#new sexy leg lamp dropped

[shiftythrifting]

Batman Leg lamp - Goodwill Manasota, Venice, FL

#thrifting #shiftythrifting #submission #lamps #batman #goodwill #new sexy leg lamp dropped

[ghostfaceaddams]

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Part One

summary: Dinah gets a call that could change both her and Helena's lives.

warnings: cussing, violence, blood, fighting, and death.

word count: 9,108

Having a corporation such as the Justice League made it difficult to find work for other free agent heroes and vigilantes. They were always signing the big deals and catching the big fish. All Helena was left with were low lifers; pocket thieves and run of the mill bank robbers.

But Helena had to make do with what she had. She learned that the hard way growing up.

She grunted as the crook elbowed her in the face. He took his chance and elbowed her in the stomach as well and stomped on her foot. While she doubled over he took off down the alley.

‘Damn Helena, you’re out of shape. There’s no reason why a petty thief should get the drop on you.’

She allowed herself a few more seconds to compose herself knowing that she would need all the strength she could muster to chase after him.

“You’re just going to let him get away?” A smooth voice said from behind her.

Helena groaned and swiveled around.

“I have this under control Canary. Besides, this is my domain. Why don’t you just go back to that tin-can in the sky and wait for Luthor or a other worldly threat make their move.” Helena fired back.

Black Canary’s blue eyes danced with mirth as she leaned back against the street lamp. She was in her usual work attire and had her hair down in its natural waves. Her arms were crossed loosely and her body hung against the street lamp. She was enjoying seeing Huntress’ baddie escape.

“Woah. Someone’s grumpy. Did you not get enough sleep?” Canary smirked mischievously.

“Oh you know I didn’t.” Helena grinned.

Helena’s thief was forgotten about as she stared at Dinah’s luminous form. With her gold hair and the street light directly above her, she looked like an angel. But Helena knew that later, at Helena’s apartment, Dinah would be anything but angelic.

Dinah raised a perfectly sculptured eyebrow and smiled warmly. “He’s getting away.”

Helena mentally scolded herself for getting caught up in the warm, fluttery feelings Dinah gave her.

“Right.” She smiled sheepishly and took off in pursuit of her bad guy.

She used her grapple to get to the top of a building for a birds eye view. After darting across three buildings she saw him leaning against a slanted wooden fence. He was clearly out of breath and thought he was in the clear. She smirked and jumped down onto the fire escape.

The man jumped and looked ready to take off down the gravel road. But Helena was quicker; she jumped from the fire escape and landed a kick to his chest. He fell back into the fence and started sliding down it. Helena did a roundhouse kick to his face that propelled him into the group of trashcans to the side. And just like that he was out.

Mission accomplished.

————————————

“What’d that guy do anyway?”

Dinah’s breath was warm against the valley of Helena’s breasts sending shivers down her spine. Helena squirmed and readjusted her hold around Dinah’s waist. It took her a moment to realize who her partner was referring to.

“He stole a car.”

Dinah snickered and raised her head. It strained Helena’s neck and eyes to glance down at the grinning woman.

“You let a car thief get away?”

Helena smiled and slid a leg between Dinah’s. The blonde didn’t break her gaze with the brunette nor did her smile waver, but she did start brushing her foot up Helena’s leg.

“I got distracted by a pretty girl.”

“Mmm. And what would your girlfriend think of this girl Miss Bertinelli?” Dinah started creeping two fingers up Helena’s chest like a stick figure.

Helena watched the movement of her partners fingers for a few seconds before responding. “I think she’d approve of her. They’re really a lot alike.”

“Oh is that right?” Dinah inched closer.

“Definitely. Both are blonde, both are incredibly sexy, both have beautiful smiles.”

Dinah smiled so wide that her dimples popped. Helena’s predatory smile turned genuine at the new display of dimples. She reached one hand out to press her thumb into the left indentation.

“Don’t let me stop you.”

“I’m starting to think you only keep me around to boost your ego.” Helena dropped her hand back to the small of Dinah’s back and cocked her head to the side.

Dinah pressed her hands flat down on Helena’s chest, her right hand feeling the beat of Helena’s slightly erratic heartbeat. The brunette started to massage the blonde’s back not so innocently.

“It’s not the only reason.” Dinah smiled teasingly but it soon faltered. Her crystal blue eyes fell down to Helena’s lips. “You make me happy.”

As long as Helena had been together with Dinah, the blonde showing any sort of vulnerability with Helena made her feel like a deer in headlights.

It wasn’t long after Darkseid tried to take over Earth that it started. Life on the streets was beginning to take a toll on Helena and Q was too devoted to his conspiracy theories. They simply grew apart. Ollie and Dinah was another story though.

Dinah started popping up all over town on Helena’s rounds. The first time she chalked it up to coincidence, but then Dinah showed up a second time, and then a third, and again and again. Soon enough they were practically partners. After that they started to hang out at Helena’s place after taking down bad guys together. It was nice to have someone to talk to other than Q and his crypticness.

One night, instead of going to Helena’s place they went to the bar. As two young adults would do after being highly intoxicated, they had sex. Helena pretty much avoided Dinah like the plague after that. The first week Dinah didn’t even make an attempt to see Helena so she figured the blonde felt the same. But then she started showing up again. Helena’s willpower could only hold so long around Dinah until she finally just caved.

