#because is best bastard's birthday and I love my son way too much to ignore it | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

floralseokjin · 3 years

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⊶ final sleigh (m). ⊷

You took an (almost) immediate dislike to Seokjin during his first week at the office and six months later that distaste is not only still going strong, but also mutual. Working in sales, you view one another as competition, so what happens when you’re forced to organise the Christmas office party together? It’s a recipe for disaster, but one thing’s for sure, it doesn’t end the way you imagined it...

(Spoiler alert: you don’t wind up murdering him.)

pairing; kim seokjin x reader au/genre/warnings; workplace/office au, enemies/rivals to lovers, starts off as a holiday au but drabbles further develop the story, rom-com, hoseok, namjoon, jungkook and yoongi make appearances, smut; drunk grinding, drunk kissing, workplace (oral) sex, storeroom (oral) sex, oral sex (male & female receiving), fingering, dirty talk, jin has a big dick (obv) words; 23,363

continuing drabbles found here

Every year without fail you organised the office Christmas party at Jung&Co. As part of the office party committee it was of course a given. There were only two of you but as a workplace of just 12 that was ample enough. This year however, things were a little different, no matter how marginally. Joy was on maternity leave so you were now on your own this time around. Not that you minded. You could hold the fort no problem until she came back in January and you had to plan Creed, the quality assurance director’s birthday party.

Only Hoseok, your manager didn’t see it that simple. Insisted you needed an extra set of helping hands. Who? Was your first thought. No one had ever offered to help in the past three years and why would they start now? However, you were forgetting something… or should you say, someone. A new someone who you were sure had been transferred here to make your life a total misery. It was like someone up there had it in for you, and you couldn’t think of one explanation why. You were a good person; you donated to a cat shelter every month, you paid your taxes, you were always helpful and friendly, amazing at your job… The list went on. In fact, you were the best damn sales rep at this branch, high above the rest – Well… That was until he showed up.

“I’ll do it.” You heard Seokjin offer indifferently, as if he didn’t care a damn about the Christmas party. You knew he didn’t.

You swung around immediately, your chair squeaking against the wooden flooring with the force. You scoffed patronisingly. “Pfft. You?” You had never heard anything so unbelievable in your whole life.

Seokjin regarded you from where he sat in the back row. Hoseok had called a meeting this morning, needing to find a replacement for Joy as time was creeping up. it was a month until Christmas closure. The day the party was held, and he knew how much you liked to keep on top of things. You weren’t to be rushed.

“Yes. Me.” Of course he was smirking. “Why? Got a problem?”

Beside him, Jungkook the intern, looked between you both unsurely. No doubt the rest of your co-workers were too. This had become the norm now. They stayed silent every time you and he started squabbling. The past few months had been one big whirlwind of bickering and rivalry. Seokjin was your biggest competition. He was also the thorn in your side. Ever since he’d transferred branches from his hometown six months ago life in the office hadn’t been the same for you. It didn’t help that your desks were also situated next to one another. You had to sit opposite his annoying face 8 hours a day, five days a week. It was a living hell. And now you’d be forced to spend even more time with him? Over your dead body.

“No.” You folded your arms, still looking over at him from where you sat in the front. He wouldn’t win. You wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing he was successfully getting to you. “You want to organise the office Christmas party?”

Of course you were calling his bluff. He was 100% doing this to piss you off. You were certain.

He chuckled. “I don’t know why it’s so unbelievable.”

You scoffed, growing frustrated. “You’re a guy!”

He raised one of his eyebrows. “Excuse me? Is that sexism I detect?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Do I have to report you to Tim?”

Tim, the HR rep went to speak up, no doubt trying to pacify the situation, but already out of hand, you spoke over him, voice shrill. “Oh shut up, Seokjin.” Damn it, you’d bitten, hadn’t you? He was holding back his laughter. He knew what you meant. Your wording came out wrong, so you needed to correct yourself.

“I’m just saying, you don’t seem like a guy who loves to party plan in his spare time.”

He grinned widely, as smug as ever. “Well, I’m full of surprises, baby.”

Unimpressed you stared him down. “Do I need to report you to Tim for harassment?”

You weren’t paying attention to Tim this time around but no doubt he looked lost. He was an older, quiet man who seemed unsure what he was doing here most of the time. Seokjin didn’t help matters.

“For what?” He exclaimed. “Calling you baby? It’s a term of endearment.”

“Not from you it isn’t.”

Jungkook sniggered at that and you felt a little smug. Seokjin went to open his mouth, no doubt a clever comeback hot on his tongue, but Hoseok interrupted.

“Guys. Stop bickering or neither of you will be planning this party.”

You immediately spun around, facing the front. Seokjin wasn’t fucking this up for you. Although you didn’t think Hoseok would ever take that role away from you. He might have been your manager – and the CEO’s son – but you saw him as a friend. He never threw his authority around.

You crossed your arms as his attention fell to Seokjin, silently huffing. “Jin, please tell us why you nominated yourself.”

“Well,” he started his spiel, laying it on thick. You refused to look his way, even as everyone else in the conference room gave him their attention. “I love Christmas and I love organising things.” He made it sound so simple. Infuriating bastard. “I was always the person they counted on back home. I know how to throw a paaar-tayyyy!”

At his holler, he and Jungkook gave one another a high five, whooping at each other like a pair of idiots. It was impossible to think that Seokjin was the same age as you, a whole five years older than Jungkook. They obviously shared the same mental age.

“Well you’re not back home now.” You couldn’t help yourself, whipping around to tell him what was what. “I’m the one in charge here. I have the final say.” Sneering, you added, “You’d just be the help.”

Seokjin’s jaw twitched. You were irritating him now. You took great joy in that. “Hoseok said it was 50/50.”

“More like 75/25 where you’re concerned.”

“In my favour, yes.”

You felt your anger flare. “Hoseokkk,” you whined, turning your back to Seokjerk. “You can’t be serious letting him join the party planning committee?”

You knew he was doing it on purpose. He had no interest in helping you – he just wanted to annoy you, to take over.

Hoseok looked at you sympathetically. “Do you see anyone else offering to help, Y/N? Besides, it’s just for Christmas.” When you didn’t relent, he sighed. “You can’t do it all on your own.”

You held your arms tight across your chest, pouting like a big kid. “Watch me.”

“Impossible,” he chuckled softly. “You should be thanking Seokjin for being so helpful.”

Men. They were all traitors. Of course Hoseok would be in Seokjin’s favour, they once worked together back at the other branch just before Hoseok became manager here.

“Yeah, Y/N,” Seokjin called. You just knew he had that shit eating grin spread across his face, the one that plagued your nightmares – You could hear it in his tone. “You should be thanking me. But take your time, I know admitting defeat is hard for you.”

You breathed deeply through your nose, reminding yourself to stay calm, else he’d end up throttled by the time this party rolled around…

“Chop, chop!”

From your peripheral you could see Seokjin stood over you, clapping his hands, his crotch obscenely eye level. You pursed your mouth and continued typing up your report that needed to be in by today. You couldn’t bear to look at him, still mad from yesterday, and no doubt he just wanted to annoy you some more – his sole purpose it seemed. What a sad little life he lived.

“Y/N,” he prompted. You bit the inside of your cheek, exhaling through your nose. He wasn’t relenting, but lucky for you, lunch was in just over an hour. You could grin and bear him until then, surely?

“What?” You snapped, beginning to turn your head.

“We have our first meeting in five.”

You mouth grew dry as you made eye contact, but it wasn’t because of what he said, actually you barely had time to register it, his pearly whites pretty much dazzling you as he grinned.

You might have forgotten to mention a tiny detail about Seokjin, one you tried your best to forget, and tiny it was because it barely had an effect on you… Begrudgingly, you had to admit he was objectively handsome. Before you had taken that almost instantaneous dislike to him six months ago, you will confess that the first sighting of him had turned you a little weak at the knees. You were only human after all and you could appreciate a good looking face when you saw one. He even made Beryl and Michelle, who well into their sixties, giddy with a simple Good Morning – and he knew it. He knew how hot he was, which for you, just added to his overall lack of appeal.

However, sometimes he caught you off guard.

Like now.

You swallowed with some difficulty, willing saliva to coat the inside of your mouth, and ignoring the way the crisp white dress shirt hugged his waist, tucked into those very well fitting black pants of his (maybe too well fitting…), you let his words piece together.

“…Meeting?”

You furrowed your eyebrows slightly, what was he talking about? Hoseok hadn’t announced anything this morning. Was he just messing with you? You weren’t Jungkook. Those two might love playing pranks on one another, but you were actually mature in the workplace.

At the thought of Jungkook, you could hear him giggling up at the front of the office with the receptionist, Mina. How Hoseok hadn’t gathered they were sleeping together yet was beyond you. Actually, you were sure the rest of the office were slow to catch on too, but you maybe you had a clear (dis)advantage. You had to hear him and Seokjin discussing it more or less every single day – because men were dense and didn’t realise that no matter how low they spoke, a metre distance would not stop you from overhearing.

“Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten about the Christmas party already?” Seokjin continued to grin – and that’s when you realised it wasn’t of the friendly kind. It was of the provoking kind, because he wanted to piss you off. “I thought this was your area of expertise.”

You could feel your blood beginning to boil, your work forgotten on the screen. “You called a meeting without telling me?”

He shrugged. “What am I doing right now?” What, mere seconds before it started? You really were going to end up killing him one of these days. “I booked the conference room this morning.”

You grit your teeth together. “I organise the meetings.”

“Get a life.” He scoffed, judging you hard. “Besides, you’re a bit slow on the ball, aren’t you?”

“The party isn’t for another month.”

“Three weeks and 6 days actually,” he corrected. Then with a wink, he added, “I like being on top of things.”

You ignored his shitty (and inappropriate) innuendo with a roll of your eyes. “I was going to wait until Monday.” How dare he suggest you were unorganised.

With another lazy roll of his shoulders, he started to walk off, towards the small conference room situated in the office. “You snooze you lose.” Turning back casually, he pointed a finger to your desk. “Bring a notebook.”

Trying to laser through him with your best death glare you grabbed your notebook and stood up. He was treading on thin ice.

“This thing sounds dry as the Sahara,” Seokjin wailed loudly, hanging his head towards his (blank) notebook on the desk.

“Well you know where the door is,” you smiled. “I’m perfectly capable of organising this party on my own.”

Actually, if he didn’t like how you celebrated Christmas here, he could leave entirely. You wouldn’t miss him, and the others would surely get over it. You didn’t understand why they thought he was so amazing anyway. His sense of humour was grating to say the least – as well as his overall personality. He was nothing but a glorified salesman who walked the walk and talked the talk. You actually cared about your clients. All he cared about was numbers to help him boast, even if that meant stealing –

Never mind. That was in the past. You were the bigger person, you reminded yourself.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Seokjin scoffed, turning to look at you. He’d insisted you sat next to him even though you had been quite happy to sit at the furthest end of the table. “This place needs some Seokjin zest. Add a little flavour – a little spice.”

You dropped your head, muttering arrogant bastard under your breath as you picked up your pen to start brainstorming some ideas.

“What was that?” He asked, obviously hearing you.

You played dumb. “What was what?”

Thankfully, for the next ten minutes a very much welcomed silence fell over you as you both jotted down some ideas, although you were pretty sure Seokjin was just doodling at this point. Probably stickmen like the five year old he was. In between planning you threw a few texts your best friend’s way.

(12:14pm) You: Remind me why we tolerate men again? (12:15pm) Ana: For their dicks (12:15pm) Ana: But only if they’re pretty and they know how to use it (12:15pm) Ana: What’s up? (12:17pm) You: Guess who organised the first Christmas party meeting without telling me first 🙂 (12:18pm) Ana: Oh (12:19pm) You: Exactly (12:19pm) Ana: Dick cheese (12:20pm) Ana: Definitely not tolerable

You snorted at the mention of Seokjin’s nickname. Ana knew all about your very vocal disdain for the guy – in fact, she’d had to hear it all over again last night when you’d called her to complain about the very unfortunate turn in Christmas party planning events.

“Is that work or party related?”

Frustratingly, your obvious amusement had caught Dick cheese’s attention. “Shut up,” you muttered, but you did hide your phone from view, placing it screen down on the table. Hopefully he hadn’t caught a glimpse at anything dick and cheese related. He was definitely the type to report you to Tim for workplace bullying.

You turned to look at him, childishly taking great pleasure in the way a piece of his brown hair had bunched up on top of his head – probably from where’d he’d been itching, racking his pea-sized brain for ideas. He hadn’t noticed, and you weren’t going to point it out. He’d realise soon enough when he had to use the restroom – unless he didn’t wash his hands afterwards, which wouldn’t surprise you.

“We’re in a meeting, save texting your boyfriend for lunch.”

“I’m not texting – never mind.” You stopped yourself. There was no point biting. He wanted you to do that, knowing the insinuating tone he’d used would surely get you mad. As if you’d ever have a boyfriend, ha ha, very funny and original – NOT. He needed better jokes.

“If you were actually bringing something to the table I wouldn’t be bored enough to get distracted,” you shot instead.

He looked wholeheartedly offended. “I’m not the only one involved in this. You think of some ideas.”

“I have been.” You replied loudly. “It’s the same process every year, okay? Theme, food and Secret Santa. That’s all we need to organise.” You’d already been through this.

“So fucking boring,” he groaned slowly.

“You’re wrong.”

He snorted, visibly amused by your insistence. “And that Y/N, is why you are a square.”

“You don’t even know me!” You exclaimed.

“I know enough. I’ve sat opposite you for the past six months.”

“Yeah, and don’t I know it,” you muttered. You had not known peace since.

He laughed then, surprising you enough to make you jump a little. “Babe, are you ever going to forgive me for Rosal & Steinar?”

You glared at him. How dare he bring that up. It was a very sensitive topic, one you wanted to forget about because each time it popped up inside your brain you wanted to kick him – aggressively and relentlessly.

Seokjin’s first week here had not been good for you. First, he had made you weak at the knees by just casually existing, then, Hoseok had introduced him as Jung&Co.’s best salesperson, and lastly, after being struck down with a terrible cold, you’d been sent home from work on the morning of your biggest client’s renewal day. Hoseok had insisted that you couldn’t sell stationary without a voice. You had claimed you could, but it wasn’t good enough. You were sick and needed to go before you infected anyone else.

The following Monday, still snorting sinus spray like it was cocaine, you’d arrived at work to find out that Rosal & Steinar had renewed their contract… with Seokjin. Life couldn’t have been going anymore wrong. In the past month you’d had to deal with the guilt of breaking off a two year relationship, acquiring a new competition in your place of work that had ultimately already lost you your best client, and you’d gotten sick for the first time in four years.

You blamed Seokjin. He’d been sent to curse you. (Although, admittedly the breakup had happened before you’d known of his existence… Not that it mattered.)

That’s why it was now your life’s goal to become Jung&Co.’s best salesperson, because Hoseok’s opinion didn’t mean shit, and one way or another you were going to take down Seokjin.

So yeah, no matter how much you insisted that the past was in the past, it obviously wasn’t.

You raised an eyebrow, choosing to ignore his question. “What did I say about reporting you?” You weren’t his babe. Or baby. Or whatever else he liked to use.

“Sorry,” he apologised, rather genuinely at that, which was surprising. “It was a slip of the tongue.”

You let out a short sigh. “Let’s just get on with this. There’s half an hour until lunch and I need to leave on time to meet my friend.” Neither of you had thought of anything solid yet.

“Is that who you were messaging?”

Seokjin seemed curious – interested? You couldn’t think of the correct word. Either way he was getting too friendly and pushing boundaries you’d rather not have him cross. “Is that any of your business?”

He shrugged, unaffected, and got back down to business. “Why can’t we just rent out a venue? Nothing is fun without any booze.”

“We don’t do that anymore,” you answered.

“How come?”

You inwardly groaned. You didn’t really want to get into it, this meeting had already been a complete and utter flop, but you guessed if you told him why you no longer celebrated outside of office hours he’d understand and shut up about the damn office party.

“It was a while ago. Before Hoseok was manager.” You began. “We used to all have Christmas lunch and then go out for drinks… and it was fun, don’t get me wrong,” you emphasised, knowing that he was just itching to call you boring. “But the last time we did it, our manager at the time ended up sleeping with the married receptionist and –”

“Mina?!” Seokjin exclaimed, interrupting story time.

“No, not Mina,” you cried. As if Jungkook would be oblivious to the fact she was married, but then again, he was pretty dumb. He’d been here eight months already and still didn’t know how to photocopy properly.

“Before her.” You stressed, noticing the shock on Seokjin’s face disappear. “They were both wasted but it was still no excuse. Her husband found out, charged into the office Monday morning.”

“Oh, fuck.” Seokjin chuckled, obviously enjoying the drama.

“He was ready to fight but it didn’t end well, because… our manager was a black belt.”

You winced at the memory, remembering that morning very well. The initial shock, the screams, your manager morphing into the Hulk… the punches… the blood… It was crazy to say the least, and after Christmas you never saw the man again. Devin, the CFO, informed you he’d “moved on” by his own willing but you didn’t really believe that. Hoseok was his replacement. Mina was hired shortly after when Kevin couldn’t handle the stress of being an accountant and a receptionist on the side.

“Brilliant,” Seokjin laughed, clapping his hands together. “So, the guy who’d gotten cheated on had the shit kicked out of him in front of the whole office?”

“Pretty much,” you nodded, still feeling a little sad for the man even though it was three years ago now – and you didn’t even know his name. “Ever since then it’s been a buffet in the conference room kind of thing.”

Looking over at Seokjin then, you suddenly had the urge to add, “It’s safer. No one ends up fucking that way.”

His eyes bulged and he broke into a little cough at the shock of the word falling from your mouth so easily, choking on his own laugh. “Fuck…” He went to repeat, only petering off last minute, shaking his head in disbelief.

You tried not to feel smug about it but you couldn’t help it. Lame, yes you were.

“Fine,” Seokjin sighed, resignation in his tone. “Stupid fricking office party it is.”

“I’m glad that we finally agree on something.”

He just rolled his eyes at you.

The next couple of weeks went by quite fast and slowly, in between work, you and Seokjin actually got somewhere with the party planning – surprisingly. At first he’d been adamant to separate each job between you, but that was only because he wanted to be in charge of the theme. You’d point-blank refused. As much as you hated it, you needed to work together as a team, so that meant making decisions together. Star Wars at Christmas wasn’t exactly something you agreed on, but neither was Christmas cats. (“You need to get laid ASAP”, had been his words when you’d suggested such an idea… but he didn’t really have a leg to stand on as a Star Wars fan, so…).

Finally, after just over a week of brainstorming (and bickering), you decided on something: Family Christmas. It wasn’t the most original idea, but it was something, and you’d already thought of a bunch of things to do ready for it, which involved Jungkook getting his camera out and everyone dressing up in their holiday pyjamas.

It was a Monday afternoon right now, an hour until you went home for the day, and you and he were making use of some spare time you had – making a list of all the decorations you needed to purchase. He’d dragged his chair over to your desk which you weren’t very happy about but what could you do? Sometimes sacrifices had to be made, especially when it came down to Christmas.

“It was my birthday over the weekend,” Seokjin told you casually.

“Oh, was it?”

You could feel his gaze on your face as you scribbled down in your notebook. “Didn’t you see on Facebook? Everyone was wishing me happy birthday.”

“Were they?” You said impassively, now aware he was itching for some attention. “I don’t go on there that much.” Why you’d accepted his friend request still baffled you, but you were always the bigger, better person in life. Plus, you’d stopped logging in months ago.

There was a pause. Ahh, lovely, silence. What bliss –

“I mentioned it Friday too.”

You sighed, turning to look at him. “Happy belated birthday, Seokjin. I hope you had a good day.”

He grinned. There it was, what he’d been after. He was such a kid. “Thanks. I did actually, I went –”

“Is Hoseok around?”

Your attention was stolen by the sound of someone’s voice – Namjoon’s voice, and you looked to the reception desk to see him stood beside it. You swooned a little at the sight of him; legs long enough to climb, a butt hard enough to crack walnuts with – chest too. Namjoon was the foreman of the warehouse on the ground floor. He was handsome, charming, and genuinely a nice person. You hadn’t seen him for a while, so you were definitely caught by surprise.

“Yeah, he’s in his office,” Mina replied with a smile, watching his ass as he turned and started walking away. You didn’t blame her.

“Hi, Y/N.” He gave you a dazzling smile as he noticed you, bypassing your boss’ office to make his way over.

“Hi, Joon.” You greeted, unable to stop smiling like an idiot. “How are you?”

“Busy, he shrugged. Leaning in, you felt your pulse begin to quicken. “You don’t go clubbing anymore? I haven’t seen you around.”

“Ana got pretty bored of it.”

That was a lie actually. One you’d thought of on the spot. It wasn’t that you disliked going out, although you did feel too old for it now – the hangovers just kept getting worse – but when you’d started meeting up with Namjoon and his friends in the summer you’d been on a little Quest for Fun. You blamed it on the breakup. Now that you were over it, and had been for quite some time, clubbing wasn’t near as appealing as it used to be. You much preferred staying in and sitting in front of the television.

“That shouldn’t stop you. I can always be your company if you’re lonely,” he smirked, that pesky dimple sending your heart a flutter. He always did this. Flirting came so natural to him, he was great at it.

You heard someone clearing their throat to the side of you. Namjoon and you both looked over at the same time. Oh, right… Seokjin was here. You’d actually forgotten about him.

“Hey, man,” Namjoon smiled politely. They didn’t know each other too well, but that didn’t stop Namjoon from being friendly. He looked down at your notebook. “What are you guys up to?”

The question was definitely directed to you but Seokjin answered anyway. “Organising the office Christmas party.”

“Ahhh.” Namjoon nodded, smirking your way, Seokjin once again forgotten. “Do I get an invite?”

You smiled, raising an eyebrow. “Don’t you always?” He and the guys downstairs always popped up and joined in on the celebrations, but yes, okay, maybe you were flirting too… You couldn’t help it, not after what happened last –

“Namjoon?”

Hoseok’s voice interrupted your thoughts and you looked over Namjoon’s shoulder, seeing him stood in his doorway.

Namjoon sighed, taking a step backwards. “I gotta go, business calls, beautiful. See you around.” Turning his back to you he started to walk off, only to glance over his shoulder last minute, shooting you a wink. “Remember, if you’re ever feeling lonely…”

You giggled, giving him a wave and watched him follow Hoseok into his office.

“What was that?” Seokjin asked, sounding absolutely baffled.

“What was what?” You shot, now realising you’d turned to mush right in front of him.

“That,” he exclaimed. “You and Namjoon all over one another.” He paused to pull a face. “I’ve come all over all queasy.”

“Shut up,” you brushed off. “We weren’t.”

He looked at you as if you’d gone mad. “The looks! The winking. The way your voice went all high-pitched… Do you like him?”

“As a friend,” you stressed. Although, what was it to him?!

He stared at you. “So nothing’s going on between the two of you?”

“No.”

“You expect me to believe that?”

“I don’t expect you to do anything,” you shook your head, laughing in confusion. “I don’t care if you believe me or not.”

Seokjin dropped it thankfully and you got back to your list, jotting down a few more things you needed. It was until Namjoon reappeared from Hoseok’s office and waved goodbye to you that Seokjin couldn’t contain himself any longer.

“What?” You demanded when you heard him scoff to himself.

“He definitely wants to fuck you.” He shook his head. “Trust me. I have a males sixth sense when it comes to that.”

You could feel yourself growing mad. That’s why you ultimately ended up spilling. As stupid as it was. “Maybe he already has…”

It took a moment for Seokjin to make sense of your words. “W-what?” You could physically see when the penny dropped, it was actually quite amusing. You liked making him speechless. “You and Namjoon already… When?!”

You shrugged, feeling mildly embarrassed. “It was during the summer.” You tried to think of more things you’d need for this party but your mind was now a blur and Seokjin wouldn’t let you anyway.

“You can’t just drop that and not give me details,” he cried.

“Keep your voice down,” you hissed. Nobody knew bar Ana. Who had been the with you the night you and Namjoon had hooked up. It wasn’t exactly a secret, but you didn’t want the whole office knowing your business.

Seokjin looked at you wide-eyed, patiently – or not so – waiting for you to explain yourself. You grumbled, not quite believing you were about to tell him, you didn’t want him knowing your business, but then again, it was a great feeling knowing that you’d shocked him. “I’d just… I’d just broken up with my boyfriend and I wanted to… let loose a little. It was just a one time thing.”

But it had been good – amazing, actually. A repeat had never shown itself, but you were happy enough for it to be a onetime thing.

“You have one night stands?” Seokjin asked, although you were sure it was rhetorical.

“It happened once.”

He wasn’t listening. “And here I was thinking you were a prude.”

“Like I said before, you don’t know me.”

Seokjin chuckled, amused by your attitude. It sent your insides a little jittery – but only for a split second – and it could’ve very well been annoyance. “So… How was it?”

“Excuse me?”

“How was the sex?”

“I’m not answering that,” you refused.

“Why not?” He looked puzzled. “What’s a bit of hook up talk amongst friends?”

“Friends?” You repeated with a chortle. “Good one.”

He ignored you. “Come on. I’ll tell you about the sex I had over the weekend. Birthday sex is always the best. One hook up story for another.”

You pulled a face, unsure why the idea of Seokjin getting in on was so unpleasant, but then he laughed. It was loud, and partly squeaky. Contagious too. You couldn’t help but join in. “Go away.” You whined, pushing at his shoulder. You were not going into detail, palming him off. “I can’t even remember it.”

“Ouch.” Seokjin sniggered. “Don’t tell him that. It seems like he thinks about it every goddamn night.”

Pfftt. You doubted that. “I mean, it was ages ago.”

“That shouldn’t matter, babe,” Seokjin tutted. “You never forget a good time.”

“Are you purposely trying to be an asshole?” If he called you babe one more time, you swore to God…

“I’m not trying.” He smirked, face falling as he realised that hadn’t been worded correctly. “…Wait.”

Okay then, he was just a natural asshole. Good to know.

Begrudgingly, you had to admit you and Seokjin made a pretty good team once you put aside your issues with one another. With the theme decided, it was easy enough to get everything in place. Jungkook took the “family” photos you needed of the staff and you went to get them professionally printed, shoving them in frames ready to place around the office in preparation. Seokjin found a lot of the decorations needed, which was actually very helpful of him. You were so impressed you even agreed to let him decorate the conference room all by himself when the time came. The office was already overflowing with tinsel, the Christmas tree up, but the conference room was always left for the day of the party, the last Friday before the company closed for Christmas.

Secret Santa had been organised too. Quite unfortunately you’d pulled out Seokjin’s name (see, you were cursed,) but you’d bought the first pair of cufflinks you’d found in the department store last week, so you didn’t have to worry about that for long. All that was left now was the buffet. And that’s how you found yourself sat in Seokjin’s kitchen on a Friday night, a week to go until D-Day…

There hadn’t been time to look over the restaurant’s menu in work hours, and you’d given up trying to organise things over Skype with him. The first and last time you’d tried that, Seokjin had added Jungkook into the call, both of them getting ready to game. It had been a mess to say the least, so the only other option was to meet up after work. Seokjin had been the first to invite you over, so here you were. It wasn’t as if you purposely didn’t want him to step foot inside your home. He wasn’t that bad.

His apartment wasn’t either… He lived with his best friend, an interior architect, which made a lot of sense once Seokjin told you. Unless you were confusing it for an interior designer, which you probably were – either way, this place was cool. And spotless. It smelt nice too. Always a plus.

You were halfway done picking through the menu when his phone started ringing. You noticed him hesitate, as if he wondering if he should pick up but ultimately decided to after a few rings.

“Hey mom,” he greeted, glancing over at you to mouth sorry.

You shook your head to tell him it was okay and pulled out your phone from your hoody pocket, taking the break to scroll through social media. A text pinged through from Ana, wondering what dress she should wear tomorrow night when you went out for drinks. Every year you went out just before Christmas, despite how much you complained. It was mandatory now, but undeniably Ana took it a lot more serious than you. You had no idea what you’d be wearing tomorrow and wouldn’t until an hour before the Uber came to get you.

“I know that, but I just can’t leave him,” Seokjin sighed beside you. You paused, having never heard him sound quite like that before. He sounded… serious for one. And frustrated. You replied to Ana quickly, trying your best not to overhear anymore – which was difficult. You were practically brushing shoulders at the kitchen table.

“I don’t think he wants to come. He said he doesn’t even want to celebrate this year.”

Again, you were doing a terrible job at this. Whatever this was about, you were beginning to feel rude listening in. But then again, if Seokjin didn’t want you to hear then surely he would’ve stepped into the living room. You were being a goddamn worrier.

“Okay, I’ll speak to you soon, bye. Love you.”

Love you? Seokjin told his mom he loved her? The revelation caught you off guard, forgetting that he was off the phone now and as you heard him clear his throat, shoving the device into his sweatpants pocket, you jumped, copying and slipping yours back inside your hoody.

“Sorry about that,” he apologised. “It was my mom.”

“It’s fine.” You reassured. He sounded a little dejected all of a sudden, a far cry from ten minutes ago when he’d been laughing over the word vol-au-vent. You hesitated, wondering if you should ask if everything was okay? You felt a little awkward, as if you were pushing boundaries, but surprisingly he told you himself without any prompting.

“She really wants me to come home for Christmas but I can’t leave Yoongi.” He definitely sounded exasperated now.

“Yoongi?” You repeated, a little lost.

Seokjin glanced at you, narrowing his eyes as if he was trying to guess if you were messing around or not. “My best friend…” He said slowly. “Y’know, the one I live with…”

“Oh.”

You fool. Now it looked like you hadn’t been listening to him. You had been, you really had, the name just slipped your mind momentarily. After only an hour… “Sorry,” you murmured.

He shrugged, carrying on. “I kinda owe him one.”

“How come?” The menu now laid forgotten.

Seokjin sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.” You waited to see if he’d care to explain, although of course he didn’t have to if he didn’t want to. “His girlfriend broke up with him about a month ago and he’s been pretty cut up ever since.”

He wanted to. You listened politely, aware this was the first time either of you’d had a conversation very much deemed as serious.

“I’m going to stay here with him because well,” he hesitated, glancing at you briefly. He seemed a little embarrassed but decided to continue. “He let me move in with him after my ex and I split up. He was there for me so it’s only fair that I’m there for him.” He finished with a rushed smile, reaching to rub the back of his neck bashfully.

The action was pretty endearing.

“Is that why you transferred?” You asked, aware the conversation was straying but you couldn’t help it. The surprise of finding out he’d moved here after the breakdown of his relationship was distracting to say the least. You’d always pegged Seokjin as a guy who’d never been in a serious relationship – judgemental, yes, but they were the type of vibes he gave out. Maybe you just couldn’t imagine him settled down and in love. He was such a free spirit, never serious enough – although, right now he was...

Possibly, you didn’t know him at all…

Seokjin nodded. “Yeah, I wanted a fresh start. Yoongi said this city was nice, so.”

There was a beat of silence and afraid it would become awkward you rushed to say something of worth. “Break ups are tough.”

God, that sounded a lot cheesier than you intended.

“They are,” he agreed. “Although... I don’t know how yours went – mine was okay, sad but mutual. We just didn’t love each other anymore. Yoongi’s on the other had… He got cheated on.”

“That sucks.” You empathised, before shrugging softly. “Mine was okay too. As break ups go.”

Were you bonding? Bonding with Seokjin? Ludicrous. However, what was even more unbelievable was how normal and comfortable it felt…

“How are you spending Christmas this year?” He asked, continuing to make conversation.

“Well, I usually visit my parents too but they’re going to be abroad this year so I’ll just spend it with my friend Ana’s family.” It was all planned, they lived super close by so at least this year would be easy.

He sniggered, eyes twinkling as opened his mouth to tease you. “Ditched by your own parents, embarrassing.”

“Hey,” you exclaimed, whacking his arm just before you burst into laughter.

He laughed along for a moment before growing semi-serious again. But just for a moment. “It’s actually going to be my first Christmas away from my family. It feels kind of weird but I can’t bring Yoongi along, he’ll bum out the atmosphere.”

You scoffed, voice filled with sarcasm. “You’re such a great friend, Seokjin.”

He chuckled, opening his mouth to reply, but just as he did you both heard the door in the entry way opening, footsteps sounding. You guessed Yoongi was back home. Not long after, a black haired man came into view and Seokjin moved, cool air filling the gap. You realised just how close you’d been sat together. When had that happened?

“Hey Yoongi,” Seokjin smiled. Yoongi raised a hand. “This is Y/N, my co-worker. You’ve heard me talk about her before, right?”

Huh? Whining about you, no doubt…

“Oh... yeah.” Yoongi’s eyes travelled to yours, a small smile upturning one corner of his mouth. “Hey, how’s it going?”

“Hey,” you returned his smile. “Nice to meet you.”

“How was work?” Seokjin asked. He sounded… concerned? That was sweet.

Yoongi shrugged. “Fine. Had an appointment with a client.” Silence. He was a man of very few words. You liked it. “I’m going to my room, have fun planning that Christmas party.”

Of course. That’s why Yoongi knew about you, Seokjin had told him about the party planning…

You waved him bye, and then, once you’d heard him make his way upstairs, Seokjin turned to you. “See? Bums out the atmosphere.”

“What atmosphere?” You joked. “No, but he seemed okay, considering…” Yes, his shoulders were a little slumped, as if he was carrying the whole world on them, but who knows, that could’ve been a thing before the breakup… He had sort of smiled at you…

“Yeah…” Seokjin agreed, before pausing and raising an eyebrow. “Maybe he liked what he saw. You could always do me a solid and try to cheer him up for me.”

You puzzled, unsure what he was getting at.

“You know, like Namjoon did for you…”

“SEOKJIN,” you yelled, jaw dropping in shock. “What the hell is wrong with you?” It wasn’t funny.

He squeaked a laugh. “I’m just messing around, don’t worry. I don’t want you to sleep with Yoongi. That would just be weird. Besides,” he added as an afterthought, smirking mischievously. “You’re too boring.”

He was trying to tease you again, wanting you to bite. Well, it wasn’t going to happen.

“I wouldn’t touch any of your friends,” you shot instead. “They’re tainted by default.”

Seokjin chuckled softly, shaking his head from side to side as he began to study the menu again.

“You ladies have a couple of admirers,” the waiter grinned as he placed two white wine spritzers on your table.

Ana squealed, taking one of the glasses immediately. “Where?”

You’d only been out barely an hour, already in your second bar, but even you had to admit the thought of someone buying you a drink was a little exciting. You followed the waiter’s hand to a booth across the floor, anticipation pumping through your veins only to be thoroughly disappointed when you recognised one of the faces – well, both faces actually, but you’d only been acquainted with the second yesterday…

“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” you groaned.

“What?” Ana asked mildly confused, waving off the waiter with a thanks. “What’s wrong? They are so hot!”

“That’s dick cheese and his friend!”

“Wha–The guy you work with?” Your best friend sounded flabbergasted. “Which one is dick cheese? Although I wouldn’t kick either out of bed…”

“Ana!” You hissed, taking another glance at the booth. Seokjin waved at you wildly, an obnoxious grin on his face. You grumbled. “He’s the one on the left.”

“Oh, fuck.” She waved back, much to your annoyance. “No wonder he gets you so angry.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” You were confused. Enough to not realise when she stood up, making a beeline for their booth. “Wait–Ana! Where are you going?!”

She didn’t bother to look back as she replied. “I’m going to say thanks, duh.”

And that’s how you found yourself well on the way to Drunksville. You were only supposed to get tipsy tonight, knowing you’d pay for anything more in the morning, but well, you’d moved onto a club down the road and the drinks kept coming, and as much as you hated to admit it, hanging out with Seokjin and Yoongi was actually pretty enjoyable. Although, no matter how much fun you were having, it wasn’t enough to stay on the dancefloor for too long.

“Hey,” you greeted Yoongi, slipping inside and around the booth to slump down next to him. Dancing couldn’t have been his cup of tea either because he’d given up way before you had. Seokjin and Ana were still going strong out there.

You downed what was left of your drink, willing yourself to cool down as you huffed and puffed. God, you were drunk.

“Are you okay?” He chuckled.

You smiled. You liked Yoongi. He was nice, quiet – you liked quiet. “So, tell me,” you wondered, eager to understand something. “How’s a guy like you friends with Seokjin?”

Yoongi’s forehead creased. “What do you mean?”

Shrugging, you bit back a hiccup. “You seem normal, he’s…” What was Seokjin again? You could usually come up with a million and one (not so nice) words to describe him but the room was slightly spinning and your brain came up blank.

Yoongi understood you anyway, laughing as he replied. “He can just seem that way at first, it’s the nerves. They make him act up.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Nerves?” What did that mean? You could never imagine a nervous Seokjin. He was always so sure of himself.

Yoongi didn’t clarify. “Me and him are actually very similar. Annoying little shits when we want to be,” he laughed, before hesitating, “I’m…I’m a little injured right now, that’s why I seem a lot more subdued.”

“Oh,” you murmured, hoping you didn’t come off as condescending. “Yeah, Seokjin told me about your breakup. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine.”

“You seem a lot happier tonight though,” you offered. Happier than yesterday evening.

“It’s called alcohol,” he grinned, bringing his glass up to his lips. He paused. “Y’know, he’s pretty cool once you get to know him.” It took you a second to realise he was talking about Seokjin. “He’s a great person.”

You shrugged slightly. “He’s okay.” What did it matter what you thought anyway? Seokjin definitely didn’t care.

“He likes to joke around, I admit, but it seems to make you laugh, so.” Yoongi smirked slightly and tilted his head, taking a took a sip of his beer.

Taken aback, you tried to think. Had you been laughing with Seokjin all night? Maybe laughing at him was a better way to describe it…

“What are you guys talking about?”

You jumped when you heard a familiar loud voice and looked up to see Seokjin leaning over the table, four shots balanced between the fingers of both hands – two in each. His face was flushed, redder than you’d ever seen it – he’d obviously had enough of dancing too.

“Nothing,” Yoongi replied smoothly. He stood up, finishing his drink. “I’m uh, I’m going outside for some fresh air.”

“But I got us shots,” Seokjin complained.

Yoongi looked over at you and smiled before tapping Seokjin on the shoulder. “I’m sure you and Y/N will make good use of them.”

Hm… Everyone was drunk and acting weird. Not that you had time to contemplate it because immediately Yoongi had gone and Seokjin was taking his seat next to you. His cologne hit you. It was different to usual, you’d realised instantly earlier in the night.

“Where’s Ana?” You asked. They’d both been dancing together when you’d left them.

He shrugged as he handed you a shot. “I don’t know, lost her on the dancefloor.”

You hesitated. Should you have more to drink? The shots might push you over the edge. But… you were having fun. It was one night out, you might as well do it properly. So quickly you downed the shot, smirking Seokjin’s way as you picked up another. “I’ll have hers then.”

He grinned slowly before scoffing as you choked. That shit burned, and you might have been able to handle the first shot no problem but this time your eyes watered and your throat screamed.

“Seems like you’re trying to prove a point,” he laughed.

“What do you mean?” You demanded, already feeling more lightheaded.

He didn’t care to explain, instead doing his two shots straight after the other, able to handle them with just a wince. “What do you think of Yoongi?” He asked, barely giving the liquid time to slip down his throat.

“Huh?”

“Do you like him?”

You shrugged, confused as to why he was asking you. “He seems nice, yeah.”

“So, you like him?”

You froze. “Are you still trying to hook us up? I don’t like him like that.” You didn’t even know him.

“No, no,” Seokjin rushed. “I wasn’t trying to… never mind.” He shook his head, changing the subject. “So who did you get for Secret Santa?”

“I’m not telling you,” you huffed, pushing his shoulder.

“That means it’s me.”

“Seokjiiin,” you whined, leaning into him as you nudged him once more.

He laughed, looking a little surprised by your sudden affection – however unintentional. “I think you’re drunk.”

…Maybe those shots were a bad idea, you’d only get worse…

“Should we go and look for Yoongi and Ana?” Seokjin asked, checking his watch.

You’d been sat together for a while now, conversation coming surprisingly easy. It was nonsense mostly – you might or might not have helped Seokjin with some festive ideas to prank Jungkook with – but Ana hadn’t come back from the dancing yet, and Yoongi was still outside – unless he’d done a runner, which was highly probable according to Seokjin. So it was probably best you both went to look for your friends.

You followed closely behind Seokjin as you searched through the club and at one point he reached for your hand, helping you through a large group of people. His grip was warm and oddly gentle, but you didn’t have time to think about it too much as he’d already let go. He waited for you as you checked the restroom, but your best friend was nowhere to be found. It was probably the alcohol in your system but you started to get a little worried, especially when your text went ignored. Seokjin seemed to notice.

“Stay here, okay? I’m going to check outside. I don’t want you to freeze to death.” He told you, having to practically shout in your ear the music was so loud in this area.

You found yourself a little touched by his concern, no matter how small it was and listened, clutching your purse to your middle. You were in a black mini dress after all, your arms barely covered. You still had the perfect view of him though, able to watch him step out the building and look down the road. You noticed the concern on his features slowly turn into shock, his mouth dropping open, and you frowned. What the hell had he seen?

“Seokjin!” You called, which was pretty useless. He couldn’t hear a damn thing. You could barely hear yourself. You rushed forward. “Seokjin?” You pushed your way past some people who had clogged up the entry way and dashed down the stone steps. “What is it?”

The winter air hit you instantly. It was fucking freezing. Seokjin still looked in shock, glued to the spot and you grew frustrated, stopping right beside him. “What?” You demanded. “What’s going on?!”

You followed his line of vision, and immediately you were positive your expression matched his. A little down the road, up against the wall, Yoongi and Ana were wrapped around one another, attached at the mouth. You were speechless, the cold no longer a problem.

“Let’s not interrupt them,” Seokjin said suddenly, taking you by the hand once again to drag you back inside. (Your feet honestly wouldn’t work.)

The instant heat got your blood pumping again, although the music did nothing for your whirring head. “What did we just witness?” You turned to him and asked (shouted).

Seokjin still looked just as shocked, but he managed a joke, wrinkling his nose up. “Ew, what if our friends start dating? I’ll be stuck with you forever.”

“Grow up,” you rolled your eyes, before randomly taking in the sight of him. How wasn’t he melting to death? The guy was in a fuzzy Christmas sweater. Actually, an even more important question; how hadn’t he electrocuted himself? The reindeer on his chest lit up. If one drop of sweat got into that hidden battery pack he was done for, surely?

“I thought you’d be saving that jumper for Friday,” you commented (yelled), quite honestly in a daze. You were drunk, in absolute shock, toes frozen, and somehow you were stood with Seokjin making conversation about Christmas jumpers.

“Who says I don’t have a whole drawer full of the festive fuckers. I did say I loved Christmas, no?” He laughed.

You joined in. “I thought you were bullshitting.”

“Of course you did.” He said with a small smile, shaking his head a little.

“I can’t believe we caught them kissing.” You couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Seokjin wiggled his eyebrows playfully. “They’re probably doing more than that by now.”

“Shut up.” You whined. “Wait. Do you think he told her about the breakup?”

“What?” Seokjin asked you to repeat, leaning in slightly, unable to hear you properly above the music.

“Do you think she knows he’s on the rebound?”

Seokjin shrugged. “Maybe. Who cares.”

“I care!” You exclaimed causing him to wince because you’d accidentally shouted in his ear. “Ana’s my best friend!”

Seokjin rolled his eyes slightly. “I thought you of all people would know people can just fuck with no strings attached.”

“Will you ever drop that,” you deadpanned. Your hook up with Namjoon happened so long ago now, you barely even thought about it unless you saw him at work, which was pretty rare anyway.

“Nope.” The way the sound of the p popped off his lips annoyed you.

“What about you?” You asked, changing the subject from you. “No getting lucky tonight? Is Christmas sex not on par with birthday sex?”

He burst out laughing. “I’d say it is, yeah, but I still have a couple of weeks to make it happen, so ask me then.”

His answer almost annoyed you more and you couldn’t place why. He was just being stupid, classic old Seokjin. You should be used to it by now.

“Come on,” he winked, stepping forward, towards the middle of the club and his hand cupped your elbow. “Let’s dance!”

“No, no, no,” you immediately refused, grabbing his hand to stop him.

“Pleaseee,” he pleaded, eyes wide. “I want to dance with you. You’ve hardly been on the floor all night.”

Oh. Your heart did a little flip inside your chest. Maybe it was the tequila making its way back up your body…

“Come on,” he chuckled, not giving up. “It’ll warm you up.” On cue both of his hands lifted and he started rubbing your shoulders. “I told you not to come outside. Now we both have the mental image of Yoongi sucking face stuck behind our eyelids and you’ve got frost bite.”

You giggled, but still wouldn’t relent. He could stay here warming you up for the rest of the night if he wanted… Dancing made you sweaty.

He tilted his head, giving you a look. “Y/N, do you want me to call you boring again?”

And just like that you wanted to prove him wrong… You were a sucker. He knew what he was doing.

Only, the second round of shots for some Dutch courage were probably a bad idea. Your idea, but a very bad one, nevertheless. The dancefloor seemed to be stickier than it was an hour ago – and busier. It was packed and loud, which worked to distract you from how drunk you were.

Seokjin could move. You hadn’t realised earlier, not really paying attention as you’d danced with Ana instead, but with just the two of you left you let him embarrass the hell out of you on the floor. At first it was definitely on purpose; he pulled the largest, wackiest moves that you begged him to stop, but soon enough he had you dying of laughter, so he continued, your amusement spurring him on. And then drunk you had to join in…

“You know what? You’re actually pretty fun once you loosen up,” Seokjin yelled above the music, his hands somehow having found their way to your hips as you both snaked them to the beat.

“I’m always fun,” you informed him, your breath fanning across his face as you lifted your arms in the air. “You just only know work me.”

He smiled. “Well, I don’t know, I think I’m getting to know normal you lately…”

You snorted some type of noise. “That’s what you think!”

He went to open his mouth to argue but you spun around, your back pressed to him as you continued to sway. Your skin was hot to the touch, too many bodies cramped in this small space, but you loved the feeling of Seokjin’s hands on your hips, even more so when they slowly inched up your waist. You flung your arms back, looping them around his neck to pull him closer. It had been a long time since you’d danced with a guy like this. Not even Namjoon. Not even your ex.

You could feel how boiling he was too, a thin layer of sweat coating the back of his neck, and as you ran your fingers through his slightly wavy hair he let out a little groan. It was extremely quiet, would’ve gone unnoticed if his mouth wasn’t hovering by your ear, but now you’d heard it and it changed everything. Something exploded inside your chest, fresh heat prickling your skin and you found yourself pushing into him further, grinding in a small circle.

