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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

love letter, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Jeon Jungkook gets love letters shoved in his mailbox and under his apartment door all the damn time. You, too, get love letters shoved in your mailbox and under your door. All the time. It could be a sweet gesture, but this is the twenty-first century. Love letters aren't all they're cracked up to be.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; short graphic descriptions of sex acts; smut (fem reader, a very intense make-out session including some wild tongue and too much saliva, nipple play, a bit of m-receiving oral, cowgirl, handjob); non-idol!BTS – technically university, blond, softsub!Jungkook x working, softdom!reader; slightly desperate and needy JK

yes, yes, it’s MTV Unplugged ‘Telepathy’JK

"I'm so tired of people thinking they have a chance with me."

Was the exasperated declaration as you backed up into your apartment, only to turn around and witness Jeon Jungkook dumping a waterfall of colorful envelopes from his giant black backpack onto your hardwood floor.

"At least remove your shoes before you start flaunting how hot you are," you replied dryly.

Jungkook rolled his eyes as he kicked off his large white sneakers. "Look at this shit! It's relentless! It's annoying! I just want to live my life!"

You vaguely recalled Jungkook being excited about his first love letter upon reaching university, and then the second, the third... and now you were staring at pile number five hundred on your doormat. "I don't know, put a sign on your door? 'Please stop, the answer is no?'"

Jungkook winced. "I can't do that. How many hearts am I going to break?"

"Uh, I dunno, you already broke half the campus by existing in general."

He bonked you on the head lightly with his denim jacket sleeve. "I have not. I've only slept with a couple people and that was supposed to be no strings attached."

You shrugged. "People can't understand that. Especially women."

He puffed his cheeks and stepped over the pile. You noticed the small stickers and nice handwriting on the colorful pastel paper. You almost felt bad, seeing all the effort put into them.

"At least they're cute. I only get torn notebook pages with scribbles."

"Stop lying. You get girls' letters too," Jungkook grumbled. "Can I borrow your computer? One of my professors assigned an online quiz and the internet at my place is down, again."

"You gotta move," you commented, kneeling down to collect the mess Jungkook made. You noticed Jungkook flit his eyes about before throwing up his hands and bending down to help you.

"I'm trying to get out of the lease, but I have a couple more months left," he complained childishly.

"What about your other friends? Can't you go bother them?"

Jungkook frowned, sticking out his lower lip. The tiny mole underneath winked at you. "You hate me now or something?"

You laughed, standing up with a stacked pile of confessions to Jeon Jungkook. "No, I'm just curious as to why you always come here."

He shoved the rest in your arms, his pile slightly messier than yours. "You live the closest and you're usually home. Plus, you have two computers."

"A laptop and a desktop," you corrected. "Don't you have a laptop?"

"It's easier to borrow yours."

"Lazy."

Jungkook ignored your remark and ticked his silvery-blond head further into the apartment. "Can I borrow it or not?"

You laughed. "Of course. Laptop's on the bed."

He turned and followed the hallway to your bedroom. "Same password?" he yelled, not looking back.

"Obviously."

"Why is it my birth date?" he shouted.

"Because, one, no one will guess it, and, two, you're a dumbass and always forget it."

"I do not!"

"How many times did you ask when the password was Klingon?"

"I don't know your nerdy shit!"

"Do your fucking assignment," you belted down the hall.

Jungkook stuck his head out of your bedroom door and scrunched his nose to make a hideous face at you, holding your gunmetal-colored laptop. You rolled your eyes as he disappeared again. This crackhead. You let out a sigh, walking past the acrylic painting of a blue sky with pink-purple clouds hanging in your living room, flicking through at all the letters addressed to Jungkook.

Surprisingly, you knew what he felt like. With you, it started with inviting one guy over to your place, sucking his dick, and then suddenly a letter appeared. Well, letter was putting it nicely. Dirty napkin with words scrawled with smeared ballpoint pen shoved under your door, explicitly asking for more. Then another, wanting it. Then another, begging for it. You ignored them. At some point, you invited a girl over, ate her out, and then the colorful envelopes started appearing, with cute stickers and neat handwriting.

Mmmhmm.

Why did Jungkook bring them here anyway? To brag? For you to peruse? You spread them out them on your coffee table and tore one open. Read it. Simple confession of love, no name. You were kind of jealous. Jungkook always got nicer ones than you did. Something about being a sexually uninhibited woman seemed to translate to others that you were down to fuck anyone, anytime, anything. You tossed the letter aside, ripped open a folded card closed with lilac tape. Another, 'I love you, please go out with me', no name. Toss. And you opened another one, reading out loud.

"I want to cram all one hundred and seventy-nine centimeters of you into me?”

Uh.

Huh.

Still no name.

Cute peach stationery though.

Was it a euphemism? Symbolic? Thinly veiled code? Hm. In any case, this was more along the lines of shamelessness you encountered yourself.

By all conventions, Jeon Jungkook was attractive as fuck. Pretty pink lips, big brown eyes, manly sharp jawline. He kept his hair on the longer side, around ear length, now silvery-blond compared to the usual black. You heard he dyed it a couple times, but now it had since faded to the original blond.

Oh, yeah, also he had nice hands and a body to die for.

You could see why Jungkook got all these love letters. You? Well, similar reasons, except less muscles. Also, yours weren't really love letters. More like vulgar remarks on the backs of grubby receipts.

Probably just as heartfelt.

The only reason you knew of Jungkook was because you were friends with one of his close friends. Alright, maybe you sucked his friend's dick. More than once. But anyway, not the point. The point was that the topic of love letters came up one night when everyone was hanging out and you voiced your predicament. It was the summer before Jungkook entered university. He had burst out laughing, thinking it was a hilarious situation.

"Haha, that would never happen to me!"

Jokes on you, Jungkook, karma's a bitch.

You thought about moving, but the location was close to your work and the internet service was great here. At least you always recycled the paper. What were you supposed to do? Keep an album of Starbucks napkins of people asking if your tongue was good or not?

You opened another envelope addressed to 'sweet, adorable Jungkookie'.

Their words, not yours.

"Shove your dick down my throat and make me gag? Smiley face?"

Well, that's a contrast.

Jungkook didn't start contacting you on his own until the letters started coming and then they didn’t stop coming, flooding his mailbox and underneath his door, overwhelming and confusing him. He didn't think he would get much attention, although perhaps it might be your fault, since you seemed to have set the precedence for this type of thing at this particular university. There was at least one person in every year that got this treatment, and it all started with one dirty napkin with smeared ink. Rumor caught on and then bam! It became a thing.

So, yeah.

Maybe kind of your fault.

You shouldn't have told so many people about that napkin.

You fished out a pizza receipt from the pile, inspecting it. You couldn't find anything out of the ordinary. Then you noticed it had Jungkook's phone number and an order of three pizzas. Not a confession, just trash from Jungkook's backpack. Did he really eat three pizzas? Hopefully not by himself and in one sitting. You noticed the timestamp. Mmm, three in the morning. Okay. Maybe he did eat three pizzas by himself in one sitting.

You filed through the rest, removing trash from the recyclable paper. Paused when you found a scrap of paper that said, "Put your dick in my ass." You recognized this curvy, narrow handwriting, slightly heavy-handed. Same person wrote you the same note this week.

This was why you didn't take the messages too seriously.

You saw a particularly thick purple envelope and picked it up, tearing it open. It was several pages, with tiny, crammed handwriting on paper with cute bunnies on it. Several pages detailing straight up porn with Jungkook as the leading role.

You almost burst out laughing.

Who the fuck would write this?

And send it to him?

Not you, that's for fucking sure.

Still, it wasn't the worst thing you've ever read. Had some spelling mistakes and poor grammar. Instant turn-off. Needed a good proofread. You settled onto your brown leather couch, highly entertained as you read it. Then you actually burst out laughing, because said person wanted Jungkook to lift them and fuck them at the same time and that kinda shit just wasn't possible. You would know, because you’ve tried. It sounded good, but in practice, the dick ended up falling out pretty quickly if the pussy was any sort of wet.

If you weren’t wet, then, eh, not sure why you're fucking.

"What is so fucking funny?" Jungkook grumbled, poking his head around the corner, still holding your laptop.

You held up the sheets of bunny-printed paper, still laughing. "Someone sent you their written erotica and you're the star!"

Jungkook grimaced. "Oh yeah, that person. They write something new every week. It's weird." He frowned. "I try to take it out so you don't have to read that shit. I must have missed it."

"It's hilarious," you chuckled. "You should publish them into a book."

"You know I can't do that," Jungkook sighed, putting your laptop on the coffee table and snatching the pages from you. "I throw them away like everything else."

"Did you finish your assignment?" you chortled, leaning over to look at the laptop screen. Submission successful. "80%?! When you could easily cheat?"

"I read a question wrong," Jungkook whined, balling up the paper and throwing it down. "Ack."

You looked up at him and he was looking upset at the pile on the table.

"What's wrong?"

"What if one of them is real?"

"Huh?"

"I mean... I just throw them away now. But what if one of them is real?" Jungkook wondered out loud.

You shrugged. "Does it matter? They'll tell you in person if it's that important."

Jungkook tilted his head at you doubtfully. "Will they?"

You sat back into your couch, with your legs wide open. You were wearing sleek black leggings and a cropped pink sweatshirt. Not the most ladylike pose, but you didn't really care. You gestured to the stack of letters on your wooden coffee table.

"They should. If they actually like you and it's not a joke, then they should tell you in person and accept that they might be rejected."

Jungkook frowned and slumped down next to you. His light-wash denim jacket made a loud floof as his ass hit the brown leather cushions. The wash of his jeans matched his jacket. He wore a white graphic t-shirt under. It looked vintage, but it probably wasn’t.

"What if they're nervous?" he questioned, twisting his pink lips around.

"So what? Everyone's nervous. We all live in a perpetual state of terror."

Jungkook rolled his eyes.

You leaned forward and plucked a sky-blue memo note from the table, reading it out loud. "I love you. Marry me." You held it out to him. "See? You get nice ones. I get, ‘choke me like you hate me’ and 'shove your tongue into my asshole, please'. Rarely do I get is that please at the end," you finished with a dry laugh. You looked up to see Jungkook staring back at you. Your laugh died a little seeing his serious expression.

"Yes."

You blinked at him. "What?"

Jungkook ticked his chin to the note, then shifted his eyes to you.

You pointed to the memo sheet and raised an eyebrow. "I didn't write this."

"I did."

He was so serious that you couldn't laugh. You just blinked at him rapidly and turned your head to look at the sky-blue memo sheet, finally recognizing the clean, block-like handwriting and spotting the bottom right corner. English letters. A J and a K fused together, the way Jungkook usually signed his paintings.

You dropped the note like it was on fire.

Jerked your head up, not to him, but to the painting across from you in the living room, the one with the blue sky and pink-purple clouds, with a tiny JK signature in black at the bottom right corner. The painting you asked Jungkook to make you a while back.

"You paint, right? I want something calm for my living room. I bought a canvas, so about this size. It's that cool?"

Jungkook had squinted his eyes, nodding. "Yeah, I could draw a pretty big dick on it."

"This is for my living room, dumbass. And I said I wanted something calm."

"A flaccid dick then."

You turned your head back to Jungkook of now, who was wringing his hands on his thighs, wiping off his palms. He noticed you watching him and puffed one cheek before letting out a big sigh.

"I was... gonna leave it on your laptop," Jungkook mumbled, flapping a hand to the sky-blue note. "But I couldn't find it in my backpack, and then I realized one of the pockets was open, the one where I keep receipts... anyway I had put the note there, so I came out to see if it was in the pile... yup, there it is."

He sucked in his cheek and fell back against the leather sofa.

"Was a joke."

Jungkook's voice sounded hollow. Empty.

"... Ah." You tucked the tip of your tongue in your cheek.

"Not the greatest joke," he added flatly.

“No, it’s not,” you agreed. "Jokes that are insincere are bad jokes."

The black words glared back up at you, contrasting the pale azure paper. You picked up the memo sheet again. Turned to face him, holding it up next to Jungkook's head of silvery-blond hair. He pursed his lips and looked away from you, jaw clenched in nervousness.

"Just say it."

He puffed one cheek again. "It was a joke."

"Then why are you saying it in past tense?"

His brown orbs shifted from side to side before Jungkook tried to bolt out of his seat, only for you to slam a hand down on his shoulder and throw a leg over him, straddling his lap before pinning the note to his chest. He yelped sharply and looked up at you with huge, shaking irises.

In all your time knowing him, you never tried to sleep with Jungkook.

Never.

You jabbed the note into his white shirt and he gave you a terrified squeak in response.

You scrutinized his face, jaw slack, eyes wide, blond curls framing his chiseled cheekbones. One of your eyebrows raised, your voice calm and unfazed.

"Say it."

"You say it," Jungkook finally shot back, furrowing his brows, biting on his lip and mustering up the most indignant look he could produce at this very second. You didn’t react. He seemed to have forgotten you did, in fact, say it, although perhaps that wasn’t exactly what he meant.

You never tried to fuck Jungkook because he didn’t treat you as anything more than his primary source of internet when his own was down. Ah, and also his outlet for complaining about his love letter problem. And then there was that other little wrinkle, the unwritten societal rule one of sucking a guy's dick you're still friends with - don't suck his friends' dicks. Surefire way to fuck up a friendship, especially if the dude’s ego was fragile.

Jungkook’s friend was dating someone else now though. His ego couldn’t be that fragile.

You leaned forward and Jungkook's annoyed gaze faltered. He gulped and tried to shrink into your brown leather couch, as if he could somehow disappear under you.

"I love you," you stated clearly and firmly. You glanced at the slightly crumpled piece of blue paper before your eyes flickered back to his face. "Marry me."

Hah, the thing about rules with you was...

Fuck 'em.

Not actually.

Eh, not the point.

"Really?" Jungkook squeaked, voice cracking slightly.

Ah, right, the other reason you never tried to sex up Jungkook because he was a little bit of an idiot around you. But maybe this sky-blue note detailed the reason for it.

"Say it," you repeated crossly, poking him in the pecs. "Stop avoiding it."

You observed Jungkook swallow hard again, Adam’s apple bobbing. You furrowed your brows, tipping your head down so that your forehead was hovering over his, eyebrow cocked, gazing into trembling brown orbs. Why was he taking so long? He wrote the damn words. Were they really just a joke? Hmph, why were you even trying then?

That’s how everyone was.

Not putting any stock or thought into their fucking words.

You lifted your finger but Jungkook’s right hand, the one with tiny tattoos, suddenly darted in your view, grabbing your hand back and jamming your finger onto his chest again. His heartbeat raced under your fingertip, thud-thud-thud, rapid bass accenting the moment. Electrifying it.

“Don’t.”

Whisper so faint you frowned and closed even more distance between you two, picking up the scent of vanilla fabric softener and lush cotton. A little different than you, who used a blackberry and spiced vanilla perfume.

“I like this,” Jungkook breathed under you, chewing his lip anxiously. You could feel his warm breath tickling your lips and chin with how close you were. You could count his individual eyebrow hairs, even though the eyebrow product he used.

“I… really like this.”

He let go of your hand.

Now you raised both eyebrows.

You slowly uncurled your middle finger, landing it on his chest next to the index. You felt him shiver a little, lips parting. Straightened your ring finger, planting it down. His lashes lowered a little, brown orbs on your face, watching your reaction to him. You could count the moles on his face. The one on his nose. The one on his cheek. The one under his lower lip. The one on his neck. Your pinky slid onto his chest. A wispy moan left his lips, eyelids fluttering, blond strands floating around his head with the little rise and fall of his heavy, tense exhale.

Why is it your birth date?

Take a wild guess, dumbass.

Your fingers abruptly dug into his white t-shirt, crumpling the note and scrunching the graphic up in your fist. He inhaled sharply, head tipping back and lips nearing yours, a whine escaping his throat. You quirked an eyebrow, drawing back slightly, taking in the rich depth of his tan skin, the sensual line of his neck, up to his angular chin and his dangling silver earrings. All of it. His hands immediately came up to grab your wrist and forearm, ensuring you and himself that you wouldn’t let go, the tendons in your flexed wrist right against his large palm.

“Say it, Jungkook,” you demanded. “Say those words with your pretty pink tongue hanging out your mouth for me.”

You watched him obey immediately, tongue sliding out and touching his lower lip, brown eyes framed by his long lashes and hazy with lust.

“I love you,” Jungkook breathed, a little gargled with his tongue out. “Fucking marry me, please.”

Ah, you couldn't help it.

You smirked.

"What about all your admirers?" you murmured, twisting your fingers in his shirt, digging your nails into his chest. "You'll break all those poor hearts you’re worried about."

Those dark brown eyes told you they didn't give a single fuck.

"What about you?" he countered, closing his mouth a little to speak more clearly.

"Me?"

The definition of trouble?

Well, if you looked that up in a dictionary, there would definitely be a picture of you.

Jungkook’s lips parted once more, keen to submit to your wickedness, pink tongue slipping out again, shiny and glistening with saliva. Breathing shallowly, rubbing your wrist with his thumb, encouraging you to keep going.

Your lips curved into a treacherous smile.

"I'll break all the hearts to get to yours, Jungkook."

And then you licked his tongue.

A low moan bubbled from Jungkook's chest, his eyes rolling back and his hips bucking up, desperate for friction as the tip of your wet muscle glided over his warm softness, your spit dripping down his throat, listening to his moans turn into messy garbles of your name, begging you, pleading you, more, more, kiss me, please, and you hooked your tongue around his, gently nudging his jaw with your other hand. Knuckle to chin, tilting your head as your lips closed onto Jungkook's.

It was not a neat kiss.

There was spit running down his chin, dripping onto his neck and your skin, your lips roughly working his, tongues intertwined and making even more of a mess, you sucking forcefully to earn pained, delicious whines. Jungkook was far too turned on to attempt to glamorize it, cries a jumbled mess under your greedy mouth, but none of that mattered. The moment was sensual and dark, bodies speaking to each other through dopamine and adrenaline. Your hand released his shirt, breaking his grip, switching to burrowing your fingers into his soft blond hair and running your nails over his scalp, leaving lines of prickling pain to enhance your kiss.

"F-Fuck, oh fuck, yes..."

Your teeth caught his tongue, pulling back and forcing his head to follow. Jungkook made a pained noise, trapped in your embrace, whining as you took him to the brink. You released him swiftly and he snapped backward, blinking hard, trying to reorient himself, but it was impossible, your lips crashing down again, thrusting your tongue into his mouth aggressively, one eye open to witness his fucked-out state, pupils unfocused, long lashes quivering, moaning into your mouth and you inhaling it all, literally taking his breath away.

It started out with a kiss.

How did it end up like this?

It was only a kiss.

You dropped your lower half onto his crotch and Jungkook gasped, breaking the kiss, strings of spit breaking between you two. You smirked wickedly as you felt his hardness trying to escape its clothing jail, his large hands already on your thighs and hips, sinking his fingers into the soft fabric of your leggings, rocking you into him, desperately trying to get some stimulation.

"Please," he croaked, panting for breath, pulling himself up to sitting position, so easy and smooth, fuck, so sexy, and now Jungkook was in your face, pleas on the tip of his tongue pouring out, tempting you, wanting it.

"Please, wanna be yours so fucking bad, seeing all those fucking letters and notes you get, and it pisses me off, it's me, I want it to be me, I want to be yours and I'm telling you to your face."

Whisper achingly hot, deep voice soaked with longing, staring into your eyes with those shaking brown orbs, spinning with emotion like an unstable top, barely enough torque holding it in place and all it took was another spin to encourage it or a gust of rejection to topple it over.

"And you don't even care about mine, you think they're fucking funny, fuck, I can't stand it, let it be me, please..."

His hands running up your sides, grazing against your breasts, and now his hands were in your hair and yours were in his, bringing your face close, the crumpled sky-blue note right between your joined crotches, forgotten, witnessing the agonizing lust wound tightly in this embrace.

"Let it be me," Jungkook begged.

You licked your lips slowly, scarcely swiping against his. He shuddered, leaning into it, taking whatever crumbs you gave. His long fingers tensed in your hair, yours buried in the dark roots of his.

"You'll have to skip the marriage bit for now," you teased lightly. "I don't think my parents will appreciate you slapping down papers before you finish school."

Jungkook snickered, tucking his tongue in his cheek roguishly. "Can't they understand I have to snatch this ass as soon as possible to make people back off?"

Your hands slipped down to his jaw, fitting it in your palms, his silvery-blond stands wrapped around your fingertips. "They'll back off my door once they hear you screaming my name."

You leaned in, but Jungkook stopped you, brown orbs glittering with mischief to get in one more quip.

"I doubt it," he purred.

Yeah.

Jungkook was right.

Ah, well.

You seized his face and kissed him again, fuck, such malleable lips just pleading to be bitten by you, gazing up his nose and to his beautiful eyes, his soft skin in your hands, clenching his jaw under your power, letting you have it, letting you control it and him. You felt him scramble and throw his denim jacket off, dumping it onto your couch to cup your cheeks with his hands, sighing in satisfaction as you inhaled him. Your tongue lazily traced the outskirts of his lips, hearing the rattle of his beaded bracelets by your ears, amused, knowing they were his good luck charms.

"They bring good luck," he had answered when you saw them for the first time.

You remembered tilting your head at the wooden beads on his slim wrists. "You trying to get your dick sucked or something?"

He had broken out in a loud guffaw. Nudged you with his elbow, cheeky smile on his lips.

"Never gonna say no to getting my dick sucked."

"Mhm, cool, where's my painting of the flaccid dick?"

From then on, you noticed he wore the same wooden, beaded bracelets every time he came to your apartment.

Hmm.

Now, your hands falling from his face, yanking his shirt from his pants, annoyed it was getting caught, and then Jungkook fitted his hands around your ass and lifted you easily, breaking the kiss, a moment for you to bear witness to his arms flexing – holy fuck, that’s sexy – right one covered in tattoos. Images and script, with one catching your eye, a string of words running up the inside of his upper arm. One you recognized because you had those words written on your bedroom wall, on a canvas hanging above your bed. A canvas you made, background a chaotic mess of varying dark red brushstrokes, the black script in the center, written by your hand.

The exact black script with your flourishes and ticks, now tattooed on the inside of his right arm.

Your eyes drifted to Jungkook's face and his naughty smirk, pleased to be found out. Your lips formed the sentence slowly, in awe of his audacity.

"The devil knows my name."

the devil knows my name.

Hung above your bed, where all manner of marvelous sinful acts were performed.

Jungkook grinned deviously. "I saw it. I wanted it on me."

Wanted it on him.

Oh, fuck.

Did he know? Could he guess?

"Who's the devil?" you whispered, smile widening, matching his.

Jungkook reached down, yanking his t-shirt out of his jeans and pulling it up and over his head, revealing the body he sculpted himself, tan skin taut over hard muscle, toned and...

"You're the devil, of course," he snickered.

Yours.

"Ding dong daeng," you sing-songed.

How many people have been on your bed, head pulled back by your hand, blinking hard, trying to read the words on your wall through waves of forced ecstasy? Gasping them out, ending with a question, inquiring for an answer.

The devil knows my name?

And you, leaning forward, haunting whisper in their ears, yes, she does, before pushing their face down into the sheets.

"All those love letters not good enough for you, Jungkook?" you breathed, running your hands over his bare chest, spreading your fingers, letting your exhale out through your teeth. His eyes on you, torso trembling, hairs raising, feeling your nails dance up, up, raking over his collarbones and neck, leaving little pink lines of intensity.

"They're not you," he whispered. His hands brushing over yours, outlining your fingers, eyes darkening as you pushed him back into your sofa, lowering your head. "You, the one they talk about..." Your lips on his hot skin, kissing softly, tongue so slight that it made him whimper. "You, the one they look for..." His voice, deep and rumbling, vibrating your lips, pitching as you bit and sucked, leaving small hickeys. "You, the one whose bed I sit on, wondering who else has been there, wondering why it's not me, when I make myself available to you, so easy to prey on, but you let me be..." Your lips closing around his dark brown nipple, scraping your teeth against it, making him squirm and look down at you, you and your self-satisfied, ravenous smirk.

"I let you read them," Jungkook whimpered, blond strands curled around his cheeks, chest shuddering at your nail flicking his other nipple while your mouth worked the other. "Let you see everything they want to do to me and you still didn't know."

You chuckled darkly. "What's there to know?" you mused, sticking your tongue out and pressing it against the now hard pink-tinged nub, receiving small whines of pleasure as your reward. "It's obvious what you wanted. I was right in front of you. All you had to do was say something."

Jungkook frowned as you sat up, tongue in cheek, half-grinning.

"Look at you."

You crossed your arms and pulled your pink cropped sweatshirt up and over your head, dropping it to the floor. Casually running a hand through the top of your hair to pull it away from your face, gazing down at shirtless Jungkook covered in your red bites, cocking your head with a smirk. He raised an eyebrow, eyes roaming over your figure and the curve of your breasts molded to smooth black satin.

"You look like you eat hearts for breakfast," he murmured, admiration in his tone.

The side of your lips quirked further upwards.

"And yet you wanna love me."

Jungkook grinned. "I don't want to. I already do."

And then he was the one to pull you to him, kissing you hungrily, you immediately turning it into your favor, your pace, his tongue commanded by yours as he unhooked your bra, moaning into your mouth, rubbing your exposed nipples with his palms, unable to do much as you pushed him into the couch again, guiding his tongue down with your teeth and running the tip of yours over his wet muscle once more, trickling saliva into his throat and onto his chin and neck, messy and lewd.

"The devil knows your name," you sighed into his mouth, feeling him knead your breasts, thumbs brushing over your hard nipples, tendrils of pleasure making your skin tingle. "And now the devil takes what she wants."

You saw the sides of his lips curve upwards as you backed up to strip the rest of your clothes, amused at Jungkook eagerly following suit and unbuttoning his jeans.

"Can't wait to flaunt how hot you are?" you laughed, reaching down to the shelf under the side table where a ceramic R2-D2 cookie jar sat.

"Do you think I'm hot?" Jungkook haughtily accused before gawking at your waist to ass ratio, his hands slowing, pants stopped to his knees in his distraction.

You gently took off the head of R2-D2 and plucked a condom from it. Some guy told you once that you couldn't like Star Trek and Star Wars at the same time and you told him to shut the fuck up as you slapped his nuts. He begged you to do it again. You fondly patted R2-D2's head after you fitted it back.

You straightened to see Jungkook on your couch with his hard dick on display.

You looked him dead in the eye. "You think I'd let you borrow my laptop if I thought you were ugly?"

Jungkook broke out of his trance and shrugged, finally yanking his calves – holy shit, his calves and thighs were muscular as fuck – out of his jeans, underwear and socks gone with them.

"Maybe you pitied my grades."

"I'd just pay for you to go to the library and fuck off, dumbass," you muttered, pushing his hands aside and ripping the condom open, drinking in the delicious sight of his throbbing red cock dripping pre-cum, his balls just waiting for – fuck it, you got down on your knees and wrapped your tongue around his length, Jungkook sputtering and gasping at your suddenness. Fuck, he smelled and tasted fucking good, clean and velvety to your lips enclosing around the head and sliding down, using one hand to scoop up his balls. Made eye contact with him again.

Jungkook breathed your name hesitantly.

Your tongue slid out of your lips and you jammed his cock all the way down your throat, slathering his balls wetly with your whisking tongue, circling around one and then the other, long expansive strokes that went past the girth of his cock, your pink tongue visible to him. Jungkook's pupils blew wide with shock, moans catching in his throat, whole body shivering, trying desperately not to look away even through you could tell he wanted to throw himself into your sofa and fucking lose it.

"Oooooooh, fuck, that's amazing.... Holy shit, your tongue is everything...."