They started casually sleeping around. This went on for a few months until Dinah started staying the night after their nightly activities. It finally occurred to Helena that she didn’t know the status of Dinah and Ollie’s relationship. While she didn’t want to be a part of an affair, she wasn’t sure she could handle knowing Dinah wasn’t all hers.

“We broke up.”

“You broke up? When? How come I never heard about this?”

“Because you aren’t friends with any of the leaguers and Q isn’t a gossiper.”

“Helena. Do you really think I would’ve been sleeping with you this whole time if I was with Ollie?”

After that they were an official couple. Dinah Lance and Helena Bertinelli. (Of course, Black Canary and Huntress weren’t an item. But that was a whole other issue.) That started about a year ago.

It wasn’t like their relationship was purely physical. They went out on dates and hung out at home without having sex. Every Saturday Dinah got up with Helena to watch cartoons. (It has something to do with Helena’s shattered childhood. Watching cartoons helps to bring some semblance of normality to her demented past.) Helena goes to the grocery store down the street from Dinah’s apartment to help her shop. They train and go on walks together. (“We look like old people.” “Stop complaining and just enjoy the view Helena.” “It’s a city Dine, kinda hard to enjoy the view.” “Then just hold my hand.”)

There were other things they did together. They would talk too, but it was always so nerving. Helena was getting better at it but it was still hard. A year into their relationship and five years of knowing each other and Helena still short circuited when it came to the serious stuff.

“Geez Dinah, you’re such a sap.” Helena felt like Chandler Bing with jokes as her default for uncomfortable situations.

Bless Dinah’s heart, she had gotten accustomed to Helena’s deflection. She learned to feed off of it and knew when to not push Helena and what to say when she did. The blonde put a knee on either side of Helena’s right leg to lean up and kiss Helena. The brunette’s eyes fluttered close as she melted into the kiss.

Slowly Dinah pulled away, both of their lips glistening. Helena kept her eyes closed, enjoying the blissfulness. Dinah’s eyes were hooded as she brushed her thumb against Helena’s elegant cheekbone.

“You don’t have to say it. I know that I make you happy too.” Dinah said quietly, so quietly it was almost a whisper.

Helena ever so slightly quirked her lips up in a thankful smile.

“Maybe you’re the martian with all your mind reading abilities.” Helena couldn’t help but tease.

Dinah snorted and placed a sweet kiss on Helena’s lips. The brunette sighed and allowed Dinah to take control of her.

It scared Helena-no terrified Helena, it scared the ever loving SHIT out of Helena how well Dinah knew her and how easily she could take control. Helena grew attached to people quickly and despite their easy breakup, it tore Helena up losing Q. Dinah was closer than ever and meant more to Helena than anyone else. Helena had no one. Literally no one else. Dinah was it. She knew everything about the orphan and could read her like a children’s book.

If Helena lost Dinah…she didn’t like to think like that but she did…too much.

——————————————

The bed was cold when Helena woke up later that night. She glanced at the clock on her nightstand and groaned when she saw the time.

3:15 am.

She considered going back to sleep but like a damn fool she had become accustomed to sleeping with Dinah. So she sat up in bed and did a quick scan of her studio apartment for the blonde.

Dinah was standing in the kitchen leaning against the island. She had slipped on a blue t-shirt of Helena’s and was in her black underwear. She looked ready for bed but her body was tense. Helena could see the tension all over Dinah’s back.

“Di?” She sleepily called out.

Dinah quickly looked back at Helena then turned back around. Helena frowned and realized that the blonde was talking. She couldn’t see a phone so she knew it must be Justice League related. She got out of bed and padded over to her girlfriend.

“What’s wrong?” Helena asked after Dinah hung up.

It must’ve been bad because Dinah couldn’t even look at Helena. The brunette shifted her weight from foot to foot the longer they were in silence.

“Dinah what’s going on?” Helena’s voice was high pitched and light as she smiled incredulously.

It felt like a year went by as Dinah raised her head to look at Helena. The moment Helena saw Dinah’s unsteady eyes she knew that whatever happened wasn’t just bad but abhorrent.

“Mandragora escaped.”

The floor seemed to give away beneath Helena as she heard those two words. They were words she had expected to hear time and time again. Every day that beast was locked up she expected to see a news broadcast at night about him escaping. But it being a reality was different from nightmares.

It felt like the walls were caving in on Helena and blinding her vision. There wasn’t red or white with rage, it was all just black. Pure, sheer, utter black.

“Oh.” Was all Helena could think to say.

All these emotions, all these thoughts and feelings, and all Helena could think to say was oh. She numbly sat down in the island chair and stared off at nothing.

“He…he killed two guards escaping and there are said to be many injuries to others. They lost his trail but he’s easy to stick out so he won’t be hard to find. Helena?”

Helena was vaguely aware of what Dinah was saying. The only words that made sense to her were “killed two guards” and “many injuries.” The rest was all foreign. With the words she did know, she knew what she had to do. She knew what had to be done and only she could be the one to get it done. It had to be her. It had to be. No one else could-or would do it.

“Yeah?” Helena kept staring ahead.

She felt like the whole world was spinning and she was outside above it all. She was on a whole other level than the rest of humanity.

“Are you okay?”

It slowly dawned on Helena that she wasn’t alone. She glanced down at the floor beneath her feet and quickly up at Dinah, so quickly she barely even caught a glimpse. Her throat felt thick as she realized what she had to do.

“I just need to be alone.”

Dinah didn’t speak right away and Helena knew that it was Dinah debating whether or not this was a time to push Helena.