The dancefloor was full of couples like this so no one took any notice. But Seokjin did. He froze, as if he was sure he’d imagined it, so ever so carefully you did it again. This time he knew his drunk mind wasn’t playing tricks on him and after a slight hesitation his hands slid to your hips again, gripping them tighter. He let you grind against him, but didn’t reciprocate, he just kept dancing to the music, which seemed to turn you even braver.

With the bass of the music pumping through your body you moved back and forth against his crotch, hearing his breath get shallower and shallower. It was addictive and you were chasing the feeling before you knew it, bold and finding yourself getting more turned on by the second. It wasn’t long before you began to feel him grow hard against your ass, and even though surprised, you still carried on, loving it.

“Y/N,” he murmured against your ear, sounding out of breath. You circled your hips again. This time he couldn’t help but push back. “It’s getting late.” His voice faltered. “You’re drunk. I’m drunk.”

You frowned to yourself. What was he trying to say? You felt his hands leave your hips, reaching for your arms around his neck to slide them away. He was trying to get you to face him. He was still half hard in his pants but he ignored it.

“You’re drunk,” he repeated, as if it was some sort of answer, some sort of reason. He started to twist you his way but you tripped, falling into him. “Definitely drunk,” he chuckled, tugging his hands off your waist from where he’d caught you. “It’s time to go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” you pouted, wrapping your arms around his neck. You went to push your body into him but he angled away from you, creating distance.

“You need to go home,” he laughed. It sounded awkward. “Think of that hangover tomorrow.”

“I will,” you shrugged, “tomorrow.”

Seokjin stared at you, his brown eyes wavering slightly. They were darker than usual, swimming with something that made your belly flip, but he steeled himself, holding strong. “Come on,” he pressed. “We can share an Uber.”

“It’s fine.” You muttered, disappointed for some reason. You were unsure how he could hear you above the music, but he did. “I’ll find Ana.”

He chuckled. “Ana’s definitely gone by now. Don’t you remember what we caught her doing?”

Oh.

He was right.

Damn your best friend.

You didn’t remember much of the Uber ride home, the sudden departure from the club had brought deafening silence and you were now very aware of how much your head was spinning. Your bed was calling you – your warm, cosy, king sized bed… However, you took one look at Seokjin as he helped you out of the car and all that became forgotten.

You clung to his jumper, voice still loud despite there being no music now. “Do you want to come in?”

“Uh, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” He replied carefully, chuckling. “Sober you definitely doesn’t want me in your apartment.”

You reached forward, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes and giving him what you hoped was your best smile. “Drunk me does.”

He held your stare for a moment, searching long enough to see something that made him make up his mind. “Fine,” he sighed lightly, bending down into the car to talk to the driver. You were barely listening, looking up at the stars, but Seokjin held your hand tightly, keeping your heels rooted to the ground.

“Keep this thing running, I’ll be back in five.”

“That’s gonna cost you, my friend.”

“It’s fine.” Another sigh. “Just– stay? I won’t be long.”

It took you a couple of minutes to get through your door, Seokjin had to open it in the end, and he followed you in, a respectable distance behind you. He closed the door quietly, smiling when you turned back to look at him as you kicked off your shoes.

“Okay, you’re home safe now. I’m just going to go, see you Monday, okay?”

“No, don’t go,” you bemoaned, closing the distance to cling to him once again. In your drunken state you couldn’t place why you wanted him to stay so bad. All you knew was that you did.

He sighed again, lifting his hands to clasp over your wrists in an attempt to move you away. He looked and sounded torn. “Y/N, the Uber’s running. I’m going to end up paying double to get home.”

You shrugged. “Tell him to leave then.”

He closed his eyes and exhaled, it sounded like a whimper. “What are you doing to me?” He murmured, but you were barely paying attention, swaying where you stood. He noticed and groaned. “You’re so drunk!”

“Am not.”

He laughed, genuinely amused, and if your drunk mind didn’t know any better it sounded as if he was endeared by you. He shook your shoulders lightly. “Look at me.” You couldn’t quite focus. He cupped your face instead, laughing louder as he angled you to stare straight into his eyes. “Look at me. You are so out of it.”

You just grumbled, but warmth fluttered through your body. It felt good to be touched by him. You thought back to the dancefloor, the way you’d been pressed up against his body. Your mouth parted, suddenly thirsty. Really thirsty. But for what?

“Can you even make out my face?” Seokjin asked, continuing to be amused.

“Of course,” you snapped, fingers reaching for him. “There’s your hair,” – You ran your fingers through the dark brown locks – “your eyes... nose…” He let you poke his eyelids gently and then you bopped his nose.

“Get offf.” He snorted softly.

And then your attention fell to his mouth. Those plump, deep pink lips that were opened and slightly wet from where he’d been swiping his tongue across them. You swallowed, hands cupping his jaw. “Your lips –”

You dove before you knew what you were really doing, pressing your mouth to his, taking him by surprise. Not a second later he was pulling back, holding you at arm’s length. “Woah, woah.” He chuckled in surprise, but his voice wavered. “Not the time, Y/N. Trust me.”

You frowned, annoyance spiking and you shook him off. “What? So you’ve suddenly turned chivalrous now?” Scoffing, you felt like an idiot – upset and embarrassed, you spoke without thinking. “Or do you just not want me?”

Something flashed across Seokjin’s face. He looked irritated. Sounded it too when he replied. “Of course I fucking want you.” You froze. Huh? However, you didn’t have time to think about what he’d said before he was striding towards you, backing you up against the wall. You gripped the tops of his arms on instinct, looking up at him as he loomed over you, hair falling into his dark eyes. They were the same colour as they had been back at the club – when you’d been grinding all over him. Your breath caught.

“Ever wondered why you frustrate me so much?” He rasped.

Something inside you screamed. Not that you had time to realise because immediately his mouth was on yours. Each press of his lips was rushed, as if he was acting on instinct and all you could do was cling to him and try to keep up. You let out a moan when you felt his tongue attempt to push past the seam of your lips and you let him in, moaning louder when the wet muscles clashed together, the dam now broken.

It was contagious. Seokjin grunted against you, throatier than you were expecting, noises so unlike him your whole body burned in desire. Actually, it was on fire. It started to crave him, the feeling so strong all you could do was let it take you. You yelped when his hands curled around your ass, giving you one strong push and you promptly jumped into his arms. He caught you effortlessly and you wrapped your legs around him.

By God, he was strong. He crashed you into the wall, mouth still hungry as he ground his crotch into yours. The skirt of your dress had ridden up to your waist, your underwear the only thing protecting you as he rubbed you against his dick. Which was hard again – very hard. Maybe he’d had a semi the whole car ride home, which was a thought that got you moaning louder inside his mouth, your tongues getting messy, your teeth clashing.

“Seok-jin,” you whimpered. Your core tingled, hot to the touch and you could feel your arousal beginning to pool against the lace of your thong. You wanted him – no, you needed him. “Pleaseee. Please.”

He grunted, your begging fucking with his head and you felt his arms give way. He stumbled forward, no other option but to ease you down to the floor, but his mouth didn’t relent; he kissed you just as needy as before, sliding down your chin to make his way to your throat.

You gasped at the new sensation, his tongue licking strips up your skin, his teeth nipping. Your legs shook under you, nothing to do with the alcohol you’d consumed, it was all him. He was driving you wild, and you needed him to fuck you. You knew that much.

Your hand reached between your bodies, loving the sound of Seokjin heavy breathing against your ear as he now sucked on your lobe, and you wrapped your palm around his clothed cock. He was solid. Rock hard.. It had to be painful, surely? You got to work, rubbing him back and forth in an attempt to relieve some of his discomfort.

“Fuck,” he muttered, and you jutted your hips into him too, mistaking the cursing for his enjoyment. “Y/N, wait,” he said, pulling back and stopping the movements of your hand, his long fingers circling your wrist. You tried reaching for his mouth again, still oblivious to his sudden change in demeaner.

“Not like this,” he murmured, trying his best not to kiss you back, no matter how hard you pecked his mouth.

“Why?” You asked, giving up. Your lips were wet and swollen. They prickled. God, you were so turned on your voice shook. His too.

“Do you even know what you’re doing right now?” He sounded uncertain, looking you in the eyes as he chuckled bitterly. “You hate my guts. You don’t want my dick.”

You frowned. What was he talking about? You’d been practically dry humping him. Of course you wanted his dick. “I do,” you insisted, leaning into him to tug at his belt. He didn’t give in. “Seokjin, just give me your dick.”

He stared down at you, his hand still clutching your wrist, breathing still ragged, his eyes still black… but despite how much he obviously wanted this, he composed himself, his expression softening. You felt him reach behind you and gently pull your dress down over your ass.

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” He hummed softly, voice still visibly affected by you. “When you’re sober. When we’re both sober…”

You awoke suddenly, peaceful and serene for all of two seconds before you groaned, burrowing your face into your pillow. It felt as if someone was stomping on top of your head. What the hell happened last night? Wait… How had you even gotten home? Why couldn’t you remember anything?!

You blindly reached for your nightstand, praying your cell phone was there, fingers stretched as far as they would allow until you felt the familiar belonging. You grabbed it and burrowed further under the covers. You needed to call Ana. She’d fill you in – make you remember.

Wait –

At the thought of your best friend you suddenly remembered a few things. Seokjin and Yoongi had been at the club too. They’d bought you drinks, you’d sat at their table, drunk more. Tequila must have been involved for you to be this clueless. Enough of it and you could forget your own name come morning. You’d always been the same since college. Squinting at the brightness of the screen, your head throbbing even harder if that was possible, you started to call Ana. It rang and rang… Frustrated you gave up. She could sleep through the end of the world so why were you surprised. You hoped she woke up with the world’s largest and longest hangover, serves her right for not – Oh. OH.

You shot up, in immediate regret when the entirety of your head spasmed. Groaning you tried to fight through the pain, wishing you had some calm so you could actually piece together your memories. Ana and Yoongi. Outside. All over one another. Making out against the wall.

What. The. Fuck.

No wonder why she wasn’t picking up.

The memories were hazy, but it was something. You continued to wrack your brain… You and Seokjin had found them, but they hadn’t been aware and then you’d gone back inside. He asked you to dance and that’s when you’d suggested more shot… Shots. Tequila shots. You were an idiot. Try as you might you couldn’t remember anything after that. It was all one big blur. How had you gotten from the club to your apartment?

You moved to sit on the side of your bed, soles of your feet pressing into the carpet. Your stomach churned a little. No, you couldn’t be sick. You hated being sick. Rubbing your stomach in an attempt to soothe it you looked down and realised you were still wearing your dress. Gross. You’d gotten into bed with your clothes on? You groaned weakly. You better have washed your hands before knocking out… although, you highly doubted it.

Looking at your phone again, you knew there was only one thing you could do. If you wanted answers you needed to ask the right person…

(10:34am) You: How the hell did I get home last night?

No more than a minute later three dots appeared on the screen, signalling Seokjin’s reply. But he was taking his time with it. Jesus. They kept disappearing for a few moments just to pop up again. Why was it such a hard question?!

(10:37am) Seokjin: You can’t remember?

Really? Three minutes to type three words?

(10:37am) You: Obviously not I wouldn’t be asking you otherwise (10:38am) You: We saw Ana and Yoongi kissing... We had shots... We danced

You talked him through what you did recall, and once again, he played that irritating game with those three dots. You knew he wasn’t typing up an essay.

(10:41am) Seokjin: And then I took you home

You raised both your eyebrows. He took you home? Why did that surprise you so much?

(10:41am) You: Thanks (10:42am) Seokjin: How’s your head? (10:43am) You: Hurts (10:43am) You: Everything hurts (10:43am) Seokjin: 🤣

Rolling your eyes, you threw your phone on the bed and managed to stand up. You were done talking to him of he was just going to laugh at your misery. Besides, he’d told you all you needed to know. The mystery was solved. Next, you needed to shower.

Immediately.

You were still feeling extremely fragile the next morning but managed to get into the office at 9am sharp with the help of coffee. You’d spent the night on the phone to Ana, getting all the nitty gritty details about her hook up with Yoongi. Apparently, they’d bumped into each other outside after she’d slipped out for some fresh air and had gotten talking. He’d told her about his recent breakup, and having been cheated on before, naturally Ana and he had bonded, and said bonding had led to kissing. Lots of it. Which had then led to lots of sex back at her apartment. (Yes, he did know how to use his dick if anyone was curious, and yes, it was very pretty.)

You’d expected to hear about it from Seokjin this morning but he was actually uncharacteristically quiet. Although, it might have been because he was partially blindsided when he got into the office. First, he was late, which had never happened before. No matter what you thought of Seokjin, he was always punctual and professional (when it was called for). And second, there was a surprise waiting for him.

Jungkook had draped his entire desk and chair in strings of fairy lights. Everything was lit up. It was a lot, but even you had to admit it was funny, and you hated their pranking war with a burning passion. Mainly because you were always caught in the middle. Seokjin however, seemed a little out of it. You mean, he still laughed, tried to wrestle Jungkook in the middle of Hoseok’s good morning greeting, but something about him seemed off. You couldn’t put a finger on it, it was almost like he was forcing it.

He hardly looked at you when you asked him what he had planned for payback. Shrugging his shoulders as he rolled his chair out and slumped in it – lights still twinkling. “Who knows.”

“I thought you had a bunch of ideas up your sleeve?” You’d spent a good half an hour discussing them Saturday night.

That got his attention. He raised an eyebrow as he stared at you. “You remember that? I thought everything was a blur?”

“Yeah, anything after we caught our best friends getting freaky on the streets.” You chuckled, feeling a little uneasy by the way he was still looking at you, as if he was suspicious of something.

After a moment he gave up…Possibly? Upturning his shoulder he gave you a small smile. “Lightweight.” He didn’t meet your eyes though and leaned over to start pulling at a string of lights that laid between your desks.

You reached over on instinct, placing your hand over his to stop him. He recoiled a little and you pulled back. What was that reaction for? “Keep them up,” you told him, choosing to ignore whatever had just happened. “It’s Christmas after all.”

You dropped your hand under the desk, it tingled a little. Seokjin’s hand had felt warm, familiar? The inklings of something floated around the sides of your brain but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

“Just don’t blow us up,” you joked.

Wait. Seokjin’s stupid Christmas jumper from Saturday night. You remembered now. It had lit up and you’d wondered how he hadn’t set himself on fire yet. That was it. What was trying to seep into your brain just now. Hopefully things were coming back to you slowly… You’d remember everything in no time, you were sure of it.

Meanwhile Seokjin nodded slowly, retreating his hand as he smiled at you slightly.

Was he feeling okay? You thought about asking him. Maybe his mom was still taking it bad that he wouldn’t make Christmas this year? You opened your mouth, full intentions to check in on him, but stopped yourself. It wasn’t really your place. You didn’t know his personal life all too well. You mean, yeah, he’d told you some things lately, but you didn’t want to overstep the mark. He was probably just having a bad day. Everyone had them.

However, you had to admit there was something quite unnerving about seeing him so downcast. It didn’t suit him.

What on earth could have happened?

The last week of work flew by. It was always the same, the office in a rush to finish up all loose ends before the two week holiday. You and Seokjin had one last meeting on Wednesday morning, just to check in and make sure everything was ready for Friday. The buffet was getting delivered the morning of and that’s when Seokjin was going to decorate the conference room. You’d been in charge of the Christmas playlist but he didn’t seem to have much interest when you’d shown him your choices. In fact, he was still acting a little strange.

He was quiet, not his usual self, as in, he wasn’t constantly finding ways to annoy you. In fact, you barely spoke unless you had to, which before this Christmas party would’ve been great – the norm actually. However now, things were different. Had you done something to upset him? You couldn’t think what. Maybe you’d offended him when you were drunk and couldn’t remember? You thought about asking him but couldn’t find the nerve. Besides, Seokjin didn’t seem the type to get offended by trivial things. You and he tended to be at one another’s throats most (all) of the time, but it was all done in jest. You didn’t despise him, he just got on your nerves – like you got on his. You couldn’t imagine yourself saying anything terrible to him, especially because from what you could remember of that night, you’d both had fun… Hanging out with Seokjin wasn’t too bad, drunk or sober.

So, things continued to remain a mystery, until that was, the next day…

“Here, I got you something.”

You looked away from your computer at the sound of Seokjin’s voice, finding him stood above you, his winter coat nearly buttoned all the way up. It was just after lunch on Thursday but Seokjin and Hoseok had to head off for an emergency meeting with a client who wanted to discuss something before Christmas.

Your forehead furrowed when you saw he was holding out a small glittery gift bag and when you took too long to take it he shook it. You reacted, taking it from him but still questioning him with your eyes. “Seokjin, Secret Santa is tomorrow.”

“No, it’s not for that,” he informed you, his voice oddly quiet. Now you were even more confused. Why had he gotten you a gift? You felt oddly embarrassed as you played with the ribbon handles nervously.

“I got Beryl,” he grumbled, easily making you ease up and chuckle. You couldn’t even begin to imagine what he’d purchased a sixty year old grandma… A bar of soap probably.

As if you couldn’t stop it, your fingers were opening up the gift. Seokjin noticed and started babbling immediately. “I saw it when I was out shopping for decorations and it made me think of you… I hope you like it. Sorry if you don’t.”

You awed as you pulled out a small Christmas bauble, green and gold in colour with the painting of a black cat in the centre, complete with a Christmas hat between its ears. It was beautiful and quirky – and totally unexpected. You’d gotten him a damn pair of lame ass cufflinks.

“You can hang it on your tree at home or something,” you heard him suggest.

You looked up at him, still a little speechless but you managed to get something out. “Thank you, Seokjin. I love it.”

His face lit up at that. The first time you’d seen him genuinely smile all week. “You do?”

You nodded, finding yourself unable to otherwise reply. Your heart felt a little funny. It was good to see him a cheerful, you’d missed it. He always looked good when he smiled…

He was looking at you, and you didn’t know whether you’d been staring first, but he was watching you carefully now, gaze slightly intense, as if he was trying to work something out, to find something. You dropped your chin, feeling embarrassed, cheeks hot. Why did you feel so strange? You were making it obvious.

“You really don’t remember Saturday night?” He spoke suddenly, tone soft, careful.

You froze. Straitening to look at him again you shook your head. “Nope.” You forced out a laugh. “It’s still a total blank. Can you believe it? Tequila is my mortal enemy.”

One side of Seokjin’s mouth raised into a half smile, but he didn’t look too amused. You felt something trickle down your spine – a bad feeling. “Seokjin?” You questioned, finding courage. “Why? What happened?” You needed to know.

“Hm?” He hummed, lost in thought. His face was serious once again.

“What happened Saturday night?”

He shook his head, squeezing out a small chuckle. It had fake written all over it. “Nothing.”

“Something must’ve happened,” you insisted, growing a little frustrated. Whatever it was had something to do with his odd behaviour.

He shrugged, hands in his pockets. His cheeks were growing flushed but that just annoyed you. “It’s nothing. You were just wasted.”

“Tell me now!” You hissed, careful to keep your voice down. The office was pretty empty at the moment, some still in the staffroom, others busy around the building, but you still didn’t want anyone overhearing something personal.

“No.” He refused. He looked stressed out.

“Seokjin!” He was stressing you out now. What the hell had you done that night?!

“I don’t want to.”

“Why?” You practically wailed.

“It’s embarrassing.”

“What happened?” You were losing it now, thinking the worst. “What did I do?”

He sighed loudly, finally giving in. “You kissed me.”

Silence.

The colour drained from your face at his revelation, dread instantly filling you. What? You hadn’t been expecting that. Whatever your mind had thought up, it definitely wasn’t that.

“We kissed, okay?” He continued. “I took you home, you practically begged me to come inside and we kissed.”

“Oh, my god,” you replied weakly, head now in your hands. You took a deep breath, trying to wrack your brains for any memories. How could you have forgotten such a major thing?! You invited Seokjin into your apartment? You kissed him? No wonder he’d been acting so strange this past week. You’d put him in such an awkward position. He was embarrassed and now so were you…

“I’m sorry,” Seokjin apologised, down to a whisper. “I should’ve told you but I just didn’t know how. I wasn’t expecting you to forget everything and I didn’t know how to –” He stopped himself with a groan, going around in circles.

Meanwhile, things were coming back to you. Not memories as such, more like hazy images and the faintest of sensations. His words had dislodged something. Dancing together, his hands on your body, his breath on your neck. The uber ride home. Stood in your entry way. Your hands on his arms. The feeling of his body pressed into yours. Your mouths attached and hungry. You felt yourself burn, unclear recollections stirring something hidden inside of you.

“…Y/N?” Seokjin prompted. You managed to look at him but that was it. You mouth wouldn’t work, and what could you say anyway? How could you explain yourself when you couldn’t remember all the details?

“It’s fine.” He told you suddenly, thinking he was reassuring you. “Don’t worry about it, okay?”

“Seokjin, you ready?”

You both startled at the sound of Hoseok’s voice and looked up to see him stood in his office doorway, buttoning up his coat.

Seokjin nodded, a little dazed. “Uh, yeah, coming. Won’t be a minute.”

“Last minute party planning, huh?” Hoseok grinned. “I’ll meet you in the car.”

“Look, I gotta go,” Seokjin told you once Hoseok had strolled off. “You’ll probably be gone by the time I get back, so I’ll see you tomorrow.” He spoke in a rush, not giving you time to respond. Your mouth opened, but he cut in. “It’s fine, Y/N. Trust me.”

And then he was gone.

You looked down at the Christmas bauble on your desk, so mortified you felt like crying.

Crying might have been a tad dramatic, you admit. So you didn’t. You were a mixture of embarrassed and confused, unable to concentrate properly the rest of the afternoon. How had you kissed Seokjin and just forgotten about it? It was scary to think something like that could happen, a blind spot in your memory. His revelation had helped you remember some bits but there was nothing concrete. You spent your evening forcing yourself to recall more details, talking things over with Ana on the phone. You couldn’t not tell her. Not when you were in the middle of having a mini breakdown.

She was interested in a lot more than just remembering the kiss though…

“So if you remember him kissing you back what does that mean?” She demanded.

You groaned. “I don’t even know if I’m remembering it correctly.” But why would your mind play tricks on you? Although, false memories were a thing…

“Of course you are! Dick cheese likes you. It’s obvious! Classic high school bullshit.”

“Ana, please,” you sighed. Now wasn’t the time for her theories. “He was drunk too,” you reasoned. “Just because we kissed doesn’t mean he likes me. I don’t like him, do I?” Yet, you’d grinded all over him on the dancefloor. (The memories of that were now clearer, and they made your cheeks burn…)

“Hmm.” She didn’t sound too convinced.

“Ana, come on!” You cried. “It was a stupid mistake, and now I’ve just made things super awkward between us.”

No wonder Seokjin had been acting weird all week, and there you’d been completely oblivious! The thought was enough to make you groan out loud. How could you go to work tomorrow? Host a party with him when things were so awkward?!

“I mean… You two need to talk about it properly. Make sure there’s no crossed wires. If you’re both on the same page then there’s no need for things to be awkward between you.”

You rolled your eyes. She made it seem so easy. She wasn’t the one who’d made out with her co-worker. She never had to see her hook up ever again. While you had to look yours in the eye five days a week for the rest of your life quite possibly.

“You guys didn’t even hook up,” Ana screeched when you told her just that. “A slight fumble in your hallway isn’t exactly something you need to relocate for. Just talk to him.”

Simple, right?

But nothing ever was...

“Let’s just forget about it,” Seokjin smiled your way as you both helped carry in the buffet food the next morning. He was holding the building’s door open for you with his back, letting you slip in first as you cradled the cardboard box filled with things you couldn’t even remember ordering. Too preoccupied with trying to bring up yesterday.

You paused, not expecting him to shrug it off like that. In fact, it got you pretty speechless. Were you hurt? As much as Ana’s idea had made you want the earth to open up and swallow you, it made sense to talk things out with him.

This morning you’d remembered even more while you’d brushed your teeth… Seokjin helping you slip the skirt of your dress down, finding your kitchen to get you some water… You were slowly piecing things together and it was confusing the hell out of you… You wished more than anything you could remember the whole thing. To know what was going on inside your head at the time, because right now you were a mess.

But hearing Seokjin sound so flippant, so unfazed made you a little deflated… What if you didn’t want to forget about it?

“I mean, you did already, so,” he gave a shrug and you followed him into the elevator in a daze.

“Oh, yeah, okay,” you forced yourself to say, hitting the third floor button. You turned to look at him and plastered a smile onto your face. It hurt. “Good idea.”

“Where is he?” Jungkook whined like a big kid. (The Christmas jumper he was wearing with a giant teddy bear in the centre didn’t help things…) “He knows I’m starving. Been saving myself all day for this.”

You raised a judgemental eyebrow. “You didn’t even have breakfast?”

He looked at you, shooting you a quick wink. “I’m treating this buffet like it deserves to be treated. Like it’s my one and only.” At his side, Mina giggled.

“Let’s just open up,” Hoseok suggested, reaching for the handle of the conference door.

“No!” You exclaimed, standing in front of it.

You were all waiting around like a bunch of lemons, Seokjin having done a disappearing act just before the party was due to start. Jungkook had already tried to call him three times but his phone was engaged. Everyone was getting impatient, but he needed to be here to see everyone’s reactions to his decorating. He’d been in there all morning, blinds closed, not even you knew what it looked like in there.

“Y/N, come on,” Jungkook cried dramatically. “He won’t mind, let’s just get in there!”

“Fine,” you gave in, turning around to open up. You didn’t really have a choice, everyone was gearing up to trample you…

One look inside had you a little speechless. It was beautiful, the room decorated like Santa’s Grotto. Seokjin had done an amazing job, and you felt bad for ever doubting his skill. For ever doubting his sincerity when it came to planning this entire party…

“Oh, whoa,” Jungkook gasped behind you, sounding wholly surprised. “Jin did so well on the decorations.” You turned back to agree but saw him smirking. “You must be pissed.”

“Shut up,” you scoffed and immediately swatted his hand away from a tray of sandwiches. “No! You have to wait!”

Jungkook made a noise of agony, practically flaking out in one of the chairs. “I’m this close to passing out!”

You sighed at his dramatics. “I’ll go and look for him.” He can’t have gone far, surely? You pointed at everyone as you stepped out, expression stern. “No starting this party until I find him – and no eating food.”

Jungkook whimpered.

As you walked out of the office and down one flight of stairs you started to grow worried. What if something was wrong? Maybe there’d been an emergency and he’d had to leave…? Only, those thoughts didn’t have a chance to go too far as you spotted him almost immediately a little down the hallway. The second floor was unoccupied, most of the rooms either used for storage or ominously locked. He was stood with a shoulder against the wall, his back to you. The Santa’s hat he’d been wearing earlier was shoved into his back pocket. You’d caught him just in time, he was finishing up a phone call before staring at the screen, deep in thought it seemed.

You suddenly felt nervous… You hadn’t been alone together at all since this morning and you’d been slightly miserable ever since then. Ever since he’d shut down the conversation you so badly wanted. You caught him staring your way a few times, when he was coming in and out of the conference room mid decorating – or maybe he was catching you staring. Who knew anymore. Your head was a mess, confused and unexplainably disappointed.

But you needed to suck it up. There was a Christmas party to pull off, and it needed both its hosts…

“Seokjin?” You called, walking closer.

He turned around with a start, shoving his phone into his jeans pocket. “Oh, hey.”

You took a moment to admire his Christmas jumper – a dabbing Santa Claus, which was pretty 2016 now, but whatever. You were wearing one similar to the bauble he’d gifted you yesterday, a cat wearing a Christmas hat, but you’d paired it with a Mrs. Claus skirt you wore every year without fail. Oh. You suddenly remembered something. Seokjin telling you he had a whole drawer full of Christmas sweaters. The thought should’ve made you laugh but you were still so nervous. You heart felt a little funny as you stared up at him.

One thing was for certain, you didn’t think you could forget about the kiss.

Could you excuse yourself to run away and call Ana? But then there’d be zero hosts at the party and Jungkook would disintegrate from hunger… You needed to power on.

“Everyone’s wondering where you went,” you said, voice sounding strange as you spoke into the unsettling silence.

You really didn’t want things to be awkward. You would hate it so much. You understood you didn’t have the best of relationships, but it worked for you both. Now it could all be ruined, and you didn’t want that. You didn’t know what you wanted…

Seokjin hesitated before tapping his pocket. “Sorry, phone call. Some type of insurance sales shit.”

You nodded, unsure why you didn’t quite believe him, but chose to ignore it, giving him a short smile. “We should hurry up. Jungkook is salivating in there. He’s two seconds away from devouring the whole buffet.”

Seokjin chuckled lightly at that. “Expected. He’s been fasting since 7pm last night.”

Why didn’t that surprise you?

“He’s already forced his way inside. Sorry. I tried to hold them off for as long as possible.”

“That’s my own fault.” He shrugged, then gave you a gentle smile. “Thanks for trying.”

Your heart did a little flip. You tried to ignore it. “You did a great job on decorating by the way.”

“You sound surprised,” he teased. “How many times do I have to say I lo–

“You love Christmas, yes, okay, I believe you now.” You interrupted with a laugh. You remembered that from Saturday night, but you wanted to remember all of it.

You opened your mouth, you needed to tell him. You needed to tell him you didn’t want to forget. “Seokjin,” you began, unsure how to continue. You didn’t want to make a fool of yourself. However it seemed he had things to say himself…

“I lied.”

Huh?

His admission caught you off guard. He could probably tell by your face. He lifted a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, looking awkward. “I lied about the phone call. It was Yoongi. He was giving me a pep talk.”

“A pep talk?” You repeated, now aware you could hear your own heartbeat.

He took a step forward and let out a deep breath, gearing himself up. “I can’t stop thinking about last weekend, Y/N.” Your heart was thudding now. “I know I said we should forget about it but I can’t. You don’t remember it and I know you regret it and I’m sorry for,” he stopped to sigh in frustration. “I don’t know, I just feel really guilty. Because I really enjoyed kissing you.”

He was staring straight into your eyes, no more than a foot between you. He looked nervous and remorseful. You didn’t like it.

Firm, you held his gaze. “I don’t regret it.” That thought had never crossed your mind. Even through all the shock and mortification. Yes, your memories were extremely vague, but you didn’t regret the kiss. If anything you were curious. Even more curious now.

Seokjin paused, not expecting your reply, but he sounded hopeful. “You don’t?”

You shook your head. “I was embarrassed when you told me, yes, but that was because I thought I’d made a fool of myself – I mean, I still did, but if you enjoyed kissing me I guess it was worth it.”

Seokjin had enjoyed kissing you, and from your foggy memories, you’d enjoyed kissing him too. You smiled. It was contagious as he grinned your way too.

“You didn’t make a fool of yourself. At all.” He stressed. “Do you remember anything now?” He sounded concerned, still unsure how to go about this.

“Bits and pieces, yeah.” You admitted. “You got me a glass of water and then left…”

He looked guilty. “I lost myself a little, I admit, but I couldn’t let it happen. I couldn’t go through with it because you were so drunk and I was pretty sure you hated me and I could never take advantage of you like that.”

Your heart fluttered. Genuine Seokjin was dangerous for you. “I don’t hate you,” you told him pointedly, crossing your arms across your chest, the beginnings of a smirk itching to appear. “You annoy me to no end but that’s sort of your charm, I guess.”

He cocked an eyebrow, sensing the change in atmosphere as he asked smugly, “My charm?”

“Don’t ruin it,” you snipped, feeling brave as you stepped closer to him to tilt your head and run a hand down his chest – down the dabbing Santa… “So, you liked kissing me?”

He nodded enthusiastically, curiously watching your movements. “It felt good. And not just in my dick but like, everywhere.”

“Seokjin!” You exclaimed, rendered speechless.

“What?” He asked, eyes wide. He grabbed your hips pulling you closer and you couldn’t help but squeal, reaching for his shoulders. He felt good. Big and warm and familiar. “I’m trying to talk about my feelings here.”

He was teasing you, sure, but he was also telling the truth. You knew that. Feelings was a scary word, an uncertain word, but you thought you liked the way it made you feel. Maybe Ana was correct… Maybe a part of you did like Seokjin. It sure felt like it right now…

“Kiss me,” you whispered, gaze on his mouth before it flickered to his eyes. “I’m sober now and I want to see if I like it too.”

You already knew the answer. He did too by the smirk on his face, but he listened anyway, closing the distance between your mouths. His lips felt instantly familiar, making you feel at ease as they pressed into yours. Fluttering his eyes closed you followed suit and he moved gently, tentatively, as if he couldn’t believe it – as if he didn’t want to ruin anything. From the back of your mind vague memories started to wind their way forward, his kiss drawing them out.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, pressing your body into his ever so slightly with a soft sigh. The tip of his tongue found yours, hints of it joining each drag of his mouth and something lit up inside of you. So you were inevitably disappointed when he pulled back, giving your hips a soft squeeze.

“So?” He grinned.

You hummed out loud, running your fingers through the hair against the nape of his neck. He liked that. You remembered running them through his hair on the dancefloor, his hands on your body. Stomach doing somersaults, you wanted more – needed more. “Maybe a bit more tongue and I’ll give you an answer…”

He breathed out a shaky laugh and you thought he might hit back with something but there was no time for talking, not when he couldn’t bear to be away from your lips. Listening, he licked into your mouth, moving with a lot more confidence now. He held you tight before one of his hands came up to softly cup your cheek, the quietest of noises escaping his throat – showing just how much he was enjoying himself. You joined him, moaning gently into the kiss, your tongues untiring as the air around you shifted.

It was when your back hit the wall did you truly let yourself leave go, hands exploring the expanse of his back as he crowded you, humming greedily against your lips, his hands holding your face as if he couldn’t bear to leave you and come up for air. More memories fluttered their way past your eyelids, a lot more vivid now, Seokjin’s tongue beckoning them to the forefront of your mind.

You remembered your kiss was hot and heavy, up against your entry way wall. You had wanted him so bad in that moment and here wasn’t much different. It was like you had been thrown right back there – that eagerness, that want. The only reason you pulled away eventually was because you literally needed to breath. You didn’t fancy passing out, enjoying yourself way too much…

“I can’t believe you said to forget about this,” you managed to speak, breathless, lips wet and flush as you ran your hands across the broadness of his shoulders. God. You couldn’t stop touching him.

“I can’t believe you did forget about this,” he exclaimed. He was breathing heavy, just like at the club when you’d grinded all over him. Your memory was on your side now. All it had needed was a prod.

He did have you there. Your bad. But – “In my defence you supplied the tequila shots.” Although, you had suggested a second round…

He chuckled, leaning down to nip at your bottom lip. “Stop giving me attitude. It’s turning me on.”

You stomach flipped, your fingernails digging into the wool blend of his jumper as you held him to you. You wanted to kiss him for hours, because now that you’d started you didn’t want to stop.

“Should we head back now?” Seokjin asked against a curl of your tongue, one hand against the wall, the other stroking your jaw line. “They’re probably wondering where we both are.”

“In a moment,” you murmured, a hand of yours bravely dragging down his side. You hit the waistband of his jeans and curled a finger through a belt loop, nudging his crotch flush to yours. Your mouth did the rest of the talking. Sober you wanted what drunk you had missed out on.

“Fuck,” you heard him mutter, immediately understanding where you wanted this to lead. “Or we can just ditch those losers and go to my place?” He drew back to catch your reaction. “Your place?”

“We can’t do that.” As tempting as that sounded, you couldn’t not attend your own Christmas party you’d spent weeks organising. Seokjin was hot, but he wasn’t that hot. Plus, it would way too suspicious if you both just disappeared…

Seokjin agreed with a little sigh. “Yeah, you’re right.”

That didn’t mean you couldn’t think of other ideas though…

“What are you doing?” Seokjin asked, moving back slightly as you wrestled for your phone in your skirt pocket. He watched you search for Jungkook’s name in your phonebook – you were sure you still had his number from when you’d had to “mentor” him the first week he’d arrived. Success! You did! You hurriedly text him.

(13:31pm) You: I can’t find him. Start without us but LEAVE me some food

He replied immediately. He was probably withering away by now, the poor boy.

(13:32pm) Jungkook: Oh man Jin is so fucking dead (13:32pm) Jungkook: Tell him I love him before you stick the knife in 🤪 (13:32pm) You: Sure thing

You looked up at Seokjin and grinned. “Just bought us half an hour.”

He looked impressed, an eyebrow cocked as he regarded you. “What are we going to do in half hour? – and please don’t say kill me.”

You giggled – actually giggled. Damn him. You reached for his belt loop again, tugging it gently. “Whatever it is, we can’t do it out in the hallway.”

You were playing a very dangerous game here. Out in the open, at your place of work. The storeroom was probably an even sillier idea – but that’s where you ended up dragging him into, flipping on the light to save being surrounded in darkness. You were 99% sure the surveillance cameras didn’t work on this floor anyway, so…

“You’re crazy,” he laughed weakly in disbelief, stumbling over an (empty) mop bucket as he went to reach for you.

“And you love it,” you smirked against his mouth, your arms wrapping around his neck.

The urge took over again, now in the privacy of the storage cupboard you were free to do whatever you liked. Seokjin grew hard against you quickly, your mouths locked together in haste as his palms felt up your ass. It wasn’t long before he picked you up, your legs wrapping around his middle as he continued to kiss you greedily against the wall. His hands slipped under your skirt, cupping your ass and you tried to circle your hips as best you could, feeling his erection through the layers of your tights and underwear, both of you straining out moans and grunts.

“I’m having déjà vu,” he grinned, lowering his mouth to nip at your neck. You gasped, pushing into him and he took the opportunity to begin to kiss your throat. Just like last time… Déjà vu, indeed.

Breaking away he looked between your bodies, the band of white wool along your skirt protecting your modesty, but only just. “You weren’t dressed as Mrs. Claus though.” He sunk his teeth into your neck once more, a little harder this time and you jerked, yelping as you squeezed the tops of his arms. He liked that reaction, licking a broad strip up the column of your throat, getting you all kinds of wet and sticky.

No doubt between your legs matched. You were hot, and impatient, and Seokjin’s mouth was evil. Especially when he lifted his head, dark fringe in his eyes, and smirked at you. Fuck, you really wanted him. Your heart was doing somersaults.

“A fucking sexy Mrs. Claus.”

You immediately rolled your eyes. Why was he ruining it? You were not about to partake in some sordid Christmas roleplay fantasy of his… “Just shut up and kiss me.”

He didn’t really feel like answering back.

A few minutes later you were placed back on the floor, your legs a little shaky as you clung to him, mouths still unrelenting. You were both heavy breathed and burning with desire. He pinned you to the wall with his thigh, separating your legs and giving you something else to grind against as his lips trailed the expanse of your throat, his fingers digging into the meat of your ass so hard you wouldn’t be surprised if he teared your hosiery.

You were weak, slick against your underwear and desperate for some sort of release. Seokjin panted against your ear. “Do you remember what you said that night?” Moaning was all you could give in reply. “You wanted my dick. You were begging for it.”

Hearing him speak like that drove you wild. “Mmhm. Remind me.” You could vaguely remember, too pent up to get embarrassed.

He moved his thigh, pressing his crotch flush to yours and hooked a finger under your chin, lifting your face so he could kiss you again. You could feel his erection and unable to hold off any longer you reached between you and wrapped your hand around him. You could recall doing this before, Seokjin stopping you, but this time he did no such thing. Instead, he pushed into your touch, his voice thick with something that made you shiver as he spoke.

“You drive me crazy… Every god damn day…”

Your mind was a little too preoccupied to truly concentrate on his words but they seemed to stir something inside of you. Nudge something that had been forgotten. You couldn’t place it, but it had to do with last weekend. Something he’d said to you… before he’d kissed you… You couldn’t remember but the faintest of memories made you glow.

“W-we should really just head to my place,” Seokjin stammered slightly, keening into your touch. You were sure his thighs were trembling, all the blood in his dick turning him weak.

“There’s no need,” you breezed, and before you could take a moment to reconsider you were dropping to your knees.

“Fuck, what are you doing?” He was practically beside himself, fingers digging into your shoulders as he watched you reach for the buttons on his jeans.

“What do you think?”

He sighed exhaustedly, a red flush beginning to travel its way up his neck, peeking above the collar of his sweater. “You’re trying to kill me.”

Whatever he’d been expecting to happen in here hadn’t been you sucking his dick, you could tell. You took great pleasure in that. It was fun getting this kind of reaction from him. Truth was, when the mood struck, the mood struck, and you wanted him – badly.

He watched you unbutton him, his black underwear coming into view – Calvin Klein, the band told you, and above that, where his jumper had ridden up, you could see a sliver of smooth tan skin – You just knew he was hiding a great body under there, but now wasn’t the time for stripping. You needed to be quick.

You tugged his jeans down a little past his hips, enough for easy access. “You really want to kill–ughgh –!”

He broke off with a surprised moan, your hand reaching inside his boxers to pull out his dick. Wrapping your palm around the base you gripped automatically, staring at what you could only describe as his third leg, with a slack jaw. “Of course you have a fucking massive dick,” you muttered, feeling a little unnerved.

Surprise immediately dissipating, Seokjin gave you a smirk. “That obvious, huh?”

You breathed heavily through your nose, beginning to run your fist along his length on instinct. It was a good looking dick, you’d give him that. Tense at your sudden movements, Seokjin soon eased up, watching you carefully. You looked up at him, giving him a tiny, slightly shy smile… There really was no going back now. Not that you wanted to. Things had changed and they were going to change even more after this…

“Come on,” he murmured, a hand reaching out to stroke your cheek. His voice sounded dangerous, low and honeyed as he gazed at you on your knees for him. “Suck it like I know you want to…”

You scoffed, although surely he could see the effect he had on you. You weren’t bluffing anybody, not even yourself. “Don’t rush me.”

Seokjin looked amused, but that soon changed when you swiped your tongue across the head of his cock in one fluid and determined motion. His knees pretty much buckled, a hand reaching for the side of your head, his fingers weaving into your hair. You chuckled a little mischievously, your lips wrapped around him, knowing the vibrations would fuck with his head some more. Seokjin laughed stiffly along, knowing what you were up to – knowing you loved having this sort of effect on him – but it sounded strained, wavering in the middle as his eyes locked with yours, the veins in his neck beginning to bulge with the strain.

You moved, wrapping your lips around him further, your tongue washing against the hot skin and he stumbled forward a little, a grunt slipping from his mouth. That fuelled you, slipping him deeper, your tongue tracing patterns along the underside before you pulled back and repeated. You weren’t kidding when you said he had a massive dick, it was almost daunting, but you found a way around it, massaging your fist along the base of him in time with your mouth until you found a confident rhythm.

“Oh, fuck.”

That boosted your ego too, taking great pleasure in the way you seemed to have stunned Seokjin into more or less complete silence. He wasn’t very cocky right now, was he? If you had known sucking his dick would shut him up, you’d have done it long ago – or maybe that was your own horniness talking… Who knew right now.

You popped off him, running your palm wider, further along to circle over the head, your saliva acting as lubrication, quiet squelching noises slipping from between your fingers. You smirked up at him, “Am I still boring?”

It took him a moment to process your question, his body hunched, surrendering to the pleasure, and you admired the way his lips parted, each breath audible as he stared down at you, dark eyes glazed over. God, he was hot. How had you been so unbothered by him for so long?

Shaking his head, he halfway came to. “Sucking my dick in a storeroom, can’t get any wilder than this. Well done, you proved me wrong.”

That was nice to hear. You liked it when he was wrong, mainly because you loved being right. You wrapped your free hand around the top of his thigh, needing the support as you took his dick in your mouth again. Feeling ambitious you willed yourself to relax as you eased along him, taking him deeper, beginning to bob back and forth, the faintest of noises escaping the back of your throat.

It drove him crazy, his head falling back as he whined. “If this is all just to prove a point and you stop before I cum, I’m going to cry like a motherfucking baby.”

You tried to laugh but ended up choking, gagging on his cock – unflattering surely, but he seemed to love it, his eyes flashing as he cupped your hand that gripped his girth, gently pulling it away to place on his other thigh. He didn’t want his view obstructed he watched. Besides, you didn’t need your hand as a safety net anymore anyway…

“Fu-ck, you look so good sucking my dick,” he awed, his voice hoarse. He tightened the hold he had on your hair, the fingers of his other hand brushing rouge strands out of your face. You looked up at him, mouth stuffed and he smirked. It made your core pulse. “On your knees. You couldn’t get down there quick enough.”

A moan slipped from your throat, pulsating against his cock. Of course the guy had a filthy mouth, it should’ve been obvious. What was shocking though, was the effect it had on you. Dirty talk was cringeworthy in your eyes, not many men could pull it off – not even Namjoon – but words like that coming from Seokjin?! You were sure you’d just freshly drenched your underwear. It would surely be a slip ‘n’ slide down there when he finally got his hands on you – If he got his hands on you. Fuck, he better.

A nudge of his hips cut short your momentary distraction, realising that Seokjin was beginning to thrust ever so slightly into your mouth. He noticed your attention on him and asked hesitantly, “This okay?”

“Mhmmhmm,” you hummed, gurgling a little which seemed to drive him a little crazy. You let him take control, concentrating on breathing through your nose and pleasuring him with your tongue as he gently fucked your mouth.

You were losing your mind, hazy pleasure blurring your vision and clouding your thoughts. Rationality was out the window long ago, all that you knew was the red, hot want you had for him. The Christmas party and the fact you were risking your job right now didn’t come into play, all you cared about was chasing that desire.

Looking up at Seokjin you noticed his eyes were closed now, his chin tilted towards the ceiling, expression contorted with pleasure as the quietest of moans escaped his throat with each rugged breath he took. You pulsed down below, only this time the urge burned its way up your body, getting hotter as he quickened his motions, seemingly losing himself, seemingly pursuing his end.

He pulled back abruptly during one withdraw, breath shaky as he kept the tip of his cock inside your mouth, as if he couldn’t bear to be apart from the warm wetness. You sucked firmly, catching his gaze and he just about lost it, eyes rolling into the back of his skull.

“Shit,” he cursed, ever so slightly nudging further into you, edging himself almost. You darted the tip of your tongue along his slit, earning yourself a soft hiss. His thighs were trembling, you could feel the vibrations under your palm and his neck was thick and tense with strain, patched red, as he tried his might to gain some control over the pleasure you were giving him. “J-Just checking, there’s no chance we’ll have sex in here, right?”

