his attention.

“Let’s go.” Johnny’s Simon tells him before walking away.

——

It took some convincing from your husband but just before you three left to go back home in America, you met with Simon at a café close to the airport.

“Thank you for meeting with me,” Simon smiled a little as you sat across from him.

“Yeah,” you tell him awkwardly.

“How have you been?”

“Better. From what you saw, I got a husband and my kids,” you tell him, placing your hand on your stomach.

“Have you told Levi that he’s my son?”

“No. And I can wait to tell him when he’s older to understand,” you say. Simon nodded, knowing it would be too much for the poor kid to understand.

“I want to apologize to you.”

“Simon-“

“No. I hurt you. I told you that I would never hurt you and I did. I love you, Y/n. And I’m happy you moved on but I really did love you. I’m so sorry and I’m begging for your forgiveness,” Simon tells you.

“Simon, I forgive you. I can accept on who you are but it just hurt when I watched you fall in love with someone else after everything we’ve been through. I stayed here for you. I wanted to be there for you but it felt like I lost you,” you tell him.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay now. I’ve healed and I have a family now who I love,” you tell him.

“You deserve it. You deserve everything good in this world,” Simon tells you. You smiled softly before handing him an address and a phone number.

“That’s our address and my phone number. If you want to visit Levi, you can. He is your son. I’ll let you know when I tell him that your his dad,” you tell him. Simon stared down at the address and phone number before looking at you. You were still beautiful in his eyes and the guilt of letting you slip away began to creep up on him.

“We could’ve had a good family right?”

“Yeah.”

“You were a wonderful experience,” Simon tells you.

“And you were everything,” you tell him before standing up and heading out the door.

#simon ghost riley #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley imagine #simon riley #simon riley imagine #simon riley x reader #ghost #ghost imagine #ghost x reader #simon riley angst #ghost angst #ghoap #simon riley x john mactavish #ghost x soap #call of duty #call of duty imagine #alisonwritesimagines

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dresshistorynerd · 5 months ago

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Roughly 10 Cool Historical Queer Figures More People Should Know About

Part 1 - From Ancient Era to Early Modern Era

In spirit of Pride Month here's some snippets of queer history I think are interesting.

I've been working on a series of deep dives into interesting historical queer figures, but I haven't had the time to continue my list after the first entry about Julie d'Aubigny. I do want to continue with it, but I came to the realization that I will never have to time to do all the cool and interesting figures in depth, since there's too many, so I decided to do a list with brief descriptions about some of my favorite figures who are not that well known. Some of them are more well-known than others but I think they all deserve more acknowledgement.

I was able to trim down the number of figures to (roughly) 20, which was still too many for one post, so it's two posts now. They are in chronological order, so this part is set mostly before Victorian Era and the second part will be from Victorian Era onward.

This list is centered around western history (but not exclusively) because that's the history I'm most familiar with, though it's definitely not all white, since western history is not all white. I will be avoiding using modern labels, since they are rarely exactly applicable to history, rather I will present whatever we know about these figures' gender, sexuality and relationships. If there's information about what language they used about themselves, I will use that. Often we don't know their own thoughts, so I will need to do some educated guess work, but I will lean towards ambiguity whenever evidence is particularly unclear. If you are the type of person who gets angry with the mere suggestion there's a possibility that a historical gnc person might not have been cis, I encourage you to read my answers to related asks (here and here) first before sending me another identical ask. Try to at least bring some new arguments if you decide to waste my time with your trans erasure.

1. Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum (latter half of 2400 BCE)

Khnumhotep and Niankhkhnum were ancient Egyptian royal servants, and possibly the first recorded gay couple in history known by name. They shared the title of Overseer of the Manicurists in the Palace of King Nyuserre Ini. They both had a wife and children, but they (along with their families) were buried together in a tomb. The tomb decorations show them similarly as other afterlife couples.

2. Marinos the Monk (c. 5th-8th century)

Marinos the Monk was born as Marina somewhere in eastern parts of Byzantine Empire, likely in the Levant. He was from a wealthy Christian family, possibly Coptic. Assigned female at birth his widowed father planned to marry him off and go to a monastery himself, but he convinced his father to take him with him dressed as a boy named Marinos. His father agreed and they were accepted as monks. After his father died many years later, he continued his life as a male presenting monk. Later he was accused of fathering an illegitimate child with a daughter of an innkeeper, which was not possible, but he didn't revoke the accusations, instead he begged for the abbot's forgiveness for "his sins". Marinos was banished from the monastery and became a beggar. For 10 years he raised his alleged illegitimate child as a father, until he was allowed to return to the monastery and do penance. Only after his death the abbot and the monks discovered his genitals and his inability to father children and were distraught for punishing an innocent man for 10 long years. The real father was discovered and along with the innkeeper and his daughter they all came to honor Marinos' grave and ask his forgiveness. He was canonized as a saint for his sacrificial selflessness, modesty and humility and honored across the Mediterranean from Ethiopia to France.

3. Mubārak and Muẓaffar al-Saqlabi (c. 10th - 11th century)

Mubārak and Muẓaffar were co-rulers of Taifa of Valencia in Muslim Spain. Al-Saqlabi means literally "of the Slavs", which in Al-Andalus was a general term for enslaved northern Europeans, as the two had been enslaved as children. They were in the service of another al-Saqlabi, a chief of police, and they worked they way up as civil servants till a local military coup in 1010, which resulted in them becoming the emirs of Taifa of Valencia. English language sources often describe them as "brothers" and "eunuchs", which gives the "historical gal pals" trope a concerning twist, but contemporary Muslim sources wrote fawningly about their passionate love, trust based on equality and mutual devotion. There was a popular genre of homoerotic poetry in the Islamic world at the time and poems in that genre were written about celebrating Mubārak and Muẓaffar's relationship. In 1018 Mubārak was killed in a riding accident and Muẓaffar shortly after in an uprising.

4. Eleno de Céspedes (1545 – died after 1589)

CW: genital inspection

Eleno was born in Andalusia, Spain, to an enslaved black Muslim woman and to a free Castillian peasant. He was assigned female at birth, given name Elena, and branded as a mulatto born to a slave. She was freed as a child and married to a stonemason at 15-16 years old. When pregnant, her husband left her and died a while later. Later Eleno testified that his intersex condition became externally visible, while he gave birth, and he became a man. He left his son to be raised by a friend and traveled around Spain. After he stabbed a pimp and ended up in jail, he started presenting as a man and openly courting women. Eventually he taught himself to be a surgeon with the help of a surgeon friend.

When he married María del Caño, his maleness was questioned and he was subjected to genital inspection multiple times and it was agreed by doctors that he had definitely male genitals, possibly also female genitals. After a year of marriage the couple was accused of sodomy. Eleno was tried by the Spanish Inquisition and subjected to more genital inspections, during which no penis was found. He claimed that his penis had been amputated after an injury. He defended himself in the trial by arguing that his intersex condition was natural and he had become a man after his pregnancy, so his marriage was legal. He was sentenced only for bigamy, since he had not confirmed that his husband was dead and punished as a male bigamist with 200 lashes and 10 years of public service to care for the poor in a public hospital. His fame attracted a lot of people wanting to be healed by him, which which was very embarrasing for the hospital so he was sent away and eventually exonerated from his charges.

7. Chevaliére d'Éon (1728-1810)

Charles d'Éon de Beaumont was born to a poor French noble family. In their 20s they became a government official and at 28 they joined the secret spy network of the king, Secret du Roi. They became a diplomat first in Russia and later in Britain while they used their position to spy for the king. Rumors circulated in London that they were secretly a woman. While in London they had a falling out with the French ambassador, accused him of attempted murder and published secret diplomatic correspondence. They were instead accused of libel and went into hiding. After the death of Louis XV in 1774 and the abolishment of Secret du Roi, d'Éon negotiated with the French government of the end of their exile in exchange for the rest of the secret documents he possessed. D'Éon took the name Charlotte, claimed she was in fact a cis woman - she had pretended to be man since a child so she could get the inheritance - and demanded the government to recognize her as such. When the king agreed and included funds for women's wardrobe, she agreed and returned to France in 1777. After that she helped rebels in the American War of Indepence - was not allowed to ]go and fight too, ghostwrote her not super reliable memoir, offered to lead a division of female soldiers against the Hasburgs in 1792 - was for some reason denied, attended fencing tournaments till 65 years old and settled down for the rest of her years with a widow, Mrs. Cole. After her death a surgeon reported that she had male primary sex characteristics, but fairly feminine secondary sex characteristics, like round breasts, which might suggest she had hormonal difference/was intersex in some way.

8. Public Universal Friend (1752-1819)

Public Universal Friend, or The Friend or PUF, was born as Jemima Wilkinson to Quaker parents in Rhodes Island, USA. Jemima contracted a disease in 1776, gained intense fever and almost died. The Friend claimed that she did die and God sent the Friend to occupy her body. The Friend didn't identify as man or a woman, and when asked about the Friend's gender, the Friend said "I am that I am". The Friend didn't want any gendered pronouns or gendered language to be used about the Friend. The Friend's pronouns, according to the writings of the Friend's followers, were "the Friend", "PUF" and possibly he. First recorded neo-pronouns perhaps? The Friend also dressed in androgynous/masculine manner.

The Friend started a bit cultish religious society disavowed by mainstream Quakers, The Society of Universal Friends, which I can only describe as chaotic good. The Friend first predicted a Day of Judgement would come in 1780 and when 1780 came and went, the Friend decided it was New England's Dark Day in 1780 and they had survived survived the Judgement Day so all was good then. The Friend preached for gender equality, free will, universal salvation (Jesus saved everyone and no one will go to hell) and abolition of slavery. The Friend persuaded any followers to free their slaves, which is probably the most chaotic good thing a potential cult leader can do with their influence over their followers, and several freed black people followed the Friend too. The Friend advocated for celibacy and was unfavorable towards marriage, but didn't think celibacy or rejection of marriage were necessary for everyone else, so it feels more like a personal preference. Many young unmarried women followed the Friend and some of them formed Faithful Sisterhood and took leadership positions among the Society.

The Society of Universal Friends tried to form a town for themselves around mid-1780s, till in 1799 the Friend was accused of blasphemy. The Friend successfully escaped the law two times. First the Friend, a skilled rider (what's a gender neutral version of horse girl?), escaped with a horse, then after an officer and an assistant tried to arrest the Friend at home, women of the house drove the men away. Third time 30 men surrounded the Friend's home at night, but a doctor convinced them that the Friend was in too poor health to move but would agree to appear at court. The Friend was cleared for all charges and even allowed to preach at the court.

9. Mary Jones (early 1800s–1853)

Mary Jones' origin is unknown, but she was an adult in 1836 in New York, USA. She was a free Black person, who preferred to present as a woman. She was sex worker by trade and used a prosthetic vagina. As a side hustle she would steel her customer's wallets, and usually they wouldn't tell anyone because it was 1830s and inter-racial sex and prostitution were illegal and everyone was repressed. Smart. Get your coin, girl. However after one of her more shameless customers discovered his wallet with 99 dollars inside had been replaced with a different man's empty wallet and contacted the police, she was arrested. The police discovered she had male genitals and when they searched her room they found several more stolen wallets. She appeared in court in her female presentation and when asked about her dress, she said that prostitutes she had worked with encouraged her to dress in women's clothing and said she looked better in them. They were right and she had since presented as a woman in her evening profession and among other Black people. She was convicted for grand larceny and sentenced to 5 years in prison. Later she continued to present as a woman and practice sex work, for which she was arrested for two more times.

10. George Sand (1804-1876)

George Sand was pen name of Amantine Lucile Aurore Dupin de Francueil, a French Romantic writer. Amantine was high-born with a countess as a grandmother. George wrote about themself with alternating masculine and feminine language, using feminine language when talking about his childhood, but masculine language often other times. Their friends also used both masculine and feminine terms about them. Victor Hugo for example said about them: "George Sand cannot determine whether she is male or female. I entertain a high regard for all my colleagues, but it is not my place to decide whether she is my sister or my brother." George preferred men's clothing in public, which was illegal for those seen as women without a permit, but they didn't ask for permissions. They alternated between masculine and feminine presentations. They were outspoken feminist, critic of the institution of marriage, committed republican and supporter of worker's rights. They were married at age 18, had two children and left their husband in 1831, but legally separated from him in 1835. They had many affairs with men and some with women, at least with actress Marie Dorval. Their most notable relationship was with Frédéric Chopin, but they fell out before Chopin's death.

#i will be absolutely writing in depth posts about some of these figures #the friend is 100% one of those i fucking love the friend that story is a gift that keeps giving #history #queer history #pride month #queer #lgbtq history #queer tag #trans history #gay history #sapphic history #lesbian history #intersex history

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starsofteal · 8 months ago

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A Lesson and Love

Halsin x Tav // Halsin x Reader (GN) Summary: An accident in the forest leads to an injured child and a rattled Tav—cue daddy Halsin to the rescue. A/N: One of my favorite things to imagine are these little vignettes of life after the events of the game, when Halsin and Tav and all the children build a life for themselves in Thaniel’s realm. I love the idea of Tav coming into a more parental role after a life of high adventure, and how out of their depth they feel, especially when it appears to come to naturally to Halsin. And, of course, I’m a sucker for Daddy Halsin just as a concept. Warnings: broken arm (not graphic), fluff (is it hurt/comfort if it’s just physical pain and not emotional angst lol?)

The sun filters through the tree canopy of the forest just outside Moonrise Towers. The echoes of children’s laughter surrounds you as you relax against a sturdy tree trunk, catching your breath.

You had coaxed the children into their favorite game of chase—not that it took much convincing on your part—in a desperate attempt to rid the children of as much energy as possible, hoping it would make for an easier bed time tonight—a foolish hope considering how endless their energy seemed to be these days.

Not that you mind the extra energy. No, in fact, after everything you had been through, nothing brings you more joy than this life you’ve carved out for yourself: surrounded by children and their boisterous laughter, in a safe haven serving to provide hope and safety to all who need it, and then, of course, there’s Halsin.

Halsin, who you had forged such a deep and lasting connection with over your journey, who shows you the true definition of love and selflessness every day. The love you had found with Halsin will always be the greatest treasure to come out of your ordeal. You’d go through it all a thousand times over again just to end up here, in Thaniel’s Realm, with Halsin, and all the many charges you gained along the way.

The very charges who seemed determined to send you to an early grave.

“Nathaniel, be careful!” You admonish from your spot on the forest floor. The young boy, hardly more than six, makes his way up an oak tree, climbing onto a limb with a carefree dexterity that could only come from a child who had been spending far too much time out in the forest with Halsin.

“I am being careful,” Nathaniel quips back, slowly rising to his feet to grab onto an even higher branch and lifting himself up on it.

“That’s high enough.” Your voice has a final note of warning in it as you rise to your feet. “Come down from there, now.”

“Aww, that’s no fun.” Nathaniel pouts, but ultimately acquiesces, turning his body and kicking his feet over the edge of the branch to begin his decent.

The accident unfolds before you as if in slow motion, but you’re utterly helpless to intervene; feet frozen in place. Nathaniel releases his grip, but his foot just barely misses the lower branch, sending him barreling towards the ground. Your heart stops. A sickening crunch sounds out as he hits the ground, arms out trying to break his fall. There’s a heartbeat of silence before Nathaniel’s wail pierces the air.

You’re at his side in seconds, crouching low to the ground. The other children swarm in around you, their cries of concern and fear adding to the din.

“Back up, now please,” you order, not unkindly, assessing the damage in front of you while also trying to maintain an aura of calmness. A quick observation tells you that Nathaniel’s arm is definitely broken, the crunch you heard earlier serving as its own confirmation, but other than that, plus a few bumps and bruises, he seems okay. The relief is overwhelming.

“Nathaniel, sweet, come here,” your voice has a soft, calming tone to it that seems to have an instantaneous effect. The small boy doesn’t need to be asked twice, scrambling into your lap and holding his injured arm close to his chest. You hold him close, pressing a kiss to his temple, as his cries quiet to low whimpers.

“Cana and Ava,” you call out to the two eldest girls in the group. “I need you two to go find daddy Halsin, okay? Be quick, but be safe.” The pair nod eagerly before dashing off, and you send up a quick prayer to the Oak Father they hurry.

The rest of the children watch on as you continue to soothe Nathaniel, rocking back and forth. More than a few are shedding sympathy tears, the rest in various shades of distress.

“He’ll be okay,” you soothe the group. “But this is an important reason we have to follow rules, even when they’re not very fun. They’re there to help keep you safe.” A ripple of nods tells you they’ve more than learned the lesson and its one they won't be quick to forget.

“Go on,” you nod to the clearing, “go play. Daddy Halsin will be here soon.”

The children reluctantly sulk back to the playing area, though their spirits are too down to continue the game of tag with the same ferocity.

“You’re being very brave right now, Nathaniel,” you murmur, looking down at the child in your arms. He looks so small, and you feel your heart break in two. Nathaniel presses his head up against your chest and sniffs, wiping his nose on his tunic with his good shoulder.

“I’m sorry I climbed up high,” he whimpers, fresh tears falling from his thick eyelashes.

“Oh hush, hush, hush, none of that,” you refute. “The important thing is that you’re safe. A fall from not much higher could have been far worse. Daddy Halsin will be here soon, okay? Just keep being brave, can you do that for me?” You feel Nathaniel’s nod against your chest, and you continue your rocking.

Finally, you hear the thunder of footsteps running through the forest. You turn your head just as a large brown bear bursts into the clearing, two children atop its back. With practiced ease, they slide off, landing softly on the grass and joining the rest of the children who watch in awe as a burst of bright, magical light erupts. The bear disappears, Halsin standing in its place.

“My heart, what happened? Are you okay?” Halsin’s eyes are wide with panic as he takes in the sight of you on the ground, Nathaniel curled around his injured arm in your lap.

At the sight of daddy Halsin, Nathaniel’s tears start up again with vigor. “Daddy Halsin,” he wails. “My arm.” His sobs wrack his tiny body, and you wrap gentle arms around him, starting your soothing rocking again.

Halsin crouches low, getting on one knee. “Now, now, my little adventurer,” his voice is low and gentle. “Let me have a look.”

Nathaniel leans back against you, carefully exposing the broken and swollen limb, a deep bruise already blooming across the surface. Halsin hums in acknowledgement as he examines the limb.

“Hold very still for me,” he warns before closing his eyes and raising a hand sheathed in golden magic. His hand hovers above Nathaniel’s arm, causing Nathaniel to bury his head in your chest. “You’re doing such a good job,” you whisper to the boy, pressing a soft kiss to his forehead.

The glow of Halsin’s magic fades. “There, how does that feel?”

Nathaniel perks his head up and gives his arm a tentative wiggle. “Wow,” he marvels, his eyes growing wide. “It doesn’t hurt anymore!” Jumping up off your lap, he throws both arms around Halsin’s neck. “Thank you daddy Halsin!”

Halsin’s strong arms wrap around the child, and the sight nearly brings tears to your eyes. “Of course, my boy,” he replies. “Try to be more careful now, promise?”

“I will, I promise I will,” Nathaniel hastily replies, already wiggling out of Halsin’s arms and eagerly chasing off towards his adopted siblings.

Halsin chuckles as he takes a seat next to you in the grass.

“Well, he got over that quickly,” you joke, leaning into his side as he wraps a strong arm around your waist.

“These children are strong, resilient. They’ve been through so much at such a young age. It’ll take more than a broken bone to keep them down, I’d wager.”

You hum in agreement, absentmindedly picking at a few blades of grass. “Thank you for coming so quickly,” you murmur.

Halsin says nothing, just pulls you closer, holding you even tighter. “I’ll always be here, my heart.” His warm lips press against your temple.

“You’re so good with them, Halsin. You always know what do to, how to act, what to say.” You can’t stop the sigh that escapes your lips, rustling the small pile of grass blades you’d compiled.

Halsin’s brows furrow. “What is it, my heart?”

“It’s nothing,” you attempt to shrug off his concern, but he knows you all too well.

“Tell me what’s on your mind,” he urges. “Please.”

One look in those green eyes has you giving in. With another sigh, you pull your knees up to your chest, resting your chin atop them. You keep your eyes on the children playing ahead of you as you attempt to sparse apart your thoughts and feelings.

“When Nathaniel fell, there was a moment where I just…” you pause, gathering your breath. “I just froze. I didn’t know what to do. I was terrified. And then I heard him cry and my heart broke into a thousand pieces. There was nothing I could do. I failed him.” You bury your face against your knees.

Halsin nods his head in understanding, letting your words sit in the air for a moment before nudging you with his shoulder. “Would you like to hear my perspective?”

You pause for a beat, before giving a slight shrug of your shoulders.

"I saw you taking charge of the situation. Your fearless heart, your sharp mind, willing to do whatever it takes to take care of the people you care for. You’re relentless in the heat of the moment, whether it’s on the battlefield or here in our home. I saw Nathaniel in your arms; I saw you providing a sense of safety and comfort at a time when he was scared and in pain. You were everything he needed in that moment.”