“I don’t think you should be alone right now.”

“I’m sorry but I don’t really give a shit what you think Dinah.” Helena’s tone was quick and sharp like a whip.

Dinah looked like she had just been slapped and Helena couldn’t stand to look at it. She swallowed and kept her gaze forward.

“I don’t want you doing something stupid Helena.” Dinah planted her hand on the marble island and leaned closer to the conflicted hero.

“Like what?” Helena snapped her head over to look at Dinah.

The blonde parted her lips but no sound came out. She didn’t need to talk for Helena to know what she was thinking, it was all over her face. It was the way her eyes were no longer bright like the sky but dark like the sea. It was how tight her mouth was and the darting of her eyes. Helena knew they were thinking about the same night five years ago.

“Like kill Mandragora?” Helena’s voice cut like a knife on the second word sending Dinah recoiling back. “I never should’ve let that kid sucker me into letting his dad go.”

Helena shook her head, the answer suddenly spewing out of her in fumes. She was sure that if this was one of her Saturday cartoons, steam would be coming out of her ears and her face would be red.

“You did the right thing that night Helena.”

“Yeah and look where it got those guards.” Helena sneered.

Her entire body was tense with indignation as she breathed quickly.

“Those deaths aren’t on you.” Dinah’s voice was firmer than concrete but Helena knew that nothing was indestructible. (Not even Superman.)

Helena simply scoffed.

They both stayed in their respective spots in taught silence for several minutes. After almost 15 minutes Helena stood up. Dinah quickly straightened up and looked into Helena’s dark brown eyes that were practically black pits now.

“I want you to leave.”

She could practically hear Dinah’s heart cracking.

“But Helena-“

“I don’t need you to babysit me and I don’t want your company so just leave.” Her voice was harsh but she knew it needed to be done.

Dinah stood there staring at Helena in contempt. It was obvious that emotionally Dinah wanted to stay and be there for Helena for whatever she needed, and rationally she wanted to make sure Helena didn’t try to be judge jury executioner. But Dinah also knew that if she stayed she could potentially make matters worse.

Helena knew how Dinah’s mind worked just as well as Dinah did Helena’s.

Finally Dinah sighed and her still tense shoulders sagged. “I’ll just be outside if you need me.”

“I won’t but thanks.” Helena knew that was uncalled for but she couldn’t help it.

Dinah frowned like it was physically paining her to see Helena like this. Hell, Helena was sure it did physically pain her because she definitely felt that way about having to push Dinah away.

The blonde moved passed Helena to change back into her clothes. When she was done she stopped and hesitantly kissed Helena on the cheek. It was soft and felt like the one thing that could ground Helena to any sense of rationality.

But then Dinah left and all rationality went out the door with her.

————————————————

Dinah returned the next day to check on Helena. She was surprised to see her home but not surprised to see her already in her outfit. It didn’t take a genius to know what Helena was about to do.

Helena looked up from securing her utility belt on and her eyes softened. What was about to come next made her stomach churn violently. She was starting to think she wouldn’t be able to do this.

“Dinah, we need to talk.”

Dinah was all too eager to talk with Helena and the brunette hated it. A part of her pitied Dinah for thinking that she actually had a chance at changing Helena’s mind.

“Okay. What’re you thinking?”

Helena paused. She counted to ten and then answered.

“I’m thinking that we should break up.”

Dinah didn’t answer right away and Helena could understand why.

“Where…where is this coming from?” Helena opened her mouth so she could just rip the bandaid off but Dinah trudged on. “If you’re worried about my safety don’t because I can take care of myself.”

Helena swallowed and resisted the urge to confess that yes she was scared that Mandragora would try to get revenge on her by taking away the only thing she had left.

“It’s not that.”

Dinah’s bewildered expression about made Helena scratch the whole idea and say that it was exactly that. But Helena had to remind herself that it was better this way. Safer. Easier. Dinah would just be a distraction and she couldn’t have that.

“I’m just tired of this whole dating thing.”

Instead of hurt on Dinah’s face there was anger. Helena was relieved it was anger and not pain. Anger she could handle, she could be just as mean back. Pain? No way.

“Dating thing? That’s-that’s what you call this? That’s what you call this thing between us?”

Helena sighed as if this conversation was boring the ever loving shit out of her. “I’m not a relationship person Dinah. I usually just sleep around, I don’t know what I was thinking with you and Q. But it’s over. You won’t be in harms way of Mandragora and I won’t have to deal with a girlfriend.”

She was being heartless she knew but being heartless was the only option in this situation.

“No.”

Helena frowned. That wasn’t what she was expecting. Some crying and maybe even screaming but not no.

“No?”

“No. We’re not breaking up.” Dinah shook her head in finality.

Helena scoffed. “Come on Dinah, lets be adults about this.”

“I know what you’re trying to do and it’s not going to work.” Dinah raised her voice.

“And what’s that?” Helena’s voice was venomous.

She looked down and realized how close her and Dinah had gotten.

“You’re scared I’m going to get hurt so you’re pushing me away before you can lose me.”

Helena grunted and pulled away. “We’ve been through this already, I’m just tired of you. You being out of Mandragora’s way is just a bonus.”

That’s what did it. The moment Helena said she was tired of Dinah she saw Dinah completely crumble. All the anger in her body just fizzed out like a fire. Her shoulders sagged and her jaw fell. The worst of all was how big her eyes got. Helena could barely stand to look at how crushed Dinah was. But she knew to be able to sell this she needed to keep a straight, unwavering face.