His voice trembled too, all light and airy and so unlike his voice that you were familiar with. His eyes were blow wide as he gaped down at you, his lips plumper than you’d ever seen them before. He was beautiful. Damn, you really wanted to kiss him again…

You slid away, cupping your hand around his dick to jerk him off ever so slowly, a couple of inches along the base. He was more than slick now, coated in your spit, flesh veiny and angry red. Shifting on your knees, ignoring the cricks to power on through, you shrugged. “Not unless you carry condoms with you at work.”

He pondered for a moment. “I can’t say I do.” That caused you to chuckle, leaning in to curl your tongue against the side of his cock. He startled, a loud moan escaping that was surely unnecessary, but it did wonders for your ego.

He tightened his hold on your head, angling you to the tip of his dick, desperate to get back into your warmth. “So you won’t be disappointed when I inevitably bust a nut?”

You raised an eyebrow, his cock drawing translucent patterns against your lips as you replied. “That’s why I’m down here.”

He whimpered, the sheer thought of coming exciting him further. You slipped him back inside, feeling him grip his fingers into your hair, anchoring himself – and you, in preparation.

“Oh, ffuck,” he muttered, watching you begin to meet every thrust his hips gave you. You were determined, eager for him to cum. You hadn’t sucked dick in so long but now you were in your element, each reaction from Seokjin, no matter how small, encouraging you. The fact he was hiding a foot long in his pants was now no issue at all. You were a pro, just like in all aspects of life.

A strange sound left the back of Seokjin’s throat, almost as if he was getting strangled and his shoulders slumped, the rest of him growing stiff. “Where am I doing this?” He asked weakly. “Y/N?” He demanded pretty shrilly when you didn’t reply.

You weren’t relenting, somehow pushing him deeper into your mouth and down your throat and he groaned loudly, blunt nails digging into your scalp. “You want me to cum down your throat?”

Ding Ding. Clever Seokjin.

You nodded widely around his girth, gagging a little a process, but this time you owned it. He loved it.

“Fuck.” He grunted, spreading his feet a little, planting himself to the tiles. “You really want my fucking cum.”

You moaned, sending a fire of vibrations up his dick and you knew you had him. His hips stilled almost instantly, his cock rammed inside your mouth and you readjusted, using your tongue to coax his release. He came with a deep exhale like moan, stumbling forward with a surprised grunt as one of his hands reached out to slam into the wall behind you. You held him steady with your hands flat against his thighs, swallowing his cum down quickly because you definitely had a love hate relationship with the stuff. Dealt with swiftly, you more than welcomed it.

Seokjin softly chuckled down at you as he fell from your mouth, now well on his way to growing flaccid and eased off as you straightened your back and made motions to stand (on shaky legs). He tucked himself back inside his underwear, the snap of the waistband making you flutter. Flutter where you wanted him to touch the most.

You felt warmth as he hooked a hand around your hip, pulling you to him with a bashful grin. “That was worth getting fired for.”

You giggled, wiping the sides of your mouth with the back of your hand before cupping the back of his neck, dragging him closer as you backed up against the wall. You liked when he crowded around you, liked feeling him against your body. Your body that was screaming for him right now…

“No one’s getting fired,” you reassured, voice a murmur and then either you or he connected your mouths again. Couldn’t tell who – it was probably both of you. It was amusing that you were the one assuring him, Miss. Uptight who worried about every single little thing. He was the one was supposed to be carefree, yet this had all been your idea.

Your hand dragged down his chest, feeling the hardness of his pecs, and for a split second you thought about taking him up on the offer of ditching the party and driving to his place. You wanted to get him naked, wanted to see what you could feel, and you really wanted to fuck him. Yet, you knew it was a bad idea. Even worse than sucking dick on the second floor of the office building. Possibly.

“How long do you think we have before they throw a search party?” Seokjin asked, cupping your face with one hand as the other snaked down to your ass.

“We still have time.”

You and Seokjin were always at one another’s throats, no one would guess you were actually getting it on directly underneath them… You were positive.

“Hm. Enough for me to return the favour?” He contemplated.

You made a noise of agreement, nodding eagerly as you stretched for his mouth, unable to just. Stop. Kissing. Him.

It turned hot and heavy immediately, decision now made, and you grasped at one another, kissing wildly. “I love touching you,” he grunted against your tongue, hands gripping anything he could. You had to agree, especially his shoulders. You’d never felt anything like them in your entire life, no wonder he had the upper body strength to hold you up. He was big. Big big, and it was driving you crazy.

“This ass,” he growled, pulling away from your lips as both hands cupped the rounds of flesh, giving them a very keen and firm squeeze. Skirt bunched up at your hips he had the perfect access. You moaned, the heat between your bodies becoming unbearable and you nearly collapsed into him when one of his hands found its way to your core, cupping the sensitive flesh hesitantly. That was until he felt how soaked you were. It had seeped through your underwear, dampening your tights. It felt heavy and uncomfortable but you guessed that was soon to change now that he’d gotten his hands on you…

“So fucking wet,” he purred, dropping his height a little to meet your eyes. His fingers slipped inside your panties, his index and middle finger running along your folds before a knuckle found your clit, your hips bucking. He rubbed the bundle of nerves rather lightly, but it was enough. You were beside yourself, any pleasure, however slight, blowing your mind. You moaned sweetly, hot air puffing against Seokjin’s lips. He smirked. “Someone’s very responsive.”

“Please,” you moaned, however you weren’t too sure what you needed to beg for.

He loved it though, smirking wider. “There she is.”

“Please, Seokjin,” you repeated, clutching to the neck of his sweater. Hazy memories of last weekend drifted into the forefront of your mind. Begging him for his dick. Sadly, you couldn’t have that right now, but there was always second best.

Leaning in as if to kiss you he pulled back last minute, a teasing lilt to his tone as he asked you a question. “What do you want, baby?”

You moaned again, the pet name not so bad after all and pressed into his touch, the headiness in his voice making you tremble with need. Your answer was simple. “Your fingers.”

Seokjin wasted no time, yanking his hand away to tug at your hosiery. They didn’t budge, so he moved his other hand from your ass to help. Maybe the light sheen of sweat that painted your skin had stuck tight the nylon – or maybe he was just useless…

“What the hell are these?” He huffed, clearly impatient.

“Stop, you’re going to rip them,” you told him off. All you needed was to walk back inside the office with laddered tights… How very unsuspicious…

“They’re dumb.”

“I’m sorry,” you exclaimed, “wasn’t expecting us to be getting it on today.”

Seokjin paused what he was doing to shoot you a look of sheer judgement. “Getting it on?”

“Shut up,” you grumbled. Yes, maybe your choice of words were lame, but it still stood. You were getting it on right now!

He laughed and tugged at the waistband one last time, finally succeeding but also yanking down your underwear in the process.

“Let me see you,” he strained out, gripping your hips and you had no time to feel embarrassed by your sudden waist-down nakedness. His eyes drunk up your soaked core, before he looked up at your face again, his right hand reaching for you, each brush of his fingertips turning you boneless. “Fuck. You have the best pussy I’ve ever seen.”

He was kissing you again, pushing you further into the wall. Pussy. Under all circumstances that word was just yuck, but once again, coming from Seokjin it didn’t seem so bad anymore. It made your core leap, but that might have been something to do with the way he was nestling a deft, long finger inside of you. Your walls clenched around the intrusion as you moaned into his mouth and you gripped at his shoulders, rolling your hips as he started to curl the digit against your warmth.

Ever so carefully he added a second finger, the burn easing quickly as pleasure took over. His thumb rubbed messy circles against your clit, your arousal beginning to squelch audibly inside the small room. You hooked your arms around his neck instead, pulling him closer and he grunted into your mouth, sounding unlike himself.

“Seokjin–!” You mewled, falling from his mouth to catch your breath.

“Yeah, me,” he smirked, his free had rubbing small circles into your hip as he continued to give you what you wanted. “I love it when you say my name.” His lips landed on your throat and you pushed your head to the side, pretty sure you were moaning too loudly now but the stimulation was too good to ignore. You grew wetter. His fingers easily sliding in and out of you as he started to finger you quicker, the lewd squelching sticking inside your ears.

“You’re soaked, Y/N. Did I do this?” He murmured against your ear before nibbling your lobe. You shuddered. “Sucking my dick made you so horny.” The hand on your hip slid to your ass, and he squeezed the meat hard, using it as leverage to go even faster. You squeezed around his fingers tightly, crying out.

But then there was nothing but emptiness as he pulled them out, making you gasp out in shock. He looked playfully smug. “What’s up? Lost your voice?”

This fucker. Jungkook was right, you were going to murder him. Only not for going AWOL but for not giving you the orgasm you craved. Seokjin’s wet hand massaged the inside of your thigh, and you squeezed your legs together trying your best to ease the tension that was building up.

“Seokjin, don’t fuck around.” You told him sternly, although your voice was anything but calm.

“Am I fucking around?” He asked, grinning from ear to ear as he lowered his shoulders and stole another look at your needy heat. Something inside him changed then, as he let out a curse. “Shit. I wanna taste you.” His eyes pleaded with you. “Can taste you?”

You were nodding before you realised, although you weren’t about to say please again –

you didn’t want to give him the satisfaction. Instead you exhaled out a shaky yes.

Squatting immediately he pulled the nylon passed your knees, lifting a foot to slip off one of your heels, the leg of your hosiery following soon after. You wobbled as he raised your foot higher and you reached out for his shoulders to steady yourself.

“I got you,” he reassured. “I just need to spread you a little.” Hooking your foot on the bottom shelf of the cabinet next to you, your legs widened, giving him perfect access to where you needed him the most. “There,” he said, looking pleased with himself.

His gaze soon darkened when he got a look at you and you braced yourself against the wall as he stalked nearer, a palm cupping your thigh before he followed the curve with his mouth, kissing his way closer and closer to your core. You groaned softly when his lips parted around your clit, warmth flooding you, slowly inking its way through your veins and darting his tongue out he brushed it against you slowly, repeating with the same rhythm until you were squirming, a hand reaching for his hair just for something to grip.

He sped up, learning what your body liked quickly, dropping to one knee to sink further into you. You moaned pretty loudly when you felt his fingers press against your entrance, slipping inside, and you took him greedily and nosily, pushing into his tongue that had now curled around your clit as he sucked softly.

You fell to pieces. Fingernails dragging along his scalp as you tugged at his hair. Which he seemed to love, by the way. If his grunting was anything to go by, his movements more determined, firmer. Each time he sucked, point of his tongue flicking against you, you lost it a bit more, gasping out in pleasure. Boy knew how to use his mouth, you were pleasantly surprised.

He pulled back, his breath a little ragged and replaced his tongue with the pad of his thumb, rubbing tight, firm circles against your sticky clit. “You like getting your clit sucked. Noted.” He grinned, sending your stomach flipping. His mouth and chin were covered in your arousal, which he made no attempt to clean off. In fact, he went immediately back for seconds, licking a wide strip up your whole core, noises of satisfaction leaving him.

“God, Seokjin,” you murmured weakly, dizzy and trembling. If he kept this up you were going to cum very soon. Especially with the way his fingers caressed your insides, pressing deep until he hit something that had you yelping.

He looked triumphant as he dropped to both knees now, looking up at you, watching your reaction as he repeatedly curled against your g-spot. You squirmed around, pleasure becoming a little unbearable but oh, so addictive.

“So, no one ends up fucking at the office Christmas party, huh?” He asked nonchalantly. This fucker was really having a casual conversation with you as he tried to bring you to your knees. By his smug grin, he knew what he was doing.

Well, not on your watch.

You bit back a moan, and shrugged, trying your best to sound normal. “We’re not going all the way so technically, that still stands.”

He laughed loudly, genuinely amused, but his fingers had other ideas. He pulled out halfway, straightening his digits to fuck into you – hard. You choked out, feeling him slowly withdraw, letting you catch your breath before he repeated. And repeated. And repeated…

You were close to seeing stars, the moans rolling freely from your mouth as you clung to his hair. He was evil. “Seok–oh, shit,” you cursed, feeling him deep inside you yet again. “Seokjinnn.”

“What is it, babe?” He asked, acting oblivious. At the name you clenched around his soaked fingers. “I knew you loved it when I called you that.” You didn’t have time to chew him out because his tongue was washing against your clit again, curling around it, prodding it, sucking it… Your eyes rolled back, a thin sheen of sweat coating your neck and chest, and you knew you weren’t long for this world. You were ten seconds away from becoming a puddle on the floor.

“Gonna cum, baby?” You squeezed around his fingers again, clit pulsing against his tongue. “You love that too.” You could feel his shit eating grin against you but didn’t care.

“Don’t stop,” you demanded, out of breath.

“Not planning on it,” he affronted, licking up your folds once again. You gasped loudly, clenching your eyes tightly closed. You were hanging over the pinnacle, just a little more and you’d fall. You were this close to coming and you might explode in the process.

“I’m going to make this pussy cum so good. So fucking good,” Seokjin almost goaded, which was in fact, what pushed you over the edge. You came with a loud, strained cry, white hot pleasure that exploded behind your eyelids.

He made sure to rinse you for all you were worth, until you were writhing out of his grip, your grasp on his hair easing and then he was jumping to his feet, his mouth suddenly on yours with a grunt, kissing you like crazy. You couldn’t tell who was out of breath more.

“Tonight.” He announced ferociously. “Tonight. Please come over and let me fuck you.”

You moaned at the thought, your tongues turning messy as you tried to concentrate and form words. “My place. I live alone. We can be as loud as we like.”

Five minutes later you were back in your tights, knees wobbling together as you tried to slip into your shoe. There wasn’t time for more chitchat – or kissing, you needed to get back to the office before someone came looking for you both.

“So does that mean you forgive me over Rosal & Steinar?” Seokjin asked curiously, still fairly out of breath. He’d wiped his mouth now, in attempt to clean himself up, but his bangs were slightly kinked, forehead shiny and his cheeks were very much still red.

You turned to him and smirked. “Another orgasm and maybe.”

He chuckled. “I’m positive that can be arranged.” You didn’t doubt it. “No, but really,” he carried on, taking you by surprise when he clasped your hand, rooting you to the spot. “You know I had to do it, right? I felt terrible but there weren’t many options.”

His eyes pooled with sincerity and you found yourself softening, growing touched. It was nice to know he hadn’t done it out of spite – although why he would have seemed pretty ludicrous to believe now… No, you’d just been bitter.

“I know, Seokjin,” you smiled, giving his hand a squeeze. “I’ve forgotten about it.” He looked a little sceptical. “I forgive you,” you insisted with a laugh. It was either he closed the deal or they found another company… They were legitimately the only two options. You got it.

He returned your smile, finally accepting your reassurance, and you tugged at his hand, opening the storeroom door. You needed to leave. Now.

But –

Turning back at him over your shoulder, you shot him a playful grin. “Doesn’t mean I won’t steal them back next year though.”

His eyes widened in surprise before they lit up, his laughter loud down the empty hallway.

“Game on, baby.”

“Do I look acceptable?”

You and Seokjin were mere inches from the door leading into the office, your whispers nervous as you hesitated about going inside. You needed to get your best lying face on. ASAP.

“Hang on,” you said, reaching up to adjust his Santa’s hat. The flush on his face had paled, thankfully. “There we go. What about me?”

“Hm.” He pondered, cupping your face to stare down at you, worrying you actually. “I still think we look like we were giving mad head in the storeroom.”

“Stop,” you groaned, pulling away from him as you realised he was only teasing. You were still pretty sticky downstairs, but you were sure you looked visibly presentable. “You’re going to make it obvious.”

Finally plucking up the courage, you pushed the door open and stepped inside, Seokjin following. Your Christmas playlist grew louder instantly and of course, the first person you saw was Jungkook, ass perched on your desk for some reason, snacking on a bowl of olives. He popped them like they were grapes. He better not have dripped olive oil over your keyboard, you’d kill him.

“Ah, look who turned up to their own party,” he exclaimed, standing up. He dropped the bowl right next to your desktop and wiped his fingers into his jeans, striding towards you both.

You took a deep breath and went for that Oscar. “Blame Seokjin,” you fumed.

“Where the hell did you disappear to?” He laughed, directing his question to Seokjin who stood behind you still.

“I, uh... I...”

You rolled your eyes inwardly. If he fucked this up, well then, he wasn’t fucking you tonight…

“I went to grab a cake.”

A fucking cake. He’d walked in empty handed. Great white lie there, Seokjin…

Jungkook looked back and forth between you, his face contorting in confusion. “So... Where is the cake?”

“Uh.”

You needed to save this idiot. “Dummy forgot to order it,” you sneered, walking past Jungkook to grab the bowl of olives.

“Hey,” Seokjin exclaimed, sounding way too offended for it to be acting, just as Jungkook burst into laughter. You didn’t know what Seokjin expected, he’d walked straight into that one.

“I really thought she’d killed you,” Jungkook told his friend, whacking his shoulder. Seokjin’s eyes widened in warning, a hand coming out to karate slice the younger guy’s neck.

“I went easy on him,” you grinned, stopping them before they started wrestling for real. “– Y’know, Christmas spirit and all that.”

That caught Seokjin’s attention. You looked at one another properly for the first time since you’d stepped inside. Eyebrows raised he looked entertained. “You went easy on me?”

“Yup,” you nodded, unable to hide your smirk.

His expression changed for a split second, a glimmer in his eyes that made you mildly feverish at the thought of him getting his hands on you later on.

“Duly noted,” was all he replied, and you shared a smile before Jungkook interrupted.

“I saved you both some food. Come on,” he motioned with his hand.

“Thanks, JK,” Seokjin bellowed, clapping his back.

You followed behind them, nerves easing up. “Yeah, thanks, Jungkook.”

If anything, Seokjin was the one who got grilled the most during the rest of the party, he had been the one to disappear after all, so it was fun watching him squirm as Hoseok demanded answers. He looked a right fool for “forgetting” to order a cake, but he’d brought it all on himself so you couldn’t feel too sorry for him…

He was also risking a lot when he felt up your ass as you were finding his stupid Secret Santa gift in your desk drawer, ready to exchange with everyone. You straightened up immediately, pushing his hand away just in case anyone noticed – Mina was literally a desk away from you, although she was too busy giggling at Jungkook who was acting up on the karaoke machine to notice anything.

Seokjin winked as you glared at him. “Can’t wait for tonight.”

You pointed your index finger between his eyes. “Behave or I’ll cancel.”

But, you both knew you were just talking shit…

Written 2020 - 2021. Please refrain from posting my work elsewhere. No translations allowed. © floralseokjin 2021

#seokjin fanfic #bts fanfic #seokjin smut #bts smut #jin smut #jin fanfic #floralseokjin:writings #fic:final sleigh

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lady-literature · 3 years

Text

no point wishing on stars

aka the jasonette aladdin au literally no one asked for

This is a great big amalgamation of semi-canon miraculous, batman and a heavy dose of bastardized Aladdin but here we go-

The story goes like this:

Jason is our beloved street rat turned prince Boy Wonder and billionaire’s son (not that he’s gotten that far yet).

Marinette is Ladybug, is the Guardian, is our modern-day Jasmine. She’s next in line after Fu to lead the Order, which, I suppose, is like High Royalty for superheroes/magic users.

But before she can take her rightful place, she needs a partner by her side. It’s so stupid rule that says she, as a Ladybug, needs a Black Cat by her side in order to be properly balanced.

The only problem is, she doesn’t want one. Or, well. More accurately, it’s that she doesn’t like the ones offered to her, and she doesn’t quite like the idea of being tied to someone she barely knows, especially not at fourteen.

There have been many Black Cat candidates to cross her path but there has been only one she did not immediately veto. Adrien Agreste may be a Black Cat, but he cannot be hers. He will never be anything more than her dearest brother, and that is not what Creation needs.

Creation and Destruction—life and death—have a certain type of relationship. They are lovers, mated and married in every meaning of the word.

And, for as much as she loves and adores Adrien as her brother in her soul, they will never be like that. She will never want him the way she must should he take up Destruction.

So yeah. Marinette has a problem. And yeah, she has some time to figure it out, but the Order is looking to have her figure it out sooner rather than later. Adrien is a good place holder for now, but if Marinette doesn’t choose a Black Cat by the time she’s twenty-one, Adrien will either have to do, or she forfeits her crown and the Ladybug miraculous (which she would never do, she loves her people and Tikki too much to ever do that).

(wait? Does this mean I made Adrien the human equivalent of Raja?… yes. Yes it does.)

And, to spice this up just a bit more, let’s say Hawkmoth is Jafar, yeah? This little shit is really trying to push his son to be the next Black Cat because he wants power what’s best for his son. So he be out here sabotaging potential Black Cats because he’s an asshole his son is the best candidate at the moment. He could give less than two shits about if Mari and Adrien actually like each other that way, he will shove his son at her until she has no choice but to choose him.

Anyway, so Mari leaves the temple one day. Which is fine, she’s not trapped there or anything, she can come and go as she pleases! (she may have to normally take someone with her and is currently ignoring that rule perhaps, but that’s besides the point!)

So she’s at a market in Gotham, strolling down the street, having a good time enjoying being around normal people, when she notices a boy getting into some trouble.

(I’ll give you three guesses as to who it is and the first two don’t count.)

Jason was stealing from market vendors because the hubbub of the street is distracting and nicking a few scraps here and there is practically child’s play. Only, he miscalculates.

One vendor was paying more attention than he thought.

Mari’s across the street and sees the whole thing. Sees the vendor grab Jason’s hand in a bruising grip and snarl in his face.

She’s in between the pair before she even realizes it, mouth already opening around some made-up story about ill-advised dares and how ‘it won’t happen again, sir’ and ‘here, I’ll pay for that right now, no harm done!’

Jason stares at her utterly baffled and, thankfully, silent until after she’d already grabbed his hand and pulled him away.

Only, she pulls him away down the wrong alley. (Look. Mari’s a real sweet-talker and knows how to smooth ruffled feathers, but she is hardly street smart.)

Jason swears, and it’s the first words she’s heard him speak, and then it’s him tugging her along. Up a fire escape and over the rooftops because Jason likes to think he’s tough, but there’s no way he’s picking a fight with five guys bigger than him and wearing masks.

He likes to keep his heart beating more than he wants to keep his pride unharmed thank you very much.

They end up on a rooftop, panting and like, seven blocks away. Marinette is now very lost and with a strange boy who she doesn’t know. He seems… nice, and she’s a good judge of character, but that doesn’t mean much when they’re still very much strangers.

But then the two just look at each other and suddenly they’re both laughing.

And that, my friends, is the start of a beautiful friendship.

***

During those first few months, she and Jason just seem to click.

Mari starts leaving the temple more and more to meet up with Jason, and on more than one occasion dragging behind her a picnic basket bigger than her. (it’s stupid to let one of her friends starve just because he’s too prideful to take her food. So she plans lots of picnics for them both, and pointedly ignores the way he eats and hoards most of the food she brings.)

He is her friend—though she would be lying if she said she didn’t like him a bit more than what one would consider friendly.

And Jason, who is funny and kind and made sharp by the life he’s been forced into, likes her right back. She is one of the few great parts of his life, a bright spot in the darkness he has called his world for so long, and there are few things he wouldn’t do for her.

It’s… scary—just a bit—how important she is to him.

He tries not to think about it too much.

And it doesn't really matter anyway, because she is good and bright and amazing and he is… there’s nothing he can give her in return. Nothing good, anyway.

She deserves someone better. Someone who could buy her things as pretty as her and take her nice places.

Someone who isn’t a street rat.

And then he learns she’s Ladybug, right up there with Wonder Woman and Robin and all the other amazing people set on saving the world, and he feels he got that much farther from her. How can he ever compare?

Jason doesn’t wish, because wishing is childish and he learned too young that shooting stars don’t exist and he’s come to terms with the fact that this is his life years ago, all right? He doesn't need the burden of hope to weigh him down now.

(but perhaps, deep down, tucked away in the corner of his heart, there might be a thought. Small and scared and aching, he might think, ‘if only I could be there with her, if only i could fly with her, maybe then I’d be enough’)

Six months after he meets Marinette, Jason comes across the Batmobile.

His first thought is, this can’t be real.

His second is, I could buy Mari a real birthday gift with this.

His third thought is less of a thought because he’s already got two tires off by that point and then suddenly Batman is there and Jason is swinging his tire iron.

This then leads—somehow—to him winding up at Wayne Manor with Bruce Wayne and then he learns about Batman and Robin and he gets to be Robin and-

(and what else is a Robin meant to do but fly?)

It’s too good to be true. Wishes don’t come true and good things don’t happen to him unless their name be Marinette but… but Jason’s here and it’s not a dream. He’s no prince but, well… he thinks this might just be as close as you can get.

And, okay. He really does try with the whole secrecy thing, because he can understand why that’s important but, I mean… it’s Marinette, who is Ladybug. There really was never any chance of Jason keeping that particular secret, Batman or no Batman.

And about,,, two years pass like this ig. Mari is almost seventeen now, and Jason turned seventeen recently and the pair are getting closer and closer every day. They’re toeing the line of ‘more than friends’ but neither have really taken that next step.

The pressure is on Mari from the Order because she’s getting older and as much as she likes Jason, knows him but he isn’t a good candidate for Destruction and Mari must think of her people first.

Jason doesn’t get to be hers to keep and that aches but what else is she meant to do? She cannot—does not—want to change him in any way. So they stay, in their strange little limbo, with neither making a move.

And then, the unthinkable happens.

Hawkmoth hears of the boy finally, and is, obviously, furious.

He doesn't care if this boy can be a Cat or not, he’s going to ruin all his plans. So, there’s only one solution. He needs to get rid of him.

(i’ll give you three guesses as to how and the first two don’t count!)

Robin—Jason—dies, and Marinette feels when he does. She doesn’t know why or what happened, but the moment he leaves the world her blood turns cold and she feels sick.

Jason hasn’t even looked at the ring and already Marinette could feel the thread that had begun to tie them together. When she hears of his death—when she learns that he’s gone—Marinette shatters.

She shatters and cries and the world tips just a little, with the force of her sorrow, with the agony of her screams.

(justice is blind, yes, but is she deaf? Can she deny the sobbing of such a being as Creation herself? Can she stand, unfeeling, before the agony she has wrought?)

Marinette does not bring Jason back to life… but she has done something close. Has opened the possibility. Is, perhaps, the reason that six months later he screams and claws and drags himself from his own grave.

He is wrong wrong wrong, but he is also alive.

The league finds him, as they must. And Talia throws him into the pits, as she must. And Jason is reborn, screaming and angry and violent, as he must.

Marinette had known, Before, that Jason would not be a good match for the ring. He was tough and wild and willing to get his hands dirty if that’s what it took, but that was not what his core was. He was familiar with the rust and decay of back alley streets, but that wasn’t where he belonged. He would throw a punch but he didn’t relish the blood on his knuckles after a fight.

Jason was surrounded by destruction, but that’s not what he was.

Now… now the destruction he spent so long dancing with has slipped through the cracks in his mind left behind by the explosion. It ripped through his skin and slithered through into his veins until it settled in his heart like an overly smug cat.

Death and Destruction are inside him, woven in his ribcage and fusing with his blood, pumping pumping pumping its deadly rhythm and Jason is helpless to deny it’s tune.

Jason is a being of Destruction through circumstance rather than design, but make no mistake, that does not make him less.

(in fact, it may even make him more. To be remade from one’s own destruction is a powerful thing, and to be remade into Destruction? Well. There are few things more… miraculous.)

And we all know the next part of the story right?

Marinette mourns and grows and lives.

Jason rages and learns and plans. He’s come far from that street rat of a boy, and farther still from Marinette's petite oiseau.

But, two years after he comes back, when he ventures back to Gotham for revenge, Marinette takes one look at this angry, violent man calling himself Red Hood and she knows. He’s too familiar, even as he stands before her, more changed than she ever thought possible.

She meets the Red Hood when he comes for the new Robin, sweet little Tim who Marinette had grown to like despite herself. (He is not Jason, and never will be, but the boy was too shy and clever and earnest for her to have remained cold to him just because he wore the same colors once worn by the man she loved.)

She loves Tim in the same way she loves Adrien, simply and wholly and uncomplicated.

And then she is there when Jason comes for him.

Their reunion is not the stuff of fairy tales. It is not the beginning of happily ever after or true love.

Their reunion is a punch in the gut because it doesn't matter that he’s alive—except it does, because Mari has never known she could be so happy and so shattered at the same time—she is farther from him than she’d ever imagined she could be.

She reaches out for him, voice cracking around his name—because who else could this familiar stranger be?—and something in her shatters all over again when he flinches back from her touch.

“No,” he says, and it is a million things at once. He sends one last glare to Tim, who is still behind her, and then he’s gone.

***

Jason tries to avoid her.

Marinette allows this for a whole month before the whispers in the streets and the stories Tim comes back to her with, become too much.

She knows he is angry and out for revenge and building an empire out of the criminals that infest their city, but she doesn’t care. He was gone for two whole years and Marinette is tired of not seeing him-hearing him-touching him.

She has missed him like an ache in her chest and she doesn't care if he hates her or is furious with her, she just wants to see him. She needs to reassure herself that he’s alive, that he’s real.

And, it seems, the universe is on her side in this. In her chest, nestled there in the space next to her heart, there is what she can only describe as a compass, pointing to wherever Jason is like he’s her own personal north star.

The first few times, she’s yelled at or ran off. Or he runs off. Either way, for a while, the only moments she’s close to him are short and aching.

But she doesn’t let him run for long, and she doesn’t let him scare her off as she knows he’s trying to do.

Marinette had always been the more stubborn of the two.

Eventually, like a feral cat learning safety (like a hurt, scared animal relearning love), Jason lets her get close. He lets her in, lets her get close again.

The first time she sees him, without helmet or mask, she flings herself at him. Arms around his neck and legs wrapped around his waist, clutching him like her life depends on it. He takes her weight automatically, hand beneath her thighs while the other wraps around her back just as tightly. (he longs for touch, she has relearned, but he is also so frightened of it. She will have to be brave for them both)

The second time she sees his face bare once more, he is still thrumming with energy from a fight, is still high on the feeling of broken bones and blood on his knuckles. The force in his chest, the clawing and raging thing settled just off-center of the very core of him, pulls him toward her and Marinette meets him halfway, her own bright, ruthless force like a magnet in her chest.

They meet in a clash of hands on skin and lips anywhere they’ll land.

It is the first time they fall into bed together.

It will not be the last.

Now, you may be thinking, ‘Lady! This isn’t very Aladdin at all!’ and to that I tell you: I fucking warned you. What part of bastardized-Aladdin didn’t you get?

Also, shh. This is my favorite part!

So Mari is in her own personal little honeymoon stage, right? She practically could not be happier because Jason is alive and he’s hers and, even if he’s more violent and a crime boss, he’s stopped attacking his family at least. Which is good, because Mari really didn’t like the sad look Tim wore every time he brought up Jason.

And, oh yeah. Through a combination of her own detective work and Tikki, little Mari realizes that Jason is her Black Cat. Is the only person her Black Cat could be, not because of destiny—though that had helped—but because of coincidence and the bond the pair forged themselves.

So Mari is, obviously, on cloud nine at the moment and she tells Adrien and Fu who are ecstatic for her, and announcements are going to be made the second Mari tells Jason and what could possibly go wrong?

Well, a lot of things really but the first thing is that, basically, Mari is asking Jason to marry her. Just a bit. And while they both know, in that nebulous way they always have, that they love each other, neither of them have ever actually said it.

And also, they aren’t really dating right now either. Mari’s been too busy trying to just get near Jason again that she hasn’t much been paying attention to normal relationship things like dates or labels.

So when she brings it up Jason is… well, caught off guard is likely an understatement. Which then makes Mari realize what exactly she’s just done and- shit. She’s ruined everything and Jason is going to run away again and the compass in her chest is just going to be a reminder of what she can’t have and-

Jason, who only moments before was terrified and in danger of bolting—because this is a lot and magic-marrying Mari comes with responsibilities and rules and a thousand strings he doesn't know what to do with—now stops and stares at her, babbling and so obviously panicked and something in him abruptly settles.

She starts pacing and he grabs her hand when she passes by close enough, reeling her into his body. She comes easily even in her frazzled state and the vicious clawing thing in his chest sighs contentedly.

“Why?” he asks, and it is a million things at once. Why him, why now, why, why, why?

There are a million ways she could answer, but the easiest? The most important answer is simply this: “Because I love you.”

His breath shudders in his chest at her words and her hands raise to settle on his cheek and the back of his neck, a protection of one of the most vulnerable parts of him, and he leans into her touch like a man starved.

Gods, Jason has loved her for years.

He loved her Before and he loved her in the pits, when all he had was the hate they kept stuffing in his chest, and he loves her now. She is his sun and he will spin around her for the rest of his life. But when it all comes down to it, one simple fact doesn’t change:

“I don’t deserve your love.”

Her hands press harder into his skin, like she can force him to understand through touch alone. “If everyone only got the love they deserved no one would be truly loved,” she counters.

“You would,” he says, quick and quiet and honest. Her breath hitches and he watches her eyes go wide. The hands he has on her hips tighten at the emotions he finds there.

“Oh,” she whispers, already pulling him down to meet her. “Oh you stupid, beautiful man.”

And then they’re kissing and- and it is not the first time they’ve done this, but there is something very different about this one.

They’re kissing, and this time, it feels very much like coming home.

***

And, perhaps, that is not the end.

Because there is still one wish left.

Because Jafar-Hawkmoth is still there, and he’s still murderous, and there a very real chance he’s going to ruin the wedding somehow.

Because there is never truly an end to a story, it just simply stops being told.

But none of that really matters. Our princess and her dearest street rat are together at last, and together they’ll get through whatever happens after the story stops being told.

They’ve always had a thing for impossible odds after all.

#maribat #jasonette #my typewriter #aladdin au

236 notes · View notes

korijime · 3 years

Text

— apaixonar

(verb.) to fall in love with someone or something, the act of falling in love

shigaraki tomura, boku no hero academia

fluff, modern!college!au, social anxiety, slightly sexual jokes, swearing

wc ; one thousand six hundred and fifty nine words

dt ; @t-amajiki

riyuu says ; ahh, i don’t know what to say here. i started this last night, but i got the idea a really long time ago in one of our conversations. i was really scared about getting his character right and i hope i did it some justice. big thank you to @tokyoghoose for proof-reading!! i’d have cried if the mistakes you pointed out weren’t fixed sbdubdidjd

this is kinda a part of a series..i guess? there’s two more fics coming, so i guess it’s 1/3 of the fics i wrote for gere and 1/6 of all the gifts i made for them in total.

so yes, happy birthday, gere. i love you to the moon and back and i’d do damn near anything for you. i hope you like your gifts. ♡

“oi, crusty, look over there.”

the ‘crusty’ in question, a pale-faced young man, cast an annoyed glance in the direction of his partner’s finger. he never once listened to what dabi had to say, yet he knew from the tone in his voice that it would be something that had to do with you. and so he looked, and he didn’t regret listening.

he looked past the window of the chemistry lab, past the other annoyances, and towards you, sitting in the grass with your green-haired friend. he looked at you, sitting in the grass with the late morning sunlight engulfing most of your form, casting a makeshift halo over your head. a well-deserved one, at that. subconsciously resting his face onto his gloved hand, he turned completely towards the window, towards you, his experiment long forgotten.

“okay, jesus christ, stop it. you look like a creep.”

and there goes the moment.

his once ‘softened’ eyes and good mood vanished as soon as dabi spoke up again, his form hunching and his face contorting into annoyance once again.

“no, i don’t. you’re the creep.”

“sure, i was the one who sighed when they smiled for the camera, right?”

“shut up. you’re the creep, i’m right.”

of course that bastard was looking at him while he, in dabi’s words, ‘fawned’ over you.

he didn’t. he just knew how to appreciate good things. it didn’t really matter whether or not his cheeks and ears became heaters whenever you’d look at him, it happens to everyone.

right?

“not right. factually incorrect. you’re a dumbass, go ask them out.”

“i’m the dumbass when you’re the one who blew up our project not even two minutes ago? i’m not a mirror, you easy-bake oven.”

and so on and so forth, until the bell finally rang to signal the end of their day.

tomura shigaraki, never one to listen to anything his ‘best friend’ says, never one to hang around anyone except dabi and a few others, was seen moving methodically and quite swiftly through the halls of u.a academy, heading straight towards the small group of third-years standing at the far end of the corridor.

they’d known him for three years, they knew his mannerisms and the way his mind worked. it was only natural that both toga and twice had to fish out five dollars each to hand to a very smug-looking dabi, who only watched with a shit-eating grin as tomura went up to you.

he could feel his friends’ eyes on his back, but it didn’t register in his mind which was currently screaming at him to get the hell out of this situation what were you thinking because now not only you and your friends but a couple of other students and even teachers in the corridor were gawking at the infamous anti-social boy who was looking at his shoes like they were the love of his life and not you.

his stomach twisted and churned painfully, the nausea he felt was nothing compared to the embarrassment and humiliation he felt, the same embarrassment which was painted bright on his face.

maybe he could just pretend he wanted your notes and call it a day and go home and cry—

“aye, you crusty fuck! don’t chicken out now or you’re doing my homework for the next week!”

fuck that fucking blue haired porcupine ass smug-looking son of a bit-

“ne, shigaraki-kun, did you need something?”

he sent his prayers to whatever god was above for sending an actual angel to be standing in front of him and pull him out of his formerly very quickly approaching spiral.

“are you..areyoufreeafterclasses?”

you furrowed your brows and stepped closer to him, ignoring the way tsuyu tried to pull you back. tomura was your friend, or at the very least, your acquaintance, she had no reason to be so wary.

“what was that? i didn’t catch that.”

the construction of the academy and the location of the institute was quite unfortunate, it would have been better suited in one of the islands near florida so that the bermuda triangle could’ve just swallowed it up so he wouldn’t have to be in this situation where he wanted nothing more than to evaporate into fucking water vapour why are you looking at him like THAT-

“are..you free after classes? i need your help with something.”

“oh! yeah, sure! what do you need help with?”

and apparently that was the director’s cue for everyone to go back to minding their own business. the students’ chatters started up again and the ones that had stopped to watch realised they had better things to do than gawk at the college loner asking the pretty one for help. even your friend group stepped back to let the two of you have some semblance of privacy, and tomura had never felt more relieved.

“you’re, uh, in fine arts, right? i have a project on that and i need to know more about it.”

he made the effort to finally look up and he was glad he did. like really, really glad. because the way you were looking at him with the same smile you’d given the camera, your hands clasped together as you leaned towards him, really just made all the embarrassment and humiliation worth it.

“sure! just let me say bye to my friends and we can get going, i know a good cafe near the campus.”

he only nodded and turned at the same time you did, heading towards the shitheads while you headed for your friends.

“would you look at that, crusty-no-balls finally grew some.”

“nice one, tomura! make sure to get their number!”

“toga-chan, they will be studying together, i doubt they’ll have time for that.”

and the rest was tuned out as he leaned on his locker, looking out towards the gates and back at you. he really did that, didn’t he? worked up the guts to ask you out, even if it was under the guise of a study session. which wasn’t a complete lie, what the hell did ‘fine arts’ mean, anyway?

“visual arts! stuff like painting and architecture and theatre, alongside others. i’m pretty sure poetry and prose are on there too.”

“wait, so you’re taking all of that? how.”

it was late afternoon now, around three or four when he had last checked. time wasn’t really important right now, not when he managed to kill two birds with one stone.

he was getting to spend time with you and do his project, added with you talking about your passions as a bonus.

he stopped typing and reached for his drink, which he did not choose because you told him to, thank you very much and fuck off, dabi.

looking back towards the screen, he realised he was almost done with his project, which was a surprise as he was sure he was paying zero attention to the project itself and hundred percent attention to you instead.

could anyone blame him? no.

no, they couldn’t.

they couldn’t blame him for having his attention on you when you went into the fine details of prose and theatre, using hand gestures to try and get across the point which you couldn’t do so with words. apparently you thought he knew sign language. which he did. it was an option, seemed interesting, nothing more nothing less.

is what he told dabi when he asked. but no, the real reason was the one you knew, which was the fact that the shelter he volunteers at has some people who prefer to use sign language, whatever the reason may be. he knew how it felt to be forced into doing something even though you’re comfortable with something else, but you can’t do that something else because it’s not convenient for others.

so yeah, sign language.

he was pretty sure it earned him some brownie points with you, for which he wasn’t complaining.

what he was complaining about, though, was the fact that you thought it’d be a good idea to steal a bite of his pastry while he was lost in thought.

“hey! thief. stop that.”

“no, it looked tasty.”

“okay, and so do you. you don’t see me biting you.”

..the fuck?

what the FUCK did he just-

run.

take your laptop, and your phone, and your bag, and get the hell out.

his mind kept chanting that over and over, and he was listening to it, his clammy hands reaching to close his laptop as he got up but then. stopped.

you were laughing. at him. you were laughing at his major fuck-up.

“ne, ne, tomura-kun. i had no idea you were into that.”

yes, yes, he knows. he knows it’s weird and that it’s a weird thing to say to someone who he has a crush on and-

“honestly, the last time i made a joke like that, deku combusted and iida looked constipated.”

“wh-what was the joke?”

“i’ll show you later!”

he choked.

“show me!?”

“you sure sound excited, tomura-kun.”

the grin on your face did nothing to calm the hundred-mile marathon that both his heart and mind had been running ever since he said that.

what was even happening anymore.

that was the question which kept running through his mind even as he walked you home, thanking you for your help.

“no worries! i’d love to spend more time with you.”

what was happening.

“oh and, i also have an assignment due, do you think you could help me with it?”

“yeah, sure. same cafe?”

“sounds good! i’ll see you friday, then!”

“mhm.”

what the fuck was happening.

he’d like to say he didn’t care nor did he think about it, but the way you hugged him goodbye with a promise to see him again left the smallest of smiles on his face which didn’t go away for a while.

tagged ; @t-amajiki @tokyoghoose @kei7ime @inarizsunarin @tsukkiboii @spicyfoodboi @kakiwrites @lcaita @lnarizakis @kuro0luvr @himichii

#shigaraki tomura #➤ gere !!#shigaraki x reader #tomura x reader #shigaraki tomura x reader #tomura shigaraki x reader #bnha #mha #mha x reader #bnha x reader #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #birthday gifts !

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zims-left-shoe · 4 years

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Hi, I absolutely adore your stuff!!! Its my birthday soon and I would be forever grateful if you could write me something for Zim? I dont really mind what it is or what it's about. I'd just be happy for cute headcannons. Thank youuuuuuu!!!!💞😘

Sure!! I finally got to this. I’ve been wanting to write some headcanons anyway, but I have a lot in my ask box so I just haven’t gotten to it yet. This is basically a list of various headcanons that are cute (in my opinion), they don’t really have a specifc theme!

Cute Zim relationship headcanons (all are my personal opinion)!!

Irkens are touch starved, since the entire empire is basically one big military. Love within Irken society is incredibly taboo, as is physical affection. Most forms of physical contact between Irkens tend to be painful (i.e punches, kicks, strikes). The whole concept of romantic relationships was a bit of a culture shock to Zim.

That being said, the very first time you had attempted something in that vein (even if it was something as simple as a hug or taking his hand), he wasn’t quite sure how to react. At first he was very jumpy. However, if you would pull away, he would immediately bring you back in.

In the beginning, you would have to be the one to instigate anything romantic. It wasn’t necessarily that he didn’t want it (he was pretty much hooked on physical affection the first time you held his hand), rather he was too proud to ask for anything. He didn’t want to be seen as weak, begging for attention. He was Irk’s finest soldier after all!

Eventually, he had stopped caring about that. Once he gained confidence with the whole thing, he would make the first moves quite often. Because if he wanted it, he would take it (within your comfort level of course).

Zim is a clingy bastard. Too conceited to admit it, but clingy nonetheless. If you ignore him for too long, he will begin to bug you in the most obnoxious ways imaginable. Trying to work or be productive? He’s basically the equivalent of a cat, he’ll just lay right across whatever you’re trying to do, or right on top of you to prevent you from accomplishing anything. If he can’t do that, he’ll bitch and moan until you acknowledge his existence. If you somehow manage to ignore him after all of that, he’ll get all schmoopy and lay on the ground all depressed like (basically that one scene from ETF) until you go convince him you still love him.

(more under the cut)

Despite being cautious with hugs at first, he learned to love them. Again, he would never say this aloud, but they make him feel warm and safe. Zim would never verbally ask for a hug, rather just slither his way into your arms. This happens often, especially when he’s unhappy. Sometimes he’ll even use his PAK legs along with his arms, although he’s very careful when he does this since they can be sharp; this usually happens if he thinks you need to be protected from something, even if it’s not a physical threat (breakdowns worry him, he believes you to be in danger from something he can’t fight).

Holding hands is something Zim likes a lot. Not only does it feel nice, he’s discovered it to be a very effective way to show the world that you are his, and that he is yours. He tends to be a bit jealous and overprotective, so if he feels that there is even a minor possibility of your relationship being threatened, his clinginess goes up a thousand percent. Anytime you walk anywhere together, you better believe your hands are linked.

Cuddles are also a thing he loves dearly. Once he gets comfortable, Zim is definitely a cuddle bug. It’s like a hug but better! And if you’re at his place, there is a ninety percent chance GIR is joining in. Just like one happy family! Again, if he initiates it, he won’t ask for it. You could just be sitting on a couch and he’ll slowly curl himself into you, gradually latching a limb at a time onto you, until you’re both just a mess of tangled arms and legs. But, oh, if you even make the smallest remark about him being cute, he’ll throw a hissy fit and say that he’s just doing this for your sake, not his own enjoyment (and then two seconds later he’ll be purring and chirping in your arms, content as can be).

Zim is competitive as hell. He’ll turn anything into a competition if you let him. If you remain passive and assure him that, yes, he is the best, he’ll leave it at that. However, if you don’t back down and try to give him a run for his money, expect an all out war. You can use this to your advantage. For example, want him to be overly-affectionate for the day? Challenge him to see who can do the most nice things for each other. Even if he says that’s stupid, he’ll still accept the challenge and suddenly you have the sweetest alien in the universe. He will never back down. Ever. So these little games will be drug out for as long as you let them. It’s best just to let him win after a day or two.

Dates with Zim are either the most outlandish thing you’ve ever done, or the most charming and romantic. There’s no in-between. And they can go from zero to a hundred real quick. Typical Earth dates make no sense to him in the slightest, so even if he does try to take you on a cliché date (dinner and a movie, stuff like that), it will most likely go horribly wrong as a result of poor planning. Those dates tend to be the funniest, but they frustrate him to no end since he clearly can’t get them right. He tends to be more successful when he stops trying to think like a human, since he really can’t. Lots of dates in space ensue, which tend to be both exciting and amazing. Although everywhere he takes you isn’t anything special to him, he can tell you’re having the time of your life, which is enough to satisfy him. GIR probably tags along a lot (not only is he a great robot son, he makes an excellent wing man).