Halsin’s words of confidence stir you and you raise your head up to look at him.

“I was so scared,” your words are barely above a whisper, a confession. “After everything we’ve been through, I thought I was beyond ever being scared again. But he looked so small crumpled up on the ground.”

“You’re not alone with those feelings, my love.”

At that, you offer Halsin a quizzical expression. “You? I feel like fear isn’t even in your vocabulary.”

“Me? A stranger to fear?” Halsin chuckles. “My heart, as soon as the girls told me there was an accident here in the forest…” He trails off, his voice taking on a somber pitch. “There aren’t words for the way my heart stopped.”

You place a comforting hand against his arm, the thick bands of muscle briefly tensing and relaxing at your subtle encouragement.

“I raced here as fast as I could. It wasn’t until I had you and the children in my sights that I felt I could finally breathe again.”

Halsin covers your hand with his own, a soft smile on his face. “I think perhaps the drawback to living such an idyllic and wondrous life such as this, is that we have so much more to lose now than we ever had before. And there is a fear in that. But I know that this magnificent journey of ours is only just beginning. There is so much more joy to come.” With that final sentiment, Halsin presses a kiss to your forehead. The warmth of his lips against your skin radiates through your entire body, and you tilt your head up to meet his lips with your own.

A chorus of “ewwws” and “yucks” erupts from the herd of children now gawking at the two of you, and Halsin doesn’t bother to hold back his howling laughter.

“To be continued at a later time, my heart,” he murmurs in your ear before pressing another kiss to your cheek and rising to his feet to join the children in play. His grabs two of the closest children in his arms, lifting them up high off the ground. Their squeals of delight pierce the air, and the rest of the children clamber over one another for their own turn.

You smile, leaning back against the oak tree, letting the warm rays of the setting sun graze your face, as you take in the beautiful view before you.

#halsin #halsin silverbough #halsin x reader #halsin x tav #halsin x oc #halsin bg3

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jjungkookislife · 2 years ago

Text

Bad Decisions

ღ pairing: tech support!Yoongi x f. reader

ღ genre: friends to lovers, fluff, smut [18+]

ღ summary: Jimin is desperate to get his apartment back to himself. He’ll move hell and earth, and even drop to his knees to beg you to take his brother, Yoongi, out of his hands. Who are you to say no to that pretty face and sinister grin?

ღ part of the room for rent collab

ღ wc: 14.3k

ღ warnings: jokes about a foot fetish, reader helped jimin wax, alcohol use/mention, mention of matching tattoos, matching swimsuits, jealousy, mention of medication that causes sun sensitivity (?), marking (hickeys, biting), hair pulling, mention of choking/breath play, fingering (f. receiving), oral sex (f. giving and receiving), spanking, mention of masturbation, unprotected sex, creampie

ღ date: January 27, 2023

“Please take him,” Jimin pleads as he gets down on his knees, hands clasped together. “He’s my brother.”

“Stepbrother,” Yoongi chimes in with a roll of his eyes.

Jimin scoffs, looking at Yoongi over his shoulder. “Just say you hate me and go.”

Yoongi clicks his tongue. “I don’t hate you. I just don’t want to live with you.”

“You see what I have to put up with? Please, take him! I’m begging you as your best friend and soulmate. Take him!”

Yoongi crosses his arms over his chest.

“You’re not making this very appealing, Chim.”

“I told him you wouldn’t go for it,” Yoongi sneers as he pushes off the wall he was leaning against.

“You know, when you invited me over for dinner, I didn’t think it would include you kissing my feet and begging me to take your brother,” you say as you walk to the couch, and Jimin shuffles forward on his knees.

“You want me to kiss your feet?” Jimin looks at your bare feet and grimaces. “That’s not my thing, but if it’ll take him off my hands.”

Jimin shrugs, and you gape at him, putting your feet on the couch and out of his reach. “Don’t you dare!”

“I’m trying to bargain!” Jimin exclaims while Yoongi rolls his eyes and sits on the black leather recliner.

“You’re shit at it.”

“Do you want a place to live or not?” Jimin asks with a glare that could send anyone to an early grave. Anyone except Min Yoongi.

“I’m comfortable here. I’ve got my own room,” Yoongi grins mischievously as he places his arms behind his head and leans back.

“It’s my room and my apartment,” Jimin growls at his brother before turning to you with a soft gaze and a pout.

“Take him, please. I’m literally on my knees for you. He’s ruining my Fuckdome,” Jimin sighs as he plops down beside you.

“Fuckdome?” You raise a brow in question.

“Apparently, Bachelor Pad is too lame,” Yoongi answers with a scoff. “As if he ever got laid in the first place.”

“Hey! I get laid!”

“When was the last time?” Yoongi chuckles.

“Before you moved in!” Jimin shouts, tugging at his hair. “Please, I’ll do anything. Just get him out of here.”

“Wow! I’m definitely not feeling unwanted by my little brother,” Yoongi frowns.

“So now I’m your brother?” Jimin raises a brow at Yoongi.

“All right! All right! Fuck, I’ll take him,” you declare, tired of the two squabbling. You’re sure they could go for hours on end.

“You will?” Yoongi’s brows rise in surprise, disappearing into his blonde hair.

“Shut up before she takes it back,” Jimin hisses at Yoongi, then dons an angelic smile when he turns to you. “No take-backs! He’s yours!”

“Okay, but there’s gonna be rules!” You inform them.

“He’ll comply!”

“I don’t even know what they are yet,” Yoongi tried to protest, but Jimin glared at him.

“I want my room back. I love you, but I love my space, too.”

Yoongi sighs.

“It’s nothing bad,” you assure Yoongi. “Typical stuff. Replace food if you finish it. Let me know before you bring people over, no loud music after 10 pm. Stuff like that,” you shrug.

“Are you gonna make a list?” Yoongi teases, but you nod, and he huffs.

“Fine, but only until I find a place of my own. I don’t want to burden you like I have Jimin,” Yoongi says.

“You’re not a burden. I just wanna get laid,” Jimin laughs as he lays his head on your lap.

“Yeah,” you agree quickly. “You’re not a burden. Jimin just doesn’t think with the head on his shoulders. A recent development. I’m afraid.”

“I’m not that bad.” Jimin rolls onto his back so he can look up at you while your fingers run through his hair.

“You had me wax your junk just last week?” Your brows furrowed, and Yoongi cackled at the revelation. Jimin turns red and hides his face in your stomach, muffling the scream he lets out.

“That was a secret!” You manage to make out.

“Geez, just how close are you?” Yoongi grips his stomach, it aches from laughing too much, and tears roll down his cheeks.

“Too close,” you frown, shuddering at the memory.

“That’s the last time I ask you to do anything for me!” Jimin huffs with a pout on his pretty lips.

“Thank you!” You sing, ruffling his hair before he sits up and crosses his arms as he sits as far away from you on the couch. He gives you a look, and you can’t help but think he looks like a petulant child.

“Sooooo,” Yoongi grins. “When can I move in?”

Months have passed since that night, and Yoongi’s grown on you. At first, it was awkward having him around. You could no longer walk around naked or half-dressed, and your drunken nights out led to Yoongi half-carrying you to bed while you mumbled about his resemblance to cats. Which then led to sober you adopting a cat, a cute little black cat named Spider.

Sure, Yoongi was hesitant at first. After all, what did he know about being a pet parent? But soon, Spider grew on him, and much to your dismay, he was your cat’s favorite human.

Wherever Yoongi went, Spider was attached to him. The moment he’d get home from work and plop down on the couch, Spider was climbing on his lap and rubbing her cute, little face on his chest.

“She’s my cat,” you’d murmur with a frown.

“She loves me more,” Yoongi would say with a grin as he cuddled the little fur ball. Her loud purrs are just a soundtrack to your sadness.

At one point, Yoongi got matching shirts for the three of you. Something Jimin cackled at when you’d shown him the day after. Yoongi was adamant about you three wearing them out on your walks. Sometimes, he’d have Spider on a leash or put her in a stroller. You know, just Pet Parent things.

Overall, the three of you were happy living together. At least once, the initial awkwardness had passed, and you suppose you have Spider to thank for that. You realize you quite like having Yoongi around, not realizing how lonely it actually was to live alone. After all, you’d grown up with three siblings and lived with them until you had to move away for college, but even then, you had a roommate, so you weren’t genuinely alone until after graduation just a few years ago. Sure, you had friends over here and there and a few sleepovers with Jimin, but having someone around all the time was different and not as bad as you assumed it would be.

You loved coming home from a long day at work to see Yoongi’s shoes sitting by the door. His body lay on the couch with your fur baby on his chest as he slept soundly. You loved the little notes he’d leave for you on the fridge, reminding you that dinner was saved for you in your favorite Tupperware container, and sometimes Spider would surprise you wearing a new outfit, sometimes a dress, sometimes a shirt, or sometimes a new collar and bow.

Today, your roommate and cat are nowhere to be found when you walk through the door. You pause by the entrance as you take your coat off, hanging it on one of the hooks beside it. Yoongi’s shoes sit in their usual spot, and you kick yours off to join his, leaving a space in between.

“Yoongi? Spider?” You sing as you try to find either of them. Spider will suffice. The last thing you want is for your cat to be caught up in something they’re not supposed to be in.

“In the bathroom!” Yoongi calls, albeit muffled.

You say nothing else as you go to the bathroom, brows furrowed in confusion, but the door swings open, and Yoongi grins at you. Beside him, a safe distance away, is Spider licking her paw. She stops when the door creaks open further, her intense gaze locked on yours almost as if to say, “I tried to stop him.”

“Yoongi!” you gasp. “What are you doing?”

“Dyeing my hair,” he says in a tone that ruffles your feathers. He grins when he turns back to his reflection, his fingers massaging the dye into his hair.

“It's orange!”

“It is,” Yoongi grins his signature smile, and you can't help but melt. “I thought it was time for a change.”

“Do you need help?” You offer, but Yoongi shrugs, and he steps back. You turn to face the mirror, passing in front of him to scoop Spider into your arms. Yoongi holds his breath as you pass by him again, feeling your ass lightly brush his crotch. He tries not to think anything of it, but fuck. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about having you on his lap, feeling your body, the warmth of your skin against his.

“I'm almost done. Thanks, princess,” he clears his throat as he finishes up, and you take Spider out of the bathroom.

“You better not stain the tub!” You shout as you take Spider to the kitchen. You set her on the floor, grabbing her container of treats. She immediately begins meowing until you’re popping two on the floor for her.

Spider practically inhaled them as you put the container away, offering a few head pats before opening the fridge.

You smile, grateful when you spot your Tupperware in the fridge with your dinner. Work had been long and exhausting. You were eager to have dinner, shower, and lay on the couch with Spider and Yoongi.

By the time Yoongi is out of the shower and has gotten it cleaned up, he spots you asleep on the couch. He warms at the sight, going to grab the small throw blanket to place over you. You snore softly and he giggles, silently taking your picture to send to you later.

Spider hops on his lap when he sits on the opposite side of the couch and he pets her. “Shh, don’t wake her up.”

Spider doesn’t listen. Instead, she hops off Yoongi and starts walking on you until you’re groaning and sitting up after feeling her paws digging into your thigh. Your eyes are still closed, but you’re scooping up Spider gently.

“Naughty girl,” you sigh as you kiss her little head and set her on the couch. Spider circles a few times and finally gets comfortable enough to fall asleep.

“She’s a brat,” Yoongi cackles once you’re fully awake.

“She gets it from you,” you tease.

Yoongi scoffs. “She gets it from her mother.”

“She gets it from her father.” You roll your eyes at him before raising your phone to check the time. Yoongi sends you the picture he took of you sleeping, edited to show a huge mustache on your face.

“Yoongi!!”

“What?” He asks, his cat eyes twinkling mischievously.

“You can’t take pictures of me sleeping!”

“Says who?”

“Me?!”

“You look cute!” Yoongi shrugs. You flounder, feeling heat rise to your face.

“That’s not the point! And you gave me a mustache!” You lunge at him, earning a cry from Spider as she jumps out of the way. You throw an apology at her before landing on Yoongi. He grunts, not expecting your attack, and he holds his phone over his head.

“Gimme!”

“Nope!” He grins, looking down at you as you try (and fail) to take the phone from him. You glare, freezing when you realize his hair is orange. Sure, it was one thing to see it while it was still a wet mess on his head, but now that it was dry and styled, it left you breathless.

“Earth to Rageful?” Yoongi waves his hand in front of your face. You blink and shake your head.

“Delete it!”

“I can’t. It’s already my Lock Screen,” Yoongi smirks as you try again to take his phone before climbing onto his lap and straddling him. He’s shocked to the core but is a master at schooling his features. You don’t notice the blankness on his face as he tries to focus on anything but your wiggling hips on his lap. He curses himself, praying he doesn’t get riled up from this. It had been a while for him and something as simple as them could have him popping a boner. Damn.

“Got it!” You cheer as you snatch the phone from his hand. Yoongi laughs, his hand on your back to hold you as you go through his phone and delete the picture. “Here, I’ll make Spider your Lock Screen. It’ll be cuter that way.”

“Oh? You don’t think you’re cuter than Spider?” Yoongi raises a brow.

“Are you kidding? She’s a precious angel. Look at her!” You both turn to see your cat, who’s on the floor rolling on her back, playing with a toy. You both melt at the sight, cooing at her before you turn back to Yoongi. “Precious.”

“Hmm, true, but you’re cute too,” he says honestly and you laugh, smacking his chest.

“Sure, Min. I’ll believe it,” you shake your head before climbing off his lap, tossing his phone at him.

“I mean it,” he says seriously and you swallow thickly.

“I guess you’re kinda cute, too.”

Yoongi smiles cockily. “Only kinda?”

You feel like your face is on fire. Your eyes widen and you bite your lip. Your tongue feels like lead and you hope you can control yourself and not call him the Adonis you think he is.

“Yeah, only kinda. Don’t need you getting a big head. Although…” you giggle.

Yoongi rolls his eyes. “You’re so annoying! Come here!”

You yelp and laugh as he gets off the couch, chasing you around the apartment as your laughter fills your home.

Spider keeps out of the way but joins in a moment later until you’re all running around, laughing, and having a good time.

“You have to come to Jungkook’s pool party with me! I can’t go alone! I’ll look like a loser!” Jimin pouts.

“Jimin, nobody will think you’re a loser for going alone. Besides, aren’t you friends with his friends?” You say as you sit on the couch with your feet in Yoongi’s lap. He’s got one hand caressing your ankle, fingertips brushing your tiny tattoo of an S for Spider that you had urged him to get with you shortly after adopting her.

Yoongi scoffs. “Since when has anyone called you a loser, little bro? If I remember correctly, everyone loved you in school.”

“That’s different! Of course, everyone loved me back then. I was phenomenal!” Jimin spits back and you sigh.

“Boys! Please, not again!” You groan as your head falls back onto the couch. Yoongi murmurs an apology as he continues to scroll on his phone but doesn’t cease caressing your ankle.

“So, will the both of you come?”

“Uh, will it be okay with Jungkook if you invite us?” You ask.

“Of course! I already asked. He said yes!” Jimin says and you sigh in defeat.

“Fine, we’ll be there.”

“You didn’t even ask me?” Yoongi looks at you and you pout. He sighs.

“Yeah,” he mutters. “We’ll be there.”

“Thanks! You’ll have a great time! I have to go!” Jimin hangs up and Yoongi groans.

“Between you and him, I can never get a word in.” Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“It’s the same when you fight. Now, do you wanna wear matching swimsuits or what?”

“Or what,” he snarks.

“I can’t believe you made us wear matching swimsuits,” Yoongi mutters under his breath as you walk into Jungkook’s backyard. You ignore him, knowing he’d adored the matching black-and-white checkered board shorts you both wore. You even had the matching top that was more like a sports bra than a bikini top, while Yoongi had decided to wear a long-sleeved black shirt.

Decidedly you step forward as you search the gathering of friends. Immediately, you spot Jimin at the same time he sees you. He waves with a huge grin on his face.

It’s nearing 3 pm, and the sun is still sweltering. Yoongi groans, his pretty eyes hidden behind a pair of huge black sunglasses as he scopes out an empty sun lounger under the canopy. That’s where he’ll remain until it’s time to go.

“You made it!” Jimin hugs you, mindful of his drink as he wraps an arm around you.

“You act like you haven’t seen each other in months,” Yoongi grumbles and you elbow him.

“It feels like it! We haven’t had a sleepover in a while.”

“Hmm, since about the time Yoongi moved in,” Jimin recalls.

“Don’t let me keep you from your activities,” Yoongi snarls, feeling a tidbit unwanted but making his expression neutral.

“Oh, we don’t!” Jimin wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. “But you won’t join us in our makeovers or skincare, and that’s no fun.”

“I have sensitive skin,” Yoongi protests.

“Then I’ll plan something soon,” Jimin brightens as he hugs Yoongi tightly. Huffing, Yoongi reluctantly agrees, hugging Jimin back.

“Now, let’s get you acquainted with some of Jungkook’s friends. The rest are friends of friends or whatever. But the important ones are over here. Yoongi, I got you a sun lounger and an umbrella. I also got Kook to get you one of those little fans that spray water.” Jimin informs his brother as he leads the two of you past a few guests.

“See, this won’t be so bad,” you say as you tuck your arm into Yoongi’s.

“Yeah, yeah,” he clicks his tongue, but doesn’t make a move to pull away.

For the most part, Yoongi is having a good time just watching the guests. He has a few conversations here and there, but eventually; they fizzle out. He doesn’t care, though. He has you for most of the afternoon, and that’s all that really matters.

There’s plenty of food and drinks to go around. Conversations and laughter fill the air and Jimin’s laughter rings above all. He’s been attached to Jungkook all afternoon, blushing and giggling at his every word.

You’ve gone to the pool and mingled with Namjoon and Hoseok, two of Jimin’s friends that you’ve known for years. They’re pretty cool and they keep you busy while Yoongi hangs back in his chair. He’s not made a move to step out of the shade, completely content with his little spraying fan.

“How’s living with Yoongi?” Namjoon’s the first to ask, but you know Hoseok is dying to know. Hell, even Taehyung, a friend of Yoongi’s you’ve recently gotten to hang out with, comes up to your group at the mention of his friend’s name.

“It’s chill,” you try to remain coy, but Hoseok scoffs.

“That’s it?”

“What else is there to know? He pays rent and half the bills. We share custody of Spider,” you shrug.

Namjoon and Hoseok share a look before Taehyung nods. He looks over at Yoongi and chuckles.

“Looks like you’re needed elsewhere,” he says as he splashes you in the face and swims away. Namjoon and Hoseok cackle as they swim after him and you’re left alone.

You turn to look at Yoongi but he’s engrossed in a conversation, his phone in a woman’s lap. You frown, ignoring the jealousy that bubbles up in your belly. He’s just your roommate. Just your friend. No need to get jealous, you remind yourself.

It doesn’t make the sickly feeling in your stomach go away. Try as you might, you knew your little crush on your roommate ran deeper than that, but you refused to acknowledge your feelings in public. Instead, you sigh as you dunk underwater; the coolness shocking you out of your bad mood.

Later, you get out of the pool, tired of the splashing and the slight burn in your eyes. Your fingers and toes are wrinkled and you are in need of a break.

You head straight for Yoongi as you towel off, exchanging pleasantries as you go. Yoongi looks up at you when you arrive, and you grin, glad he’s alone again.

“Sup?” He asks casually.

You smile as you bend down to grab your sunblock from your bag. You pat Yoongi’s thigh and he moves his leg as he looks at you, puzzled.

You sit between his legs, your ass nearly pressed to his crotch as you bend forward and move your hair to the side. You drop your sunblock on his lap and he grabs it.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” He asks with a raised brow but your back is to him, so you don’t see him frown.

“Sunblock needs to be reapplied. It’s not one and done, Yoong,” you state as you fan yourself with your hand. Despite the sun setting, it was still quite hot and humid out.

“I don’t see why you couldn’t ask Jimin to do this?” Yoongi groans as he opens the bottle, squeezing it to get a quarter-sized dollop on his palm. He didn’t care for the oily feeling of it.

You roll your eyes.

“I did.” You huff. “He almost pushed me into the pool because Jungkook was flirting with him.”

Yoongi remains silent as he looks across the backyard at his brother flirting with Jungkook. His hands wrapped around Jungkook’s tattooed arm. The smile on Jimin’s lips rivals the sun. Yoongi clicks his tongue.

“You see, if you had stayed out of the sun as I did, you wouldn’t need it.”

“But that’s no fun!” you exclaim as Yoongi rubs the lotion onto your back. “Besides, you need to be wearing sunblock regardless if you’re under the umbrella or not.”

“Trust me, I know. Remember, I’m on medication and it makes me extra sensitive to the sun. So, unfortunately, I’m stuck here until it sets.”

“Like a vampire,” you giggle.

“Exactly,” he grins as his hands move down your body to your hips. He hums to himself as he finishes rubbing the sunblock on your skin. You nearly fall asleep with the gentleness of his touch.

Hours later, as the party wraps up, Jimin finally makes his way over to his brother, sitting on the chair beside him.