A minute passed and Helena thought that Dinah would finally leave but she was thrown for a loop.

“I’m not leaving.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because I’m in love you with you Helena.”

Helena’s lips parted and her eyes widened.

Love. It was such a foreign concept to Helena. It had been so long since she last knew what being loved felt like, she wasn’t sure she could know what it felt like ever again. She had never felt love for anyone other than her parents, not even Q. So she had no idea if what Dinah said was true.

Was she even capable of love? The two people that did, ended up dying. Hell, not even long after being with Q, CADMUS kidnapped and tortured him. Helena was sure that she was destined to lose everyone she ever cared about. It reminded her that it was better to break things off now with Dinah before things went further.

Except they already had. Dinah said she loved Helena. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ Helena had a plan and she was sticking to it-now more than ever. Even if Helena was capable of love-if Dinah really did love her and Helena loved her back, it didn’t matter anymore. It was too late.

“Then you’re an even bigger fool than I ever thought.”

Dinah frowned and she collapsed even further into herself. Helena turned as if she was disgusted by Dinah which some part of her actually was. How could someone like Dinah possibly feel love for someone like Helena? It was wrong.

“Lena, don’t.”

“Go. Get out of here Dinah. Now!”

Dinah’s crystal blue eyes were shining and at any moment the dam would break and the tears would start cascading down. Helena didn’t want to be there for when that happened. She knew how stubborn Dinah was and decided to take matters into her own hands.

She left instead.

————————————————

Oliver was at his range just as Dinah had predicted. She was relieved that he was at the first place she looked so she wouldn’t have to waste time looking for him. Time that could be spent finding Helena and stopping her.

“To what do I owe this visit?” Oliver asked as he sheathed an arrow he was getting ready to pull out.

Dinah hated asking him for help but he was the only person she could trust. (Well, she could trust Helena too but this “mission” was about Helena so that ruled her out obviously.)

When she sighed it felt like her entire body was deflating. “I need a favor.”

“This sounds familiar.” Ollie teased.

Dinah grimaced as she prepared for what she was going to say next. “You heard about Mandragora’s escape right?”

Oliver frowned and crossed his arms. She could see the gears already turning behind his warm brown eyes.

“I did.” He looked down and shifted his weight. Dinah could see how uncomfortable he felt with what he was about to say. “Let me guess, Helena didn’t take it so well.”

“That’s an understatement.” Dinah muttered.

Dinah wished she could’ve convinced Helena not to leave because now she’s out there looking for Mandragora. If she had kept Helena there then maybe they could’ve talked things through. But when had Helena ever been someone to sit back and talk through things.

“I understand if you don’t want to help, but I need to find Helena and stop her before she does something she’ll regret. And we can’t get the league involved.” Dinah wanted to make sure Oliver knew what he was getting himself into if he helped her.

Oliver scratched his head. “This feels like deja vu.”

Dinah chuckled as memories of that night nearly five years ago came flooding back to her. Gosh Helena had been so infuriating that night. Actually, Helena was pretty infuriating in general. But once you got past all of that she was a lot of fun to be around and a good person. She fought to keep people safe, that was a good person right? Sure she was a little annoying but she wasn’t a bitch.

Who knew that Dinah would’ve gotten to know the actual Helena Bertinelli and they would be here. When Dinah thinks about it, like really thinks about it, there was always something there between her and Helena. That whole night Dinah and Oliver hunted down Question and Helena who were hunting down Mandragora, Dinah would feel this spark inside of her. She had thought at the time it was just the spark of the mission. Turns out it was more than that.

They had come so far. Dinah was in too deep with Helena. She was in fucking love with Helena. She only wished that Helena would listen to her and know that she didn’t have to be alone. She didn’t need to do this alone.

“So you want your ex boyfriend to help you find your girlfriend so she won’t kill a killer? Am I understanding this right?”

Dinah looked down at her boots and bit her tongue. She still didn’t believe that they were broken up. Helena only broke up with her so she wouldn’t get hurt, everything else she said was bullshit. When Helena got scared she pushed people away and acted like a cold hearted bitch. Everything she said she didn’t mean. She didn’t want to break up and Dinah sure as hell didn’t.

Helena could say they were broken up and act like they were broken up so she could think clearly but they were still together.

“Girlfriend status is to be determined.” Dinah settled on saying.

Oliver furrowed his eyebrows and after a beat shook his head. “Come again?”

Dinah huffed. She really wasn’t in the mood to discuss her relationship status with her ex boyfriend. She wanted to know if she had someone who would help her find and stop Helena.

“Are you in or out?”

Oliver must’ve sensed the urgency and Dinah not wanting to talk because his face softened and his back straightened. “I’m in.”

Dinah nodded her head. “Okay. Lets go.”

Dinah prayed that they found Helena in time.

————————————

“Gah! I already told you I don’t know anything!”

Helena jerked the guy closer by his shirt so their faces were only inches apart and scowled. He looked to be only in his late 20’s, early 30’s at most. His black hair was messed up from his scuffle with Helena and his brown eyes were full of sheer terror.

“Bullshit. I know you used to be a part of Mandragora’s security team. If Mandragora’s out, he’s going to be looking for exactly that. You have ties to what he wants. So spill.” She shook him for emphasis.

He cowered back as much as he could with the boxes behind him. His face was screwed up with sweat running down his forehead.

“I-I-I got out of that life. I’m not a part of it anymore. I have a job at the sports store down the street.”