You chuckled and pulled your head back, satisfied with his reaction. He seemed slightly disappointed until you rolled down the condom, cracking your neck.

"I think I've given enough." You stood up, getting back on top of him and his glorious thighs. "Time for you to be taken."

Jungkook smirked.

You smirked wider and more wickedly.

The sky-blue memo was crumpled into a ball, fallen to your hardwood floor.

Held him with two fingers, ugh, the weight of his cock, fuck yes, and those beautiful dark chocolate eyes, Jungkook, you dumbass, cursing that he didn't tell you sooner so that you could watch him groan and throw his head back like he was right now, gasping at your tightness, your name torn from his throat as you took in every centimeter of him, every pulsing vein and contour of his wonderful cock, stupid Jungkook and his attractive self not using his damn words so you could ride him like you were right now, setting up a fast, bruising pace. Your fingers dug into the back of the couch as you bucked your hips into his violently, keeping yourself tight because you were so fucking wet, fuck, so wet for Jeon Jungkook and his idiotic self, asking for internet to do his school assignments and not asking for his dick to be used as your fucking joystick.

Dumbass.

"Oh fuck," Jungkook gasped. "Oh, fuck, you're so wet and tight, shit, shit, shit..."

"Tell me something I haven't heard before," you chuckled, only half-meaning it, waving your entire body to deliver a particularly hard smack to his crotch, Jungkook whimpering under you, his hands flying to your upper arms and clutching them, trying to hold on to your wildness.

"Holy fuck, you have some hard biceps," he blurted out, startled at the prominent muscle.

Well, you haven't heard that one before.

"Guess that's what happens when you jack off a lot of dick," you mused nonchalantly.

You ticked your head to Jungkook's arms – delicious – and he frowned at you, opening his mouth to protest and you cut him off by shoving two fingers into his lips, pressing them down into the wet warmth, grinning maniacally as you watched him struggle with your fingers rubbing his tongue and his cock getting assaulted by you aggressively slamming your hips down and clamping around his stiffness, tighter, faster, whines of your name in his throat, head falling back onto the couch with a flump. You were careful not to push your fingers too far.

Getting vomited on wasn't really on your sexual activities bingo card.

Jungkook was, however, drooling down his chin and neck, and you pulled back to grab his shoulder with your wet hand – oh, fuck, his shoulder, what a lovely shape – and Jungkook wheezed for breath, you ignoring it as you focused all your energy on fucking the life out of him, dirty squelches and smacks of hips on hips, staring down at his abs and v-line, all his hard work at the gym on display, his hands still on your upper arms as he raised his hips to meet yours, needily moaning for you to destroy him with your pace.

Damn, maybe you would have sent him a love letter if you had seen him naked at least once.

"A-Ask me to cum for you," Jungkook finally got out, voice hoarse from breathing so hard for so long.

"You're going to anyway," you taunted.

"Want you to ask," he whined, almost pouting. "Tell me to do it."

You gazed into his eyes, into those brown irises overtaken by black pupils, him a top spinning by your hand, your plaything commanded by your body, pussy clenching around his twitching cock, spurred on from his pleading tone, giving him a devious and wicked grin, speaking to his swollen lips, the devil knows your name, Jungkook, and him moaning back, fuck yes she does, so close, so fucking close, unashamedly barreling towards your release, power in your veins and under you, his muscles rippling as he fucked you back, amplifying every thrust.

"Jungkook."

"Y-Yes?"

"Say it."

Brown eyes locked with yours.

"I love you. Marry me."

You smirked.

"Cum for me."

A half-second and then you let go, letting the feeling rush in and envelop you, the moment held back to torture him, and now you felt it all, already at the tipping point, strained moan as your orgasm crashed into you, shudders all over and falling, sitting all the way down in his lap to experience the throbbing ache of your core giving out and spilling onto his cock and balls in rapid bursts, viscous and sweet. The scent of sex mixing with blackberry and spiced vanilla, his length jerking inside you, and only then did you hear Jungkook crying out your name over and over, the roar in your ears fading out to his shivering moans, hands sliding up and down your arms, eyes closing and lost in the pleasure of your pussy squeezing out his cum. His touch travelling down to your waist, pulling you to him.

Messy, soft kisses, your name and curses mixed together.

"It's me, right?"

You smiled into his mouth that was still asking questions.

"Please let it be me. You'll let me love you for real, right?"

Pushing your hair back, his sweaty blond locks sticking to your face.

"Because I already do, can't stop, won't stop–"

"Yeah, Jungkook, funnily enough I figured that from the first kiss already," you chuckled, running your fingers through his ash blond hair and pulling his head back lightly, seeing him pout, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out.

"But..."

"Hm?"

His voice suddenly small, vulnerable, his semi-hard dick still inside you.

"Do you love me?"

You lifted a brow. "What kind of dumbass question is that?" You grabbed his arm and pressed your nail into his tattoo of your words, drawing a pink scratch under them, making him gasp. "How can I not love you? Fuck, that's the sexiest thing I've ever seen, my handwriting tattooed onto you. Yes, I love you, Jungkook."

Jungkook's jaw dropped.

This fool is still shocked after all this?

You reached down and held the condom down as you lifted yourself off, yanking him to his feet, pushing Jungkook to your coffee table, right in front of the pile of letters with his name all over them. You picked up your laptop and pushed it onto his chest, forcing him to hold it, him still confused, mildly stunned, not knowing what the fuck was happening.

Then you made him half-straddle your coffee table and yanked off the condom.

"Um–"

Grabbed his cock and started furiously jacking him off.

"Oh, f-fuck!"'

And then he realized what you were doing, the sheer wrongness of it, getting harder and harder with every second, throbbing in your hand.

"You're just like them," you chuckled through exerted breath.

Faster, rougher, tighter, Jungkook clutching your laptop, his larger frame leaning against yours, head thrown back so far that his blond hair was brushing your shoulder, moaning lustfully as he thrusted his hips into your grip. White pooled onto the purple-red tip of his abused cock, far too sensitive to be jacked off this hard right after orgasm, but Jungkook begged you not to stop, streams of residual cum running down your slicked fingers.

"Always looking for your fix from the addiction that's me," you whispered into his ear, laced with an authoritative growl.

You saw Jungkook's head lower out of your periphery, eyes opening, staring at the colorful envelopes with his name printed on them, the cute stickers and neat handwriting, panting your name, tendons and veins standing out on his neck, sweat beading on his tan skin.

A low, dangerous chuckle rising in his throat.

"There's a difference between them and me."

You felt his cock twitch in your hand, ridiculously hard at what you two were about to do.

"They're not going to get their fix."

Jungkook shuddered against you, jerking his hips forward, thick white strings splattering all over the pastel paper as you watched, fascinated, the scent of his cum saturating the air and the envelopes, drops soaking and smearing the carefully written ink, time wasted and defiled.

"I am," he moaned, twisting his body on your arms, leaning down to kiss you hungrily as you squeezed his cock, draining it all out, all over your coffee table and coating your hand, stained with Jeon Jungkook's love letter to you.

masterpost

#jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #bts smut #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you #jeon jungkook smut

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therealvinelle · 3 years

Note

in the “everyone is in love with Bella” scenario, what about the wolves? Wouldn’t it be really fucked up for Sam to fall in love with her? Would it make the wolves try to redefine imprinting? how would Leah react to the whole situation?

Anon is referring to this post. For the record, I didn't get into them in the post because the plot would veer so far off-course in Twilight that Edward never leaves and Victoria never becomes a threat to Bella, meaning Bella and Jake don't get close and she doesn't need their protection.

But, let's do this.

First encounter

Bella arrives in Forks, and Billy and Jacob are there to hand over the pickup.

Boom.

They fall in love.

Jacob, having never had a real crush before nevermind something so powerful as falling in love, is overwhelmed by these new feelings. He blushes and flushes and stutters, and fails to say anything reasonable or even intelligble to Bella. Too mortified to function, he decides to hide in La Push until the embarrassment fades. Which very well could be never.

Billy, meanwhile, is unable to cope. He just fell in love with Charlie's daughter. Charlie's 17-year-old daughter who used to make mud cakes with Billy's daughters.

This is bad.

This, to a good man like Billy, is unforgivably bad.

He goes from being Charlie's best friend to suddenly being very distant, not wanting to ever cross paths with Bella again.

But, you asked about the wolves, not just Jake and Billy, so let's take this scenario further.

Bella's friends, all of whom are hopelessly in love with her, drag her to La Push

Jessica, Lauren, Mike, Angela, Tyler, Eric, Ben, the whole gang, they're all going to La Push for the weekend.

And it just won't be the same without Bella. She's just so great, you know?

Everyone looks at each other and nods. Yeah, it's just not fun without Bella. Bella's great, someone should invite her.

They all invite her, one by one, all of them with wide, adoring eyes. "It would be so amazing if you came, Bella," Jessica says dreamily, twirling a lock of Bella's hair around her fingers. "Your hair is really pretty," she giggles.

Angela and Ben are each blushing too hard to really say anything to Bella, so they end up running away from her. Bella is left feeling like some kind of freak. She later receives two notes in class, one from each, begging her in cramped writing to come to La Push. Yeah, not helping her feel like less of a freak.

Mike, Eric, Tyler, and Lauren all corner her, each worse than the last.

By the end of the schoolday Bella doesn't know what's going to happen at La Push but she does know that she doesn't want to go.

She complains about this to the Cullens (remember, her and Edward became an item much earlier in this timeline), and they all fawn and coo over her and act like she just went through a warzone. If she wants to go to the beach, she could try Isle Esme Bella. Would she like that, an island vacation? Or an island?

Bella is pulled out of school for a romantic two-week totally-not-a-honeymoon.

La Push never happens.

But surely Bella and the wolves must meet at some point

Billy catches wind that Bella Swan is dating Edward Cullen. As in, the girl he has fallen so deeply in love with is now being preyed upon by a blood-sucking demon.

Billy's own sense of propriety or honor be damned, he has to save this girl's life.

He tries to speak to her, just as in canon, but just as in canon this goes poorly. Bella is a savvy 17-year-old who doesn't need no warning, and besides, the Cullens are all so sweet. They're like hobbits, really, obviously she's not in any danger. She tells Billy as much. Vampires are lovely, does he know they gave her an island?

(Billy did not know this, and yes, that's weird. Doesn't mean they're not evil, though.)

Billy gets nowhere with his would-be intervention.

Time to bring in the big guns.

Sam phases around this time, and imprints on Emily. Break-ups with Leah, maulings, and tragic lovestories all around are had.

It is around this time that Billy brings Sam up to speed on the Bella situation, although leaving out the part where he's hopelessly in love with the girl because that would not be received well. Could Sam go speak with her about this, see if maybe she will take his warning seriously? The situation is dire.

Sure, Sam can do that. No one wants a human girl to get eaten or turned, after all.

Sam goes to see Bella.

And promptly falls in love just as he did Emily.

Emily, who is currently in the hospital from Sam mauling her, which happened specifically because Sam had imprinted.

It's official, Sam thinks, he's the greatest scumbag there ever was.

The Emily and Leah situation was awful enough as it was, breaking all three of their hearts and causing irreparable damage both physically and mentally. Sam wronged them both colossaly, and he can never amend that.

But he imprinted. He wasn't just being a douchebag, actual magic made him do it.

Now, though...

Either Sam imprinted on multiple people, in which case his happy ending is now polygamy. And how would that be a happy ending for Emily and Bella?

Or, possibly even more terrifying yet, he didn't imprint on either woman.

Breaking up with Leah, mauling Emily, making Emily fall in love with him after that and ruining her relationship with her cousin, in short putting these women through hell, all of it- it was for nothing. Sam's just a horndog who sees supernatural intervention where there's really just hormones.

Why couldn't he just have imprinted on Leah?

Sam can't go on a sabbatical to figure this out, his tribe needs him. So he takes to living in the woods alone, where he is alone, to try and figure this out.

But it gets more painful yet, because he can't just disappear on Emily.

So, he tells her. He owes her that much. And it's not goodbye forever, either, just- goodbye until he can figure out how to be the man she deserves. A man anybody deserves, really, because right now Sam's not it.

Emily has no idea what to make of any of this, but she knows her heart is broken.

She has to see this woman all of this is about.

Naturally, she falls in love as well.

The plot thickens

The next time Sam drops by, Emily gives him the news. They're both in love with Bella now.

Sam no longer knows what to make of anything.

Is the universe trying to tell them to form a polycule?

Nothing like that has ever happened before, but not much is known about imprinting. There's a first time for everything..?

At this point they're both giving themselves headaches trying to figure this out. It's a mess.

More, Bella hasn't even met either of them. Sam and Emily can't just walk up to her and say "Hi, be our wife".

Or can they?

If Emily fell in love at first sight, maybe it'll work in reverse. Maybe Bella just has to look upon them, and she'll fall in love.

Sam is dubious, but at this point let's just do this. Let's just do this, see what happens.

They walk up to Charlie's to deliver some of Harry's fish fry. Bella opens the door.

"HIIIII" Emily says, trying to act normal.

Sam's not saying anything.

"Hi," Bella says back, nonplussed, and looks at the bag Emily is clutching with white-knuckled fists.

All three of them are silent.

Bella is starting to wonder if there's something with the town water supply. She is also wondering if these people are planning to say anything, or if they just really enjoy knocking on doors and saying hi to people. Is there something Bella should be doing?

Eventually she clears er throat and asks if there's anything she can do for them.

Sam and Emily glance at each other. Bella's not looking starstruck with love, but she's not acting normal either. Who stands in a doorway and stares at people for almost a minute before talking?

It's inconclusive.

Emily hands over the fish fry. "From Harry," she says, and introduces herself.

Bella nods, remembering Charlie's friend who all but ran out of the door when he saw her and hasn't been fishing with Charlie since. None of Charlie's friends have. Charlie is going nuts. Maybe she should try hooking him up with Carlisle, vampires are lovely, they'd get along so well.

Bella, noting Emily and Sam aren't saying anything else, says bye and moves to close the door.

"Wait!" Sam yells, at the same time as Emily rips a piece of paper from her pocket, and sticks it into Bella's hand.

Bella looks down on it. It's two phone numbers.

She looks back up at Sam and Emily, who by now feel quite certain that this girl hasn't fallen in love with them and that this is the most humiliating moment of both their lives.

Just in case, though...

"Call us," Emily says flirtatiously, winks, and runs away.

Sam follows.

Bella never calls them back, and they never speak of this again.

A few months later, Leah who’d been shopping in Forks happily tells Sam and Emily that she's fallen in love with a girl, she lives in Forks, she's amazing, her name is Bella Swan.

"I took one look at her, and I knew," Leah says dreamily.

#sam uley #leah clearwater #emily young #billy black #jacob black #bella swan #twilight #twilight meta #twilight renaissance #twilight quileutes #twilight shapeshifters

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thatpoppinat · 3 years

Text

When The World Knows (Pt 1)

pt 2

It's been a while since Marinette has had time to herself. Thankfully, this isn't due to her responsibilities as Ladybug.

In fact, Hawkmoth seemed to be losing whatever motivation he once had for terrorizing Paris, and akumas were becoming scarce. This could have also meant that he was planning something big, but if Marinette was being 100% honest with you, Hawkmoth was becoming the least of her concerns.

Was her growing fame something she should be concerned about? She couldn’t tell you.

_____________

It all started on accident, if you were to ask Marinette. She had just went to visit her uncle Jagged while he was making music for an upcoming show that was being produced. After spending some time with him, he eventually introduced her to Hugo Morris, the director of "Autodale; a noir-esque dystopian show that is ‘the next being thing’”.

Hugo had apparently aided in the release of multiple blockbuster and popular shows. Marinette had no doubt that this one would be well received by the public, just by seeing the detailed sets being created all around her.

Almost jokingly, Jagged had encouraged Marinette to audition for the lead role as Aubrey; the Exceptional Girl. After all; Marinette matched the director's description of her very well, apparently.

She was given the script, and she auditioned. She didn't expect to get the role.

And somehow - miraculously - she did. Two days after her audition, she received a callback.

Marinette, after receiving the email, promptly had a seizure. She didn't think she was that good. But apparently, the producer saw something in her.

When she came in the week after to meet the rest of the cast, Marinette could only think about how big the production was, or worry if whether or not she was gonna screw something up with her world renowned clumsiness. She was Marinette Dupain-Cheng after all.

Speaking of her being her, the thought of being on the big screen made her head spin. In the past, she always thought that if she were to ever work in a film production, she would have been on the design team. Designing clothes was her dream after all.

But she guessed the saying was true: "If you want to make God laugh, tell him your plans." She was brought back in, she met the rest of the cast, and they were given scripts to read over and have decently memorized by the end of the month.

To only add to the workload, Marinette was still a school student. She hadn't even told her classmates about this.

… Her classmates, the people who didn't even bother to question if Lila was telling the truth; who didn't even care if Marinette's feelings were hurt; the people who didn't even hesitate to isolate her and bully her 'for Lila's sake', even after all she had done for them. And Adrien, who knew what they were doing to her, but chose to keep him mouth shut.

It was safe to say, that after all they'd done, they were merely classmates. Forced acquaintances, if you will.

After a few seconds of thought, Marinette decided not to tell them. She didn't want them to ruin this for her.

She'd have to tell Principal Damocles and Mrs. Bustier, however. If this production was as big as the cast was saying it was, she'd clearly be missing a lot of class.

And, after months of working with fellow actors, memorizing scripts, helping make props, doing schoolwork online, and keeping her nosy classmates from finding out, she could safely say that was the case.

_________________

Speaking of classmates.

When she was needed for the production of "Autodale" , Marinette rarely ever saw them. Being the lead role in a long production show would mess up your schedule one way or another. When she did go into that class, it was filled with people constantly going up to her new, lonely seat in the back and asking were she had been.

Instead of answering them, she simply shrugged and told them it wasn't their business. This got on their nerves to no end. At one point, Lila was spreading rumors and lies about how she saw Marinette hanging out with some older men (Marinette had to practically nail herself to the seat as she heard Lila "whisper" it to her loyal followers).

But Mrs. Bustier quickly shot that down and told the class that she knew where she "disappeared to", that it was a safe environment, and that per request of Marinette and her parents, the class wasn't allowed to know. Mrs. Bustier then scolded Lila about telling people things that could lead to trouble, with no proof anyway.

Lila then recovered by spilling crocodile tears and saying that she was only trying to help her dear friend Mari.

Well, at least Ms. Bustier wasn’t a wallflower anymore.

It was then classmates started to question Lila, not completely doubting her, though. Which made Marinette want to pull her hair out.

Marinette didn't end up doing that. After all, she had something to look forward too!

A sneak peek of Autodale was being broadcasted during an award show after school. Marinette couldn't wait! Marinette and the rest of the cast had gotten to see it early, and they were impressed with the craftsmanship.

_________

The next day, Autodale was all anyone would talk about at school.

And of course, Lila had to be apart of it.

"It took them a long time to make the animation that phenomenal. The team poured their hearts and souls into this project. Oh, Hugo is such a good director. He's really nice in real life, too! But, I think that may just be because he has a huge crush on me.

“Oh! yeah, I know the secret main actress. She's just secretive and only wants to reveal herself to the public after the episodes are released on Netflix. We're basically besties- sorry Alya! Aww! Of course Alya, I can try to get you an interview with her after the show is released. She might be busy, being the lead role in an anticipated TV and all, but I'll try my best! No problem!"

Oh the irony. She would've laughed.

But she was focused with what she said prior to claiming their supposed "friendship".

Did Lila know that Morris was a forty year old man and that she had just basically accused him of being a pedophile. That detail probably didn't matter to her. Lila probably would have said it anyway.

Marinette clenched her fists. Lila could spread all of the lies she wanted (she decided it wasn't worth it after seeing how gullible and unyielding her classmates were), but the fact that she was basically claiming how one of her father figures, with a wife whom he was deeply in love with, was a cheating, flirty pedophile made her blood boil.

It must've shown on her face. In a split second, Lila faces her, hiding a small smirk, then loudly proclaimed to her her:

"Aww! There's no need to be jealous Marinette! I might be able to get her to meet you! But, from what I've told her about you, I don't think she'll want to." Lila shook her head, as if she was pitying her. The class threw sneers her way.

Adrien winced, but, once again, did nothing, then looked away.

Marinette took a deep breath.

"No, no. That's fine," she smiled.

Then, with a stroke of luck, she was saved by the bell.

Thank the Gods for lunch period, she thought.

___________

She headed to the locker room. Once they were alone, Tikki emerged from her hiding spot.

"Are you okay?" Tikki frowned.

"Yeah, I'll be fine," Marinette insisted. "I just feel like talking to Carlos."

Carlos was one of the many actors and actresses she met on the set. Carlos played Macro, Aubrey's main love interest. He was funny, understanding, and would listen to her rants of frustration. All in all, they had a great relationship with each other.

Not a romantic one, mind you.

Carlos was gay.

She dialed his number, and he almost immediately responded. She put him on speaker.

"Hey Marshmallow!" Carlos exclaimed

"Hello, rainbow fish."

"Let me guess. Lila?" he questioned.

She sighed, "Yeah. You know me too well."

"So, what she do this time?"

"She essentially called Hugo a pedophile."

"...What?" He practically hissed.

"Yep. Said she knew the old man and claimed he had a crush on her."

"That lying two-faced fox." he sneered.

"She also said she knew the secret lead, that they were practically besties, and then straight up looked at me and proclaimed to everyone that the lead didn't like me."

“Wow. And they actually believed her?

"They always have been. And Adrien did nothing, again." Tikki handed her one of her cookies. She was missing lunch time.

"Seriously, that Agreste boy needs to grow a pair! I'm starting to think he just doesn't care."

Marinette said nothing. She could practically hear him rubbing his temples.

"*sigh* Don't worry Marinette. With the pilot episode being released next Tuesday, they'll learn the truth and regret treating you like trash. Everyone will finally know that Lila has been spewing bullshit since she arrived."

"I really hope so. I'm not sure how long I can take this."

"Girl, I'm telling you! Transfer schools! It's obvious that they're the type to suck up to influential people. Once they find out you're the secret lead, and MDC, they're gonna clam up to you so fast for clout it's not even funny."

THAT was another thing she hardly told anyone. A couple of weeks ago, she opened a commission website called MDCDesigns.

To help her out - and because they believed her clothes were to die for - , Jagged Stone and Clara Nightingale began to wear her designs more often. It wasn't long until the Style Queen herself read a review, and for the first time in a long time, she wasn't tearing a brand to shreds.

In fact, she actually seemed to like her designs.

"They have potential, I'll admit. Certainly about average. Marvelous designs. " Style Queen said in her review. "If they keep this up, they'll certainly have a spot in the industry." She turned to the cameras. "Also, if you're watching this MDC, know that if we ever meet, I'd like a cream colored faux fur scarf."

Her website practically crashed due to the insane amount of commissions she had received that night. Ever since then, people have been dying to know who this mysterious designer was. She wondered if opening the shop was a good decision: not because of her career, mind you, but her health.

Regardless, she was planning to reveal herself after the pilot episode was aired on HBO (not Netflix Lila. If your gonna lie about something, at least research it beforehand)in an interview -with proof, as many people have claimed to be MDC since then.

She sat there in thought, when she was done thinking she responded.

"That... that sounds like a good idea. Well, the Earth doesn't revolve around me! How is your trip going yo-"

Suddenly, she heard footsteps and a door being slammed closed.

She froze.

"What was that??!"

She’d had Carlos on speaker the entire time.

Someone had been watching her.

And the person must've heard everything they said.

_____________________

Hi!

So, this is my first project, and I’m not sure I wanna continue writing it. If you wanna adopt it, I don’t mind. Positive criticism is welcome! Reblog if you want idc rn.

Also, seriously, Check out the series "Autodale” created by Dead Sound on youtube. It can be a little dark, but I think most people can handle it! It’s amazing!

This is also kinda based off of the tumblr fanfic “After The Week Off”. Huge thanks to princesslenaakaladykittuna for the link.

____________________

Anyways, have a nice day!

#lila salt #au #MDC #miraculous #class salt #ml #mlb #ml au #WTWK

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neonacity · 3 years

Text

HYACINTHE | CHAPTER 3: JAEMIN X READER

SUMMARY:

Na Jaemin is far from being your typical 20 year old. Instead of slaving through college, he wastes away his hours cracking safes. Weekends that should be spent partying with friends consist of illegal races on good days and small scale bombings on bad ones. Na Jaemin is far from being average, unless you consider being a member of Seoul’s top organized crime family normal.

There is no such thing as a sense of normality and peace in his trainwreck of a life, so when he met a barista who was brave enough to call out his dangerous taste in coffee, he was like a moth to the flame. Everything about her is normal, which means she is forbidden to him, in all sense of the word. So why, then, does he always find himself at the front steps of her shop, breaking all his personal rules even if he wishes he could stay away?

A/N + Disclaimer: this is a side story to Black Daisies, my main mafia fic feat. 0T23. While the plot is based on the main story, this can also be read as a standalone fic. As usual, this is purely a work of fiction and in no way am I implying any member of NCT to behave the way I write them here. tw: crimes, heists, potential death, mentions of drugs and other illegal activities.

PAIRING: Jaemin x Reader

TW: illegal activities, gunshot wound, mentions of blood

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

FIC TRAILER

MASTERLIST

"Another bank was looted last night around 11PM, this time in the Geumchon district. This is the second bank that was broken into in the past week and the fourth that is rumored to be the doing of one of Seoul's organized criminal…."

I sighed and put down the pen that I have been using to scribble on a piece of napkin. A frown creased my forehead before I grabbed the offending piece of flimsy paper and crumpled it with my hand. Jeno, who was silently watching the news, looked up and shot me a curious look. He was leaning over the counter lazily, his cup of half finished hot cocoa beside him.

"You okay?"

I winced. "Yeah... Actually. Actually, no. I am not okay," I said finally as I threw the used napkin to the closest thrash. I have been scribbling all the things I have to pay for the coming month there and couldn't bear to take another look at it. Jeno grabbed his drink and silently took a sip of it, obviously waiting for me to elaborate.

After my initial 'unplanned' meeting with Jaemin's friends, it has become more or less of their routine to drop by the cafe to hangout. Jaemin was initially against it at first, always scowling whenever he would see one of them already in the shop, though it seems like he has gotten used to it lately—or rather, he didn't have any other choice but to simply accept it. They would often sometimes come in groups—Jisung and Chenle are big fans of the pastries—but other times it's just one of them who would drop by to visit like Jeno now. My favorite is when all of them drops by to visit, not only because I've started getting closer to them too, but because customers would automatically flock into the shop whenever the "handsome gang" is there. Honestly, I couldn't blame them.

"I'm a little bit short on money this month. I was supposed to get my monthly allowance from my scholarship but something happened so it will be delayed. I have lab things to buy and well—everything sucks."

Jeno nodded slowly, though I have a feeling he doesn't really understand my plight with money. Spending time with the seven of them has given me a better understanding of each boys' personalities. Jeno, for example, is definitely the calmer one of the bunch. While the others would cause chaos every now and then—Jaemin included, he would be on the side watching them usually with that adorable eye smile of his. He is different from Mark who would mostly jump in to join the fun before calming everyone once things get overboard, though both seem to share the same responsibility over the group. He also seems to be the closest to Jaemin, so by extension, I am also most comfortable around him.

"How much money do you need?"

I gave him a look as I reached out for a paper cup to make myself my own hot cocoa.

"I heard the same question from your best friend before. Are you also going to offer to be my sugar daddy?"

Jeno choked on his drink and hid his laughter behind his raised cup.

"Do you want Jaemin to kill me?"

That made me inappropriately blush.

"Sometimes I just want to bust out a bank like that group everyone is talking about."