“Hey,” he smiles brightly.

Yoongi grunts in acknowledgment.

“Meet anyone new?” Jimin asks as he lies back, his arms crossed behind his head. He already knows the answer. Despite being insanely occupied with Jungkook, he had kept an eye on Yoongi to make sure the elder was enjoying the party. However, he had seen a few guests make their way to Yoongi, though he has no idea what any of those conversations entailed. He never spotted the same person twice.

“Not really? Was I supposed to?” Yoongi is genuinely confused, raising a brow at his brother. Did he miss something? Someone? Did Jimin send over the few people that had chatted him up for a bit?

“Nobody hit on you?” Jimin asks, sitting up in disbelief. It was rare that an outing left Yoongi without any numbers or compliments, at the very least.

“Were they supposed to?” Yoongi is growing annoyed at his brother and the circling of this discussion. It’s not like Yoongi was looking for a partner, not when he had Spider and you already.

“I don’t know why none of the people here hit on you,” Jimin says with furrowed brows.

Yoongi shrugs. “I don’t know either.”

“Well, what do you talk about when they come up to you?”

“I don’t know.” Yoongi licks his lips, clicking his tongue after. “I just showed them pictures of Spider.”

“Lemme see,” Jimin urges, scooting closer to Yoongi.

Yoongi hands his phone over and Jimin rolls his eyes when he sees the lock screen. It’s a picture Jimin took of you and Yoongi with your arms wrapped around him while Spider sits in his lap. The both of you are looking at each other with hearts in your eyes. Nothing screamed “They’re IN LOVE!” like this photo.

Jimin shakes his head, handing the phone back to his brother. “Yeah, I have no clue what it is‌.”

Yoongi decides to ignore the sarcasm in his brother’s voice. “What? Am I missing something?”

“You’re clueless and so is she!” Jimin huffs. “You’re obviously into her!”

“Shhh!” Yoongi hisses, covering Jimin’s mouth and regretting it the moment his younger brother licks his palm.

“EW! Jimin, what the fuck?!” Yoongi screeches as he wipes his palm on his board shorts. “You’re disgusting!”

Jimin shrugs. “Sorry, didn’t mean to ruin your matching board shorts! Oh, because you’re matching with my best friend, who you are in love with!!”

“Jimin!” Yoongi growls, his eyes hard and Jimin gulps.

Fuck.

“Am I wrong tho?” Jimin whispers as he looks around the immediate area, but most of the guests have gone home and you left a while ago to shower and change inside Kook’s house. There was no way anyone could hear this conversation.

“Jimin,” Yoongi cards his hand through his hair. Jimin waits patiently for his brother to continue, though he hopes he hurries, aching to find Kook and spend the rest of the night with him.

“Fine, okay! Fuck,” Yoongi sighs. “I like her, okay? I’ve liked her since I moved in and she put on a playlist while cooking and had a bunch of my favorite artists on there. Or maybe since before I moved in and she’d come over to your place and squish me until I handed over the remote. I honestly don’t know, man. But now I live with her and I can’t lose her or Spider if shit hits the rocks.”

“Damn, bro. I thought you’d say she was hot or something. I didn’t know this was something sweet,” Jimin pouts. “My best friend and my brother!”

“Shut up! Nothing’s coming out of this because I’m not saying anything to her.” Yoongi states firmly. “And neither are you—for that matter.”

“But-”

“No, Jimin. You take this to the grave. Don’t be sticking your spoon where it doesn’t belong,” Yoongi is adamant about this, and Jimin nods.

Jimin opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by you shouting Yoongi’s name.

“Yoon! Let’s go home! I miss Spider!”

“Coming!” Yoongi calls back, waving at you as you shut the sliding glass door and join Jungkook in the kitchen once again.

Yoongi looks at his brother. “Not a word. Let me figure this out on my own.”

“She’s my best friend,” Jimin protests.

“And I live with her. Jimin, I’m not gonna fuck this up. Just let me get over her, okay?”

“And if she likes you back?” Jimin asks.

“Be realistic,” Yoongi scoffs as he gathers his belongings and heads into the house. Jimin watches his brother go, sighing as he goes over their conversation. He didn’t mean to cause such turmoil for Yoongi. He was just trying to help.

A few weeks later, Jimin shows up at your door with an overnight bag and a cooler filled with all his skin care products.

“I thought the point of me moving out of your place was to avoid sleeping under the same roof,” Yoongi groans when he steps aside to let his brother into his apartment.

“Rude!” Jimin huffs as he kicks his shoes off and slips on his light blue slippers. “Besides, I was invited.”

“Yoongi! Be nice to Jimin!” You call from the kitchen, opening the oven door to pull out the two trays of brownies you had prepared.

“I’m always nice!” Yoongi shouts in response as Jimin ignores him and sets his stuff down.

“It’s time for our sleepover, so either get with the program or go to your room,” Jimin shrugs as he makes himself at home, cooing at Spider when she jumps on his lap.

“Traitor!” Yoongi huffs as he stomps off to his bedroom but reappears minutes later in his pajamas.

“That’s what I thought,” Jimin smirks.

“It was time for bed,” Yoongi lies, and Jimin nods.

“Uh-huh, sure. Anyway, I brought snacks.” Jimin digs in his bag and takes out a pile of chips, candy, drinks, and menus from his favorite spots in town.

“Is this what you do at all your sleepovers?” Yoongi asks as he sits on the couch with a bag of chips. You’re nearly on Jimin’s lap, gently rubbing a hydrating cream onto his cheekbones.

“Yes? We also talk about boys,” Jimin giggles.

“Oh? How are things with Jungkook?” you ask as you gently pat another cream between his brows. Jimin perks up immediately, sitting up. “Amazing! Oh, so amazing!”

You listen intently to your best friend as he informs you about his budding relationship with his crush. It makes it hard to continue your beauty treatment on him, so you move on to your reluctant roommate.

“Don’t get any in my hair, princess,” he huffs as you move over to him. He’s sitting on the floor with his legs out in front of him as Jimin connects his phone to the TV and presents a slideshow of his photos of Jungkook and him out on dates.

You nod along as you gently pat your fingers on Yoongi’s skin. He’s got glorious, flawless skin already. You don’t want to do too much to it. The closer you move to him, the more rigid he grows. His palms grow sweaty and the loud thumping of his heart drowns out the rapid thumping of yours.

Being so close to Yoongi makes you realize how pretty he really is. His orange hair has faded immensely, and he’s made comments about dyeing it black once again. He’s also let it grow out more and now it reaches the collar of his shirt. It’s so fluffy and soft that you can’t help but want to run your fingers through it.

“And here we are at an 80s night at the club,” Jimin prattles on as he stares at the TV, oblivious to you and Yoongi being in your own world.

Yoongi swallows thickly as he looks you in the eye, holding your gaze as you move even closer, nearly on his lap. “Pretty.”

You’re left speechless, wondering if you’d heard him correctly. You’re about to ask when Spider jumps in between you.

You scream, startled, and jump back. Yoongi curses as he moves Spider to the side and asks if you’re okay. Jimin looks over his shoulder, asking if you’re paying attention before he continues on to the next photo.

“Sorry,” you say as you get on your feet. “Just let that sit for a few minutes and rinse it off,” You mutter as you take a seat on the couch on the opposite end of him. Yoongi nods, petting Spider as his thoughts swirl around his head.

Jimin was the first to fall asleep that night. In your bed. Splayed out. Leaving no room for you.

You’d tried your best to morph around him, but he slept like a starfish. You sigh, grabbing your blanket and pillow before getting out of bed.

You quietly tiptoe to Yoongi’s room, knocking.

“Yeah?” comes his reply.

“Can I come in?” you ask. You know better than to step into his room without knocking. The first time had been by accident, chasing Spider through the apartment to get your sock back, and Yoongi stood there wrapped in nothing but a towel around his waist and a glower that made your panties stick to you. Fuck.

“Why?”

“Yoongi!” you whine, huffing when you hear his laugh through the door. Moments later, the door opens and your sleepy roommate stands at the door, his hand on the doorknob. You look past him and see Spider curled up on his bed, one eye open to check who is disturbing her beauty sleep.

“Can I sleep here?” you pout.

“Don’t you have a bed?” Yoongi raises a brow at your odd request.

“Your brother’s on it.”

“It’s a sleepover. Remember, princess? You invited him over and now he’s asleep. That's usually how this goes,” Yoongi smirks. You poke his side, not caring for his condescending tone, but you know it’s how he gets when he’s tired; always teasing and never malicious.

“Yoongi,” you huff, yawning right after.

Yoongi chuckles. “Come in. You better go right to sleep.”

“I will. I will,” you promised as you push past your roommate and get on his bed. It’s firm but comfortable and Spider doesn’t move an inch from her spot as you get comfortable beside her. Yoongi shuts the door almost all the way, leaving just enough room for Spider to open it if she needs to leave later on.

“And you better not keep me up with your snoring,” Yoongi smiles when you scoff, offended.

“I don’t snore!”

“Sure, sure.” Yoongi grins as he gets into his side of the bed, pulling his blanket over his frame as Spider stands and circles around for a moment before dropping exactly where she had been previously. Cats.

“Goodnight, Yoongi.”

“Goodnight, princess.”

Hot. So hot.

Groaning, you stir in your sleep. You don’t want to fully wake, but you’re too hot to think of anything else. There’s weight over your waist and you move your hand to move it, grumbling when it doesn’t budge.

“Mm, quit,” comes a response, and your eyes widen.

That was not Jimin!

Slowly, you wiggle your way out of the hold. You nearly scream when you see Yoongi sleeping beside you, a frown on his lips now that you’ve moved away.

“What the fuck?” you mutter to yourself. You soon remember coming to his room last night when Jimin had taken over your bed.

“I need to go,” you whisper as you wiggle your way out of Yoongi’s bed. You force yourself not to think about how perfect he felt pressed against you, his chest on your back and his arm draped protectively over your waist. Nope. Not gonna think about it!

“Good morning!” Jimin calls when he sees you in the hall. His smile is suggestive and you’re quick to drag him to the kitchen, out of earshot from Yoongi’s bedroom if he were to wake up.

“You look like you slept well,” Jimin wiggles his brows and you scowl.

“You took up my bed,” you hissed.

“And this is news to you? I always take up the bed. You should be thanking me! How else would you have ended up in bed with Yoongi? You’re welcome!” Jimin exclaims giddily and you shush him.

“You need to come with a sound warning. How are you so chipper so early in the morning?” you ask as you go get your favorite mug so you can start making coffee for everyone.

“Scheming gives me a pep in my step,” Jimin shrugs. “Anyway, tell me what happened! Did you make a move? Did he make a move? Are you dating? Did you fuck?”

“Jimin!”

“What? I give you details all the time!”

“Yeah, unprompted,” you stick your tongue out, but you do love living vicariously through Jimin and he knows that. He’d never cross any boundary you set.

“Spill!” Jimin pouts, but thanks you when you hand him his coffee with his favorite creamer. He takes a sip, moaning and thanking you again for getting it just right.

“Nothing happened, Chim. I asked if I could sleep in his bed and he said yes. Spider slept between us most of the night. I kept rolling over and getting fur in my face.”

“Damn, what a cockblock,” Jimin looks at Spider, who stretches and yawns from her perch in the cat tree by the front door.

“I wasn’t gonna fuck him!” you screech before covering your mouth and hoping Yoongi wasn’t awake just yet.

“But you want to?” Jimin prods.

“I do, Jimin. He’s hot, sure. But he’s also so sweet and funny. He leaves little notes when he packs my lunch and I always look forward to coming home because I know he’s here with our baby,” you gush.

“And you don’t like him?” Jimin covers his mouth as he laughs.

“I do like him. I’m fucked, aren’t I?” you grumble as you sip your coffee.

“Not as fucked as you think,” Jimin mutters.

Work was a nightmare, and you were thankful to be home.

“I’m home!” you call out as you shut the door and kick your shoes off.

“In the bathroom!” Yoongi calls out.

You furrow your brows before walking to the bathroom. The door is wide open and Yoongi’s standing in front of the mirror with his hands in his hair covered in black hair dye.

“Again?” you ask as you lean against the doorway.

“I wanted to match Spider,” he shrugs and you note how long and shaggy his hair has gotten. You wonder if he’d let you run your fingers through it once he’s done.

“Well, aren’t you cute?” you hum before leaving him on his own. Yoongi blushes when you walk away, his heart skipping a beat.

“Spider!” you grin when you spot your cat napping on the couch. You scoop her up and she mewls, blinking her sleepy eyes at you as you smooch her. “Your daddy’s making a mess in the bathroom again.”

“I am not!” Yoongi calls out.

You cackled, carrying your precious kitty to the kitchen for a treat.

“He’s only dyeing his hair so you’ll like him better,” you tease and hear Yoongi huff a laugh.

“You’ve distracted me, princess!”

“Good!” you shout in response as you open the fridge to grab the leftovers. You open the lid and place the Tupperware into the microwave.

While you wait for your food to heat, Yoongi joins you in the kitchen, hair dye sitting in his hair as he waits for it to process.

“How was work?” Yoongi asks as the microwave beeps and you hit the button to open the door. Carefully, you grab the container and set it on the counter before shutting the door.

“It was long. You know I hate making small talk with people, especially after the weekend,” you grumble.

Yoongi smirks. “But it’s Friday, princess.”

You roll your eyes playfully. “But that means I’ll have to hear all about Jessica’s perfect weekend on Monday morning. I don’t think she even notices that I tune her out. It’s usually the same thing with her every week.”

“Well,” Yoongi shrugs. “We can do something this weekend, and you’ll have something to share on Monday.”

“Like what?” you question as you grab a fork from the cutlery drawer and stab your food with it. You moan lewdly as you chew it.

“That good, huh?” Yoongi chuckles.

You flip him off. “What did you have in mind? Should I get a sitter?”

“I don’t think we’ll need a sitter, princess. I was thinking we could get dinner at that one place you love and then hit up the bar near it. Tomorrow there’s a festival we can go to as well,” Yoongi suggests, biting his lip nervously. He was asking you out, and he didn’t know if he was being direct enough or if you thought he just wanted to hang out.

“Twice in one week?” you raise a brow.

Yoongi shrugs, trying to seem nonchalant, but you can see the tips of his ears turning pink. You decide to further his bashfulness a bit more by asking, “like a date?”

“I-uh,” Yoongi gulps, caught red-handed.

“Ooh, Yoongi wants to date me!” You sing as you pop another bite of food into your mouth and wiggle in your happy dance.

Spider hops on the counter and you sigh, forgetting all about Yoongi to get your little kitty back on the floor.

“So dinner?” Yoongi asks.

“Dinner sounds good!” You agree.

Dinner had been fantastic!

You had left the apartment together with Yoongi and when he stepped out of his bedroom; he was breathtaking! His long hair was fluffy and so soft-looking, you almost begged him to let you run your fingers through it. He smiled brightly, your heart flipping in your chest as you tried to calm your pulsating pussy. He was donned in his leather jacket and some of the tightest slacks you had ever seen him wear. Instead of his usual Vans shoes, he had donned his Chelsea boots, and you wanted him to step on you. The mere sight of him was orgasm-worthy, and he knew it too.

All throughout dinner, you had been complimented by him. He held the door for you when you arrived at the restaurant and he pulled the chair for you to sit. You had been half-joking about this evening being a date, but everything about your roommate’s demeanor screamed “THIS IS A DATE!” and now you were too afraid to ask for confirmation.

Can you imagine the awkwardness you’d feel in the car if he said no? You’d have nowhere to run and have to stew in it all the way home. Nope, you were just gonna write this off as a bonding experience between you two since Jimin is out with Jungkook once again. But you really hope this is a date!

By candlelight, Yoongi notes the delicate details of your makeup. He can’t help but admire the shine of your lips as you speak, smiling softly when you catch him staring. He smiles back, biting his lip.

“You look beautiful,” he states honestly, sure you’ve grown tired of hearing it tonight, but it’s genuine every time he says so.

Like the past few times, you thank him. A giggle escapes you as you raise your wine glass, bringing it to your lips as you take a sip, ignoring the heat that spreads over your chest.

When the check came, Yoongi immediately swiped the little black book off the table.

“Yoongi,” you whine, a pout on your pretty lips.

“Not a chance, princess. I invited you out, so I’m paying,” Yoongi stuck his card into it, signed the receipt, and handed it back to the waiter. You thank him, finishing your glass of wine before the waiter brings his card back.

Yoongi rises from his seat, going to yours to pull the chair out and help you rise. You grab your purse, stepping in front of Yoongi with your heeled shoes.

Quickly, you press a featherlight kiss to his cheek as thanks, stunning him in place. A smug smile is on your lips when he finally rejoins your side, stunning you when his hand takes yours, fingers laced.

“Come on, princess. We’ve got a bar to get to,” he says simply as he leads you to the car.

After a short drive later, Yoongi opens your door for you once you arrive. He takes your hand easily, leading you inside the bar once your IDs are checked at the door.

What Yoongi didn’t know was that after a certain hour, the bar turned into a club. He keeps you close as he leads you to the bartender, scoring a seat for you.

Almost immediately, a bartender takes your order, all flirty smiles and giggles aimed at your date for the night. You can’t blame them. Yoongi looks good enough to eat. In fact, you had spent most of the night checking him out, well aware of what lies beneath his button-up shirt. The thought warms your skin as you bite your lip and look away.

“Thank you,” Yoongi’s voice is low when you snap out of your thoughts, a cold drink set in front of you.

Slightly surprised, you see it’s your go-to drink, one of your favorites when you’re unsure of what to order. Smiling into the glass, you have a sip as Yoongi does the same to his glass of whiskey. He hadn’t had more than two sips of wine at dinner, and since he’d be driving, he would only have a few sips here as well.

On the other hand, you would finish this drink and one more before switching to water. You were already feeling more relaxed and less nervous as the hours passed. You still weren’t sure if this was a date, but you really hoped so, as Yoongi spilled stories of Jimin you had never heard before.

Your laugh is contagious as you lean into him, your hand on his shoulder as you catch yourself to keep from falling. Yoongi smiles at you, butterflies fluttering in his tummy as he feels warmth spread across his cheeks. He wonders why you haven’t done this before, and sure, he should have just asked you out, but he was still apprehensive but seeing the way you’re looking him in the eye, bashful smile on your lips, and literally hanging off him, he notes he probably had no reason to worry.

With your drink in your hand, you scope out the dance floor; you note more than a handful of men and women looking over in your direction, particularly at Yoongi, who seems oblivious as he bops his head to the beat. You hide your smile behind your glass, ignoring the flutter of your heart as you take in his side profile, mesmerized by his eyes and the perfect curve of his lips. How lucky you were to be at his side; though if you ask Yoongi, he’d say the same about you.

After a moment, you look back at the dance floor, gently rocking side to side with the beat. Yoongi smiles to himself, nerves eating him up inside, but you just look so darn cute!

“Dance with me,” Yoongi states when you finish your second drink. You hesitate for a split second before throwing caution to the wind and taking his ringed hand. Giggling, you follow him to the crowded dance floor, your arms on his shoulders when you stop in front of him.

You allow Yoongi to lead, his large hands on your waist as you sway your hips to the beat. When he leans in closer, his hair falls over his eyes and you can’t resist the urge to push the strands, running your hands through it and bringing him closer.

“Thank you for tonight,” you say as you lean in closer.

Yoongi nods, “no problem.”

Yoongi’s eyes lock on yours, lips a mere centimeter from yours as the people around you fade along with the background. Nerves be damned, you think as you dance against him, earning a groan from him when you give him your back.

Wetting his lips, Yoongi watches your body as you move effortlessly against him. His hands remain at your hips, maybe even higher to be respectful, but when you guide them to your thighs, he knows you want him to be anything but.

Heated, Yoongi follows your lead instead. His hands map out your body over the thin material of your dress. He knows he could easily tear it off your body with his teeth if you’d let him. Fuck, this isn’t what he wanted tonight to be about, but with another roll of your hips, his body takes over instead of his mind.

Lost in you, Yoongi enjoys the softness of your body in his hands. So much so that he spins you around to face him. Nothing exists but the two of you, everything turning into background noise as you look into his eyes and lean into him, silently begging him to kiss you. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, his gaze shifting to your lips for a second before his lips are perfectly molded to yours.

Sparks. Immediate sparks appear behind your eyelids as your lips move in sync with his, your heart hammering against your ribs.

Kissing Yoongi is soft and slow, like a setting sunset, magical. Time seems to stop as the kiss grows deeper, his hands cupping your face as yours goes around his neck, your body pressed to his. Yoongi is the first to break the kiss, worried eyes reading yours in case he’s overstepped, but all he finds is your coquette smile as you pull him in for another kiss that he easily melts into.

From slow and sweet to deep and sensual, the kiss curls your toes as his hands grip your hips while your hands grip his shirt, not ready or willing to let him go.

Smiling into the kiss, you take a second to look him in the eye. Your heart is pounding in your chest, wondering what all this means, but the club is too loud for a proper conversation.