“Save your new life speech for the cops, I don’t give a shit. Tell me where Mandragora is and I’ll leave you alone.”

“You think I believe that? You’ll kill me!”

“The only person I want to kill is Mandragora.” Helena narrowed her eyes at him.

The man scuffed his feet back but they only hit more hardwood boxes. “You crazy? He could squash like you a bug.”

Flashes of Mandragora ripping apart her parents came to mind. She blinked twice and masked her trauma with a scowl. She tightened her hold on the mans shirt and brought him even closer.

“Let me worry about my safety. Now, where is he?”

The man was trembling in Helena’s hands and she couldn’t tell who he was more afraid of, Mandragora or her. She needed it to be the latter.

Helena threw the man down the length of the warehouse causing him to crash into a table. Before he could get up she used her grapel to hit some boxes up top and crash down on him. He screamed out in pain as two heavy boxes crushed him. He squirmed underneath its weight and clung at the concrete, his nails chipping.

Helena kneeled down in front of him and flung her bow staff up against his throat. Immediately he started choking, his gargles filling the tense air.

“Mandragora can squash you like a bug and make it quick. I on the other hand can make your death very slow and very painful.” Helena slightly applied pressure to prove her point.

His hands flailed around aimlessly as he struggled to breathe. Helena kept her staff pressed against his throat for a few more seconds before allowing him a chance to speak. He immediately collapsed forward against the broken boxes and coughed. Due to his position he couldn’t massage his throat which made it take longer for him to compose himself.

“Like I said, I’m out of the life so all I hear is talk.”

“So talk.” Helena narrowed her eyes.

He swallowed hard and went back to his panting. “He’s supposed to be at some harbor, a boating dock. He’s leaving the states to be reunited with his son.”

“Which boating dock?”

He violently whipped his head back and forth. “I don’t know.”

“That’s not good enough.” Helena whipped out her hand bow and aimed it at his left hand.

He went into another frenzy as he tried to escape. “I-I-I-I don’t know I swear! I swear!”

Helena narrowed her eyes and analyzed him. His eyes had flicked to the right when he said it and his voice had escalated an octave. He was holding out on her.

Without a second thought Helena pulled the trigger. His blood curdling cries filled the empty night air.

“I’m losing my patience. Where is Mandragora?” Helena raised her hand bow again.

“Okay okay okay!” Helena slowly lowered her hand bow. The man panted a few times then licked his already soaked lips. “He’s at the Gotham boating docks.”

“How many men does he have?” Helena pressed.

“When I was involved he usually only had two. But with his escape that probably went up. My best guess is four.”

Helena sheathed her hand bow and bow staff then stood up so she was towering over him. “You’ve been most helpful.”

The first thing she did was knock him out with a single punch. Next, she pushed all of the broken boxes off of him and let him slide down to the floor. Then she took off towards Gotham Harbor.

——————————————

“The last time we faced Mandragora he was working on being reunited with his son. We should find out where Edgar is and all possible routes to him. That should tell us where Mandragora is.” Dinah typed away on her computer.

“Right. That shouldn’t take too long at all.” Oliver quipped.

Dinah stopped typing and moved around her computer so she could look at the emerald archer.

“Do you have a better way at finding Mandragora? Because if so I’m all ears.”

Oliver’s silence was response enough. Dinah turned back to her computer and focused on the task at hand. She needed to stay focus and not worry about the time or what was happening to Helena.

Dinah’s worst fear wasn’t even Helena killing Mandragora, it was Mandragora killing Helena. Her girlfriend was smart and perceptive as well as strong, but Mandragora was a literal beast. He was ten feet tall and all fat and muscle. He had superhuman strength and superhuman durability. Not to mention he was ruthless. Helena wouldn’t stand a chance against him. Dinah herself was lucky to get away with the injuries she had last time.

Helena was also fueled by rage and guilt, both of which can blind her thinking. Her fighting skills and weapons wouldn’t be enough to stop Mandragora.

Dinah shuddered at the thought.

“Dinah? You okay?”

Dinah looked up at Oliver and his concerned gaze. He reminded Dinah of a dog when it could sense its owners’ unhappiness. She smiled sadly and nodded her head.

“Yeah.” She didn’t sound all that convincing though.

“We’ll find her in time Dinah. Don’t worry.”

“I hope so Ollie.”

Dinah prayed that Oliver was right.

————————————

Helena’s informant had been right; there were four guards. Two were posted outside the limo Mandragora was residing in and two more were patrolling. Every ten minutes they would go in opposite directions, right out of sight of the two guards by the limo. All Helena had to do was pick them off with her hand bow and then attack the two guards at the limo head on.

That would only leave Mandragora.

Helena had five more minutes before the guards made their round. In those five minutes her mind wandered. She hadn’t wanted to hurt the guy back at the warehouse. Sure roughing him up a bit came with the job but choking him? Shooting him in the hand? She could still hear his cries of pain. She could still smell the blood.

She didn’t know how Batman was so comfortable with torturing people for information.

This was the right thing to do though. Five years ago she had wanted revenge on Mandragora but now it was justice. They had tried the legal way and it didn’t work. Two more people lost their lives to that monster and soon enough more would. He would always find a way to escape prison, to bend the legal system. There was nothing else to do but to put him down. Just like a dog with rabies.

The guard on the right end of the harbor caught her eye first. ‘Show time.’

Helena hopped down off her perch and ran to the right side first. She made sure no one else was around or could see, took her aim, and fired. He went down quietly.