Jeno didn't say anything and continued watching me from the brim of his drink.

"You think you can do it?"

"Do what?" I asked as I poured hot cocoa on my cup. I said that off-handedly, I almost forgot my words the moment they left my lips.

"Rob a bank. You know, do something illegal."

I leaned back against the counter and craned my head a little sideways as I thought the question over. I didn't actually think of that before so I had to listen to my moral compass a little bit before answering.

"It depends on the reason."

Jeno looked surprised by my reply. He was probably expecting a goody two shoes answer from me, which I don’t blame him for, to be honest. Even I am mildly shocked by what I said.

"The reason?"

"Yes. I mean, if the only reason I would steal is because I don't have money to support my studies, then no, I wouldn't do it. I have other options. I can work extra jobs or I can just drop out from uni. But if I didn't really have any other choice, if I had to do it for someone really close to me, for example, then I would do it."

"That is very…"

"Cliche, right? I know. But that's how it works, at least for me," I said with a laugh. "I do know what's good and bad, but I'm willing to jump the gun if I have to."

I didn't know if it was my imagination, but I thought I heard Jeno murmur something under his breath as I turned to get back to work.

"I bet Jaemin wouldn't like that."

-----

PRESENT DAY, a little over one month after the happenings in the first chapter.

They disappeared like bubbles. No, he disappeared in thin air, like smoke that was blown over by a strong gust of wind. After that night when Jaemin bust through my cafe door, hiding god knows what and asking for temporary shelter, he hasn't shown himself again, apparently leaving while I slipped into a light sleep. Even his friends stopped visiting the cafe which, for a few days, made me genuinely feel scared. Are they okay? What happened to him? Who was he running away from?

That worry slowly and gradually morphed into anger as the days lengthened. I know it was my way of coping with my emotions, but I couldn't help myself. I tried calling him, but the line was cut. It even came to the point that I had to call each of his friends, but it seems like the numbers they gave me were all temporary ones, too. I felt frustrated. I felt...abandoned.

Was it really easy for him to just cut off all contact with me?

Was it foolish of me to think that there is...something deeper here than just friendship?

It was the start of winter when the loud ringing of my phone woke me up from my nap. Eyes still heavy with sleep, my first instinct was to look at the clock by my table which registered 1:19AM. I frowned. I was in the middle of finishing a paper before I decided to take a nap but who could be calling me at such an ungodly hour?

I blearily reached out for my phone and barely looked at the unregistered number before hitting the answer button.

"Hello?"

"Noona?"

I froze. Just like that, I felt the sleepiness slowly melt away from my consciousness. I know that voice.

"Jisung?"

"Noona, we need your help."

I sat up on my seat after registering the panic in his voice. I heard another tone suddenly hiss at him from the background before a rustling sound overtook the speakers. It sounded like someone grabbed the phone from his grasp before he could even react.

"Jisung. What's happening—"

"Hello?" The new voice that spoke on the other line made my heart stop. I stared at my wall, wide-eyed.

"Jaemin."

"I'm sorry. We didn't mean to—"

"Jaemin, we don’t really have any other choice but her, give me the phone," another one jumped in. It was Mark.

"No. Hyung—"

"We're losing him," my lips parted in shock at what I heard. His voice sounded clearer now and I could very much pick up the iciness on it. Mark has always been so friendly and warm that it threw me off guard.

"Give me the phone."

The authority he held made me assume that Jaemin did as he was told. Next thing I know, he was calling out my name from the speaker.

"Mark, yes, I'm listening."

"Hey. I'm really sorry about this, but we need your help. We really have no other choice, Haechan is in such a bad state—"

That made me stand up and push away from my desk.

"What the hell is going on? What do you mean about Haechan?"

"I'll explain later. We're on our way to you now."

"Wait, what? You don't know my address."

"We'll be there in seven minutes."

That was all he said before he cut off the call, leaving me standing shell-shocked in the middle of my room.

---

They banged on my door not even five minutes after. I had barely pulled on a cardigan when loud knocks rang through my small one bedroom unit causing me to quickly run and grab my knob open.

I stood frozen at the sight of the seven boys crowding my doorway. Everyone was covered in some sort of soot, leaving them almost unrecognizable in their black outfits. Mark and Jeno were in the middle of the group, carrying a half-conscious Haechan between them. Jisung, Chenle, and Renjun brought the rear, their eyes moving wildly as if checking for eavesdroppers. Jaemin stood closest to me, his jaw tense and his eyes apologetic. My gaze snapped back to the center of the group when Mark called out my name.

That's when I saw it for the first time. I didn't notice it at first because of its dark color, but Jeno was holding a towel against Haechan's stomach. Except it isn't black, it was a deep dark red.

Blood.

"Oh my god."

"Please help us."

Maybe it was the shock, but I quickly stepped aside to let everyone in. I had barely slammed the door shut when I heard a crashing sound from my small dining area. Jeno pushed everything on top of my table to the ground as Mark and Jaemin gently guided Haechan on it.

"What—what is going on—"

"He's been shot. Thrice. We're not sure but I think two of the bullets are still there," Renjun answered me as he grabbed the soaked towel from Mark's hand and replaced it with a new one. Jisung and Chenle worked on closing all the shutters of my windows while Jaemin tore off a lamp from my living room to move it close to Haechan. He closed all other lights other than the ones on the dining area and the small lamp.

It was then when my training finally kicked in. I ran towards the table to peer at the wound, my shaking hands gently moving the new towel that is quickly getting soaked by blood again. Haechan gave a soft grunt of pain before slipping to unconsciousness again.

"I think there are still foreign objects there. It's what causing the severe bleeding."

"Can you take it out?"

My eyes shot to Jeno. The harsh lights from the lamp threw strong shadows on his stressed features.

"I'm not a licensed doctor."

"We don't need a licensed doctor right now, we need someone who can patch the hole in his stomach. Please."

I gritted my teeth. I have a ton of questions running through my head right now, but he's right. We need to act fast or else we will lose him. I rolled up my sleeves then and called out to whoever can act fast to my orders.

"Somebody get the black box under my bed. I have all my surgery practice tools there. I need hot water and lots of towels. Everyone move. Now."

As soon as I said my orders, each of the boys were moving in a flurry to get everything that I asked for. I was adjusting the small lamp directly over the wound to peer at it better when I felt a gentle hand circle around my arm. I looked up to see Jaemin staring at me.

"Thank you."

I didn't say anything at first. I don't know if it was the shadows playing over his features, but he looked different from the Jaemin I knew in that brief moment.

"Don't thank me yet. Say that once we're sure he survives."

---

I was stirred from my sleep by the light snoring of someone to my right. Turning my head, I was greeted by the sight of Jisung who was currently sprawled on my sofa, his legs so long that they were dangling on one end. Chenle was on the floor below him, his face covered by one of the pillows he probably fished from one of my love seats cradling Renjun's curled up form. Mark and Jeno were both sitting upright, the former close to Haechan and the other by the door like a sentinel. They seemed to be in deep sleep too, they're heads hanging low. Jaemin was on the floor next to my seat, his breathing slow and relaxed.

I blinked slowly as my gaze moved from boy to boy. It took me a painful two hours to do the impromptu surgery, first working on taking the bullets out before sewing everything back together. Haechan was lucky enough that the bullets didn't hit any vital organs or important vessels, and that the extreme bleeding was only caused by the wrong muscle being hit by the impact. He slipped from being conscious to unconscious throughout, and everyone had to work together to help me while I did my thing.

I couldn’t really blame any of them from crashing the moment we made sure that Haechan’s safe—for now.

After rubbing the sleep from my eyes, I tried to silently move from where I was curled on, careful not to stir anyone. I still have a ton of questions, but those can be taken care of later. I padded as carefully as I could towards the table where Haechan was still resting and peered at the IV that I had hooked on his arm to make sure everything was moving well.

They even have spare blood bags with them for emergency transfusions.

...As if this kind of thing normally happens.

"He's going to be okay, right?"

I hastily turned to see Jaemin staring at me. His voice was low and was only loud enough for me to hear.

I stared at him for a bit before looking away.

"Yes. He'll survive."

"Thank you so much."

I didn't answer. He also didn't say anything else, though I could still feel his gaze heavily on me. I braced myself before speaking again.

"We need to talk."

I didn't wait for him to reply. I simply walked towards my room, leaving my door open for him to follow. I only turned back to look at him when I finally heard it close softly behind him.

"Who are you?" I asked, before he could even say anything else. I watched as his jaw tightened and released, his eyes full of indecisiveness. I didn't waver. Not this time.

"You said…"

"That I will never ask questions? I did. But I can't do it anymore, Jaemin. You disappeared for a month without even saying goodbye then showed up on my door with your friends, one of them with a hole in their stomach. You have blood bags—freaking blood bags. What the hell is going on?"

I tried my hardest to control my voice, not wanting any part of this conversation to be heard outside. My legs felt weak at the moment but I tried my best to continue standing so I could hold his gaze.

The look in Jaemin's eyes, however, almost made me want to give up. I knew from the pain and hesitation there that I wouldn't like whatever it is he is about to say.

"I'm a criminal."

My stomach dropped.

I was expecting it, but hearing it straight from him didn't soften the impact and the shock.

"A…"

"We steal. We do illegal things. There is absolutely no good way for me to describe this, but yes, I am a runaway who was stupid enough to bring you into this mess," Jaemin said through gritted teeth as he tore his eyes away from me. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to take a deep breath to steady himself.

"I was stupid and I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone back and tried to befriend you after that order of coffee. I'm sorry I ran to you that night a month ago. I seriously thought I was going to die and I wanted you to be the one that I see for the last time. I'm sorry for today, or that I couldn't answer any of your questions back then. It was selfish of me to keep you in my life without giving you anything back," he stopped and forced himself to look at me again. My heart squeezed painfully in my chest when our gazes met.

"I'm sorry."

I didn't… couldn't say anything. One part of me had already expected this because it is the only reason that makes sense. Those vague answers, his detachment from normal society, the money, every clue seems to point to one direction, but that didn't spare me from my moral dilemma now. Because while I knew, I didn't exactly consider how it relates to me.

I was afraid to.

Because the truth is, I like Na Jaemin to the extent that I'm afraid of what I can do for him.

"Do you kill…" I asked in a whisper, my voice shaky. A frown passed his already stressed features before he answered.

"No. None of us do," he answered, and I knew then that he was telling the truth. Regardless of what he is or what he didn't tell me, I trust him to not lie to me.

"Am I—am I in danger?" I asked next. He firmly shook his head.

"No. I made sure of that. No one would dare—" he stopped, as if gauging what words he can use to not scare me even more. "You have always been under protection."

That’s when it clicked. The cafe visits from his friends. The random strangers who seem to spring out from nowhere every time I was out and about and needed sudden help.

My legs finally gave way and I collapsed on my bed behind me. My mind was trying its best to wrap around the situation, leaving my thoughts in a jumble. There are a million things I wanted to say, but I couldn’t get a single one out at the moment.

Jaemin seemed to know what I was feeling at the very least because he simply stood there, silently watching me. I'm not sure how long the two of us stayed in that bubble of silence, but it was also him who brought me back to reality when I felt warmth cover my hands.

I looked up to see him kneeling in front of me, both his hands gently enveloping my clasped ones. The look in his eyes made my heart lurch, but I couldn't bring myself to say anything still.

"I'm sorry if I was selfish… I promise, after this, you won't have to worry about anything else."

No.

"When I met you, I saw something that's so different from the life that I have. Believe me, I tried my best to leave you alone, but I wanted more of it—more of —you, so I kept coming back."

Are you going to leave me again?

"But you'll be safe now. I promise. You can go back to how it used to be before I… almost ruined it."

Please don't leave me.

Jaemin gave my hands one last squeeze and I felt him move to straighten himself. Before he let them go, however, another gentle warmth pressed against my forehead as he grazed it with his lips.

"Thank you."

My tears dropped the same time the doors closed behind him.

---

Chapter 4

120 notes · View notes

robinrequiems · 3 years

Text

ok ig cashier damian is my latest hyper fixiation, so let’s add

• Ight so, on fridays, jon cannot come in all the time, very rarely can he. and when he does. he sees a very cute sleepy damian who also wants to punch him:)

• damian is just a mess. he didn’t have time to fix his appearance because as soon as he got out of school, he had to change in a shitty unsanitary grocery store bathroom.

• it was not fucking fun. it never is. damian is so over it. jon normally sees Damian working on homework quickly before putting it away when Jon or other customers show

• damian cannot be asked to look like a normal human being when he just finished 7 sad hours of school in ANOTHER shitty uniform. he hates uniforms

Jon: you look like you’re gonna fall asleep

Damian: ugh, look who it is, the good boy from metropolis who doesn’t look like a creep at all when he comes here just to talk to me. woo hoo!

Jon: nice to see you too

• jon normally sucked on lollipops when he didn’t want to chew on gum, plus sometimes he chews on gum really aggressively and it hurts his jaw

• but let’s talk abt jonny: star athlete ( I’m a simp for athletes jon, please kill me. he’s a basketball player in this though. he got the height for it anyway ), himbo-vibes, and overall sweetheart.

• at least that’s what everyone else thinks. his life is a cycle. A very miserable cycle. It’s honestly tiring and hurts his head and generally takes his mood down

• but then he drove to bludhaven in his new car and brand new license. and he saw him.

• sure he’s seen moody teenagers working at stores before, but this boy; Damian, by his name tag, was different. He SENSED IT

• jon found that he liked different

• damian.. just didn’t easily talk with Jon like so many did at home. he liked a challenge

• and Damian was his challenge

• so he wasted so much gas and time and money to visit him.

• he was so whipped

• he was attracted to him. just the way he did things. like goddamn. ok.

• then his friends and him took a trip there. it was Saturday, they were gonna leave on Sunday. it was for Kathy’s birthday. He had no idea why she wanted to go here.

• oh. yeah. The idiots taken in for underaged drinking. Jon didn’t drink. ( he was a good boy and designated driver ) so he was just there trying to get the officers to let his friends off the hook

Damian: oh look, guess the good boy isn’t really a good boy.

Jon: Damian—? No! I’m here to get my friends out!

Damian: figures, you’re too innocent to do bad things.

Jon: what did you do then?

Damian: well wouldnt my you like to know

Dick: Damian! There you are! Sorry, I was calling up some parents- who is this?

Damian: Good boy.

Dick: ah.

Jon: Jon Kent.. nice to meet you

Dick: wait. As in Clark Kent?

Jon: yeah? that’s my dad

Dick: aw your dad used to babysit me

Damian: can we go now

Dick: hush Damian, I’m feeling nostalgic

• so Damian learned jons name. And jon got to see Damian in regular clothes, so that was cool

• he also got in trouble and couldn’t see Damian for a month because his parents were upset about what happened.. understandable, but jon was still upset

Tai: soo, that was him?:)

Jon: shut up

• tai accidentally found out about cashier boy, it was very funny for tai. not Jon. he teased jon for being whipped.

• sure jon liked damian for his looks at first. then he liked him for him.

Jon: dad, some guy named dick said hi

Clark: jon it isn’t— wait-

Jon: he said you babysat him

Clark: really? You saw him, how did he look? I haven’t seen him since he was a kid!

Jon: um. good?

Clark: where did you see him?

Jon: ..the police place

• his parents put a tracker on jons phone. now they were so confused why their son kept going to Giant Beagle in bludhaven. it was. weird.

• they just- was he meeting someone?? why was he doing this? WAS HE GETTING DRUGS? wait. no. it’s jon. jon couldn’t even stand the smell of cigarettes

Lois: jon.. honey.

Jon: yeah?

Lois: why do you keep driving to bludhaven? I’m worried about you and want to make sure you aren’t doing anything.. bad. Or dangerous.

• granted, it was very dangerous going out there, but he liked it. he liked the thrill of when he got to walk damian back sometimes! HE WAS GETTING CLOSER TO DAMIAN!

• oh also. it turns out damian gave him a fake number

• rude.

• damian always warned him though. and tried to make jon not walk far. jon was.. jon was a good boy. he would never survive in bludhaven frequently, jt worried humored damian.

• sometimes jon came by during the day. Damian’s Sunday shift was in the evening while his Saturday one was in the morning. jon got to go get lunch with him sometimes if Damian felt like there were enough people around that would know if he got kidnapped or not

Damian: why do you bother talking to me? most get bored of me and my attitude.

Jon: I find it charming. you’re fun to talk to. you feel so real. almost everyone in my life feels artificial and like I’m living in a disney Chanel movie.

Damian: *he laughed* oh?

Jon, loving Damians laugh rn: yeah! it’s like they’re.. androids or somethin’.

Damian: why don’t you just find someone snarky from metropolis?

Jon: it wouldn’t be as fun then.

Jon: i like a challenge.

• getting to know damian was like trying to beat the hardest level in his game. it was mind blowing how many times he basically had to restart. Damian was also like a Rubix cube, but jon will get there. He already has 1 side done on it.

Jon: so you live with your brother?

Damian: yes.

Jon: nice

• jon didn’t pry. Damian and dick had became forgotten after bruces death, a lot of the kids did. they just all disappeared from the media like ghosts.

• so jon didn’t know that dick wasn’t his blood relative, or that Damian was Bruce’s child. no one really did

• it wasn’t like it mattered though anyways

Damian: basketball is lame.

Jon: have you ever played?

Damian: yes. it sucked ass

• jon has helped Damian restocked late at night sometimes. Damian doesn’t like him touching things, but the faster he does it, faster he can go home to get his pets, alfred, and his idiot brother

Damian: you waste a lot of gas coming to see me.

Jon: it’s worth it.

• jon had to get a job. boo. he worked on days he didn’t have practice and sadly, on sundays.

• he was a worker at a small cafe, he was just a waiter there

• and then one day, on a Sunday, Damian came in with a few people. WAIT DAMIAN CAME IN

Jon: DAMIAN

Damian, clearly startled: what the fuck, jon!

Jon: why’re you here! how long are you staying! ARE TOU REALLY HERE!

Maya: is this who you were talking about?

Damian: shut up.. but calm down, idiot.

Damian: .. you got a haircut.

Jon: you- you noticed? sorry I couldn’t come this week. was busy this week and needed to catch up on sleep.

Damian:’it’s fine. I guess I really should give you my number now.

Colin: that was smooth

Jon: really?

Damian: mhm. after you seat us, dumbass.

Jon: oh right

• and Damian did give jon his number

• a real one dw

Maps: he was cute.. he single?

Maya: he wouldn’t be single if Damian just manned up

Colin: they practically just stared at each other the whole time when they thought the other wasn’t looking

Damian: wait he was looking at me?

Maya: oh damians so whipped.

• oh how the cashier is falling for the waiter

• sounds like a hallmark film.

• next week jon did end up visiting him in ‘haven, and drove him home.

• damians feet were hurting and he was tired so he didn’t even bother to argue.

• jon couldn’t come to visit his favorite cashier during winters a lot, he may of liked his new “dangerous” life, but he heard how bad the roses could get from Damian

• damian was a bit sad and moody because of that. but shut up. you don’t know anything dick

Dick: you know.. you should invite him inside

Damian: so you can embarrass me? no thank you.

Dick: me? embarrass you? never. but come on, you have never shown interested in anyone before! I wanna meet him!

Damian: you already did. At the police station. you forget or something?

Dick: .. that wasn’t really the best first meeting. come on. please?

Damian: no.

#cashier damian #Damian wayne #jon kent #au #rambles #damijon

61 notes · View notes

thesmokingguns · 3 years

Text

Phone Tag

Word count: 3512

Requested: “My idea was that the reader thought Kelly was cheating on her on tour, and when he comes home, he finds her really upset and comforts her and assures her that he only loves her”

Requested by @littlemisscare-all

A/N: I just want to thank @littlemisscare-all for the request and letting me message her about questions I had. Kelly Nickels is a new character I’m writing and she was patient with my questions and so helpful. This is a little longer than my usual one shots so I hope you like it. I have three requests I need to write on top of my regular stuff I want to put out so feel free to make a request but I’m going to say the time might be up to a week now. I also have a tag list you can be added to by just messaging me or filling out the form. Please let me know what you think ❤️

Tag List: @thenobodies-inc , @littlemisscare-all , @agroupiewhore, @ayablackwood

Ring, Ring, Ring

The constant sound of the phone trying to connect with room 828 was filling my head. The high pitched sound bouncing around your mind as you wished he’d pick up. After another minute of the phone going unanswered you hung up, wiping my sweat filled palms on the denim dress hastily.

You could see your fingers trembling, the anxiety of the situation coming out in physical ailment as your trembling hands started to get numb. You shook out your hands, flexing them, cracking them, pushing them together, anything to just calm yourself down enough to feel them again. Your heart was beating so fast that it felt like it had turned on its engine and got lodged in your throat when it pressed the gas. You couldn’t swallow down the pounding so you tried instead to take a gulp of air. Breathing in through your nose and out of your mouth. In through your nose and out through your mouth. Even though you felt like you were not getting enough air when you breathed through your nose you continued anyway trying to calm your body that seemed to be fighting you. You were trying anything to try and stop the full fledged anxiety attack from coming on.

You stepped back into the store, trying not to make eye contact with your friend and coworker as you started to fold the sweaters on the front side table. Your hands needed to stay busy as you tried to avert your eyes from anyone, tears pooling in them. You couldn’t think about the situation or you’d start crying. But fuck, it had been almost a week since You had heard from your boyfriend. Your hand went to my pocket, pulling out the ripped out notebook paper Kelly had given you with the name, date, room number and phone number for each hotel. He was supposed to be in Phoenix in room 828 at the Hilton Hotel. Which you had already called seven times throughout the day without any response.

“Y/N, are you okay?” Your coworker touched your shoulder and you let out a sob, hands flying to your face. The feeling of someone touching you after the last month of being alone was too much. You broke feeling the loneliness blanketing over you, covering you. Your coworker was leading you to the breakroom, thankful no one was in the shop to see you have a complete mental breakdown.

He had promised you that you would talk every day; he had seen the nervous look in your eyes when the guys talked about the tour. All the girls that would be throwing themselves at the band. They were all about the three fundamentals: sex, drugs and rock n roll. How were you going to compete with something you weren't there to see?

“Jesus Fucking Christ, where the fuck is that paper?” Kelly was tearing apart the tour bus looking for a yellow piece of legal paper that you had written down all the numbers to call you on. He had lost it a week ago after he had drunkenly started a shot game with Phil that night and that had proved to be a horrible mistake.

When he had woken up, on the kitchen floor of the tour bus, a hangover so bad he wanted to fling himself into the highway all he could think about was calling the person that he loved and telling her about his night. The sound of her voice coaxing the hangover out of him and filling him up with the love she had for him. He had pushed himself off the floor, grabbing his cigarettes from his jacket and digging in the inside pocket for the list of numbers, but the paper was gone.

It had been six days since he had lost the numbers and as much as he tried to remember a phone number he couldn’t even think of one. He had expected a phone call to explain everything but the problem was that phone call had never come. This was just another layer of frustration that Kelly couldn't figure out. For the first few weeks of the tour he had gotten the calls at the hotel but a night before he lost the number the call hadn’t come in.

So now, being the very logical, even headed, and not complete maniac that he was, Kelly was tearing apart every single part of the tour bus. Ripping open trash bags, pulling apart beds, and crawling under the table that had a weird sticky substance underneath. As he pushed half drank beer cans aside he saw the flap of yellow sticking out. His heart leapt to his throat as he snatched up the paper, flipping it over and groaning audibly. The paper had gotten saturated. One number was partially visible with only a couple numbers melting together.

Walking off the tour bus he headed over to the payphone, setting a handful of change on the metal bottom as he started to dial different combinations of the number hoping that he could finally reach his girlfriend. Hoping that her lack of calls to him didn’t mean they had broken up or what if she had met someone else? She did have that fucking girlfriend who didn’t like him. What if she had gone out to The Roxy and met someone else?

He gripped the paper so hard in his hand as the phone rang and he thought of you with someone else. He needed to talk to you,

You were walking home, unable to work as your mind went a million miles a minute. Your heart thumping so loudly that your own thoughts were muted and just scenarios were popping in your head. Images of Kelly with his arm around another girl, disheveled hotel rooms with discarded clothes, his lips worshiping someone else's body. You stopped on the sidewalk closing your eyes, fists tightening as you told yourself not to scratch your arms. It was all in your head. This was all in your head and not real.

Another shaky step towards your apartment. Your eyes were on the payphone at the end of the block and you figured you could try one more time to call the hotel. Maybe when you heard his voice it would put out the fire of your mind. He could calm your anxiety, easing you from the panic attacks it caused and draw you in with the safety of his voice. He must have known how crazy you were going and when he finally talked to you he would have a logical explanation for why he had disappeared.

As you convinced yourself that he was going to answer this time, you could feel the burning bile in your gut start to be put out as the rational part of your mind tried to make a little room for you to have hope. The way your hands trembled as you took out a dime, sliding it into the slot and dialing the number, let you know that the temporary band aid your rational side had put on your anxiety wasn’t going to stick for very long. If Kelly didn’t answer it was going to be ripped off and you’d be left with the exposed wound that you would need to deal with..

Ring...Ring...Ri-

“Hello?” your heart caught in your throat, and you could feel your eyes widening as you heard a voice answer the phone on the other end, “Hello, is anyone there?” The very female voice that was answering the phone was not your boyfriend.

“Kelly?” his name left your lips, almost a whimper. All of the worst situations that you imagined could be happening in your head seemed to come to life now. It wasn’t just in your head, a woman was answering his hotel phone.

“Ohhhh, they’re in the shower. If you call back in an hour-” you hung up the phone. It took you four tries before you could get the receiver on the cradle because the shaking in your hand was running through your entire body now. You tried to crack your fingers, a weak attempt to get some control of the motions of your body.

In the shower. If he was taking a shower at 4pm what was he washing off of himself? Who was the girl who had answered the phone? Had he not answered because he had been so busy with her all day? You dry heaved in front of the payphone, sucking in air when nothing came out. You wanted to go home and hide, burying yourself under blankets until the weight of the sadness lifted. Not that you were sure it was ever going to lift because you had just caught him cheating on you.

It was a miracle that you made it to the apartment. You dropped your keys twice, your hands not working how they were supposed to. Your grip on them slipping and letting them fall through your fingers. Had you let Kelly fall through your fingers?

You hissed out a curse, shouldering into your apartment and locking the door behind you. You were off of work tomorrow so you could stay holed up inside the apartment for at least twenty four hours before anyone would think to call. That gave you time to wallow in your emotions and feel everything you needed to feel.

Looking around at the space it dawned on you that you would need to leave. Separate your things and get out of the city before he comes back to it. Which didn’t give you enough time at all because he would be back in two days for the LA show at the Whisky a Go Go, Where were you going to live? Maybe you could find a roommate or you could always stay with your best friend. She would let you in. There was so much to do and so much to figure out but you needed to lay down and figure it out from the comfort of the bed.

On the way to the bed you tripped over the phone you had kept beside it for the past few days hoping for Kelly to finally call you. You looked at the phone hanging off the hook, knowing if anyone called you they would just get the busy signal but you didn’t hang it back up. Kelly was too busy in some hotel room with a strange girl and he hadn’t bothered to call you in a week anyway. You needed to just get in bed and mourn your relationship. You’d move out tomorrow and start a new life without him.

Kelly hung up the phone, looking at his apartment phone number that the girl at the shop had just given to him. He had missed you by twenty minutes and from what he had just heard you were in bad shape.He sucked in his bottom lip as he dialed the home number. He would explain everything to you as soon as he had you on the phone. He could already picture you asking him if he had at least won the drinking game.

“What the fuck?” He looked at the phone when he got the busy signal. It had to be the right number. He had repeated the number twice to make sure that he got the correct number and now he was getting a busy signal. He dialed again, getting the same alert sound. Then again. And again. He stopped after constantly calling for ten minutes to take a breath. He was going to need to have a beer and try again.