“Should we go?” Yoongi asks, as if reading your mind. You nod, immediately lacing your hand with his as he leads you toward the front door, checking to make sure you’re still behind him before pushing through a crowd to get you in front where he can keep his eyes on you.

His eyesight may stray a little below your waist, but he can’t help it when you sway your hips as you head for the front door.

The cool night air hits you like a welcome home hug, fresh and much-needed on your heated skin as you inhale deeply.

The moonlight shines brightly, not a cloud in the sky to dim its glow as Yoongi takes your hand to lead you to the car.

When you arrive, you stop in front of the passenger side door, wondering what it all means and what’s about to happen once you get home.

Yoongi cups your cheek, his thumb gentle on your skin as he strokes it. “This doesn’t have to go any further.” He swallows thickly, gathering up the courage as your eyes shine brightly with hope. It gives him the courage to continue. “I like you. A lot.”

“Yoongi,” you whisper.

Yoongi remains silent as he waits for you to continue. The quick beating of his heart rivals the wings of a hummingbird, but he won’t interrupt when you’re smiling and giggling softly.

“I like you too,” you admit with a coy smile. Heat flushes your cheeks and Yoongi feels it beneath his palm, a grin appearing on his lips as he sighs in relief.

“I won’t lie,” he chuckles. “I was a little worried.”

You take a step back, smiling as your hand cups his cheek, drawing him to your lips. Butterflies swirl around as they flutter their wings in your belly, adrenaline coursing through you. Never did you imagine tonight would turn out this way. Sure, you hoped and daydreamed and even wore your lucky panties but standing here with Yoongi’s lips on yours, sparks going off behind your eyelids-it was better than anything you could have imagined.

“Let’s go home,” Yoongi whispers, finding it hard to pull away from you as you exchange tiny kisses until an icy gust of wind sends shivers down your spine and carries Yoongi’s laugh with it.

The drive home seems to go on for eons.

Yoongi’s hand rests on your thigh, fingertips tracing patterns on your skin. Your thighs press together as you study his side profile mercilessly, desperate to lean over the console, grip him by the collar of his shirt, and lay one on him.

“Soon, princess,” Yoongi smirks when he stops at a red light. He turns to you for the first time since you got in the car and his beautiful smile disarms you as you wriggle in your seat. Embarrassingly, you’re already wet, and just from a few kisses and bashful smiles from the man beside you. His hand on your thigh didn’t help.

“I know,” you utter, biting your lip as he cards his hand through his fluffy black hair, ruffled by the wind just moments before. Fuck, you want to run your fingers through it. Want to tug on it until he’s groaning against your neck, begging you to pull harder.

Swallowing thickly, you finally look away. The press of your thighs doesn’t go unnoticed, but a honk from the car behind you draws Yoongi’s attention back to the road.

“Soon,” he repeats as he taps his fingers on the steering wheel, dark eyes focused on the road, and his soft voice singing along to the song on the radio.

His hand never leaves your thigh.

Stumbling into your apartment with hushed laughter, Yoongi shuts the door after him, dropping his keys on the floor as you fight your heels off your feet, not wanting to go even a second without Yoongi on your lips.

“Princes,” he says through laughter, his incredulous smile on his lips. “This isn’t working. You’re gonna fall.”

“You’ll catch me, won’t you?” you tease but place your hand on the wall to support yourself while you undo the clasp of one heel and then the other.

“Always,” Yoongi answers seriously. He kicks his shoes off along with his socks, and once you’re steady on your bare feet, he’s got you back in his arms.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” you admit coyly. Heat blooms in your cheeks and spreads throughout your body in embarrassment. In your mind, you curse yourself out for saying too much too soon, but all Yoongi does is kiss you in response.

“You’re not the only one, baby.”

Screeching internally, you nod. Your arms wrap around his neck to draw him closer and his pretty black hair falls over his eyes as he leans in to kiss you.

Before his lips can capture yours again, in the same toe-curling way as before, a loud meow interrupts and has you two springing apart.

“Spider!” you gasp, a hand clutched to your chest. “You scared me.”

“Meow!” Spider cries again, wrapping around your leg.

“Her bowl’s empty,” Yoongi shakes his head with a laugh. He takes a moment to fill her bowl in the kitchen, and Spider loses all interest in the both of you as she goes to have her dinner.

“That’ll keep her busy for a bit,” Yoongi says as he approaches you, kissing you hungrily with his hand tangled in your hair and your teeth knocking into each other. He steals your breath away, a gasp escaping you when you’re pressed to an icy wall on your way to his bedroom.

Your hands are tugging and pulling at his clothing, his belt undone and his shirt untucked.

Panting, you break away for air. Cheesy smiles on both your faces.

Thinking clearly, you wonder if you're doing the right thing.

As always, Yoongi seems to be on the same page as you. You aren’t surprised in the slightest when he asks, “Are we making a bad decision?”

“I think we’re making the best decision,” you answer honestly once you’ve taken a moment to think it through. Sure, things could go wrong, but how can it when it feels so right?

“Say no more,” Yoongi murmurs against your lips, guiding you to his bedroom, and shutting the door after you. Not even five minutes later, you’ll hear a scratch and an annoyed meow at the door that you’ll both be too preoccupied to acknowledge properly.

“Fuck,” Yoongi groans when you turn around for him to unzip your dress with the fingers you’ve imagined on your skin time and time again. You swear his fingers alone are enough to get you off, but that’s a secret you’ll keep to yourself until next time.

With each inch of skin exposed, his lips press a kiss to your spine until your red dress is pooled at your feet in a puddle of fabric.

Carefully, Yoongi spins you around for you to face him. Your breath gets caught in your throat as you meet his sparkling gaze. Gentle hands grip your hips, leading you backward until your body meets a wall.

An intense desire to kiss Yoongi blooms deep inside you as you keep your eyes locked on him, waiting for his next move. By all means, you’d let him take the lead; down for whatever came of this night.

Impatiently, your hands grip Yoongi’s shirt, a chuckle escaping his lips as your fingers stumble over a button, unable to get it undone in your hurry to undress him.

“Come on, princess. How bad do you want it?” he asks with a raised brow, his pink tongue making an appearance as he places his hands over yours, guiding them in the removal of his shirt.

Easily, your hands push the useless fabric down his shoulders until it bunches at his elbows and he’s tugging it off the rest of the way to pool on the floor. Yoongi turns his head to the side, loving the way you’re eyeing him hungrily, freely. You’ve never been able to get an eyeful, always quick to avert your eyes if he ever appeared without a shirt. But this… This was paradise.

Perfect honeyed skin and broad muscular shoulders with a soft torso that has a light trail of hair that disappears under the waistband of his pants.

Yoongi is nothing but a patient man. However, you’re really testing him as you stand topless in nothing but your panties, admiring him like he’s your next meal. Quickly, he’s kissing you, his hips pressed to yours to keep you against the wall as your hands pull the belt out of the pant loops to toss it on the floor.

Soon, his tongue is slipping past the seam of your lips when a moan escapes you.

Long nights filled with the image of you just like this fill Yoongi’s mind. He drinks you in slowly, savoring the taste of your lips, your tongue. He loves how well you fit in his hands, made perfect for him.

“I need you,” you whisper against his lips, moaning when they trail down to your neck where his teeth scrape along the column of your throat. Your eyes flutter shut, nails scratching his scalp when he bites down and his hand moves to cup a breast.

“You have me,” he smirks in between kisses before he’s making his way down, taking one pert nipple into his mouth. A curse escapes you, nails uselessly scratching against the wall behind you as his teeth tug gently and you swear you get a glimpse of heaven when you look up.

Yoongi needs your heated gaze on him. After all, he’s the one that’s got you losing your mind. His hand parts your thighs, pushing your panties to the side. A sinful smile is on his lips when his fingertips feel how wet and ready you are for him. For him, all for him. His cock throbs at the thought. This was finally happening. Fuck, is he sure he’s not dreaming?

“Please, don’t tease,” you’re breathless already. A sheen of sweat coating your body and trembling thighs parted for your roommate. Licking his lips, Yoongi takes one last taste of your breast before he’s making his way down your body, licking, sucking, and groping every delicious bit of it until he’s kneeling in front of you. The last thing you expect from Min Yoongi is what he does next! With bright, sharp teeth, he tugs your panties down your thighs easily to toss over his shoulder, no longer needed.

Mind spinning, and breath caught in your throat, you meet his gaze as he looks up at you with a sinister grin that sends a tingle down your spine. Fuck, Min Yoongi was the hottest man you’d ever laid eyes on, and here he was on his knees, just waiting to please you, to make you fall apart until you’re nothing but a sopping, crying mess. Lucky you.

“Where’s the fun in just giving it to you all, princess?” Yoongi asks with mirth. He takes one of your legs in his hands, stroking it gently until he’s got just your foot in his hold.

“Baby,” you gasp, eyes focused on him as he plants a kiss on your ankle.

“Lemme take care of you. Fuck knows, I’ve been wanting to.” he licks his lips as he lifts your leg higher, placing it over his right shoulder.

Silently, you watch him with wide eyes and heavy breaths.

Yoongi’s lips are hellfire as he plants smoldering kisses up your leg ever so slowly.

The beat of your heart is nearly deafening as his lips get closer and closer to the apex of your thighs. You’re too turned on and too lost in Yoongi to even feel embarrassed about being so fucking wet, but fuck, Yoongi’s cheeky grin is enough to have you cumming at the first touch.

“Don’t be shy, baby. Let me hear you,” he says when he’s sucking on the skin until his mark is left behind and his fingers are pressed to your folds. He locks eyes with you, one brow raised as he slides them into you seconds before his tongue is licking a stripe over your wet cunt.

You bite your lip, trying not to be too eager but when he repeats his actions and his fingers pump into you, your legs tremble and all your pride flies out the window as his name rolls off your tongue in a heady cry that rattles your bones and makes Yoongi smile with satisfaction.

“That’s it, baby,” he praises as his thumb finds your clit. His hooded gaze is almost enough for you to collapse, slide down the wall, and join the puddle of discarded clothes on the bedroom floor. Who knew Yoongi could look this feral?

A rough tug of his hair wipes the sinister smirk off his face and he’s quick to retaliate with a hard suck to your clit that leaves you arching, crying out in surprise, and releasing his hair. Yoongi grunts, tongue circling your clit while he pumps his fingers into you, seeing how much you can take before he’s splitting you open on his cock.

“Yoongi,” your moan draws his attention and he’s slow to pull his lips away from you, licking them as he sets your foot on the floor before he’s rising. Your desire to kiss him wins over your desire to cum on his tongue. His fingers continue to fuck you open as he presses his forehead to yours, smirking.

“Want a taste?” he asks, lips pressed to yours, but it’s not enough. Easily, his tongue twines with yours, allowing you to get a taste of yourself, wet and sticky as he swallows your moans. “Can you come on my fingers, babe?”

You nod, breathless.

Yoongi chuckles at your eagerness, speeding up and feeling your arousal dripping down to his wrist as you make the sweetest sounds he’s ever heard.

Cursing, you cling to him, nails digging into his bare shoulder as you try to remain upright, sharing sloppy kisses with remnants of you still on his lips and tongue.

“Fuck, right there! Yoongi!” you gasp as you bury your face in his chest as he presses his lower body to your hip. You feel the hardness of his cock, aching to be inside you. Eager hands greet him, pawing at his pants.

“Focus, baby,” Yoongi laughs, his thumb adding pressure to your clit. He bites back a laugh when your eyes roll back, gripping the wall instead as your thighs shake, his name heavy on your tongue as you beg him to let you come.

Yoongi is mesmerized by the look on your face. Blissful pleasure surges through you as you fall apart for him, soaking his hand and making him groan when you’re pulling him into a rough kiss that leaves him wanting more when you’re pulling away, panting and pleading for no more.

“Next time I’m eating you out on the bed,” Yoongi clicks his tongue as his fingers leave your body, only to be taken into his mouth, his fiery tongue licking each one clean. “And I’m making you cum on my tongue.”

You’re speechless, which just makes him snicker.

“I didn’t get my fill.”

Body burning, you watch as he sucks on his fingers, lewdly moaning as he sucks them dry.

Swallowing thickly, you await his next move as he pops his fingers out of his mouth. “Try it?”

Your mouth opens automatically, welcoming his soaked appendages. Your mouth closes around his fingers, softly mewling as he lets them sit heavy on your tongue. A mix of his saliva and your arousal coats your taste buds for a moment before he tells you to open up for him.

“You look so good sucking on my fingers, baby,” he praises with a smug look on his face. You know his following words will disarm you, and they do! “Makes me wonder what you’d look like sucking on my dick instead.”

“Who says you have to wonder?” you smile teasingly, licking your lips as you palm him over his pants and squeeze.

Nothing could have prepared you for the guttural groan he releases or the thickness of his cock just yearning to be released.

“Fuck,” he huffs a laugh as he pushes you carefully to the wall behind you. His hand cups your face, kissing you hurriedly, as if you were going to disappear if he ever stopped.

You smile into the kiss, greedy hands running over his beautiful body until you link your fingers with his. Exchanging a few more sweet kisses and a few that surely raise your blood pressure, you separate long enough to loop a finger through the loop in his pants to lead him to his bed.

Hungrily, you kiss him, ignoring the rampant thumping of your heart as you unbutton his pants and tug the zipper down. You take a step back to get an eyeful of him in his boxers as you’re pulling his pants lower until he can kick them off.

You lick your lips as you take him in. Yoongi notes the way you’re biting your lip now, your heated gaze on the happy trail that disappears into his black boxers.

Yoongi’s hair falls over his eyes, a large veiny hand pushes it back and you’re once again enamored by his hands and the veins that seem so prominent tonight. For a moment you wonder what it would be like to have one wrapped around your throat while you lock eyes with him, breathless and whimpering as your eyes roll back and his cock splits you in two.

Fuck, you don’t think you would survive.

“Lost in thought, princess?” Yoongi checks in with a half smile that is very much cocky. You clench around nothing, realizing how empty your cunt feels and how desperately you want him in any of your holes. Hell, you’d let him fuck any of them at this point with the look he’s giving you. You nearly bend over and tell him to have his pick, but you regain your thoughts instead.

“Your hands,” you mutter weakly.

“What about them, baby?” he asks cockily, as if he doesn’t already know. But no, Min Yoongi wants you to work for it, to earn it.

“Want them wrapped around my throat.” you answer with a sigh.

“Is that so?” he queries with a raised brow.

You nod, licking your lips.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he smirks.

Not wanting to waste any more time, you push Yoongi onto his bed. He falls easily, his legs hanging over the edge from the knee below as he puts his arms under his head, awaiting your next move.

You gather every bit of courage within. One leg goes over his hips, straddling him. You seat your ass on his crotch, loving the way he’s looking at you, black hair splayed on his gray comforter in a mess of black loose curls.

Your hand rests beside his head, your hair falling in between you like a curtain as you lean in for a kiss. Yoongi is eager to kiss, to feel your body on his. He’s not sure what to expect, but he wants you to feel good. That alone is his primary concern.

However, the warmth of your body is enough to make his cock throb, more so when you’re kissing a trail from his lips, jaw, down to his neck. A messy splatter of kisses on his sensitive skin. His head turned to expose more of his honeyed skin, the beautiful slope of his neck soon covered with your kisses and love marks.

Yoongi is in paradise as each pass of your tongue is followed by a deep suck of your lips. Your teeth scrape his skin, deep moans escaping him as you suck a mark near his collarbone before you’re kissing down his chest, leaving little red marks in your wake.

Yoongi’s nearly panting by the time you reach his happy trail. He sits up on his elbows, hooded eyes following your every move as you palm him over the cotton material of his boxers. A shuddered breath escapes him followed by a soft groan that rattles you to the core.

“Don’t tease,” he breathes, head lolled back as your tongue runs over the bulge in his boxers. You giggle at his response, curses thrown into the ceiling as you pull his boxers down just a little.

A feather-light kiss is pressed just below his navel. A lick here, a suck there, and soon you’re tugging his boxers off all the way until he’s kicking them off to the side.

You’re both naked, and you take a moment to appreciate the beauty of his body. Every inch of him is perfect.

Cursing and biting your bottom lip, you take in his hard cock, thick and throbbing, as you wrap your hand around him. Slowly, you wrap your lips around the head, welcoming him into your warm mouth while he watches intently.

“Shit,” Yoongi curses, body thrumming with desire as he feels your tongue swirl around the head once, teasing the slit before taking more of him in your mouth. All he can do is watch with hooded eyes as you run your tongue over his length, a hand rolling his balls in your palm.

A heavenly sigh leaves Yoongi as he falls back onto his bed. You smile as you pull off him, your hand wrapped around his cock, using it to smear your saliva around him.

“Good?” you ask with a lilt in your voice that has Yoongi sitting up.

“Yes,” he admits, cheeks flushed pink.

Not wanting to disappoint, you take him back in your mouth, sucking and slurping messily as salvia pools at his pelvis with each bob of your head. His cock feels heavy on your tongue, pre-cum coating your taste buds and the head hitting the back of your throat, making you gag just a bit.

You do your best to maintain eye contact, but sucking him off makes your thighs quiver and your pussy wetter. Fuck, you need some sort of stimulation or perhaps maybe you can cum like this?

Yoongi runs his hand over your thigh, pulling you closer to him so you’re at his side instead of between his thighs. His large hand runs over your ass, groping it before his fingers are running between your wet folds.

“Fuck, you’re soaking wet, princess. Sucking my cock gets you this soaked?” he licks his lips, slowly rubbing your clit with his fingers.

You do your best to nod, gagging on his cock before releasing it with a gasping breath. Yoongi nearly loses it when he sees a bridge of saliva connecting your lips to his cock.

“Yes,” you’re too cock-hungry to lie to him, besides he can feel just how aroused you are from sucking him off. Your hand still strokes him, eyes focused on his dick as you take him back in your mouth working harder to suck him off.

Up and down you go, slurping obscenely and spitting on the head before sucking it back in your mouth. Yoongi grabs your hair, guiding you as you try to suck the soul out of him. Every dulcet sound that escapes him, fuels your desire to please him. You breathe through your nose, not wanting to part with him even for a second to catch your breath.

His hand stays laced in your hair, the other feeling the curve of your ass, smacking it to make you gasp and open your mouth wider. Yoongi growls, cursing before he’s pulling you off him.

“I wasn’t done,” you pout when you’re sitting up.

Yoongi chuckles, smiling in disbelief. “But I almost was.”

Your pout remains on your lips until he kisses it away.

“You can suck it until I cum down your throat next time, okay?” he asks, awaiting your response.

You nod. “Next time.”

Yoongi grins, kissing you once again and you easily straddle him, hand wrapped around his cock as you roll your hips.

“I want to be inside you so bad,” Yoongi admits in a low tone that makes you clench around nothing in anticipation.

“Say no more,” you press a kiss on his pretty lips as you raise your hips and line his cock up at your entrance. Slowly you sink on him, biting your bottom lip as you welcome the stretch of his thick cock.

“Fuck,” you exhale, feeling haggard as your ass finally hits his thighs and he bottoms out. Yoongi isn’t faring much better, a lustful groan escaping him as his eyes flutter shut and his cock throbs.

“Yeah,” he sighs, smiling as he takes you in. You smile bashfully, enjoying the feeling of being utterly full, thighs already trembling at his sides as his hands grip your hips, thumbs rubbing circles into your skin.

Slowly, you raise your hips, your hands planted firmly on his chest as you ride him. Yoongi’s hands move from your hips to your ass, grabbing and kneading as he enjoys the view of your tits bouncing as you ride his cock.

“Just like that, princess,” Yoongi’s tongue peeks out from the corner of his lips and it sends you into a frenzy, fucking him harder and faster. The loud slapping of skin fills your ears and if you weren’t so focused on your pleasure and his, you’d be utterly embarrassed.

“I can’t believe I’ve been missing out on this,” you groan, riding him harder. You love being so fucking full. You swear you can feel him in your belly, rearranging your insides and you nearly cream yourself thinking about it.

Yoongi chuckles. “All you had to do was ask, baby girl.”

You look at him, biting back a moan when he smacks your ass and soothes it with his palm after.

“If I had known, we would have been doing this from the get-go,” you feel your thighs giving out, panting as you slow and whimper when your muscles feel like they’re cramping.

Yoongi smirks. His eyes fixate on where your bodies are joined, watching his cock disappear inside you. Fuck, you two should have been doing this from the get-go. How many nights did he spend feeling guilty thinking of you with his hand wrapped around his cock and your name on his lips? And unbeknownst to him, you were getting off in your bedroom, mouthing his name with your head thrown back on the pillow, legs shaking and bed sheets soaked with your orgasm.

When Yoongi notices you’re slowing down, he rubs your leg before taking your hands in his and squeezing them. The sweet gesture has you stopping to roll your hips instead, curiously watching as he brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing kisses on all your fingers before he licks the tip of one.

This man is nothing but sinful.

“Come here,” he says, as his hand cups your face and he sits up to press his lips on yours, kissing you slowly. You moan into the kiss, melting at his touch, and before you know it, you’re on your hands and knees.