She took off to the other end of the harbor and took out that guard the same.

She decided that having the element of surprise would be best so she waited until the two guards at the limo noticed the other two guards’ absence. Once they were ten feet away from the limo she dropped down and attacked.

As she jumped down she landed a kick to the first guard’s chest that sent him flying back into the limo. His head whacked against the window causing it to break. The next guard charged at Helena. She quickly knocked his punch aside and landed a punch of her own to his face. He stumbled back a few steps and tentatively touched his broken nose which was already oozing blood.

The guard growled and lunged back towards Helena. She side stepped him and kicked him in the back so he fell to his knees. Before she could attack again, the first guard came up behind her and wrapped his arm around her. Her arms were pinned to her sides due to the hold. During this time the second guard got up from the ground and turned back towards Helena.

She head butted the guard behind her resulting in his hold loosening. So she pushed out and twisted his left arm forward causing him to yelp. She flipped him over and he landed on top of the second guard. They were both down for the count.

There was a slow clap behind her that stopped her cold in her tracks. Her arms and neck erupted in goosebumps at the vibrations of the clap.

“Impressive. Those were some of my best men.”

Helena turned around as if she was bored. “You need better men if that’s the best you got.”

“Best I had on short notice.” He shrugged.

Helena scowled at his arrogance that was polluting the world. There he was, standing with his hands clasped behind his back and a smile in place. He looked smug, like he knew he was going to get away with his escape, which further cemented Helena’s decision. He was dressed in a red with black stripes suit that was too small in the shoulders and a few inches too short in the pant legs.

“I assume you’ve come here to put me back behind bars.”

Helena glared and angled her body slightly away from him. “Your son isn’t here to hide behind. I’ve come to do what I should’ve done five years ago.”

“So you wish to kill me. Is that it?”

Helena didn’t respond.

His laugh was cold and unsettling. It made every nerve in Helena’s body twitch and her stomach swirl. “Good luck with that my child.”

Helena gritted her teeth at the last two words. Her jaw tightened and flexed.

She attacked five seconds later. She made the mistake of running at him which led to him catching her foot in a roundhouse kick. He flung her to the side like a rag doll and crashed into a bunch of boxes. Already her body ached but she couldn’t give up that easily. She growled and got out her bow staff.

His laugh only egged her on. She charged and this time used her staff to push up off the ground and land her round house kick. His head smacked to the side. As she landed she immediately raised her staff and clobbered him under his face. His head went back so she jumped up and kneed him in the face.

Mandragora stumbled a few feet back but was otherwise unharmed.

‘Change of plans.’ Helena ran around him while he was regaining his balance and tripped him. He fell back and hit his head hard on the concrete. It was enough to leave him dazed and mumbling incoherent things.

She jumped on the hood of the limo and ran on top of the roof. She jumped down fully intending to impale him but he caught her midair. The abrupt stop by his hand caused her entire body to tighten and then go slack. He smiled as his fingers tightened around her slender neck and her eyes bulged.

Suddenly she was reminded of the man she had choked in order to be here and couldn’t think of how to get our of Mandragora’s hold. She could use her staff to break his hold on her and do a backflip but she was too deep in thought. So Mandragora ended up tossing her ten yards down the harbor.

Each time her body flopped against the concrete she could feel a bone snap or bruise. By the end of her roll her body felt like it had been put through the blender. Her groan made her chest ache. There was a ringing in her ears and she wasn’t sure if it was from her rolling or if there was permanent damage.

She could still hear though because Mandragora’s laugh from ten yards away reached her.

“You’re a fool for thinking you could defeat me. Just as your father was before I crushed his head.”

With a grunt and every bone aching, Helena got to her knees. She swayed and bent over but she wasn’t giving up. She looked up through her eyelashes and saw Mandragora grinning mercilessly. His suit jacket was torn and every button of his shirt was popped open. She could tell his head was bleeding in the back but he was walking around seemingly fine.

Slowly she got to her feet. She reached her hand to the back of her utility built and clasped her grapple. She never once took her eyes off of Mandragora and he her. With him not noticing, and as quick as a cowboy, she flung her hand out and fired her grapple. It wrapped around the car and with every bit of strength she had left, she pulled the limo on top of him.

The engine exploded and several boxes and shipping containers toppled over, a few landing in Mandragora’s vicinity. Helena collapsed back on legs and almost fell over. The only sound was the crackling fire and her erratic heartbeat.

A minute passed by with her only seeing black smoke. But then, emerging from the black smoke was a large figure. When he got out, his entire jacket was burnt to a crisp and his shirt was black. His pink eyes burned red as he ripped his shirt off and charged Helena.

Helena quickly got up and prepared herself for the punch to come. As expected Mandragora reached out to punch her but she deflected it with much effort. She twisted his hand causing his wrist to snap. He cried out in pain.

‘His wrists and ankles are vulnerable.’ It wasn’t much but it would definitely help.

She used all of her weight and strength to flip Mandragora over onto the ground. The earth rumbled from the slam and she karate chopped his stomach twice. Standing on top of him was a mistake though as he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her down.

His hold was bone crushing. Every broken and bruised bone ached causing Helena to scream out in pain. It was the worst physical pain she had ever experienced and it was so intense that her mind blurred. For a few fleeting seconds she thought she was going to be crushed to death like her mom.