He tried calling twenty minutes later, an hour, three hours, and before he went on stage for the show. His mind was thinking of how you could be on the phone for that long. He frowned as he grabbed his bass going over to the band's manager. He needed to get home sooner than the tour bus would take him.

You got out of the shower, wrapping your sweater around you over your nightgown. Your eyes skimmed the apartment where you had spent the last four hours cleaning like a maniac and separating everything. Your records were in a milkcrate by the door, along with a trash bag of all your clothes. Things like pots and pans didn’t seem worth fighting over. You would leave those for him. Even though you weren’t even sure if Kelly knew how to fry an egg.

Twirling a piece of hair around your finger you tried to calm the uneasy feeling filling you. He had been the one who hadn't answered your calls or called you. He was the one who had a girl answer the phone in his room. He wanted you to leave but he didn’t want to see the hurt he caused by telling you it was over. Your friends had all warned you about dating a rockstar so it wasn’t like you could expect much sympathy from them. But you had been with Kelly for over a year and hadn’t seen it coming. It felt like you were blindsided. To love someone so much had really just opened you up to the pain you were feeling now.

Moving to the bedroom you looked around the room, the pit of your stomach turning in sadness as you thought about this being the final time you sleep in this bed. The tears boiling up and tumbling down your face as you sat on his side, touching the pillow that he slept on. You could smell his aftershave and scent on his pillow just making you cry even harder. The feeling in the pit of your stomach growing as you missed someone who was gone.

Over your tears you didn’t hear the sound of the front door opening. You were wrapped around a pillow mind racing in a thick fog of all the reasons you weren’t good enough. Why couldn't he love you? Could anyone love you?

“Y/N, baby, what’s wrong?” Arms were wrapped around you. You were being pulled onto a lap, hair pushed away from your tear stained face.

“K-Kelly?” It comes out weekly, almost afraid you’re hallucinating arms wrapped around you, fingers touching your tears, pushing the puddles that gathered on your skin with an expert flick of a thumb.

“Yeah, baby, I’m here. What happened? Why are you so upset? Who do I need to fight?” He was trying to defuse the situation with humor to drag you out of your hysterics. But he was the one that had gotten you to this place.

Sitting up you pushed yourself off his lap, a frown forming on his face from this action. You could feel the way your hands were starting to go numb as you wiped your tears, knowing there was going to be a confrontation with him.

“I called you for a week, Kelly. I called all the numbers multiple times a day and you didn’t answer. You didn’t call me back.” The way he frowned at this didn’t go unnoticed by you. You took it as a sign of his guilt. He had been ignoring you on purpose. “And I called this afternoon and a girl answered from your hotel room.” He stood up suddenly shaking his head.

“No, no, no.” You rolled your eyes at his weak attempt to lie about the fact you had spoken to a girl that was in his room, “Oh fuck, we didn’t even check into the hotel today. I was on the tour bus looking for the list of numbers you had written down for me.” He was digging into his leather jacket pocket looking for the yellow paper. You were trying to process what he was saying.

“But they said you were in the shower when I asked for you.” You said with a frown, trying to process what he was saying. It would be easy to believe him, tryst him blindly and forget all the drama but there were so many things that just weren’t adding up. He produced the yellow list holding it up with the missing pieces and wet pen running into a blurred mix of ink.

“Call the hotel now. I’m obviously here with you. Maybe they heard you wrong?” He knew you needed real proof. He looked at the phone on the floor that was off the receiver, “I tried to call you today. I guess this explains the busy signal.” He moved to hang it back up.

“I called you and you didn’t answer all week and you didn’t even call me once.” You pointed out. “You’re on tour with all your horny band members and I’ve been out with you all before.” You didn’t want to ask him because you knew that he would answer you honestly. He couldn’t lie to you, even on little things he was always 100% honest. Which you had found out one night when you tried on a new dress and asked how you looked and he had told you the dress looked like a rejected extra from a Cyndi Lauper music video.

“I lost the phone numbers when I was drinking with Phil one night. It took me a week to find them on the bus.” He confessed. That story seemed pretty on par for who they were, “And are you asking if I was stupid enough to cheat on you?” At the words you went white, gripping the sheets. Kelly took in your reaction and knew that’s exactly what you were thinking had happened. “Listen, Y/N.” He moved over to the bed gripping your face in his hands, stroking your cheeks with his thumbs and giving him a soft smile, “I love you. Just you. And I wouldn’t do anything to ever lose your love. I spent a week trying to find a paper just so I could hear your voice. I was waiting for you to call all week, baby. Why didn’t you call me?” The soft way he spoke was melting the ice in your veins, calming you with the right touches and bringing you to the current situation happening in real life and not just in your head.

“I called you so much. I called all the hotels that you told me to call. But you never answered me.” You pointed to a crumpled up ball on the nightstand. Watching him grab it and smooth out the page of numbers.

“Oh shit.” He rubbed his chin and looked up at you with an almost embarrassed look. You knew exactly what that look was. He had made a mistake, “So, um, these hotels are out of order. I must have copied them backwards because this one.” He pointed at the last hotel you had called today. “Should have been here.” He pointed a few up and you sighed in relief. The tears still came flowing out but this time in relief, “I’m an idiot. I’m sorry, baby.” He reached out, folding you to him. Your body was relaxed, allowing him to calm you with his back rubs and head kisses. Comforting you by holding you in his arms and reminding you that he loved you with his touch.

“I’m sewing my name and our telephone number into all your clothes tomorrow.” You muttered after a little while. He chuckled, kissing the top of your head.

“Next time, just come on tour with us. That way we never have to worry about playing phone tag.” You nodded your head listening to his heart beat. “We’re going to have to spend tomorrow morning unpacking your stuff. But I do respect your commitment to cut ties so thoroughly that you organized the records.” He got the laugh out of you that he was looking for. You sat up, shrugging your shoulders.

“I was just looking for an excuse to steal your Bowie records.” You teased him. He scoffed, pulling you to lay down beside him.

“I flew back here to be with you, Y/N. The least you could do is not threaten to steal my records.” Kelly pulled you close to him. “Do you feel better now that I’m back?” The concern in his voice warmed you to the core. You nodded your head at him. “Now you know you’re stuck with me and how wrapped around your finger I am.” You sighed out softly, eyes heavy as you felt like you could finally get some sleep after having a week of anxiety dreams and panic attacks preventing you from getting more than a tossing turning sleep for the week.

“Maybe next time send me a postcard to let me know you love me.” You said through a sleepy haze.

“Maybe I’ll train carrier ducks to send messages. Or learn how to do smoke signals.” A smile slipped out as you cuddled closer letting him lull you to sleep with his soft touches and soft mutters. He loved you, you could feel it. And that was all you needed

#kelly nickels #la guns #L.A Guns #kellly nickels imagine #Kelly nickels headcanon #Kelly nickels fanfic #request

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itsjustmyfantasyroom · 3 years

Text

Hug me

For: @sweetcannolicarisi Candy Hearts Bingo and a request for the lovely @beccabarba who asked for this:

Bingo square: Hug me

Pairing: Miguel Galindo x reader.

Warnings: Soft Miguel and roughist smut.

WC: 1487

Enjoy x

You hadn’t signed up for this, well not this part of it anyway. You came from a big family that had been involved with the Galindo’s since before you were born. When your parents sent you to collage with Miguel, he had his heart set on breaking the cartel chain wanting to be more than just following in his Daddy’s footsteps. But guess his fate was sealed and once he graduated he headed back home to follow in his Dad’s footsteps and you staid in LA becoming one of the best plastic surgeon in the state.

You never went home often, couple of days max for main events blaming work but really you wanted nothing to do with that life until your grandmother got ill and you were needed at home. It was lucky you had a thrust worthy associate that took over your clinic and operations while you were away. Your grandmother passed a couple of days after you got home and your Mother and Father had told you that you needed to stay with the family for the mandatory mourning days before you could leave.

Of course Miguel was around often grieving with you all, his Dad being best friends with yours. Miguel had been divorced for a while and what started as sitting together at the house talking, to going out for dinner as friends, to him going down on you in the back of his car lead to you now being married for coming on 12 months, your clinic moving to Santo Padre and your parents over the moon that you were closer to home and married to Miguel.

Growing up around a cartel life seeing what your Mum went through, you had agreements for when Miguel was away and he respected them, understanding where you were coming from, both your Dad’s disappearing for days on end, your mothers not even knowing if they were still alive till they showed up again. You didn’t want to know about business you just wanted to know that he was alive and well. This was one of those times for you, the first time since being married. When Miguel went away he always left Nestor with you. But this time Miguel needed Nestor and Marcus for what he told you was 2 days max. It was now day 7 and nothing, no calls, no messages nothing. All of their mobiles going to voice message.

You had your associate come out to take over your operations for a couple of weeks not being able to function with no sleep, awake all night waiting for Miguel to walk through the door every night. It was 2am and you were pacing in your bedroom, all the lights on and the TV on wrapped in Miguel’s grey dressing gown that smelt like him. You had just pegged your phone on the bed after calling his number again and it was still going to voice message.

You had your arms wrapped around yourself, tears running down your cheeks thinking nothing but the worst when the bedroom door opened and you screamed running to the bedside table to get your gun that Miguel had in the drawer for emergencies,

“Babe it’s me, it’s ok” Miguel walked in, his black shirt and pants dirty and a cut on his cheek.

If looks could have killed Miguel wouldn’t have stood a chance,

“Miguel Galindo are you having a laugh, 7 days Miguel- 7 days. None of your phones answering. Do you have any idea what I have been thinking?” you yelled at him.

Miguel walked in closing the door and started to strip off his clothes, shoes and socks, he just in his boxers and he rushed over to you wiping your tears away with the back of his hand,

“Baby I’ am so sorry, we got held up”

“You think” you spat more tears running down your cheek Miguel wiping them away “Hug me”

Miguel wrapped his arms around you kissing the top of your head, down your cheeks and along your jaw,

“You need a shower” you screwed your nose up at him, he laughed pulling away walking to the bathroom.

You laid in bed and listened to the shower run through the closed door of the bathroom, finally relaxed that Miguel was finally home and safe. The door opened and Miguel turned off the light walking out in just a pair of boxers, turning the room lights off making his way around the bed getting in next to you. Miguel crawled into bed spooning you, wrapping you in his arms, moving your hair out of the way nuzzling into your neck. His beard running along your skin a comfort,

“I missed you baby” Miguel whispered into your ear.

“I missed you too. Next time you take a satellite phone”

Miguel chuckled “Sí jefa” Miguel kissed your neck “How can I make it up to you Amor?”

“You’re doing it now. Just hug me, don’t let me go”

“Never baby”

The room fell silent for long a while, you actually thought Miguel had fallen asleep till he whispered in your ear,

“What would you have done?” You rolled over in his embrace facing him. His frown lines were deep “If I haven’t come home?”

“Mig-“

“Tell me” he cut you off “Tell me that you would never get over me, that your heart will always be mine, that I’ am the only man you will ever want and need”

You took in a deep breath reaching up to rest your hand on the back of Miguel’s neck, his eyes looking deep into yours, wet around their rim,

“Miguel Gilando, your now and always will be my one and only. My heart would break into a million pieces and I would never be able to love again”

Miguel moved to roll on top of you, you spread your legs so that he could settle between them his elbows resting next to your head and he rolled his hips into your clothed core and you moaned loud. Miguel pushed up off you sitting back on his hunches pulling your sleep shorts and panties down in one go. Miguel then pulled you up by your wrists ripping your shirt off over your head and then pushed you back down. He was on you, his chest pushed against yours, his body heat on yours making you squirm as his tongue darted into your mouth as he thrusted his clothed cock into you hard.

Miguel pulled away his lips landing on your neck starting a trail of kisses down the length of your body. Nipping and sucking along the way down till he got to your core licking up the length of your centre, taking your clit into his mouth. You groaned, one of your hands grabbing onto the sheets, the other going to the back of Miguel’s head.

Miguel slid in two fingers pushing them in hard and fast your hardened pearl between his lips sucking on it, flicking it with the tip of his tongue. Miguel could feel you tightening around him, his face covered in your juices,

“Oh Miguel, it’s only you forever and always” you screamed as your eyes slammed shut your body felt like it was on fire, Miguel riding you through your high.

He pulled away and like a flash Miguel flipped you onto all fours pushing your top half into the bed by your shoulder blades, pushed down his boxers and his cock drove into you hard and fast. Your face was pressed into the pillow while Miguel drove into you,

“You will always be mine Y/N”

Miguel moved his hand from your back into your hair, tugging you up, your back flush with his chest bucking up into you. Miguel rested one hand on your hip slamming you down on him, the other snaking up cupping your tit in his big warm hand. One of your hands went up to sit on top of the one on your breast, the other went down to your core finding your pearl circling it with your fingers, your release almost at its edge,

“It’s always you Miguel. No one could ever take your place”

Miguel lent forward his teeth slightly sinking into your shoulder as he bucked up into you grunting. He slammed you down on him and you screamed his name so loud you hoped no one outside heard you, falling forward landing on your hands. Miguel bucked up hard, your name leaving his in breathless groans coming deep inside you. You pulled yourself off him falling on the bed, Miguel falling next to you and he wrapped you in his arms. Kissing over your naked shoulder as he gasped to get his breath,

“You mean it baby don’t you?” Miguel turned your face with his big hand to look at him.

“Of course baby. You’re all I ever need”

Tags: @witches-unruly-heart @thatesqcrush @lovebennycolonmiguelgalindo @amorestevens

#miguel galindo #miguel galindo x reader #miguel galindo smut #mayans mc #mayans fanfic #miguel galindo x you

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akistans · 3 years

Text

✰yandere Enhypen.

Hyung line x reader.

Warnings: stalking, Yandere themes, reference to suicidal thoughts, possessiveness, obsession, arranged marriage(ig), death, kidnapping, Jake gives you a hickey, DARK THEMES AHEAD.

This does not represent Enhypen in any way or shape, this is purely fiction. I also don’t support abusive relationships, please seek help if you or a loved one are in that situation.

Requested!

✰ Lee Heeseung.

Play with your Heartstrings.

What started off as romantic quickly became overbearing. Not a single second wasn’t spent with Heeseung by your side, he was just so innocent in your eyes, you didn’t realize how possessive he really was. You didn’t see it as much of a problem until your friends and family started contacting you saying that you blocked their old numbers months ago.

And weirdest part of it all, you don’t recall, if even a reason why, blocking their numbers. You decided to confront him by saying you two needed a break. But Heeseung would always be two steps ahead of you.

“You want a break...? Why? Am i not a good boyfriend? I knew it, maybe i should just disappear, what good am i?” He guilt trips you, which you instantly fall for.

“You-you’ll stay? Really! You’re not like the others Yn! I love you so much!” He brings you into an almost painful hug, smirking to himself at how gullible you are. And little do you know, that would be the last time you’re heard from.

✰ Park Jay.

Infatuation love.

From the moment Jay laid eyes on you in pre school, your fate was already destined. He had to have you, he saved himself just for you. Countless rejections and meaningless names that went with them. He wanted you to be his first everything when came to a relationship.

And of course you were going to save yourself for him as well. The thought of another person having you would make him lose it. So he started rumors about you making sure no one ever looked your way. And if someone as dared to even make conversation with you, they’d be leaving the city in a body bag. When you two came of age, he went to your parents, requesting your hand in marriage.

Jay comes from a very wealthy and influential family, so something like this was practically similar to winning the lottery, your parents couldn’t pas this up. When you heard of the news, you were shocked to see even your own parents sold you out. So you decided to leave the city. Before you could even step a foot out, Jay and his men were already at your door.

“Ah-i see you already packed your bags, i see no need why. I can just buy you new things, it’s been my dream to go shopping with you! How bout we do that during our honeymoon?”

✰ Sim Jake.

Your one and only.

Jake hated your guts, but don’t worry, the feeling was mutual. He hated how you rejected his advances, and you hated that he even had the audacity. He was known as the school flirt, so of course you didn’t want anything to do with him, you were more focused on your studies anyway.

In all honesty, although you were annoying as hell, he liked this little “game” going on between you two. He liked how you provided a little more challenge, he wanted that feeling all to himself.

One day he saw one of his good friends flirting with you and you were just eating it up. His final breaking point was when you caressed his friends arm and stepped closer to him. Something snapped, Jake lost it, and came up to you two. He pinned you against the locker and roughly brought you in for a kiss. His friend got the message and left. You tried your best to pull him off but he wouldn’t let up.

“You think i liked seeing you get all gushy with him just now? Wow. You’re incredibly stupid. But dont worry though, i’ll make sure everyone knows your taken.” He managed to suck an eye catching purple spot onto your collarbone and walked into class with his arm around your waist.

“Maybe this will teach you a lesson.”

✰ Park Sunghoon.

Beneath the mask.

So cute. You were just so cute and easy for the taking. A serial killer appeared in your neighborhood about a year ago, No one knew a single thing about said killer, except that he specifically targeted your university. And might i add, your local police department is doing an “excellent job” in tracking him down.

One thing was clear though, the victim’s bodies would be found weeks later. He left no evidence whatsoever. One day, you started to feel a dark presence around you, as if you were being watched. This carried on for a whole month, you lived far away from home so you couldn’t seek comfort from your family, your friends started to think you were crazy, and the police said they couldn’t help you. Yes, the police said that.

You overslept at the library one day and missed your bus, forcing you to walk home. And that was the fateful day, you were snatched off the street by a masked man. You tried your best to escape, but it was hopless, you begged in tears and asked him who was he. The boy lifted the hoodie and mask off him to reveal a handsome face.

“I’m your new boyfriend, lover, honey, whatever you want to call it, at least until i get bored and decide your no longer worth the trouble. But since you’re so cute, i may just bend the rules this once.” He help up his index finger with a mischievous smile, pinching your cheek as if you were some baby before dragging you away.

By next week Your missing posters would be around town.

Authors note: This honestly turned out darker than i expected;-; I really had some amazing concepts for the hyung lines and it was so hard to say everything for each of them at once so i may elaborate further on each member specifically in the future. I’ll probably do a maknae one in the near future.

But i hope you all enjoyed !

#Sunghoon gives off Sangwoo vibes #but were not gonna talk about that;-;#enhypen scenarios #enhypen jay #kpop #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen angst #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jake #yandere kpop #yandere enhypen

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creativeashproductions · 4 years

Text

What If...? IV // Alive!Luke Patterson

Summary: 1997 and 1998 are big years for Luke Patterson and his fiancée with their engagement and wedding planning. If you thought wedding planning and the wedding itself was the big things well, you’d be wrong. I mean this is the couple that almost ended with a car accident. Join the year long adventure.

Warnings: Swearing, pregnancy, minor angst, sweet groom!Luke, and fluff

Words: 3.3k

Requested: By @beautifulblogsblog. There is one more part after this. 🥺😭

A/N: It’s finally here! The Patterson-Y/L/N wedding makes its appearance here and a little cameo of a future character. The next part is the last part in the miniseries as well. Enjoy.

TO BE TAGGED SEND AN INBOX PLEASE!

Masterlist

Hollywood 1997

An entire year had flown by from the day of your engagement to Luke filled with frustration, elation and greatness. Sunset Curve toured around California, leaving the Y/L/N-Patterson women to plan the wedding. Nineteen years old now in the modestly sized apartment, Luke sat beside you in the bathroom.

Two nervous teenagers a mere month away from their wedding day they cuddled each other eyes pinned at the floor. Apprehensive of the stick that held power to change everything in their lives. For the last week, you hadn’t felt very well with being tired and nausea laying you out in bed.

“It’s been long enough.” Luke murmured reaching for the test, “No matter what. I love you.”

Kissing his cheek, the two of you slumped at the negative with surprising emotion. The negative greatly disappointed you.

“I’m sorry,” Luke mumbled to his fiancée equally torn up because while the timing wasn’t perfect, he had pictured what life would be like.

A tiny baby growing in his fiancée womb, growing into bump made flutters in his belly. Of love, he already felt for your future unborn children and snuggling his kids. Introducing them to his loved ones and bonding over music. Teaching his son or daughter how to play the guitar.

He’d love to see his parents cradle a new addition to the family freshly born with the tiny knit hat Emily couldn’t resist making. Sharing a celebratory beer with his father and wisdom for the coming years. To learn the parental reason of why they had been against his career choice.

“I really wanted it to be positive.” You admitted playing with your fingers disappointed at being wrong about your body. Luke smiled as your words as he grabbed your hand in his calloused grip.

“Do you…do you want to try for a baby?” Luke trailed off flushing at how beautiful you would look growing his child. The bathroom was quiet as you thought the idea over, “With the tour just finishing the band will be writing music and recording. I could be here for the whole pregnancy and birth.”

“If we get pregnant in the next month. But we’re also getting married in a few months.” You sighed leaning to rest about his bare arm staring at the pregnancy test.

“If it happens then it happens.” Luke spoke, “If you want, we can try.”

Raising your eyes to meet Luke’s you hesitantly nodded at his words as it settled that is there ever a perfect time to get pregnant? So many people struggle with conception like your parents did with you; your mother’s labour was so complicated that you’d never have siblings.

“Okay.” Luke breathed, standing up to scoop you into his arms, “Best get on with it.”

The laughter filled the simple bedroom as Luke crawled over your body to hover with a matching smile. There was no one else in the world that could get his heart fluttering and focus on something other than music. It was terrific, and he couldn’t be mad about.

“So, Rockstar…are you gonna help?” You whispered tugging on the chain of his necklace to drag his face closer. Closing the distance, Luke’s lips brushed yours before time stopped in a collision of senses.

The callouses of his fingers trailing a fire under the flowing shirt chosen for the lunch date earlier. The warmth of his hands nowhere close enough to match the heat your body burnt with. The taste of the cherry chapstick he shamelessly stole from you, but it was the heady scent of Luke that got you.

Luke heavily breathed as he pulled back with a hazy gaze with the green almost overtaken by the black pupils. No hesitation as your lips sucked on his neck, bringing a gravelly moan from the man over you, a sound that caused your lower half to clench. Legs unable to fully close as his fingers drew symbols on your inner thigh.

Symbols that spelt out his full name. Now that was really hot.

A gasp pulled from your throat you arched as a hand came up to cup your breast in his hand; Luke could argue all he wanted, but he was boob man when it came to you.

Thoughts disappearing the ecstasy with the love of your life overtook your senses.

July 1998

The white dress was a little snugger than the previous month, but you had a good reason for it. A tiny little blob had taken up residence in your womb with a sickness that lasts all day from day one until the start of trimester two. Getting pregnant had to be easy with Luke from the number of times.

Didn’t matter where you were when Luke tugged you away. The small bathroom in the studio? Three times.

Luke’s couch? Yeah, Alex refuses to sit there now.

At this point, you had been everywhere, trying for a baby was incredibly fun, but the hormones sucked. Luke’s deft fingers creating the chords of a song? Bobby banned you from rehearsals, and you had an emergency bag of clothes as well.

“You look gorgeous.” Nancy Y/L/N told her daughter with tears glittering in her eyes as she took in the sight of her daughter. The wedding dress the bridesmaids, mother’s and Alex had hunted for; the boy had tagged along as he was like a brother. Reggie, Bobby and Luke had spent the day with Mitch and Lance.

A sob broke from the lips of Lance; his baby girl no longer needed him with her soon to be husband. There was no one in the world he trusted more with his daughter than Luke Patterson. The boy never placed the band ahead of his fiancée, and it was quickly noticed how much Luke adored the Y/L/N girl.

“Dad.” You spoke, rushing to hug the man in your arms, “Stop crying. You’ll make me cry.”

Lance was able to hold his tears until the music started and the doors opened to the venue that Luke’s parents married in. Luke stood at the altar with Bobby, Alex, and Reggie. On the opposite side stood your best friend, a childhood friend and your close cousin.

“You look beautiful,” Dad told you slowly making their way to the man cupping his hands over his face. Overtaken by your beauty and the glow, Luke thanked Lance.

“Baby, you look like an Angel,” Luke whispered, squeezing your hands tightly in his as the ceremony began.

“It’s rare that one can find their soulmate, the other half of themselves on such a large plant. Luke and Y/N orbited each other as young children and fell in love in a perfect place. For those of you who don’t know, these two met as a concert. The first step to falling in love. Music is important to this couple.” The officiant spoke, “Luke’s mother told me once that music tethered their souls together, they truly met at a concert, and every important moment had a song.”

Luke’s eyes watered meeting the brown of his mother’s love-filled eyes holding hands with her husband. Luke had no clue how much his mother came to accept, and he felt the relationship fully fix itself as it settled that his Mom had personally made the ceremony better.

“These two souls came together and became one. Luke and Y/N’s love is rare and beautiful. Today these two had decided to make their own vows.” The officiant finished, “Luke if you could start.”

“There has always music in my heart and soul since childhood. I adored listening and begging my parents for new music. My parents, one year, gave me a guitar as a gift, and it started a deep passion in my soul. I made a band with my best friends, and the band brought me to a person that would become more important. Y/N, I had had a crush on you for a long time before you first spoke to me. I had hit Reggie in the calf with my father’s car, and you made a joke about my height. It wouldn’t be until years later than I somehow convinced you to take a chance.” Luke squeezed your hands, “I love music because it brought me to you.”

“Luke. I am absolutely positive that I have loved you for more than this lifetime as my love is so vast and deep. I believe we have been destined since the dawn of time to find each other together by music. I can’t compete with your vows because you have a way with words with the songwriting you’ve done. You’ve been there through the hard times and best times holding my hand ready to catch me if I fell. I can’t wait to spend the rest of our lives catching each other when we need it.”

“May the rings be presented?” The officiant asked with a smile as your best friend and Alex gave the rings.

“With this ring, I thee wed,” Luke whispered as he slid the band to rest against your engagement ring. You repeated the words as you slid the band on his finger as well.

“I now pronounce you as man and wife. Mr. Patterson, you may kiss your wife.” The officiant spoke, sending the room into applause.

You and Luke ran down the aisle still holding hands with the biggest smiles of your entire life to the limo that would deliver you to the reception. Luke couldn’t help himself as he pressed kisses all over. This was a glorious day for the musician, his career was going really well, and he married the most beautiful girl.

“God, I love you.” Luke murmured to the girl in the white dress. Leaning closer for another kiss, Luke froze.

Digging into his ankle was a heavy object. Your nervous eyes glittered under the dimmed lighting in the limo. Never-ending eye contact Luke lifted a moderately heavy wooden chalkboard. Written on the sign was: ‘Unofficial flower girl or ring bearer’.

“Are you serious?” Luke asked gobsmacked at the news that heightened the greatness of his wedding day. Eyes flickering to meet yours he watched as your hand unzipped a hidden pocket on your dress.

Flat on your hand was a pregnancy test similar to the one you took months back. The only difference being this one had two lines.

“AS serious as a heart attack. There will be a baby Patterson in six months.” The laugh was joyful as your lips parted.

Luke wasted absolutely no time in setting his hand on the slight bump the dress had covered, “This is why you mentioned your dress being snugger?”

“Mhm.” You replied, stroking the softness of his cheekbone in pure love with him and the life you carried, “We’re in for a wild ride Patterson.”

“Bring it on.” Luke finished kissing your cheek as the limo came to a stop in front of a large venue. The duo you ran inside where your wedding guests threw paper airplanes that Reggie had suggested.

Each airplane had a personal note from your friends and family along that would be gathered into a binder. Reggie had found out that rice wasn’t good for birds and while the reception was inside, he couldn’t do it. So, he brought the idea of paper airplanes; in class, the boys would throw airplanes at each other. It was a nod to their adolescence.