You giggle, looking at him over your shoulder as he strokes his cock, soaked with your arousal and his pre-cum.

“Fuck, baby. You look so good like this. Wanna cum all over your ass,” Yoongi curses again, his hand grabbing your ass and squeezing it. He spanks you gently, but you beg him to do it harder and he complies.

You moan into the pillow below you, only to be pulled up by your hair.

“Those moans are mine, princess. Let me hear them,” he smirks when he sees you clench, pussy glistening with your essence as he slides home.

“Yoongi!” you gasp, hands gripping the sheets beneath you. Yoongi chuckles, setting a pace that leaves you breathless as his hand smacks your ass again and again, the sting of his hand matching the one on your ass.

Yoongi curses, licking his lips as he fucks you. Your sweet moans go straight to his dick, mind reeling with lust as he fucks your harder, deeper, just to draw out those dulcet moans that make him want to stuff you full of his cum.

“Yoongi!” you breathe, clinging to his hand and begging for more as your hips meet each of his thrusts. Yoongi grunts, watching the jiggle of your ass with each of his thrusts. You’re soaking wet, so warm and delicious wrapped around him. His head falls back, shaking his hair out of his eyes as a sheen of sweat coats your body and his. Fuck, if he knew you felt this amazing he would have confessed sooner just to feel you wrapped around his cock.

Yoongi is losing his mind, filth spilling from his lips as his eyes fixate on the way you take his cock, creaming around him as he goes. You’re so needy, so impatient, you fuck yourself on his dick. He chuckles, smacking your ass when it meets his pelvis as your thighs tremble and your hands shake until you fall face first into the pillows, inhaling his scent.

Yoongi chuckles, clicking his tongue as he takes mercy on you. He pulls out, laughing when you whine at the loss of his fat cock. He helps you onto your back, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips before he’s sinking into you, your legs wrapped around his hips to draw him close. Fuck, you’d never unravel yourself from his hips if you could help it. With Yoongi above you, black hair mussed, lips pink from kissing, and beautiful buff chest, you’d say you were in heaven.

Yoongi smirks, almost as if he could hear your thoughts, and it causes you to clench around him. A guttural groan escapes him, hips stuttering as he grabs your breast, fingers teasing your nipple.

“Behave,” he grunts as you tighten around him again. His name rolls off your tongue, your hands running over his body before settling on his shoulders, nails digging into his skin, pulling him close as your lips connect.

Yoongi doesn’t stop fucking you, he slows his pace, rolling his hips instead and hitting all those spots that make you see stars when your eyes flutter shut. You moan, melting beneath him as you kiss him deeply, all teeth and tongues as your moans are muffled in between.

You’re so close. You can feel it deep in your abdomen and in the quivering of your legs, in the tingles that run down your spine and the pulsating of your cunt. Yoongi groans, face buried in your neck, teeth scraping along your sensitive skin, marking you as his.

“Fuck, baby. I’m close,” he admits in a deep, grave tone that sends your stomach flipping.

“Come inside,” you plead, tightening around him.

Yoongi hisses, dark eyes locked on yours. He kisses you one more time, your name on his lips as his hips slam into you, his fingers rubbing your clit as he listens for the rise in octaves until you’re coming undone and taking him with you.

With one last grunt of your name, he spills inside you, coating you generously as he rocks his hips until he’s spent and pulling out.

Yoongi lies beside you, smiling brightly when you look at him. You grin, curling into his side and he welcomes you eagerly.

“Fuck, princess,” he breathes with his arm draped over his chest as he tries to regulate his breathing. “You nearly killed me.”

You giggle, rolling your eyes. “Shut up! I won’t be able to walk tomorrow.”

Yoongi smirks, pleased with himself. “Good.”

You grin, too spent to tease him further. Yoongi is content lying with you at his side, tiny kisses exchanged between you until you’re falling asleep in his arms.

Heat surrounds your body as you sleepily blink your eyes open. A yawn threatens to slip past your lips as you try to stretch in your spot but realize you can’t. A warm weight sits on your waist, a dark mop of hair rests on your chest and flashes of last night hit you head on.

You smile shyly at the memories, flushing with heat as you try to wiggle out of Yoongi’s hold and you remember the night you’d spent with him just like this.

“Stop moving,” comes his sleep-addled voice, a groan leaving him as he tightens his arm around you, snuggling further into your chest. You giggle softly, fingers scratching at his scalp until he’s unwinding himself from you and hastily kisses your lips.

“Morning,” he says, throwing his arms in the air to stretch and then running a hand through his hair. He sits silent for a few moments, and fear spikes up inside you. Did he regret it?

“It’s too early to be up, baby. Can we go back to sleep?” he asks with a sleepy grin. You sigh in relief.

“Sure,” you say. “We can sleep some more. In fact, we don’t have to get out of bed at all.”

“Don’t tempt me,” he nearly growls as he captures your lips with his, kissing you deeply. You moan, eyes fluttering shut as your hand grabs his hair at the nape of his neck. Yoongi curses, tongue twining with yours and soon you’re spreading your legs for him, welcoming him in.

Yoongi settles between your thighs. A soft exchange of kisses keeps him at your lips. Groans and soft moans of your name fill his bedroom as your hand wraps around his length, already hard and dribbling pre-cum. You press your thumb to the slit, coating the head with it before you’re popping it into your mouth.

“Fuck, princess. Keep doing stuff like that and I won’t last long,” Yoongi admits, pressing his lips to yours as you stroke his cock slowly, teasing him by rubbing the head on your clit until you’re lining him up at your entrance.

Yoongi locks eyes with you, one hand gripping yours, fingers laced as he sinks into you all at once.

You groan, arching slightly and biting back a moan at the slight pain of the stretch. It’s a delicious ache that makes your body tingle as his name rolls off your tongue and your nails dig into his back, dragging down his skin to leave pink welts in their wake.

“You’re determined to make me come already, aren’t you?” he asks with a half-smile. You nod, pressing your lips to him and pulling him closer as he pulls out, leaving the tip inside before he’s sliding home again. Yoongi’s hair clouds his vision and you push it out of the way, wanting to see his pretty eyes, cute nose, and perfect lips. He’s truly a vision to behold and now he’s yours. All yours.

Without warning, Yoongi sets a mouth-watering pace that leaves you breathless with each thrust. The headboard slams against the wall, your legs tremble as they try to cling to his waist and your hand is digging at the sheets beneath you in search of anything to hold on to.

Each roll of his hips, and each guttural groan and moan of your name has you spiraling head first into your first orgasm of the day, because if you think this is it, you’re gladly mistaken. Yoongi won’t be able to keep his hands to himself now that he’s yours. Now that you’re his. He’s tasted every bit of you and he’d be damned if he could ever give you up now.

“Cum with me, princess. Want to feel you cum all over my cock. Fucking cream it if you want,” Yoongi breathes, sweat beaded on his forehead between his brows.

“Yes! Fuck, please,” you plead as his thumb rubs your clit and his lips pepper kisses across your collarbones before he’s nuzzled into your neck, his dulcet moans melting into your skin as you hug him close, begging him to make you cum.

“Oh, fuck! Yoongi!” you cry out as your body quakes from the force of your orgasm. Yoongi right behind as he groans heavenly into your neck, cursing as he rolls his hips until he’s utterly spent.

“Oh, fuck! Yoongi!” Jimin’s eyes widened as he stepped into your apartment unannounced with his own key.

Surely he couldn’t have heard correctly?

Spider meows in greeting at seeing a Jimin, immediately wrapping around his leg as the door falls shut behind him.

“Yoongi!” This time there’s no mistaking it! Jimin burns scarlet as he scoops up Spider. He hastily opens the door of the hall closet, singing “la la la” at the top of his lungs, though you rival him when another moan fills the apartment. Man, do you have a set of lungs or what?

“Don’t you worry, baby girl. I’m getting you out of here!” Jimin opens the stroller, attaching the leash to Spider’s collar and zipping the stroller shut as he opens the front door. Spider meows, startling Jimin as another pleasurable moan filters through the home.

“Bye! Taking my cat niece to my place! Ya nasties! Text me later!” Of course, Jimin gets no response as he shuts the front door so hard it rattles. He shakes his head as he heads down the hall, looking at Spider through the netting of the stroller.

“You know, this isn’t what I meant when I said she should take Yoongi.”

next >>

thank you for reading! ♡ if you liked it, please let me know! 💌

#bangtanarmynet #btshoneyhive #btsgoldnet #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader insert #yoongi x you #yoongi x y/n #yoongi fluff and smut #bts yoongi fanfiction #roommate!yoongi

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quitealotofsodapop · 4 months ago

Note

This goes for all the Egg aus where Wukong is with egg during the Journey, but I like or think Wukong never, explicitly, informs his Pilgrim brothers just how risky and dangerous his pregnancy was. Only Ao Lie even has a clue, and that'd only be because he overheard Wukong and Guanyin talking about it.

Cutting to Jttw and Soft Boiled au, that means when the baby comes, none of them are prepared for the seven times immortal sage to NEARLY DIE in childbirth! It's at its most chaotic and frightening in Soft Boile because they didn't have Macaque there to fill in the blanks, so from their perspective, they just were doing this very dangerous ritual when Wikogn suddenly collapses in massive amounts of pain. At first they think he had just gotten cocky and Nezha starts to yell at him after Ao Lie steps in to prevent the stray fire form hitting him and Tripitaka. But before he can smack him with his ring he pauses, seeing something that DEFINITELY shouldn't be there, and his jaw drops in horrified realization that A) Wukong is pregnant and B) the ritual had thrown him into an early labor and they'll potentially lose the baby if they don't get him some medical attention NOW!!

DBK, just hearing this is absolutely panicking. His baby boy is safe but suddenly his little brother is in labor and he recalls a small anecdote, just a bit of dialog he had with Wukong when they were bith still very young back in the Brotherhood and talking about a potential future, you're average "think you'll ever have kids" conversation. Wukong had brushed the matter off, saying that he wanted one eventually but not for a very long time since it's more risky for him. He hadn't known what he'd meant then and thought it was related to the many enemies they had.

When Guanyin and Gold Star appear (they were probably having tea or something together) and reveal that Wukong dying in childbirth is actually a very high possibility since "Stone Monkeys sacrifice their own dao to bring their young into the world," DBK suddenly has a whole new realization about what Wukong had meant and panics even harder because his bratty little brother KNEW and never fucking told any of them!

Yeah, Wukong gets into a lot of trouble when he hides just how dangerous having kids is to him.

Especially when having said kid interrupts a very dangerous ritual and sends him into early labour!

I love the mental imagery of Nezha shouting at Wukong for "getting cocky" during the Ritual, only for his own God of Children-senses to kick in as he notices an extra soul there.

In the Jttw Stone Egged/Post-Jttw Au the "extra" is MK himself, while in the Soft Boiled Au it's little Yuebei. And unlike Slow Boiled, where Yuebei is ok to chill out for a few more centuries; the second the ritual is over, the baby is ready to Go NOW.

(btw; me and a bud were discussing the hilarity and chaos that would ensue if both babies were in there. A little double-yolk egg where big chubby Xiaotian is curled protectively around his tinier sister Yuebei. XD)

DBK freaking tf OUT, cus while his baby is safe and no longer in pain from hosting a primordial fire - he just learned that Wukong's own baby is in grave danger! He quickly alerts PIF to whats happening so that they can organise Red's care and tend to Wukong at the same time.

Guanyin is like second on the scene - Nezha zipped over on his fiery rings the second he realised it was a birth-related matter, panicking as a teen boy does. Gold Star was just there checking in when he heard the news.

Overall, no matter if the other monkey is present or not; the birth of a new Stone Monkey, and the survival of the Parent, is a monumental occasion.

Even if the parent is about to get yelled at by 10+ family members for hiding the severity of his condition.

#stone egg talk #pregnancy tw #sun wukong #soft boiled stone egg au #jttw stone egg au #lmk nezha #lmk dbk #lmk demon bull king #lmk guanyin #lmk #lego monkie kid #lmk aus

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eldritch-spouse · 6 months ago

Note

I want to know how many monsters spend their paychecks at Gallon's bar crying because they developed feelings for Santi 💀

" I just... He's so amazing man. I don't even know why I'm crying, I don't deserve him. "

The latest sad sap cries onto his precious counter. Gallon circumvents them to give Fasma a shot of plain whiskey.

" You really don't. " He mumbles.

" H- Huh? "

" Nothing. Say champ, why not have another night with the hunk if you like him so much? " The bartender tilts his head, trying to cheer up the loser, or get them off his metaphorical nuts.

The monster sniffles, looking into the distance, where none other than the incubus is seen on his knees, hands on his thighs and tongue out as he apparently waits for a woman to squirt in his mouth while her hammered friends cheer her on. Gallon follows their gaze. Yeah, seems like a standard night for the resident manwhore.

" Just look at him, so radiant, so perfect. I don't want sex, dude- I want to love him! "

Fasma grimaces, definitely not because of the alcohol. He's seen Santi effortlessly do some of the dirtiest shit he could ever imagine, the thought of kissing those lips could send the old geezer into an early grave.

Gallon continues to work. " Oh boy. " He hopes this one makes a scene. It's a bit fun when they break down and throw a tantrum because the incubus won't give them the light of day unless they're putting out.

The depressed sod sniffles. " Do you think I have a chance? I... I have his phone number. "

Everyone and their mother has Santi's phone number. Maybe their father too.

Gallon grins creepily wide. " Suuure buddy, give it an honest shot. The worst he can say is no, right? " Fasma wordlessly shakes his head in disapproval of the slime's cruelty.

His client starts clumsily tip-tapping at their phone, likely typing something extensive and heartfelt, and now Gallon has to admit he's invested. If only because he knows how it'll end, and he likes to see the light fade from a hopeless romantic's eyes.

A phone eventually pings on the opposite corner of the counter, Santi's. It prompts the incubus to come over, still sucking the cuntjuice out of his fingers, some coating his chin. He doesn't bother to look around as he unlocks his device and squints at the notification. Gallon, Fasma and the client are eerily silent while he opens the text.

The incubus reads about the first three lines, frowns, then looks up. " Gallon, are you busy? "

" Uhh... Not any more than usual, why? "

The phone is slid his way. " Write me a rejection message here, please. I don't want this one coming back. "

And just like that, he turns back around, likely to see if any of the other girls can play with him too.

Gallon has to contain a maddening bark of laughter that is slowly turning him orange. He didn't even recognize the mess of a monster looking so hopefully at him from just across the counter. Oh that has got to sting!

He absolutely loses his cool and has to muffle his cackling when the monster in question wails brokenly and buries their head in their arms, sobbing like a dejected baby.

Fasma pats their back twice. They need that whiskey more than him.

#Gallon oc #Santi oc #Fasma oc #tce rp ask #pov: Santi rejects you

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dragons-and-dwarves-are-nice · 9 months ago

Text

The Grim Reaper's Guide to Breaking Every Rule of the Universe /// Chapter 1

I just want to say thank you so much to everyone who showed love towards the prologue and the memes I made, I've ended up gaining more followers in the last week than I have in the last couple years lol. Unfortunately Alastor isn't going to make an appearance for at least two chapters, but I hope you like what I've written so far. Enjoy!

Summary: When touring America for the sake of it, you go to stay with your aunt in New Orleans for a while, taking up a peaceful part-time job restoring objects. But a few weeks in, a package arrives containing an old radio that's seen better days, along with a note seemingly written by someone who thinks they could fist-fight the Devil.

What you didn't know, was the hell of a path that was now set out in front of you. Not fist-fighting the Devil, but instead a very smug radio host who would have no problem spending the rest of his days driving you up the walls.

But two could play that game.

Tags: Demiromantic-Asexual Alastor x Demiromantic-Asexual OC/Reader - 1920s/30s New Orleans - fluff - angst - EXTREME slow burn - crack - Violence (It's Alastor what else)

Word Count: 5278

Warnings: Period-typical racism and sexism, Period-typical attitudes towards neurodivergency. MC'S RACE IS DEFINED DUE TO PLOT REASONS (also because she is based off my OC)

Taglist - comment or message to be added!

Now available on Wattpad and AO3 (please let me know if links aren't working)

< Prologue // Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 >

PART 1: Chapter 1

Congrats! You're Adopted

Impluvius (Definition): Soaked with rain. (Adjective)

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Tuesday, 11th June, 1929.

Arriving on your Aunt’s doorstep soaked to the bone in the middle of a hurricane was the last thing on your list of ‘crazy crap that could happen’. But alas, here you were, shivering and seething as you hauled your trunks up the steps to the front door. You were lucky enough that the area was only being battered by the edge of the storm, allowing you to find a sleeper train that was still willing to run from Montgomery to New Orleans, but it had left you in a sour mood when they had revoked their food services, because damn you were in the mood for a simple ham and cheese sandwich. And the mood only had to sour further when you found yourself standing outside the station for a good fifteen minutes waiting for a driver whilst you and your belongings were drowned by the ongoing summer downpour. Sure, you were used to the torrential downpour of the Yorkshire moors, where there were more wet days than dry, but you were prepared for that, not for the barbarous battering of the 70mph winds that forced you to stuff your useless hat away, leaving the once neat updo of hair that you had meticulously styled that morning to whip you in the eye whenever a gale flew past.

And, as if the gods had something out for you, the taxi that pulled up decided it would be hilarious to speed to a stop in the middle of the giant puddle that had accumulated next to the pavement, sending out a small wave that reached your ankles, soaking your frilly socks and favourite patterned heeled oxford shoes that your mother had gifted on your 18th birthday.

“Oh for Christ’s sake.” You hissed to yourself, lifting your foot to inspect the leather. The driver was lucky that they were already three years old, otherwise you would’ve given him a glare deathly enough to send him to an early grave. Or so you hoped.

Thankfully, the driver didn’t pay you much attention, clearly too tired for small talk, simply asking for an address. Though he had paused when you spoke, turning to eye you up and down where you were cramped uncomfortably between your luggage in the back seat, grunting out a “You English?”, to which you nodded, muttering that you were visiting your aunt. The drive was silent after that, the only sound being the loud sputtering engine and the rain that pounded against the windshield. Minutes passed and you were quickly outside the house, which led to now: trembling in your boots, rapping your knuckle against the green wooden door with wet hair clinging to your face and eyebags that could rival a chronic insomniac.

It wasn’t long until the sound of locks clicking and unlatching reached your ears, and the door creaked open, an eye peeking through the gap. After it landed on you, it quickly swung open, revealing your Aunt Agnes in a nightgown and robe, with an oil lantern in hand. At the sight of her, you gave a half-wave and shaky smile.

She gasped your name. “Oh, there you are my lovely! I thought you got lost in the storm!” Realising the state you were in, she hurriedly placed the lantern on the hallway cabinet, rushing out to help you haul your luggage in. “I was so worried your train had been cancelled by the hurricane. Here, get yourself out the cold – you can put your coat to dry by the fire.” She handed you your leather duffel bag before crouching down and lugging the largest trunk into her arms with a grunt. Making sure everything was in the hallway, she went to close the door, though you didn’t miss the wary scan she took of the street, or the diligent focus of making sure every lock and chain was in place. The wariness soon disappeared, however, as she spun around to face with a grin, her thick braid of long, brown hair whipping over her shoulder.

Giggling as she bounded over, she wrapped you up in a strong hug, and you reciprocated with matching eagerness, but also trying your best not to cringe at the squelching noises your waterlogged coat made.

“It’s so nice to see you!” You said exhausted as you released her, teeth still chattering from the chill. “The rooves were practically coming off in Montgomery, so I’m surprised they were willing to keep the trains running.”

“Well there’s no need to worry about that any more, you’re here now! Come, I must get you warmed up.” she asserted warmly, leading you with a hand rubbing against your back, down the hallway into the kitchen. Rummaging through a wicker basket, she pulled out a spare nightgown. “Go see if your spare underwear is dry, then head to the bathroom across the hall and change into this. I’ll go make you some warm milk and honey.”

Thanking her, you quickly made your way into the living room where your belongings had been left, unlatching the clasps of the trunk to reveal your damp clothing. Luckily, there was some underwear in the middle that had not yet been affected, so you grabbed them and returned to the hallway to try and find the bathroom.

After several failed attempts of opening the wrong doors, you finally came across the bathroom, eagerly shedding yourself of your dripping wet layers, welcoming the warmth of the soft, dry underwear and ivory coloured nightgown. Returning to the living room, you dumped your wet clothes on your trunk, before walking around the sofa. Planting your behind in the armchair closest to the fire, you melted into the cushions with a relieved sigh, sticking your feet out in front of the flames to try and get some feeling back in your toes.

It wasn’t long before the clinking from the kitchen ceased, and your Aunt came back through, meticulously balancing a wooden tray with two large steaming mugs sat on top. Placing them down, she handed you the one covered in purple flowers. Thanking her, you instantly took a sip, letting the sweet honey and heated milk warm your insides as you watched your aunt take a seat in her own well-loved armchair.

“Sooo,” she began with a knowing grin whilst tossing you a crocheted blanket. “How’s America been so far for you?”