But then she head butted him just like she had the first guard. His grip loosened and she kicked her legs until her feet collided with his shins. He yelped and she kicked harder and harder until he released her. She sluggishly rolled to the left and crawled to her staff. Her fingers had barely touched it before Mandragora yanked her back. She could feel skin on her left side and back tear as she was pulled back.

As soon as she was in front of him she turned and whacked him in the face with her staff. She saw a tooth whiz passed his crimson lips and felt a small sense of victory. She rolled out of the way and jabbed her staff into his left shoulder. He roared in response.

His giant white hand clutched her staff and ripped it out of her hands. The force caused her to stumble forward and be smacked across the face. She felt her eyes sting and her jaw ache worse than any bar fight. She raised her right hand to her face as she groaned. Blood dribbled down her chin and splashed on the pavement.

‘I’m going to have the worst headache ever tomorrow if I make it out of this alive.’

“Why do you do this child? Do you really think you have any chance against me? Do you think your father did as he swung uselessly at me?” Mandragora grinned.

Helena remembered her father standing in front of her mother as he tried to protect her. He swung and swung and nothing happened. Finally Mandragora just grabbed him and crushed his skull. She watched her fathers brains splatter and heard her mother’s cries. Mandragora picked her up next and slowly squeezed her just so he could hear her squeal like a pig.

Helena closed her eyes and tried to forget the horrific visions. She couldn’t let him get her riled up because then she couldn’t think straight. If she couldn’t think then she was for sure dead.

“He was still a better man than you’ll ever be.” Blood dripped from her lips as she spoke.

“Your father was a crime lord, just as I am. No man is above another.” He smiled callously.

Helena gritted her sore teeth and whipped out her hand bow. She fired one at his injured wrist and then at his shoulder. He roared and she got up to get better ground. She ran several feet away and waited for him to get up. He ripped the arrows out and slowly clambered to his feet. He was frothing at the mouth as he staggered towards her.

She narrowed her eyes and fired. One arrow whizzed passed his head and two more he flicked aside. But one arrow got him right above the armpit and another got his side. He grunted and worked on taking both of them out.

Helena quickly ran forward and kicked out so she pushed the arrow further into his side. He howled and threw his head back. She barred her teeth and delivered several punches to his chest. It felt like punching a boulder and eventually she had to give up. Her hands throbbed and shook as she staggered back. She gazed in horror at her mangled hands. Her knuckles were cut from her earlier roll and they were covered in blood. Both of their blood. She realized she did do some damage to his chest.

“You’re persistent just like your father, a far better fighter than your mother and those security guards.”

“Ah!” Helena went to punch him in the chest but he caught her hand.

His smile was sinister as he tightened his hold so Helena’s bones crumbled. Helena cried out and slowly dropped to her knees. Once she was down he kicked her so she skidded back three feet.

She reached for her her hand bow but her hand was so shaky and it wasn’t even her dominant hand. She raised it and tried to fire but missed every time, even when he was standing right over her. She was able to get one last arrow off and miraculously it glided across his cheek so his face started to bleed. He grunted and stomped on the bow so it crushed. He kicked her and sent her skidding a few more feet.

All Helena could do was lay there on her side and try to breathe. Even that was a feat. Her lungs burned and her chest ached. She was sure every bone in her body was broken or at least bruised and she couldn’t move her right hand. Her left eye was blurry and some of her hair was matted down with blood.

She didn’t think she could move. She didn’t think she could live. She couldn’t do anymore.

‘I failed. I failed them all.’

All those lives lost, and what for? For Mandragora to get away with it scot-free? Children lost their fathers and some had to witness it. Families were destroyed. People were framed and tortured. So many lives were ruined all because of Mandragora and he was going to get to do it again all with his son by his side.

Helena couldn’t let him win.

She understood why the League had a no kill rule and frankly she was happy they kicked her out because she wouldn’t have been able to do this. Some people were just passed redemption. Some things needed to be put down. If Old Yeller really was John’s favorite movie then Helena hoped he understood why she was doing this.

“It’s over.” Mandragora didn’t sound happy or smug, just sure. He believed what he said.

Helena grunted and lifted her upper body. She grimaced as her muscles screamed and torn skin burned. She got to her elbows and then her knees. She was panting as she staggered to her feet. She stumbled and about fell back down but regained her footing. Mandragora watched her with such intensity the entire buildup.

“It’s not over until one of us stops breathing.”

Mandragora smiled causing his eyes to slant. Helena’s vision was blurred and sweat and blood were seeping into her eyes so she could barely see his pink eyes. But she saw the coldness all the same and knew she had it in her. She had one more trick up her sleeve.

“As you wish.”

Helena charged, as much as she could in her state, and he lumbered towards her. He easily caught her and raised her until her feet were dangling. She started gasping for air as his fingers curled tighter and tighter around her neck. She blindly searched for the dagger on her belt and prayed it didn’t come out in her many tumblings. Seconds ticked by and it became harder to move, harder to think. Black spots were invading her vision.

“Tell your father I said hi.” Mandragora smirked.

Helena struggled to breathe. Spit and phlegm flew out and coated his hand.

“F…fuck…you.” Helena gargled.

His smirk widened. Hysteria seeped into Helena’s search for the dagger.

“HELENA!”

Both Helena and Mandragora’s head jerked to the side as they saw Black Canary and Green Arrow arrive. Canary was shell shocked as she stood atop all of the rubble. Her eyes were wide and her jaw was hanging close to the ground. Her entire body was slack.