“I present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patterson,” Alex announced into the microphone set on the stage with Sunset Curve’s instruments. It didn’t surprise anyone that the band would play at the wedding.

On the stage, a beautiful Hispanic woman played a soft piano ballad, if you could recall that maybe the bartender from the Orpheum. Her name was on the tip of your tongue as Luke twirled you into his arms with a big grin.

“Mrs. Patterson.” You hummed tugging him to the head table with where your wedding party would join as well. The second Luke helped you sit he knelt down to reach the box covertly placed.

Your eyebrows came together as he opened it, revealing two matching pairs of personalized vans; following the wedding theme one pair was white and another black. On the right shoe, it had ‘just married’ with the wedding date while the left shoe had a picture from your engagement pictures. Of course, Luke made them have Mr. and Mrs. above the image as well.

“How?” You breathed as Luke gently removed your heels to replace them with a thin pair of no-show socks. Over the socks went the white vans that gave your feet a break from the four-inch heels.

“We’re supposed to party now.” Luke beamed squeezing your hands in his only bending to kiss the back of each. His hazel eyes had shifted to a rich green as he stared up at yours with such a tender look, you could feel the heat building in your cheeks.

As your wedding party took their seats, Luke had already changed his shoes and pushed the box back under the table. His left hand refused to leave your right one as you both took in the magical room that had once only been a concept on paper.

“This is amazing.” You breathed leaning into Luke’s arm, sending a smile to the table near the front with both your parents, “Also thank you for the shoe surprise.”

“I am so happy they got done on time.” Luke sighed slouching in his seat, waving at the photographer you had hired.

If you can recall correctly, Luke had met him at a band photoshoot, and he was the assistant to the head photographer. You believe his name was Ray and incredibly talented and under-appreciated by his former boss.

“Did you let the photographer know we have an open bar?” You leaned over to your new husband with a flutter in your belly at his new title. The question turned the corners of Luke’s mouth for the first time that day.

“I find it unfair that we have an open bar and we can’t drink anything.” Luke snorted nudging Reggie in his side.

“Oh, I think we both know you’ll sneak some for the guys and you.” You chuckled leaning back in the chair. One hand resting on your stomach to caress the material with your thumb, unaware, “I’ll stick to the sparkling juice.”

Luke’s one eyebrow raised at the sudden change in your drink choice as in the past you wouldn’t turn down your favourite. His eyes shifted down to your hand with raised eyebrows.

“Wait…are you…?” Luke drawled out slowly in your ear taken aback when your head in a surreptitious manner. His jaw unhinged mind opened as he took in the tiny bump; in the years together, he was very acquainted with your body.

“We are. How cliché are we?” You laughed as Luke lunged to press a kiss to the supple skin lightly painted with foundation.

Your makeup was natural and straightforward to last longer for photos and make it through the dances for later. It was also Luke’s favourite look.

Dinner, the dances and speeches had sped by ending with both the bouquet toss and the garter toss. The guests mingled with the newlyweds as some danced, Emily had managed to drag Luke back on the floor.

“I’m proud of you, Luke.” Emily smiled up at her son, “And you said those dance lessons were a waste of time.”

A light pink flush took over the nineteen-year old’s full cheeks reminiscing the lessons he had taken with his mother. He had been eleven or twelve at the time when his father pulled a muscle at the worst time. The coupons nearly expiration Emily took Luke to the lessons that initially had been for date night.

“I think it helped with singing-“Luke instinctively cut himself off as he had done years before when music was a no go subject, “Sorry you don-“

“Luke, I can never explain how sorry I am about what happened. I was wrong to push you into a box you didn’t fit. Music is a part of you, and I understand now.” Emily squeezed the bicep of the guitarist, “Besides you’ll understand where we were coming from in a couple months.”

Luke’s jaw dropped at her announcement, “What.”

“Luke, I am a mother. I know the signs such as your wife turning down the wine.” Emily admitted stepping back from the boy that had so suddenly become a man before her very eyes.

No longer was he the chubby-cheeked boy running naked from his bath after splattering spaghetti sauce on himself. He had outgrown his interest in soccer and baseball with his little friends. He had matured into a man that lived up to Emily’s teachings. Luke, in her eyes, was now a man of honour, integrity, kindness and stood up for himself.

Emily and Mitch Patterson had done a fantastic job raising their son, but now they could step back. They would get to watch Luke find his way as a husband and a father.

“Hey, man,” Reggie spoke as Luke walked off the dance floor finding you among family congratulating the couple.

“Hey, Reg.” Luke beamed tugging the bassist into his arms for a tight hug. As the two boys leaned back, they looked over at their friend.

Alex discarded the pink suit jacket at the table in favour of leaning against the wall talking with the bartender. A smile blossomed on the two men’s faces as they took in that Alex was utterly relaxed in the conversation.

“They were hardcore flirting.” Reggie piped up, referencing the male bartender, “His name is Billy, I think.”

The bartender had shoulder-length dark hair pulled back in a bun with glittering brown eyes drowning in the shy blonde. He wore a dark shirt opened a few buttons with white detailing on it. A white necklace as well, but it was the lovesick smile Luke loved; Alex deserved happiness the most in Sunset Curve.

“He’s totally a skater.” Reggie spoke, “It’s a love story. He’s a skater boy, and he’d like to do ballet.”

“That would be a sick song. He was a punk, she did ballet.” Luke hummed to a melody created on the spot, “Not really our sound.”

“Someone will figure out a way to use it.” Reggie waved off, and he was right. A singer would use the exact lyric in her song ‘Sk8er Boi’ in 2002 when Sunset Curve would bump into her.

Slowly the boys of Sunset Curve found their way to the stage to perform a few songs directed towards you. At your urging, you had demanded they give a live performance of Unsaid Emily for your now mother-in-law. As they sang, you wrapped an arm, Emily, as she cried.

“This is his best work.” You mumbled to the older woman cupping her wet cheek leaning into the touch of her husband’s touch.

As soon as the song was over, Emily yanked her son into her arms both parties of the hug emotionally moved. It seemed the performance had shifted something in their relationship for the better. Luke didn’t need to explain as he pulled you into his side once more.

“Alex isn’t the only one that found someone.” You whispered, finding Alex and the bartender on break dancing on the edge of the dance floor. At your husband’s puzzlement, your finger pointed in the direction of the stage.

In a conversation photographer, Ray captivated the lead singer of the band you had hired when Sunset Curve didn’t play. Even Reggie seemed to have the attention of your twin showgirl cousins from Las Vegas.

“Love attracts love.” Luke simply spoke, wrapping his built arms around his wife, thinking back on the changes that had happened.

Luke hitting Reggie’s leg with the car at thirteen, finding each other at the concert a few years later, the accident that threatened the relationship. Proposing twice and finally marrying over a year later on the same day you confessed the pregnancy. So much had happened in such a fraction of time.

“I love you.” Luke murmured at the shell of your ear watching his friends have the time of their lives on a beautiful day in the summer of 1998.

Above are the example of the shoes that Luke got.

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#luke patterson imagines #julie and the phantoms imagines #jatp luke #luke patterson x reader #alive!luke patterson #charlie gillespie #caitsy and ash productions

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olivia-anderson-fanfic · 3 years

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Alt Ending, Part 5

Hot take but finals kinda suck

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Tag: @solangelo252

You’d think her body would be grateful that she was finally giving it food, but no. She put it in her mouth and instantly felt nauseous. It didn’t even want to go down her throat, and keeping it there felt basically impossible.

But Tim had looked so happy when she had tried, so she forced it down.

(Well, she forced some of it down. If he noticed that a good amount of the food she brought to her mouth actually disappeared into the sleeves and folds of her dress he didn’t say anything.)

Tim started coming by three times a day with food after that. She didn’t complain despite her discomfort, she had really missed him.

Also, he looked stressed out and/or exhausted whenever she saw him. She worried about him. They both had a tendency to overwork themselves when they hit blocks, hell she’d sometimes joined him in his week-long deep dives into cases, but now that she was an outsider looking in… she was kind of shocked she’d ever let it get that far for either of them. When was the last time he’d slept through the night? Taken proper time to clean himself, even? A while, she guessed from the deep bags under his eyes and the way his hair was frayed from running his fingers through it.

“Timmy,” she chirped.

He flashed her a tiny smile. “Hey,” he said, coming over and taking a seat beside her on the bed.

She took the bag from him and set it aside, much to his dismay, but then she reached over and dragged him into some cuddles and he suddenly had new concerns. He groaned into her shoulder.

“Bean, come on, I don’t want to sleep.”

She didn’t let go. “You need to.”

“Don’t have time.”

She rolled her eyes, bringing a hand up to start attempting to smooth out his hair. “You have to sleep eventually.”

“And I do!”

She didn’t answer, which he took to mean she didn’t believe him (a good assumption, she didn’t).

“I do! I get at least a few hours a week.”

“Wow, amazing. I take it back. You totally have a healthy sleep schedule.”

“Worry about yourself, first. You don’t sleep either,” he huffed, but he was starting to relax into her hold nonetheless.

“I’m also literally dead.”

“You used to say you’d sleep when you were dead.”

Marinette scoffed. “Well, to be fair, I thought I’d actually die when I died.”

He gave a short laugh, and she opted not to acknowledge that it was a little forced.

She yawned and laid back with his face in her shoulder. “I’m surprised none of the others have drugged you to get you to sleep yet.”

“They’re too busy drugging B --.” He winced just slightly. “They’ve just got a lot on their plates is all, I’m the least of their worries.”

She didn’t say anything about his tiny slip up, just gave a light hum to say she understood.

She didn’t dare to move until she was completely sure he had nodded off. Even then, she only did so to pick up the food he’d brought for her.

Her nose scrunched a little at the prospect of eating, but when she opened it and saw it was fried rice she perked up a little. She nibbled at her food.

Honestly, she didn’t know if it was working. It seemed to be, but then again most of the things that got better could be attributed to other causes. Her skin was gaining color again, but the bleach may have just started to wear out. She was feeling more energized, but then again she was now getting a total of four cups of coffee a day thanks to Tim and Jason fueling her addiction. Exercise was getting easier and she was packing on muscle again, but she was also working out enough with Dick for it to be explainable that way…

She didn’t know if it was working. She didn’t even know if she WANTED it to work. The plan had been ‘kill Bruce and then quickly off yourself before the others can react’ and not having an instant out was kinda problematic when it came to finishing that plan.

Not that the first part of that plan was working out for her, either. Bruce still hadn’t come to see her. She doubted he ever would at this point.

She didn’t even have a way out, as the door was automated and presumably opened by someone outside.

No. The only way she would ever leave was if she managed to ‘fix’ herself, and that wasn’t happening because there was nothing to fix! She would know. Her entire thing as Ladybug was fixing things.

She looked down at Tim. When he slept all the little wrinkles in his forehead smoothed to make him look much younger. She smiled a little at the sight, pressing a kiss to where she knew the creases usually were.

At least, even if her situation couldn’t be helped, she could still help others.

She’d come to expect a routine of sorts, so the moment it was broken even slightly her brain short-circuited.

Duke stood in the doorway as usual, but when she glanced past him…

“Where’s Cass?”

His grin disappeared a little, but he pulled his back to his face with ease. “Wow, I’m really feeling the love here, Mari.”

She rolled her eyes. “Please, we both know Cass is the best person to ever exist.”

Duke nodded his agreement and came over to take a seat next to her. She cozied up to him as usual, curled under his arm as he pulled up their newest show on his laptop…

She had a lot of thoughts about Cass being missing.

On the one hand, she just missed her friend’s too-warm body pressed up against her and quiet complaints about how the actors were doing it all wrong.

On the other hand… Marinette was completely aware that they had Cass stopping by as much as she did to check on Marinette, to see if they were making any real progress with her. Cass was a human lie detector, able to detect when someone was going to be dishonest before they’d even realized it themselves, and they’d be stupid not to take advantage that. So, the fact that they were no longer making Cass drop in as often… either they thought she was doing better, or that she never would do better.

Marinette hoped it was the first. She knew it was the second.

She found it harder than usual to enjoy Duke’s snide comments about how dumb and cliche some of the characters were. She turned and pressed her face into his side. The glasses on the bridge of her nose dug into her skin.

Fuck. She was never getting out of there, was she?

She felt his free hand come up to run through her hair and she sighed.

“Duke…”

He pressed pause on the show.

“Tim told me you’re a meta, that you can control light. Can you do it for me?”

There was a beat.

“Why do you ask?”

She laughed a little. “Does it matter? Can’t I just be curious about why my favorite brother didn’t even bother to tell me that he has powers?”

“I thought you already knew. It’s common knowledge.”

She huffed. “Maybe I just prefer to be told things than meticulously look through every piece of information to figure it out.”

“What kind of bat are you?” He joked.

She winced and the hand in his shirt balled it just a fraction tighter. She didn’t respond.

There was a few seconds before he sighed and moved his hand from his hair to her chin, gently pulling her face out of where it was hidden in his side. She refused to meet his eyes.

It was silent again, neither of them sure what to say.

“Here,” he said after a moment, putting his free hand out and making light dance across his palm.

Her face lit up, literally and figuratively, at the sight of the tiny ball of light. She leaned a little closer.

“Aw, it looks like a tiny sun!”

He laughed a little. “Yeah. I can also…”

There was a moment of silence as he concentrated and the tiny ball of light split into the colors of the rainbow. She giggled, reaching out to cup his hand in hers. It was the first non-artificial light she’d seen in months, the first rainbow she’d seen since… Paris, actually.

Well, even if she wouldn’t ever see the outside world again, at least she could still have this little fake sun. It was basically the same, just as good, she told herself. She ignored the tears rolling down her cheeks that were telling her otherwise.

She tossed the plastic spoon she’d stolen from one of her meals in the air idly.

The plan had been to turn it into Baby’s First Shank but that probably wasn’t going to work out. Pen to the throat was at about a .01% chance of working, attacking him with a spoon-knife needed a few more zeroes added to that already insanely small number. She gave it a .000000001% chance at best.

Then again, the other option was trying to strangle someone who had an insane height and weight advantage to death before someone else could interfere...

She sighed to herself and put the spoon in her teeth, starting to pull.

She didn’t get very far before she heard the metallic whoosh of the door opening and she barely glanced up to see Dick.

He stared at her from the doorway, his eyebrows slowly raising as he watched her attempt to bite an edge into a spoon of all things.

She pulled it from her mouth with a ‘pop’.

“I think your eyebrows are trying to escape,” she told him.

He blinked at her before rolling his eyes and walking inside fully. “Thanks for the assist. Would have lost them otherwise,” he said sarcastically.

“I’ve seen you lose your phone three minutes after putting it down, Dickie, I wouldn’t put it past you.”

He gasped and rested a hand over her heart. “You think that low of me?”

“Lower. I was being nice.”

Dick pouted and walked over to the bed. She didn’t think much of it until he was diving onto her stomach. She put her hands out in an attempt to soften the blow, but it wasn’t enough to save her. She groaned in pain as his extremely hard head made contact with her not-so-hard stomach.

“FUCK. This is why your parents called you Dick, y’know!”

He only laughed at her.

Despite herself, she gave him a smile.

She rested her head back in the pillows for a moment (mostly just to catch all the breath she’d lost) before pushing him off. “Ready?”

He groaned into her comforter before rolling onto the floor. “‘Kay.”

Marinette grinned as she took a seat beside him, starting her usual stretches. He pushed himself up to sit with minimal groaning and started working on his shoulders.

It was quiet for a while as they stretched.

Marinette bit the inside of her cheek and kept her eyes on her foot when she spoke next: “Dick?”

She could feel his gaze on her.

“I… can I have some more stuff? Everything here is so boring. I just… I want new things to do. Or, at least, new things to look at.”

There was a long silence between them. Anxiety bubbled under her skin. She switched legs so she could gauge his expression through her bangs. His expression was carefully neutral.

She cringed.

“Obviously I’m not ungrateful! You guys have all been really nice and accommodating! I get food and a phone and, honestly, that’s fine --!”

“Mari!”

Her mouth snapped closed.

“It’s fine. You don’t have to apologize. Anyone would be bored here. I can talk to them. It’ll probably depend on what you want.”

She finally looked at him properly, eyes wide. She really hadn’t been expecting that to work.

He slowly pulled his legs to him to sit criss-cross applesauce, head resting on his hand. “I can probably get some baking things, a sketchbook, just blunt objects in general. Deadly, but not before someone could get there.”

Marinette nodded her understanding, a smile making its way across her face.

“You’re the best.”

“You constantly say Duke and Cass are the best.”

She was torn between agreeing with herself and flattering him. Since she wanted something, she decided on flattery: “That was, like, a few hours ago. I’ve grown since then. You’re my favorite now, Dickie.”

“Can I get that as my ringtone?”

“Only if you only use it to mess with Jay.”

“Deal.”

They shook on it.

The door whoosed open and she barely moved her head to look at it.

She froze.

Bruce?

No. No way. There was no way in hell.

But was there? Cass HAD stopped coming. Maybe she had somehow convinced them that everything was working out and everything was fine.

Marinette hadn’t done anything differently, though, so that probably wasn’t it…

Oh. Oh shit.

Maybe she was actually going insane. Because there was no way the bats would have made that kind of mistake by letting Bruce in when she was still intent on murdering him. He had to be a hallucination, because nothing else really made sense. Kwami, Tim was going to be SO smug about this one.

Actually, no, he didn’t have to know.

Her gaze slipped away from Fake Bruce and back to the dots on her ceiling. Because, as everyone knows, that if you don’t acknowledge hallucinations they go away…

“Marinette,” Fake Bruce said, trying to trick her into outing herself as losing it.

“Marinette,” he tried again, starting his way over.

She did her best to ignore the footsteps and the way the bed shifted when he sat down. No wonder schizophrenics fell for this shit, this was all so real…

Except... weren’t schizophrenics not supposed to be able to tell what was real and what wasn’t? Wouldn’t her knowing (thinking?) he was fake be an indication that he was actually real? Or was that just her mind trying to justify believing it?

Marinette bit inside of her cheek and let herself look at Fake Bruce again.

He cracked a smile for her. A hand reached over and pushed some hair away from her face. “Hey,” he said.

She hesitated.

It would suck if this all was fake, the others would get confirmation and she really wouldn’t have a way out. But if it was real then this was her only shot. If it was real Cass would be watching the cameras to see what she was thinking and she would know for sure that Marinette was still intent on killing Bruce…

Fuck.

Marinette pushed herself into a sitting position and looked Maybe-Bruce up and down before grabbing him by the front of his suit and pulling him into a hug. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes when he hugged her back.

“Fake.”

The man tensed underneath her and then sighed as he pulled back.

He gave her an awkward smile. “I’m sorry, Marinette.”

She shook her head slightly and fell back. With a flick of her wrists the knife she’d created out of her plastic spoon was in her hands and she absently tossed it at the hallucination. Either it would make him disappear or it would look like it stabbed him and she could pretend that it actually happened.

But then it didn’t do either of those things.

Her eyebrows knit together when the spife shattered upon impact.

He looked unconcerned as he gently swept all the pieces into his hand and then put them in his pockets.

“The fuck?”

“Language,” he chided lightly.

She grinned. “You really need to work on your ‘Bruce’. Accepting a hug that quickly is one thing but chiding someone for language? In OUR family? I’m pretty sure he gave that up by Jason.”

The man chuckled and shook his head. “I’m Superman.”

“Oh.” She blinked a few times before shrugging to herself. “Okay. You look just like Bruce. It’s kinda creepy.”

“Yeah, trust me, we know. It’s pretty helpful, though. One time a person tried to assassinate Bruce and ended up fighting me. It wasn’t their day.”

She smiled a little, but it didn’t last very long. She fell back in her pillows and glared at the ceiling. “This sucks.”

“I’m sorry this all happened to you. You’re just a kid.”

She rolled her eyes. She’d long-since given up on denying that something had happened to her. Not because she no longer believed it, but because it wasn’t worth the effort. No one ever believed her when she said it.

(Could she blame them? No. She almost believed it herself just a few moments before. Still annoying, though.)

Instead of saying any of that, though, she brought a grin to her face.

“You and B should switch houses for April Fools. See if anyone notices anything.”

She really should have noticed something was up when her coffee didn’t energize her at all.

It had all been going fine. She was making Jason dispose of all the pieces of food she’d used sleight of hand to get away with not eating (she was still a little bitter about him stealing her pen and this was the most she could really do to get back at him, compromised as she was). They made idle conversation, mostly just about how Damian had got himself a new pet cat that he had named BatCat (though, apparently, they had heard him slip up and call him Charles a few times). They debated over how good that name was and the merit of Jason’s suggestion -- BatPussy, of course -- as she drank her third cup of coffee of the day.

It was about halfway through her drink that she began to notice that something was off. She squinted at Jason suspiciously.

“Decaf?” She asked, her voice worryingly sweet.

He raised his eyebrows and tried to look unimpressed despite stepping back a good half-step. “Please, if it was decaf classical conditioning still would’ve made it work at least a little.”

She opened her mouth to retort, then realized he was right. Or, at least, she was pretty sure. She couldn't seem to think of anything against it.

She frowned, looking down at her drink again and swirling the contents around. She drank the rest of it, trying to figure out why exactly it wasn’t working.

Was she already at the point where caffeine had little effect on her again? She didn’t think she was that bad yet… hell, she probably couldn’t be because she was depending on others to give her her fix…

She shook her head slightly and then quickly realized that was a bad idea. Pain stabbed through her skull and she stumbled into Jason. The plastic thermos slipped from her fingertips and went rolling across the floor. Her head crashed into his chest and arms were quick to wrap around her.

“You got shitty coffee, try a different place next time,” she murmured, closing her eyes.

He laughed a little. “Yeah, okay, kid. I’ll be sure to do that.”

She nodded as much as her headache would allow and felt the arms around her slip down to pick her up. She blinked her eyes open blearily and regretted it when the light attempted to murder her via knife to the head.

Heh. Little light particles with little knives.

Wait.

Did she get a concussion? Somehow? Without getting hit?

She buried her face in his shoulder and it was then, as he set her in bed and tucked her in, that she realized what had happened.

“Bitch,” she murmured above whatever drug they had put in her drink.

He pressed a kiss to the crown of her head and she could do little more than scrunch up her nose and vaguely wave him off. Her eyes fell closed again.

Marinette woke up a while later.

The first thing she noticed was that the lights were dimmer, something she didn’t have to open her eyes to see because her head wasn’t pounding as much.

Then she realized a person was with her. They had entwined themselves around her, tangled their limbs with hers. They needn’t have bothered, everything felt like lead. She wouldn’t be moving for quite some time.

… why was she being held down? Oh no. That was probably bad, huh?

Marinette made a sound in the back of her throat and started trying to shift away from the person pressed against her back. She needed to see who they were. They didn’t bother to tighten their hold on her, she wasn’t really getting anywhere.

In fact, a hand stopped holding her down. Instead, it came up to pet her hair.

Oh? This was nice.

A voice by her head told her it was all okay. After a moment she realized she recognized that voice. She smiled sleepily. Cass. She liked Cass. She pressed closer to her and was rewarded with a hand rubbing up and down one of her arms.

She nearly fell asleep again. Cass was safe, Marinette was safe… the warmth against her and the soothing touch… of course, it certainly helped that the drug was still in her system and she was exhausted...

But then her mind wandered back to her first question. Why WAS Cass holding her down? Why did they drug her in the first place?

She moved so her hair could block some of the light and then cautiously cracked her eyes open.

The batboys were all moving things inside almost silently. Jason was carrying an entire fridge on his own. Dick and Damian were arguing over the positioning of the table they had just brought in through angry hand motions. Tim and Duke were working together on… was that a gaming set?

And she was being held down because the door was wide open.

Marinette looked at the doorway for just a moment longer. She allowed herself to imagine getting out and swinging through the city with her lasso, allowed herself to pretend she could lay in the grass, allowed herself to believe that she could see the sun and the stars and just breathe fresh air again…

And then she closed her eyes and sunk into Cass’s grip.

What was the point in trying? Even if she could somehow beat out all six of the people in the room with her and get past whatever security Bruce had to have outside of the room all while drugged… then what? No money or idea where she was… and she’d be running from the bats of all people…

Yeah. Useless. She curled up and allowed sleep to take her again.

Quite a while later she woke up and blinked a few times when she realized she wasn’t the only person in bed. At first she thought it was just Cass or Tim, they were the most likely culprits, but then she realized everyone had managed to cram themselves onto the bed with her. Her and Cass had gotten brushed to the side of the bed to make space for Tim, Dick, and Damian. Jason had collapsed across the end of the bed -- presumably for space, but Duke was laying half on top of him so that obviously hadn’t worked out.

Marinette smiled faintly and buried her face back into the crook of Tim’s neck.

When she woke up again, most of the drug flushed from her system (somehow…?), she thought she was alone.

This was fine. She was able to stretch out and sit up.

She blinked when she saw Damian, who was sitting on her floor and playing a video game.

Huh? Video game?

She looked around her room confusedly. The bats had basically made her a one-room apartment, complete with kitchenette and a tiny study area. Of course, it was much higher quality than the apartment she’d had, with a high tech gaming system and a little dining area and holy shit that was a MINI LIBRARY?

Wild.

“You’re finally up.”

She hummed lightly as an agreement. She crawled over to the end of the bed and smiled when he handed her a twizzler. It was objectively one of the worst candies, but she liked having something to do. She twirled it in her hand idly.

“Do you think… do you think it’s working?”

She frowned confusedly and dropped off the bed to sit beside him on the second beanbag chair. She chanced a quick glance in his direction to gauge how he was feeling... his expression didn’t let anything on other than that he was thinking hard, though she was pretty sure that was about the game.

“Gonna elaborate on that?”

He clicked his tongue. “Are you going to join the Undead Robins Club?”

She grinned at him. “I wasn’t a Robin.”

“You know what I mean.”

Her smile disappeared a little and she trained her eyes on the game. “I don’t know.”

“You know we never will know for sure, right?”

She blinked. She hadn’t expected anyone to acknowledge it. They were the bats, they were never going to chance taking off her glasses because if they were wrong and she WASN’T better… well, it wasn’t the kind of mistake they could easily come back from.

“Yeah, I know,” she said after a few moments.

“Do you care?”

“Doesn't really matter if I do. It won’t change anything.”

He frowned. “That’s not answering my question.”

She bit her cheek. “I… yes. I care. It still doesn’t matter.”

He looked like he was going to argue, but instead he just went back to playing the game.

“Damiiiiiiiii…” she whined and, when he gave a vague grunt to show he was paying attention, she continued with “... shouldn’t I get to play first? It’s mine.”

“You slept in too long,” he said without looking up.

She huffed. “Only ‘cause I was drugged!”

“Unfortunate.”

She got off the beanbag chair and whacked him over the head with it. He barely acknowledged it outside of an annoyed click of his tongue.

She huffed and pulled the chair back to herself to sit again. “Is it two player?”

“Nope.”

“You’re a bitch.”

He clicked his tongue again.

She pouted for a little while longer before looking back at the screen with a smile. “... heard you got a cat named Charles. Wanna talk about him?”

Damian’s face lit up. “Can I?”

“Only if you let me play.”

He looked pained. If he gave it to her then he’d be giving her something she’d want, which was a sibling no-no, but if he didn’t then she probably wouldn’t listen to him gush about his cat. A few moments went by before he reluctantly handed over the controller.

She beamed and scooted her chair over to rest her head on his shoulder. She could feel him stiffen underneath her but, when she didn’t move again outside of what was necessary to play the game, he relaxed again.

“I thought you were going to listen,” he chided lightly when she didn’t take a break between levels.

“I can listen and play.”

Damian sighed a little and shook his head.

“You don’t have to talk about him if you don’t want --.”