You scrunched your face in thought. “…Surprisingly not as bad as I thought. I think Great-Auntie Beatrice had influenced my opinion a bit too much growing up.”

Agnes rolled her eyes. “A bit?? That old woman has despised the country since that American lad up and left her back in the 1870’s.”

You snorted over your mug. “Well, she certainly has taught me to not raise my expectations about the place, but, I’ve got to say it has allowed me to be more impressed by what I see – especially the Appalachian mountains, they’ve definitely got a unique charm to them. Thank you, by the way, for letting me use your cabin up there.”

She waved you off. “Oh, it’s no problem, really. I would give you the place if the twins weren’t so keen on going up there.”

“Speaking of the twins, how are the three of you doing?” you asked.

Agnes let a weary smile cross her face. “We’re doing better, now anyways. The twins had some issues when starting school here – starting fresh at 16 in a completely different country certainly has its cons. It’s died down now, but in the first few months they were followed home by some kids who would taunt them for the way they spoke. Hell,” she laughed in disbelief. “they even had a teacher who thought they were Scottish for the first three weeks until I came in for a meeting about their grades and spent ten minutes explaining to her that not everyone in England speaks the same way as those pompous Londoners who squeal at the slightest bit of mud on their shoes.”

“What?!!” you guffawed, trying to stifle a laugh. “Please tell me they at least beat some of the kids up.”

“I wish.” Agnes sighed, sinking back in her chair. “But I don’t want anymore attention on them than they already have. Anything else and those kids will go looking for dirt on them and the last thing I want is for them to find out who their father is.”

You looked up at her in surprise. “You don’t??” you asked, perplexed.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Agnes said sternly. “I loved their father to the ends of the universe and back, but the two of them being mixed English-Japanese will garner the wrong type of attention here. God forbid, if it gets out their mum’s a pagan witch it’ll be the end of peace!” She vented, throwing her arms up in frustration.

You pondered her words for a moment. “But I thought New Orleans was considered a safer place for things like witchcraft? Isn’t voodoo a popular religion and practice here?”

“It is, but it’s still kept more on the down-low. When you have a religion originating from a place like Africa, white Christians can get reeeaallll iffy about it, and it’s no different here – I believe there’s laws in place against parts of the practice.” She explained. “But it doesn’t stop them from keeping their shops open. Our neighbour Neliah runs a gorgeous corner shop near the outskirts – I can’t and won’t practice voodoo, but I do treat myself with a visit whenever I need new herbs, I could literally fall asleep in there with the lovely way it smells.” You smiled at the way she seemed to get lost in thought, though she quickly snapped herself out of it. “But anyway! How’s my sister doing? How did Emmett react with the news?”

You startled slightly at the sudden change. “Yea, mum’s actually doing alright. Dad… took a while to get his head around what was going on, you know, when he found her Grimoire and spell books, and the fact that we’d been hiding it from him for years, but he’s surprisingly calmed down about it. They still go to church, to keep up their reputation and all that, but he’s letting her hang up protection wards around the house, he even got involved with casting a spell with us at one point, even though he had no clue what he was doing the whole time.” You snorted, memories of your father’s wide eyes as he watched your mother wave a stick of incense around him, reminding you of the time when you were around six, you had returned from the forest by your house, covered in mud and brandishing stick-swords, declaring yourself as the deer queen as you dragged a shedded antler you had found among the moss through the back door – the look on your father’s face when he walked in from work to see you tying pink ribbons along the muddy, moss-covered bone was priceless.

Agnes let out a chortle, before sipping at her drink, her expression shifting slightly to one of mild concern. “And uh, how did they react when you were – ah – found out?”

Right, the whole reason you were here in the first place. “Not the greatest.” You said dejectedly. “Mum was distraught when they said they were thinking of taking me away – calling them every name under the sun the second they said ‘asylum’. So when dad suggested coming here, she jumped at the chance, but was crying the whole drive to the docks. I gave them an itinerary of where I was going to be and when, and they’ve been using it to send me letters and gifts, but it’s been hard being fully alone for the first time in my life.” You sank into your chair, tears building in your eyes the longer you spoke.

Agnes looked you up and down, her eyes filled with sorrow for you. “Well,” she began softly, standing up to approach you with a gentle hand on your shoulder. “you're not alone anymore, so you can forget about those stupid government officials and your, uh,” she squinted her eyes in confusion. “what do they call it?”

“Over action of the mind.” You forced out with a huff. “They don’t have an official name for it, but me being fidgety and forgetful is enough for them to call me insane apparently.”

She held her hand out for you to take, which you did, allowing her to pull you up. She said your name sternly. “You are not insane. You’re the loveliest, most intelligent girl I know – especially considering the amount of books you’ve read in your 21 years.” You gave her a small smile as thanks. “Now, I’ve readied your bedroom for you. It’s a little bare, but you're staying a while so I’ve left it to be up to your imagination, and with how fast your mind goes a minute, I’m sure you’ll make it the most fantastical and extravagant room in New Orleans.” She explained as she helped you pick up your luggage, leading you through the hallway and up the stairs.

Walking down the main upper hallway, you followed her down a second one to the left, until you came to a stop on the first door on the left side. Lowering her voice to a whisper, Agnes gestured to the door on the left further down. “That’s the bathroom. I’ve moved the boys’ stuff out and given them the second one across the main hall so you can have it to yourself.” She then gestured to the two doors on the right side of the hall, with a sign hanging on each, though the candlelight was too dim to make out the words. “That’s their bedrooms, so I’m afraid you’ll have to prepare for some loud wake-up calls.” She said with an amused smile.

Opening the first door on the left, she led you into a spacey room, that was, as described, quite bare, with only a four-poster bed pushed into the top-right corner, a dark, polished set of drawers and matching wardrobe facing the bed on the opposite wall, along with a familiar -looking changing screen in the bottom left corner decorated with storks flying above a Japanese landscape – you recognised it as one of the wedding gifts your uncle had gifted your aunt sixteen years ago. In the top left corner by the large open window was a vanity with clawed feet, holding up a large, ornate oval mirror, a cushioned stool pushed under it. Next to it was another door that led to the balcony. Nearer to the bedroom door was a large roll top desk, covered in drawers, shelves and pigeon holes, though the only object present was a small typewriter tucked under one of the shelves.

Excitement filling you, you strode across the room to the bed, the feeling of the fluffy rug under your feet a welcoming sign. Placing your trunk and bag down as gracefully as you could, you spun around to face your aunt with a wide grin on your face. “This is amazing!” you gasped quietly, mindful of the two other sleeping residents. “You didn’t have to give me all this.”

“Of course I did!” Agnes exclaimed, walking over to give you another hug. “Did you forget your mother and I practically lived and raised you and the twins together until just a year ago? I’m treating the three of you as equals until the day I die.”

Looking down at her, you observed the slight wrinkles appearing under her eyes, and the dark rings accompanying them that hadn’t been there the last time you saw her back when she still lived in York. Sighing, you stepped back. “I know.” You agreed warmly. “And thank you, for everything you’ve done so far.”

She ruffled the top of your head, your long strands of hair still clumped together with rain water and the clips you had failed to pin it back with. “Anything for you. Now get some sleep, it’s past midnight and the boys will be giving you the earliest and loudest wake-up call once they figure out you’re here.”

You agreed, bidding your aunt goodnight before taking the candle she left for you over to the vanity, where you spent the next ten minutes trying your best to find every pin and clip in your damp hair, then tediously trying to brush it smooth enough to then twist into a loose braid. You also quickly took out your belongings that were wet, hanging them over the screen and the drying rack you had found in the wardrobe. Satisfied you collapsed onto the double bed, bouncing slightly on the plush mattress. Burying yourself under the covers, you blew the candle out, bathing the room in darkness, and using the rain outside as white noise, you slowly drifted off, mentally preparing yourself for the twins when they would come to wake you up.

Oh, and wake you up they did.

New Orleans, Louisiana, USA – Wednesday, 12th June, 1929.

You were barely able to pull your heavy eyelids apart when the door in the far corner swung open, the door handle hitting the wall with a resounding ‘BANG!’, followed by a very loud “BOYS!!”, echoing through the house.

That wasn’t the end of it though. You had barely begun to turn over at the sound of several pairs of heavy footsteps bounding across the wooden floorboards, when two very heavy weights crashed on top of you, causing your eyes to fly open as the wind was knocked out of you.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!?!” you screeched, flailing about as much as you could until your arms were free, reaching over the covers to shove at the two long figure sprawled across you.

Loud giggling filled your ears, and you looked over your duvet to find two familiar identical-looking faces, with matching cheshire grins, peering over at you mischievously from where they laid across your body. Groaning, you flopped back down, choosing instead to stare at the forest green drapes strung across the poster bed. Though it was soon replaced by two mops of loose, curly hair as they peeked over the edge at you, one dark brown-almost black, the other a pale blonde. You were thankful of their opposite hair colour, because the only way you would’ve been able to tell them apart otherwise would be with the different freckles and moles dotted across their pale faces.

“Mum said you came in looking like a soggy rat last night.” Teased Allie, reaching out to prod at your cheek with a snicker.

Your own hand shot out, shoving his blonde head away. “Did not.” You responded groggily, as you tried to shove his twin off the other side of you. “Now get your fat arses off of me.”

They gasped in mock offence, immediately plopping themselves back on top of you, both reaching to poke and prod at your face. “You said a bad word ~” Ollie chimed in a sing-song voice, kicking his legs behind him playfully as he tried to shove a finger in your ear. Slapping them both away, you prepared for another onslaught, until determined footsteps drew closer to your door, and the two of them froze as their mother walked in, a wooden spoon grasped in her hand.

“ODESSEY. ADAGIO. Get off of your cousin before I send you to school WITHOUT breakfast!” She hollered, a thunderous look on her face.

The two of them collectively groaned. “Muuuumm, don’t call us thaaaat.” Whined Ollie, as he took his sweet time slowly rolling over your whole body before sliding off the bed to stand next to his equally grumpy brother. You followed not long after, sitting up at the edge to watch the ordeal with a smug smile.

“Call you what?! Your real names?! Well then, you better get yourselves downstairs!” she exclaimed, pointing at the door with the wooden spoon.

Reluctantly, they complied, but that didn’t stop Allie from poking his tongue out as he disappeared through the doorway, narrowly missing a swing from his mother’s spoon. Facing your aunt, you finally noticed that she was already up and dressed for work, donning a cream blouse with a blue ribbon tied around the neck, along with a matching blue maxi pencil skirt that reached just above her ankles. Her hair was meticulously styled in an updo similar to the one you had yesterday, her chestnut brown hair twisted back in swirls that ended in a loose low bun, with some strands neatly framing her face. She approached you, the short heels of her shoes muffled by the rug.

“Morning! Breakfast is ready.” She explained with a smile that you returned. “Freshen yourself up and come meet us downstairs, ok?” You agreed, and she disappeared back downstairs.

Rummaging through you clothes that were now thankfully dry, you opted for a loose blouse, and a pair of wide-legged tweed trousers, taking them to the bathroom. Slipping a leather belt through the loops, you quickly wet your hair over the bath, scrubbing in some shampoo and conditioner before rinsing it out and rubbing a towel over the strands until it was no longer dripping. Happy with the light makeup you applied, you headed back downstairs, running a hand through the wet tangles until you reached the dining table.

“I see what mum meant by soggy rat.” You turned to see Allie smirking over the table as you sat down in front of a plate full of English breakfast.

“I’ll turn you into a soggy rat.” You muttered back, stuffing half a hash-brown into your mouth, whilst simultaneously trying not to sigh in relief after not eating for at least 24 hours.

“OoOoh shiver me timbers!” he mocked back, waving his hands in mock fright.

Ollie’s tall figure appeared as he walked over from the kitchen - bacon, eggs, hash-browns and baked beans piled excessively onto his plate. “Mum told us you were going to be staying in our cabin up in the mountains.” He said as he sat down. “Did you like the gift we left?” he said with a grin half lopsided by the food he was shoving in his mouth.

You glared up at them from your plate. “Yes. The excessive amount of fake cockroaches in the bathroom was a very welcomed surprise. Odessey.”

The grin on your cousin’s face fell into a pout at the use of his full name. Letting out a prolonged grunt, he returned to his breakfast.

“Besides,” you started. “It’s not like I’m the only one suffering here. Apparently you’re both Scottish now.”

The two of them let out a collective groan, slumping in their seats.

“It’s not our fault Miss Sammie has less intelligence than a hamster.” Whined Allie as he stabbed an egg with his fork. “She thought Japan was part of China the other day!”

You let out a sharp laugh. “I hope that doesn’t reflect on your learning, or your mum will end up with steam coming out her ears.” You snickered.

“Thankfully it doesn’t.” replied Ollie, rolling his grey eyes as he stuck a whole wad of bacon in his mouth, making sure to not get any grease on his uniform. “Otherwise we’d be begging mum to move us back to England.”

“Speaking of moving, how are you guys finding it here?” you asked, hoping the answers were positive.

“Meh, it’s been alright.” Said Allie with a shrug. “The alligators are cool, but apparently we’re not allowed to wrestle them, which is soooo boring.”

“And the summers are shit. Nothing but heatwaves.” Ollie added.

“Well that’s what you get when you’re used to living in the North-East of England, where one of the nearest land masses is Norway.” You pointed out. “Plus English summers can be unbelievably humid, so I’m not sure what you’re whining about.”

“Oho, just you wait until July hits, then you’ll eat your words.” He retorted. “Hurricane season can be a bitch, too.”

“Don’t remind me.” You groaned. “I barely experienced the tail-end of one last night and it almost killed me.”

The two cackled at you, much to your annoyance, but is was cut short at the sound of your name being called. Looking up, you watched as your aunt poked her head around the doorway, the handset of a rotary phone pressed between her ear and shoulder, beckoning you over with an eager look, before disappearing back into the hallway. Quickly, you got up, marching round the table. Turning the corner, you watched as she ended the call. “Yes, yes. Thank you so much Mr LeBlanc, I’ll call you back as soon as I can. Yes – buh-bye now. Bye.”

Placing the phone back on its metal cradle, she whirled around to face you, excitement prominent on her features. “Sooo, that was Mr LeBlanc on the phone…” she proclaimed, eyeing you with a growing smile.

All you could do was stare in confusion, silence filling the wood-panelled hallway. Agnes darted her wide eyes between you and the phone, clearly waiting in anticipation for your reaction, but you only knew two things about New Orleans: jazz, and that it had a river shaped slightly similar to the London Thames. So you continued to stare.

Seeing that you weren’t going to react, she let out a sigh. “Mr LeBlanc runs Héritage Amour Réparation D’Antiquités on Julia Street down near the Mississippi River, and he’s willing to take you on as an apprentice?” she said as if it was the most obvious thing on Earth.

You blinked. “Wait, you’ve been looking for apprenticeships for me??” You gawked. “Since when??? I don’t think I even mentioned that I would be looking for one in the letters I sent you.”

“Oh, you haven’t.” she assured. “Your mum told me in a letter about a month ago when you were up in New York, so I thought I would speed up the process by looking for one for you.”

You continued to gawk in silence.

“Careful,” smirked Allie from over your shoulder. “You’re gonna catch flies.”

You didn’t even turn to face him as you reached a hand back, ignoring his whine as you smushed it against his face, shoving him back into the dining room.

“You –” you pointed at yourself. “You got me an apprenticeship??” She nodded excitedly. “Jesus Christ Agnes. At this point I’m gonna be indebted to you for the rest of my life!”

She clasped her hands together, throwing her head back as she laughed. “It’s no problem, really. I just want you to get settled in as soon as possible. I told Mr LeBlanc that if you accepted, he’s welcome to come for tea on Friday to meet you, then, if he’s happy, we’ll go for a day out around the city centre, and maybe visit him in his shop during that time. Sound good?”

You blinked repeatedly, trying to wrap your head around what your aunt was saying. “I – uh, yea. That would be great, actually.”

“Great! I’ll give him a call back, and you’ll meet him on Friday.” She proclaimed, satisfied as she picked the phone back up, holding the headset to her ear whilst twisting the numbers into the dial.

Still in a small state of shock, you turned back towards the dining room, slowly making your way back to your seat. Plopping down, you were met with the smug smiles of the twins.

“Looks like you’re gonna have to splurge big time on mum’s birthday. Don’t ’cha think Allie?” said Ollie, turning to his brother with a shit-eating grin.

His brother returned his expression with equal enthusiasm. “Oh yea. I was thinking, perhaps a top of the range Gramophone? I heard they have the new model in down at that shop on Canal Street.” He turned to you. “What do ya think cousin? Ready to serve our mum for the rest of eternity?”

All you could do was flick egg at their foreheads.

——

Friday came running up on you before you even realised, and here you were helping your aunt prepare roasted duck and vegetables whilst simultaneously trying to keep the twins away from the desserts in the icebox – you figured the sneaky buggers knew exactly what creaky floorboards to avoid. When the doorbell rang, Agnes encouraged you to go answer it, so, putting on a smile, you opened the door to welcome in your guest.

Mr LeBlanc was a warm and chirpy type of man: 63 years old with white hair and a matching frizzy moustache and beard, dressed in a smart blue shirt and neatly ironed trousers and slacks. He was around 5’7 – around the average height for men at this time. Sticking his hand out, he gave you a wide smile, and feeling the welcoming aura ride off him in waves, you gladly grasped his outstretched hand with your own.

“Bonne soirée! I do hope I’ve got the right address!” he laughed, his accent a funny mix between French and southern American. You assured that he was at the right place, introducing yourself. “Oh, what a lovely name! I am Ralph LeBlanc, but I’m sure your aunt has already informed you of me.” He said expectantly, voice slightly croaky and hoarse from old age.

Giving him a smile and a nod, you invited him in, bringing him to the dining room where your aunt and cousins were just finishing the preparations for dinner, and you all sat down, tucking into the delicious meal.

The dinner was successful, Ralph happily agreeing to take you on as an apprentice whilst also assisting him with running the repair shop, as he was currently the only one managing it. You had informed him of your history degree, and your school awards in art, and after that he was very eager to agree, almost acting excited when he invited you to come to the shop next Monday for a ‘starter shift’ where he would show you the ropes and make sure you were settled. It was as if the gods switched up on your luck, turning it round from the horrific start you had arriving here, and you weren’t planning on losing this good streak anytime soon.

“Now,” said Mr LeBlanc as he stood putting his coat on by the front door. “Make sure you are wearing something comfy and flexible, preferably pants if you own any, as we don’t want any skirts getting trapped in anything.” You nodded, and he paused for a moment, looking up at you. “Odd question, but how tall are you and your cousins? I don’t think I’ve met many with your heights, especially a woman.”

You glanced at your feet, now conscious of the way you towered over him slightly. “Last time I checked I was 5’9, and the twins are 6 foot. I uh, got it from my dad – he’s 6’1, and they got it from theirs.”

His eyes widened as he puffed his cheeks out. “La vache that’s tall. And did you say the boys were only 16? Wow, I really ain’t trying to make this sound weird but those magazine people would snatch you three up if they knew you were here.”

You laughed shaking your head, albeit nervously at the thought of having your picture taken. Thanking him, you waved him out and said your goodbyes.

Closing the door, you let out a relieved sigh, grateful that the evening was successful, and you retreated back to your room for the evening.

Thought it didn’t stop your excitement for the Monday to come.

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

I hope you've enjoyed it so far! The ending’s a bit rushed, and Alastor's not going to appear for a couple chapters, but I hope I can make the wait worth it. See you soon for Chapter 2!!

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choke-me-joey · 2 years ago

Text

Eddie Munson x fem metalhead cheerleader

Summary: Based on this - how Eddie met his not so typical cheerleader girlfriend and a little exploration of their relationship.

Content warning: 18+ content minors DNI, smoking, underage drinking, drug use, swearing, flirting, smut.

AN: there is a scene in this based on a ✨️video✨️ i had sent to me by a beautiful anon and I haven't been able to stop thinking about it. If you want the link you can find it on my page or message me and I'll try to send it!

📢 TAG LIST IS NOW FULL 📢

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 5

Chapter 4

The following Tuesday, after practice and your homework, you'd driven over to The Hideout to see the famous Corroded Coffin play to their crowd of regular drunks. You parked your car in the lot, getting out and straightening out your cropped Iron Maiden shirt. You'd paired it with some shorts and fishnets, as well as your Docs and your jacket which, courtesy of Eddie, now had a WASP pin resting proudly on the lapel.

You made your way into the, quite honestly, dump of a bar, impressed that you didn't even need a fake ID to get in. You grinned when you saw Corroded Coffin setting up on the small stage and made a beeline for your friends and your....Eddie.

"What's up, rockstars?" You smile, giving Eddie a cheeky pinch to the butt as he was bent over with his back to you sorting out his peddle. He angled his head to look at you, and nearly keeled over at the sight of your outfit. He recovered, standing up to hug you.

"Now this just isn't fair, sweetheart, gonna be playing our set with a fucking boner," he groans into you ear, making you giggle. He subtly kissed your head.