Kissing is a very strange experience for him. Zim has never understood the act itself or its appeal, and at first found it rather disgusting. Eventually he gets used to it, but he’s still completely confused by it. It’s not his favorite thing, and he definitely has to be in the mood for it, but he’s more willing to take part in it. Especially if it becomes competitive; pray for yourself then, because you have a monster on your hands. And if someone just won’t get the hint, kissing is his way of telling them to step off before they lose a limb; he’s a jealous little devil when it comes to you.

As time goes on, you’ll begin to notice that several articles of clothes of yours have gone missing. Zim likes to take jackets he thinks you won’t miss anymore, because as previously mentioned, he’s a clingy bugger, and so when you can’t be around him, he’ll put one of those on while he works down in the lab or is doing repairs. If he gets it dirty, he’ll sneakily throw it with the rest of your laundry and take another one.

Zim is extremely proud to have you. He will show you off to anyone and everyone who will listen, including his Tallest (who seemed rather confused). At first it was embarrassing, but you had just learned to roll with the inevitable.

If you ask very nicely (i.e. offering cuddles and feeding his ego), Zim could be convinced to give you a lesson on flying the voot cruiser. Does it go well? Well, Zim’s piloting skills are...not consistently amazing, his teaching skills even less so, but you didn’t kill yourselves. You would have thought he would be pissed after the ship was docked in the hangar in worse condition than it had left, but surprisingly he was even more motivated to teach you to pilot an Irken ship. Mainly because it was a way to spend time with you in a way that he could understand, but nonetheless he made flying lessons a regular thing.

Expect gifts constantly. Despite his evil plans going horribly wrong all of the time, Zim is actually incredibly skilled when it comes to tech. So, he makes you things. A lot. They tend to be things that are actually useful, with far more advanced technology than anything available on Earth. Plus, Zim is a million times more helpful than an IT guy. Your phone or laptop not working? You can take it to Zim and within five minutes not only is your original problem fixed, but the device itself has been completely upgraded with Irken tech to give it more functionality and efficiancy than you could have ever dreamed of.

Overall, despite his flaws and being a massive pain in the ass, Zim is a cutie in his own right. :)

#invader zim #headcanon #invader zim headcanons #zim x reader #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim fic #request #fanfiction #fanfic

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bisexualoftheblade-old · 3 years

Note

how many wips do you have? like what are they all, and not the number of wips in a fandom? what are all the names?

okay. fuck you. fuck you so much. fuck you.

i’m putting this under a read more cut no one else deserves to see this shit. a lot of these are requests, and for those i will just write out the request itself

Shadowhunters:

domestic polycule fluff with tem, jessa, and will because im not a coward

Supernatural

- hehe hoho i request destiel hehehe

- request 61/? cai cai cai cai i need you to rewrite the destiel scene but yk. GOOD. not like i'm in the know about the spn fandom or anything, it's been years for me. but DO IT

Bright Sessions

- caleb/adam grisha AU

- mark bryant vs. united states aka sue the AM

- caleb/adam college fluff

Umbrella Acaademy

- request 31/? i want a ben and klaus drabble please spare me some brotherly bickering

- AND SO BEGINS NIGHT 4 with request 13/? oooh oooh can i get a raymond and allison playlist??? i think their vibes together would SLAP

- hi there night 2 is technically morning 3 but who's counting not me anyway request 5/? can i get a ben moodboard? gotta rep my tua bb

Percy Jackson

- request 9/? can i get a percabeth moodboard or quote edit?? like god they're the og couple goals take me back to high school cai

- For the 100 follower things :D Jercy getting caught in the rain

- request 29/? a drabble about literally anything to do with pjo. i’ll be happy with anyone and anything i’m love these children

- *somersaults in like I’m a real fancy acrobat* hello ello ello may I request some camp half blood chaos possible involving *does a flip* ✨side characters✨ <3

Penumbra Podcast

- request 52/? drabble about the penumbra podcast. this is for ren bc ren likes it and i don't actually know anything about it. juno? i think? that's the one ren likes. write it for ren

- Tpp ghost hunting / buzzfeed unsolved au

- sad juno smut

- final resting place fic go brrrr

Marvel

- request 6/? i'm going to my roots y'all can i get a spider-man playlist? if not a playlist then i'd honestly be happy with literally anything involving spider-man

- request 15/? i'm going crazy this is recorded evidence of me actually losing it ANYWAY can i get a quote edit for something from iron man? literally anything that man says is gold so cai's choice :D he deserved better in endgame i'm still bitter

- request 42/? do another spidey thing that differs from the other spidey thing

- request 73/? you have Opinions. rant about infinity way and/or endgame. go.

- request 74/? quote edit for deadpool!!

- spideytorch relationship character study

- peter parker as a tired grad student monitoring the young avengers (send help)

Six of Crows

- okay listen i wasn't going to request anything bc i worry about you but also? if you want to/have the time hit me with a playlist for our girl nina zenik

- request 43/? fuckin give me the ending anya should have had. she is alive and with her new son and having a great time

- request 45/? inej moodboard?

- request 47/? will you make literally any meme of your choosing for six of crows?

- request 48/? write a drabble for kaz, my favorite bastard

- okay so i don't actually like nina or mattias that much but i still wanna hear about your thoughts (and also see if you'll change my mind)

- kaz brekker turning 18 fic. birthday party, everyone singing, whole shebang. i need it stat

- religious trauma fic aka i started shipping kaz/alina/inej and i can’t stop

- kaz trauma soup (he has D.I.D. and you can’t prove me wrong)

- my two redacted fics for @grishaversebigbang

- wesper fake dating

- six of crows bright sessions crossover: everyone gets therapy

TMA

- uhh... s1 gang having a nice time? melanie getting to have some Pride™️? some "fun" horror thing?

- request 7/? spare steph and jason bonding? please sir? spare some for a humble child such as myself?

- okay so this was meant for night 3 but i had midterm shit SO this is honorary night 3 let's DO THIS request 8/? i want a moodboard of extremely out of context magnus archives shit like i mean confuse the FUCK out of me i don't go here i know Nothing about it

- request 11/? OKAY so i need tim stoker meeting tim drake now i need my timmy to meet your tim plus i want to see character differences no i'm not trying to create a tim stoker in my head so i can read a's fic while NOT thinking of tim drake whaaaaaat you're crazy

- request 18(i think)/? i need a quote edit of every time within the first like. 15 eps of tam where jon is like “sounds fake but go off” thank u bb

- request 40/? i challenge you to write a tma drabble based only on the episodes i've heard. i'm currently halfway through episode 23

- Jon being lovingly bullied into taking a break. I'm aware this has been written a million times but it is one of my favorite things.

- spiral!sasha AU

- extinction martin go brrrrr

- high school era timsasha. they've both been friends for years, and everyone always asks when they will be a couple. they decide to fake date, to prove everyone wrong and show what a bad couple they would be. turns out that's a bit trickier than they thought

- after sasha comes back, tim is broken. he can't let go, scared that if he looks away for even a minute he'll lose her again. sasha suggests shibari as a way for him to give up control

- sasha pov mag 19 au, sacrificing herself to save the others, knows that if she gives herself up to the not!them it will let the others live

- this is the "tim finds a polaroid of sasha" trope

- early archives days,, long nights in research,,, clothes sharing,, somft. late nights and falling asleep at their desks warm and safe in the other's presence

- two parts: timsasha as kids, each picking a constellation that is "theirs". just soft kid antics. tim at sasha's grave glancing up to see their constellations

- continuing your job’s a joke (you’re broke)

DC Comics

- TIMSTEPH HADESTOWN AU,,,

- my redacted fic for @batfam-big-bang

- request for you to get a decent amount of sleep? serious answer, dickkori, SAL's Venus

- request 4/? timsteph morning after 👀 mayhaps?

- a concept: nonbinary stephanie brown

- teehee hi mom, you don’t have to do this if you don’t want to, but can i request damian angst for your accomplishments 100 followers?

- hi you can ignore my first request if you want, or you can ignore this one. but bls possibly write some bikini ra’s? -the bikini bitch

- request 27/? jay is asking through me for a jondami playlist but tbh i also want it so win win yk?

- "I don't know how to help you but I can help you find someone who does" with bruce and jason? im just craving bruce being a good day to jason for once

- “I am putting you in time out because you need to understand the consequences of your actions.” with steph and jason as dumbass disaster bi best friends pretty please?

- request 32/? timsteph patrol date!!!

- request 33/? timsteph *gala* date? mayhaps??

- request 37/? tim drake drabble but make it Edgy cai

- request 39/? drabble of a prank war between tim and damian

- joyfire cuddly fluff please? or like just any outlaw fluff if joyfire isnt your thing (feel free to add every member of the outlaws, dont feel like u gotta stick with jason, kori, roy i love them all)

- barbara and robin! jason fluff? bonding over books or something?

- request 62/? i need a drabble about the chaotic trio jason, tim, and steph i'm love them ty

- request 63/? batfam x mcu crossover. batfam meets ironfam. give me ALL the cliches. ALL OF THEM

- request 64/? young justice x young avengers - jay cuz idk SHIT about the young avengers

- request 66/? jondami moodboard pls and ty

- request 67/? timsteph moodboard!!!!!!

- request 69/? HEHEHE kinky 😏 i would v much like a timsteph drabble of the almost first time. does that make sense? like i don't want you to go all the way NSFW cuz i know that's against the rules and i'm a rule follower. but like they *almost* go all the way. this could be fade to black or some shit i don't care just make it a lil steamy and have Fun

- i request damian angst! all of it

- hmm... maybe i request? jondami?

- mayhaps,,,,some batfam,,,,,committing crimes? ily be gay do crime <3 - lu

- How about a ficlet with Steph and Cass?

Found Family Bingo Prompts

- no powers au

- tunnel

- first day

- join the club

- hurt/comfort

- experiment

- playing favorites

- hold on

- possession

- 10 o’clock

- singing

- road

- snitch

- curfew

- timer

- fantasy au

- zombie au

- dreams

- campfire

- are you okay

- movie night

- games

- scared

Miscellaneous

- a request: Write A Drabble, Coward

- is it too late to request a moodboard for me?

- request 20/? i’m going off book because i’m in a Chaotic Mood™️ can you just absolutely vibe check me like go off cai demolish me

- request 21/? i formally request that you pick a favorite cai. i don’t care what that favorite pertains to, just pick a favorite something

- request 23/? roast me

- request 24/? can i have a buzzfeed unsolved spoopy playlist but spoiler alert it’s not spoopy bc shane doesn’t believe does this make sense it has been a Day™️

- request 25/50 i want a jake and amy fic make it Soft cai i’m love them b99 is so good

- request 28/? i know nothing about the lord of the rings so make something that will confuse the shit out of me

- request 34/? malvie and jaylos moodboards 😈

- request 35/? a moodboard for the bbb mods!! perceive all of us!!!

- request 36/? moodboard for the tua mods too???? mayhaps??

- request 41/? doctor WHO? idk but i want a drabble of him and the one character i know from doctor who which is rose

- request 46/? make an alignment meme with our group, have fun!!!

- request 49/? i want you to kin assign me a character from every fandom you can/want to. go feral

- request 50!!!!/? this is a special request. the most special request. can you make a bastards tbh playlist? i want our vibes encapsulated. i want us in music form. i want to hear those songs and be like "that's me and cai" and smile.

- requests 51/? i know jack shit about good omens. explain it to me in the most confusing way possible. make me know less by the end than i know now

- request 53/? can you write a mel aesthetic? i'm Curious

- request 54/? give me a list of book recs cai i want some good book recs pls

- request 56/? edit a picture of US together too

- request 58/? oooh can i have a disney edit? like. hm. i just really love disney and i want anything to do with disney. like a quote or an aesthetic or an aesthetic edit i just want disney.

- request 59/? i would v much like a recipe for carbonara. i've never had it but it sounds fucking delicious

- request 60/? ooh hey can i get a makeup tutorial? i know you like makeup, i'm shit at doing makeup. teach me

- request 65/? i need the most emo playlist you can make that vibes with dear evan hansen thank you

- request 68/? i want a superwholock moodboard. this can be serious, with the actual fandoms in mind, or literally what the era felt like. the insanity. the horror.

- request 70/? ooh ooh ooh do you have a good bread recipe?? i wanna get that bread

- request 71/? i want a playlist with the vibes of summoning a demon. please don't ask questions. i don't have answers. and if i do, no i don't.

- For the requests, how about writing something based on a friend?

- request 75/? MMMM i want literally anything to do with natasha, pierre, and the great comet of 1812

- request 76/? i want some healthy recipes. help a girl out

- a feral bbb quote or two?

- you perceive my plant but now I dare thee to perceive mine own visage

- okay this is a two for one request. 1. you did the bee movie script so now we need a shrek two script edit 2. sleep please

- Pansexual mb for my lil queer soul?

- my (probably) final request is just for you to ramble about something, i don't really care what

- HI ILY CONGRATS AS WELL CAUSE IM LATE BUT CONGRATS. could i request a pirates of the caribbean (or just pirates) or whatever you what to do, free range.

- mood board for the beluga whales who got brought to the animal sanctuary in Iceland please?

- 100 follower request: Moodboard for my stuffed cow Oaky?

#cai's 200 #asks #mininacl

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joon-ipersgirl · 3 years

Text

O7 - “the promising proposition”

genre: mafia!au, angst, fluff, slow burn, mystery-thriller

pairing: namjoon x reader (f)

word count: 5.1k

warnings: cursing (if i miss any, let me know!)

summary: charismatic. beautiful. fearless without question. the ambitious team of seven young men in charge of spiral, downtown district’s hottest new club go above and beyond to provide 100% satisfaction to their clients.

after an eventful night out, you have no choice but to join the team for property damages greater than your intern salary. challenging a series of events that can no longer be left to coincidence, secrets threaten to burst at the seams as your professional and private life collide, and another - more sinister - debt is added to your total.

how far are you willing to go to pay back your pound of flesh? remember, nothing is ever as it seems...

a/n: it’s been a minute but we’re back! winter break is here and i’m determined to write so here’s part 7 as i still work on my tae halloween fic (whew) and some more holiday related scenarios/oneshots. thank you all for being so patient and i hope you enjoy this next part. i only have one more pre-written part for this story so updates may be even slower lol. as always, send your reactions as they make me super happy lmao. thank you vi for beta-reading this and enjoy everyone!

full masterlist // series masterlist // previous // next

The four of you sit in Manager Kim’s office, tense. Well, three as Paul had ruined his chances during last week’s meeting but you know he can feel the heaviness in the air as you wait for Madeline’s decision. She sits comfortably behind her large desk after calling you in to tell you who’d be assisting her on the Cavallero project. Her large, black fedora is propped on her head at a dangerous angle as she has her feet kicked up on her desk, her signature steel toed boots accentuating her full black outfit. You’d spent the previous days in the breakroom trying to figure out what made this project a higher priority than the rest of the contracts you’d acquired and who would be the lucky winner.

“Lovely of you all to join me, though Paul you were not really needed.” He tries his best to hide behind Laura from Manager Kim’s disappointed stare, but to no avail. “I know you all have been eagerly anticipating which one of you lucky interns will have the privilege of working with me on the first part of the Cavallero contract. You’ll find out shortly as his assistant will be dropping off the final notes on what he expects to see at the event; I’ll send one of you down to fetch him. We’ll have a brief meeting afterwards and then get to work. The rest of you will work under that person, following their orders diligently. Now, I need updates on the rest of our projects. Where are we?”

You barely listen as James rattles off what he was able to accomplish with the Emmerson’s engagement party. You think his design is doable, chic for an event planned in spring, but lacking in some of the finer details you know the future Mrs. Emmerson would appreciate; she’s a woman after your own heart with her love for champagne, meals created by chefs with Michelin stars, and exquisite fine china. Of course Madeline would pit you against each other for this job though. Not that you mind, you’re more than capable of fighting for what you believe is mine. It’s just less work when it’s given to you nicely packaged. Like the gifts you’re sure future Mrs. Emmerson would like to receive from her future husband’s wealthy friends.

“Y/N?” You focus back on Manager Kim who’s waiting expectantly, her glasses slipping down her nose. “The Williams’? What’s going on there? Or have you not made any progress?”

“The Williams have signed off on the zoo theme for their son,” James interjets before you can gather your thoughts. “We’re looking into finding the best face painters in the city and we’ve almost secured a catering contract for the 150 vegan cupcakes Mrs. Williams ordered. The invitations are currently being designed based on the chosen theme and will be ready for client approval next week.”

“Very good, James. Please send me a copy of your notes to be added into the file. Y/N, I expect better from you. That’s everything I have for today. You’re all dismissed,” she finishes with a wave of her hand, her glasses sliding down her nose once again as she searches for one particular document on her desk.

You don’t wait for the rest of them to follow as you make your way back to the tiny cubicle-like room you share. Manager Kim normally never calls you out in front of the rest of them and you’re fuming. Tossing down your legal pad, you whirl around as the three of them enter the room.

“What the fuck, James?!” you hiss as he calmly sits behind his desk and resumes typing on his computer.

“Looks like the Princess is upset,” Paul stage-whispers to Laura as he too sits down. You ignore him. He’s just as irrelevant beforehand as he is now.

“What do you need, Y/N? I have to send the notes from the meeting to Manager Kim,” James responds, not looking up at you. Your face further sours.

“You read my fucking files?! That wasn’t your event to handle and you know that!” you yell.

“Well, you took too long to respond -”

“I had barely opened my mouth -”

“- and Manager Kim needed a response, so I responded,” he finishes, ignoring your outburst.

“Y/N, please calm down. We don’t want to make a scene,” Laura pleads.

“Calm down? Laura, he made me look incompetent,” you argue.

“But you are, Y/N.” You pause and turn to James once again. Disbelief is written across your face as you stare each other down. You were the imcompetent one? “You should be ready to answer any question about any event J&M has going on whether it’s your’s or someone else’s. It’s not my fault that you were never taught the basics of efficiency in a company. The job has to get done and I completed the task. Simple,” he finishes. His incessant typing is all you hear as you stare at him. James had never been this bold before. Especially not with you.

“Watch your mouth, James,” you tell him coolly.

“Furthermore, your failure in that meeting shows that you’re incapable of handling bigger projects. I mean, you couldn’t recall the most straightforward details of a birthday party for a six-year-old child. Why should Manager Kim trust you to work on the coveted Cavallero contract? You’ve given her no reason to. All you’ve done is eliminated yourself from the running, effectively leaving Laura and I. Which is no challenge because - no offense Laura - you’re not really competition. I just hope you guys can maange when my hands are full with this project.”

You laugh as Laura cowers. You weren’t sure whether it was from the sound or James’ particularly harsh words, but the atmosphere in the room was much worse than in the meeting. Biting back the words you really wanted to tell him, you heed Laura’s advice and decide to not cause a scene. This is a professional establishment and you need this job. There are goals you want to accomplish and you wouldn’t let a slimy bastard like James Carter distract you. He’d finally shown his true colors - what he really thought of you - and you’re only grateful the others had been around to witness it.

“Alright, James. It seems like you’ve been holding back on us. Just remember: a word once let out of a cage cannot be whistled back again,” you tell him as you resume your duties at your desk. Flipping open a new page of your legal pad, you write neatly at the top: Emmerson Engagement. If James thought he had bested you, he had another thing coming.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” Laura asks as she joins you in the staff room for lunch.

“Never better,” you reply, sipping on your iced coffee as you warm your leftover lasagna in the microwave. Gods bless your sweet, sweet roommate.

“What James said to you this morning was pretty harsh,” she says as she makes herself a steaming cup of green tea. Always the health conscious one that girl.

“James seems to be tired of our shit,” you chuckle. “I’ve heard worse though, Laura. Don’t worry about me. He said some pretty harsh things about you, too.”

She nods. “I didn’t think he could be so mean! And counting me out?! I worked really hard on my designs!” Laura’s voice doesn’t sound too sure, but you nod in agreeance.

“Your bridal party design last spring was very well done,” you tell her around a mouthful of lasagna.

“Exactly!” she says in a huff as she plops down across from you, nearly burning herself in the process. “And your event was really good too! The one you did a few months ago,” she trails off. You laugh.

“Which one was that?”

“You know, the one for the family with that really fancy theme? And lots of people came...”

“Oh, the Winter Wonderland scene on the ice rink?”

“Yes, that one!” she exclaims.

“That was Marie’s project before she got transferred to Jenson’s team,” you say with a laugh. Laura almost chokes on her tea as you wipe your mouth clean. “No need for you to try and make me feel better by pretending to remember something I’ve worked on. I’m honestly fine,” you chuckle again.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry -”

“Y/N?” James stands in the doorway looking quite displeased. You raise your eyebrows at him in response. “Manager Kim would like to see you in her office. Please make it quick as I’m going to get Mr. Cavallero’s assistant soon.” You laugh loudly.

“Of course, James. I’ll be sure to let Manager Kim know you’d like her to rush her meeting for your convenience.”

He scowls as you brush past him, your half-eaten lunch and coffee in hand. Mercury must be in retrograde for James to think that he can make demands of you any type of way. It seems that you need to put him back in his place; he’d gotten too comfortable with the little office jokes you all shared. Grabbing your legal pad and pen, you smooth down the little flyaway hairs and your white button down shirt; you couldn’t receive another lashing looking unkempt. Knocking on the door, you wait for Manager Kim to answer before you enter.

“You asked to see me, Manager Kim?”

“Yes. Please take a seat, Y/N. I’ll be with you in a second,” she replies as she finishes typing on her computer. You sit gingerly in the unoccupied chair as you’d done this morning and wait for her to rip into you. “Right. Let’s get to it. What was that this morning?” You inhale deeply.

“Honestly, I was thinking about James’ event and mentally noting changes I would make as possible suggestions to him when you called on me. I wasn’t dozing off because I was bored,” you answer.

“Hmm. And what changes would you have made?” she asks curiously as she gives you her undivided attention.

“Well, the future Mrs. Emmerson is a woman of prestige. Class. While roses are a classic choice, white tulips are pre-on-trend and I think she would enjoy being a part of that group. He also chose the Dom Perignon champagne, but I thought Veuve Clicquot would be the better option. High price doesn’t always mean high flavor. I do agree with his choice of venue though. The high ceilings will look great in the low afternoon light and the white lights in the evening will make for great photos,” I finished. “But of course, the client is always right and if this is her chosen design, we’ll go with that.”

Manager Kim stares at you until you start to feel slightly uncomfortable under her gaze. You know you hadn’t overstepped and she had asked for your honest opinion, but when sitting in front of one of the best event designers in the game, second guessing yourself is inevitable.

“You didn’t think to say anything earlier in the meeting?” she asks.

“I wasn’t aware that giving opinions on other people’s events was ideal during a regular updates meeting.”

“You should speak up more. Your ideas aren’t as bad as you think they are,” Madeline says as she leans back in her chair. “How else do you expect to lead any major project?”

Just as you’re going to respond, a knock sounds at the door. “Come in!” Manager Kim yells.

“Should I leave? James did say he was going to collect Mr. Cavallero’s assistant,” you trail off, getting ready to stand.

“No. No, you’re fine,” she says with a wave of her hand. “Ah, Mr. Carlisle - oh! And Mr. Cavallero! What a surprise! I didn’t know you would be joining us,” Manager Kim says as she stands and you follow suit.

“I happened to have some free time and decided to tag along as Lewis was dropping off the notes. I hope you don’t mind. I thought it would be helpful to have me here in case you had any questions that needed direct attention,” Mr. Cavallero responds. “And please, call me Jonas.”

Mr. Cavallero, or Jonas as he would like to be referred to, is dressed in his typical big spender suit: a deep navy blue suit with a pristine white buttoned-down shirt and pre-released Versace patent leather monk strap shoes. His aura fills the entire space, though he only stands in the doorway of Madeline’s office. You can practically feel the gel between your fingers as you look at his salt-and-pepper slicked back hair; the sheen is almost as bright as his shoes.

“And Miss Y/L/N, yes? What a pleasure to see you again. Will you be sitting in on this meeting as well? Lewis could only sing your praises after you left,” he asks. You struggle to keep your face neutral as James’ searing gaze washes over you. You know Manager Kim’s ears must be red as her secretive meeting is foiled by her best client.

“Actually, I was just -”

“- going to bring the file for the event as you were previously suggesting. Right, Y/N?” Manager Kim says as she turns to you with a stiff smile. “You are our chosen intern, afterall.” You can barely contain your gasp as she says the words. You had gotten the contract?! James does not try to hide his shock at her statement as his eyes widen and his mouth nearly falls open.

“It’ll be a pleasure working with you again, Miss Y/L/N,” Mr. Carlisle says with a smile.

“Of course,” you reply with a deep head nod. “I look forward to working with you both as well. I’ll be back with your file shortly.”

“Thank you, Y/N. And thank you James for going to get them. You may leave now,” Manager Kim adds as she turns her attention back to her guests, inviting them to sit and make themselves comfortable.

You walk calmly, though you feel anything but that, across the room as James holds the door open for you. Pleading with the gods to be on your side, you race ahead of him to the breakroom for fresh, new bottles of water - a sight to see in a knee length pencil skirt and the infamous 4-inch stilettos that are apparently still required in this day and age. Your office is filled with hushed whispers until you round the corner and enter the small room.

“You got the Cavallero project?!” Paul exclaims. “Holy shit! You’re better than I thought, Y/N!” You laugh as you search your desk for the copy of the previous plans you’d developed from that day’s secret meeting.

“Congratulations, Y/N!” Laura cheers, bouncing up and down. “Your first real major project. Isn’t that exciting, James?”

“Sure. If you can be happy for someone who fucked her way to get the position,” he says biterrly. “Lewis could only sing your praises after you left?” James scoffs. “Sounds like you worked really hard in that meeting.”

“James!” Laura gasps.

“Oh it’s fine, Laura. If you think that James, I can’t stop you,” you say with a shrug. “But I’ll be happy to discuss my scandalous sex life with you after I meet with our coveted client.”

You prance out of the office with a smug smile on your face. Of course James would resort to a low blow because he didn’t get what he wanted; he was worse than the six-year-old child he had reprimanded you about. Tucking the fake file under your arm as the real one is still in Madeline’s office, you carry the bottles of water back to the meeting. After passing the bottles to your clients, you stand diligently behind Manager Kim with your notepad at the ready.

“Please Miss Y/L/N, take my seat,” Jonas says, standing.

“Oh no, I couldn’t.”

“I insist. I do my best thinking standing up.”

“He does this often in his office,” Lewis agrees. Glancing at Manager Kim, you gingerly sit down on the end of the chair after thanking Jonas again.

“You had mentioned that you enjoyed the designs Y/N had developed, but as you know these are drafts and can be changed as you deem fit, Mr. Cavallero. Are there any things that come to mind or can we work on finalizing these details?” Madeline asks. You watch as Jonas strides around the office, seemingly in thought.

“You proposed hosting the event at one of the upscale hotels downtown, but I was wondering if you had any other options. We want the environment to feel lavish, but not over the top,” he replies. “I was actually thinking of something -” he pauses “ - more intimate.”

Writing down his wishes, you rack your brain for places that fit his description. Most clients of his caliber wanted something extravagant, but Jonas was proving to be a very different man. Quite the surprise that you were not expecting. “Would you like something with more modern architecture or classical?” you ask.

“I have always been a fan of French architecture; the European style also seems to be popular among our own clients. Most of them come from European backgrounds,” Jonas answers.

“They might find the interior design reminiscent,” Madeline thinks aloud and jots it down.

“It could be very good for signing contracts, sir,” Lewis adds.

“I may have a suggestion. Chateau’s is a little outside of the city, but the view is magnificent. It’s family owned so that may benefit you with your clients as well. It also has a rooftop that would look great in the afternoon sun as well as the late evening should the event last longer than expected,” you suggest. “I’ve also read great reviews saying that the food is well prepared too.”

“This could lower your costs for your first event and more money can be reserved for the benefit gala you’re also organizing,” Madeline sneaks in. She’s right, of course. A benefit gala planned by Madeline Kim would require much more than what Mr. Cavallero had said he was okay with spending, but he didn’t need to know that right now.

“Hmm,” he ponders turning around. “This sounds doable. I’d like to see what you can come up with for designs for this new place as well as scheduling a visit to see it for myself. All of this can be done before the initial deadline of securing a venue, yes?”

“Absolutely,” Madeline responds and you keep your composure as you review your mental calendar of events knowing this would be difficult to pull off. Brunch is scheduled a month and a half from today’s date meaning you had to somehow convince Chateau’s to take on your client, create an acceptable menu, and allow you to make any decorating changes within two weeks to make the deadline. Madeline is batshit crazy, but it would have to get done to secure the benefit gala - the whole reason for the company even accepting this contract.

“I can have all the details typed and sent to you within the next week. I’ll also keep the downtown hotel as an option if Chateau's is unavailable for your intended date. I’m sure we can use the rooftop of a hotel to create an intimate setting that your guests would enjoy,” you add. “I would also like to request the location of the benefit gala. I understand this is a very important event for your law firm and I would like to begin drafting plans for your approval at the earliest convenience.”

“Yes, of course. We use the Finca Corte as they have the best grand ballroom in the city. Lewis, please send Miss Y/L/N the past itineraries of the event so she may have a better understanding of the atmosphere we wish to create for our guests.” Lewis nods and makes his own notes, before his wrist watch alarms.

“Ah, Mr. Cavallero. Your 4pm meeting is on time this afternoon. We should leave now so you aren’t late,” Lewis warns. Jonas nods and you all stood to say your goodbyes.

“Please, if you need anything, reach out to Lewis and he’ll get in contact with me so I can answer any of your questions,” Jonas says with a smile as he shakes your hands.

“Of course, Mr. Cavallero. Please feel free to do the same,” Madeline replies though you can hear the tightness in her voice and for the third time, you wonder what her relationship is with Jonas. They had to have had some history for her to always seem on edge in his presence.

“Let me walk you both downstairs,” you offer. J&M isn’t as large as Hastings and Lewis, but there are many twists and turns on each floor that guests could get lost in.

You don’t turn your head as you pass your tiny office space and head for the elevator. You wouldn’t give any of those fuckers your attention in the presence of high quality clientele. It’s cramped inside but not uncomfortable as you ride down from the fourth floor. Jonas turns to you once again as you stand in the lobby.

“Again Miss Y/L/N, if you need anything, please don’t hesitate to ask. Lewis would be happy to answer any of your questions if you can’t get in contact with me,” he says and hands you his business card.

“I actually did have one question before you go. Well two actually. Finca Corte - it isn’t a chain, is it? Just one location?”

“Right. On 17th and Main near the Grande Theatre, but the next block over,” Jonas replies.

“And there’s no need to call and reserve the date? The notes Lewis had given us hadn’t mentioned anything about the date or a deposit,” you state.

“No, the firm takes care of those details. The benefit gala is always reserved for the third Saturday in May every year,” Lewis responds. Three months from now, you think.

“Oh, wonderful. I know you have to get going so I’ll email you any other questions, Lewis. Thank you again. Please return to the firm safely,” you say cheerly and wave. They return it and you wait for them to get into their sleek town car before you let your face fall into a frown. You’d never been to or heard of Finca Corte before, but why did the location seem so familiar? You try not to dwell on it too much as you head back upstairs. There are more pressing matters at hand, like putting James back into the roach-infested place he’d crawled out of. You grin as you head off the elevator.

Rosalia greets you as you enter the old two-bedroom apartment you share. Slipping off your heels that you’re sure has blood crusted into the toes from excessive wear, you scratch behind her ears as she purrs. She’s one of the better things to happen to you in your life and you’re grateful for her little pieces of affection even though you’re positive she had made some attempts to smother you in your sleep so she could have your bed.

“You’re home?” Amaya calls out from her hidden position on the couch.

“Yeah! Did you make dinner?” you ask as you follow your nose to the kitchen where a large pot stews on the stove.

“Of course I did. We all know you’d starve if I didn’t cook,” she says as she bumps you out of the way to check on the food. You mock her as you sit down at the antique metal table that you rarely ate at, choosing to have your meals in the much more comfortable living room on the sofa.

“I could survive!” you yell, trying to defend yourself, but Amaya isn’t having it.

“You couldn’t. Was the lasagna okay today, though?” she asks, changing the subject.

“The best. You should really consider opening a restaurant and forgetting all this computer engineer stuff,” you tell her seriously.

“Ha! As if that would pay off these loans. Either way, this is an investment. Once I’m done with this degree, I’ll be able to program computers to make these dishes for me and rake in a ton of money to get us out of this place,” she says with determination.

Amaya is a third year computer engineering student at Oberman University. Surprisingly smaller than you, she carries as much kick as you do, the two of you getting into numerous instances of mild misdemeanors. Amaya had actually hacked a few systems after she had found out that you weren’t really registered for classes at the University so you could get some credit; she’s a computer genius. Thanks to her, you technically have an Associates degree, but of course Oberman would never grant it to you unless you actually re-enroll. Amaya doesn’t take anyone’s shit though she looks like she’s 12 with her big green eyes and short blunt bob, the bangs a little too long and falling into her eyes.

“Thank you for including me in your plans for world domination, Aya,” you say while taking your hair out of your bun.

“Of course. You know you’re family to me, even though you leave your fucking dishes in the sink,” she replies while placing a piping bowl of beef stew and white rice in front of you. You thank the gods for her as you tuck in, burning your tongue in the process.

“I love you. So, so, so much.”

“Are you talking to me or the stew?” she asks with a laugh as she blows her food to cool it down. You laugh in response. “How was work? Oh my gosh, did you get the project?!”

You grin and nod. “I did!” She squeals in delight and claps her hands. “Though James was extremely displeased. He actually called me incompetent -”

“Hold on. He called you incompetent? Has he seen his progress report? And wasn’t he the one that forgot to submit his file that made that whole project you did a few months ago late?”

“Right. He was so shocked when Madeline announced it was me, even insinuated that I fucked my way to get the position. Kim was heated that Jonas mentioned our meeting while he was in the room though because it was supposed to be a secret,” you explain.

“Of course he would say something like that.” She rolls her eyes. “There seem to be a lot of secrets happening around you. Speaking of which, when do you head back to Spiral to snoop?” Amaya asks. “Do you think you can find anything in the hallway? Maybe you should break into Suga’s office or something,” she suggests.

“Friday night and I don’t think Suga would leave anything lying around like that for me to see again, not after I’m pretty sure he caught me reading his papers a few weeks ago,” you reply, pushing the rice around the plate. That had been extremely careless and might have killed a lead to your mini investigation before it had even begun.

“The one with all that information right? Gosh, I wish you had my photographic brain, that way you could have written down what you had seen and we could solve this whole mystery,” she groans.

“Oh no, Aya. I don’t want you getting involved with this. It seems way too dangerous and you -”

“- have my whole life ahead of me. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know. But I want to know where this guy went. Like what if he’s still out there and looking for you?” she questions.

“I know, I know. I don’t want you worrying about it though. I can handle it,” you promise. “I feel like I’ve seen the address before though, but I can’t figure out where.” You rub your forehead as if you could magically make the numbers appear in your mind again. Aya’s photographic memory really would have come in handy.

“What about the date?” Amaya asks. “Or the name? You said the name was weird, unusual.” You nod. What had it said?

“There was a date, a location, and a name with an amount of money. Like a contract or something,” you sigh. “It looked really similar to the ones we have at work. Fuck. I don’t know. Between this and planning the benefit gala, my brain feels like it’s going to explode.” Amaya laughs as she finishes her dinner.

“Please don’t hurt yourself. It’ll come to you,” she says, giving your shoulder a squeeze. “Well, I have Calc 3 homework to finish and these theorems won’t do themselves so I’ll see you in the morning. Wash your fucking plate,” she finishes and pointes her finger at you. You hold up your hands in surrender as she leaves hers in the sink for you to clean. It’s the least you can do as she made all your meals.

Grabbing your purse and lugging it behind you after washing the dishes, you head to your room, Rosalia following in tow. Surprisingly, your bed is still intact which means that Amaya had made sure Rosalia hadn’t gotten into your room. Bless her. Not that there was much to get into as you the minimum possessions a person could have: a bed, a few photos, and enough clothes to last you a few weeks without doing laundry. You place your files and notepads onto your bed, eager to go and take a shower before organizing your notes in preparation for the debrief you would no doubt have to give to the rest of your colleagues tomorrow.

“Was your day as long as mine, Rosalia?” You scratch her head as she hops up on your bed and makes herself at home between your papers, a few of them scattering to the floor. “Apparently not as you want to make mine even longer,” you murmur as you bend to pick up the loose sheets of today’s meeting notes from the Cavallero project. You pause.

Jonas. That was the name that was on top of the paper in Suga’s office. What would be the odds that the Jonas on the paper would be the Jonas Cavallero you were working for? If that Jonas was the same Jonas, then was the location on the paper one of the events you were working on? How would Suga have that information? You sit against the side of your bed. Unless -

Yanking your phone out your purse’s side pocket, you google “Hastings & Lewis benefit gala”. Just as you’d suspected, the information is public knowledge: the third Saturday of May at the Finca Corte. There is no way in hell that Spiral is catering that event; they weren’t ritzy enough to be hired by the likes of one of the most expensive hotels in the city for one of the biggest events on the city’s calendar. Something is going on and you just know all of this is connected somehow. You just need proof. Maybe Maya is right. You’d broken into a few places before. How hard could it be to get into Suga’s office?

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hecohansen31 · 4 years

Text

Not The Right Time

The Story of How We Ended Up There:

Ivar+Reader (Modern! AU).

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

So this is my second idea for Ivar!

I am honestly a bit attached to this because it is the first one which came to my mind and with it being modern! Ivar I feel a bit more secure about the characterization, but still… let me know where I have to get better or work better!

I also wanted to explain that this is fictional and that some choices made by the reader are due to the plot and not what I actually and personally believe about such a complex argument as abortion.

Don’t feel judged in the slightest by this (and if you feel, please know I don’t mean it, and what I can do to avoid this mistake in the future).

Again this is a prologue to the bigger series, but it is mostly to know whether you like this idea or not!

So if you want more, please leave a comment or a reblog so that I’ll know what you think about it!

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: It wasn’t the right time to have a child and it isn’t the right time for you to meet your child’s father after all those years, but maybe... time and Destiny are two huge bastards.

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, Unexpected Pregnancy, Pregnancy at a Young Age, Mention of Abortion (and Being Harsh About it), Heartbreak and General Angst, Abandonement Issues and Being A Single Mom, Mention of Infertility, Use of the Word Cripple.

You were sure that you were cursed.

Who could end up pregnant… the first time they had had sex?

And worst of all, when you were nothing more than sixteen years old.

You weren’t also the type who would risk such thing.

Although you were naïve you were well-aware of the need to use protection.

And then, in the heat of the moment, you had forgotten about everything.

Just for eight weeks after to cry on the toilet, at the discovery that you were pregnant.

You hadn’t noticed it at first: you hadn’t gotten your period for a month, but you hadn’t thought too much about that, it sometimes happened.

But then, a few weeks after you had started feeling bad, both not energetic enough to do the normal chores and also extremely nauseous, which had then resulted in you thinking that pregnancy might have been a cause of your unwellness.

You had thought for the entire time you had been waiting for the result of the pregnancy test, that it wasn’t possible, it would obviously turn out negative.

You had a successful life ahead of you, a child… wouldn’t ruin your life, but certainly it wouldn’t have ruined all your dreams.

You had been mortified to discover that you were indeed pregnant.

And then you had been indignant: there were people who constantly had unsafe sex, every time they had it and they would never ever end up with a baby on the way.

Then you had had sex once, and shit went down.

Back then you had been scared shitless of telling your parents and had hidden the pregnancy test: what would have they thought of you?

Still you had thought that you had to talk about it with somebody.

And more precisely, the father of the baby.

You and Ivar were the typical high school sweethearts: you had moved slowly from friends-to-lovers and were both late bloomers in the sex department.

Hence when Ivar had wanted to ‘try’, you had been over the moon at that news.

Lately he had grown distant from you, after you had had sex, and some part of you couldn’t help but think darkly that he wasn’t interested with you anymore ‘because he had finally gotten what he wanted’.

But you knew Ivar better than anyone: he might appear like the coldest ice king, but he was sweet and soft with you, shy and gentle, the perfect gentleman.

So, you had thought to at least inform him about ‘the child’, thinking that it was also partially his decision about the baby, although right now some part of you, the one who wanted desperately to continue on dreaming wanted to delete this ‘mistake’.

But some deeper part in you, thought about what a lovely life would have been to share a child with Ivar.

It might not have been perfect, but you felt like it would have been a nice image.

A nice image of your future.

But when you had asked Ivar to meet you at your favorite diner, the one you had chosen for your ‘first awkward date,’ he had also told you that he had something to say to you.

Had he realized that you might have been pregnant?

The entire situation there had seemed rather awkward, Ivar had this acute gaze in his eyes, not to talk about the harsh way his mouth had been closed closed in a thin line for the entire time.

He had arrived late, meanwhile you were halfway through the second of a milkshake you had been having, the pregnancy cravings playing an important role in your diet lately.

“Hey, sweetie!” you had welcomed him, your high-pitched tone, expressing your happiness to have him there, he always fixed your darkest moments “…how are you?”.

Unlike you, he didn’t seem in the mood for any sweetness.

He simply replied with a nod and ‘a fine’, waving the waitress over for a coffee, you stared at him for the entire time: you hadn’t seen him in quite for quite a few days, due to studying, and couldn’t help but set your gaze on him, welcoming any new traits of him and wanting to kiss them, passing a finger through…

“… I don’t have much time, so I’ll say this as quick as I can” and then he had caught you in his icy gaze “… I am not in love with you, anymore”.

An arrow shot through your heart would have hurt you less.

You had stammered some questions, but Ivar had been glacial in his words, definitely not asking for any reply.

“… I have discovered it from quite some time ago, I didn’t want to tell you till I was sure, but these last days… have been… I didn’t miss you” every word was a strike to your hear, and you hadn’t been able to properly protest “… I am sorry, I pulled this for so long, but I can’t…”.

Then and there you had gotten up, probably the best option possible, the only thing of that day that, looking back, you were proud of.

You had been crying on the sofa when your parents had found you, and there you had explained anything that had happened to you.

Child included.

They had been disappointed with you and your father hadn’t talked to you for the entire pregnancy but your mother had been the bigger support for you.

She hadn’t shouted, unlike your father, but just asked what you had wanted to.

‘Do you want to…?’ she hadn’t been able to talk about the option of abortion and you had understood her: she wouldn’t approve of it, but she would have helped through the entire process “… or do you want to keep it, babygirl?”.

“Shelley! Of course, she’ll fucking…! She is too young, she can’t fucking take care of a child!” had retorted your father, and you had covered your ears, shielding them from his hurting words.

It was as if for the first time your father wasn’t seeing his little girl anymore.

And you had chosen to try so desperately to go back to that image he had of you, choosing abortion, but when you had heard the child’s heartbeat, you hadn’t been able to carry on

You had gripped your mother’s hand and pleaded to her not to go through this, not to kill your baby.

Although you’d have to grow it alone, although the heartbreak was still pretty real and although it seemed the worst and you weren’t ready, you just couldn’t delete all this, so simply.

You had taken private lessons to hide your pregnancy, since you hadn’t wanted to reveal it to anyone, avoiding any outings unless you were sure you wouldn’t have been anywhere near people you knew.

The first week after the break-up, Ivar had continued on blowing up your phone with messages and calls, but you wouldn’t even look at his messages, ignoring him till you had convinced yourself to block his number and when he had tried to visit your home to talk, he had been lucky your father was out, and you had pleaded with your mother to fake of not being inside.

You had graduated from high school, one year prior, thanks to all the credits you had collected during the years and had a private diploma ceremony with your family and your pregnant belly.

You had grown to love your baby during the pregnancy: you would talk to them whenever you could, caressing your belly and chatting with them about your day, all the funny stuff you would do together and what the world outside looked like.

The entire birth part scared you like crazy, but you thought it would have been worth it.

And it had been as you had held your child in your arms, after hours of agonizing pain.

They had been forced to cut you open since the child was taking quite his time and you wouldn’t dilatate yourself, enough.

But when you had woken up your mother was lulling him in her arms.

He looked beautiful, having gained two beautiful blue eyes and a smile that made your heart clench.

Too bad that the doctor had taken it from you too early.

‘He seems to have problem moving’ he had mentioned, meanwhile he visited the baby ‘Is there any story of problematic diseases, troubling mostly bones or muscles?’.

‘The father has osteogenesis imperfecta’ had explained your mother, meanwhile you called out for your child ‘… but it isn’t…’.

‘No, sadly it is’ he had explained, meanwhile he gently handled the baby’s legs ‘… I can already feel a few broken bones… this is going to be much more difficult than you might think’.

Your mother had been scared about having to help you up, but you and Erik had just done fine, not without mistakes and problems, but you had managed to love your son and give him a proper life, even with his ‘problematic’.

All of this, without Ivar.

The Lothbrock had moved out on Erik’s first birthday, something which honestly helped you, since the thought of Ivar not meeting Erik stopped your ‘house arrests’ and pushed you out of the house, even more because you had to actually get a job.

Working as a waitress didn’t make enough income to help you with a child and the thought of moving away from your parents (although your mother insisted that you didn’t bother them, you felt that your father wasn’t of the same opinion) was terrifying, so you had taken up to giving some lessons to high schoolers and some more salutary jobs.

You ran all the time around, and had to definitely renounce to going to college, but each night, when you would come home, breathless and tired, to Erik, your sweet child, you knew it was worth it.

For five years it had been perfect.

And then everything changed.

Ivar knew he was already fucking late to the meeting with his brothers.

It hadn’t been properly his fault, although he would rather die than confess to his brother that he had been seeing a fertility clinic with Freydis, to try to start their own family.

The sole mention of a fertility clinic would have raised questions he didn’t want his brothers to ask.

Hhey already seemed to have a feud with Freydis that had been ruining his wedding’s preparations.

He already could hear Sigurd making fun of him for not being able to please properly a woman, which was partially true.

Through the years, his stupid prick hadn’t gotten up for any woman, even his beloved Freydis, the one woman that made him feel a god.

But it had happened once, probably more out of luck than anything.

His first love and the first girl whose heart he had broken.

And you had returned the favor: he reminded the days after he had acted onto his brothers’ wishes, when you wouldn’t answer the phone and pretended not to be at home.

It had been enough for him to feel like you didn’t want him anymore.

Maybe it was why his stupid prick wouldn’t work.