“I’m getting to it! So, he’s a black cat that apparently hadn’t been adopted because everyone thought he was evil so the pet store was going --.”

Marinette noticed something was up the minute the door opened.

First of all, it was Duke and Damian. That’s all that really needs to be said. Those two together… it’s never a good thing.

Secondly, they were there as Signal and Robin. Most of the time the others avoided even talking about their lives as vigilantes for fear of setting her off in one way or another, but here they were showing up in their suits? No, something weird was going on.

“Hey, Mari, can we skip a fight and you just put a bag over your head and let us pick you up?” Tried Duke.

Her eyebrows furrowed. “You want to…? Huh?”

“We don’t really have much time to explain. I’ll tell you on the way.”

Damian held up a potato sack and some twine, which really wasn’t all that encouraging.

She hesitated. “... what’s something only you two would know?”

“Really?” Said Damian with more than a little exasperation.

“Hey, we’re all bats here. I’m not moving until you prove you’re who you say you are.”

(Technically, if they were really Duke and Damian, they could fight her and do it anyways. She probably couldn't beat both of them at once. Still, that kind of fight would hurt all of them and she really didn’t want to have to do it at the moment.)

Duke hesitated before shrugging. “Your favorite ice cream flavor is mint. Which I don’t understand. Just brush your teeth if you like that taste so much.”

Marinette rolled her eyes. “Alright, you’re who you say you are. Robin?”

“… early on I lied and said that Nightwing’s real hero name was actually BatNightwing to mess with you both.”

She frowned. “I forgot about that. You’re a dick.”

“No, Nightwing’s a Dick. He’s a Damian.”

Marinette was THIS CLOSE to fighting them anyways.

But she didn’t. She was kinda curious about where all this was going. So, she allowed them to bind her hands and slip a bag over her head. Arms wrapped around her -- she didn’t really care who it was -- and she was lifted off the ground. Then, they were walking.

Part of her wondered if this was some kind of test. They were checking to see how compliant she was or how likely she would be to run once outside. Maybe they had Superman on call in case she tried to escape.

She really couldn’t tell.

She didn’t think that they had any reason to take her out of the perfectly safe and well-stocked place they had put her in.

Maybe her location had been compromised and they were moving her to a backup? No, that didn’t make sense. Duke made sense for transport, Damian didn’t. Damian was one of the worst fighters in the family (he was in no way BAD at fighting, of course, it was just a byproduct of being in the game the shortest amount of time and not being a meta) and he was the second most likely person to end up fighting her after Jason. What the fuck?

Wait, Duke said he’d explain on the way.

“What’s going on?”

“New idea on how to bring you back,” said Duke simply.

Well, she guessed that was more information than she’d previously had. She’d take it for now.

She heard a quiet whooshing noise and frowned confusedly, only to feel herself get set down… somewhere. She felt carpeting underneath her, which meant she was in… a house? No. A car, she thought as she noticed the quiet hum of an engine. She’d been put in the fucking trunk. She kicked out as much as she could without knowing exactly where they were and gave a cry of protest, but then the lid was clicked over her head and she was thrown into uncomfortably complete silence.

She scowled to herself. She shouldn’t have thrown her spife at Superman, it would have been really useful right then. She tested the bindings against her hands and winced at how tight they were. Did they really use zip ties? Those were notoriously bad for circulation.

… oh. Yeah. She was dead. That actually wasn’t that bad, then.

Still annoying. Hard to get out of. Assholes. She wondered if it was worth dislocating her arms…

Yeah. Probably. If she could get out then she would be OUT.

She flipped herself onto her stomach. She pulled her feet up to her arms and then started pushing back. Her body strained in protest and she bit down on the front of the bag over her head to stop herself from making any sounds.

And then she felt a pop in her left shoulder and a flare of pain and the makeshift gag wasn’t enough to hold back her sobs. Her arm throbbed and it was only made worse when they reached the city proper and the roads started getting choppy. Every little bump in the road sent a new wave of pain rolling through her and all she could do was ride it out.

They started hitting smoother roads what felt like hours later... it was kind of concerning because she had no clue where they could be, those were uncommon in Gotham, but at least she no longer felt like she was going to die every few seconds.

She took a few seconds to bring her breathing back to normal before she started slowly wiggling her arms out under her butt and legs and then they were in front of her. Great. She picked herself up as much as she could in the tiny space, checked her angle mentally, relaxed her muscles, and then dropped down on her shoulder to get it back in place.

She breathed out a sigh of relief. It felt weird and still kind of hurt but at least it was mostly better.

She pulled the bag off of her head and relished in the slightly fresher air.

She looked down at the zip ties on her wrists and she sighed a little. Time to do that hack that looked stupid but actually worked if the kidnappers were stupid enough to leave you alone.

She brought her feet up, untied the laces of her shoes, and tied them back around the ties. Then she set to work trying to saw at the zip tie.

She paused when she heard the low rumbling of a plane. Were they near an airport? Oh. That was going to be a problem. She went faster.

Unfortunately, Marinette didn’t get very far before there was a click and the trunk opened.

She cried out in pain at the sudden light and squeezed her eyes shut, turning to press her face into the carpeted interior.

Hands grabbed her and pulled her out of the trunk. Before she could do much to look around so she could get her bearings and make herself a portal, the bag was forced over her head again and a strong grip on her arm (the good one, thankfully) kept her from pulling it off again. Then someone knelt in front of her and fixed her shoelaces.

“Really, NightMare?” Duke said, unimpressed.

“In my defense, I was left unsupervised.”

Damian scoffed.

Someone picked her up again and she sighed as they carried her along. They were definitely at an airport. She could hear people milling about. She was sure it was Gotham, too; she could feel a few stares, but most people seemed comfortable with the vigilantes among them.

Then came the normal airport stuff. Walking. Some arguing over whether she counted as luggage or if she could go through the metal detector with them. Sitting. A little chatting with civilians. More walking. More sitting. Very light chatter, just formalities and asking for drinks (Duke, who she figured out was the person carrying her, slipped a box of orange juice up her bag so she could have something). And then they were in the air.

After some time in the air the bag and zip ties were removed. She kept her eyes closed to let them adjust to light naturally and instead focused on rubbing feeling back into her hands.

One English alphabet later, she opened her eyes.

They were in a private plane (or was it a jet?), which explained why it was as quiet as it was. Damian was drinking a glass of water and reading something on his phone. Duke was nibbling at some complimentary pretzels and working a Rubix Cube. They both glanced in her direction from time to time, but they seemed pretty confident that she couldn’t do anything while they were in the air (which was true, but annoying).

She looked around a little more and found that there were no other bats.

“Um… where’re…?” She trailed off, unsure.

They stopped glancing in her direction, ignoring her and her question. The frown that had been on her face since pretty much when they’d first taken her from the room deepened.

“Do they… do they know what’s going on?”

The silence spoke volumes.

She rested her head in her hand. “I’m going to need something stronger than a juice box for this.”

Duke sighed but called a friendly looking woman inside to get her some wine. Marinette and Duke sipped at a glass each (Damian wasn’t allowed any, something Marinette took a little too much joy in). She scrutinized the two over the rim of her glass.

“Are you going to explain or let me guess? Because letting me guess is going to end up with me assuming you’re doing something way worse than you actually are.”

Damian sighed a little. “It’s hard to explain.”

“We’re in a plane. I’m going to guess we have time. Start talking.”

“We drugged them all -- except Orphan, she’s just out doing patrols and won’t know what’s going on for a good few hours -- and grabbed you.”

Duke gave Damian a pleading look to make him continue for them.

Damian, reluctantly, put down his phone to talk. “Signal and I have an idea on how to bring you back from the dead. The others won’t like it, especially not Red Hood, so we’re making the executive decision to not ask.”

Marinette didn’t know a lot about when Jason had been resurrected, it was a sensitive subject so it was avoided pretty much at all costs. All she’d gathered was that it was a rather messy experience for everyone involved.

She rested her head on her hand and then looked back down at her drink. She snatched the bottle from the table and, when Duke protested, set him a glare and started drinking directly from it. They were actually going to bring her back through probably shady means. She was NOT drunk enough for this shit.

She got stuffed in a suitcase when they left, which was extremely insulting (and a little embarrassing, if she were honest).

She rested her head against the side of the suitcase and listened to the dull thrum of people talking on the other side. She vaguely recognized the language, both Nino and Damian both spoke it when frustrated, but the words were all Greek to her.

Well, they were all Arabic, but you get the point.

She didn’t even realize she had been asleep until she was awoken. Rather abruptly. The zipper for the suitcase was opened and she tumbled out. Marinette cursed in French as she hit the ground and laid there, her entire body aching from not moving for so long. She hadn’t known her face could get pins and needles, she wished she could go back to her blissful ignorance.

“Are you sure about this? You want to save her?” A woman’s voice said above her, sounding a little skeptical.

Marinette forced herself to roll over so she could glare at whoever it was, she knew when she was being insulted, and then she blinked up at the new person.

A tall woman with dark skin and hair and a body to die for stood above her, hands on her hips.

“Holy shit, Dami. You got terrible genes. She’s gorgeous and you’re… you? What?”

Duke hid laughter behind his hand and Damian scoffed.

Amusement flickered behind Talia’s ‘I could kill you before you could even scream’ expression. “I’ve changed my mind. I like her.”

“Cool,” said Marinette as she quickly pushed herself to her feet. Her body wasn’t ready for that, but that was the least of her concerns. The pretty lady was ushering her along and Marinette wasn’t going to hold her up if she could help it.

“How did you die?” Talia said, which was an interesting choice for conversation.

Marinette shrugged, though, unconcerned. “I don’t know, really, there wasn’t this ‘oh, wow, I’m dead’ moment. My guess is I either drowned in acid or died of dehydration at some point. Does it change anything or…?”

“No. Just curious.”

“Oh. Good.”

“... do you not know why you’re here?” Asked Talia carefully after a moment’s contemplation.

Marinette shook her head. “Nah, they’ve been avoiding telling me. I assume it’s painful.”

“... yes. Very.”

The four lapsed into silence after that.

Marinette felt weirdly on edge as they walked through the facility, her hands rubbing the goosebumps that were prickling along her arms. The further they walked, the more on edge she felt. They were approaching something unnatural, something so undeniably WRONG, and she needed to GO.

But Damian and Duke were behind her, probably sensing her unease, and running ahead would only get her there faster… so she walked.

She bit the inside of her cheek in an attempt to ground herself.

But, the moment they stepped into the room, she froze.

Green water. That apparently hurts.

Acid.

“FUCK.”

Duke was ready for her to run, apparently, stood in front of the only exit and ready for a fight before she could even get a full step away from the hell that awaited her.

“No no no no no no wait it’s fine I actually don’t mind being dead it’s fine guys please --.”

Damian grabbed her arms and she choked out a sob,

“Damian god damn it I was kidding about the mom thing you’re perfectly attractive or whatever I promise I really didn’t think it would hurt you that much we don’t need to do this let’s tALK IT OUT --!”

“It’s not about that --!”

Duke managed to get a hold on one of her legs and lifted and all she had to struggle against either of them was a foot and she was SO fucked --.

“PLEASE DUKE PLEASE I DON’T KNOW WHAT I DID BUT I PROMISE I CAN BE BETTER YOU DON’T HAVE TO DO THIS PLEASE PLEASE LET ME GO I’LL BE FINE WE CAN FIGURE SOMETHING OUT PLEASE --.”

Talia grabbed her last leg and she sobbed as she thrashed around uselessly. They started dragging her towards the acid. Nothing to do no way to run no help in sight no --.

“PLEASE! I PROMISE I’LL BE BETTER PLEASE JUST LET ME GO!”

And they did. They let her go and she fell into the acid.

#did i forget what the name of this was at some point #maybe #its whatever #alternate ending #alternative ending #marinette dupain cheng #ladybug #harley quinzel #harley quinn #joker #maribat

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collecting-stories · 3 years

Text

3am Friend - c. 01 - Topper Thornton

Summary: Topper and y/n have been in a “friends with benefits” relationship since September but the line between friendship and something more are already starting to blur.

A/N: This is basically four chapters: Fall, Winter, Spring, and Summer. Also it’s going to be a bit of a practice run at writing more smut for me lol. Also it’s smut like, right under the cut lol.

Sophomore Year Masterlist | Outer Banks Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

What were you doing with your life...

You bit down on your bottom lip to stifle a moan as Topper’s tongue pressed against your clit, the cold tiled wall of the shower stall pressing into your back had your skin erupting in goosebumps, a contrast to the almost burning water that was hitting you. It was futile to bother concealing whatever noises Topper managed to pull out of you, the curtains of the shower stalls did little to shield their occupants from the rest of the communal bathroom, the plastic more often than not creating the perfect outline of whoever decided to use the showers. There would be no mistaking you, pressed against the wall, one leg tossed over Topper’s shoulder, his own figure silhouetted, kneeling in front of you with his hands digging into your hips.

If anyone did find you there was a 90% chance that they weren’t just going to let you off with a ‘sorry for intruding while some guy eats you out in the shower’ but any concern you actually had about the consequences of your hookup had died the minute Topper had joined you in the shower stall. Technically he’d texted you to come over to his dorm, he lived right off the main campus, close to your building, in a still operational fraternity house. He split a room with some guy who liked to stare but never actually talk when you came around. Yours was not a relationship of anything substantial. You’d hooked up with Topper at a party and exchanged numbers and, two days later, responded to a very obvious booty call at one in the morning.

“Holy shit!” You cursed, your voice coming out an octave higher than usual, fingers gripping Topper’s short blond hair. You could feel every muscle in your body tense as you tried to keep yourself upright, your other hand grabbing hold of the dial on the faucet in a desperate attempt to not completely fall apart as Topper sucked on your clit. He had moved one of his hands at some point, middle finger now moving rhythmically in and out of your entrance, working you through an orgasm.

When you came down, your muscles relaxing and you pushing back against the wall to keep yourself steady, leg slipping off Topper’s shoulder, he stood up. He caged you in almost immediately, moving as close as possible in the stall and kissing you, the salty taste of cum still there on his mouth. “That pad really comes in handy,” he teased, referring to the silicone mat you’d bought two weeks earlier to scrub your feet without trying to do a yoga pose in the shower.

You hummed, “I’ll leave that in my review on Amazon. Great for not bruising your knees.” When he kissed you again you smiled, eyes fluttering closed for a split second. This was the worst part. The part when you ran out of things to say and he would untangle himself from your arms and leave, promise to text you later.

It was the thing that your roommate had warned you about in the beginning that you had ignored.

“That’s like, not even friends with benefits though.” She had admonished when you told her for the first time that you had started this bizarre relationship with Topper. “I mean, you’re literally having casual sex with some rando guy that you hooked up with at a party. At a frat party. Do you even fucking know anything about him?”

“I know his name,” you had replied, rummaging through your closet to find something to wear to class, “and his phone number so I can booty call him.”

“Brilliant.” She snapped, “he could be some fucking weirdo axe murderer preying on college girls.”

You rolled your eyes, “he’s the same age as us.” You had never been one for casual sex in your life until this point and you weren’t sure why it seemed enticing now but you wanted to branch out a little. You’d gotten your first boyfriend in ninth and you’d stuck with him until August of this, your sophomore year of college. He broke up with you, claiming the distance between your school and his was too much for him to deal with.

It was your roommate that had dragged you to the party at the fraternity house, claiming that it would get your mood up after the guy you’d been with for the last five years decided he couldn’t do the 2 hour commute between your school and his. Three shots of tequila later and the blond you couldn’t take your eyes off of asking if you wanted to ‘go somewhere quiet’ were all the motivation you needed to put the past behind you and stop groveling over a guy who wasn’t even there.

Still, the fact remained, even now as Topper put his hands on your hips, looking at you through the mirror and kissing the back of your head, you knew that casual sex was not your forte. Not simply because you had never done it before but because you found yourself craving those small, just after when the bubble had broken yet and there was still some lingering affection, moments as much as you craved the sex. But you had both agreed, casual. Something to take your mind off school for a few hours, a stress relief. For you it was more than that. You’d never been the most confident when it came to sex or your body, all that self-love/self-care crap was wasted on you and your gnawing insecurities. Having casual sex was like constantly challenging yourself to be your most exposed and most intimate with someone who was still relatively a stranger to you.

“You know I think it was technically supposed to be my turn,” you mentioned, running the wide-toothed comb through your hair. You should’ve detangled in the shower except that wasn’t really top priority. What would you even say, ‘oh, would you mind not eating me out for a second so I can brush my hair’…you’d live with the awkward waves that dried in.

“I thought we switched.” Topper shrugged, pulling his sweatpants back on. His shirt went over his head and you involuntarily pouted at the mirror, there went the view.

“No, I said…this doesn’t technically count.” You replied, referring to the party three nights earlier and the head you’d given to avoid having actual sex on your period. You were at the tail end and you’d contemplated not going to the frat house at all but changed your mind at the last moment.

“Hey, if you’re offering, I’m not gonna turn you down.” He joked.

You turned to look at him, the mirror not sufficing as you stuck your tongue out playfully. “I have a test tomorrow, I have to study.”

“Come over, you can study in my room. We’ll hang out.”

“We are incapable of hanging out Topper.” You replied, grabbing your shower caddy and heading for the door. He walked right out after you, both of you ignoring the rather appreciative stare of one of the other girls on your floor.

“Not true,” he’d suffered a nasty break-up in high school that he gave no more background to other than to say she had cheated on him extensively. Casual seemed to be the best he could allow himself to do though you weren’t sleeping with anyone else and, as far as you knew, neither was he.

Your roommate looked up from her desk, rolling her eyes at the sight of Topper following you into your dorm. In the beginning of September, when this first started, it felt like you only ever disappeared at night. You saw Topper when he texted you and you might smile in the café but you never actively sought each other out. Now it was creeping toward November though, with Halloween right around the corner, and Topper felt like an accessory. He was always right there wherever you were, not that you were complaining. To anyone on the outside you looked like a couple but you both maintained the friends with benefits story.

“Oh look who it is.” Almost two whole months of him and your roommate still greeted Topper with a disdainful glare. She was fervent in her belief that the guy you thought was damn near perfect (if only he’d actually date you) was hiding some deep-seated flaw.

“Hey G,” Topper greeted, taking a seat on your bed as if he couldn’t tell just how annoyed your roommate was.

Geena and you had been thrown together after enduring a freshman year from hell. Her roommate from the year prior had been awful, like caging yourself in with some 00’s mean girl who only found satisfaction in watching you suffer. Your own freshman roommate had been neurotic about the dorm and constantly scrutinized whether your cleaning methods were sufficient. Geena was a blessing, you got along well, hung out all the time, had become fast friends in the short time since the beginning of the semester. Topper was the only thing you didn’t agree on. She thought it was unhealthy, that it would only lead to heartbreak.

“You can’t have casual sex with a guy for three years…people already think you’re dating. Some girl I don’t even know asked me if I could get her into a Phi Sig party next week cause my roomie is dating one of the guys.” There was a new reason almost daily with Geena, like she tore away a new page on the calendar and it offered up cons to your relationship with Topper in lieu of a word for the day.

“I can ask for her.”

“Oh my god, that is not the point.” She snapped.

You sighed, “I don’t really care if people think we’re dating.”

“Why?” She asked the question so smugly you already knew where she was going with this. And you knew why it didn’t bother you that people thought you were dating, why you sometimes even fanned that flame.

“G-“

“No, tell me why? People usually keep that shit quiet so they can hook-up with other people too. So why don’t you care?”

“Because if people think we’re dating…they won’t try to date him.” You shrugged, practically mumbling the last part. You hated that she knew that off the bat, that she could tell that you liked him so much in such a short span of time. And you knew she had a point to all her antagonizing. You had been in too deep since two weeks into September when he told you that you looked pretty in something your ex always said made you look fat.

You held the seam of your towel shut as you rummaged through the set of plastic drawers underneath your bed. Geena had done the bed on risers thing for optimal storage and you had followed along, semi grateful for the added space since both of you seemed inclined to transport your entire bedroom with you. Topper’s foot nudged your side as you got closer to him and you looked up, matching his smile when you caught him staring at you. You were sure Geena was sitting behind you rolling her eyes.

“Guess I’ll go grab something to eat.” She announced, as if your very presence had worn her down.

“I’m just getting changed, I think we’re heading over to Topper’s.” You replied, looking back over your shoulder at her.

Geena scrunched her nose and stood up anyway, “still would rather not be here while you got dressed so I don’t have to pretend like I can’t see this one leering at you.” She shot Topper a look of contempt as she passed. If it was real, if he asked you out and he was really, actually, your boyfriend, Geena was positive she’d have no problems with him. He seemed like alright and he certainly made you happier and more confident than she’d seen you in the beginning of the year. But she hated the thought of you getting hurt and didn’t want to be just sitting on the sidelines watching it happen.

“I don’t leer.” He joked, turning back to you once she was out the door, “I don’t leer.”

You didn’t answer, instead grabbing your underwear out of the top drawer and pulling them on once the door was shut. The first time you had ever gotten dressed with Topper around you’d made sure that you were obscured from view, still too bashful and self-conscious of the way that you looked without clothes on. There was still that split second moment when you doubted yourself, when you thought about maneuvering your towel to hide your body from view, as if after two months Topper might suddenly look at you and decide he didn’t like the softness of your stomach or the width of your hips or any other imperfection you could find.

You pushed through the voice though, dropping your towel and getting dressed. When you reached for the bralette your tossed on the bed beside him you realized he was looking at you. “G might have a point, maybe I should turn around.” You teased, his eyes snapping up to meet yours.

“I’m admiring the view.” Topper replied, not at all embarrassed at being caught.

You rolled your eyes, pulling your bralette on and adjusting your boobs until it sat right. “I don’t even know why I’m putting this on,” you mentioned, grabbing his sweatshirt to pull on over it, “I should just stop wearing underwear to your room and then I won’t ever lose it.”

“You lose stuff? Whose wearing my hoodie right now?” He asked, grabbing the edge of the hood to pull you closer to him.

“Your room has swallowed three of my bras...the nice ones too. Or Will like, took them.” You said.

If there was some kind of formal set of rules that you and Topper had ever thought to draft, kissing outside of actually having sex with each other should have qualified as a major no. But nothing of the sort had ever been discussed and now, Topper leaned over, stealing a quick kiss before he got off your bed. Maybe now didn’t count as a ‘just friends’ moment though since technically you were heading back to his room, presumably to have sex. To finish what he’d started when he showed up seconds before you got a shower.

“What would Will need your bras for?”

“To masturbate over? Who knows...all I’m saying is, I wear bras to your room, I never seem to leave with them.” You replied.

“I promise I will find all your missing bras today, okay?” He grabbed your lanyard off the hook, keys and wallet all in one place, pulling the door open for you. “Wanna grab pizza later?”

You chewed on your bottom lip, waiting a beat to answer him. Grabbing pizza meant, inevitably, hanging out after. Becoming friends was unavoidable, there was no way that either of you could have navigated sleeping together without some sort of relationship forming. So far it was only friendship, or at least that was all either of you were willing to let it be. Anything more than that meant an actual romantic relationship forming, something you wanted but were determined not to let yourself even entertain the idea of.

“Fine but not from that place by Barnaby's.” You replied, pushing the door open and stepping out into the quad with him. The local bar was always teeming with college students and the last thing you wanted was someone recognizing Topper, because everyone always seemed to recognize Topper, and invite the two of you in.

“We’ll just get it delivered.” He shrugged.

The first time you met Topper, enough to tequila to not make you totally embarrassed as you danced with Geena in the main room of the Phi Sig frat house, you had laughed when he told you his name. It was a combination of the heels you borrowed from another girl on your floor and the alcohol that had you losing your footing, catching yourself in time not to smash your whole body into a coffee table, and landing on the couch beside Topper. He was taking a sip of beer and looked relatively startled when some almost drunk girl fell into the spot next to him.

“Sorry!” You’d shouted over the bass as you tried to undo the straps of the heels that you were sure were also guilty of twisting your ankle.

When he introduced himself two sentences later, “I’m Topper” you couldn’t resist a good dad-joke and smiled at him, “but I hardly know her!”

“Amazing.” He had been less amused by the joke than you were though he didn’t really seem bothered by it, at least not bothered enough to move on because he stayed on the couch for three more turns of the conversation before asking if you wanted to talk elsewhere. You were sober enough to know exactly what he meant and obliged because you were still kinda pissed at your ex and you didn’t want this year to pass the same as last year had, with nothing but school work to show as a passing of time.

At least you’d have a good story to tell.

Highschool you had a healthy apprehension of frat houses and the people who lived in them. You’d seen enough episodes of CSI, Law and Order, Veronica Mars, and any other crime show that existed in the early 00’s to know that frat houses were breeding grounds for terrible things. Your parents had even attempted to sway you from going to your first-choice college simply because the greeks still existed on campus. You could only imagine what they’d think now, knowing that you had spent more time in Topper’s room than you had in your own in the last month at least.

Frat houses might’ve been sordid in your mind but so far, your reality of this one was exactly what it looked like on the surface, a bunch of guys living together with limited supervision. You still stuck to Topper whenever you were inside but you’d never had a problem with anyone in there and you rightly assumed that most of them just figured you were his girlfriend.

“Will told me he wants that TA position next year, with Prof Berkley.” You mentioned, flopping back onto Topper’s bed and tilting your head so you could look over to the empty other side of the room that belonged to his roommate. Aside from staring at you too much and possibly stealing your bras, you still had a hunch that Topper was just messing with you and had them stashed away somewhere, Will was alright. You were both in the same area of study, pre-law, and he had told you days earlier that he was gunning for the same TA position with your advisor as you were.

“I don’t know anything about it.” Topper replied, kicking his slides off and climbing onto his bed with you. The countdown in your head started now, hopefully soon you would be naked.

“Yes, you do because I literally told you about it at breakfast.” You pointed out. He’d texted you that morning to get coffee with him and you ignored Geena when she told you that sex-friends don’t get coffee together. “I said I was applying for the TA spot because it’s a massive opportunity.”

“Sounds like something I don’t have an opinion on.” He said, rolling over so that he could kiss you. “Enough chit-chat.”

“You’ve got a one-track mind Thornton.” You joked, moving your arms above your head as he pulled his sweatshirt off of you.

“Well can I interest you in getting on that track with me?” He replied, lips brushing over your neck as he spoke. You hadn’t bothered to put on any makeup before you left your dorm, you hadn’t even bothered to dry your hair all the way. But who were you to worry about things like that when Topper was pushing your bralette up over your head.

You jerked slightly, wriggling around on the bed when the fabric got caught half way up your arms, binding them above your head and covering your face, Topper taking advantage of the moment and sucking one of your nipples into his mouth, tongue swirling around it as you arched your back into him. “Topper!” You whined.

He hummed, pulling away from you to take the bralette the rest of the way off and tossing it off the bed, “sorry, couldn’t resist.” He said, smiling at you as if he truly couldn’t resist. The thought made butterflies erupt in your stomach.

You didn’t let yourself have the moment though, pulling him in for a kiss the moment he had untangled you, hand on the back of his neck as you ran your tongue against his bottom lip, biting gently as you pulled away. Topper held himself up on one elbow, his other hand pushing passed your sweatpants.

“Always right down to business,” you teased.

“What do you want me to take you out first?” He was joking, you knew that, but the way he said almost sounded like he truly would take you out if you wanted him to. But then what would this be, if you had dinner before you hooked up.

“Some foreplay would be nice.” You kept the conversation light, the way you always did, and he laughed.

“I thought the shower was foreplay.”

You would’ve answered, thought of something witty to make him laugh again, but he had pushed your underwear to the side, fingers pushing passed your folds to brush your clit. He made the same satisfied hum that he always did when he realized that you were wet, like a quiet pat on the back. His middle finger circled your clit, a barely there shudder of nerves setting off in your stomach as you moaned.