"Holy shit you actually came!" Gareth said, grinning at you from behind his drum kit. "Eddie said you might not make it because of practice."

"Like I'd miss the infamous Corroded Coffin live in concert," you gesture to the homemade banner behind them. "I'm excited!"

"You're probably the only one in the audience who is," Jeff laughs, glancing over the few people who had come to the bar to watch them play.

"Well, just remember who your biggest fan was in the early days, yeah?"

"Of course, sweetheart," Eddie winks at you and you have to wrestle down the urge to kiss him, not knowing how he felt about your...whatever this was between you being made super public yet. You instead settle on shooting him a wink and going to get yourself a drink whilst they finished setting up, patiently waiting for their set to start.

You were surprised when the bartender handed you a beer, apparently Eddie had sorted you with a drink before you'd gotten there, and again that meant nobody was checking your ID. You said nothing, taking your beer and sitting at a table close to the stage where you had a good view and Eddie could definitely see you.

The band start their set and you're completely blown away. Not only are they actually pretty damn good, the way Eddie carries himself on stage is incredible. He's confident, charismatic, nothing new there, but he eludes this sexy rockstar attitude that makes your pussy clench as you watch him. He plays with an energy that should be for 80,000 people not just 0.01% of that.

You watch his skilled fingers running up and down the frets, effortlessly playing chords without even glancing down. And when he sang, god your heart skipped a beat. His voice was the perfect mix of soft melodic singing and raw yells and shouts. They played a mix of covers and their own songs, their musical influences clear in those original pieces. Your favourite so far had been their rendition of Paranoid by Black Sabbath, and a song called Shallow Grave of their own. You had screamed and shouted and applauded, probably too enthusiastically really, but you didn't care. They were good, and Eddie was hot.

As the notes of another original song, Strangers in the Dark, came to an end, Eddie spoke into the microphone.

"We're going to change things up a little bit now folks, with a new cover dedicated to a very special person who happens to be our number one fan. This one's for you, airhead." He shot you a smirk and you grinned back at him, your cheeks flushing. "Sing along if you know it, maybe even dance a little if you're drunk enough."

The opening notes of Edge of Seventeen by Stevie Nicks, but with a Corroded Coffin touch, began to play and your jaw dropped. You fucking loved this song, and your mind and heart race when you remember you had told Eddie that, probably about 3 weeks ago when you'd first started speaking properly, only mentioned it briefly when he'd seen the tape of Bella Donna sticking out of your bag.

He'd...learnt this, for you? Made his band learn this for you without even knowing if you'd ever come to one of his shows?

It's a good thing you were sat down because your knees felt stupidly weak.

"Just like the white wing dove, sings a song sounds like she's singing, ooh, ooh, ooh," Eddie croons; his voice could have brought tears to your eyes. He wasn't playing guitar for this, cupping the mic in his hands in a way that should have been illegal.

You sit in your seat, singing along, watching as a few drunks get up to dance, mostly middle aged women who look as if Stevie Nicks is their lord and saviour.

"Come on honey, your boyfriend is singing this for you! You gotta dance!" One of the Stevie-ites grabs your hand and tries to pull you up to dance.

"Oh, I cant-" you start, feeling a little embarassed. Ridiculous really, seeing as you were in front of two entire high schools nearly every week dancing and cartwheeling and splitting. Why the fuck was dancing in front of Eddie making you shy?!

You catch Eddie's eye as you're dragged onto the small dance area in front of the stage, the woman lets go of your hand to do her own Stevie style twirl, and you laugh, doing the same when she encourages you to do so. You glance up at Eddie and he grins back at you, still singing away as he pulls you up onto the small stage, twirling you around. You stay next to him, wrapped in his arms as the band finishes the song. When the last note plays, Eddie grabs you and you kisses you hard on the lips and you wrap your arms around his neck, the small crowd whooping and cat calling as you break apart, both of you panting and grinning like fools.

"You're amazing," Eddie says breathlessly, looking into your eyes.

"Me?! I'm not the one who just turned Stevie Nicks into a bad ass metal anthem! You gotta record that, you...you're incredible!" You pant, your face starting to hurt with how much you're smiling. You run one finger down his chest whilst looking up at him through your lashes. "How much longer is the set, rock star?"

Eddie swallows hard.

"Uh, th-three songs."

"Perfect, I'll be waiting by your van when you've packed up." You shoot him a sexy smirk, pecking his lips once more and hopping off the stage to watch the rest of the set.

True to your words you were waiting, leant up against the side of Eddie's van as he finished loading up his equipment.

"So, I've been thinking, that bed you've got in there?" You gesture to the back of the van. "Super fucking comfortable, perfect for laying down after a successful show, don't you think?"

"While every fibre of my being is going to hate me for saying this, Y/N-"

"Who said anything about sex?" You cut him off and he looks at you, confusion etched on his face. "Just wanna show you how appreciative I am that you learned a song for me, very cute by the way."

"Well, I have been known to be pretty cute," Eddie grins, letting you pull him into the back of the van, kicking the door shut. He grunts, letting out a breathless laugh as you push him onto his back and straddle him, pushing his shirt up his stomach. "Hey, you know you don't have to do anything you don't want to, right?"

"What about if I want to?" You smile, rocking your hips experimentally against him. Eddie groans, fingers biting into your hips. You lean down and kiss him, tongue immediately finding his. Eddie's hands travel from your hips to your ass, squeezing it softly at first, then harder as your kisses grows deeper and more desperate. You pull away from the kiss, sitting back on your heels and your hands hover over his belt buckle. "Can I?"

"Yeah, yes, shit, you can do anything you want to me right now, sweetheart." Eddie groans as you undo his belt, your hand ghosting over the bulge in his jeans. Once his jeans are also undone, he helps you by lifting his hips so you can pull his jeans and boxers down to his mid thigh. You can't help the gasp that leaves your mouth as his cock springs free, slapping his lower stomach.

"Holy...what the fuck, Eddie?!" You laugh, unable to process what you're seeing. He's big. And not just big, but thick too. Uncut, with a delicious thick vein running along the underside of his cock. His balls are - is it weird to say perfect?- big and round and your mouth salivates at the sight. Would you even be able to wrap your hand around him? Swallow him down? Would your cunt stretch enough to accommodate him? Your brain buzzed with arousal.

"Not really something I go around showing off," Eddie chuckles, hissing as you attempt to wrap your hand around him, slowly stroking him. You pull back his foreskin to expose the head of his cock, the same beautiful shade of reddy purple as his lips, and you watch in fascination as a small bead of precum blurts out and over your fingers. "Shit, Y/N, your hand feels so fucking good."

"I haven't even done anything yet," you giggle, moving a tiny bit faster, your other hand gently cupping his balls. You make sure he's looking at you before you let a glob of spit fall from your mouth onto the head of his cock, using it to lube his shaft for your hand to glide easier along it. Eddie fucking whimpers, whimpers, at that, his head dropping back onto the pillow beneath him.

"Fuck, babe, you're fucking...you're a dream."

"A wet one, I hope?"

"You're...everything. God the amount of times I've thought about this, about you...Jesus, how are you fucking real?" Eddie sighs as you work your hand over his cock faster, the mix of your spit and his precum making it easier. "Can I...fuck, can you take your shirt off? And...and put my jacket on?"

He prayed silently that you'd agree, it was all he'd been able to think about for about 3 weeks. You smile, nodding, taking off your shirt. Eddie almost blows his load there and then. Not only were you braless, but you also had your fucking nipples pierced, the two silver bars winking at him in the dim lights streaming in from the car park. You send him a knowing smirk briefly letting go of his cock to grab his previously discarded jacket and slip your arms into it, the leather cool and somewhat a little sticky against your damp skin.

"How do I look?" Your voice is low and sultry, laced with arousal. The throb between your legs is almost unbearable now, and you grind your crotch against his leg for some relief.

"Like every wet dream I've had since I was 13," Eddie groans as you spit on his cock again. "Shit, never thought you'd be so..."

"So what?" You challenge with a smirk, one eyebrow cocked as you continue to jerk him off.

"Jesus, so fucking...filthy." Eddie gasps as you run your other thumb over the slit of his cock, gathering some precum on the digit and sucking it into your mouth. You exaggerate a moan, this was purely for him right now but he did taste really fucking good. "Shit, gonna cum soon, don't stop baby."

"Not going to Eds, want you to make a mess all over me." You push the jacket off of your tits so he can clearly see them. Your free hand pinches one of your nipples, making you moan and grind down onto him again, a whimper leaving your mouth.

"Jesus fuck!" Eddie grunts, his cock twitching in your hand as he cums, streaking your tits, stomach and a little bit of his own jacket with thick white ropes. You stroke him through it, letting go of his thick cock when he starts to hiss in discomfort. "Fuck, princess, easy, easy," he lets a breathless laugh as you scoop up some of his cum off your tits with your finger, popping it into your mouth and sucking it off. "Jesus H Christ."

"I prefer Y/N." You grin, letting out a squeal as Eddie pins you down onto the floor of the van, kissing you hard. His hand wanders to the button of your shorts. "Hey, don't worry about me, handsome. This was all for you."

"You sure? I want to." Eddie's eyes flick to yours and you smile.

"I know, and believe me I really want you to but I have to get home, school night and all that." You sigh and Eddie groans, dropping his head to your shoulder. "My fingers will just have to do tonight."

Eddie groans even louder.

"Shit, Y/N, that isn't fair."

"Relax, Eds, my parents are away this weekend, so I'll have that big, empty house all to myself. You wanna come over and protect poor little old me?" You put on a fake pout. Eddie smirks.

"And by protect you mean-"

"Fuck my brains out until I can't fucking walk and make me scream so loud the neighbours will know your name? Yeah, that's what I meant." You giggle, pecking his lips softly.

"Oh, I'll be there baby, I'll protect you so hard, don't you worry."

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#iswaw #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson x reader #eddie smut #eddie munson #eddie munson smut #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson comfort #eddie munson fan fiction #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson x fem!reader #eddie munson x female reader #stranger things eddie munson #eddie munson x you #stranger things smut

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semyla · 5 months ago

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Birthday disaster

Tw: No romance 👎 face rashes, skin problem.

Summary: You work for Crocodile in Cross Guild, and it was your birthday, sadly you didn’t get to enjoy it because of certain clown with a red nose had pulled a nasty prank on you.

You woke up early, more early than usual actually. It was your birthday and you had everything ready to show that you were celebrating it. It made you feel good the breakfast you got that morning.

Everyone around you had wished you a happy birthday, even your boss Sir Crocodile said happy birthday, not directly, but in his own way giving you the afternoon free from work if you finish early and leaving you to go out and do whatever you want. It made you very happy, and more the gift that Buggy left you, a face cream you used that day.

Buggy, was like an annoying little brother to you. Rarely when you weren’t at work you would spend time with him, sometimes he would prank you.

This time he has gone very far with them.

That face cream was going to turn your face red, just like if you had painted over it. Buggy was giggling to his idea, it was the best birthday prank he could have give you. Later on he was going to give you a cake, probably smash it on your face on it, who knows, he just anticipated for that reaction of yours.

As the hours had gone by, you did your best to focus on your paperwork in hopes to finish early, excited on to what you could do in your special day, maybe go to a spa or go eat your favorite food or maybe buy the things you have been eyeing on, since you been saving a lot of spending money for today. Okey, you need to stop and focus on your work, otherwise you will never finish. You thought to yourself.

You look in the mirror and then you scream, making your boss almost drop his cigar. You furiously ran out of your shared office, leaving a Crocodile confuse of what must have happened. He was definitely going to yell at you for doing that.

“BUGGY!!!” You scream furiously approaching his room, making him fall off and hide.

“BUGGY!!! IM GOING TO KILL YOU!!!” You screamed furiously.

“BUGGY ANSWER ME!!!” You said spinning around the room searching for him, the rage and itchiness had you blind.

“BUGGY! YOU EAT SHITTING CLOWN WHERE ARE YOU!!” You scream again, and scratch your neck.

He saw your face and was mortified when he saw the skin rashes growing on your face. As you scratch your neck in desperation looking around for him.

“DAMN YOU CLOWN!!! I WILLL MUDER YOU!!!” You screaming left the room, in search for him.

Buggy was horrified and mortified, now he was in deep shit.

Buggy ran out of the room, in opposite direction from you in hope not to encounter you. It’s been minutes now in the hallways he encouters Galdino.

“Galdino have you seen Crocodile’s assisatan?!” Buggy asked scare and desperate.

“I just know they came out screaming from Crocodile’s office, they had rashes all over their face” Galdino responded.

“Face rashes?!” Buggy repeated shocked, even when he saw it with his own eyes he still couldn’t believe the rashes you had.

“Rashes or some type of acne. I don’t know, but they look horrible” Galdino responded.

Buggy’s face drop and then worries for what will happen to him start rising now.

“What’s the matter? Did you have to do something with it?” Galdino asked him, smirking already knowing the answer.

“I don’t know what went wrong they were suppose to turn red like face paint the scream was suppose to be a small birthdays prank, were they furious?” Buggy jaw had dropped and went back right at his face as he talked scare for his life.

“Furious? Furious is very little” Galdino said.

“They going to send me to the after life, im going to die!” Buggy whine in terror.

“Have you dig your grave yet?” Galdino asked touching his nose making a honk noise.

“Noo!” Buggy slap his hand away.

Buggy heard your screaming voice and went on running out, making Galdino crack a laugh.

Sadly, when you went to find Galdino on the hallway Buggy was long gone, Galdino not giving you too many details of where he went and giving you nasty looks. It’s been hours and your face itches now, you had to pull bold moves.

You entered the Mihawk’s room he was having tea with Perona when they both turn to look at you shocked, at least Mihawk kept his shock hidden.

“Where is that imbecile you two call ‘partner’!?!?” You said entering furiously.

Mihawk and Perona looked at you, both still in shock.

“What happen?” Mihawk asked calmly, putting his tea down after he gave a sip.

“He gifted me a face cream for my birthday and I used it this mornig” You responded.

“Gross… Happy birthday” Perona said, looking at you, gross out and shocked with her hands on her face.

“What could have gone wrong?” Perona asked.

“Why would have this gone right?! Where was my head at for trusting that stupid clown!” You said hysterically.

“That’s not suppose to happen with face creams“ Perona said standing up.

“Well then it happen!” You responded back desperate.

“I could try to help you, it seems to get very bad though” Perona said standing up and flying up to you.

“Then move! I can’t have my face to look like this! it’s itching my whole face and it’s going to my neck!” You said desperately scratching.

Perona was about to rushed out until Buggy burst in.

“MIHAWCK YOU HAVE TO-“ Buggy looks around all of you three.

You stop scratching and you look at Buggy furious.“MIHAWK! PLEASE HELP ME!” Buggy yelled entering the room.

“CROCODILE’S ASSISTANT IS AFTER… me..” He stop after he saw you, Perona and Mihawk and started screaming after you started running towards him at full speed.

“That smells very good, I need to get a spoon of that” Alvina said, looking around for a spoon after smelling the food one of the chef was cooking up, Mr. 1 had gone inside looking for something to drink.

Alvina scream at the sight of a bodiless hand giving her a spoon, alerting Mr. 1.

“SHHH!” A voice said, the a hand opened a cabinet showing Buggy’s head inside.a cabinet.

“What are you doing!?” Alvina asked Buggy.

Buggy’s body part had jump out of the kitchen cabinet and had come together to make him whole.

“They have their face full of rashes and they want to kill me! Haave you seen their face?” Buggy said, Alvina was confuse, but Mr. 1 had already know what had happened. Buggy said.

“Yes, I have, I dont want to say horrible, but they look very bad” Mr. 1 said in a calm manner.

“You don’t even have to mention it!” Buggy yelled.

“What?” Alvina asked, looking at Daz.

“I’ll explain it to you later” Mr. 1 responded, looking back at her.

“The cream was supposed to be a prank! The cream was supposed to be a prank to turn their face red like facepaint no full of rashes!”

“I can imagine what kind of stupidity you pulled on them, thankfully not me” Alvida said touching her face, imagining what he could have done to your face.

“I dont know what happen! Maybe they used the cream wrong or mixed it! or something! Pleasee the gods from above on the sky protect me!” Buggy begged.

“Hell no! You can protect yourself outside!” Alvina yelled.

“But where am I suppose to go?!” Buggy asked.

“Outside! Go! Now!” Alvida yelled ready to kick him out, but Buggy bails.

Alvina looks back to Mr. 1, she chuckles a little and he shakes his head on how crazy the situation was. The den den moshi shows up it was a call from Crocodile to Mr. 1.

“Daz, where did my asistant ran off to?” Crocodile

“Last time I saw them they were in Mihawk’s office, after that they were running after Buggy” Daz Bones responded.

Of course that clown can never be out of trouble, Crocodile thought to himself. I got no time to be fooling around, bring them to me” Croccodile said and Mr. 1 hanged up, now he was in search of you.

“Bring me that clown and my assistance at once” Crocodile said before hanging up.

After Crocodile put the den-den moshi down, Mihawk and Perona came in, Perona holding skin products.

“Mihawk, Perona” Crocodile said acknowledging they presence in his office.

“Do you have any knowledge of what is going on between your assistant and that clown?” Mihawk said, making Crocodile sight and light up a cigar.

“I can’t be dealing with this” Crocodile said, exhaling the smoke from his mouth.

There was silence for a moment, before a loud screaming and yelling was heard, Daz now had join the situation, calmly preventing you from sending Buggy to meet his own creator and a filed of flower.

You grab Buggy by his hair while you walked At Crocodile’s office everyone had gathered around, tracking you and Buggy to solve the issues that was going on.

“I don’t hire you to scream and shout or to be fooling around with clowns” Crocodile said to you, after you ran off like that.

“Im very sorry sir, it will never happen again, I promise” You said apologetic.

“And you..” Crocodile turned to a very beat up Buggy. “How many times I told you to leave my assistant alone with those stupid pranks?”

“I’m very sorry, I won’t pull anymore pranks anymore” Buggy whine as his body kneel on the floor and his head being on Crocodile’s desk.

Crocodile grabs Buggy’s hair and tosses his head back to his beaten up body. While Perona use face products to heal the rashes on your face.

“I don’t even know how to thank you enough, Perona. You are a live savior, you are even doing so much for the cross guild, unlike certain clown”

“No problem! Although you should go follow a skin care routine more often, or go to a spa, we can go to-“ Perona interrupted by you.

“Okey, I get it, it’s bad. How long will it heal?” You asked.

“A month” Perona crossing her arms, not liking about you interrupted her.

“A month!?!” You said, you just wanted to kill yourself right there and there.

“A month! So, don’t go around without any facial cream or skin route!” Perona pouted.

“Im going to kill myself, and before doing so, im going to drag you to hell with me, Buggy!” You said passive aggressively, turning to look at Buggy.

“How is this my fault?! How was I supposed to know the prank was going to go this wrong!” Buggy said getting up in your face.

“Are you for real? Are you seriously asking-“ You said painfully grabbing his nose.

“Quiet, you two. As a matter for right now, I need you both to stop fooling around and get back to work, you are falling behind and you need to get us more money, without surpassing the budget” Crocodile said, ordering both of you to get back to work.

“Yes sir” Buggy and you said in Unison.

That day you lost your free day because of what happened, not only that you were exhausted, thankfully you had done some work done you ran off to kill Buggy. After you finished, Buggy had came up to you later that day, he apologize and brought you a cupcake that you threw at his face, making you both even.

#no romance #one piece x reader #cross guild #buggy x reader #mihawk x reader #crocodile x reader #perona x reader #mr. 1 x reader #alvida x reader

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theshireisburning-so-mordoritis · 11 months ago

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Tell Me You Think About Me Too (teaser)

When Steven leaves you in the hotel room to tend to your wounds after a mission whilst he fetches food, the last thing he expects to hear when he returns is the sound of his name coming from the shower. [Steven Grant x F!Reader (hints of Marc Spector x F!Reader) - Friends to lovers, mutual pining, two idiots in love and Marc is so very tired of their shit.]

He was rambling. Stammering on his words like his tongue was too thick for his mouth, choking on the billows of steam he was breathing in as his face flushed with the sickening kind of heat that came with pure mortification and good fucking god, what the hell was he doing still standing there?

"I’m sorry,” he continued, rooted in place despite every fibre of his being telling him to bolt. It burst out of him almost, jumbled and tumbling, all frantic to make you understand.

“My name- I heard you say my name and I thought… it sounded like you were hurt and I know you like to handle your injuries alone but it sounded bad and I thought you could be bleeding out or dying and I just couldn’t–”

You were wrapping gentle fingers around his wrists before he could talk himself breathless, into an early grave with the way his pulse was hammering beneath flushed skin. Your voice fell even softer, barely rising over the sound of the water that was still pelting against the tiles, as you told him, “Steven, calm down. Look at me, it’s okay.”

He wanted to resist, unwilling to face the weight of your disappointment, the shame that would only double tenfold when that harsh glare of yours undoubtedly pinned him with it, but he found himself compelled by a featherlight touch at his jaw, the arc of cheek, sweeping the damp curls from his eyes just as they fluttered open.