Some of the sex therapist Freydis had brought him to, had suggested that his ‘inability to raise to the occasion’ was due to some rejection his past, so it might have been actually true.

But he didn’t trust any of those doctors.

He simply did it for Freydis, because she still hoped.

He didn’t, anymore.

He walked in the diner, it was a small one, similar to the one of the city he had lived, before he moved in the big city, for work and for many more occasions, but he couldn’t help but regret the beauty of these small places.

They never aged and they always brought him comfort, timeless and always there for jim

He had had his first date in one of those.

(He had also broken up with his first love in one of those).

He still didn’t let himself drown in his thoughts, knowing that going back in time and turning it, was impossible.

(No matter how much, sometimes, he wished he could do so).

He immediately recognized his brothers’ table as the noisiest one, moving straight up to it, not minding the fact that half the eyes of the clients in the diner were on him.

It was one of the many side effects of being a cripple.

“You finally joined us!” exclaimed Hvitserk, talking through a full mouth of food.

“Unlike you lazy asses, I have things to do” he mumbled as Ubbe shifted to make him some space next to him “… can’t survive on father’s paychecks only”.

He sent a direct look to Sigurd, who was using his father’s paychecks to support his (failing) musical career.

“At least I don’t have to be reigned by my girlfriend” muttered darkly Sigurd and Ivar wasn’t able to stop himself from almost attacking him.

Thankfully Ubbe did it for him.

“No need to fight brothers” he stated, readjusting the glasses Ivar had knocked over “Don’t make a scene, we are older than children and we are here to have a nice night among brothers, are we not?”.

“I am here for the free food” muffled Hvitserk, offering a humor relief that made all the brother laugh lightly.

They talked more civilly and then a waitress moved in to ask their orders, but Ivar’s ears were suddenly attracted by another noise, a voice that had belonged in his memories.

Had he left them open?

And then he turned to where the voice came from.

And he saw you.

He remembered you as a sweet girl, what you had been hadn’t changed, except the way you carried yourself, showing a growth, a painful one that hadn’t changed what you believed in.

But it still left signs.

As the scars of a battle.

You had your hair up in a high ponytail, and you were wearing a waitress uniform, probably working there to fund your way to college.

Your eyes were tired, but your lips were crooked in a small smile as you took a small child’s ordination.

He thought he was hallucinating, when Hvitserk again spoke up:

“Is that (Y/N) (L/N)?!” this got all the brothers’ attention to shift to where Ivar was looking, although he wished nothing more than to shield you, because he had discovered you first.

“… oh shit, yeah it’s her” muttered Ubbe, following your silhouette as you turned your back to them to move to counter “… I thought she would be in college”.

“Some people don’t have their parents’ back up, she might be simply working to pay college” muttered Ivar, but nobody seemed to hear him.

“She hasn’t certainly aged a day!” commented Hvitserk, giving your ass a meaningful look “… ahh can you remember when we dared little Ivar, to…”.

Ivar shushed him with a dark look.

But when he was doing this, he didn’t realize that Sigurd was waving you over.

You approached the table smiling, since you and Sigurd had been an unlike friendship, and Ivar still remembered how his ‘most sensitive’ brother had been against the ‘dare’, but as he turned to face you, you seemed to realize who Sigurd was with.

And the soft smile fell from your face.

You seemed to have seen a ghost.

“Oh Gosh, (Y/N), it’s been a lot since we have seen each other!” commented Sigurd, meanwhile your waitress friend asked with her eyes whether you knew these people or not.

You simply nodded, forcing a smile on your face, telling her you would have taken their ordinations.

“Ah it’s been a lot of time, indeed!” you smirked lightly “… I always see you in TV!”.

“… sadly, never winning” muttered Hvitserk “… we weren’t expecting to see you working here!”.

“And I wasn’t expecting you to greet me without your mouth full of food, so we are both surprised by how Destiny has cheated us” you joked back, smirking lightly “… it’s nice to see you, guys, but I haven’t much time”.

Although you were trying to be gentle, it was obvious that their presence was making you nervous and uncomfortable.

Ivar wondered whether it was for what had happened with him.

He couldn’t help but notice the way you avoided any eye-contact with him.

They all quickly gave you their orders and you thanked them, but before you could go away, again Sigurd grabbed your wrist, making Ivar hiss lightly.

“You have been greatly missed, (Y/N)” the simple affirmation seemed to break something in you and you were able to simply bow your head, as you moved to quickly report the order to the counter, before disappearing in the kitchen.

A quick sign that you didn’t reciprocate Sigurd’s thought.

“Well that didn’t go well…” muttered Hvitserk, going back to his food.

“It was strange” muttered Ubbe “… it’s strange… I expected her to be in Europe, she was always so brilliant”.

“Ubbe, what she does is none of your business” muttered Sigurd, for once, his words matching Ivar’s thoughts.

“I just… I mean… she doesn’t seem as the person who is stuck at 21st to serve tables, she was always smarter than that” mumbled Ubbe, again but shushed, as an elder woman brought them their meals.

“You know our sweet (Y/N)?” she asked, probably having witnessed the exchange of words, and Sigurd explained they were old schoolmates “… such a sweetheart, and so strong…”.

“Anything bad happened?” asked curiously Ivar, knowing all too well when to ask and when to stay quiet, and that woman seemed like she wanted so desperately to talk.

“Nothing too bad” mumbled the old lady, pouring some coffee in their glasses “… just… she is so strong for bringing a child on her own”.

The news immediately surprised all the brothers.

Again, you were the smart and hardworking girl, the one that followed the rules and didn’t have any vices, so for you to have a child, so young, didn’t make sense.

You should have been attending the last year of college, hadn’t you already finished it.

The thought of knowing you were already a mom, completely shocked Ivar.

And, although he wouldn’t admit it, he felt jealous at the thought of another man having known you so carnally.

“… oh, we didn’t know” uttered Ubbe “We have lost the contacts, when we moved in another city, after high school ended”.

“If you want, I can tell her that you’d like to get acquainted again” mumbled softly the waitress, probably thinking she was doing something good, something that would have made you happy.

But from the simple thought of your forced smile, a few minutes before, you wouldn’t have been happy in the slightest of meeting them.

And Ivar couldn’t make it a fault to you.

“She is working, we wouldn’t want to bother her or get in trouble, we are going to try to maybe contact her through the socials, but it was good to see her” commented softly Sigurd, smirking gently at the elder waitress, who simply nodded before muttering something under her breath ‘about the usefulness of social’.

As she moved away a deep silence fell onto their tables.

“I didn’t… wow… she never told me” muttered extremely baffled Sigurd.

“Did you stay in contact with her after we moved?” replied harshly Ivar and as Sigurd shook his head “… well then you can’t blame her for having hidden this to you”.

They had obviously lost any right to you, after ‘the dare’.

He, himself, couldn’t blame you.

“…can’t believe it” muttered Ubbe, sipping slowly his coffee, meanwhile Hvitserk nodded.

“Accidents happen, don’t they?” muttered Sigurd. before he proceeded to move their attention away from the thought, although Ivar’s mind was stuck onto that news.

Had you searched the attention of another person, because he had rejected you?

No, you had always been stronger than you seemed.

You wouldn’t have simply searched somebody to feel some love.

You had had to have loved the father of your child.

And the sole thought of it burned his chest painfully.

You were on the last shift of the day, and although usually you were almost happy for the extra tips which would come, this time you would have given everything to change your shift or close early.

It had started as a nice day: Erik’s bones were strengthening themselves from the therapy he had been doing and he had been excited for the soccer training of that afternoon.

Your mother had been also extremely happy to accompany ‘her favorite grandson’: she had been rather blue after your father had left you, both.

Thankfully he had left your family but not the house and the little money your mother had on her own, which had funded your move from the small city to a bigger one.

Sometimes you wondered how much your pregnancy and Erik’s sickness had impacted on your father leaving, but you tried not to think about it.

He hadn’t been held at gun point, he had chosen to leave a faithful wife, a devoted daughter and a wonderful grandchild.

You, yourself, had walked at work happy, thinking about the fact that you had also managed to schedule a meeting with an art gallery.

Through the five years you had been working on improving your culture, although you hadn’t been able to attend college, you had attended some free courses and apparently they were looking for some people to explain the art gallery’s shows, hence you had proposed yourself.

Although you knew there would be many more talented people also attending it, but… you hadn’t felt like giving up.

If you got the job, you might have had to quit one of your many jobs and spend more time with Erik, alongside paying for some new therapies.

Then you had seen the Lothbrocks at one of the tables.

And you had been glad of having met again Sigurd: you sometimes would see some of his performances at lower TV channels, and always joked with Erik about his songs.

Ubbe and Hvitserk had been indifferent to you and you had kept up the same behavior.

But Ivar…

… part of you was worried about him finding out about Erik, solely from your thought.

Back in the day, he used to be extremely intuitive.

And part of you couldn’t help but feel the pain of rejection all over again.

You had tried to find an excuse to avoid them, after the first little chat, although you were aware they would be talking about it: the small town from which you had come from had talked since you had shown Erik to it.

‘She used to be such a good girl’.

‘She used to have such a bright future ahead of her’.

‘She could have been so successful…’.

Blah blah blah.

Although you would discourage people from getting pregnant at such a young age, you didn’t feel like you had lost anything, maybe just pushed it a bit in the future, but you, yourself, had gotten through your own prejudices of being a single and younger mom.

You might have lost something, but your child was a blessing in your life.

So, you just shook off the critics.

You were waiting at the cash desk, chatting amicably with the cook of the diner, the one who made the last turn with you, always having the kind heart of packing something for you, and leaving some sweets for Erik, slowly gaining a little spot in your family, as ‘uncle Will’.

You were also checking the situation at the Lothbrock table, because, whereas all the other clients had already paid or were going to do it soon, they were stalling.

Their meals were finished, and they were chatting, although there would be more silence than actual words, and when you had sent Marlou to ask if they wanted a dessert or more coffee, they had simply replied that they were full.

They were obviously waiting and deciding who had to pay for the meal, who had to come face to face with you.

You almost expected them to start playing ‘paper, rock and scissors’ but finally you heard the distinctive screech of one of the chairs moving, but as you raised your head to see whoever had finally managed to collect their courage ‘to battle you’, you couldn’t help but be a bit nervous to discover it was Ivar.

He looked a bit annoyed, as if he had expected somebody else to volunteer at his courageous attempt, but nobody did and you immediately shut your eyes onto the screen of the cash machine, finding their bill, so that you wouldn’t have to talk with him too much.

He, instead, seemed a bit chatty, although he had that painfully awkward smile in his face he had whenever he was nervous about doing something.

Back in the day when you were together you would rub onto the back of his hand if you were in public to let him know your support, or when you were alone, you would body-hug-attack him.

But those memories seemed so long ago.

“It has passed quite some time” he mumbled softly, trying to chat you up, but you had no interest in conversing with him.

‘I see it on my child’s face’ you wanted to mutter, but again: you couldn’t make Ivar discover about Erik.

At first it had been a petty thought of your broken heart, but the more Erik grew the more you were scared that Ivar knowing of him would take him away from you.

It was irrational, but sometimes you would check out on your child.

You would do it also that night.

“Quite some time, indeed” you shot back, telling him the total and asking whether he would be paying in cash or not.

Ivar seemed a bit taken aback by the coldness in your tone, but reacted to it better than he was used, hiding his pain at your harshness, as he told you he would be paying in cash, keeping up the entire rest of the transaction in silence, meanwhile you opened the cash collected the money, counting it discreetly, printed the receipt.

He tried to do one last attempt.

“… we should come all together one of these days”.

More like hell no.

But you didn’t reject the proposal completely.

“It would be nice” Ivar’s face seemed to regain a bit of color at that affirmation “I am just a lot busy with work, but I’ll see what I can do”.

And with that you passed him the receipt and wished him a good day, turning to the kitchen to fake an emergency there, whereas Will was simply packing you the leftovers which would be your dinner.

You waited there, spying on Ivar, seeing him for the first time in five years properly: he dressed as the industrial magnate he was rumored to become in a few years, expanding his father’s properties, but he didn’t have the face of an happy magnate.

At least Destiny hadn’t given him that.

He indulged a bit on his feet, and pushed a few dollar bills into the tips bucket, something that low key opened a bit your heart to him but didn’t make you feel any less convinced about hiding him from Erik.

You closed the shop alongside Marlou, who continued on commenting about how ‘gorgeous were your school friends’.

‘They were all so handsome! Ahh what a lucky family!’.

‘They could have been your children!’ you had retorted almost receiving an elbow in your stomach from the woman, as she muttered that ‘at least it would have been better than Karl’, her thirty something unemployed son with a permanent place on her sofa.

After you had wished her ‘goodnight’, you had walked till your apartment, rushing a bit both because seeing Lothbrocks had surprised you and both because you couldn’t wait to see again Eric, who had stayed the day with your mom, waiting simply for you at home to tell you all about his day.

No matter how tired or shaken you were, your son’s smile never failed to make you feel a bit better.

---

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375 notes · View notes

zayray030 · 4 years

Text

Do you even care?

Summary: Damian gets stabbed and beaten up by a few bullies at school and is left to die at a back alleyway. While he's bleeding out he thinks of his 'family', his 'friends' and his 'team'

Damian gritted his teeth against the pain in his rib and closed his eyes and tried to keep his breathing steady.

He wonders if his brothers would care if they found him. Found him lying in a puddle of his own blood, bones broken and looking like death had come.

He wonders if any of them would show up at his funeral. He wonders if they would cry. Would they even care to show up? Probably not. They would probably celebrate him going away.

Maybe his father would care. It was after all his idea. His idea for Damian not to fight those bullies. To just let them be. And look where that had landed him.

Broken and bleeding to death in some back alleyway. This really wasn't how he had thought he would die. A second time anyway. He had thought he would die by some huge foe. Or maybe of age. Or another natural cause.

Not because some bully had overpowered him and his friends had taken turns beating the shit out of him. He had wanted to fight back so badly but he hadn't wanted his father to shoot him a disappointed look. He hadn't wanted his brothers or sister to look at him in disgust for hurting the ‘innocent’.

Tt. Says so much about them.

While Damian was bleeding out from a knife wound the bully had given using a rusty pocket knife, he began thinking. About his ‘family’, his ‘friends’ and his ‘team’.

To be fair he didn't even think his family was his… family. They barely even functioned together on a good day. Hell, half of them if not all, hated him. Drake barely gives him the time of day and he continues to think of him as an assassin even after he changed. Even after he proved himself time and time again that he wasn't an assassin.

Todd. Well Todd barely speaks to him as it is. Only to insult him or to ask where the others are. Had he even apologised for shooting him? Probably. Or probably not. Damian couldn't remember with how much blood he was losing. He let out a small humourless laugh.

His father barely even gave him the time of day as it was. He hadn't even remembered his 13th birthday. He hadn't even bothered to ask him normal questions a father asks his son. But Damian couldn't blame his father. He had been the unexpected one. The unplanned one. The unwanted one.

Grayson was another story. He would probably actually care. If he wasn't focusing on someone else. Maybe he was still comforting Wallace after Damian had almost killed him. He couldn't blame Grayson, though. Grayson was very well liked and he attracted people to him like how the planets were attracted to the sun. But Damian was selfish. He just wanted someone to love him. Was that so bad? Probably coming from an assassin like him.

Pennyworth. Now this man Damian knew loved him, no matter his flaws. He would miss their talks and those times they had tea together. Those were the most pleasant moments ever. He would definitely miss those over anything.

Kyle. He would miss her. She had been nice, even though her and his mother hadn't gotten along and he was his father's bastard child. Those two had shared some secrets that they would never tell the others and he had thought that maybe they could get close enough for him to call her mother. Guess it was too late for that.

He then thought of his actual mother. She would think him weak just like grandfather will think. She would probably be disappointed that she hadn't had the honour of killing him again.

He let out a sharp gasp as he tried to shift his body to a more comfortable position but that just agitated the wound worse and Damian couldn't help but feel like crying.

He thought back longer and couldn't help but think about Jonathan. The boy-man- whatever the hell he was now, hated his guts. Well that's what he assumed. People who like you don't normally call you baby Hitler, but who knows? Maybe that's just another thing that's different here and Damian is just a freak for not knowing it.

He thought about the first time they met and the last time they saw each other. Neither had been good. It went, like how Todd would normally say, shit.

He wasn't even surprised though. He couldn't blame anyone for not wanting anything to do with him. If anything Jon was lucky that he got away as quick as he had. He saved himself a shit ton of time being wasted on an assassin.

He thought of his other friends. Colin had been adopted earlier and even though those two had been keeping contact Damian could tell that Colin was happier in his new, normal life away from his. So he cut him off. That's probably the nicest thing he had ever done to someone. Colin’s probably grateful for Damian doing this.

Maps parents have banned her from hanging out with him, not wanting their daughter to be associated with Damian Wayne. He couldn't blame them, really. He honestly thought it was the best decision they made for her and he keeps telling himself that when he sees Maps in the hallways of Gotham Academy and sees her talking to those who make his life a living hell.

Surren was focusing on the magical world and he had barely been giving Damian the time of day. At least when Damian dies then he wouldn't feel hurt. He would probably not even remember him.

Maya had travelled to Africa over a year ago and her and Damian hadn't spoken since after they had had a nasty argument before she had left. Damian felt guilt, knowing for a fact that even though he was a monster, Maya would still feel so bad. Why couldn't he do anything right?

Damian’s train of thought quickly turned to his team and by that time his vision had begun to become glazed and wobbly and he could barely even concentrate on anything without a huge headache. He let out a humourless chuckle and ignored the intense pain the vibrations had sent.

His team was a joke. Him being their leader was a joke. They barely even tolerate him as it was. They hate his guts and Damian could understand that. He would hate him too. They would probably be glad that they could have someone else be their leader instead of him being their leader. Probably be overjoyed at the fact that he had died in the most undignified way possible. Old and New would probably make it an anniversary party.

He thought of Wallace and couldn't help the tears. He had thought what he was doing was the right thing but instead it had done the complete opposite. He wished he could go back in time like the speedster could and apologies for being a nuisance. For being a pain. For being the worst person alive.

His old team had abandoned him the first moment they got, happier with his older brothers, far away away from him. And no matter how badly he wanted to blame them he knew they had every right to want to leave him. He just wished it didn't hurt so much.

Black spots began invading his vision every time he tried to focus on something and it truly was starting to grate on Damian’s nerves.

Suddenly he felt a rush of air next to him and heard a couple of thuds and horrified gasps.

“What the fuck happened!!?!” that voice sounded oddly like Todd and it sounded… worried.

“Todd?”

“And us baby bat.” said Grayson somewhere near him but Damian was too out of it to notice where.

“Don't forget us.” that sounded oddly like Wallace.

“What-what are you doing here?” he asked between gritted teeth as he tried his hardest not to scream in pain.

“Rescuing you, of course! What else!” that sounded like…Jonathan.

“I thought a baby Hitler wasn't worth saving.” he snarled as much as he could considering his circumstances. Shit why the fuck did he suddenly feel cold.

“I’ll deal with you later Kent! For now Damian is my priority.” snapped someone but he couldn't pinpoint who they were.

“Shouldn't all of you be glad?” He was genuinely confused. Why weren't they congratulating Jon.

“Why would we be glad?”

“Cause I'll be dead soon. You all hate me and now that I'm finally gone you won't have to deal with me anymore. It'll be like how all of you wanted.” he didn't know if it was the blood loss making him out of it that he would say that but he knew he didn't have much blood left to blush.

“We don't hate you!”

“Could have fooled me.” another sharp pain shot through him. “Oh shit, that's not good.”

“West, take him to the med bay at the watchtower.”

“Ye sir. How did this even happen?”

“Cause you all told me to let it happen.” when he heard his brothers confused noises he elaborated. “You all told me I should let the bullies do whatever. That I shouldn't use my strength against the ‘innocent’.”

“Fuck we-”

“Not now. Wally watchtower now. Oracle, find the footage. We have brats to hurt.”

And suddenly he was being woodshed away.

Damian couldn't help but think that maybe they did care. Maybe they do love him. Maybe they don't hate him. Maybe Jon still wants to be his best friend. Maybe his teammates don't hate him.

But probably not.

Part 2

Part 3

Part 4

Part 5

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spiltscribbles · 4 years

Text

Metamorphosis

Notes: This was written for the most wonderful, gorgeous and sweetheart babe in the history of ever!!! @omgcmere for her birthday! ILYSM sweetheart! Huge thanks to my babes @pastelle-pvnk and @bibliothesophfor reading over this for me!<3<3

~A reblog is worth a thousand stars~

I am free and that is why I am lost

-Franz Kafka

Henry wakes up the day before classes of his junior year exhausted, hung over, and to a positively shit-eating grin that Pez is boasting while he gleefully pushes open the blinds like the sadistic fuck that he is.

“You’ve become a real tosser ever since making out with my sister last Christmas,” Henry informs him bluntly, stretching out slowly while looking around for his shirt until coming to the realization that the bloke from last night must’ve taken it while on the walk of shame.

Henry really tries his damndest not to think of his ass taking that walk.

“Ah Beatrice, my sun and stars.” Pez magnanimously throws Henry an old henley from his still unpacked suitcase. Tosser status withstanding, He’s still Henry’s best friend, has been ever since freshman year when they found solace in each other being the only two Brits in this entire university— well the only ones that matter, anyhow.

“Oy, did you wake me up at this godforsaken hour just to wax poetic about my sister of all people?” Henry grouses, padding over to their joint bathroom to brush his teeth, wincing only slightly at the already raucous chatter going on in the downstairs of their frat house.

“Believe it or not Haz, dealing with your temperamental arse actually wasn’t on my list to do today,” Pez crows, standing there all put together and fresh and well-rested. Like a fucking monster. “But we’ve got that meeting with the Dean of Student Affairs about the room situation for rush week, and we’re still in that debate with Chi Phi’s president over it.”

Henry glares at the reminder, a spark of fury running down his spine, and perhaps an extra thudding to his heart, but Henry’ll studiously ignore that.

“God damn Alex Claremont-Diaz.”

“Only took you around three minutes to mention him today,” Pez perks with a knowing leer. “I reckon that’s a new record..”

“Get the fuck out, Pez.”

Henry was seven years old when he realized that his family were the sort of folks that end up on magazine covers and the headlines of salacious talk shows— that his dad was a renowned movie star and his ma’s the cousin of the queen of England. Henry was fifteen years old when he first started to hate as much. When a nurse assigned to his father's hospital room leaked his death before the doctor even had time to tell them, his damn wife and kids.

Henry was sixteen and lost at sea when Philip and the bloody queen herself sat down with him to tell him that his public presence required a certain sort of image, a discrete sort of image. An image that didn’t condone printed scarves and lingering hands with the son of a Lord who was two years ahead of him in Eton. Henry was eighteen years old when he ran off to America and learned how to keep everything hush, hush, becoming untethered to all the bull shit surrounding him. When he was accepted to Yale, and joined a fraternity and tried his damndest to emulate some douchebag wanker in the likeness of Philip.

And you know what, it was all going as planned until Henry met the infuriatingly arrogant, and downright mesmerizing boy in the rival fraternity. The one with an upturned nose and such big brown eyes and a delicious sort of half grin when Henry challenges him on something, or keeps him on his toes. Though if Henry’s being frank, he likes it most when Alex is keeping him on his knees, when Henry’s mouth is full and Alex’s lips are preening and he’s spouting out a sort of cursed poetry with every flick of Henry’s tongue and bobbing of his head.

Though that’s irrelevant now in the light of day when they’re on opposing sides and Alex is smirking at him from across the way with such irresistible swagger, sporting Henry’s red t-shirt that brings out the specs of golden in his almost molten eyes.

Henry hates him.

“Good morning, sweetheart,” he calls out, just because he knows it makes Henry flush.

“The room’s ours, you prick,” Henry retorts, beyond mulish.

“It’s so cute when you get all flustered, Fox.”

“I’m not joking around, Alexander! That room’s been Alpha Delta Phi’s every opening week since the bloody eighties.”

“Don’t you think it’s time for a change in venue then?” Alex asks with an owlish blink, sliding lower in his seat so that his legs spread even further.

Oh fuck him. Fuck Alex Claremont-Diaz’s stupid cocky attitude and his stupid fucking face and so what if Henry just wants to just fuck him stupid. He can’t win just because Henry’s a weak, weak man.

“The room’s ours, Alex,” he warns lowly.

“You wanna prove it, pretty boy?”

Henry’s eyes flicker to the clock over the office door. It doesn’t technically open for another quarter of an hour, and they’ve worked with less time in even more compromising positions, so Henry doesn’t think twice when he tugs a very caught off-guard Alex into the bathroom down the hall, praying to God that there are no cameras around here.

“Woah there cowboy, didn’t get enough last night?” Alex grins, hands already down to unbutton Henry’s jeans.

“You’re fucking infuriating,” is all Henry says in answer, swatting Alex’s hands away before going down on his knees and tugging down the abhorrently orange basketball shorts Alex has on. God, if Henry actually cared he’d pull Alex aside and give him a lesson on what’s actually excusable to wear in public.

“Now why don’t you try to stay quiet for once,” Henry tells him in a hush, biting lightly on the skin of Alex’s inner thigh before kissing the spot in penance.

“Psha, you — erm, you like it when I’m loud.”

Henry doesn’t argue, isn’t in the mood to lie. Instead he takes him in slowly, tongue lapping around Alex’s tip and pushing down with precision.

“Ah, yeah H,” Alex blurts, about two octaves higher than his normal speaking voice, as his head hits the stall, a shaking hand curled in Henry’s hair while the other one is clenched tight around his shoulder.

Henry lets one of his hands wrap around the base of Alex’s cock as the other inches to Alex’s admittedly fantastic ass, wants this done quick and sloppy and to teach Alex a lesson that he can’t just win every argument by sitting around looking like some sort of brought to life Grecian statue.

“Henry— H,” Alex comes too close to whining, tugs harder on his hair and cants his hips forward. He at least has the decency to look sheepish. “You really need to calm down or I’m,” Alex falters right then, eyes going blown when Henry’s first finger dips into his asshole, hooking in deep before Henry takes a mouth full of him again. He repeats the action another two and a half times before Alex has to frantically tap on his head in warning, and Henry gets to stand up — more than a bit smug — smirking down at a boneless Alex who’s using the stall as his only support.

“I reckon while you clean up here, I’ll go speak with the dean on the behalf of Alpha Delta Phi,” Henry tells him, swiping his mouth with the back of his hand to get rid of the pre-cum still found there.

Alex’s brows hike up as he slowly realizes what Henry has done, breathless while he spews out a fuming, “Bastard.”

“Least you got a consolation prize love,” Henry goads, kissing him full on the mouth before adjusting himself and walking back out to the office.

Alpha Delta Phi gets the room just like they have for the past half century, and Alex fucks Henry senseless for the next week. Balance is restored.

Henry thinks it’s important to note that this thing he has with Alex — well, it’s not even a thing, really. They’re fuck buddies, but no. That would imply that there is some sort of camaraderie found between them, when simply there just is not. It’s a thing of convenience, truly.

The fact of the matter is that they find one another ridiculously hot, but also can’t stand a prolonged conversation without feeling the burning need to wring the others neck by the end of it. They realized as much halfway through freshman year when they had the same English lit class and Henry had to be physically restrained by Pez when Alex was arguing against Henry’s point about Hemingway being oversaturated and a blowhard.

“He’s a classic,” Alex had charged, the snow of early February in New England cascading in his dark curls and catching in his long lashes.

“He’s only adored because he’s got a dick! Why don’t you read Austen or at least a man who has something to say!” Henry had fumed.

“Let me guess, you like Metamorphosis?”

“What do you have against Kafka?” Henry gaped, only just beginning to notice the others eyeing the pair of them. And yeah, it might’ve been bewildering how they’re arguing about literaries from centuries passed in the middle of a bonfire party, but people need to learn how to mind their own fucking business.

“Well dude, if we’re speaking about blowhards, he’s definitely the king of them,” Alex had snorted loftily, taking a swig of his spiked hot chocolate.

“Don’t call me dude,” Henry had sniffed, which made Alex squint at him, more than a bit amused.

“Okay, tell me, does Prince Douche do anything for ya, pretty boy?”

That was the first night Henry grabbed Alex by the collar and showed him what it meant to be an actual blow hard. And well….they never stopped. They didn’t stop the sniping at each other or the razor-tipped barbs being volleyed around, and especially not the fucking. Never the fucking.

But yeah, it’s not really anything, especially not the best thing. It could never be that. And not even just because his shitty family basically told him straight up that Henry could never actually come out in the public eye, Henry’s accepted that, has learned how to slink around those rules to live in some sort of happy purgatory. But the thing is, Henry’s just not a good boyfriend. He’s always too in his own head and he’s not really that attentive, and besides all that, Henry didn’t come to university to meet some bloke and live some gay romance story from the 1900s.

Henry’s here at university to get a degree, to become someone. He’s here because his father always told him to reach for the heavens, to do something beyond himself. Henry wants to be the next great literary, wants to write something that matters, that makes a difference. Something that’ll make Beatrice laugh with no more worry eclipsing the sound, and maybe even something that’ll bring the stars back in his mother’s eyes. Henry wants to say something that’s worth being said.

Henry doesn’t want to have anything getting in the way of that, preventing him from becoming someone important. But regardless, it’s not as if Alex has ever seen Henry as more than a good lay, has made it abundantly obvious throughout the year and a half of their sleeping around. Most notably, that three month interlude when Alex began dating that boy from the student government, Liam whoever, at the end of last term. Though to be frank, Alex was always far out of Liam’s league, and the week that followed their breakup included some of the most dynamic and mind-blowing sex Henry’s ever experienced.

But that’s irrelevant.

Alex and Henry are only a last resort to one another, and it doesn’t have to mean anything more, it doesn’t have to be complicated, Henry hates it when things get complicated.

Henry’s in the midst of editing his term paper on the impact that Woolf created in the discussion of gender in Orlando when he gets a text from Pez telling him to “stop being a robot.”

Glaring, Henry ignores the text from Beatrice about David, and the email regarding alpha Delta Phi’s first charity function for this term, and the half dozen snapchat notifications from Alex alone. He instead moves to reply to Pez with a middle finger emoji before he’s accosted by a pair of hands wrapping around his eyes.

“Guess who?” an ever-amused and incredibly buoyant voice asks.

“A prick?” Henry replies in a deadpan, making it so Alex cuffs him on the back of the head.

“Say dick you douche, you’re in America now,” he commands, taking a seat besides him in the almost empty top floor of the silent library.

“Fuck off,” Henry hisses, rubbing the tender spot. “And since when are you in the library this late?”

“You mean at three in the morning?” Alex says pointedly. “Never, because I’m normal and not a school-obsessed freakazoid like you.”

Henry sticks out his tongue in retaliation because he’s too groggy to come up with anything clever.

“And yet?”

“I’m a good person and dropped off a spare key to a brother who’s wigging out about a midterm,” Alex says, studying Henry with a peculiar amount of intensity. “Saw your pale ass haunting this place like a ghost and thought I’d bug you a little.”

“What is it?” Henry asks moodily, surprised at the lapse of silence that follows before Alex shrugs in answer.

“You’ve got some nasty circles under your eyes, white boy,” he says, not quite as crude as usual but Henry still glares in exasperation.

“So what? You got up in the middle of the night just to help a friend and criticize my looks?” Henry says with a huff, rubbing his strained eyes, only just starting to feel the exhaustion weighing heavy on his shoulders.

“I was at Nora’s place, so I was already up,” Alex says, unwittingly making it so Henry stiffens.

It’s not unusual for them to discuss each other's conquests, but it’s different when it comes to Nora. Henry knows that she and Alex had dated for a stint freshman year before the two of them crossed paths. She’s a gorgeous and fierce computer sciences major with a minor in mathematics. There’s no way in hell that Alex isn’t still carrying a torch for her, which is fine and all, it’s not like Henry and Alex are anything beyond occasional hookups, but yeah— it still makes it so something uncomfortable is squirming right beneath the surface of his skin. And God does Henry hate it.

“How is she?” Henry asks evenly, ignores the way Alex is searing a hole into the side of his head while Henry adjusts the syntax of one of his topic sentences.

“Fine,” he says in the same detached sort of inflection. “You’re working on that paper for your gender lit class?”

“It’s due tomorrow morning,” Henry answers.

“Haven’t you been done with it for, like, a week?” Alex asks.

“Haven’t you heard that revising is the only way to get a decent paper?” Henry sniffs.

“Dude, I think you’ve edited enough,” Alex snorts. Everything always coming so fucking easy to him, it’s maddening. He’s gorgeous and charming and brilliant and he doesn’t even have to try. But worst yet, it’s not even a big deal to him. Even if he weren’t all those things he never had a family name to live up to, was never expected to be something he was not. Henry’s so fumingly envious but also so goddamn lost on him and how it is he’s come to be.

“Alexander, is there a purpose for this ridiculous conversation?” Henry lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I really need to get back at this.”

“And what? Not sleep till tomorrow?” Alex snipes.

“If you don’t say anything worth my while in the next five seconds, I'm putting my earbuds back in and ignoring you,” Henry tells him point blank. “Five, four, three—“

Alex’s face goes a furious scarlet, jaw set, before he gets close enough that his breath skirts against Henry’s lips, and his hand finds its way to the front of his trousers.

“I’d really like it if you’d let me jerk you off right now.”

It's Henry’s turn to burn red.

“What?”

“Do I need to repeat myself?”

“We’re in public.”

“We’re in a dark library in the middle of the night and your weird ass always picks the corner surrounded by the shelves.”

“It’s always quietest,” Henry argues weakly.

“Bet we can change that,” Alex counters smugly.

Henry has already admitted that he’s a weak man, so he’s not surprised when Alex’s challenge actually works and he’s led to the most concealed corner with heated kisses and impatient grappling tugging him closer.

“You’re unruly,” Henry whines when Alex bites down at the hinge where the column of his neck meets his shoulder.

“And you’re really sexy when you’re all focused and nibbling down on that pen,” Alex leers, pulling himself and Henry out of their pants. “Really gets a guy imagining things.”

Henry swallows down, hard.

“What sorts of things?” He asks lightly.

“You know H,” Alex croons, gets a hand locked around each of them, knocking the breath out of Henry and making it so he’s gripping at the shelves, bracketing Alex on either side. “You get this little dent between your brows,” he leans forwards and nibbles against Henry’s neck once more. “’S the same one you get right before you cum.”

“Oh yeah?” Henry asks, pleads as he jerks into Alex’s hand, watching the moonlight dancing in his hair and tracing his strong features with a romantic sort of gentleness. Holy fuck, is he beautiful.

Okay, so Henry might’ve said that last part out loud, but he doesn’t even care because Alex’s grin goes lopsided, and he kisses the corner of Henry’s mouth and everything goes a blinding white when Alex strokes him over the edge.

“You are really something, Henry Fox,” Alex says in a voice that’s caught between befuddlement and a sort of wondrous intrigue. Henry can’t really reply though, feels heavy and sated and like he really wants to curl up with Alex. But that’s a ridiculous notion and Henry needs to get those thoughts out his mind or else this’ll all be ruined.

“You’re like an orgasm fairy,” Henry tells him in a yawn.

“I want that for my epithet,” Alex winks, gently pushing Henry’s overstimulated cock back into his briefs and zipping him back up. “I’m calling one of the vans if you want to join, our houses are the same way,”

Henry blinks, confused. “I can’t,” He tells him with a hint of irritation. “I’ve got to finish that paper.”

Alex frowns fully now, pinning him with a one-eyed squint.

“You look like you’re about to drop dead.”

“This’s how I always look after sex,” Henry contends, unconvincing to his own ears.

“You’re gonna run yourself into your own grave if you don’t give yourself a break,” Alex tells him, near fuming.

“Then that’ll be my own doing,” Henry says, steadfast.

“That’s fucking psychotic,” Alex hisses and Henry hates how he can’t understand why this, being here, being worth something greater than just a jumble of letters and familial connection, is so important to Henry.

“’S not your life to live,” he shrugs, turning away from Alex.

“You don’t have to be the best to be worth anything, Henry,” he calls after him, cutting and cruel and careless.

Henry feels like he’s been caught out, like he can’t breathe. And how dare Alex, how dare he pretend that their situations are at all similar. Like there aren’t chasms separating them.

“Fuck you, Alexander.”

“I mean that’s all you ever want, isn’t it?”

There’s a sound like Alex kicking a chair but Henry doesn’t know for sure, refuses to turn around and check.

It’s been two weeks since the library incident.

Neither of them has texted first, not even glancing in the other’s direction in the one class they share. And it’s good, it’s fine, it’s whatever. Henry’s never wanted anything more than a consistent fuck, and Alex has got dozens of options of incredibly pretty and incredibly smart and incredibly affable people just like him. He doesn’t need Henry and Henry doesn’t need him.

It’s fine.

“It doesn’t look fine, mate,” Pez tells Henry that Friday night with knit brows and a worried expression splayed out all over his face. Henry doesn’t answer in so many words, just tosses him the bird instead. “Right, good talk.”

“It’s nothing, Pez,” Henry insists, taking a drag of his joint and pretending that it helps.

“Then come to the party with us tonight, yeah? It’s Spencer’s birthday and I know he’d be a total mess if you actually tagged along to get drunk with us commoners.”

Henry glares with feeling but accepts the offer merely to prove his point that whatever happened between him and Alex means nothing.

Admittedly, that notion might’ve been thrown out the godforsaken window when the party goes into full swing and Henry finally catches sight of Alex near the beer pong table, laughing with Liam of all fucking people.

They look happy, happier than Henry’s ever seen him.

Henry feels cold all over.

He doesn’t know why he’s acting like this, doesn’t understand the reason why his stomach’s twisting into knots and his veins are spiking with a truly awful emotion and why his ribcage has cracked open, screaming at Alex, telling him to notice, to look at Henry, to see that he’s here, dammit. To see that Henry’s here and whole and has so much to give him even if it looks like the contrary.

Henry doesn’t understand any of it, so he ignores the feelings and races up stairs to his room, crossly slamming his door shut and cursing at his own stupidity.

Like he does whenever he’s overwhelmed, Henry grabs for one of the novels lining his shelf and gets lost in the fictitious lives penned in black and white, lives far away from his reach, lives that Henry could get lost in studying and forget his own for only a little while. It’s what he did when Bea and Philip were doing grown up things and he was stuck at home all alone. What he did for days on end in the hospital room, reading to his father while he faded away bit by bit. It’s what he did to forget the fact that his own brother wants him to hide himself in all his varieties of light.

It’s the one constant in Henry’s life and he does it now, gets lost in the words and tries to forget the throbbing to his own heart.

It’s the first time it doesn’t work.

Henry doesn’t know how much time passes when his door creaks open and he looks up to a face he put to memory long ago, even if he pretended otherwise.

“Alexander?”

“Cinderella,” he grins, slow and warm like molasses. “‘How cruel, your veins are made of ice water, and mine are boiling.’”

Henry’s heart feels like it’s just lodged into his throat, his eyes never leaving Alex’s own.

“Excuse me?”

“Wuthering Heights,” he says nonchalantly with a one-armed shrug while stepping closer into the room and pushing the door shut. “It’s your favorite book to read when you’re overwhelmed.”

Henry’s lips pinch, sitting up completely now, regarding Alex fully. “Is that right?”

“Mhmm. You like Sense and Sensibility when you’ve done well on a paper. And you have a secret copy of Little Women stuffed under your bed for whenever Bea messages you and you begin to miss her.”

“Don’t tell me you’re a stalker, Alexander,” Henry says, pretending that the butterflies swarming in his belly are just from nerves of speaking to him after so long and not from the pleasure of him knowing Henry without his evening realizing it.

“You’re not that difficult to figure out, Fox. I’ve told you: you’re just a bimbo with great legs and an accent that makes people think you know two shits about anything.” Alex flops stomach first on Henry’s bed, his head resting up against Henry’s thigh. It’s against Henry’s will when his hand moves forwards to card through Alex’s mussed curls.

“Charming, you’re truly so charming, Alexander. Do you know that?” Henry says blithely.

“The newspapers call me charismatic,” he smirks airily, making it so Henry can’t help but snort.

“Prick.”

“Says the guy who ghosted me,” Alex counters.

“The phone works both ways, love,” he says condescendingly, hating how something golden and splendid is coiling somewhere deep inside of him, merely to due with Alex’s presence.

“Pfft.” Alex gets up now so that they’re face to face, brown eyes boring into blue. “Do you know what you told me after the first night we slept together?”

Henry doesn’t have the slightest clue, so he just shrugs helplessly. “You’ve got a good mouth?”

“Shut the fuck up, you ass. I’m being serious.”

“So am I?”

“You called me a fucking distraction,” Alex hurls, like it’s been something that’s been clawing against him for a while now, itching to be spoken, clacking against his teeth and finally pouring out with vengeance. “You said you had to do well in your studies and you didn’t need a distraction.”

Henry furrows his brows, confused to the point he’s trying to make.

“And you agreed, if memory serves me well,” He says defensively.

“Yeah, because I wasn’t about to be rejected by some rich, pretty boy.”

“I hope you thought a bit more of me than that,” Henry teases, inches closer to him so that the tips of their fingers touch on the bedding.

“You also have a truly remarkable shoulder-to-waist ratio.” Alex shrugs, and Henry knows he’s trying to be a shit, but he still preens. Likes the reminder that Alex is just as much into him as he is Alex.

“I don’t see what’s wrong here.”

Alex shoves at Henry’s forearm, hard.

“The problem, you prick, is that for some fucked-up reason I was actually into you, like a lot.”

Henry’s head swings up from where it was lazily gazing at Alex’s lips, waiting for a chance to kiss them.

“Like truly into me? Like you want to go steady and out on dates and spend the night in my bed?”

“I mean, whatever the non-old man sounding equivalent of that is,” Alex tacitly agrees, head cocked like he’s trying to parse out Henry’s own feelings.

And for his part, Henry can’t believe what he’s hearing, what Alex’s saying, what he’s confirming. This must be a dream, a figment of Henry’s imagination. Stuff like this doesn’t happen to him, they happen to the protagonists of his favorite stories, not real life.

“Wh—What? Why?”

“Dude, that’s what I’ve been asking myself for the past year and a half,” Alex gripes, rocking back; Jesus fuck, he’s nervous. He’s just admitted all his feelings like that and he’s waiting for Henry to either confirm or shoot him down. Henry’s the one with the upper hand here, and it’s awful.

Holy fuck.

“You—you said you liked me,” Henry says tentatively. “But now, do you—erm, ahem,” Henry coughs awkwardly, and Alex is gracious enough to answer the unspoken query.

“I didn’t break up with Liam last semester because he didn’t root for the Cowboys, dumbass.”

“Oh,” Henry blinks, befuddled, which makes Alex roll his head back so fiercely that Henry’s afraid he might strain something.

“I broke up with him because I’ve got this massive, irrecoverable, disgusting thing for this blonde prick. A douche who puts too much on his shoulders and tries to prove something to someone who isn’t even here, and who is so goddamn dense that I have to spell my feelings out to him like he’s actually a frat bro instead of just pretending to be.”

Henry feels himself going scarlet, feels it how his heart blossoms with wanting, unrestrained and painful in its ferocity.

“But Nora?”

Alex’s face goes blank, and then a sickly green color. “Dude, why are you bringing my sister’s girlfriend into this?”

“Wait—You’re not? I thought you still had a, erm—a thing for her?”

“She’s not the one I just gave a Twilight-level cringe speech to, is she?” Alex harrumphs, crossing his arms and scowling at a point over Henry’s shoulder.

“So, you really like me?” Henry asks hopefully.

“I swear to God, Fox: if you don’t tell me how you feel in the next five seconds I’m going to—“

Alex stops speaking right then, is interrupted by Henry’s slamming lips and desperate palming and long limbs tangling into one another.

“You’re a monster,” Alex pants once Henry’s lips finally unlatch from his and Henry’s almost tearing off his shirt.

“I can’t believe you actually want this,” Henry says in contrary. “I’m a mess, you do realize as much, don’t you?”

Alex looks endeared when he smiles, shrugging helplessly. “I like messes.”

Henry can’t help the laugh he lets out, relishes when Alex finally gets a good hold of him and lays him back so that they’re pressed skin to skin and he’s spouting out nonsense about Henry’s eyes and mouth and dick, each point punctuated with a kiss across Henry’s protruding collarbone, helps him shed off the last of his clothing.

“You’re so fucking gorgeous,”Alex marvels, making Henry’s cheeks redden and causing him to hide it by kissing along Alex’s jaw.

“I’ve liked you for so long,” Henry can admit in the blanket of night, is soft when he slants their lips back up against each other, back arching when he feels Alex pressing inside of him, stretching him out. He’s always so gentle with Henry, even before this was supposed to mean anything. But, holy fuck, who’s he kidding––this has always meant something, even when Henry pretended otherwise.

“You’re the most stubborn fuck I’ve ever met,” Alex tells him, making it sound like an exaltation. “You always had your mind set, know exactly where you’re gonna go.”

Henry groans when Alex puts in the second slicked up finger, followed quickly by the third.

“Ah-Alex, ‘Lex, please.”

“You’re so smart and beautiful, and you have such a good heart.” Alex just keeps on talking, only stopping occasionally to pepper a kiss on a spot around Henry’s face.

Henry feels his eyes prickle with wetness, knows that it’s a combination of feeling so much and feeling so exposed, so open in Alex’s eyes.

“You’re amazing, sweetheart,” Alex whispers, kisses the tears away before he lines up and thrusts into him, something this side of painful with the first couple canting of the hips, until he hits that miraculous point that makes Henry’s insides go feral and something ferocious unfurl within him.

“Alexander, please. Please, love, please,” Henry pleads, hands scratching against Alex’s back and head tossed with yearning.

“You’re so good, so perfect, Henry,” Alex says like an oath, pushing deeper and harder into him, biting down on Henry and making him shout as he cants his hips up to meet each of Alex’s own.

Alex is spouting out a new round of praises towards Henry’s brilliance and butt and beauty and Henry can hardly handle it, feels the white streaks landing on his belly right before Alex begins speeding up in a graceless round of thrusts, finishing with a blown out expression, slowly pulling out and tossing the condom to the trash bin beside the bed.

He collapses half on top of Henry but he doesn’t mind, moves slightly so that the blanket is covering the both of them and kisses Alex’s shoulder tenderly.

“I think I might love you,” he whispers, snuggling closer to Alex.

“Good,” he yawns, slings an arm around Henry’s torso and curves against him. “Makes us even.”

Next week Henry calls Philip and tells him to kiss his ass, and that he doesn’t have to prove shit to anyone.