“I was supposed to,” you managed as he shifted further down the bed and you realized what he was doing.

“We have plenty of time.” He promised, pressing a kiss to your stomach.

Topper hadn’t seriously dated anyone since his break-up with Sarah. Kelce told him constantly that he was putting too much on that relationship, as if it was the holy grail by which to rate every other relationship that he had. And maybe he was allowing himself to be too scorned by something that lasted little more than a summer but he couldn’t help it. Topper was nothing if not a hopeless romantic and that had felt like such an idealistic time in his life until it all inevitably crashed around him.

He tried casual hook-ups before you. A few girls from high school that he knew that made it practically impossible for the casual to still exist alongside the hook-up. College was easier but freshman year had been mostly dedicated to rushing the fraternity that his dad and grandfather and great grandfather had all rushed before him. Then he met you at a party in the beginning of sophomore year and he told himself it was casual but he knew that this was far from it.

You weren’t anything like Sarah and maybe he had done that on purpose. Specifically slept with someone that didn’t remind him of anyone back home as some way to separate himself from that part of his life. To fully embody the frat boy, jock, life he was trying to live through. He figured it would just be a onetime thing and then maybe a sometime thing but now it was most definitely an all the time thing. Kelce told him that he should just ask you out but Topper felt like he was in too deep already.

This was supposed to be strictly friends with benefits, if he crossed that line and you said no he would be crushed.

“Topper,” you moaned, bringing him back to the moment. You shuddered as he pulled his fingers out of you, placing a kiss just below your belly button. When you tugged at the short blond hairs at the back of his head he shifted, letting you lead him back up so that you could kiss him.

You had told him specifically that it was your turn, as if he really cared about taking turns at all. “That’s the whole point, isn’t it? You don’t have some fussy girlfriend bitching about giving you head.” Rafe’s colourful comments about the situation had been largely ignored but Topper knew, less crudely, he was right. The whole reason the two of you had started this was for sex of any kind and you had been the one to suggest taking turns.

“My ex wasn’t very forthcoming with praise. He always told me I was kinda shitty at sucking dick so, maybe it’d be kinda nice to practice.” It’s been a colourful sentiment, one you had felt oddly comfortable sharing with Topper when the two of you first sat in his room discussing the arrangement.

And while he wholeheartedly disagreed with your ex-boyfriend, Topper just liked being the one to give. He liked that moment when everything overwhelmed you enough that you let go and stopped worrying about if you looked attractive in a certain position or if your thighs were too big or if you had any unwanted rolls. That split second between overthinking and not thinking at all was powerful and Topper liked being the one who caused it. He liked the way you looked in his bed, biting your bottom lip to keep quiet so other guys in the house didn’t hear you. The way your hair tangled just from laying on your back. He could list a million things, every one more obscure, less noticeable, than the last because he felt like when you were around all he could do was pay attention.

“Hey, quit daydreaming about Hailey Bieber-“ you teased as Topper’s movements slowed down, his lips brushing languidly against your collar like he was in some lethargic trance.

He squeezed your side, baring his teeth to nip at your neck, scraping them across your skin and making you laugh as you turned your head towards his. That lazy smile you got was there, eyes hooded as you watched him, the moment passed and he leaned in to kiss you again. When he broke away it was only to grab a condom from the box on his dresser.

Topper pushed your legs apart, settling between them. He slipped one hand beneath your back, guiding it into an arch to bring your chest closer to him, mouth finding one of your breasts. His tongue pressed against your nipple, swirling around it as you dug your nails in the sheets beneath you. He looked up at you, eyes hooded, as he pushed you back down against the bed. “God,” he breathed out, “you’re so fucking gorgeous.”

You grabbed the back of Topper’s neck, pulling him into a kiss, slower than the ones before, more tender. Your other hand moved down between your bodies, finding his dick, enjoying the way he moaned against your mouth as you guided him in. Despite the orgasm he’d given you in the shower you still felt that stretch as he pushed in, kissing across your jaw and sucking a bruise into the space just behind your ear.

You would never tell Geena but somewhere between quick hook-ups and longer nights together your ‘just casual sex’ had turned into something else, something far more meaningful though neither of you would acknowledge it.

Instead you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, Instead, you just held onto him, nails scratching a trail down his back as he found a rhythm, hips snapping against yours. The sound of your panting breath and his grunts filled the room; you bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning when Topper’s fingers dipped passed your folds to massage your clit.

“Oh god, Topper,” you whined, turning your face enough to press your cheek into Topper’s pillow, the faint smell of his cologne hitting your nose. You breathed in, always a fan of the subtle musk.

“Does that feel good baby?” His lips brushed your ear as he spoke, words barely registering over the sensation of him. You opened your legs a little further, lifting your knee and hooking your leg over his back. The angle seemed to give more depth and his movements picked up speed. His fingers circled your clit faster as he continued to whisper words of encouragement to you. A quiet “come on baby, I know you’re close”.

“Are you?”

His comment had seemingly brought you just out of the haze enough to ask him if he was close. You knew you were, he knew you were, and you wanted him to be there too, just on that edge with you. As he pulled out you clenched around him and when he pushed back in it felt deeper than before, that all too familiar groan of satisfaction leaving his lips as you guided him back into a kiss. He didn’t answer your question, instead taking the opportunity to kiss you, tongue working it’s way into your mouth and dragging across your teeth. You found your grip on his hair, tugging hard enough that he jerked his hips in retaliation, hitting so deep you felt yourself go off that edge, his motion become erratic as he followed, smoothing your scream with another kiss, biting your bottom lip as he pulled away.

There was always a moment of frenzy in the beginning when you first started hooking up. You would rush to grab your clothes, partially because you felt the need to leave when the act was done and partially because you didn’t want him to linger too long on your body. You were a temporary fix for a problem he didn’t feel like dealing with on his own, he wasn’t responsible for making you feel good about yourself. He wasn’t your boyfriend, he wasn’t obligated to tell you that you were beautiful or lavish any compliment onto you at all, not that your ex had ever been willing to either. You didn’t stay, for the first few weeks you trudged back across the lawn from the frat house, back to the dorms, and snuck in. But things had changed by mid October and what was once a booty call at one in the morning when he couldn’t sleep was now you going over for pizza and a study session that turned into an afternoon spent in his bed.

“What time is Will back?” You asked, sitting up as Topper came back into the room with two water bottles. There was still that awkward moment just after sex, as if neither of you knew how to leave behind the intimacy of the act and return to normal life. Like you were both waiting for the other to admit that maybe just friends wasn’t really what you wanted at all. So he disappeared downstairs to get water and you pulled your underwear and his sweatshirt back on, leaving the bra somewhere on the floor.

The empty other side of the room served as a poignant reminder that time alone was only ever temporary.

“Not sure,” he shrugged, “he’s been talking about some girl on campus that he’s dating. Won’t reveal her name apparently, he’s convinced Fitz will try to fuck with them if he finds out.” His fraternity brothers were not the same as hanging out with Kelce and Rafe every day but they weren’t the worst substitutes for entertainment. Fitz was the head of the house, a senior whose greatest claim to fame was being party to a wildly controversial radio-show that amounted to nothing more than some white guys imitating Rush Limbaugh and the Douche from Parks & Rec. He said dumb shit just to piss people off and had an unappreciated proclivity for trying to ruin any relationship one of his brothers found themselves in.

Will was always an easy target for him though he’d set his sights on you a few times, assuming like others did, that you and Topper were dating. You had never mentioned it to Topper, Fitz was gross and you were looking forward to his inevitable graduation at the end of May.

“Fitz totally would,” you replied. Last year you existed on no one’s radar. You hadn’t so much as gotten an offer to go out on a date with someone and yet this year, all because of Topper, you were sure, it felt like everyone in his circle seemed to pay attention to you in some way. “He told me he prank called Will’s mom two weeks ago pretending to be the on campus nurse for a bit on his radio show.”

Topper looked up from his phone and the pizza he was ordering, frown etched onto his features. “When did you talk to Fitz?”

“His econ class is right down the hall from my 12:30 poly sci class…he always ‘walks with me across campus’ in case I get mugged apparently.” You laughed, “I think he just does it cause he knows we hang out.”

“I didn’t know he was talking to you.”

You shrugged, Fitz had been goading you for weeks but it wasn’t anything that felt harmful. Just some mind-numbingly dumb conversation about parties and girls and his radio show and how hot he apparently thought you were. “It’s not a big deal, if he was bothering me I probably would’ve said something.”

“Right,” Topper still looked miffed despite having no reason to be. You weren’t interested in Fitz and, even if you were, what say did he have over it. That old familiar feeling crept in though, the one he recognised as the same one that the plagued him after Wheezie told him that Sarah had cheated on the boyfriend before him only to find out that she had cheated on him with John B. When he looked over you were pouting at him, “what?”

“Your room is so cold.” You replied, pulling the sleeves of your sweatshirt over your hands as if that was an indication of the frigid temperature. The old house lacked insulation in most of the rooms, Topper’s being one of them.

He rolled his eyes, climbing back into bed with you, the momentary worry subsiding. You weren’t his girlfriend but in that moment, as he pulled the blankets around the two of you, guiding you back down to lay with him under the covers, he could have fooled even himself about the relationship. He held his arm out in front of both of you so that you could see his phone and the menu for the pizza place.

“I’ve been really in the mood for pepperoni.” You mused, not bothering to look at the screen and opting instead to tuck your face into his bare collar. Your hand slipped down from his chest and Topper grabbed your wrist before you could make it to his briefs.

“Pizza first,” he said, “you’re already getting sleepy.”

“It’s cause I’m cold.” You insisted.

He turned to place a kiss on your forehead, “pizza.” He reminded you again.

Halloween weekend creeped up and, before you knew it, Phi Sig was decorated and advertising a Halloween haunted house party for everyone on campus. Geena was going home on the actual night of to trick or treat with her sister but she agreed to go to the party with you that weekend. She loved a good party and any excuse to dress up.

When you weren’t spending time with Topper, and sometimes when you were because he had a tendency to hang out just to hang out (the friends side of the benefit), you and Geena marathoned episodes of Supernatural. And it was at her coaxing that your Halloween costume became an homage to the show and your favorite character. A semi-loosely interpreted Dean Winchester, complete with a flannel over your black tank top and the mark of Cain crafted by Geena using her best fx makeup skills. You wore cut-off jean shorts with your hiking boots, showing off the legs that you were usually self-conscious about. Geena was Cas, sticking a little closer to the actual costume though she made a few alterations.

“I gotta ask…” Fitz said, coming up to the two of you the moment you were in the door, as if he was the greeting committee.

“I’m Dean Winchester.” You explained, “G’s Cas.”

“You dressed like a guy for Halloween?” Fitz clarified. “I was hoping for something that showed a little more…” he made a motion with his hands to indicate that the little more he wanted to see were your boobs.

“I have the obligatory sexy cat costume but that’s…” you looked passed Fitz’s shoulder, eyes landing on Topper down the hall chatting with some friends, a smile instantly lighting up your face, “that’s for his eyes only.”

Fitz looked behind him, catching sight of his frat brother and rolling his eyes before turning back to you, “yeah well, if Thornton’s not appreciative then you know where to find me.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” you laughed, stepping around him. Geena had broken off already, heading for the keg that had been set up in the corner. When you started down the hall Fitz found someone else to antagonise, leaving you to vie for Topper’s attention, not that it took you much. Just walking up had him breaking his concentration to look at you, the smile automatic. “Hey,” you greeted as he hugged you, keeping his arm around your waist as he brought you into the conversation.

“Hey, you look great.” He praised, offering you some of his beer. Topper’s costume was best described as JFK yachting in Hyannis. He looked like a preppy New England white boy and you suspected it was all clothing he already owned thrown together differently. There was always that slight air of prep to him though college and a growing collection of hoodies were slowly eating away at that.

“Thanks, I feel a little out of place,” you joked, noting a girl down the hall that was wearing a mock up of Amanda Seyfried’s bunny costume from Mean Girls. “Though I do have a costume change saved for later.”

“Oh yeah,” that smile was a full blown mischievous grin and you wondered for a split-second how down he would be to ditch the whole party and take you to his room. “Does it involve these clothes on my floor?”

“You’ll just have to wait and see.” You teased.

You had been stressing over the purchase of a costume that could’ve been more accurately described as lingerie since it arrived at your dorm a week earlier. Did friends with benefits buy lingerie sets specifically for showing off? You weren’t sure where that one fell on the line but you were positive you were crossing into territory that was reserved for girlfriends. But even with those doubts, just the thought of Topper seeing you in something that was just for him to see you in somehow made you unable to pass up the opportunity.

Topper groaned, pulling you closer to him so that he could press his forehead into your neck, “baby,” his voice sounded almost close to whining and you ran a hand through his hair. He nipped at your exposed collar before lifting his head again to look at you. “How long am I supposed to wait?”

“One track mind, I’ve said it before…I’ll say it again.” You laughed, trying not to think about the way this felt so much like a relationship, pulling away from him but taking his hand, “come on, I wanna get a drink.”

He followed you to the makeshift bar set up by the keg, refilling his beer while you ladled a generous helping of jungle juice into your cup, trying to fish as many sour patch kids as you could to add to it. You were drinking mostly to calm the nerves that were bubbling up. Geena would be gone Halloween night and the whole next day because she didn’t have classes and you were thinking of inviting Topper to stay over. Regardless of the hour or the amount of time you spent together afterward, the post-coital bliss always came to an end and one of you always left the other. Even if you got breakfast the next day there was a stretch of time that existed between the night before and the morning after where you were nothing to each other but bodies.

“So, Geena’s going home on Halloween, I thought maybe you could come over,” you suggested. That part was a given.

Topper looked almost confused that you were asking, “yeah, figured we’d end up hanging out anyway.” He replied.

“Well…” you worried your bottom lip between your teeth for a moment, “I was thinking, she won’t be back til the next day…like, at night, and I thought, maybe you’d wanna stay over.”

No. There was a voice in the back of his head, the logical one who knew that crossing the most obvious line, the one where he stayed and you woke up together, was a turning point that he wouldn’t be able to come back from. It was bad enough that he had let this become something that bordered on being a relationship to anyone looking in on it, but letting himself pretend like it was…he wasn’t sure he could come back from that when this all ended.

“Yeah,” he said, quieting the logical side of his brain, “as long as you wear this ‘something else’ for the duration of my stay.” It might be a bad idea but who was he kidding, he was so far gone he’d accidentally referred to you as his girlfriend when he was on the phone with his mom just the day before.

That smile returned to your face, the one that was so sly yet excitable at the same time, the perfect juxtaposition of innocence and deviousness, “Well, I was gonna wear nothing but-“

“Nothing works for me.” Topper replied, using his free hand to hook his fingers through your front belt loop and pulling you toward him so that he could kiss you. Definitely not friends with benefits, but you’d both keep pretending until one of you cracked.

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cafedanslanuit · 4 years

Text

♡ f l u f f v e m b e r 2 0 2 0 ♡

♡ week one — kageyama tobio | long-distance relationship

♡ summary — getting into a relationship with kageyama was close to impossible, that you knew. nevertheless, that didn’t stop you from developing feelings for him and eventually becoming more than friends. he was constantly training and didn’t have a lot of time to spend by your side, but once kageyama found himself remembering your laugh on his way home, he decided to do whatever it took to make the relationship work.

♡ playlist

the moon song - beabadoobee & oscar lang home - bruno major blueberry eyes - max & suga

♡ masterlist ♡

Every morning, Kageyama wakes up at the same hour. He puts on his running shoes, grabs his phone, keys and earphones and hits the streets. It’s been his routine since he started playing volleyball. While he ran, Kageyama preferred to keep his mind focused in his steps, the weight he was putting on his heels and toes, his heart rhythm and his mind replaying the sets he had done the day before. He didn’t see running as something he did before he trained, but as part of the training itself. Kageyama was very adamant against listening to music or a podcast during his morning runs.

Everything changed after he met you.

Kageyama puts on his earphones and goes through his mail inbox. Like most days, he sees your name on his most recent unopened email. He downloads the audio attachment and presses play before shoving his phone back to his pocket.

“Good morning Tobio!”

His lip twitches upward.

“So, you must be sleeping right now. Which sucks! Because I just got home from work. Yes, I got safe, don’t worry. Mika and her boyfriend dropped me at my place right now. Remember Mika, my coworker? Yeah. Hey boyfriend always picks her up when we have shifts until one in the morning and they drive me home. I’m kind of tired right now.”

Kageyama hears a long yawn on your side, followed by a thud that he imagines it’s you laying on your bed.

“Let me put on some music,” you say, and a few seconds later he listens to a tune he thinks he’s heard before. “Today’s classes were just okay. I got a grade back but it wasn’t what I expected.”

“But, what can you do?” Kageyama mouths along with your voice.

“Work was also okay. Mika and I spent most of the night talking, she had had a small fight with her boyfriend and asked me for advice. It wasn’t really a big thing, you see…”

The next few minutes, Kageyama listens to you ramble about your friend and her boyfriend, but he has to admit he is paying more attention to your voice than what you were saying. He imagines himself watching you talk and the expressions he had seen you make the first time he had seen you. The tip of your tongue sticking out between your teeth after you laughed at something you shouldn’t have laughed about, the slight pout on your lips as you talked about something you didn’t like or the attentive way your eyes fixated on him while he talked about volleyball.

“Anyway, I know you don’t really care about this,” you say. “But it’s really nice to imagine you listening to me talk during your morning runs. Is it already cold there? I hope you put something on if it is. Not trying to tell you what to do. I know you, more than anyone, take your health very seriously, but I guess I can’t help but worry,” you chuckle. You stay quiet for a moment, and Kageyama basks in the comfort your silence provides.

His mind goes back to those Sunday nights when he’s watching past games on his laptop while he’s face timing with you. You are usually taking a cup of coffee, trying to forget you’ve only slept five hours after getting home from your shift at the bar. You know he has to get to bed in a couple of hours so he can get enough rest for this Monday practice, so you treasure those small moments when the time difference and both your busy schedules let you share a moment. Kageyama’s eyes are fixated on his laptop and you take the opportunity to revise some of your lessons, most of the time finding out there was a paper due next week you had forgotten about.

Every once in a while you take a look at your phone and see Kageyama’s dark eyes glued to his laptop. You bury your nose on the Schweiden Adlers hoodie he sent you last month and even if your boyfriend’s smell has almost completely worn off, you still find comfort in wearing his clothes.

When Kageyama comes back to his house to get ready for training, your voice is no longer in his ears. You always made sure not to surpass the usual time he spends running. He takes a look at the dual clock on his phone and realizes you must be still in class, so he refrains from sending a text and hops on the shower.

The fourteen hour difference between the both of you had seemed like a wall impossible to climb. Not only that but his intense training schedule plus your uni classes and your part time job also took most of your energy and it was a rare occurrence that you could sit in front of a computer at the same time.

But the connection was something he had never experienced before. He had been invited to a foreign university overseas for a tournament. The day before it started, the team had gone to the campus to get to know the facilities, and after they were done, Kageyama had left them to buy something to drink from a vending machine. Not being able to find any, he asked for directions and took the elevator to the cafeteria, not noticing someone carrying a couple of books under their arms standing next to him.

Now it seemed almost fate to remember how the elevator malfunctioned and he had to spend the next two hours with you. After pressing the Emergency button and being told it would be a while, you introduced yourself with a smile. He wasn’t really enthusiastic about getting to know each other but it all changed after he mentioned he was there because of a volleyball tournament. Kageyama can still remember your eyes widening and the questions that followed, all centered about his true passion. A few minutes later, you were sitting on the floor of the elevator, while he explained in broken English every position in volleyball and what they were supposed to do. Even though you hadn’t played any sports seriously outside of school, the fact this guy was talented enough to get invited overseas to play had spiked your attention, and you asked question after question so you could understand more about volleyball.

“So the setter is basically the key player, right?” you had asked, while he scribbled on the notebook you had lent him so he could explain.

Kageyama tried not to smile. He really did.

After you asked him about the tournament schedule and wrote down the name of his team, you promised you would do your best to make it to the game. Kageyama had never really cared about people coming to his games to watch but, once he had won the first game as was leaving the court, his eyes unexpectedly met yours and he saw you waving at him for the bleachers with a smile. He nodded at you and as he disappeared through the gym door he thought maybe someone going to see his games wasn’t so bad.

One week later, Kageyama’s team had won the tournament, and since you had asked for his number while waiting inside the elevator, you offered to buy him something from the cafeteria after the final match. This time, he took the time to listen to you ramble about your career, and how enthusiastic you were about it. He didn’t understand most of the things you talked about, most of your words sounding foreign and new to him. But the one detail he did recognize at first glance was the way your pupils dilated while you spoke. Your hands moved faster than usual as you tried to explain, and you even used the salt shaker on the table as a prop to help you out. The glimmer in your eyes was the same nature as the burn he used to feel in his chest whenever he talked about volleyball. You promised to stay in contact and gave him a small but tight hug when it was his time to leave. He hoped you didn’t notice the pink tint on his cheeks before you went away.

Your love confession came two months after he was back in Japan, followed by the longest and hardest conversation the two of you had ever had. He explained his strict training schedule and you talked about your university increasing the hardness of the classes you took and how little time you had left. A long silence filled the room, and you realized maybe you should have kept the confession to yourself. It was never going to work. There were too many impediments so maybe it would have been better to push down whatever you felt. In the end, you two weren’t supposed to meet and--

“I’d like to try it.”

You can still remember the blush on his cheeks and furrowed eyebrows after blurting out those words. You smiled brightly at him and nodded, enthusiastically.

“I’d like to try too.”

It had been one year and six months since then. To find someone who not only understood his crazy schedule but was passionate about their own work felt surreal to Kageyama. Your plan was to finish your career in your home country and then move to Japan. You had been auditing the Japanese classes at your uni and taking a part time job to be able to support yourself as you settled in a new country. All of those changes meant less time to be able to talk with Kageyama as much as you did before. He assured you he understood, even if he would never admit out loud he missed you as well.

The situation prompted you to find other ways to feel close to him, hence why Kageyama woke up almost every day with a new audio file from you. You went from talking about your day to making him listen to music and even took the chance to practice your japanese. His English listening skills had also gotten better in the past year, all thanks to talking with you and how you would slow down your pace and repeat yourself if he ever needed to. While you recorded your audios after work, he usually recorded his after practice while he walked home from practice. Even if he was always a little worried about the length, you always made sure to send him messages about how happy you were to hear his voice while you ate your lunch or walked to your job after your classes.

Kageyama finishes his shower and comes back to his room. He gets ready in less than ten minutes in silence, knowing he doesn’t have any time to spare if he wants to get to the practice in time. Winter break is a month away, and he wants to give his best before he’s forced to step away for a couple of weeks. He has never liked holidays stepping in his routine, but he knows there was nothing he could do but endure and wait for his training to resume.

Before he leaves, Kageyama checks his phone again and opens the newest email.

Congratulations! Your flight booking is confirmed.

Okay, maybe he is looking forward to winter break after all.

#kageyama x reader #haikyuu x reader #fluffvember #fluffvember 2020 #kageyama tobio #kageyama tobio x reader #hq x reader #hq kageyama #kageyama #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #hq!!

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erin-bo-berin · 4 years

Text

Suit & Tie

MASTERLIST

The inspiration for this fic totally goes to @teamkiall because she brought up this scenario in a conversation we were having and I was like “hmm I NEED to make this into a fic somehow.”. She also said the line dealing with facial hair and I felt it appropriate to add into this, so thank you Kalyn. Also, thank you to the lovely anon who quoted the tiktok “you look becoming” line in my ask, turns out it worked perfectly in this. Plus it added some humor, I think. Sit back, relax and enjoy some lovely almost-Friday-Spencer-smut! Happy reading!

Spencer Reid/Reader

Rating: M (smut)

Word Count: 2,314

Spencer fidgeted in place, willing the elevator to move faster.

It finally reached the desired floor and the doors squeaked open. He dashed out of the elevator, opening the doors into the BAU. He was already late.

He skidded to a stop when he saw Luke and Matt at the tiny coffee corner, both sipping on a cup.

“Well look who graced us with his presence!” Luke beamed, clearly teasing him.

“You’re only,” Matt paused, glancing at his watch, “Fifteen minutes late today. Least it’s better than the half hour from last week.”

“What’s up with you? You’re never late. In this month alone, you’ve been late almost a dozen times,” Luke said, “What gives? And don’t say it’s the traffic. If me and Matt can beat you here when we deal with some crazy ass traffic, then I know you’re lying.”

Spencer sighed, looking at his coworkers and friends, exasperated.

“You really want to know?”

•

It was barely light out when your eyes opened. You yawned, rolling over to catch a glimpse of the alarm clock on the nightstand.

Its bright numbers read 6:55 a.m.

You heard the shower running and knew Spencer was awake and getting ready for work. You had to use the bathroom, so you forced yourself to get up, grumbling about having to leave the comforts of the bed.

You padded into the bathroom to do your business, still half asleep.

“Morning, Sleeping Beauty,” he called in a playful tone.

You mumbled your response causing him to laugh.

“Someone isn’t fully awake yet.”

You sat for a little longer, rubbing your eyes, forcing yourself to wake up before you got off the toilet. You might as well stay up to see him off to work now.

“It’s a little early for you to be awake isn’t it?” he asked.

Your eyes moved to the partially see through, clear shower curtain.

“Yeah,” you yawned.

Your eyes trailed his figure. It wasn’t a clear view through the shower curtain, but you knew his tall, lean frame well. You watched his shoulder blades appear and disappear as he washed his hair. Water slid down the length of his back. Your eyes slid to his ass next.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep babe?”

“Nah, I might as well stay up,” you said, your focus still on his body.

He wasn’t one of those guys that had an amazing ass, in fact in comparison to some, it was flat. But you loved it. You often teased him that he had the cutest booty, which in your eyes, it really was. Many times you had grabbed it as he thrust harder and deeper into you.

It was amazing. It was barely sunrise and you’d only just woken, but your libido was already skyrocketing. So was the blood to all the right places.

Your eyes flickered to his arms. He may be thin, but he wasn’t a twig. He worked out, giving his arms some slight muscle. You’d felt them plenty of time under your fingertips as you gripped them, usually when your orgasm completely wrecked your body.

You took your time, cleaning up and brushing your teeth while you were in the bathroom. When you were finished, you called over the shower water to Spencer.

“I think I’m gonna lay back down after all.”

“Okay, baby. I’ll try not to wake you.”

You slipped back into the bedroom, silently grateful that you’d chosen to sleep in one of his old button down shirts last night. It was big on you, but it was flowy and comfortable, coming down to the middle of your thigh.

You laid back down, opting to scroll on your phone, instead of going back to sleep. At this point, there was no need to deny it; you were too horny to go back to sleep.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes when he walked out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around his waist, water droplets falling onto his shoulders and chest from his damp hair.

“I thought you were going back to sleep?” he chuckled, seeing you awake.

“Well, I’m wide awake now.”

You turned back to your phone, sneaking peeks as he dropped his towel and got dressed. First, he put on his boxers, then his socks. Always mismatching, you loved that quirk about him.

His suit pants came next.

All this while you tried to talk yourself out of the idea forming in your head, but the more you thought about it, the more you were tempted to act on it.

You were incredibly lucky to have a boyfriend like Spencer. Not only was he sweet, caring, intelligent and attentive, he was also a dreamboat.

Having a career in the FBI meant he wore a lot of suits to work. That was a blessing and a curse for you. He was sexy as hell without the suit, but adding the dress attire into the equation and you really suffered.

You suffered because all you wanted to do was tear them right back off him.