Steven gulped as his stare settled on you.

You were closer than he'd expected you to be, now wrapped up in a thread-bare towel that hid only enough skin for you to be considered decent but had him sending a prayer of thanks for to any god that would listen anyway. He didn’t think he’d survive it otherwise, not with the way you were actually looking at him. Touching him.

He was already having trouble breathing properly, his stomach still flipping from the memory of you, your closeness to him now when your soft moans were still echoing around in his head.

Steven, Steven, Steven.

His heart had yet to return to its normal pace and as it stuttered and beat itself violently against the cage of his ribs, he wondered if it was possible to die from something like this. From the desire and longing trapped and blistering beneath his skin, a wicked hot thing that was trying to burn him from the inside out.

It certainly felt like he could.

Your expression grew anxious whilst you simply watched one another, gaze troubled and brow knit into a soft frown. Your lip drawn between your teeth in a way that made him have to swallow down the urge gently tug it free with his thumb, to soothe away the rawness with soft touches. An even softer kiss.

Gods, he was pathetic.

Even when he was expecting you to be angry at him, for that gentle calmness to drop any second to reveal disgust, he still couldn’t stop himself from thinking about touching you, kissing you. Loving on you. He wanted to shake himself, to rub away the ache in his chest that worsened as your lips parted and he braced himself for you to tell him you couldn’t be around him after this.

“It’s not you who should be apologising, Steven.” You told him instead, voice tinged with guilt, a hint of embarrassment. Nervous in a way he’d never seen before. And when your eyes dropped briefly to where your hands were still cradling his own you missed the way he blinked at you in stunned confusion.

“I shouldn’t have been doing that - thinking about you like that - definitely not when you could hear…shit- I’m so fucking sorry you heard it and saw what you did. I get it if you don’t feel comfortable around me and you need a break or something, fuck - is that something you would want? Do you want me to go?”

Steven didn’t even know what to say. His expression had morphed into something utterly dumbfounded. His brain screeching to a halt at your apology - your confession?

It was spinning around inside his skull like a carousel, all bright flashing light and the swelling tinkling of fairytale music. Because surely it couldn’t be real right? He’d not really heard what he thought he had, he’d not heard you admitting that you think about him.

Maybe he’d been knocked out during the fight and this was a dream? He almost found it easier to believe.

Except for the fact that in his dreams he didn’t have Marc’s voice in his head - seething with frustration. He wasn’t being yelled at to say something. Say anything. He wasn’t getting stressed out by the irate stream of demands mixing with his own rapidly firing thoughts until they all muddled into something that felt an awful lot like the oncoming of a migraine.

He wanted to snap at Marc to be quiet for just five bloody seconds but then he was raising his voice again - more worried this time - and it cut crystal clear through the rest of the noise. Sharp enough for Steven to finally understand what the other man had been desperately trying to snap his attention to.

"Jesus fucking christ Steven, she’s going to leave! She thinks you don’t want her - SAY SOMETHING.”

And Marc was right. You had drawn away from him, dropped your hands from his cheeks and tucked them into your sides, arms crossed over your chest like you were shielding the vulnerable parts of yourself you’d only just worked up the courage to expose. Curling into yourself in the face of what you perceived as rejection.

He watched in a throat-tight panic as you nodded solemnly and made to squeeze past him, reaching for the door that had swung back closed behind him from the force with which he had thrown it open.

It was the brush of you against him that startled him back to life - a smack of reality cracking across his bewildered face that told him you were about to walk out of that door, out of their shitty hotel room and straight out his life if he didn’t stop you.

Steven was whirling around before his mind could even register having told his legs to move. He caught at your wrist with a shaky hand , the touch of it feverish against your skin that had rapidly cooled once outside the heat of the shower - goosebumps rising beneath his fingertips despite the balmy air that swirled around them.

You turned, fingers still grazing the door handle, and looked at him, wide eyed and apprehensive, unwillingly hopeful, and it was enough to make the muscles in his throat unlock. Words bubbling up and past his lips before he could even consider if they were the right ones.

“Did you mean it?” He rasped. “ You think of me when you touch yourself?”

There was silence for a second, maybe two, and by the way you sucked in a breath - lips parting as you stared at him - he suspected the question had been the last thing you expected to be asked.

It was agony to stand there and wait and Steven tried his best not to let it show, tried not to breathe because every inhale was drenched in you.

The scent of your shampoo and your body wash and your breath fanning across his lips when he subconsciously leaned closer. The weight of his heart that wasn’t really his anymore, hadn’t been since he met you, sat on his tongue. Ready to topple along with the desperate plea he was fighting to keep clamped behind his teeth.

Please. Please tell me you think about me too - that you want me just as much as I want you.

And then, “I did,” you whispered, soft and hushed like you were worried if you spoke any louder it would ruin whatever was happening between you, “I do.”

#steven grant wip #steven grant #steven grant x reader #steven grant x you #steven grant fanfic #steven grant smut #steven grant imagine #moon knight fanfic #moon knight fanfiction #teaser

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ggomos-maribat · 1 year ago

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8 | in which Bruce is not the only aspiring Marinette-adopter

Part 8 of No Mr. Wayne You Can't Adopt Me! | Masterlist

"A visit to the Kent family farm?" Marinette echoed, "This sounds like a family event only. Are you sure I should be going?"

"I know it sounds like I'm pre-adopting you—"

"Yes, it absolutely sounds like that—"

"But Dick suggested for you to come instead of him since he won't be able to come," Bruce explained. "Besides, Lois specifically asked for you."

Lois, huh. Marinette felt an incoming headache already. On one hand, a part of her knew she should be declining it firmly but it would be terribly impolite to turn down the invitation as well. It was a problem indeed.

But if I go, I can just stick to the Kents and avoid the Waynes, right? She wondered. It's free food too and I won't need to work on a Friday.

One work week later, she ended up squeezed inside a van with Bruce behind the wheel, driving to Smallville. She had a basket of pastries at her feet, window to her left and Damian on her right. Everything seemed to be going fine when—

Screech!

The car suddenly halted and before Marinette knew it, Damian's arm was in front of her to keep her from face-planting on the back of the car seat.

"Sorry! There was a dog!" Bruce apologized from the front seat.

"If you were gonna drive this bad, you should've let me drive instead," Jason groaned from the passenger seat, rubbing his head.

"Yeah, Bruce, you should've told us if you were gonna send us to an early grave," Stephanie piped up from the back. "Damn it Cass, we have to redo the cracker tower."

When Marinette took a peek, she saw that the girls were trying to pile up some Ritz crackers on top of a sleeping Tim's forehead. Tim (lucky for him) was just snoring away the whole time.

Bruce threw his second son a look. "We both know you're going above the speed limit if you drive."

"I only speed when I'm on my bike!" Jason denied. "I can definitely drive better than you, old man."

Marinette figured these were the effects of not having Alfred around. The butler had to go to the farm ahead of them in the promise of helping the elder Kents prepare. But Marinette knew Alfred just secretly wanted to escape the family's chaos.

"Are you okay?" Damian whispered beside her. She nodded and smiled in reply.

In fact, Marinette was about to open her mouth to offer to drive but then she remembered her agreement with Bruce: on the trip, she wasn't supposed to act as an assistant but rather a family friend. She sighed inwardly in defeat.

"Father, if you're already too old to drive, I can take over the wheel as well," Damian said.

"I'm not too old to drive." Bruce rolled his eyes. "It's fine, I can handle this."

"Famous last words," Jason scoffed. "If Dickie were here he'd arrest you for reckless driving."

"I'm not recklessly driving!"

Marinette withheld a chuckle. Seeing someone causing trouble for Bruce other than herself was amusing. She stretched as much as the small space allowed her and whispered to Damian, "Can I rest my head on you?"

He stared at her for a moment. "Of course."

Grinning, Marinette leaned her head against his shoulder. Their arms were only slightly touching but she could feel his warmth. From her position, she could see Bruce squinting at them through the rearview mirror.

"Bruce, eyes on the road please," Duke warned.

Bruce huffed through his nose but focused on driving.

"Why can't Clark take us there instead?" Stephanie complained, "It'll be much faster."

An image was painted in Marinette's head: Superman carrying the van over the skies while Bruce sulked on the front seat.

"He's busy," Bruce replied, glancing towards Marinette (probably checking if she found the statement odd). "Don't you think I'm perfectly capable of taking us there safely?"

"Nope," Stephanie responded.

"Ditto," Cass said.

Stephanie snorted out a laugh. "I only agreed to go anyway 'cause Kara and Lois are there."

"Ditto."

"Hey if he gets any worse at driving, I'll call Alfred and tell him we got kidnapped," Jason suggested.

"No, you're not," Bruce sighed in exasperation.

"Twenty-one crackers!" Stephanie cheered suddenly. "Agghh, hold it there Cass, I'm taking a picture!"

Marinette's gaze strayed downwards. Our hands are really, really close. Their knuckles are just barely brushing. Sucking in a breath, she moved her fingers to touch the back of Damian's hand. To her surprise, his hand wrapped around hers with his thumb rubbing her knuckles.

The car swerved again.

"BRUCE!"

"That's it, I'm calling Alfred."

"Fuck! The crackers!"

". . . Wha . . . huh? What's happening?"

***

"Where is she?! Where's Marinette?"

One of the things Marinette dreaded. Seeing Lois Lane-Kent again. The woman practically squeezed past the other Kent boys to lock her in a suffocating hug the moment she stepped out of the van.

"Marinette!" Lois said, pulling away and squishing her cheeks together. "Jeez, recommend an assistant job to a girl and she never reaches out anymore!"

"I answer your calls sometimes," Marinette weakly protested.

"But no visits." Lois turned to Bruce with an accusatory glare. "Are you overworking the poor girl?!"

"No, no, I'm fine." Marinette gently pulled away from her hold while Bruce escaped to help the others prepare the picnic table. "It's a great job, honestly. The pay is very generous."

"You know Marinette, Lois?" Duke asked as he helped unload another box from the van.

"You haven't told them?" Lois looked at her, and Marinette responded with a sheepish look.

Lois smiled proudly, wrapping an affectionate arm around Marinette. "I had the absolute honor of interviewing this girl about the Paris akuma attacks. She was the civilian aide for the heroes!"

"Lois," Marinette groaned.

"We kept in touch, and I was the one who suggested she get a PA job at WE when she moved to Gotham." Lois patted the top of her head. "Hmph, on second thought I should've kept you as an assistant for myself."

"I told you, journalism isn't my expertise," said Marinette.

"You're a brilliant girl, you can learn! If you stay in Metropolis, you can even live with us!"

Marinette's eyes widened in horror. "No please, I've had enough of serial adopters."

"What? Oh, is Bruce trying to . . ." She scowled at the girl's boss again. "I knew it! I knew this would happen, agh I shouldn't have sent you to him!"

"Lois . . . no, you can't legally adopt me . . ."

The woman's eyes gleamed. "But illegally?"

"You were a civilian aide?" Damian asked, staring at Marinette.

"No big deal. I just worked behind the scenes to help defeat Hawkmoth." She kept a wary eye on Bruce. If he were to find out, he will combust for sure . . . and become more adamant on adopting her.

"Read my article, you'll see how amazing she is!" Lois boasted.

"Lois, please," Marinette sighed. "I'll go set these up at the table."

Fortunately, a savior by the name of Ma Kent called Lois back to the house so Marinette was able to shake her off. She was grateful for the journalist, really—recounting what happened to Paris was no easy feat and often other reporters liked to focus on the heroes and villain only, not the trauma or lasting damage on the city. Lois even helped her settle in, lecturing her on the dangers of Gotham despite not being its resident.

But Lois was . . . the second one who expressed the desire of adopting her before Bruce.

"Didn't know the Waynes had a new one," a new voice said.

"Kon!" Marinette put down the basket and reached up to hug the boy. "I didn't know you're here!"

"When I heard you were coming, I knew I couldn't miss this." Kon raised an eyebrow. "You're such a traitor, Mars, you're one of them now?"

"Of course not!" She huffed. "I wanted to skip out on work and, er, Lois wanted me to come."

Another familiar face approached the two. "Full offense, but you look like you're part of the Wayne family now."

Marinette lowered her tone to a whisper, leaning to give Jon a side hug. "Mr. Wayne wishes." She rolled her eyes. "But he can't, obviously."

A few feet away from them, Clark fell into a coughing fit. Oops, he heard that didn't he? Marinette's cheeks reddened.

She had been visiting Metropolis during her third meet up with Lois. At that time, she had the two boys join them for lunch, and that was when Marinette got to meet them. Both seemed just as energetic as the Wayne boys, by her observation, but in a different way.

Jon threw an arm around her shoulder. "Hey, is it just me or Damian looks extra broody?"

"Probably . . . jealous?" Kon looked at the boy.

"Jealous of what?" asked Jon. Slowly, his head turned towards Marinette, seemingly coming to a realization little by little. "What? No way."

"Maybe . . . yes way." Marinette brushed a hand over her bangs. "There was this, um, thing on our way here you see."

"What is it? What is it?"

Marinette rubbed her heated cheek. "I'll tell you later!"

Just then, Clark came to the table to set down some glasses and utensils. "It's nice seeing you again, Marinette. You haven't run into another Batman-related trouble I hope?"

"Batman-related trouble?" Jon repeated, directing a curious look towards her.

"Nope, not at all," Marinette chuckled. "In fact, he stalked me one night in an empty street just to apologize."

Clark's eyebrows raised. "He did?"

"You never told us that!" Kon chimed in.

"I know, it's a long story." Marinette grinned evilly. "But I think it's best told over lunch with everyone."

***

"Tea or coffee?" Marinette asked her guest, who was sitting at her humble dining table, hands folded together.

"Tea please, my dear. I do miss your personal brew—it's one of a kind."

Marinette rolled her eyes as she grabbed a teacup from the upper cabinets. "Flattery will get you nowhere."

The guest tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. "It's not flattery. It's only a comment."

Marinette prepared the tea diligently, and even brought out leftover banana bread she made for herself and her neighbors. From her periphery, she could see the woman looking over the photographs she had framed on the pastel walls. "There's too much of you who want to adopt me, you know," she said.

"Oh?"

"My boss and . . . Lois just the other day. I don't know if she was joking or not." Marinette scrunched her nose. "Seriously, legally none of you can adopt me."

"Who said I was going to do it by legal means?"

"Kwamis, don't say that, Talia. I think Bruce is an inch away from doing it under the table too."

With the tea and snacks prepared, Marinette put everything on a wooden tray she put together herself and brought it over to the table. If she anticipated Talia's visit, she would've cooked an entire meal. Alas, the woman popped up during the most unexpected hours.

"Your honey jar is very cute." Talia chuckled.

"Hmpf. It was a gift." A house-warming (or apartment-warming?) gift from Adrien: a custom transparent jar with a cat design painted on it. The top of the dipper's handle was carved out into a paw.

"How is Damian, by the way?"

"I thought you came here as a friend." Marinette crossed her arms. "It's not my job to keep tabs on your son."

"I know that, my dear, but he doesn't like seeing me . . ."

"Just talk to him." Marinette took a bite of her bread. "You know, the key to being emotionally constipated is to actually let it all out."

Marinette had met Talia al Ghul way before she met Bruce or any of the Waynes. She found out the woman's connection to them much later, however. After becoming guardian and losing Fu to amnesia, Talia had become somewhat of a mentor to her. Someone who taught her more about eccentric skills than magical knowledge and responsibility (the woman was crazy skilled in the most random things, it used to drive Marinette crazy). Since they'd parted aways after she graduated, Marinette saw her more like a troublesome aunt than a teacher.

"He has taken an interest in you, no?" The way her emerald eyes glittered spoke of her slyness.

"Taliaaa," Marinette groaned.

"What? It is very funny how fate brought you two together." She sighed wistfully. "I never saw it coming."

"Do you seriously want me to be with your son just so you can make me your daughter?"

"What's the problem? You like him too, right?"

"Talia!"

She shrugged. "'I'm just saying I'm not opposed to the relationship."

Marinette rubbed her face, hoping to ease off the heat on her cheeks. "I thought you're here to see how I'm doing, not badger me about my love life. You're starting to sound like my mom."

Talia's grin grew wide. "Your mom?"

"Wait, no—"

Talia set her chin on top of her locked hands. "Would you like a League-themed wedding, my dear? Have a little blood pact mixed in?"

"Damian and I aren't even marrying!"

"Yet," the woman added. "I can't wait to have you in the family. I've got the perfect heirlooms to pass on to you. A sword, if you'd like or even a kunai."

"Oh, come on—"

"You have my complete blessing Marinette," she cooed. "In fact, I'd rather have Damian be with no one else but you."

Marinette stood up so quickly, red in the face, and her chair scraped the floor. "I'm going to bed."

Talia reached over to grab her hand. "Leaving your guest all alone! Where are the manners I taught you?"

"I'd actually love to chat if you have something else to talk about," Marinette huffed.

"Alright, alright, sit down. I'll behave myself, I promise." The former mentor smiled. Marinette narrowed her eyes. She should've closed her window that night.

***

After a debate with herself, Marinette decided to voice out her request to Bruce at the time she served coffee and snacks in his office. She was setting down his mug on a coaster when she popped the question: "Mr. Wayne, can I have next Thursday off? I can work on Saturday to make up for it."

Bruce looked up from his screen. "Hm? What for?"

"I've finally decided to let Lois adopt me."

"What?" Marinette had never seen Bruce so panicked. She didn't know if she should laugh or feel sorry for it.

"I'm kidding." She transferred the snacks next from the rolling cart. "Some of my friends are visiting Gotham, but their only free day is on Thursday. I haven't seen them in a while so I really want to catch up."

Bruce slowly regained his composure, clearing his throat. "Right. Of course you can go, Marinette. No need for the extra hours."

". . . Are you sure you'll be fine without me?"

"Yes, we have no meetings scheduled that day, do we?" Bruce waved the thought off. "Enjoy the day off. You deserve it."

***

It was Chloe who got them the reservations for their dinner: an open air chabudai-style restaurant that served Japanese cuisine. The tables were low, comfy enough for them to sit cross-legged on cushions while still keeping elegance.

Marinette sipped on her drink and nudged Luka with her shoulder. "You never told us what you were in Gotham for."

The now world-renowned musician ran a hand through his hair. "Dad's having a tour around the U.S. He wanted to check the venue here since this is the last stop. Our band's opening."

Marinette sucked in a breath. "Congrats, Luka! I didn't know about that, Jagged hasn't put out a commission yet!"

"Planning's still in the works." Luka smiled. "I'm sure Penny will reach out soon."

Adrien groaned and stretched his arms. "I'm so fuullll." He fell on his back, positioning his head on Marinette's lap.

"I told you to lay off on the maki roll," Chloe tsked to which Adrien stuck out a tongue in reply.

Marinette ignored the bickering pair and turned to Kagami. "What about you, Kags? Have you met up with your new student yet?"

"What new student?" asked Adrien.

"You're not reading the group chat, are you?" Chloe scolded.

"It's alright, I only mentioned it in passing." Kagami poured more cups of beer for Luka and Chloe. "A former coach told me about a rising fencing prodigy in Gotham. I wanted to take a look for myself if I can mentor them. Unfortunately there was an emergency at the airport earlier so I'm meeting them tomorrow instead."

Marinette grimaced, distinctly remembering that some Rogues had broken into the airport in the morning.

"Prodigy or not, the kid's gonna be an international level pro if you're the coach, Gami," Adrien pointed out.

"Hm. You have too much faith in me."

"What about you, Maribug? How's work?" Chloe directed her inquisitive gaze at the girl.

"Just the same old." With a little bit of something going on with my boss' son. "My boss still wants to adopt me, everyday's busy, sometimes I get caught up in robberies and hostage situations for a little spice."

"M'lady?" Adrien suddenly said in a soft voice.

Marinette reached down to stroke his hair. "What's up?"

"I think I saw something move behind the trees over there."

Marinette squinted into the dark, past the lantern lights. Familiar . . . shadows moved around, cloaked by the darkness.

"Oh hell no," she whispered. "What the fuck? Those are the Gotham vigilantes."

Adrien's lips shaped into an 'o'. "Ohhh, I think . . . I think they're here because of me."

"What?"

"Well, the small business I asked to do the landscaping for our runway event is Pam and Harley’s," Adrien explained. "I talked to them earlier and they got worried since it's my first time here in Gotham. They offered a security detail even when I said I didn't need any!"

"And that . . . security detail are the vigilantes?" Chloe stared.

"Guess so. Hey, do you think we should offer them some food?" Adrien sat up and waved at the shadows. "Do you think they'll join us?"

"Adrien," Marinette groaned. "Anyone but them."

"What, why?"

***

Meanwhile . . .

"Rob, you've been staring at Marinette and that guy for a long time."

"I am not."

"Are you jealous? She said they're her friends right? They must be really close."

"Tt."

Taglist: @hammalammadamdam @animegirlweeb @fairlyfatale @agentxx92

#maribat fic #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat #dc x miraculous #NMWYCAM #PA!Marinette

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