“You’re sexy when you’re mad,” Alex tells Henry when he hangs up.

“You always think I’m sexy,” Henry sniffs loftily.

“Guilty as charged.” Alex shrugs, pulls up to kiss him senseless once more, making everything go delirious.

#FIRSTPRINCE #Red white and royal blue #Henry Fox Mountchristen Windsor #Alex Claremont Diaz #RWRB #YAY I FIXED IT #IT WASN'T SHOWING UP ON THE TAG #RIP #BETH BABE I LOVE YOU SO MUCH #!!!#SPILT INK

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ofhoneyandrosepetals · 4 years

Text

We Move Lightly - 12

Pairing: Modern!Ivar x reader

Description: Y/N moved back in with her parents, after 7 years of taking care of her grandparents in another town. She had no idea how her neighbors would be, or who would they be, or even that she would fall in love with one of them.

Warnings: no warnings; I guess we’re all used to a little swearing, right? But there are mentions of a possible boner.

Word count: 3,693.

A/N: you can keep up with the fic with the link to the masterlist in my bio! It’s a different content and I hope you enjoy the chapter! Also, the second half, which I wrote a long time ago, I did it thinking of @akamaiden and the day she said to me how much she likes Amy. I hope you like her special too, Mari. <3

Ivar was remembering the last day with Y/N, him in top of her, the way she giggled and moved under him, her fingers tucked under his loose long hair, her sighs through every kiss. That was enough to give him a boner, and the thought of that was overwhelming.

That was a delicate subject for Ivar, and he struggled with agony like a man in a battle who wouldn’t reach Valhalla and suddenly realized it.

If he could name one insecurity, that was it. Not the lack of inexperience, but the lack of actually being able to do that. He had some shitty bad experiences in high school and those things still haunted him sometimes in the present days. It was something he thought he could never tell her. Because of it he thought, so many times, to end it. To just stop going around her like an idiot and give some shitty excuse, because that’s what guys did, right? It was what Sigurd and Hvitserk did all the time.

But Ivar didn’t want to be that type of guy and especially towards her. She didn’t deserve that kind of behavior, but she also didn’t deserve a guy who couldn’t do that.

It was during these thoughts that Ivar always got attached to what his mother always said to him: “you deserve a chance, too, Ivar. And no, that is not selfish.”

But how could it not be selfish? His mother always said that, but before Y/N’s appearance into his life.

As a teenager Ivar felt that it was somewhat ridiculous and childish to be so close to his mother, but those feelings were just a phase - which didn’t prevent him to be even closer to Aslaug; he just never showed it outside his home. Nothing could ever break the bond between him and his mother.

Aslaug, almost losing her baby at birth and almost dying as well, had a protection feeling towards Ivar that her other sons, growing up, envied the given attention. Now, all of them grown up, they didn’t care about it much anymore - they understood.

Not that Ivar could say the very same about Sigurd, but who cares?, Sigurd’s a prick who still seeks for attention.

Basically, Ivar was in a relationship with Y/N and he still didn’t know how to feel about it. He was so freaking afraid. Afraid of disappointing her, afraid of him disappointing himself.

But last night… Last night was a good sign, right? Maybe it was a thing just in his head. And what if she is the one?

“The one…” Ivar said lowly, smiling a bit afterwards.

He couldn’t say what she had that made him like her so much.

It was just those fragments of seconds in that night in his house, when he encountered her at the stairs. That was enough - it was like she was made out of a dream. After this first shock, her naivete stamped on her face was what caught his attention. He also sensed some “anti-Lothbroks” in her, which he found it was pretty funny - and adorable.

Not wanting to brag himself or whatever shit, but he wasn’t like his brothers - naming Hvitserk and Sigurd -, and he wanted to show her that. Not to win her, but just to show. Because suddenly, he cared. She seemed to be such an amazing girl and he wanted like crazy to get to know her.

And she obviously didn’t like his family.

But now? Her best friend was hanging out with Ubbe and Hvitserk - yes, of course he knew it - and Y/N even came to his brothers’s birthday commemoration.

If she thought Ivar was like them, then she would’ve never agreed to go out with him and they would’ve never had those moments together. They wouldn’t be where they are at the moment.

So now he had two good points.

If that didn’t proved that she liked him indeed, then what would?

Plus, there was the canvas.

Yes. The canvas.

Ivar sighed.

“Am I some lucky bastard?”

“STOP TALKING TO YOURSELF, YOU IDIOT!” Hvitserk roared from his room, next to Ivar’s, slamming the wall. Seconds later, Ivar’s door opened. “Look: Amy is great, I like her, but I just can’t stand her anymore talking about Y/N and her love for you. I don’t know what that girl saw in you, but she does like you, you fucking twat, so stop with that emo vibe. She likes you, you like her - all for real -, this should be enough.”

“I can see what made Amy be with Ubbe, but with you it’s something that still troubles me.”

“If it troubles you than it means you think about it, which means you’re a weirdo.”

Ivar smiled at his brother, his shoulder supporting himself at the door frame.

“Stupidities apart, I mean it,” Hvitserk says. “I know how you’re feeling about all that, Ivar. I was there too, with you. I know you’re probably…” Hvitserk shook his head, afraid of saying the wrong thing to Ivar. “Afraid, I don’t know. But Y/N is Y/N, she’s an amazing sweet girl, good-hearted soul. If,” Hvitserk stopped, afraid to continue.

“Go on,” Ivar said harshly.

“If what you are afraid of happening, really happens, I have doubts that she’ll even care. And if this matters to her, I’m pretty sure she wouldn’t be mean. It’s just not her personality, Ivar,” Ivar clenched his jaws. He understood Hvit, but the thought of it was painful. “I’m sure none of it will matter, bro. You deserve a chance. You deserve to be happy, damn it.”

“What if…”

“Enough of what if. If what if, she wouldn’t have a broken heart. Maybe only if you end up things”

“But I would have a broken heart.”

“You think you would. You wouldn’t,” Hvitserk sighed. “Enough of it already, Ivar; everything will be fine. Now, man to man,” Hvit stepped inside the room and shut the door behind him. He grabbed Ivar’s chair and sat at the end of his bed. “Did you ever… you know…” Hvitserk gestured towards his own dick. Ivar thought to play it a little hard.

“Come on Hvit, that should be fun,” he said in a mocking tone. “What is it?”

“I know you know what I mean,” Hvitserk pointed a finger at Ivar.

“I don’t know what you mean,” Ivar raised his shoulders. “I’m just a cripple who couldn’t get laid after his legs got fucked up.”

“Come on Ivar, that’s just mean.”

“I don’t think so. You guys say it all the time.”

“I don’t. Sigurd is the one who does. Stop joking around, you little prick. With her, did you ever felt… you know, a thing down there?” Ivar raised an eyebrow at Hvitserk. “Gods, did you two ever get to a point where you could feel it?” Ivar laughed.

“I think so,” he passed one hand through his hair.

“You think so?”

“Every time I touched her I always felt a little excited.”

“You’re just a perv, then.”

“Shut up, not that way,” Ivar threw a pillow at him. “I always felt like my nerves were throwing a damn rave, and when I kissed her the first time it was like the party exploded and I was in combustion.”

“That’s… one way to put it.”

“I’m not a damn poet, Hvitserk.”

“You sure read a lot,” Hvit looked at Ivar’s bookshelf. One book was missing.

“Yeah, horror.”

“No wonder you described it as being in combustion.”

“Every time I kiss her is like the first time, Hvit,” Ivar continued, ignoring Hvit’s comments. “Yesterday she came in, and we were on the bed…”

“Did you made out?”

“Yes, Hvitserk. We were kissing.”

“Did you touched her?”

“Meaning…?’

“Did you touch her?”

“It was not an intimate touch, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“Okay,” Hvitserk had in his face an air of someone who was professional in the subject.

“I was on top of her…”

“A good leg day… Go get her, tiger!”

“Hvitserk I fucking swear to all the Gods I’ll kill you if you keep interrupting me to act like a teen boy,” silence. “Thank you. It wasn’t a big deal, I was just in top of her, and we were kissing, her fingers were tucked in my hair, her thighs clenched against each other as mine were in each side of her body, her sighs…”

“There’s your poet side,” Ivar gave Hvitserk a deadly look. “Got the message,” he raised his hands.

“It just came, man. It’s not something I’m used to, but I knew what it was and what it meant.”

“You got a boner.”

“I got a boner.”

“Were you afraid she could knew it?”

“She definitely couldn’t see it, and I don’t think she felt it. Plus…”

“Oh, there’s a plus.”

“There’s a plus. Mom knocked on the door and I kinda lost my balance…”

“You fell, didn’t you?” Ivar nodded. Hvitserk laughed. “I’m pretty sure mama’s knock made your boner disappear like that,” Hvitserk snapped his fingers.

“I got fucking nervous, man. But I kinda hurt my leg and Y/N kissed my knee. She was so sweet, and I could never imagine all her sweetness would get me like that.”

“Two boners, then?”

“Yep.”

“So what are you afraid of?” Hvitserk, plain like that.

“Kinda direct, huh? I don’t know. What if the time comes and I can’t do it?”

“There,” Hvitserk started shaking a finger at Ivar. “There it is the what if again. You can be nervous, but I don’t think your dick isn’t going to work. You just… need to relax. Don’t rush, so you won’t be so nervous.”

“Yeah… Thanks, Hvit.”

“Come on, man. I’m glad you talked to me about it.”

“Because you’re the professional, right,” Ivar rolled his eyes.

“Hey, you’re the one who’s saying it,” Hvitserk slapped Ivar’s foot. “By the way we’re throwing a barbecue in two days, I’m inviting Amy,” Ivar raised a questionable eyebrow. “Just invite Y/N. You guys look cute together. I guess you’re getting pretty close, huh?”

Ivar looked at his window where he could see her room. She was in front of her mirror, tilting her head. Then, she looked at her window, but couldn’t see Ivar on his bed. She looked back at the mirror and started moving it. Ivar laughed. So that was what went through her mind when she looked over his window yesterday, when she got all jumpy.

“I can say so, yes.”

“Text her,” Hvitserk said before leaving. And so Ivar did it.

Barbecue this week? How do you feel about it?

Her response was immediate. Ivar looked at the window, but he couldn’t see her. I feel like your family is stuffing me with food. But...

But…?

But we already have your brothers’s parties. The ones that they’re still probably fighting about, she said we. She included herself and Ivar as together. As a couple. I’m definitely not used to it, he thought gently.

What if I say I managed us to skip both Hvitserk’s and Sigurd’s birthday parties this weekend?

You did it?

I did it.

Thanks god, Ivar laughed at her reaction. Okay, then. I’m in. The barbecue, I mean. Should I text Amy about it?

I don’t think so, Hvitserk said he’ll do it.

Oh… Hvitserk. So you know.

Yeah, I think everybody knows except for Ubbe.

Poor Ubbe…

He’ll live.

Just like Amy said. She thinks he’s still in love with his ex, and Amy was probably right. Ivar knew his brother.

But hey, if anything goes sideways I’ll rescue you and we escape with my carriage, Ivar quickly changed the subject.

Sideways? Why would things go sideways?

It's my family’s barbecue. Something can always go sideways, Y/N laughed.

Well, I guess that’s always a possibility. By the way, your book is in good hands!

I trust you, last night before Y/N leave he lent her one of his books. He had no idea why he did it, all he knew is that he wanted her to get to know him a little more. Piece by piece.

Always a honor, Ivar Lothbrok. xx

Ivar smiled at the double x. He felt pretty much like an idiot in love.

[How Margrethe got back with Ubbe - an Amy special]

“You’re… you’re Ubbe’s ex…” Amy realizes.

Amy was visiting Y/N, as always - and, as always, they would drop a barbecue. Nothing was out of place, except for the blonde girl that Amy had never seen before. She came with Hvitserk and she saw the way the blondie was looking at Ubbe.

“Yeah,” Margrethe confirms, completely embarrassed and uncomfortable. She had no idea of what to expect, but definitely not that. She didn’t know where to look, and that’s why she kept staring at the floor and her own feet.

“Name’s Amy,” Amy gave Margrethe her hand to shake, showing excitement, because, well, that’s Amy.

“I know,” Margrethe let out in a whisper while shaking Amy’s hand. “Hvitserk told me.”

“Hvitserk, huh?” Amy said with a malicious smile. “So you two…?” She let the rest of the sentence in the air.

“Oh, no,” Margrethe looked around and started to walk. Amy got the hint and followed her. “Me and Hvitserk were a… just an one time thing, not so long after my breakup with Ubbe, but Hvitserk isn’t the one.”

“Ubbe is,” Amy finished for Margrethe, who nodded. She was finally realizing the whole situation.

“But now me and Hvitserk became good friends, he understands me.”

“Margrethe, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know. I met Ubbe because of Ivar, and no one told me a thing at the time…”

“It’s okay, really. This will pass. Life goes on,” Margrethe smiled without happiness. She wasn’t blaming Amy for anything, she was blaming herself for letting Ubbe go. Her heart was shattered.

“But you care about him, I can see that,” Amy said. “I happen to have great eyes to see,” she said silly, getting a smile from Margrethe. “I want you to know,” Amy started, and Margrethe looked at her eyes, hopefully. She couldn’t help herself. “That I have no intentions with Ubbe,” Margrethe blinked blankly at Amy.

“What do you mean?”

“Ubbe is just this fun thing, you know? I see him only when I come here and he doesn’t even have my number - I like to play it like that,” Amy could see the hope in Margrethe’s eyes. “You shouldn’t let that man go.”

“Already did.”

“It’s not too late, and I will not be in the middle of a potential relationship,” Amy said determined.

“Don’t talk with Ubbe, please! It will make him mad!” Margrethe begged.

“But honey, I’m a cupid. I was born to bring couples together,” Amy said in her Amy-way.

“You don’t know how it ended…” Margrethe said sitting on a chair and Amy did the same. “I started being jealous of Ubbe, of the girls who talked with him, I thought that maybe he could leave me for them, because I wasn’t good enough.”

“And why on the Earth would you think that?”

“Because…” Margrethe gestured vaguely to the yard. “Do you see all of this? They have money, a lot of money. They were born in a wealthy family, nothing ever lacking. But me,” she pointed at herself and got closer to Amy. “I’m not wealthy. I’m not poor either, but compared to them? Sometimes I feel ashamed…” Amy understood her. When Amy got kicked out of her house to take care of her own, she felt ashamed about telling that to her best friend. Because Y/N would never be kicked out of her house, because her parents loved her, different than Amy’s folks.

“But you shouldn’t feel like that,” Amy said to Margrethe, thinking about the time when she told Y/N what happened and how she freaked out because she didn’t know anything. “That’s who you are, and the amount or lack of money doesn’t mean anything. It doesn’t. What means is what you do with it. It’s what you do with your money that matters. That will tell what kind of person you are. I don’t know your position in this, but I know one thing: you should never let a man be above you because of money,” Margrethe was staring Amy in the eyes, taking in everything.

“I… yeah, you’re right, but I couldn’t help…”

“Of course, I understand.”

“And all those girls were from college, they have money as well. Sometimes when he hanged out with his friends I wanted to go together, I wanted to be seen with him, as a couple, but sometimes he would say ‘it’s a men night-out’ and I would argue, gosh…” Margrethe covered her face. “I was such a jerk. I didn’t understand anything. He never complained when I had a women night-out and he never complained when I talked to other men, but I… I’m ridiculous.”

“Margrethe, you’re not ridiculous. You just didn’t know how to control yourself.”

“I see all of my mistakes and I live with them, knowing that I won’t have another chance.”

“Hey, who said that?” Margrethe looked at Amy. “No one, right? But I’m telling you this: Ubbe’s fond of you, I can see it. I can see it and it has never bothered me. Ubbe may think that he likes me but, in the end, the one who he really wants is you, Margrethe.”

Margrethe smiled and sniffed.

“Well, Hvitserk’s fond of you too, actually,” Amy laughed.

“I know.”

“No, I mean it. When he first saw you, the first thing he did was call me to talk about you. He took some time to tell me that you’re hitting Ubbe, but I kinda figured that out earlier. And I know Hvitserk, he might have a wandering dick, but he’s so down for you,” Amy laughed out loud, catching some attention at the two of them.

“Well, my pussy is kinda of a wanderer too,” Margrethe laughed. Amy took a deep breath. “Can I talk with Ubbe?” Margrethe bit her lips and looked at the grass. She nodded once. “‘Kay! Sweet!”

Amy got up in a little jump and started looking for Ubbe. He was sitting at the back of the backyard, drinking and laughing with some friends of his. Amy got closer and the guys realized her, as well as Ubbe.

“My woman!” he greeted her with open arms. “C’mere, let’s sit and drink!”

“Actually,” she held his hand. “I need to talk with you, privately,” she looked at the other men, asking gently, and all of them left. Amy sat.

“What is it?” Ubbe asked, quite curious and worried.

“I don’t know how to tell you this all of a sudden,” she sighed. “But… we can’t see each other anymore, Ubbe,” Ubbe froze. “It’s not you, but it’s not me neither. It’s just… a situation that I got tangled in the middle.”

“I’m not following.”

“I want you to reopen your eyes and see someone in this place,” Amy said while holding Ubbe’s hand. He liked Amy - a lot. But he never felt consistency coming from her.

He starts looking around and sees Margrethe.

“She asked you this, right?” Ubbe said angrily.

“No, she didn’t; I wanted to.”

“Why?”

“Why?” she repeated. “We’re in this game for so long and you ask me ‘why’? It even looks like you don’t know me at all,” Amy starts to think. In that “so long”, she and Ubbe had met what, seven times? With more sex than talk? “You really don’t know me,” she whispers more to herself than to Ubbe. He was staring Amy, not following her logic, completely lost. “I’m a fucking cupid, Ubbe, and that woman over there,” she discreetly pointed her head at Margrethe. “Committed mistakes, but she loves you and is willing to change and give it one more shot.”

“I don’t buy it.”

“Goddamnit, man!” Amy snapped at him. “She sees her mistakes, she blames herself, she misses you and she loves you. She wants you. Isn’t it enough?”

Ubbe looks at Margrethe, than at Amy. She’s right. He and Margrethe were much younger, and now they were adults. Something had to change after all this time, but not his love for her, and apparently not her love for him.

Amy watched Ubbe as he took Margrethe in, how his expression was changing, how his eyes were changing. He was realizing Margrethe, all over again. He was remembering the good times - and the bad ones too, but the good overcame the bad.

He sighed and took a mental reminder: he wasn’t feeling any consistency coming from Amy; it was just sex. Why would he try to keep her for a future if it was only sex for her? Plus, he knew how Hvit was flirting with her and how she looked at him, he wasn’t blind. He knew there were something in there, and as Amy was in the middle of him and Margrethe, so was him in the middle of Amy and Hvitserk.

A second chance for his first love? Yeah, that didn’t sound so bad. A second chance to a future where it held a family? That didn’t sound so bad either.

Ubbe nodded only once.

Amy smiled, made a little party, kissed him on the cheek and went for Margrethe, giving her encouragement eyes.

She watched from the distance as Margrethe and Ubbe talked. Hvitserk came to her side.

“So,” he started, way too close to her. “I heard you’re a cupid and brought the old couple back together.”

“Yeah,” she said smiling.

“Margrethe couldn’t stop talking about Ubbe, it was getting exhausting.”

“Exhausting?” She asked looking at Hvitserk with hungry eyes. “I know what I’m exhausted of,” she looked back at the couple. Ubbe went forward to hug Margrethe.

“And what would that be?” Hvitserk asked, already seeing the upcoming happening.

“Not getting laid at this party,” she looked at him.

He smiled lustfully and grabbed her hand, guiding her upstairs while he took the last sip of his vodka.

Taglist: @mblaqgi @akamaiden @dangerousvikings @oddsnendsfanfics @deepdarkred @irishhiggins @tinypuppysoul @kingbouji3 @i-war-s-boner @capitanostella @loothbrok @noaor @thehuntress26 @sassymcgonagal1651 @hoodirwin5 @attorneyl @collecting-stories @certainobservationwasteland @dreams-in-different-colours @3x5gurl @readsalot73 @action-adventure-and-cheesecake @titty-teetee @cutiedaij @austenkingmylady @ivarthesweetheart @golden-pickaxe @lokis-sunflower-anna @bill-istvan @cynthianokamaria @slut4hazeleyes @chinduda @hallowed-heathen @cherryblossombaby69 @paintballkid711 @bisexual-dane @youbloodymadgenius @fuckthatfeeling @crackhead1-800 @alexhandersenx @cassiansbaby

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miss-choco-chips · 4 years

Text

Soul Shards part 4

I have nothing to say for myself. Don’t kill me? I tried to edit this, but it’s longer than what I’m used to, so I probably fucked up somewhere along the way.

This... will probably need another part. Or should I leave it like this? I dunno.

Enjoy!

~~~.~~~.~~~

Timothy’s eyes shone hatefully. It was the most beautiful shade of icy blue he had ever seen. Even if the emotion was such a dark one, they weren’t empty anymore.

-It’ll be over soon -he shushed, slowly sinking to his knees and bringing the man into his lap, almost engulfing him between arms and firm chest, as if to protect him from the pain that was coming from deep inside; distantly, he heard Kon and Jon’s voices as they approached, their concern obvious but unimportant at the moment-, you just have… a lot of emotional catching up to do.

~~~.~~~.~~~

16 - 21

The young man raised his eyes from the documents he was revising, merely glancing over Damian’s case files.

-Zsasz -was all he said, before going back to his own thing.

Damian a year ago might have gotten mad, thinking Timothy was sprouting spur of the moment lies to get him to stop nagging him. He knew better now, that the man didn’t need more than a second of looking at his carefully collected evidence to make a verdict.

It didn’t mean he wasn’t curious, though.

-How? -was all he asked, giving the file a closer look, trying and failing to see what the other could- He was at Arkham at the time of the crimes, there’s witnesses and video evidence.

Timothy didn’t seem to be paying attention to him any longer, answering by rote but not taking his empty eyes from his own work.

-Not Zsasz himself, but not a copycat either. This is the work of a lover, or someone romantically interested in the bastard. Could be a courting gift, a mean to attract his attention, or both. Look deeply into any woman…

-Or man, or both, or neither -he felt compelled to add. Timothy shrugged, but his soul gave an approving humm.

-... or man, or both, or neither -the detective conceded, dropping his papers in favor of his coffee cup and tablet-, visiting him this last few months, or that could have benefited from any of Zsasz murders; maybe he unknowingly saved someone by killing their abuser or something like that, and they fell for him. Think Misa Amane from Death Note.

As he did any time Drake dropped a reference, Damian made a mental note to check this out. At least, “Death note” sounded more his style than the time he had to watch both Mean Girls movies.

-How do you know it’s a love interest and not, say, an apprentice?

Without dropping his cup, and balancing the tablet against his legs where he was sitting on the couch, Timothy raised his other hand and pushed one of Damian’s papers across the coffee table towards him. One of the autopsy’s photos.

-The cuts. Zsasz usually makes them all across the body, picking certain places that would make his victims bleed to death as slowly and painfully as he feels like. These, instead, are focused on the chest area, almost circling the person’s heart. In this one, a victim that was murdered specifically on Valentine's day, the cuts are even closer to it, almost framing the heart.

-...I can see it -he muttered, eyes widening. After two weeks of useless tumbling around this case, it was only when he caved and went to Timothy for help that he finally had some possible lead on it. And, as every time he did this before, a few minutes was all he needed to figure it out and to point him in the right direction.

-I’d hurry, if I were you. The least thing Gotham needs is a new villian power couple, a “Harley and Joker” take two. It was just too good when she left him for Ivy, so don’t allow anyone else to take their places as the criminal lovers of the city.

Damian nodded and went back to his files on Zsasz, energies and will renewed. Timothy ignored him once again in favor of his own things, and silence enveloped them. He didn’t mind; the icy blue soul’s warm encouragement was all he needed.

----.----

-It has grown -commented the older of the two, watching from the corner of his eye the souls on Damian’s lap. They had to fight some sea monsters at the beach, and sand had gotten into his pouch, so he stopped at the earliest chance to clean it up.

It was the first time Timothy saw his soul in years. Damian had being careful to not take it out around him, scared it might spook the man into leaving.

If anything, he seemed curious.

-It has? -he asked, dropping his own back on its hiding place and rising the other to eye level- It still fits in my palm the same way it always did.

Timothy rolled his eyes.

-Yeah, and your hand is the exact size it was when you were twelve? Brat, you are already taller than me -wipe that smile off your face, we both knew this day would come. You grew, and if it still fits the same, it’s only logical that it did as well. You probably didn’t notice because you see it all the time, and since your soul has also grown, there’s no sure way for you to compare them and realize it.

Amazed, and more than a little happy, Damian examined it closer. He was right, of course; now that it was brought to his attention, he couldn’t unsee it.

-A soul grows and thrives on multiple things -kept going the other, shaking his head to get as much sand as possible off his hair-, both positive or negative.

Damian knew this, has seen the sheer size of the Joker’s rotten soul, doubled after his latest killing spree: it fed on the pain of his victims. It was a disgusting sight, but one that proved just how different the psychopaths they fought saw life, and how unlikely it was they’d ever stop.

-And in this case? -he asked, refraining himself from saying ‘your’ instead of ‘this’.

A shrug- If I had to guess, love, like most people’s. It was what always healed me, time and time again, growing up; love for my friends, parents, family, people I liked… It started to shrunk when half the people I cared for died, and the other half didn’t seem to want my feelings nor return them. Poor, past-me’s soul was starved to death. You seem to have it well fed, tough.

It was said tonelessly, but Damian felt two sizes taller all the same. The soul at hand seemed to shine in front of his eyes (although it was probably just the sun’s reflection), and a quick succession of images flashed across his eyes.

Kon El, Bart Allen, Cassie Sandsmark and a few other heroes he recognized from Drake’s old Young Justice photos, going out of their way to seek him out and keep him company in his self imposed soulless exile.

Grayson, Father and Todd sitting quietly at the Cave’s Red Robin memorial (with cracked glass; The Red Hood hadn’t reacted well the first time he saw it), sharing stories of the man as they knew him: brother, son, childhood friend.

Cain and Brown, sitting back to back, holding the other’s soul shard; Brown delightedly absorbing the love Timothy had put in Cain’s icy blue compass, and the other carefully caressing the almost black locket, cocooning it in her hands, as if trying to breath emotions back into the almost empty thing.

Himself, tirelessly looking for information on the man years ago, following him around more recently. Taking hits for him during the times they worked together, doing his best to keep Grandfather away, sneakily replacing his coffee for decaf.

(taking care of his body)

Holding the precious icy blue orb in his palms, cradling it against his chest when sleeping or fondling with it between his fingers when troubled or distracted. Constant, tender touch. Never damaging it. Never leaving it alone. Never ignoring the feelings it sent his way.

(taking care of his soul)

Timothy looks indifferent, typing away at his new phone (he changed them almost every day, no doubt to keep Oracle or Father from finding him), but his soul reacts beautifully to Damian’s thoughts.

Fed by love, indeed.

-----.----

17 - 22

After he saved some children and comforted them during patrol, when he had (briefly) the upper hand against Cain in a spar, when he successfully talked Todd down from blowing up a building, when he stood firm against father in order to protect Jon, Colin and the rest of his friends from a scolding, when he tried (and failed) to help Alfred bake Grayson a cake for his birthday… each time, he would feel a tug from the not-so-little-anymore orb, and when he took it out of his pouch to inspect it, he’d always see a new, beautiful green and gold spot slowly dying the area surrounding the core.

Little specks of his colours, appearing here and there at times that seemed random to him, but evidently were appreciated by Drake’s soul.

It scared him so badly he could barely sleep without nightmares. Because, even if it meant tentatively good things (he was leaving a mark on Timothy where not even Todd had reached, was securing himself a way into his heart), it also meant a change.

What if, after all his efforts, this made impossible for Drake's soul to fit into his body after all?

After the soulless man had pointed it out for him, he begun to notice things. Not only the suddenly appearing, breathtaking looking spots on the icy blue sea of his soul, but how it seemed to shine more with each passing moment, how the feelings it gave off were more intense (it had come as a surprise; he would never had guessed they were muted before, until he was almost blown away by the soul’s rage after an encounter with Deathstroke left Nightwing at death’s doors), how the small little bumps and dents in it were filled out as the soul grew, healthier and prettier.

It had grown so full of feelings, so strong, he feared. What if, even if he got Timothy to take it back, his body couldn't accept it due to its changes? Or what if the accumulated feelings were too much for him to take, to process? He certainly had some emotional baggage to catch up to, and he had little to no information on soulless people accepting their core back to properly predict what outcome they might face.

He was scared by the changes. He was excited about his colours slowly taking space into Timothy’s soul. He couldn’t rest properly anymore.

The soul was a faithful companion on his long, sleepless nights. It spoke to him, in a language of feelings and abstract-like images he had come to learn with the years. It returned his love and care tenfold, in a way he knew only Drake, with his seemingly unending flow of emotions, could do.

A part of him (Wayne, hero, martyr) didn’t believe himself deserving of it. None on his family, with maybe Cain and Pennyworth as the exceptions, were worth the unconditional trust and loyalty Timothy bestowed upon them.

The part that was purely Al Ghul (proud, selfish, greedy) asked for moremoremore, and only himhimhim.

That didn’t help his insomnia.

Neither did Timothy’s warm comfort.

The feelings, on both ends, only grew.

-------.-------

When he finally gathered courage and went to the source, Timothy himself, to show him the changes on the orb, the man only hummed, undeterred in his task of cleaning the kitchennet of this small place he was using for the week. They were somewhere in Singapore, and Damian could see the sea from the living room window.

-It’s such a shame, really -he spoke, as his hands worked steadily and with the ease of familiarity on making both coffee and Damian’s favorite tea. Never let it be said he didn’t know how to host. Another muscle memory skill, no doubt.

-What is it?

-You fell victim to Robin’s Third Law. I thought you might have been excepted from it, but obviously not. So sad. If I had an Alexa, I’d have her play sad violin tunes.

Ignoring the last bit, he took his eyes from where he was comparing the blue and green souls (his and Drake’s), and glanced in his direction.

-Third Law?

He never heard of it before. He would remember if Father or Grayson told him about it.

-Hmm -he nodded, brining a tray with the beverages and cookies to the low table, taking his seat in front of Damian, back to the window (whether this was trust in him to watch out for him in case they were attacked, or he simply didn’t care, he didn’t know)-. It’s a theory I developed while Stephanie was Robin, and you only confirmed it for me. First Law: Each Robin shall have his or her Batgirl. Dick and Jason had Barbara, me and Steph (though very briefly on her case) had Cass, and you currently have Steph. Second Law: Each Robin will have either a Super, a Speedster, or both, as his or her friend and teammate. Dick had Wally, Jason Bizzarro, I had both Kon and Bart, Steph teamed up with Kara for a while there, and you have Jon.

Blinking rapidly, he nodded. It- it was too much of a coincidence. Timothy’s claims, as always, had their merit, no matter how far fetched it seemed to have three unescapable facts following the wearer of the Robin mantle.

-And the Third Law?

-Each Robin will fall in love with their predecessor, without a happy ending.

That stopped him cold, tea cup halfway to his mouth.

He knew?

It must have shown on his face, because the man rolled his eyes.

-Just because I don’t have feelings of my own any longer doesn’t mean I can’t recognize them on someone else. I told you, the soul that belonged to me -he nods in the direction of Damian’s lap, where he had placed the soul while they eat- thrived in love. It’s almost the size it was back then, when I was young, idealistic and stupid.

A sip of coffee. Timothy’s soul reached out tentatively, it’s metaphorical touch brushing Damian’s own, a wave of lamenting and corresponding. He didn’t want to focus on what it meant.

-Dick loved the boy he was, the little Robin his parents raised, that flew on the trapeze without a care on the world. That kid died the night his parents fell. Jason most likely had a crush on Dick back when he was Robin, though the way he was treated by him back then killed that tentative love. I know, because I studied him for years, until I learned everything there was to learn about my predecessor and friend.

Damian listened, but half his mind was on the unrelenting wave of feelings Timothy’s soul was sending his. There was a message there, but he was way too overwhelmed to understand it.

-Myself, well, since you have that thing -he pointed to Damian’s lap, then shrugged-, you must know about my hopeless, tortuous love for the bastard. You know, even though past me trained himself with a flight or fight response to him, it still took me some battle time to go for the fight one? My body couldn’t seem to settle into the idea of hurting him -he sighed, shaking his head- Stupid little brat.

-Th-then… What about… Brown did have you. Her... her love didn’t have a tragedy following.

TImothy merely raised an eyebrow.

-Even before she faked her death, I was kind of an asshole with her, always demanding she hang up the cape. Then, when she came back, I was so pissed and betrayed, I couldn’t even look in her direction as much as I couldn’t take my eyes away; from what I remember, it was hell. I’m pretty sure a part of her will always love past me, just like him would always love her a bit, but they’re never getting back to what they were. There’s just too much polluted water under the bridge.

-Her shard is almost completely black and empty -he muttered, eyes dragged against his will to the Icy blue (and green and gold, now) soul.

Timothy laded his head- Doesn’t surprise me. Kon, Bart and Cassie all have theirs in almost perfect shape, though some spots here and there are losing their colours. They were absolutely freaked out when it started to happen, came straight to me to yell about friendship, bonds and shit like that. I’m guessing both Cass and Alfred’s pieces are the same -at Damian’s reluctant nod, he smirked- about time, too.

Damian didn’t comment on it, because he was well aware of how much Drake wished for all his soul shards to go completely null. When that happened, his soul would have definitely died, no take backs.

There was also the matter of the soul core, in Damian’s possession, that kept on thriving and growing, but Drake didn’t seem too worried about it, which scared Damian in turn.

-And, lastly, young current Robin. In love -he smirked-, ah, no, corresponded love, judging by the green spots, with his predecessor. Tough luck. The soul might have feelings for you, but the body certainly doesn’t (muscle memory from back then is a bitch, isn’t it?), and those by themselves are not enough, are they? Such a tragedy.

He smirked while talking, empty eyes not really caring about Damian’s crushed heart.

He hated him, a little, just then. Not nearly as much as he loved him, sadly.

-------.-------

Watching him through the monitors of the cave was such a normal thing for him to do, it no longer called to the attention of his family members. They just accepted it as one more of Damian’s oddities and moved on.

Sometimes, Grayson or Todd would stop by. They would comment on some sparring mistake he made, or marvel at the mission report when Drake’s explanation on the thought process that drove him to solve it was beyond amazing, longing and pain lacing their words.

Cain and Brown rarely accompanied him, but when they did, it was their choice on what to watch, and more often than not it was some funny, endearing thing, like Drake’s comm quips, or mask recordings on the cheesy puns he threw to his enemies.

Father never stayed, once Damian took a seat by the Batcomputer. It was beyond frustrating, his decision to pretend his son was dead, from the memorial to avoiding all talk of him unless forced. Timothy was out there, and Damian held in his pouch the answer to his predicament, but no, Father would sooner think him dead than deal with the emotional rollercoaster Damian was currently riding.

Timothy defied death itself when everyone else thought Father dead. He went toe to toe with a devil like his Grandfather, and came out on top, for him. It angered him, not seeing such devotion returned. Todd’s death and later criminal career had undoubtedly messed with his emotional bonds with all his children, but this was just ridiculous. They fought over it, often. They fought a lot, these days; his older siblings said it was a rite of passage, to reach that moment when Robin was just done with Batman’s shit.

-Master Damian, you never showed up for supper. I took the liberty of bringing some leftovers for you to snack on here.

Lost as he was, both in thought and in footage of Timothy reaching a compromise with Poison Ivy, he had to repress a startled jump; it would be unbecoming of him, with all his training. Though, Pennyworth probably knew anyway. He always did.

-Thank you -he nodded, accepting the plate stacked with sandwiches. The old butler left a cool glass of water by the computer’s keyboard, and his eyes went up to the image of Timothy returning home after another successful mission. His tired eyes seemed to soften.

-How is Master Timothy fearing, young sir?

As sure as he was that everyone suspected him, only Alfred directly addressed the fact that Damian went to his old charge, time and time again. Even so, when he asked for “Master Timothy”, he always referred to the same.

Wordlessly, one hand holding a sandwich, he retrieved the soul next to his from the pouch. The spots weren’t bigger than last time, but more numerous.

One finger softly caressed the orb. He wouldn’t feel it, but Damian could, and it always warmed him the way Timothy’s soul reacted to the old butler’s touch.

-To think I let a young man under my care to go starved... -muttered the man. He hadn’t taken well when Damian confied on him the reason why the blue orb used to be so little.

-It was a shared mistake, Pennyworth. If anything -he nodded towards the man’s bowtie, where the small icy blue shard still shone- it’s evident how you -and Cain- were far from the worst perpetrators. The fault lies on the rest of us.

The man sighed- It’s such a shame, truly. Master Timothy was such a bright, full of life young man… his heart might have been naive, but it rarely steered him wrong.

While he spoke, the man went around Damian, reaching for the keyboard. A few clicks later, and a video file he never saw before was brought forth. Timothy’s young face appeared on the screen, and Damian paused, softly putting his glass back down.

On screen, his predecessor, down to his old Robin pants and no shirt, was finishing a training routine on the mats.This one, he didn’t recognize.

-I searched every bit of information on Drake, how…?

As he asked, another figure appeared on screen, this time… an odd version of Nightwing. He started needling Timothy (the file lacked audio), seemingly asking for something the other kid wasn’t willing to provide. He kept shaking his head.

-I have every bit of photographic evidence of Master Richard’s… most questionable clothing choices password protected, least he finds a way to get rid of all of it. It’s for posterity’s sake, you understand? And to maybe help refrain him from trying his hand at “improvising a new suit” ever again.

Looking at his mentor’s mullet hair and deep v-neck, he can’t exactly bedrugde Alfred his counter measures. He’s feeling shame just by looking at a video, can’t even imagine what living through that must have been for the poor butler.

-Grayson’s fashion sense is sadly lacking, isn’t it?

-I wouldn’t call that fashion, Master Damian, nor sense. One could forgive and forget the first Robin suit, a circus child in need of colour and reminders of home. But this? -a stiff nod to the screen- This makes me worry for any children he might have.

-I’ve been keeping him away from orphanages -he assures the old man, because at this point, it was a two on two battle, him and Pennyworth against Father and Grayson and their inability to keep their greedy paternal paws off of possible new family members.

-Good lad.

In silence, they watch as Nightwing goes off screen, returning later in civies. One would think anything would have been less of an eye sore, but the bright green pants, red sneakers and yellow shirt aren’t so much better than glitter and feathers in a skintight suit.

Shockingly, though, Timothy-on-screen seems to disagree. Graysons’ renewed efforts at convincing him of whatever he wanted bore fruits, and soon enough, both vigilantes left the scene. Automatically, the video started to reproduce again, on a loop.

Alfred hummed, taking back the empty tray- I would highly recommend you went upstairs to try and sleep, young Master. Your eyebags are two thirds the size Master Tim’s used to be, and that’s worrying on its own.

He wanted to protest, but the look on the old man’s face made him reconsider. There was very little any of them could do to repay Alfred for everything he did for the family. Easing his concern was just a start.

Silently, he closed the files he was revising and walked side by side with the butler.

-I wonder what was what Grayson said, to make Timothy concede -he commented, while they slowly hailed back to the Manor.

-Nothing of great importance -was his answer-. Master Timothy’s will is a force to reckon, but he always found Robin to be his Achilles’ heel. The moment Master Dick changed into civies the colour of his first suit, poor lad had lost the battle.

The words kept spinning in his head, even after he went to bed.

It wasn’t a plan, not even the beginnings of one, and it lacked all the finesse and detail attention one of Timothy’s would have, but it was more than he had yesterday.

A start.

------.------

He went to Kent with his idea. Conner. Kon El.

(Not Superboy. Not his Superboy, at least; just like he wasn’t his Robin)

He choose him, because he could fly them somewhere away from his Grandfather's ears. Because he was better at lying than the Impulse, and less noble and forthcoming than Wonder Girl. He trusted him more than he did Timothy’s other Young Justice old teammates.

But, more importantly, he knew Kent would be ready and willing to do whatever it took to get Drake back.

-You know it’s gonna hurt him -the clone pointed out, face serious and stony. He was already preparing himself mentally for the backslash of what they were going to do. His hand had raised up to the Icy blue earring. Out of everyone else, Cain and Pennyworth included, his soul shard was the brightest; his love and loyalty to Timothy never once wavered.

The soul in his pouch gave a warm wave of fondness. He suspects that, during Drake’s darkest hours, his best friend’s love was what kept the little orb fed. Even now, he felt it strengthen under Kent’s undying devotion.

-I know.

There was no question it would. If they succeeded, the onslaught of feelings would be far too much for anyone to handle. Timothy, awesome as he was in every other field, would not be the exception.

-He’s probably gonna hate me.

-No -he shakes his head, echoing on Timothy’s soul sentiments- He never could. You and the others… he’s weak to you. That’s why I’m asking for your help. I need you there first, to soften him up to the idea. Make him more… receptive.

A pause. Then:

-It’s me he’s going to hate.

-At first, for sure- the easy admission, from the mouth of someone as well (or better) versed in the mysteries and wonders of one Timothy Drake, hurt; then, the man continued- but I can promise you, it won’t stay in the way of your little love story for long. He will cave soon enough.

Startled, he looked into the meta’s eyes; mischief, but a shade of seriousness. He wasn’t lying.

-There is no love story. Only redemption for me, and a chance at happiness for him.

-Yeah, yeah, I know, you bats are all for ‘what’s right’ and ‘emotions and personal life are for the weak’. I’m just calling it like I see it, dude, and anyone can see how you look when you talk about him. And, honestly? It’s a little creepy, Edward Cullen style, the way you spent your entire teenagedhood pining after someone without actually interacting with him for almost half of it.

Multiple reactions raced through his mind. Embarrassment, denial, rage…

...resignation.

-I’m not worthy of his affections, not after everything. And even if I was, who’s to say the feelings his soul has now will be the same once it’s back with its rightful owner?

Kon El just sighed, something that sounded like ‘emotionally stunted bats’, and carefully placed a hand on Damian’s shoulder. It was striking, realizing they were not so far in height now. He would never bulk up the way Superman’s clone had, but his body was closer to it than Timothy’s, or Grayson’s.

-I’ll let you in a secret. There’s one easy shortcut, straight to Tim’s heart. Though, maybe ‘straight’ isn’t the right word in this case.

-Shut up.

A smile- Trust me on this one. You’re already using that way, even if you don’t realize it -he clasped his hand tighter, and then released him- Well, gotta go. Showtime is in two days, right? Have to be ready.

He was already taking off, when Damian’s brain to mouth filter seemed to break and he blurted out.

-What is this shortcut?

Still flying, the meta spin in place to face him, moving backwards. His smile was one part wistful, two parts sad.

-The fastest way for Tim to love you? Love him back. He’s a sucker for people giving him the barest scraps of affection, it would be impossible for him to resist someone wholeheartedly loving him.

-----.-----

18 - 23

All fell into place on Damian’s birthday.

The morning, he couldn’t escape his family. Grayson cried, of course, and Father had his constipated-emotionally confused face on. Todd and Brown promised to take him to a bar, careful to make that claim where Pennyworth couldn’t hear them. Him and Cain were in charge of the cake (Cassandra’s latest focus of attention had been bakery, and she wanted to participate), and Damian spent half the day surrounded by their love and support.

As promised, Jon came by mid afternoon to take him to ‘celebrate together’. He asked his family to wait for him awake, even if he came past the time patrol usually started. An odd request, but since he had asked for so little for his birthday, they couldn’t help but agree, Barbara going so far as to have The Birds of Prey ready to cover for them.

It was a long flight to Uruguay, but it was needed. He had taken note on how Drake was, more often than not, found on some seaside location. According to Grayson (and the multiple mission reports he had read on the subject), the tiniest Robin always seemed to like and take comfort on the beach. It had become a small compulsion, probably one he wasn’t even aware of, to stray to places surrounded by water.

The only stop they made, was for Damian to change civies for his suit. The Robin suit.

They found him sitting on the sand overlooking the calm afternoon waters, at La Pedrera Beach. Just where Damian asked him to met, where Kon had undoubtedly brought him a few minutes before.

No one was around, thankfully. The less witnesses, the better.

Jon touched ground softly, smiling at Damian and taking off again, to wait with the older Superboy as planned. His friend’s eyes betrayed no nervousness, but he didn’t need to; Damian was nervous enough for both of them.

Steeling himself, he walked towards the smaller man and stood by his side. Silently, they both watched as the sun slowly sunk into the horizon. In ten more minutes, it’d be completely hidden. Damian wanted for everything to be done before then, as if the beauty of the sunset would counter the pain of what was to follow.

-Okay, Baby Bat, lay it on me. Why ask me to come here, all the way from Italy? I was having a blast, you know, catching those mafias one by one.

Even as he spoke, he didn’t look particularly bothered. Soulless as he was, he had no qualms on showing his displeasure. Right now, though, he looked as satisfied as he ever did since losing his soul. The morning catching criminals, noon with his best friend and afternoon at the beach seemed to have worked like a charm. He was at ease, no longer waiting for Damian to attack him, and when he looked up at him and saw him wearing his colors (for once his more muted pants having a green tint to it, resembling more his predecessor's old costume), surprise gave quick way to trust.

Alfred was right, as always. Robin seemed to be the key past Timothy’s defenses.

-It’s my birthday today -he informed the man, doing his best to not be so stiff- And I want my gift.

A sharp laugh, devoid of feeling but humorous all the same, and Timothy stood, face to face with him, tilting his head to look him into the eye.

-My, my, what a spoiled prince. But whatever, I’m here already, and I already indulged you these last two years, letting you stay around and helping you with cases. What’s one more? I won’t take the soul back, though.

Damian shook his head.

-I don’t intend to return something of yours. I want to give something mine, for you to carry with yourself.

The smirk on his face turned utterly devious, and Timothy’s pale hands found perch on his shoulders.

-Such a daring man you have turned into -slowly, he leaned closer, standing on his tiptoes to reach Damian’s ear- What do you want to give me, baby bat? -his warm breath caressed his face, and he had to shut his eyes tightly when he felt Timothy’s face getting even closer- Maybe a kiss? It’ll be free of charge, even, just because I’m in such a good mood. I’ll still let you have the gift you had in mind, too.

Startled, he held the other man’s hips. The want that pushed viciously against his restrain left him dizzy, but his heart twisted and the pain brought him back to his senses, just before his lips -that he hadn’t even be aware he was parting- touched the other’s.

Carefully, because he didn’t mean any harm and because of how hard it was, he pushed the man away.