It was currently what you were debating trying to initiate. You tried to convince yourself that you wouldn’t do this again, but dammit, it was just something about those suits.

Spencer had already pulled on a dress shirt and buttoned it up, a tie hanging loose around his neck, ready to be tied. He stood from the edge of the bed where he had been sitting and walked to the closet to get the matching suit jacket for the outfit he was going to wear today. That’s when you decided the urge you were feeling just wasn’t going to go away.

“Spencer?”

“Yeah?”

“That outfit looks becoming on you,” you said casually.

“Thank-”

You interrupted his thank you, with the rest of your thought.

“And if I were on you, I’d be coming too.”

He looked at you, jaw dropped for a moment as you smirked at him, your hand propping up your head.

“That...that was smooth,” he chuckled, “I think I’m at a loss for words.”

He sat back down on the bed, pecking your lips.

“You get points for that one, Y/N.”

You tried pulling him back towards you and succeeded only temporarily as he gave you two more, longer kisses.

“Y/N, I gotta go to work,” he chuckled, pulling away from you.

He resumed fixing his tie as you sat up, moving towards him before kneeling behind him, wrapping your arms around him.

You could smell the musky, earthy scent of his favorite soap on his skin. It was making you want him even more. His curls were still damp, but you ran your fingers through them, knowing it was something that drove him crazy.

“You still have time to spare,” you whispered, placing kisses up his neck.

Your hands slid over his chest, over his shirt and grabbed a hold of his tie, trying to still his hands. Your lips ghosted over his neck, to the area where his jaw and neck met. You sucked gently; it was one of his favorite spots.

You felt a groan rumble deep in his chest as he tried hard to resist you. You weren’t going to give up that easily.

“I can’t be late again,” he murmured, “The team is starting to get suspicious.”

“So?”

You moved away from him, climbing off the bed so you could stand in front of him.

“Sex is a natural thing. Besides, I can’t help that you in a suit gets me hot.”

You stood between his legs, unbuttoning the dress shirt you were in.

“That and the new scruff you’ve got going on, doesn’t help things,” you bit your lip, the seductive lilt in your voice making him swallow hard.

“It’s because facial hair makes a male appear more manly. You have eggs that want to turn into babies. Studies say facial hair makes a woman think their partner is more masculine and more likely to produce and provide for them.”

His voice was husky now as his eyes watched your fingers undo every button until they finally reached the last one. You let the garment fall to the floor, leaving you in nothing but your panties.

Your nipples were already hard, the most apparent sign of how aroused you were. Poor Spencer’s mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, staring at you.

“Wanna test that theory out?” you challenged.

“Fuck it.”

He gave in, pulling you by your hips towards him, his lips crashing against yours. Your mouth moved hot against his, eager for him. Your hand tangled into the back of his hair as you kissed him heatedly, extremely thankful he gave into you. You weren’t sure what you would’ve done if he hadn’t.

You ripped the tie off his neck and attacked the shirt buttons next. His lips found your neck, kissing it and lowering his mouth to your breasts. He cupped them in his hands, fingertips flicking over your nipples, pinching them slightly.

A whisper of a moan came from you, your body inadvertently arching into his touch. Your teeth sunk into your lip hard when his mouth closed around one of the hardened buds, tongue flicking over it.

You momentarily had lost yourself to the bliss of his mouth and had paused your undressing of him. When you realized your hands hand stilled, they got to work once again, even more urgent this time.

“God, I can’t get this off you fast enough,” you groaned.

“Just don’t rip it,” Spencer chuckled, aiding you.

Your hands ran along the smooth plane of his chest, your hungry kisses letting him know just how much you wanted him. His hand parted your thighs, cupping you through the thin fabric of your underwear.

“Yes, touch me,” you moaned, your hand running along his neck.

“Fuck, Y/N, you really do get turned on by the suits,” he breathed, wide eyed, the lines between his lust and awe blurring.

“And you,” you purred, reaching for the waist of his pants.

Thankfully he hadn’t put on a belt yet because you didn’t have the patience for it at the moment. You had them unbuttoned and the zipper pulled down in record time. Your hand reached in, pressing against the growing bulge in his underwear.

His forehead fell against yours, his moan of approval encouraging you.

“You like that?” you teased, “Just think, you almost missed this.”

With a low growl, he’d picked you up by the back of your thighs, depositing you on the bed. He quickly ridded his lower half of the pesky clothes getting in your way, then moved over you.

His lips captured yours again, his hands tugging your underwear off with a quick yank. It was surprisingly provocative, the fact he could do that so well.

He wasted no time to be inside you. His soft, pleased hum, vibrated against your lips as he moved back and forth.

You’d pulled this same stunt just last week—not that you could honestly help it—but you didn’t feel ashamed. It was always good to be sexually compatible and besides when the sex was as good as it was with Spencer, you craved it like it was your favorite dessert.

“You just. Had to do. This today.”

His sentence was broken by his thrusts. They were anything but gentle. He was giving you what you’d been craving practically since you woke up.

Spencer saw the dark twinkle in your eyes, your response to his challenge.

“Mhm,” you answered, clawing at his back, pulling him closer.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck.

Your movements were hot, fast and needy. You lived for this animalistic side of your sex life with him. Sometimes you just wanted him to screw you senseless.

“Baby, yes, fuckfuckfuck.”

Your words came out in a slur due to the building orgasm you were feeling, quickly mounting to the point where you knew you were going to explode. He was close too, you could tell. He always was his loudest the closer he got to falling over the edge. Your fingers circled your clit, desperate for your release now that you knew he wasn’t far behind you.

Like a balloon filled with too much air, you burst, your loud moan of his name being cut off. Your vision went white as the intensity overwhelmed you, your body arching further into his.

With his own string of curses, he let himself go, releasing deep within you. You were out of breath and your entire body was hot, heat wise from the quick exertion you’d just put it through.

But it was so fucking worth it.

His movements slowly stilled, a long kiss upon your lips following. He groaned against your mouth.

“Who can pass up a start to a Monday morning like that?”

•

“So let me get this straight,” Luke said, the arched eyebrow the main indicator of his amusement.

“You can’t leave the house to get here at a decent time because half the time your girlfriend rips off your work clothes the moment you put them on?”

“Basically,” Spencer said.

Luke looked at him, dumbfounded, then looked at Matt to gauge his reaction.

“Hey, don’t look at me,” Matt chuckled, “I’d be lying if I said me and Kristy weren’t guilty of doing the same thing occasionally.”

“Why doesn’t this kind of thing ever happen to me?” Luke asked, still in awe, “Like damn, Reid’s got better game than I thought.”

Spencer rolled his eyes, more amused than annoyed.

“My piece of advice for you? Burn your suits,” Luke said.

This time, Spencer actually grinned. If it meant he got to to start the day in bed with his girlfriend, then it was definitely worth being late every now and then.

“Nah.”

TAG LIST: @dreatine @reid-187 @groovyreid @reidslibra @suvikamahes98blr @fuckthealarm @iamburdened @cindywayne @thomasfoockinshelby @tinyminy88 @sundippedprincess @missprettyboy @hushlilbabydoll @sammy-jo1977 @theonlyone-meeeee @haileymorelikestupid @lemonypink @multifandommandy @teamkiall @redbullchick @ifeelloved @one-sweet-gubler @nanocoool @delightfullyspeedyearthquake @unsteadyimagines @ughitsbaby @inkwiet @pennythetechgoddess @capt-engr-ssa @sixx-sic-sixx @spencersdolore @reidsstudies @disney-dreams-world @chocolatecalzoneherringbonk @mggwhore @andiebeaword @cupcake525 @be-the-bravest @gretaamyk @likelovers @hopebaker @prisonreid @httpnxtt @daviddoughboy @pastathighs @marvels-gurl @blushingspencer @pretty-boy-gubler @victorzsaszmydaddy @inlovewithamess @im-inlovewith-mycar @onceupona-diamond

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arcticdementor · 3 years

Link

Sitting on the couch watching TV earlier this month, my wife read to me a headline from her iPhone. “Listen to this,” she said: “There are only 15 lesbian bars left in the entire country.”

“Great,” I said, “We’ll each get our own.”

Lesbian bars have always been vastly outnumbered by bars for straight people and gay men, but in the 1980s, there were more than 200 lesbian bars in the U.S. What happened? Well, a lot of them sucked. The first lesbian bars I went to in my early 20s were dank, smoky caves where women in khaki shorts and backward caps grinded on each other to Outkast. They could have been frat bars if not for the notable absence of men.

…

But there’s something else going on right now, because it’s not just lesbian bars that are disappearing; it’s lesbian as a category itself.

After Portland’s last lesbian bar closed in 2010, as Ellena Rosenthal explored in the Willamette Week, there were attempts to start lesbian-specific nights at various venues, but most avoided the L-word to appear inclusive of trans and nonbinary people. One event, called Temporary Lesbian Bar, apologized after being accused of condoning “trans women exterminationism” for using the labrys — a double-headed ax that symbolizes female strength and has long been a part of lesbian iconography — in their logo. That event still exists (or did before Covid), but the organizers make sure to advertise that, despite the name, it’s “open, inclusive, and welcoming to all people.” (Oddly, these fights only seem to occur around women’s space, not men’s. If gay bars, bathhouses, and clubs go extinct, it will be because of Covid, not because of infighting over inclusion.)

Portland may be a parody of PC, but it’s not an outlier. When I came out in North Carolina in the early 2000s, the term “lesbian” was fading and “queer” was rapidly rising. Most of my peers saw lesbians as stodgy, old-fashioned, and uncool, whereas queers were hip, edgy, and inclusive. Yet “queer” is vague enough to mean nearly anything, so the label says less about your love life and more about your politics. (I propose we all start using the Kinsey Scale instead.)

The flight from “lesbian” has accelerated since. An academic in the Southeast, who asked to remain anonymous, told me that when she mentioned to a colleague that she’s a lesbian, the colleague “reacted like I’d confessed to being a Confederate Lost-Causer. She told me that the term is outdated and problematic, and I shouldn’t use it.” So the lesbian keeps quiet about her identity: “It’s like living in a second closet.”

Not long ago, it would have been the Christian right stigmatizing homosexual women. Today, it’s also from people who call themselves queer.

…

Nonbinary people say that the identification liberates them from the prison of gender, but for others, it doesn’t dismantle gender roles and stereotypes; it reinforces them. It legitimizes the idea that there’s an intractable gender binary in the first place. Instead of saying, “I’m a woman and I reject gender roles,” NB ideology says, in effect, “I reject gender roles and therefore I’m not a woman.”

Joycelyn MacDonald, the editor-in-chief of the lesbian site AfterEllen, has seen the NB ideology pushed by well-intended people and she worries about the unintended consequences. “When we say that femininity is equivalent to womanhood, we leave no space for women, gay or straight, to be gender non-conforming,” she told me. “Butch lesbians especially have fought for the right to claim space as women, and now women are running from that instead of boldly stepping into it. It’s another way of saying ‘I’m not like other girls,’ and it’s demeaning to other women.”

This is not a popular position in some queer communities, and AfterEllen is routinely accused of being transphobic. In 2018, Rhea Butcher, a nonbinary comic, tweeted: “You don’t represent me or my friends and your website is a sham. You’re not a lesbian/bisexual website, you’re a TERF website.” (“TERF" stands for “trans-exclusionary radical feminist” and is not, to put it mildly, a compliment.) Butcher’s tweet is typical, and it’s part of what makes having this conversation so fraught.

There’s been no clear polling on the shift from “lesbian” to “nonbinary,” and so my sense that the lesbian is endangered is purely anecdotal. But there are plenty of anecdotes. After I put out a call on Twitter asking lesbians for input, my inbox filled with emails from women who said vast portions of their friend groups have adopted new labels and pronouns. But none feel like they can openly discuss it, which is apparent by the number who asked to remain anonymous: all of them.

…

Some feminists argue that women are so oppressed in society that opting out of womanhood is a way of opting out of oppression. I’m skeptical. Why didn’t women do this decades ago, when oppression was objectively greater? Besides, enbies are more likely to be Smith undergrads than, say, immigrants getting assaulted at the border.

And there’s another not-so popular explanation: that it’s a fad, a form of social contagion.

I’m aware that this will be offensive to some people. The concept of a fixed, internal gender identity has become sacrosanct, and it’s viewed as something deeply personal and meaningful, like the soul. But humans are social creatures and we are easily influenced by our peers. This isn’t a moral judgment, just a fact, and I’ve seen how it plays out in my own peer circle. First one person comes out as nonbinary, then another, then another, and then one day half the dykes you know go by “they.” Add social media to the mix, and fawning profiles of nonbinary people in the press, and you’ve got yourself a mass cultural phenomenon.

I ran this theory by a therapist who specializes in LGTBQ issues. (She asked to remain anonymous, so I’ll call her Tara.) Tara told me that while the most common complaints of her young female patients involve gender identity, it’s not an issue with older patients. The older ones struggle with their sexuality or their relationships, but aside from a few transexuals with dysphoria, gender identity doesn’t come up. And young women, in particular, are prone to social contagion. We’ve seen this in many areas: eating disorders, cutting, exercising, yawning, strange fits of laughter, and even (forgive the term) hysteria.

When I asked Tara if social contagion could be the cause of the nonbinary movement, she paused for long enough that I thought she may have hung up the phone. “Yes,” she said. “But I can’t really say that to anyone.” The professional risks are too great.

#katie herzog #substack

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janetbrown711 · 3 years

Note

"Don't look at me like that. " warner sibs 🥺

To say Yakko was feeling anxious about his brother’s return home was an understatement.

Wakko hadn’t given a return address on his last three letters, nor had he sent money, which meant things were very, very bad for him. Especially since there had been a long stretch of time where he didn’t get any letters anymore. Yakko had been worried sick when he didn’t hear from him for weeks. His mind had paced endlessly, thinking about what could’ve happened to him. After all, Wakko had just been at a farm with a stable job a few weeks ago, what could’ve happened in that time?

His anxiety had then melted into relief when he got the first letter from Wakko in a month, but that then turned to confusion when the only think Wakko had written was an apology for not writing, and assurances that everything was fine. No details. No return address. No reason for why he hadn’t written. Nothing.

Yakko had been angry after that. However, his anger had quickly melted when he accidentally took it out on Dot. He hadn’t hit her, but there was a lot of shouting that night, to say the least.

Thank goodness Dot was the forgiving sort and that he was back to cuddling with her by night time. He wasn’t sure how much he could’ve forgiven himself if she had stayed mad and maybe even-

Yakko still had a problem with jumping to only the worst conclusions.

His anger had then faded into exhaustion and longing for his brother to return home. Dot had gone through two rough patches in his absence, and Yakko and Dot were both starting to crack without his optimistic outlook on life.

Yakko hoped that if anything, his optimism managed to stay with him after what he’d gone through.

Then, his exhaustion had faded into careful optimism with his last letter- the letter before that seeming to only be a rehash of the first. In the last letter, Wakko had announced he had enough money to pay for a train ticket home. How his little brother managed to get the money was beyond Yakko, but he was relieved. For a moment there, Yakko believed his brother might never come home, and seeing the words written down on paper made Yakko feel renewed, though... also conflicted. He was furious, he was concerned, he was anxious, he was overjoyed, he was all of that all at once. Yakko didn’t think it was possible to feel so many emotions at once.

And yet, here he was. With Dot curled up in his lap, clutching her purple blanket he had bought for her a few months back from the suspicious bonus Wakko had received, and waiting for the train. Yet again, it seemed the entire town was waiting as well. Acme Falls had really fallen down on their luck in a year, little to no businesses were open and the only reason they survived was that they shared. If Wakko came back with money, it could help revive the community greatly.

Yakko just hoped that whatever amount he brought back, it would be enough to cover Dot’s surgery. Yakko wasn’t sure how much more he could handle. And how much Dot could handle either.

God, Yakko was proud of his sister. She was easily the strongest person he knew. Sure, she would slip every now and then, who wouldn’t in her situation, but she somehow always managed to pick herself up. During her good patches, she went for walks, she picked flowers outside of their home, she was learning how to sew from Yakko- an idea that had sparked from when he had to sew her skirt with pieces of his scarf after getting a giant hole in it after tripping over herself. her resilience and want to keep living life was admirable to everyone who saw her.

Yakko snapped back into reality when his ears perked up and in the distance, he could hear it- the train was arriving.

Happily, he shook his little sister awake and she sprung to life.

“Is he here? Is Wakko here?” She asked with a big smile.

“Not yet, but soon,” He winked playfully. Dot then ran up from the bench and waited on the edge of the platform, practically bouncing from excitement. That was far more than what Yakko could manage- he hadn’t been able to sleep the whole previous night out of worries and thoughts. Still, he was happy for her, though his other swirl of emotions was still within him too.

He couldn't help but laugh a little when Dot started telling anyone who would listen that her brother was on that train and he was going to come back with a fortune. Yakko winced at that, but tried to keep his smile. After all, he had been able to buy a train ticket. Hopefully, that left him with something left over. He didn’t want Dot or the town to be let down.

Eventually, the train got closer and closer, and Yakko went to join his sister by the platform. Slowly and loudly, the train came to an eventual stop, and steam filled the platform, and out of that steam came-

“Hi!”

“Wakko!!!” Dot ran and gave him the tightest hug she could muster, which Wakko quickly returned. They stayed hugging for quite the length, and when they let go, Wakko looked to the crowd and got a familiar look on his face.

Ever the showmen, Wakko grinned before greeting the crowd. "My friends of Acme Falls, I have brought my fortune! A ha’penny!” he displayed his ha’penny and the crowd cheered and Wakko was overwhelmed with greetings from old friends and people he had worked with as they all gave him suggestions of what he should spend it on. After all, ha’pennies were worth a lot more than they were a year ago. Yakko gave his own thoughts to his brother here and there but figured it was best he wait until after everyone left for a proper hug and reunion. Wakko was really excited about going shopping and figuring out what to buy anyway, Yakko could wait a little while longer.

Plus he still had that emotional swirl to work through.

However, he was distracted from that when Wakko announced to everyone that he’d be spending his ha’penny on paying for Dot’s surgery, which made Dot very, very happy. The town cheered for him, understanding; Acme Falls was good that way.

Despite the joy and relief the town was feeling, Yakko still felt something was off. He looked around at the crowd surrounding his brother and sister as they walked through and noticed Ralph was missing. Yakko’s eyes widened when he realized that could only mean-

“Yes Wakko, we’re all thrilled about your good fortune- however, about your taxes...”

The Tax Collector, Thaddeus Plotz.

Yakko hated that man more than most anyone else on the planet, though of course, Salazar took the number one seat on that.

Everyone else in the crowd seemed to have the same thought, as the joy had seemingly been sucked out of everyone’s faces as they watched Plotz and Wakko.

“Taxes? What taxes? I just got here! And before that I had to pay taxes at River Town,” Wakko fought back.

“Oh? But that doesn’t matter, today is tax day in Acme Falls. Now, let’s calculate how much you owe- oh the King will be so delightful,” He grinned as he got out a piece of paper and started writing.

“The King is a jerk,” Wakko growled.

“Oh goodie, that qualifies you for the “saying-the-king-is-a-jerk” tax, how wonderful,” Plotz grinned wickedly. Wakko shot Yakko a look of helplessness and all Yakko could do was shrug.

“...and that brings your grand total to... one ha’penny,” He said as he snatched the coin from Wakko’s hand and ran back into his stupid carriage he used as a shield, before leaning out the window and adding-

“Your federal government thanks you!”

“Wha..? B-but...” Wakko’s ears fell the lowest Yakko had ever seen them. Yakko grimaced, but knew there really was nothing to be done, no matter how terrible it was. The last thing any of them needed was the royal guard on their backs, so they had to accept this, no matter how crummy and unfair and terrible it was.

With a heavy sigh, Yakko went over and patted his brother on the back and slowly guided him and Dot back home.

“I-i... I worked so hard...” Wakko kept repeating while they walked, and Yakko was ninety percent sure he was crying. Hell- Yakko would’ve been crying too, but he put on a brave face for his little sibs.

“I know Wak, I know,” Yakko sighed. “Let’s just get home, we can talk about what we’ll do then.”

And so the Warner siblings walked back to their home in silence. Yakko did his best not to look at either of them, for fear that he’d crumble into a million little pieces the moment Dot or Wakko looked at him.

Eventually, they did make it to their rickety little home. Yakko showed Wakko where his bed was, Dot went to her own, and then Yakko sat down on his bed to think about what they were gonna do next.

He couldn’t believe he had let himself believe that all of his worries would disappear with Wakko’s return. He should’ve known Plotz could sniff all happiness and money from 50 miles away and should’ve warned Wakko to put it away. Now they were never going to be able to-

N-never be able to-

Oh god...

Dot was going to die, wasn’t she?

Without the ha’penny, they could never afford the surgery a-and-

She was going to die.

Yakko was going to have to bury her a-and then i-it would just be him and Wakko.

Yakko buried his head in his hands and wept.

He wept for Dot. He wept for Wakko. He wept for his parents and he wept for the promises he was unable to keep.

After a very, very long time of crying, he heard a small knock on his door, and immediately tried to regain his composure. There was no way in hell he was letting his sibs see him like this.

He took deep breaths, wiped his face on his blanket, breathed some more, and put on a weak smile before opening his door.

“Yes Wakko?” He asked.

“You said you wanted to talk about what to do next when we got here. We gave you some time a-alone and well...” Wakko looked at the ground. Yakko internally facepalmed, not believing he let himself forget.

“Right, of course. lead the way,” Yakko gestured and the brothers walked back to the “fireplace” and sat on boxes.

“S-so...” Wakko said.

“So...” Dot said, glancing at Wakko, then Yakko, then at the ground. Yakko sighed.

“Look, I’m going to be frank, it’s going to be rough, but-”

“-But i could go out again. To a different town this time! Maybe I could even leave the country- there has to be better opportunities-”

“No.” Yakko shut him down. “You aren’t going anywhere and I am not going to be persuaded this time.”

“Yeah Wakko, how can you say that?” Dot looked hurt. “We just got you back, you can’t leave!”

“But it wasn’t enough! I failed! I-i didn’t get enough money...” Wakko’s eyes filled with tears as he looked at the ground.

“Wakko, you didn’t fail,” Yakko put a hand on his shoulder.

“Yes I did, I didn’t bring home enough for her surgery, which was the whole reason I left in the first place,” Wakko sniffled.

“You left home to help provide for us, which you did. Look around Wak,” Yakko gestured around. “I was able to buy Dot a shawl to keep her warm in the winter, some hay for her bed, new blankets for all three of us. You leaving helped us a lot, even though we missed you every day, right Dot?” He looked at his sister for moral support.

“Yeah Wakko! It’s because of you I’m still okay,” Dot smiled sweetly, but Yakko could see she was holding back a cough.

“See Wak? Your sacrifice wasn’t for nothing, and we’re plenty glad to have you back, understand?” He said, distracting him from noticing what Dot was doing. Wakko slowly nodded, wiping his eyes with his sleeve.

“Sorry...” Wakko apologized. Yakko sighed and stood up, pulling his little brother into a hug.

“You did the best you could Wak. I’m really, really proud of you,” Yakko said. Wakko nodded, and hugged him back.

Despite everything, Yakko smiled a little.

It was good to have his brother back.

Yakko waited until Wakko let go to sit back down. He drummed his fingers against his thigh and thought for a moment, before getting an idea.

“I have an idea you two: While you’ve been gone, I’ve been working on making a special sled for Dot. I say tomorrow we take it out and have some fun in the snow, does that sound okay?” He asked. Dot nodded and managed a little smile.

“That sounds like fun, right Wakko?” She asked, glancing at him. Wakko only nodded.

“I’m gonna go for a sec... I’ll be back soon,” Wakko said, walking out of the home. Yakko nodded.

“Try not to stay out past dark,” He advised, unsure if his brother heard or not. Guess he’d have to see.

“Is Wakko okay?” Dot hugged Yakko’s arm.

“Today was really rough for him, but I’m sure he’ll feel better after a good night’s rest,” Yakko hoped. Dot nodded.

“I hope so,” She said. “He looks really tired.”

“I’m sure everything will be better tomorrow. Here, it’s getting late, you should get going to bed,” Yakko said, looking at the sunset. Dot agreed with a yawn, and together they walked into her room. She coughed a little as she laid down, and he tucked her in.

“Goodnight Dot, sleep tight,” he whispered, smiling warmly yet tiredly.

“Yakko, tell me the story,” Dot grabbed his arm before he could go. Yakko sighed. She had grown awfully attached to the story he had spun to comfort her about their parents and how they fell in love and eventually had Dot.

“Okay,” He said, before grinning mischievously. “There once was a man from Nantucket-”

“Not that story,” Dot shot him a look and Yakko laughed a little.

“Look Dot, it’s late. You should go to sleep,” He said, knowing that he was definitely going to lose this argument.

“Oh come on, Yakko. Tell me the story... please?” She pleaded with her signature puppy dog eyes.

"Oh come on, dont look at me like that," He thought. Yakko sighed, he was always a sucker for her.

“Oh, alright,” He smiled, and rolled his eyes as Dot scooted over in excitement.

He then told the tale of how his parents met, how their father was a handsome knight, and there mother was a beautiful princes, and how they had two sons but wanted a little girl, and told her that she was born in the spring with the prettiest flowers. He then turned to face Dot and talked about how every night they’d ask “Who’s the cutest girl?” and Dot would reply, “Me!” and then they’d ask “how were you so cute” and she’d reply, “I was born with it.” He then said they’d demand for her to “tell us your name young lady” and Dot would list off her very long name with perfection. He’d then tickle her and she’d kick and giggle until she tired herself out and curled back into her bed.

“I like that story,” Dot smiled as she closed her eyes.

“Goodnight sis,” Yakko smiled a little too.

Was it a story full of lies and half-truths? Yes.

But did it always manage to bring a smile to Dot’s face, even on the hardest days? Also yes.

And besides, Yakko didn’t mind remembering his parents in a positive light.

He then blew out the candle in her room and left, and stumbled into Wakko, who had been watching anxiously.

“How is she?” He asked. Yakko shrugged.

“She seems to be okay tonight, but who knows,” Yakko admitted. Wakko’s eyes felt to the floor as he turned away.

“If only I had earned more...” Wakko muttered to himself.

“Hey,” Yakko turned and put his hands on his brother’s shoulders. “You did your best Wakko. We’ll pay for her operation some other way,” he said, not really knowing how, but forcing himself to hope anyway.

“I guess,” Wakko sighed and went over to a springboard that he had somehow turned into a functioning harp. Yakko stared at it and admired the craftsmanship.

Despite Wakko’s claims that his trip had been for nothing, Yakko knew it had turned into a skilled craftsman.

“You turning in?” He asked softly.

“To what?” Wakko didn’t look back at him.

Yakko considered arguing with him for the snark, but was too tired.

“Good question,” he said instead. “See you in the morning,” he added before going into his room.

Once he did, he all but collapsed onto his bed. Today had been exhausting, and even worse, the swirl of emotions in his chest still hadn’t left. He was still mad at Wakko for not writing more often and not giving more of an explanation, but he figured he’d just have to ask him about that and more details about his trip tomorrow. For now, he’d have to try and get some sleep, despite how impossible it seemed.

They didn’t have any money. Dot wasn’t going to get the surgery she needed. Things were looking bleak, and not just for them, the whole town- the whole Kingdom.

Well, at least they weren’t alone in this anymore, Yakko supposed there was some comfort in that.

Plus, despite everything, Yakko was still happy to see Wakko again, despite how much skinnier, tired, and worn out he appeared. He was confident his return would mean good things for them.

It had to.

Yakko didn’t have any other options.

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11

#animaniacs #yakko wakko and dot #wakkos wish #my fics #yakko warner #dot warner #wakko warner

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