-No.

-No? Despite how desperately you clearly want it?

He clenched his fists, before slowly opening his hands and dragging them away from Timothy’s body. He opened his eyes again, looking down at the beautiful face, at those empty eyes. That sealed his decision.

-Not like this. Never like this.

He both regreted and was relieved by his words the moment he had uttered them.

A huff, and slim arms crossed over his chest. It helped a little, once the temptation was over.

-Okay then, boring. What’s this gift you want? Wanna give me a necklace or something? You seem the possessive type.

Damian breathed in, deeply. This was the moment.

-Open your hand, please.

Eyes rolling over the drama, one hand on his hip, he stretched out the other one, palm up.

Bracing himself, Damian retrieved something from his pouch. Before he could second guess himself, he softly placed it on Timothy’s hand.

Deep, rich green. Shinning gold. A sea of those colors, with specks of icy blue floating around.

His own soul.

Timothy’s eyes went to the soul, the one that wasn’t his, and widened a little. Reflexively, he closed his fingers around the orb as much as he could. He was still being moved by the muscle memory, the compulsion of pleasing Robin.

A second later, tears started to endlessly flow, and he was screaming in pain.

-----.----

For months, years, Damian had looked over him and saw two separate pieces of the same puzzle. Soul and body, beautiful on their own, but absolutely breathtaking if he only could put them together.

Now, the full picture stood in front of him. Despite its beauty, there were visible cracks where Damian had forced their ragged ends together, where he had to put his own soul as a filler between them.

Effective as it was, meshing two pieces, despite they belonging to the same puzzle, wasn’t the most gentle way to mend them.

They were bound to break a little, in order to fit.

-What have you done to me?! -demanded Timothy, hand clutching desperately at his chest (the other one still holding the gifted soul core), knees failing him. He would have crashed into the ground, if not for Damian’s firm arm around his waist.

He looked completely miserable, scared and shocked, which sent waves of both guilt and elation through him, because his Beloved was hurting because of him, but he was feeling.

Timothy’s eyes shone hatefully. It was the most beautiful shade of icy blue he had ever seen. Even if the emotion was such a dark one, they weren’t empty anymore.

-What is happening to me?! How?! This isn’t my soul! I shouldn’t be feeling my own emotions! -he shrieked, his entire body shaking, and it was obvious he would have attacked Damian if not so focused on his own pain. Tears fell seemingly without his notice, and flickers of different emotions crossed his face. Guilt, anger, joy, sadness, rage, fondness, pain, guilt, anger, joy… Too quick to properly categorize, too sudden for Timothy to process them. Those were the emotions his soul had been storing this past few years, and it was all crashing down around him.

-I’m well connected to the soul you gave me. As thus, by using my own as a conduit and bonding us together, yours finally has a way to reach out to you, to do its job and make you feel. It’s muted, not as strong as it’d be if you had accepted your own soul back in the first place. I’m afraid that would have killed you.

-I feel like I’m dying now.

There was screaming. Then laughter. Panic and crying. Puking. Timothy’s hand left his chest to tug at his hair, plucking off strand, then going to his naked arms and leaving red indents with his nails. Softly, he took his fingers between his, Timothy’s back to his chest, if only to keep him from hurting himself any longer.

-I can’t breath. I can’t think. Why did you do this to me? I love you. No, I don’t. Fuck, I’m going crazy -Daman tightened his arms around the man, shushing him, rocking back and forth on the ground, wishing desperately he could sooth his pain.

-It’ll pass.

Timothy whined, and cried, and smiled, and puked on the sand.

-I hate you right now. I love you. I’m scared. I hate you again. I/

-I know, love. I know.

When he passed out, still caught between tears and smiles, Damian couldn’t help but feel relief.

#My writing #soul shards #soul shards au #Tim Drake #Damian wayne #damitim #bruce wayne #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #jason todd #Stephanie Brown #Cassandra Cain Wayne #kon el kent #Conner kent #Jon kent #ra's al ghul mentioned #young justice is mentioned

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aeondeug · 3 years

Note

for the relationships ask meme, what about good ol' Boruto's Dad?

This one is harder and will be less good as like I never did finish Boruto’s Dad and I know far less about it but let’s go. My favorite parent-child relationship - Boruto and Naruto. Controversial opinion but I like that Naruto is not a great father. He is not an actively horrible dad, but he isn’t giving the kids the kind of attention they clearly need and he’s overworked from being the ninja president. And Boruto is just...Pissed? In a way that feels very real. Without making Naruto actively horrible. Which I just kind of like.

My favorite sibling relationship - Boruto and Himawari. I just like that they’re like. Siblings. Boring siblings. Who do boring sibling things like fight over not bringing your stuffed animal everywhere like a baby. Except the little sister has her mother’s freaky murder eyes and will pressure point death her brother into oblivion for ripping her teddy. There’s just something great about that. If anything is GOOD about Boruto it is how fucking mundane the family drama with the Uzumaki family is. Like it’s not like oh nooo my brother murdered everyone in our clan but “Dad didn’t show up to my little sister’s birthday and I’m pissed about that why’s he such a deadbeat”.

My favorite family relationship (other) - Hinata and Neji. It’s...A difficult one. And I like that they like...It grows over time? I don’t think Hinata was handled the best. A lot of the girls weren’t from what I remember of Naruto, what I’ve seen of it. But like I do like that she starts out horrified of him and he starts out absolutely resentful of her because of their weird fucked up family shit and like...That gets worked on over time. And she names her son after the man who died before his time.

My favorite friendship between two people - THIS IS WHERE IT GETS HARD. So like whatever we’ll put Zabuza and Haku here. We will ignore that zabuhaku is The Ship and just focus on them as friends. Is their deal fucked up and weird? Yeah. It is. But it’s intense. It means things to them. Even if they act fucking weird about it and Zabuza’s a bitch who acts like he doesn’t give a shit till Haku is murdered. Nart relationships peaked here.

My favorite friendship between a group - I am a basic bitch who is fond of Naruto, Sakura and Sasuke as a friend group. Because they are such a contentious little group of assholes who do not get along. But who do end up respecting one another over time.

My favorite mentorship - Might Guy and Rock Lee. Everyone else can go the fuck home. The pervy sage is great. Don’t get me wrong. But Might took this kid who can’t fucking do the cool magic shit and was like “We’re gonna make you the coolest ninja there ever was, kid.” And then by gods he did it. The crazy bastard.

My favorite rivalry - Sasuke and Naruto. This is like. Beyond Rock Lee and my Hyuuga obsession this is it. This is what I remember this fucking series for. These bitches just. Going at it. They have such good ass fights together. Their last one in the movie or whatever is so sick. And I like like...I really like why Naruto loses in the fights he does lose against Sasuke. Because Naruto wins through his ability to empathize and meet people on their level. But he can’t fucking do that with Sasuke because he loves that stupid asshole and is pissed at him. So Naruto can’t win. Naruto can’t bring him back to the village because Naruto can’t do the thing that makes him Naruto for Sasuke. He loves Sasuke too much to be able to. In my perfect world he is also married to Naruto and Sakura is off having a better fucking character arc.

My favorite hatred/antipathy - Naruto and Kurama. This is probably one of the coolest relationships in Naruto? Like period? It’s also not something I expected but like thematically it’s perfect. Like Naruto is the empathy boy who can learn to understand everyone. He talks through problems. And one of the biggest he has to talk through is this seemingly completely awful doom monster that lives inside him and that is the cause of his being a miserable orphan. Good shit. The fact that he’s dead now apparently is bullshit.

My favorite potential relationship between characters who never talk in canon - i legitimately do not know who talked and who did not talk in canon. due to not having finished nart. i want haku and hinata to become bffs. my reasoning is. uh. i like them. fuck it. just. stick them in a room together. except haku is dead. except he wasn’t for a bit? or something? I HEARD THEY CAME BACK BRIEFLY.

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makeste · 4 years

Text

BnHA Chapter 249: Todoroki Taco Night

Previously on BnHA: Nothing happened at all, because the manga was on break last week! Fortunately the anime had finally resumed after a billion years (estimation; exact length of time may be slightly off), so we had that to take the edge off in the meantime. Except we didn’t, because the anime also ended up going on break due to a rugby game or some shit. So that was nice. On a related note, when I die I’d like the Basement arc to lower me into my grave, so it can let me down one last time.

Anyway, Endeavor did some mentoring and gave Shouto and Kacchan a power-up assignment and told Deku to work on Air Force to help him master the fine control he needs for the Bloop. Then Fuyu called a week later and was all “HEY DAD, DINNER, OUR PLACE, TONIGHT, BRING THE KIDS.” And then as previously mentioned, we waited two whole fucking weeks and MY GOD, my body is ready, on to the new chapter we go!

Today on BnHA: Shouto, Katsuki, and Deku are cordially invited to Todosmith Farms for an evening of food and fun! They make it approximately six minutes into dinner before Natsu loses it and exits with more theatrics than a spurned reality TV show contestant. Baku and Deku spend the next hour being all “!!!” at each other back and forth, and whispering about how fucking dramatic the Todorokis are, which fully kills me and is my favorite thing ever to happen in the world. Deku then begins to guide Shouto through his personal healing process like fucking Mufasa booming at Simba from the heavens, and meanwhile Endeavor listens in while quietly kneeling before HIS DEAD SON’S PHOTOGRAPH, IN THE SHRINE THEY BUILT FOR SAID DEAD SON IN HIS BEDROOM, and sorrowfully wishing he could do more for his family. Anyways so I’m in ruins now, but otherwise fine. How are you?

(All comments are my unspoiled reactions from my initial readthrough of the chapter. I did a quick edit for grammar and clarity afterward, and added a few ETAs in the process, but aside from that there are no changes.)

well it’s Thursday morning, and I have just seen the picture of baby white-haired Touya because no one in this fandom knows how to fucking spoiler tag (and that’s on me too for browsing the BnHA tag on a Thursday; I know better, but I was just curious how this new group chat thing was working out), so here are my immediate thoughts

we never actually confirmed that the hair color correlates to their powers, huh. we just assumed. but come to think, there’s no reason why someone couldn’t have mom’s hair but dad’s quirk. it’s all Shouto’s fault for being a perfect 50/50 split and thus making everyone assume that THAT’S JUST HOW IT WORKS. damn you Shouto and your dramatic character design

anyways I tried not to look at the pic for too long -- once I realized what I was looking at, I averted my eyes -- but he does look like Dabi, I think. oh shit guys. it’s really fucking happening

and I also didn’t get a good enough look to determine whether this was a photo of Touya (that Deku or whoever happened to spot while visiting the Todochester Mystery House for the much-hyped dinner) or a flashback image (in which he is just standing really fucking still for some reason and staring directly at the camera), so I guess we’ll see. but anyways, Deku and Kacchan didn’t come all the way down to Todoroki taco night to not have their evening peppered with intricate family drama and reopened wounds and hysterical conspiracy theories, so you had better keep them goddamn entertained! lord knows the Todorokis don’t do small talk. this is literally their only way of spicing things up so their guests don’t die of sheer awkwardness while Endeavor sits in stony silence and Shouto just stuffs his face with soba all night

also aren’t we due some popularity poll results soon? just getting in all my random thoughts now before we dive in. anyways Horikoshi, so you know what I want to see now and you better deliver

aaaand now it’s Friday! so Happy Birthday Aizawa, and LET’S GET TO THAT CHAPTER

and we’re opening with Endeavor’s Redemption Arc: The Page. omg

holy fucking shit BnHA. you sure do have a way of making me wait WITH BATED BREATH!! FOR TWO WEEKS!!! ON THE EDGE OF MY SEAT!!!! for the new fucking chapter only to have me immediately suck in a deep breath through my teeth and seriously reconsider whether I am in any way emotionally prepared to handle this. “you think you know what you want?!” Horikoshi demands. “YOU HAVE NO IDEA.” sob it’s trueeee

okay. okay. we can do this. hell, if we made it through Tomura’s flashbacks then this should be child’s play. so all right, let’s go

-- oh wait, but before I click to the next page, I just want to note that Endeavor isn’t the only one who’s nowhere to be found in this pic, though! boy you have three sons. uno dos tres

“the hellish Todoroki residence” lmao this legitimately sounds like the title of a Buzzfeed Unsolved episode

ARE YOU TELLING ME ENDEAVOR PROVIDES LUXURY APARTMENTS FOR ALL HIS FUCKING EMPLOYEES OMFG

SO MY THREE SONS HAVE ALL BEEN ROOMING TOGETHER UNDER ENDEAVOR’S ROOF!? THE FANFIC ENDEAVOR AGENCY RESIDENCES?! WHAT KIND OF OT3 SHENANIGANS HAVE BEEN ABOUNDING THIS PAST WEEK OH MY GOODNESS THIS IS LIKE A DREAM

OH MY GOD

okay I have like... ten different notes I want to make about Katsuki and I don’t know where to start SO I’LL JUST START SOMEWHERE!

I’ve legit wanted to see how he would look with his mask pushed up into his hair like a headband for the longest fucking time (I don’t know why! I just wanted to see it!) so this. is. Christmas for me omg. if only he wasn’t making one of his (◣д◢) faces and was instead making a normal face. but that’s probably too much to ask of him at THE CRACK OF DAWN, which brings me to my next point,

I thought he was a morning person?? [furiously checking headcanon notes] kid you go to bed at 8pm. you have your full eight hours by four in the fucking morning. and the full nine and a half hours that GROWING BOYS ACTUALLY NEED by 5:30am, which is when I always assumed you typically woke up in order to get in your morning workout and BEAST IT UP IN THE PIT or whatever gym people do. yet here you are, half dead, while Deku and Burnin’ are raring to go. were you just burning the midnight oil and that’s why you’re grumpy? WAS IT THE FANFIC AGENCY RESIDENCES SHENANIGANS, OH MY GOD I CAN’T

lastly, look at that unzipped collar. why is it that the more disheveled he looks the more I want to pile him up in a headlock and give him noogies. I love him so fucking much, this is ridiculous, he was only gone for two weeks but it felt like SEVENTEEN YEARS anyway

so Burnin’ is all “catch any villains faster than Endeavor yet, LOL, LIKE THAT COULD EVER HAPPEN!!” and they’ve been putting up with this trolling for a fucking week now huh. no wonder Katsuki’s ready to pack it in and sleep for the next year

motherfucker holy shit

sure thing coach. Todoroki Shouto out here ready for the morning huddle. BRING IT IN! ONE TWO THREE PLUS ULTRA

meanwhile Katsuki better keep his hair like that for the rest of the arc now. the collar too. I am living for this

what is Shouto doing with his hands

are you blowing a kiss. or beckoning toward her like Neo in the Matrix. are you channeling your inner Iida. wtf is this

this one panel perfectly encapsulates everything I love about this OT3 dynamic oh my god

Katsuki screaming at Todoroki that he’s better than him (based on impeccable, flawless logic). Shouto completely disregarding this and calmly continuing to have a normal conversation at a normal person volume. and Deku ignoring them both while sending the chipperest, most positive energy in the world out toward this other person because he loves everyone!!

and now there’s three closeups of the boys showing how worn out they are

they’ve been working so hard I’m so proud of them and also they totally deserve a night off to go gorge themselves on soba at Toderly Manor

and then there’s a whole nother page continuing to establish that it has been a week! and they’re working hard! and YES, WE KNOW, though

yep yep yep we get it now WHAT ABOUT THAT DINNER oh my god. it’s been four pages! and if we’re only getting thirteen again then this is precious real estate we’re just wasting here, come onnnnn

so Endeavor is continuing to show off how great he is while the kids look on in frustration

heh but I like this panel because LOOK AT THEM

ALL THREE OF THEM CAN FLY (basically). I love it. yes. just let them be airborne for the rest of the series

meanwhile Endeavor’s thinking agitated thoughts about how Fuyu wants him to try and CONNECT TO THE CHILDREN ON AN ACTUAL EMOTIONAL LEVEL, like what do you think he is?? a human being??!

lol he’s got that look like “WHY DON’T YOU JUST KILL ME NOW AND BE DONE WITH IT.” things he would rather do than have a family dinner with his kids and his two new apprentices: literally. anything. else. ah, but Endeavor. no one said the path of Not Being A Bastard would be easy

he’s thinking about how happy Fuyu sounded on the phone, though. “the thought of us finally becoming a real family...” c’mon Enji you can’t just let your only daughter down like that

and also me. you better not fucking let me down. I was promised dinner at Todoton Abbey and DAMN IT THIS IS HAPPENING

lol he’s getting all fired up and the kids are just mindlessly yelling back like “FUCK YEAH”

even the guy in the background’s like “YEAHHHHHHH LET’S DO ITTT.” the best part is how not a single one of them has any clue what they are loudly agreeing to

OH MY GOD

TODOLAND RANCH, AT LONG LAST. YESSSSS

lmao Kacchan

“it’s not too late!” he is so desperate, bless him. all he wanted was to curl up in his room with a bowl of spicy ramen after a long day and watch old All Might clips on Youtube while blissfully not interacting with a single other soul. and now instead they’ve dragged him to fucking Todo-a-Lago for dinner with his boss, his two best friends who he hates, and SOMEONE’S SISTER. what a nightmare

FUYUMIIIIII

worst part is, I don’t think Kacchan will be able to resist Fuyu’s Kind Elementary School Teacher Energy at all. he’s totally screwed. -- OH MY GOD, IS HE HIDING

like, I know this is the Todoroki drama chapter and that’s where my focus should be, and I’M SORRY, but you guys all know what you signed up for by this point, right? you can read a million other Todo hot takes on tumblr today, but this will forever be the blog that spends paragraphs and paragraphs obsessing over Kacchan hiding behind the door frame and sulking and asking “why though?” in increasingly petulant tones like a four-year-old because SOMEONE DRAGGED HIM TO A SOCIAL EVENT and this is his personal hell! Fuyu’s gonna end up having to manually feed him chicken like Satou did at the party

meanwhile now that I’m actually READING THE REST OF THE PANEL LIKE A NORMAL PERSON, I have to pause for a moment to let my heart break over Deku saying that he hardly ever gets invited over by friends. hey Deku come here for a moment, I just have to give you a dozen hugs real quick and then you can continue as you were

anyway so guys I literally owe Todoroki Fuyumi my life and I want to send her flowers with a “THANKS FOR SAVING THE MANGA” card but it’ll have to wait until the chapter is done. let’s continue

NATSU’S HERE TOO, SHOUTO SAW HIS SHOES, OH M Y GO D

AHHHHHHHHHHHHH

(ETA: shout out to Natsu for wearing the greatest shirt of all time and taking Deku’s rookie-tier gags to THE NEXT LEVEL!)

I LOVE EVERYTHING. I’M SOBBING. BLESS YOU HORIKOSHI. LET THE GAMES BEGIN!!

holy shit Deku

Alton fucking Brown over here. chill my dude

NATSU BRINGING THAT DRAMA YESSSS

and look how oblivious Deku is to the general vibe settling in here

what the fuck do you see. you just literally had no idea how else to respond to that, huh

oh my god oh my fucking god

(ETA: I’m laughing so hard and I’ll explain in the tags. sob.)

guys let me just break down these two panels for you

1. Fuyu is all “NATSU YOU COOKED TOO”

2. Shouto is all “WTF, I ATE NATSU FOOD AND NO ONE FUCKING TOLD ME”

3. Natsu is all “YOU PROBABLY DIDN’T BECAUSE... THAT MAN PROBABLY WOULDN’T ALLOW IT”

how the fuck is there drama brewing over the fucking cooking. this fucking family. and Shouto’s face is two seconds away from being my new icon omg

LMAO

SO YOU TWO FINALLY FUCKING CONNED ON TO THE DANGEROUS SITUATION YOU’VE FOUND YOURSELVES IN, HUH. that’s right bitches. welcome to Todo’s Landing

and now Fuyu has finally made a FATAL ERROR IN JUDGEMENT oh no. that error being trying to fall back on Shouto of all people to ease the awkward tension. that boy literally is made up of awkward tension. right down to his atoms. Fuyu what were you thinking??

FUYUMI: [SLAMS HANDS ON TABLE] “SHOUTO WHAT KIND OF FOOD DO YOU EAT AT SCHOOL!!!!”

SHOUTO: [LEAPING TO HIS FEET] “AT THE CAFETERIA!!!!”

someone help me I’m fucking dying. actually, you know what, help them

“yo Deku, do you wanna get the fuck out of here right now.” “yes, yes I do.” turns out, they didn’t really need that internship anyway. maybe they can still convince the centipede man to take them instead

holy shit

like, I feel so bad for him, but also Fuyu looks so fucking sad and I can’t?? this is too much, and things haven’t even gotten spicy yet. this arc is going to leave me a wreck

DSFKSLDFJLK

“it’s okay,” Horikoshi says comfortingly, “here’s a panel of your two good boys helping clean up.” WELL THANK YOU, EXCUSE ME FOR A MOMENT, I’M GOING TO GO SIT. and think about Katsuki being a fucking gentleman whose momma raised him right and who helps clean up the dishes after being invited over for dinner. never mind that he didn’t even help clean up the Christmas party. but he saw Fuyu being sad and immediately went MY GOD, I’VE GOT TO DO SOMETHING TO HELP THIS STUPIDLY NICE LADY

anyway so are you two going to ask Endeavor why his kids hate him so fucking much. or just ignore it because you pretty much know the gist already because Shouto can’t keep a lid closed on anything

OH MY GOD THEY’RE HAVING A SECRET CONVERSATION ABOUT IT

FFFFFFFdfsLK -- “YOU GUYS WERE TALKING ABOUT IT RIGHT NEXT TO ME, ON ACCOUNT OF I WAS STANDING RIGHT THERE, IN THE SHADOWS, BECAUSE I WAS EAVESDROPPING, SHUT UP”

anyways so did you guys know that Deku and Kacchan having whispered conversations about how dramatic the fucking Todorokis are is my all-time aesthetic. I didn’t know either actually. but it is

Fuyu why are you apologizing to Shouto for making him help clean up

AND WHY ARE YOU PERSISTING IN MAKING THAT FACE. SON OF A BITCH. GIRL I’M BRINGING YOU SOME ICE CREAM AND SOME DVDS. WE’RE GONNA HAVE A SLEEPOVER AND FORGET ALL ABOUT THIS SHIT. PLEASE FEEL BETTER. I’M SORRY YOUR TWIN BROTHER IS DEAD AND YOUR WISH TO HAVE A NORMAL FAMILY IS NEVER GOING TO FUCKING COME TRUE BECAUSE WE CAN’T HAVE NICE THINGS OMG

oh my god she’s having a heart to heart with Shouto about how he feels about Endeavor. oh my god I see Horikoshi aiming a bow right at my fucking heart. he’s notching the fucking arrow, this is it, it’s been real you guys

that look in his one visible eye. god. there it is. oh god. hurts

(ETA: do you suppose all of the Todorokis have secretly had that exact same dream. we know Fuyu has, and Rei as well based on her letter. I’m starting to think that Shouto has too. it only makes sense that a boy who was denied a real childhood for the first fifteen years of his life is going to have some part of him that secretly longs to just have a normal family. in related news, Shouto had better get some fucking hugs in this arc!)

-- ARE YOU SERIOUS

WHAT IS IT WITH HORIKOSHI LATELY AND BEING DONE WITH JUST IMPLYING THINGS AND NOW VERY INTO SHOWING THEM IN EXPLICIT HORRIFYING DETAIL. HERE’S A DEAD DOG! HERE’S A DYING CHILD! HERE’S A SIX-YEAR-OLD WHOSE MOM JUST POURED SCALDING WATER ON HIS FUCKING FACE AND SHE DIDN’T MEAN TO BUT IT’S TOO LATE AND NOW THEY’RE BOTH TRAUMATIZED. AND SHE’S USING HER QUIRK TO HEAL HIM AND HELLO, THIS ONE PANEL IS ABOUT TO MAKE ME START CRYING. KATSUKI YOU WERE RIGHT. WHY, THOUGH

(ETA: yeah this does not bode well for an upcoming flashback in which a child was presumably burned the fuck alive. feels like Horikoshi was testing the waters to see how much he could get away with. we may be in for some brutal shit pretty shortly.)

OH MY GOD A LETTER

they’re going to discharge her soon!?? IMMINENT FEELINGS INBOUND. I HAVE NO MORE SPACE TO PUT THEM!! MY HOUSE IS PACKED WITH FUCKING FEELINGS ALREADY, PLEASE

ahhhh he says he doesn’t know

this is the most realistic fucking thing I’ve read in this manga to this date. not knowing how you feel about the abusive parent who did so much harm but is now trying to change. boyyyyy howdy I feel that in my fucking bones. Horikoshi is out there delivering the real shit. goddamn

KATSUKI MY HERO

it’s as though Horikoshi placed his hands on his shoulders and said “listen up sonny boy, I’ve got an important job that only you can do. defuse this tension. in any way you can.” and Katsuki looked him dead in the eye and said “I got this”

meanwhile Deku’s hoping he can spontaneously develop another new quirk which will open up a hole in the ground to swallow him up

DEKU: “I HAD PERMISSION!!!” KACCHAN: “I DIDN’T HAVE SHIT!!”

HE IS BITCHING LIKE A DISGRUNTLED HOUSEWIFE HOLY SHIT I’M LOSING MY MIND

“A NORMAL, PLEASANT EVENING!!” yes of course, that’s why you spent the entire ride over here clinging to Todoroki’s shirt and repeating “WHY” ad infinitum. anyways as usual this child is a nightmare whose fickle tirades absolutely no one deserves to be subjected to, god bless him and I adore him so

and Deku is again apologizing for him like they’re fucking married. this chapter is filled with so many highs and lows for me, it’s wild

this, to be clear, is one of the highs. god I love it

oh shit it looks like Deku’s getting ready to say something! SOMETHING WISE, I BET

YESSSSSSS

IS HE?? sometimes this kid can just peer into other people’s souls with perfect clarity, it’s uncanny

oh my god Shouto’s face

genuine shock. he doesn’t even know how he feels, but somehow Deku is able to cut right to the heart of it

oh my god Katsuki’s there to chime right in too and say “but if you feel like he doesn’t deserve forgiveness that’s fucking fine too”

this is actually incredibly fucking supportive? anyway so guys have I mentioned within the last five seconds how much I love Bakugou fucking Katsuki. I have? well that’s okay I’ll just say it again anyway. and also I love Deku and Shouto too oh my god. bless this chapter

oh lol nevermind that still Deku talking while Katsuki is just making faces. well he’s doing his best. anyways so like I said I love Midoriya fucking Izuku

(ETA: [chinhands] do you guys think. that perhaps. Midoriya Izuku might be harboring some unresolved feelings regarding his own absent daddo. maybe. ??? why does this chapter have so many layers??)

ah I see, Katsuki spied Natsu just STANDING THERE LISTENING IN THE DARK, as one does, and that’s why the face

and also YES, Shouto is like the kindest fucking person in the whole series possibly. thank you for acknowledging that?? I’m in the process of arranging all of these new feels into a comfy little pile now, so maybe I can curl up in them. if Horikoshi insists on delivering more and more

SLDKFJSLDKFLSHGLKJKLJSLGKJSDLFKSDLFKJLSDKJFLKSL

“THE OTHER CHILD WHO’S NO LONGER THERE” RED ALERT, RED FUCKING ALERT, IT’S REALLY HAPPENING, HOLY FUCKING SHIT. REMINDER TO SELF, NEXT THURSDAY I’M GONNA HAVE TO GO ON A SELF-IMPOSED INTERNET HIATUS FOR TWENTY-FOUR HOURS BECAUSE FANDOM’S GOING TO LOSE THEIR FUCKING SHIT WITH THE SPOILERS NEXT WEEK AND I’M NOT EVEN MAD

sdfhk. oh my god. and so it was a photograph! but one which appears to be a segue into a flashback! and the law of escalating tragic flashbacks states that Touya’s is somehow going to be even more horrific than our last flashback, in which, let me just think back for a sec, oh yes, an entire family was massacred and torn into bloody chunks including a six-year-old girl and a dog, and the surviving child was then adopted by a psychopath who adorned him with severed hands and was all “NEVER FORGET HOW FUCKED UP YOU FEEL ABOUT ALL THIS” and then the child murdered some people to feel better about himself. so this is somehow going to be worse than that. well that’s just. ...I don’t even know. I literally can’t think of a lighthearted way to end that train of thought lmao. WE ARE FUCKING SCREWED. get ready to burn, baby

but meanwhile, parting thoughts

so they really do believe he’s dead. that’s confirmed. and he died (or, well, “died”) young, too, based on this picture and on the toys on that shelf. fffff

Endeavor kneeling at a family shrine to pay respects to his dead son and miserably wishing he was still alive is just. repeated stabbings of my already mutilated heart. thanks. thanks for that

he heard EVERYTHING and he’s saying nothing, because what can he say?? I meanwhile have already said “oh my god” about 1600 times in this recap, but I’ll go ahead and say it again anyway one last time because oh my god, the fucking Todofam AND THEIR FUCKING DRAMA!!!

what can I do for my family at this stage? the last plea of a desperate man struggling to make amends and piece together something he’s already shattered into a million pieces. he keeps dreaming of them being happy together, even if he’s not in the dream. he wants to do right by them, finally. but he doesn’t know how. anyways so people have been saying and saying that this arc so far has been death flag after death flag for this old coot, and you know what, they’re fucking right. this does not have a happy ending. this is going to be fucking devastating. and here I am, fully obsessed with it. fuck me

anyways I guess that’s finally everything I can think of to say. this recap is already a million fucking words so that’s fine lol. why though

#bnha #boku no hero academia #bnha 249 #todoroki shouto #bakugou katsuki #midoriya izuku #todoroki fuyumi #todoroki touya #dabi #endeavor #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #makeste reads bnha #so guys #when I'm writing up the initial recap and making notes of what screencaps to use #I use the first few words of dialogue from each panel I want to crop #for example: [why though]#anyway so long story short that led to me having one set of brackets which contained the words #[you cooked/endeavor]#and yeah. and then I was looking at natsu's face #and like #I don't know why I can't stop laughing?#'sis. you cooked endeavor??'#he's not sure how he feels about this. but he's probably going to allow it #anyway so when I'm busy sobbing next week I need to try and remember this to cheer myself up #'you cooked endeavor.' classic natsu #what a knave

210 notes · View notes

cagestark · 5 years

Note

Hi! Im not sure if you are taking prompts, but if not pls just ignore this (I LOVE YOUR STUFF ANYWAY UR GREAT ❤️❤️❤️) What about a PrisonInmate!Tony, PrisonInmate!Steve and PrisonInmate!Bucky all trying to get their hands on freshly employed Officer!Peter who was just trying to do his job. Smut? Shenanigans? Lots of good/bad/cheesy flirting? Anything would make me so happy!!!

Hope this works for what you wanted. I had a lot of fun, feel free to hop in my inbox and let me know if you’re satisfied. I tried working Steve in but :( still not very good at writing him. Bucky is a stretch for me, too. Did what I could though! Especially considering I scrapped what I had, wrote this in 10 hours, and didn’t even glance it over skskskks sorry for errors.

Warnings: some violence, smut, drugs. 7.5k. Peter is 22!

Read here on AO3!

The first time Tony meets Officer Parker, Tony is shackled at the waist and ankles to eleven other inmates from Lincoln Correctional Facility. He reaches up with bound wrists to scrub at his facial hair hoping that he isn’t as scruffy as he feels, eyeing the bright-eyed, bushy-tailed little twink who would be driving them twenty minutes to a nearby park There they would be giving restitution to society by picking up plastic soda bottles, cigarette butts, and used condoms from under the dugout benches at the baseball diamond. Thinking of the millions of dollars he stole from his father’s company (plenty of which was still offshore and safe), Tony figures that a week of this and his debt will be repaid. He and society can call it even.

“He’s green,” Bucky mutters from beside him. He tracks the younger man’s pale eyes to Officer Twink. “No question about it.”

“Hey Fury,” Tony says when the black officer goes by, doing a head count. He motions with his bound hands to Parker. “I didn’t know it was bring-your-white-child-to-work-day. Are his legs long enough to reach the pedals in the van? Does he have his permit? Where did you leave his Hot Wheels battery-powered jeep? Will we all fit in the back, because—”

“Pushing your luck,” mutters Steve from Tony’s other side, goody-fucking-two-shoes that he is.

Fury stops walking, actually doubles back to stand in front of him. “You want me to drag you out of line, Stark? You can spend the rest of your day inside washing dishes. Or in solitary, if you feel like being an asshole like usual. Don’t fucking test me,” Fury says. He’s a real hard-ass. Tony likes him well enough.

Beyond them, Officer Parker is blushing to beat the band having heard Tony’s criticism of him. “I’m twenty-two,” he mutters, and Tony nearly groans. Beside him, Bucky does groan. This kid is so, so fucking green. What kind of dummy correctional officer just spills personal information in front of convicted felons?

The harder inmates are going to eat him alive.

If Tony doesn’t eat him first.

“Twenty-two huh? When’s your birthday, sweetheart?” Tony calls. “I’ll drop a postcard in the mail for you—"

He hears the slide of chrome on leather as Fury draws his baton. Tony has just enough time to be thankful it’s not his taser before it is jabbing him in the chest. With his feet and wrists shackled, he has no real way to keep himself upright. He ends up sprawled ass first in the dirt. Steve and Bucky have to adjust to avoid falling themselves and likely taking the whole line down with them.

“Did you just threaten Officer Parker, Stark?” Fury asks, bending over him.

Tony squints up against the sun. “If my heartfelt affection is threatening, then—”

“One more word and you’re spending the week on D Block.” D Block is solitary confinement, and if there is anything more painful to Tony, he doesn’t know what it is. Being alone with his thoughts, no one there to fill the silence, walls so thick he can’t even hear the shouts from other inmates around him—it’s enough to drive him to the edge. He folds.

“Parker,” Fury barks. “Give me your keys. Stark isn’t coming on the field trip.”

“How else am I going to repay society?” Tony asks, holding up his wrists so Fury can unchain him out of the line. Fury doesn’t dignify him with an answer, and it’s probably for the best. Words tend to pour out of Tony’s mouth without thought even at the best of times. And he really isn’t looking for spending the first week of Officer Parker’s employment up on D Block getting his trays through the slot in the door.

While Fury undoes the locks with practiced ease, Parker stands back practically wringing his hands. He looks distraught, downright upset to be honest. When he catches Tony looking, the kid turns red and looks away. God. Fucking adorable.

Tony glances up at Bucky who is looking straight ahead with the smuggest fucking smirk. He winks at Parker and the kid literally has to turn away, probably before he has a stroke, because Bucky is a good-looking guy. And he’s going to spend the entire week, eight hours a day picking up trash while being supervised by Officer Twink.

“You lucky bastard,” Tony says to him.

“Bucky’s probably got him bent on all fours in one of the dugout’s right now,” Tony mutters unhappily around an unlit cigarette. They aren’t supposed to smoke inside—it’s against the rules, actually, not just frowned upon—but in times of anxiety, he likes the familiarity of it between his lips. He picks up his dealt cards from the table and glances at them: a straight. Not bad.

“Should have kept your mouth shut,” Toomes says from across the table. His joy at Tony’s dismay is poorly disguised behind his own hand. “That’d be you, right now. Picking up trash in Manhattan. The highlight of your day getting your dick sucked in a dugout littered with caramel corn and old wads of chewing gum. God, how the mighty fall.”

“Could be you right now, too,” Tony offers genially. “But those domestic violence charges mean you don’t even get the chance to go on field trips, huh?”

“Not to mention,” Rhodes says from beside him, a dark-skinned man with a generally unhappy face, and serious disposition. He was one of the only people on the block that Tony genuinely trusted—that sort of trust was hard earned. They’d even exchanged addresses so they could communicate after one or the other gets processed out. “No guard would risk their job for a suck job with you, Toomes.”

“Brutal,” Tony says, holding out his hand to shake Rhodes’s. “True, but absolutely brutal.”

“Thanks,” Rhodey says dryly. “Is someone going to call, or what?”

Toomes ends up storming off, leaving his hand flat on the table. When Tony flips it over, he only had one pair. Unfortunate bastard.

“He’s going to give you problems, Tony,” Rhodey says. His dark eyes are still tracking Toomes who is sulking across the floor back to his cell, where he stands in the doorway, scanning the room. “He’s not showing you respect, and he’s not meshing well with the block. It’s going to come to a head soon.”

“Is this foreshadowing?” Tony asks lazily.

Rhodey just stares.

Tony is dozing in his cell when a large form takes up the doorway. He slits his eyes open to see Bucky there, fresh from a shower with his jumpsuit half-undone and tied around his waist. The white wifebeater he wears shows off his arms, including the gnarly scars on his left shoulder from his last tour overseas. It clings to skin that is still a little wet, and Tony licks his lips.

“Hey snowflake,” he says, voice raspy. “Come to rub it in?”

Bucky sits cross-legged on the floor, back against the concrete wall. “His name is Peter. He graduated from the academy last May. This is his first job—if you don’t count the food joint he worked at as a kid. And his birthday is August tenth.”

Tony scoffs. “What, you didn’t get his social security number too? I’m disappointed. And I don’t believe you.”

Bucky holds up a scarred hand, solemn. “Swear on my tags.”

“How the hell could you have found out so much about the kid in a handful of hours? With Fury marching around no less.”

The smile that slides over Bucky’s face is so fucking handsome. Downright sensual. “Fury didn’t come. He was just there for headcount. It was Coulson escorting us with the kid. He spent the whole time sitting in the van with the AC and radio on, chainsmoking. You’re going to shit yourself, Tony. This kid is so fucking sincere and sweet—” Bucky throws his voice into what must be a poor impression of Peter’s trembling voice. “—thanks Mister Barnes, you’ve been so friendly. I’m glad my first day was spent with you.”

“Aww fuck. Goddamnit. Son of a bitch.”

Bucky laughs. “Don’t worry, you’re going to get your chance. He told me today was just to break him in. Tomorrow? He’s on the block. And don’t worry, I put in a good word for you. My friend Tony, I said, he’s one of the most solid guys I know. Arrogant as fuck, but a sweetheart underneath the ten different layers of ego and narcicism.”

Tony’s eyes shut. His hands come together in a prayer position over his chest. “Oh thank you, sweet Jesus.”

“Thank me,” Bucky says, wiggling his eyebrows.

In the back of the cell is a curtain that can be drawn shut while an inmate uses the facilities. It’s where most sex happens during the daytime, when anyone is liable to walk by and glance into a cell. Tony jerks a thumb at it. “You want to see what lies behind curtain number one, Buck?”

“Sure. I’m feeling lucky.”

Showers open at dawn, and Tony is one of the first inmates there. He takes extra time soaping himself up in the lukewarm water. By the time trays are brought in, he is dressed with his hair combed. The tank top he wears is white as is required for all clothes that aren’t jumpsuits, and it looks good against his tanned skin. Tony looks fucking good for his age—which is somewhere past thirty and before fifty, thanks, don’t worry about it.

He’s halfway through a tray of biscuits and gravy with more-than-decent hash-browns when Officer Parker comes in, the door of the block screeching open. He’s escorted again by Coulson. They tend to keep senior officers with green ones, because it’s so easy for the new guys to fall prey to inmates, whether by manipulation, intimidation, or sheer manpower. Tony has seen it happen. Tony has caused it, himself. He didn’t end up as the top guy in the block by shaking hands and kissing ass.

Coulson points out things around the block: the cells (obvious), the showers, the cameras. Tony isn’t close enough to hear what’s being said, but he can imagine. Guards come in every hour during the day and every two hours at night to stroll around the block peaking into cells. Even when they aren’t a physical presence on the floor, they are always watching behind the cameras. That will be Peter’s job today: walking the floor. Every sixty minutes, he’ll walk right by Tony in his cute little dress blues. They look too clingy to be at all efficient, especially on Peter’s lithe little form, narrow hips barely able to support the holster on his waist.

Peter turns around and Tony gets a nice glimpse of his ass—God, he wants to bite it.

Bucky looks less enthusiastic today, hair pulled back into a wet bun, dark circles under his eyes. They’d slept in the same bunk last night, but when he’d awoken in the morning, Bucky had been gone. Nightmares, probably. “Now who’s the lucky bastard?” he mumbles around his fork.

Tony. Tony is the lucky bastard.

When Coulson and Peter go by, Tony calls out, face wearing a winning smile. “Good morning, officers.”

“Good morning,” Peter says sweetly. When he notices that it is Tony who spoke, his eyes double in size. Obviously, Tony has already made an impression. He plants his chin on his palm, elbow resting on the table, and lets his eyes rove over the green boy. Unashamed is his middle name.

“Inmate number one to watch out for, Parker,” Coulson says. But Tony thinks there’s a little affection underneath the vacant expression. Maybe it’s just wishful thinking.

“I’m hurt, Phil,” Tony says. “Really hurt.”

“Stark is here for fraud, and he’s a master manipulator.”

“That’s better—stroke my ego, Phil. I love it. Go on.”

Coulson looks unimpressed. “Give him a wide berth.”

Peter nods obediently. His eyes trail over to Bucky and he lights up, squinting with a smile liable to outshine the sun. “Good morning Bucky! How are you?”

Coulson looks liable to have a fucking stroke. Lips twitching, Bucky salutes. “Doing great, sweet thing, how about yourself?”

“Can’t complain,” Peter says, blushing prettily.

Coulson ends up having to drag him off. Tony can’t imagine the dressing down he’s going to be receiving once they’re in private. Actually, he can, and it’s an image he cherishes. It wouldn’t hurt for the sweet kid to have some sense knocked into him by the other guards—before one of the inmates knocks it into him for them. The thought makes Tony’s fist clench around his fork. If anybody is knocking anything into Peter, it will be him. And Bucky. Preferably at the same time.

“You can hold him down,” Tony says lowly to Bucky across the table. “I’d like to see your thick arms wrapped around him. He looks like a squirmer, so sensitive. You can keep him still with nowhere to go, sitting on your cock, and I’ll suck him off. I bet he cries.”

“Shut up,” Bucky says, eyes half-lidded. He makes a stabbing motion with his plastic fork. “Or I’ll end up in the bathroom at the park beating off.”

“I like the thought of that.”

“Yeah, well I don’t.”

The next time Peter comes around, he is alone. Tony, Toomes, and some of the other guys are sitting around the table playing poker.

“Afternoon gentlemen,” Peter says cordially. Tony is immediately smitten—the kid is trying so hard to be a Big Boy. It’s so fucking endearing. All Tony wants to do is drag the kid by the belt to the nearest cell and suck him off.

“Afternoon, handsome,” Tony says.

“I hope there’s no gambling going on,” Peter says, his arms cross across his chest. Jesus, his arms are skinny but fucking built, muscles straining beneath the cuffs of his shirt. There’s strength there. He’s reminded suddenly that this kid did pass the academy, so he does have some training under his belt.

“Gambling is against the rules, officer,” Tony says brightly. He takes the cigarette from behind his ear, hands desperate for something to do, and tucks it between his lips. “Do we look like rule breakers to you?”

Peter shakes the hand of each man around the table. Tony would have to be blind not to see the looks he’s garnering: incredulity, attraction, calculation. Toomes looks like he’s about to cream his jumpsuit when his rough hand wraps around Peter’s soft, tiny one. The look he shoots Tony is smug.

“Do I get a handshake, Officer?” Tony asks sweetly as the kid is trying to make his escape.

He looks at Tony’s hand like it is a trap. Tony softens.

“I’m sorry if I came on too strong before,” he says gently. “I just want to say, Welcome to LCF.”

Peter takes his hand. It is just as soft and smooth as it looks, but the grip is strong and firm, and Tony feels irrational pride—look at this little boy standing up to him, so fucking fearless. He makes sure to keep the handshake simple and wholesome, even though it hurts to let go. Judging by the look on Peter’s face, he agrees.

“Thanks, Mr. Stark,” the kid breaths and fuck. That goes right to his cock.

“You’re quite welcome,” he purrs.

The guards work 2-2-3’s, predictably. That means that Peter will have two day shifts, two days off, three night shifts, two days off, two day shifts, three days off, so on and so forth. The next two days with no Peter to look forward to and Bucky spending the 9 to 5 picking up trash are some of the dullest he’s ever had. Rhodey is the only consolation. They spend a lot of their time watching television together or playing chess.

And nights are spent with Bucky. They take turns topping, pressing each other into the mattress and muttering a litany of dirty prose in each other’s ears. Peter makes a lot of appearances in their repertoire, and some of the best orgasms Tony’s had in ages come from imagining him walking into his cell someday to find Bucky sucking off Officer Parker, or the other way around.

Sometimes, Tony has to go behind the curtain in his cell and pretend he’s taking a shit, when in reality he is jerking off to the thought. Popping a boner during poker isn’t exactly welcome.

The night shifts aren’t ideal. From 6 pm to 6 am, Peter will come in to walk the floor, shining light into cells to make sure everything is up to code. There isn’t as much time for conversation, but Tony figures he’ll be happy to spend the night awake in his buck just for the glimpses of Peter he’ll get. God, he’s fucking worked up over this kid. Mr. Stark, he called him. Jesus.

When Peter comes in at six, it is to general greeting suffused with catcalls. His face turns red as a tomato, but he smiles, looking pleased by the comradery.

“Hey doll,” Bucky says when he strolls by. Trays came in a few minutes prior, so they are eating. Salisbury steak tonight, disgusting—but the gravy isn’t half bad. Peter waves, coming over.

“Hi Mr. Barnes. Hi Mr. Stark.”

“It’s Tony, sweetheart,” Tony says. “Even Coulson calls us by our first names. You can do it too.”

“T-Tony,” Peter stutters.

“Say it again,” Tony purrs. “You need to get your practice in now.”

Bucky kicks him under the table. “You’re going to give him an aneurysm. Sorry Pete—Tony is a bit of a horn dog. He’s what the kids call thirsty.”

Peter laughs, hiding his smile behind his hand. “Yeah, I could have guessed. Is he like this with everybody?”

Tony goes to open his mouth, but is stopped by the increased pressure on the arch of his foot by Bucky’s boot under the table. When he glances over, Bucky looks earnest, serious. He puts a scarred hand over his heart. “No sir. Swear on my service tags. You’ve got us all smitten.”

Peter melts. He bites his lip, casting Tony a shy but warm glance. “I—you guys are so nice. I better get back to—yeah—”

They both watch Peter’s ass as he walks away.

“You smooth motherfucker. I need to start taking a page out of your book,” Tony mutters. He rubs his ankle softly against Bucky’s. It’s the most affection they’re willing to give each other out on the floor. Affection is weakness here, and as the guy who runs the floor, Tony knows he has a big target on his chest. He’d rather not make it any bigger. For him, or for Bucky.

It’s nearing ten PM. Lights go out at 9:30, and while not everyone is asleep, the raucous gatherings are contained to individual cells.

Like Tony’s. He is biting his knuckles, panting as Bucky sucks him off. They’ve spent the last hour cuddling in the bunk, running their hands over each other, muttering dirty things between them. He’s been hard for the better part of that hour, and it’s only now that Bucky has shown mercy on him, tugging him up to sit on the edge of the bunk, knees spread wide. He rucks up Tony’s wifebeater over his abs and chest to rub a thumb at one of his nipples, causing his cock to jump.

“Let’s give a show, baby, huh?” Bucky whispers before swallowing him down. Tony jolts, barely managing to cut off the groan that builds up in his throat.

Bucky gives head with enthusiasm and without shame, probably because he looks so fucking hot without his inhibitions, and he knows it. Eyes closed like Tony’s cock is the tastiest thing he’s ever had in his mouth, Bucky drools and chokes himself, sometimes pressing Tony’s cock up so that he can mouth at the older man’s balls, taking them into his mouth one at a time.

Tony holds off his orgasm for as long as he can. He loves this, loves how aroused Bucky gets from sucking cock, whining around it, one hand reaching between his own legs to jerk himself off.

Then comes the light. It blinds Tony whose eyes are accustomed to the darkness. He gasps, jerking backwards in horror at being caught, but Bucky’s hands grab his hips and wrench him forwards, taking him deeper.

There comes a gasp, high and effeminate.

Peter.

The flashlight fumbles and clicks off, but Tony doesn’t hear the footsteps move away. His eyes readjust to the darkness, and he sees Peter’s form standing in the doorway, one hand up to press against his mouth.

Bucky chokes himself, swallowing around the head of Tony’s cock, and something about being watched—being watched by Peter—has Tony gasping, fisting Bucky’s long hair and fucking into his throat as he cums. He barely manages to keep his eyes open through the pleasure, because now he can just make out the dim form of features on Peter’s face, eyes half-closed, and knuckles clutched between his teeth.

He likes what he sees.

“Jesus, baby,” Tony whispers, stroking Bucky’s hair. The man stands up, pants slung to his ankles, fisting his naked cock furiously. The low cots mean that when he cums with a groan, he stripes Tony’s chest with it, and he loves it, fucking loves marking and being marked by Bucky. “You wanted to give Peter a show, huh?”

The sound Peter makes is tortured. He turns and nearly sprints away, perfunctorily walking down the rest of the cells, glancing in to make sure no one is smoking or hoarding blankets or any other thing.

They sit side by side on the bunk, panting.

“All part of the plan, handsome,” Bucky mutters, pressing a tender kiss to Tony’s forehead.

“Petey came to my cell last night,” Toomes says the next day. The guard on duty is in Tony’s palm, so Tony smokes unabashedly and without fear of repercussions, flicking his ash in a neat pile next to him, because littering isn’t cool.

He isn’t sure what his facial expression says, but he hopes its as stony and unbelieving as he feels. “Good for you, Toomes. Did you finally get that suck job you wanted?”

The other man scoffs, waving away Tony’s accusations. “He’s too skittish for that. But he saw me reading. Frankenstein. Did you know he’s a big reader, Tony?”

Tony didn’t know. He tries not to let it show how rankled it makes him, that there is any part of Peter that this vulture has picked off before Tony or Bucky.

“Maybe you can start a book club,” Tony suggests.

Beside him, Rhodey snorts into his cards.

“He’s full of shit, Tony. You know that,” Bucky soothes. He’s sitting on Tony’s cot, freshly showered, watching Tony pace, cigarette clutched between his lips. The younger man is getting a tan from his time spent out in the sun picking up trash. For a fair skinned, fair eyed man, he tans surprisingly well. Tony certainly appreciates the aesthetic.

“He’s not. Not about this, at least,” Tony mutters. “Peter waved to him tonight at dinner when you were getting your tray. I didn’t think it was possible for anyone to look at Toomes with a pleasant expression. I can’t unsee it.”

“You poor thing,” Bucky says, sounding not at all sympathetic. “Look, the kid’s worked here for three days. This is his fourth fucking shift. Seduction takes time. You always do this—if something you want doesn’t fall into your lap right away, you get mopey. Where’s the Tony you always talk about, the one who had patience, who worked hard to reap rewards?”

“Worked real hard to reap my dad’s money, you’ve got that right,” Tony mutters. “You suck at pep talks, snowflake.”

Bucky rolls his eyes. “Then how about I just console you?”

Tony takes the cigarette from his mouth and points it at him. “Now you’re talking.”

It’s nearing two in the morning. Peter has been by a handful of times, face red when he glances into their cell. Bucky and Tony jerked each other off hours ago—shame he missed it—and have spent the rest of the evening sitting on the cot talking. Bucky does push-ups. Tony admires the view.

“I’m out of smokes,” Bucky says. He means pot—Tony doesn’t partake, but on night when Bucky does, sleeps easier and wakes more rested. “I need more papers.”

“I got ‘em baby.”

“Thanks, Tony.”

Tony can get anything into prison. It’s about greasing the guards—and he makes sure to know which ones squeak and which ones don’t. Then he keeps them well, well lubricated. Whenever someone needs something (matches, drugs, porn, other contraband), Tony is the guy who gets it. But he’s not dumb enough to be the guy who keeps it. That’s on the straw men Tony keeps around the block. One houses the rolling papers. Another has the pot. There’s a cellphone in the cell beside Tony. And if there are shakedowns with guards Tony doesn’t have under his thumb, those men agree to take the fall, and Tony agrees to make it up to them.

It’s late and dark, most people actually asleep now. Tony feels his way down to the cells to the guy who’s housing the papers for joints. The guy snores to wake the dead, but Tony doesn’t care, letting himself in and going to the designated location.

It’s on his way back that he hears the noise.

Voices.

He’d ignore them—some guys will stay up all night talking—but one of those voices is too high.

It’s panicked, too.

Breathing heavier, he takes care to muffle his steps. He isn’t wearing shoes, and that makes him vulnerable in a fight, but he’s held his own in worse situations. The element of surprise will be instrumental in coming out on top—if he needs to. Keeping his breaths quiet, he follows the sounds to the showers, empty but still smelling damp and faintly of soap.

It’s definitely Peter’s voice.

There are windows here that let in the moonlight. Tony stands in the shadow of the doorway, watching and listening.

“Come on, Adrian, quit—”

“You come on, Petey. I’ll make it good for you. It’s got to be tough, being around all the men on the block, being flirted with all the time. Gets a kid hot and bothered I bet, huh? You’re a hot little thing. I saw the way you looked at me last night. I’m here for you, honey. You can use me—”

“I don’t want to. I could lose my job.”

“I’ll take it to the grave, Pete, I swear.”

Peter is pressed against the tiled wall between two showerheads. Adrian is pinning him there with his body, and the size difference is drastic. Peter is so fucking tiny and frail looking, eyes huge and frightened, hands clenching and unclenching even though he has a fucking weapon, come on Pete, pull your baton, your taser, your fucking gun—

Adrian’s hand drifts from where it’s caressing Peter’s jaw. It presses against his chest, fingering the buttons down Peter’s dress blues, and then palms the young man’s cock.

Tony sees red. He wishes he had the shiv he keeps hidden on the floor, but there’s no time to search for it in the dark, and he can make do without it anyway. Get Adrian down and then pull Peter’s baton, beat Toomes again and again and again until the man eats his meals through a straw or not at all.

“I said no, Toomes.” Peter grabs the man’s wrist and twists it expertly. With a strength Tony didn’t know could be contained in such a tiny form, he switches their positions to press Toomes’s face into the wall, grinding it against the tiles. The man struggles but Peter is holding strong, lithe little muscles bulging as he kicks the man’s legs apart so he can’t get proper leverage to push him away. Then he grabs his cuffs, and in a heartbeat, the larger man is subdued. “I tried to be nice, didn’t I? No means no, asshole.”

He wrenches Toomes away from the wall and they both turn to see Tony standing there. They all look at each other, mouths open. Then Tony lifts his hands and brings them together softly, a standing ovation.

“I’m not going to lie,” he says breathlessly. “I’m a little hard right now.”

Peter scowls. “Not now, Tony. Go press the button to let the other guards know I need help.”

“No can do, sweet thing. But it looks like you’ve got it covered for yourself.”

Peter does, frog marching Toomes across the floor and out of the Block. Tony watches it all with an incredulous expression. And a chub. Even after they’re gone, he stands on the quiet, dark floor, pondering what he’s seen. When Bucky puts a hand on his shoulder, Tony nearly jumps out of his own skin.

“What happened?” he asks. “Was that Peter I heard?”

“Oh Buck. You won’t believe this yarn I’m going to spin you.”

Toomes doesn’t return to the block. More than likely, he is shifted to another block with more violent offenders. They tend to group inmates based on the charges against them and their charge history. Tony wonders what exactly he’ll be charged with now. Attempted assault of a police officer? It sounds delicious. Whatever the punishment, it will be too good for him.

Bucky is torn up. Coming home from war has left him sensitive to certain aggressions, and he often feels things too keenly. Takes things too personally. “No means no,” he says, voice thick, faced press into Tony’s neck as he holds him. “Why don’t people listen? No means no.”

“We know that. They know that too. They just don’t care, baby. We’ll see Pete tomorrow and find out how he’s doing.”

Bucky lifts his head. His eyes are cloudy and distant “Tell me again how he roughed up Toomes.”

“With pleasure,” Tony purrs. “He’s so goddamn petite, but his hiding some serious muscles under that uniform. God, it had me worked up, the way he knocked Toomes’s legs apart. The snap of the cuffs. When we get out of here, snowflake, we need to invest in a pair of those.”

Bucky snorts, but he looks pleased.

Part of Tony worried that Peter wouldn’t come in for his shift. He wouldn’t blame the kid; he’d almost been assaulted on the job. The guards had it tough. If it wasn’t sexual harassment, it was physical intimidation—the latter of which Tony himself had been guilty of. But he shouldn’t have underestimated their boy.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” Peter says shyly. He’s got his hands on his narrow hips, but Tony knows that those fingers are long enough to wrap all the way around a man’s wrist, wrenching it back.

“How are you?” Bucky asks when Peter comes by.

Peter smiles, soft and gentle. “I’m okay, Bucky. How are you?”

“Better, now that I’ve seen your handsome face.”

Peter blushes, so susceptible to Bucky’s lines. Then he turns his eyes to Tony, and they grow colder. He barely nods recognition before strutting away. Tony can’t even appreciate the way the tight pants hug his ass, because he’s too busy with his mouth agape, jerking a thumb at the boy’s back and asking Bucky, “What did I do?”

That night they are waiting up for Peter the first time he makes his rounds. They decide to sit on the floor so as to be as non-threatening as possible (Peter went through a fucking ordeal yesterday, and they aren’t looking to add to his stress), Tony with his back against the edge of the cot and Bucky propped up against the wall, one foot flat on the floor and the other tickling Tony’s thighs. Yes, the bunks are that small.

As soon as Peter’s light shines in, Bucky calls for him gently.

Carefully, he steps into the room, shining the light towards the ceiling to cast a glow over all of them. His face is somber, but he smiles.

“Hey Bucky. What do you need?”

Bucky doesn’t beat around the bush. “We want to know if you’re really okay. Tony told me about Toomes. That guy’s a fucking piece of work. Hope some guys up on B Block crack his skull in—won’t be no skin off society’s nose.”

Peter shakes his head. “That’s not a good way to talk. That’s not justice. I’m doing fine—Toomes wasn’t hard to subdue.”

“You handled him like a pro,” Tony adds.

Peter’s look frosts over. “Like a police officer, yes. No thanks to you.”

Tony groans. “Is that why you’re mad at me? Because I wouldn’t go press the button for you, baby?”

“Don’t call me that. And yes. I thought we were—” Peter doesn’t finish. He blushes, obviously knowing how silly that sentence sounds: a CO being friends with an inmate. But it cuts Tony all the same, and Bucky’s look across the room is murderous.

“You didn’t try to get help? What the fuck, Tony.” His foot lashes out and catches Tony in the shin, and fuck that stings!

“I’m not a snitch,” Tony snaps.

“Look, I’ll leave you both to this—”

“I was going to handle it if Peter couldn’t—I was going to kill that son of a bitch. That’s how things work in here, you know that Bucky. This isn’t the military. There’s no honor or morals. There’s just rules, and the number one rule is no snitching. If there’s a problem, we handle it this way.”

Peter swallows. “Tony—you can’t just say that. I can’t—I’ve got to tell somebody that you said that, I think.”

“This place doesn’t have honor, but we do,” Bucky growls. “Or at least, I thought you did.”

“You know I’d have killed for him,” Tony says through his teeth. “Just like how I’d kill for you—”

“Would you fucking stop it?” Peter hisses. It’s like a bucket of cold water dumped over them to hear him curse. His grip has gone white on his flashlight he’s so tense, lips pressed into a thin, furious line. “Why are you two doing this? Is it—is this just to, to fuck with me? I don’t get it, I—”

All the anger seeps out of him. He looks lost, tortured. Both of the angry men in front of him soften. What is it about this boy that melts them like wax under flame? Bucky shuffles up onto his knees, looking with his long hair like some knight from an old medieval story, begging for forgiveness of his fair lady.

“Pete, we didn’t mean to come on so strong. Please—will you sit for a bit?”

Peter glances back at the floor. It is dark and mostly quiet, some laughter coming from a cell further down the line. “I shouldn’t,” he says. “I need to do my job.”

“We won’t keep you here, if you want to leave. We aren’t like Toomes. But if you’re willing, we’d like to talk. Work this out.”

Looking torn, Peter sits. Tony and Bucky flank him, but the boy doesn’t look threatened in the slightest, just hunches himself over to rest his elbows on his knees. “Okay. Go ahead and talk,” he says.

“Bucky and I are together.”

Peter snorts. “I got that when I saw him sucking you off.”

Tony blinks. “Oh. Well that happens in here every now and again—some men will do anything in here for company, even if they don’t really swing that way on the outside. But Bucky and I—we’re pretty in love.”

“Yeah,” says Bucky. “He’s dumb. But I love him.”

Peter laughs a little. “Okay. Yeah. So you two are together.”

“We’re polyamorous,” Tony admits. “That means we have a lot of love to give and aren’t unopposed to giving it to multiple people at once. Bucky here, he’s got a boyfriend down the line, Steve—you know Steve?”

“I know Mr. Rogers. He seems nice.”

“He’s real nice,” Bucky smirks. “Our point here is that up until now, we’ve had passing flings with other people, but we’ve never shared anyone. We’ve never wanted to share anyone—until you. And now it’s like our stupidity has squared itself, because we both are falling over ourselves to try to attract you.”

He’s glad he’s letting Bucky take the lead. Tony might have a way with words, but Bucky absolutely has tact and softness that Tony can’t muster up in his wildest dreams. Peter is sitting between them looking red-faced but thoughtful. “So, what? You guys both want to date me?”

“We can’t exactly set up a table with a cloth and wine and dine you, princess,” Tony says. He tries to stay soft and honest, because his mother always used to say that honesty is the best policy. Peter looks like the kind of kid who would appreciate that. “As unfortunate as that is. I’ve got five months left on my sentence, and Bucky has almost double that. And as—what is it Bucky? Thirsty?—as thirsty as we both are, we understand that you wouldn’t want to put your job in jeopardy.”

Peter looks relieved by their admission. “I don’t really know how I feel, to be honest. You’re both—wow, you’re both really hot. Duh. But I don’t know you. Maybe I could get to know you? A little at a time? And once you’re out Tony, if I’m not seeing anyone, we could go out? There’s…” Peter swallows. “There’s definitely chemistry here.”

“Yeah, kid, I feel that,” Tony says.

“We don’t want to pressure you,” Bucky emphasizes, shooting Tony a look overhead that says keep it in your pants. They’ve been seeing each other in here long enough to have reached the telepathic portion of their relationship, thanks. “You’re already promising more than we could have hoped for. And we really appreciate you sitting down and talking things out with us. That’s never easy, doll.”

The younger man blushes prettily, shrugging. He stands. “I really should get back to work.”

“Okay, kid. Whatever you need to do,” Tony agrees. He shifts, hard in his sweatpants, the proximity to his lover and his maybe, possibly, someday lover has sweat beading at the nape of his neck and his imagination running wild. Peter’s eyes track his movements and then fall to his lap.

He licks his lips.

Honest to god.

“I—wait for me. Just—” Peter disappears, flashlight bobbing as he continues down the line. They can hear him popping his head in to a cell further down and telling the guys to please be respectful of the other inmates, thanks!

“Buck,” Tony groans. They smash together with no finesse, both of them stressed and horny from their confrontation with Peter. They taste like mint toothpaste they used before lights out, and Tony licks into the younger man’s mouth unabashedly, sucking on his tongue, licking at his teeth. “God, I need you,” he whispers.

“Take me,” Bucky urges. “Come on, baby. Take me.”

They shed clothes like they’re on fire. Tony folds Bucky’s legs up—for a large guy, he’s surprisingly nimble—and lowers his mouth to Bucky’s ass, licking a hot stripe over his hole and to his balls. He hears the hiss above him, the groan muffled by a fist in his mouth. Not for the first time, Tony hates prison. He hates that they have to be quiet, that they can’t let themselves go and love each other properly, just hushed romps like this in the middle of the night.

“What do you think he meant?” Bucky pants, fingers clenching on Tony’s hair. “Wait for me?”

There is a whispered groan from the doorway. They both turn to see Peter there, leaning against the bars, eyes heavy. “I meant wait, but I get it. God, I get it. You’re both so, wow, god.”

“He’s eloquent,” Tony says. They shift on instinct, turning so as to give Peter a better view. He turns off his flashlight and it takes time for their eyes to adjust to the darkness. Peter stands with his back to the wall, hands clasped behind his back like he’s in handcuffs.

“I can’t—I can’t do anything,” Peter pants. “But I could watch. If you wanted me to.”

“Do you want to?” Bucky asks.

“God yes,” Peter breaths, voice high. One hand palms at his crotch. His uniform has him blending in to the darkness, but they can guess what he’s doing, and fuck that turns Tony on, like there’s fire in his blood. He goes back to eating Bucky’s ass, pressing a thumb against the rim to hold him open so he can slip his tongue inside.

“Jesus, Tony,” Bucky says. “Fuck me. Just fuck me, come on.”

Tony is in full agreement. It’s too much; they’re all too worked up. The sounds from Bucky, the sounds from Peter, the taste of his lover in his mouth—his cock feels fit to burst as he pulls it from his sweats. He doesn’t dare pump it for fear of blowing his load right away. God this isn’t going to be the best performance to share with their new love, but he hopes that Peter can forgive him if he comes off as a three-pump-chump.

He presses in slow. Bucky is still soft and pliant from their fucking the night before, and there’s no discomfort on his lover’s face even when he bottoms out. Bucky’s legs wrap around him and he urges Tony forward with his heels and voice: “Come on, baby. Fuck me. Give it to me. Put on a show.”

Tony knows just how Bucky likes it. There’s no holding back, just the brutal thrusting of his hips that has Bucky giving off choked noises, one hand pressed firmly over his mouth and the other scrabbling at the sheet on the cot. It only takes a moment for Tony to glance over and see Peter, hand flashing in the darkness as he jerks his own cock through his dress blues, and Tony is mounting the crest, balls contracting, stomach tensing.

Bucky blows first, untouched. Tony barely gets a fist around him when he realizes what’s happening, pumping furiously to help his lover through it. Then he is there himself, grip maybe too tight around Bucky’s cock, hips snapping desperately while he blows his load. It feels like it lasts forever. Was over so, so quick.

Even when they’re done, panting, sandwiched together, they hear Peter: breathy little whines from across the room. He stops jerking himself off when they stop lazily and lovingly grinding their hips together, but it’s obvious by the unconscious swaying of his hips that he didn’t cum.

“Take care of him,” Bucky mutters, pressing a kiss to Tony’s sweaty temple. “Get on your knees for him.”

“Yes,” Tony gasps. His cock slips free of Bucky, still tingling pleasantly. He walks on his knees the few feet it takes to be at Peter’s feet, staring up at his tortured expression.

“I can’t,” Peter gasps. “I can’t do anything. That’d be wrong—”

“Then don’t do anything, Officer,” Tony purrs. He reaches a hand up and rubs at Peter’s cock. The kid keens softly, thrusting his hips out even as he grips uselessly at the wall. He’s desperate for relief, desperate to get away. Tony bats his eyes, though no one can see in the dark. “Let me do the work, sir. Please?”

Peter swallows hard. He nods frantically, and that’s all Tony needs to undo Peter’s belt, wrench down his dress slacks and boxers. He doesn’t even get a good look at the kid’s cock, just swallows him down. It’s a nice mouthful, and he has to work to get the last inch or so, taking the head just into his throat. “I’m—I don’t want to hurt you,” Peter gasps.

Tony swallows.

Peter cums. Tony barely manages to pull back, desperate to taste him on his tongue. One hand comes up to work at Peter’s twitching cock, the other cradling his balls to help prolong his pleasure. The kid sounds like he’s never cum before in his life, hands gripping at the concrete wall, giving tiny aborted thrusts, mouth open and panting.

“Thank you, Officer,” Tony says, voice a little distorted from deep-throating. Peter slumps down the wall, knees shaking, until they’re kneeling across from each other. Tony can’t help it, he laughs a little. “You didn’t need to be worried about hurting me, baby. That wasn’t my first blowjob.”

It’s Peter’s turn to chuckle. “I did have good reason to be worried.” He cuts himself off, like there was more he was going to say, but stopped himself.

“What is it, doll?” Bucky asks. He’s lounging on the bed, watching them with lazy, sated eyes. He’s so fucking handsome, Tony crawls across the floor to kiss him and press the last of Peter’s cum into his mouth. The other man moans appreciatively.

“It’s kind of a crazy story,” Peter admits.

“We know a thing or two about crazy,” Tony says. “Try us.”

Peter’s clenches his hands together tightly. “It’s weird, actually. It has to do with a spider.”

Bucky and Tony share a glance, equal parts confused and amused. Tony settles in, leaning his head to rest on the cot beside Bucky. “Go on then,” he says. “We’re listening.”

Tag list: @crown-filth

#winterironspider #starker #winteriron #prison #drugs #violence #cagewrites

544 notes · View notes

whereisten · 5 years

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Gentle Monsters

Summary: After a night of running from a wild animal, you meet Johnny, the owner of the conservatory greenhouse you accidentally broke into. Johnny is kind and sweet—a little too sweet.

Genre and Warnings: angst, horror, some smut (nothing too intense), little profanity, few mentions of death, harassment, murder, a little fluff

Word count: 5.4K

[11:46 P.M]

Several weeks pass and you still can’t explain what exactly happened that night—or the next day. Johnny was one of kindest people you’d ever met, yet, he was the one who had your phone. You wanted to believe that he had nothing to do with the large animal that hunted you down that night, but you still couldn’t figure out how he would’ve gotten it.

You searched for it long before you reached the greenhouse, so it fell from you in the city streets. How did he know it was yours? How did he know your name?

You already answered these questions, but you didn’t want to believe it. How could a man as kindhearted and humane as Johnny possibly be that..monster.

You didn’t tell anyone what happened for fear that they’d dismiss it and laugh at you. Your roommates just assumed that you got lucky with someone that visited the bar you worked at. You laughed it off and quickly changed the topic whenever they asked who it was.

You still felt chills when you walked home alone late at night, glancing over your shoulder every few seconds only to see the dark, empty streets you were so familiar with.

As time went on, the memory of that night started to fade, and so did your memory of Johnny.

You wanted to see him, to explore more of his conservatory and to get answers on how he found your phone, even if deep down, you already knew the answer. Despite the possibility of who—or what Johnny may really be, you started to feel something for the brown-eyed boy that looked at you fondly. But you were scared. Scared of saying the truth out loud.

“Hey! I said can I get a gin and tonic please?!” A man yelled out from across the bar, interrupting your thoughts.

It was a busy Friday night as usual. Businessmen of all ages went out with each other to talk about their wealth and how wonderful their lives were.

“I just bought a 100-foot yacht, but the piece of shit only has four floors, I only got it because my wife was being a bitch when I forgot her birthday” one man laughed with his friend at a table you were serving.

They always tried to compare their extravagant lives and decide who had it worse. They disgusted you. Every week was the same thing. You always heard about their first world problems whether or not you wanted to.

“I’ll do you one better. My son completely wrecked his 2020 Ferrari, the bastard was going 200 mph when he ran a red light and hit some junkyard van, with some foreigners in it, killing everyone on sight, but guess what? The bastard’s perfectly fine. I can’t get rid of him!” they burst out into laughter as you grew sick to your stomach.

“Oh shit, what are you gonna do?” a third guy asked.

The other shrugged his shoulders. “Ah, the DA will take care of it of course” they laughed again.

You placed the drinks they ordered on their table and started to walk away.

“Hey! Princess, I got a question” one of them waved you down.

Here we go.

You gave a thin smile and walked back to their table. “How can I help you?” You said quietly, a bit tired from all the walking you’d done.

“Why don’t you pour yourself a drink? Take a load off and sit with us” the old man smelled like cheese and had liver spots all over, his tone and the way he eyed you up and down made you feel like projectile vomiting right then and there.

What you wanted to do was punch the shit out of his entitled ass, but you couldn’t do that, women wouldn’t dare do that at their job despite the ridiculous levels of harassment we received.

So you continued to smile and keep a poised posture.

“Thank you for the offer, but I have to decline.” You nodded and turned to head back to the bar. The bouncer watched from a few feet away, ready to step in if you needed him to.

The old man grabbed your wrist to pull you back to the table. “Now, you don’t wanna make a few guys like us upset, right? We paid for good service, really good service” he winked and you looked over to the bouncer who started to walk quickly towards the table. You raised a hand to tell him to stop, you got this.

You shook your wrist out of the man’s grip and turned to the asshole who was feeling quite brave after a few drinks.

“You’re right. You do pay for good service. And to show our appreciation for your business we will provide several drinks for you and your friends on the house. I’m sorry, but that’s the best I can do” you grinned, hoping the firey hate you felt didn’t show through your eyes.

“Huh, you’re a tough one I see, bring on the free drinks, but next time, I’m gonna need something else from you sweet cheeks” the blob of cottage cheese said smugly.

You started to walk away again when you felt a slap to your behind. You furiously turned around to see the men giggling and holding their heads down.

You exhaled and raised your hand to the bouncer who started to walk towards you again.

He knew this meant you had something special for these fools.

You took 5 beer glasses out of the dishwasher in the kitchen and reached into a cabinet under the bar, and pulled out a jar.

Re-LAX

You smiled as you grabbed the laxative powder jar. You dipped into it with a tablespoon and dropped 5 scoops into each glass. You decided to put two extra scoops into the last glass, saving that one for the handsy jerk.

You filled each glass to the brim with beer, making sure to stir the powder as your poured.

You walked over to the table with your tray and placed each glass in front of the men, making sure to hand the extra special glass to your extra special guest.

“Have a good night guys, we’ll see you next week.” You beamed and walked away.

The men continued on with their conversation and drank. You were busy with other tables, but you would glance over to that table to see that the glasses were empty. You silently laughed to yourself.

You fools are gonna be shitting your brains out on your 24 carat gold toilets tonight.

When you went home that night, you closed your eyes and fell asleep quickly. As you slept, you dreamt of Johnny.

In your dream, you wore your silk night gown. The apartment was empty, you were alone. Maybe your roommates were over at their friends house or at a party, you didn’t know, you couldn’t remember if they had told you they’d be out late or not. Your phone was nowhere to be found and you didn’t remember how you got there.

You sat up in your bed and looked around your room that was lit from the bright moon outside your window. You were alone, and yet you felt a presence other than your own.

“Hello?” You asked quietly.

You stood up and walked out to the living room, you peeked into the other rooms and still found no one. You decided to walk back into your room. You stopped once you passed the door frame when you caught a pair of glowing red eyes peering out from the corner of your room.

“Wh-who’s there?” You asked through a shakey breath.

No answer.

You grabbed an umbrella that sat at the door and pointed it to the figure.

“What do you want?” You said as you held the long umbrella up in defense.

The eyes were familiar. They seemed to be the same eyes that belonged to the animal that followed you that night, but the figure was not the same.

As he stepped out from the shadows in the corner of your room, his red eyes dissipated into the brown ones that you loved. “Johnny?” You asked, your grip on the umbrella weakening slightly.

“You never came back” his voice was low, his face was somber. He looked hurt. He was barefoot and wearing a white T-shirt and blue jeans. The sleeves of the shirt stuck to his brawny arms and his skin still radiated in the night. You couldn’t keep your eyes off of him and the strange glow that surrounded his body. He was a magical sight.

“Johnny..why are you here? What are you?” You asked as your started to remember the very reason why you never returned to his conservatory.

He continued to walk towards you, ignoring how your hold on the umbrella strengthened.

He didn’t have the bright smile you remembered. Instead he looked sad. You felt a small pain in your heart as you looked on the gloomy Johnny. You didn’t want to see him like this and you couldn’t bare to think that you were the cause of him being sad. But you too were hurt, hurt that he was hiding things from you. You needed answers.

“Johnny, what’s going on? Why did you have my phone?” You asked as he walked closer and your trembling hands struggle to hold firm the umbrella.

“You already know the answer.” Johnny said softly, grabbing the top of the umbrella and taking it out of your weak hands.

He was closing the space between your two bodies, you backed away. “Why? Why me? You scared me.” Tears filled your eyes as you remembered how terrified you were that night. Johnny still looked down at you, lips curving downward.

You felt a cold wall on your back that stopped you from walking backwards. Johnny now stood about a foot away from you. “Please, don’t be afraid of me” Johnny looked into your eyes, he always did when he spoke to you. It was like he found something there that he couldn’t let go of.

“I’ll never hurt you” he whispered, closing in on the space between you once again.

He tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear as he held your face. He softly wiped away a tear that ran down you round cheeks with his thumb.

“You still smell amazing” Johnny smiled and you felt your heart drop. That smile, the one you had missed for the last few weeks. You didn’t know why you loved it so much, but it made you feel content and safe. Everything about Johnny was homely and protective.

“Why didn’t you come back?” He asked as he looked at your lips which were just a few inches away from his.

His eyes followed down your neck and to your breasts and nipples that were barely covered by your skimpy silk night gown. You felt exposed to him, you should’ve regretted your decision to wear this night gown but you didn’t. You wanted him.

The overwhelming mixture of fear and contentment you got from him made you like you couldn’t breathe around him, he gave you a rush. If what you thought was true, he was dangerous, but he was also kind and seductive.

He watched your chest rise up and down rapidly as he got closer and leaned down to ghost his lips over your neck. You wanted to feel his soft lips on your skin, you wanted his hands to touch your body through your silk night gown.

But you had to hold yourself back. He still didn’t tell you what he was.

“Why would I go back to a monster?” You asked quietly and looked away, hesitant to ask such a question.

He looked up from your chest and into your eyes again, pulling back.

You looked at him with a stern expression.

“Am I a monster to you?” You could see the tears start to build up in his eyes as he could barely get out the word.

“I don’t know, I don’t know what you are.” You cried out, overwhelmed by everything you felt. Johnny was soft, delicate, kind, and this is what made you like him. But you truly didn’t understand what he was and why he was after you.

“Let me show you.” Johnny quickly walked towards you and held your head in his hands. He pulled you in for a passionate kiss. You kissed him back, you heart beat fast as you finally felt his heavenly lips on yours. He kissed you with so much fire, you felt your skin heat up. It was like he had been waiting for it all his life. You felt his hot breath on your soft and moist lips as he turned his head. His lips and the way they caressed yours made you feel like nothing you had ever felt before. Your heart was in your throat and a yearning for more started to grow in your stomach. It all felt so real.

You pulled away to breathe and looked into his dark eyes as he picked you up. You wrapped your legs around his waist as he turned and headed towards your bed. He continued to kiss you hungrily, forcing your mouth open with his tongue. You placed your hands on his head to hold his mouth firm against yours, you felt as though you may die if he let go and released your lips.

You felt like you needed him to breathe. You wanted to breathe him in, you want to feel him. You didn’t know it before but you had been aching for him, his smile, his body for all these weeks. He was magnetic and you couldn’t resist him.

He leaned down and gently placed you onto your bed, making sure to not break the kiss. He worked his mouth on yours as you tugged at the hem of his t-shirt. He quickly threw shirt over his head and across the room. You marveled at the sight of his toned body.

He was so beautiful, his skin gleamed in the moonlight and his wide shoulders were so perfect. He leaned back down so that he was in between your legs. you ran a hand through his shiny and soft hair as he kissed your neck. He started to suck hard, leaving a mark on the perfect and dainty skin of your neck. You cried out at the feeling.

He had been thinking about doing this for so long, holding you in his arms and making love to you. And now he finally had you in his grasp. You were his now.

He sat up on the bed and pulled you onto his lap. He continued to suck small marks on your neck as you moaned out. Your hand rubbed his back as he kissed you softly. You opened your eyes as you felt the large scars that decorated his back.

He pulled away and bit his lips as he looked at your eyes.

He saw the worried expression on your face and gave a small smile from his swollen lips. He took your left hand and intertwined it with his right hand. “Take me for who I am, don’t let me go...please” Johnny whispered as he looked into your eyes deeply.

As you nodded, he reached for you lips again and let go of your hand so that he could hold your hips. He gripped your hips and pressed it down so that you could feel his growing member against your core. You moaned out at the feeling. “Johnny..”

He let go of your hips as you started to grind into his lap on your own, and you pulled his gold belt loose and threw it across the room so it joined his t shirt on the floor. He pulled his lips from yours and looked into your eyes again as he brought down the straps of your night gown, they fell down the sides of your arms easily.

Johnny kissed down your neck and to the top of your breasts. He sucked hard once again and ran his hand down your back. He groaned as he felt your wetness on his crotch through his jeans, and your hand in his hair.

“Johnny..yes” You breathily moaned out for him, wanting to feel more.

He looked up at your hooded eyes and smiled.

“This is who I am” Johnny said as he brought the hand he used to caress your back, to your front. He flicked up his index finger and revealed an extremely long and point nail, he then opened his hand out to reveal that all of his nails were long. Your eyes widened as you watched his hand turn into a large claw.

His fingers cracking and elongating in front of your very eyes. You gasped and looked back to Johnny who’s eyes glowed a deep red, the honey brown eyes you loved had disappeared within seconds.

You tried to get off his lap but he held you down with his other hand. “What’s wrong? Don’t like what you see?” Johnny asked in a deep tone, his voice slowly splitting into multiple octaves.

“Johnny! Let me go!” You screamed.

He grabbed your throat with his claw and pressed the sharp nail on his thumb into it.

You cried out. And suddenly jolted up in your bed. You opened your eyes and looked up at your ceiling. You quickly sat up and looked around your room, there was no sign of Johnny. You panted and grasped onto the sides of your night gown which stuck to your sweaty body. You closed your eyes tightly and opened them again.

Nightmare. It was just a nightmare.

“But it felt so real” You said to yourself. Your hands were shaking, but you managed to stand up and walk over to your bathroom. You flipped the light switch and squinted when it shined brightly.

You opened them wide to look at your skin. There were no hickeys, no marks, no scratch. You were completely spotless.

It really was a nightmare. You could’ve sworn you felt Johnny’s hot breath on your chest and his large hands on your back just moments ago. The details of his face remained strong in your mind even though you hadn’t seen him for weeks. The visual of his small nose, Cupid’s bow; his thick thighs and strong arms, it was all so vivid and real.

Your heart dropped when you remembered his glowing eyes and claws.

What’s happening to me?

You thought to yourself. How could you imagine Johnny like that? He was nothing like that, or at least, you didn’t think he was.

——————

The next day your coworker woke you up after calling 3 times in a row. You prayed she wasn’t asking you to fill in for her on your day off. But you had to answer.

“Hello?” You sluggishly asked as you rubbed your eyes.

“Y/N! Finally! Have you seen the news?!” She asked in a state of panic.

“I haven’t even seen my feet, Elaine, why would I watch the news.” You yawned, you hated being woken up.

“You remember that nasty old man that you served last night? Something happened to him” Elaine said before you interrupted her.

“Oh, I bet he had a shitty night alright.” You said, smiling to yourself.

“No! He’s dead!” Elaine yelled.

“W-What? But—how? I didn’t give him that much, is that even possible?” You sat up in your bed, you started to panic now.

“No, y/n, it wasn’t you, he was attacked by some—large animal it seems. But the craziest part is that his body was ripped in half and strategically placed in the center of Rose Street.” Elaine paused, waiting for your reaction.

Rose Street was the street the bar was on.

“They think it’s an animal because it’s impossible for a human to rip a body in half with so much force like that. But the animal isn’t like a coyote or fox, no it was huge. Y/N...it’s a gruesome scene” Elaine continued.

“His mouth was stuffed with his own shit and that’s the part the police can’t explain. Also, why wouldn’t the animal eat him? All parts of his body were found scattered about.” Elaine spoke without taking a break, words always left her mouth rapidly like wildfire.

You stared at your wall, unable to concentrate. Numerous thoughts ran through your mind at once, but deep down you knew what—or who—it was.

You hated that man, but this was crazy, he was torn apart, his body was mutilated. You knew it was the same animal that followed you that night. Your mind flashed back to the memory of the vivid dream you had last night of Johnny, how his large claws held your throat. You rubbed it as you remembered the feeling.

“Hello?” Elaine asked over the line.

“Y-Yeah. I’m here. I don’t know what to say Elaine, I hated the guy but this is wild. Do the police have any leads?” You finally asked.

“No, the sheriffs department is settled on it being a wild animal attack, but the man was loaded, there’s no way his family don’t have private detectives on the case as we speak. The family want an explanation, and they’re not gonna settle for the wild animal one, especially since things like that don’t just happen here in the city.” Elaine paused.

“Be careful out there, Y/N. The last place he was seen was at the bar so you know there’s gonna be a lot of nosey people around, hell, we’ll probably see the detectives too.”

You were silent. You thought about Johnny. Was he there last night at the bar? Did he see the man put his hands on you? Or was it just coincidence? You had to speak with him, you had to figure out what was going on so your mind could be at peace, because this—this couldn’t possibly be his doing.

“Thank you Elaine, I’ll see you tomorrow” You said and hung up the phone.

You jumped up to get ready, you had to see Johnny now.

_____________________

You walked up to Johnny’s conservatory, looking up at the beautiful building before you.

It still felt so bright and welcoming.

It was busy when you walked in, two tour guides took groups of people around, showing them the trees and flowers around them and explaining what they were, like Johnny explained to you on your one-on-one tour.

Others were sitting with each other at the tables and on the benches, talking and laughing. Some loners were reading books or writing.

It was nice to see such a beautiful place be filled with peaceful people.

“So this is called a dracula simia!” You heard Johnny’s enthusiastic voice to the left. You walked towards the sound.

There he was. The tall man that made you shiver and ache at the same time. He was so handsome. He wore a grey suit and a dark blue bow tie, he looked very dapper today. He smiled brightly as he kneeled down to show a group of small kids a flower.

“Can anyone tell me what it looks like?” He asked as he looked around. God, he was gorgeous. His eyes squinted as he looked on the children fondly.

“It looks mean!” One little boy called out.

Johnny laughed and you felt your heart drop as he place a hand on the back of the child’s head.

“Well, you’re not wrong! But they call it the monkey orchid, because it looks like a monkey!” He said as kids burst out in ooohs and aaahhhs. He nodded and stood up straight, that’s when he saw you.

He completely shifted his attention away from the kids and to you. His smile widened and his eye lines crinkled. He was happy to see you.

“Now, why don’t you kids head to the cafe before part two of the tour!! Who like brownies? Who likes cookies?” Johnny bent down and place his hands on his knees and grinned as the kids cheered.

An older lady, you assumed to be their teacher, then walked up and thanked Johnny as she led the kids to the cafe.

Johnny walked up to you fast. He wanted to hug you but stopped, unsure of whether or not you wanted him to do that.

“It’s nice to see you, y/n, I thought you’d never show” Johnny looked down at you and into your eyes. He always made you weak when he did this and you couldn’t help but think of the way his hands and lips felt on your body in your dream.

The way his eyes watched your chest and your lips.

You had to snap out of it. Remember why you’re here.

“Johnny, we need to talk.” You said firmly, distracting yourself by looking at his bow tie.

“Anything for you, the prettiest person here.” Johnny laughed as he sweet-talked you, but your face stayed straight.

“W-what’s wrong?” Johnny’s eyebrows furrowed and a look of worry covered his face. You took his hand and led him outside, you couldn’t talk about it here, not with all these people around.

“I need to know, how did you find my phone?” You asked once you pulled him into a gazebo that was just outside of the greenhouse.

Johnny suddenly laughed. “that’s what this is about? I was on my way here when I noticed a shiny black object in a field of green grass. It wasn’t difficult to spot” he shrugged his shoulders.

“And how did you know my name?” You pressed on.

Johnny sighed. “Ok..I admit, I did unlock your phone and go through your twitter messages.”

You scoffed. “You invaded my privacy?!”

“I’m sorry, it was really rude of me to do” Johnny placed both hands in front of him in a prayer hand position. “Please forgive me, let’s start over.”

“This doesn’t make any sense. I searched for my phone before I walked in the field.” You looked to the side.

“I don’t believe you! What are you, Johnny?” You finally asked, your mind was going crazy and wouldn’t rest until you got the truth.

Johnny smirked. “I’m just a man that loves his plants, y/n.”

“So you mean to tell me that it wasn’t you that night...you weren’t the one following me?” You asked and watched as Johnny shook his head.

“Do I look like a 9-foot tall animal covered in hair?” He teased.

You paused. Something still didn’t feel right.

“Where were you last night?” You looked up at him and asked.

“Unfortunately, not with you” Johnny walked around you and looked on the fields outside of the gazebo.

“Why? Did you miss me? Did you dream of me?”

Your eyes flashed up to him. The last thing you wanted to do was mention your wet dream that featured him. He turned to face you.

“What’s this really about, y/n?” He put his hands in his pants pockets and leaned back on the wood. He was growing impatient.

“There was a man that was murdered last night, he—he harassed me at the bar and then a few hours later, he was killed..he was ripped apart” You said in a low tone.

“And you think I had something to do with that?” Johnny asked as he folded his arms over his chest.

You wanted to think that he had nothing to do with it, but you just couldn’t, your instinct told you otherwise.

“I-I’m just asking where you were” you stepped towards him.

Johnny scoffed, surprised by the fact that you thought he may have been involved in this somehow. “I was at home..watching Golden Girls, happy?”

You closed your eyes, you just needed to breathe and let it go. Johnny was nice, he didn’t do anything wrong and he answered your questions. It was time for you to start treating him nicely.

“I’m—sorry Johnny, there’s just a lot going on right now.” You turned away from him, holding back tears, you felt like you were slowly losing your mind and you didn’t know why.

In a matter of hours you felt love, lust, fear, pain, doubt and it was all too much. You held yourself in your arms. You felt goosebumps all over when you pictured the man from last night and how his mutilated body must’ve looked like.

“Let me help you, lets get something to eat, my treat for being an ass and going through your phone” Johnny said as he walked up to you and rubbed your back. He was so loving, always willing to help others, and here you were, trying to make a villain out of him.

You turned to face him with tears eyes, “that would be nice.”

The two of you headed into the cafe section of the greenhouse.

“What’s your favorite soup?” Johnny asked endearingly.

“Broccoli Cheddar” you responded as you sat down.

“Perfect, that’s the soup of the day!” Johnny clapped his hands together and headed to the chef. You watched as the little kids ran around the greenhouse. They were so cute and small, so innocent, you couldn’t help but smile and laugh.

“It’s nice to see your smile again” Johnny placed the bowl down in front of you.

“Thank you” You nodded and picked the spoon up.

“So..Golden Girls? Really?” You asked after taking a sip.

Johnny laughed out as he watched you.

“Hey! It’s a good show”

You shrugged. “To each their own, you just don’t seem like that kind of person”

“I mean old women are pretty funny.” Johnny stopped when a little girl ran up to him.

You nodded. “True”

Johnny went on to tell you about the cute elementary school kids that were on a field trip. He was always excited when he got the chance to talk about flowers and plants.

You chatted about the movies and shows you liked. You were a superhero movie fan and he was a horror movie fan so you both agreed to see Brightburn together.

“Wait, So is this our first date?” Johnny asked giddily.

You scrunched your nose and laughed. “Do we have to put titles on things? Also, you’re moving pretty fast Johnny.” You teased and watched his smile grow.

“But you didn’t say no though” he retorted.

You laughed. “Okay, okay you win, it’s a date.”

“Mr. Suh! Mr. Suh!” A little girl from the group he was leading ran up to him.

“Yes, Zena?” He asked sweetly as he turned to her.

“We wanna see the roses! I gotta bring one home to my mom!” She said, a bit out of breath because she was running around so much.

“Okay! I’ll be right there to help you get the brightest and more beautifulest ones” he was such a sweetheart, you couldn’t stop your heart from falling.

“Well, I gotta go” Johnny said with a pout as he stood up.

“Thank you for this” you smiled and took his hand that reached out to help you up.

He suddenly winced in pain once he held your hand. You swore you heard a light burning sound.

“Shit, are you okay?” You asked as you watched him hold his hand.

“Yes, ha ha, I’m fine, just a cut I forgot I had, I think your ring may have dug into it” He quietly whined.

“I’m so sorry” you said as you looked at the silver ring you completely forgot you put on that morning.

“Let me take a look” you said but Johnny quickly stepped back and smiled.

“I’m fine, it’s no big deal.” Johnny laughed.

“Anyway, I’ll be seeing you soon, y/n. And now you have my number, call me whenever you’d like.”

You smiled and nodded before heading out.

You couldn’t help but think about how weird his reaction was, how he wouldn’t let you touch him.

But you shook your head and took a deep breath. Things were finally starting to calm down, you didn’t need to overthink anything.

——————

When you finally reached your apartment, you changed into a large shirt and shorts. You were about to go into your bed when you saw something on your floor. You bent down to get a closer look and noticed that it was a shirt, a white t-shirt and a belt.

You got ready so quickly, you must have overlooked it earlier.

The gold buckle is what stuck out to you. It was the same belt Johnny wore in your dream.

Impossible. It was just a dream.

But you looked at the items and recalled when he took them off and threw them across your room in your dream. He had never been in your room before and none of your roommates had boys over. Even if they did, they wouldn’t just leave their clothes in your room.

You shuddered as you thought about your dream.

Was it real after all?

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