Helena’s slow heartbeat kickstarted and started ramming erratically against her bruised ribcage like a bird trying to escape its cage.

‘No. Not Dinah.’

Helena’s eyes bulged and her breathing became even more ragged as she glanced around furiously.

“More people for me to crush.” Mandragora’s grip tightened on Helena in pleasure as he gazed at the newcomers.

Helena grimaced, her eyes squeezing shut. With a gasp she grasped the dagger.

“Get away from her dirtbag!” Oliver aimed an arrow at him and released it.

It was the perfect distraction. As Mandragora moved aside to miss the arrow his grip loosened and an opening under his belly was revealed. Helena plunged the dagger out and embedded it deep within his waxy skin. Mandragora gasped and his tiny pink eyes widened.

Slowly he turned his head to face Helena. With her nostrils flaring and mouth drooling she dragged the dagger up with a shaking hand.

“It’s poisoned…you ba-astar-rd.” Helena choked.

Even if the stab wasn’t fatal the poison sure as hell would be.

Mandragora’s strength was seeping out and his grip on Helena loosened until she plummeted five feet to the ground. She was so lightheaded and her entire body throbbed so she barely felt her head connect with the ground. She coughed, blood spurting out like a water fountain. Her head lolled to the side in awe at the gimmick.

“Helena. Helena!” Dinah sounded farther away than what she really was.

Helena couldn’t move her head to find Dinah, all she could do was raise her eyebrows in acknowledgment.

Dinah gasped when she saw Helena lying on the ground. Chunks of her cape was missing and torn and bloody. The rest of her outfit was ripped and had spots of blood and sweat all over. The top right side of Helena’s mask was broken off and her left eye was black. Her bottom lip was cut and caked in blood. Her right hand was limp and mangled at the side. There were cuts all over her body and chunks of skin missing. But the worst of all was the blood pooling around her head and foaming at her mouth.

She slowly collapsed next to Helena and just stared at her. She was in the brunette’s line of sight so Helena kept trying to open her mouth to speak. Dinah was so afraid to touch her. She didn’t want to hurt her any further or make anything worse. But her body was broken, she couldn’t possibly break her. Eventually Dinah’s need to hold Helena outweighed her fear of hurting her more.

With a hiccup Dinah picked Helena up and placed her in her lap so she could cradle her. Helena opened her mouth and more blood oozed out onto her chest and Dinah’s pants. Dinah closed her eyes and realized she was crying.

“Oh. Oh Go-d Hel.” Dinah choked.

Dinah looked down at Helena’s fragmented body and just lost it. She hiccuped and collapsed forward as sobs wrecked her body. It felt like her lungs were being squeezed.

“God Helena. Oh God.” She shakily inhaled and pulled the brunette closer to her chest.

Dinah looked down into Helena’s worn brown eyes and struggled to catch her breath. Snot was bubbling on her nose and tears were dripping down to mix with Helena’s blood.

“Di-“

“Shhhh shhh, baby. Don’t talk. Don’t talk all right? Help’s-help’s on the way. Okay? You’re, you’re going to be o-kay.”

Dinah turned around to tell Oliver to call for help. He nodded his head to say he already had. She tried to smile appreciatively but it just came out a grimace. It’s hard to smile when it feels like your heart is being ripped from your chest.

“Dinah.” Helena whispered.

“Lena stop.” Dinah sniffed.

“About what you said earlier,” Helena’s voice was so hushed that Dinah could barely hear her. “I wanted to say-“

“Baby this can wait.”

Dinah didn’t even know what Helena was talking about, all she knew she was that the brunette needed to save her strength.

“It can’t.”

Dinah huffed, her breath coming out incredibly shaky. Her laugh came out all wobbly and her body flinched. “You always were stubborn.”

There was a ghost of a smile on Helena’s face. The fact that it was there but so bare made Dinah feel like she was about to collapse and never get back up.

Helena opened and closed her mouth a few times, looking like a fish that was about die. Dinah frowned and tried to keep the tears in.

“I-“

Helena closed her mouth and struggled to swallow. A choked sob made its way out of Dinah and she tried desperately to shove it back down.

“I love, you-u…t-too.”

Dinah couldn’t hold it in anymore. She just started bawling.

Helena frowned. In her delirious state it hadn’t been the reaction she was expecting (nor wanting). She could tell that Dinah was upset but it was hard to grasp just how upset and she didn’t know why. Numbly she reached out for the blonde. When her right hand wouldn’t move she moved her left one. It felt odd to be using her left hand and it hurt her body to contort for its usage.

Dinah gasped as she saw Helena reaching out for her. Subconciously she leaned forward so Helena could reach her. Helena’s freezing, bloody fingers touched Dinah’s wet cheek sending shivers racketing down Dinah’s spine. The blonde closed her eyes and tried to remember the feel of Helena’s hand, even if it was unnaturally cold.

“My…my pr-pretty-y…bird.” Helena mumbled.

The sound that came out of Dinah was a mix between a sob and laugh and didn’t sound anything natural. She shook her head as Helena’s hand slowly fell limp against Dinah’s chest.

“Please Helena. Don’t leave me.” Dinah sobbed.

Dinah’s eyes were so blurry with tears that she could barely make out Helena’s lips silently moving.

I love you.

Dinah shook her head repeatedly and pulled Helena’s limp body flush against hers.

“Please Hel, please. Don’t leave me. Don’t leave. Please. Please don’t leave.” She kept calling out these words repeatedly as the sirens grew closer.

Dinah’s hands were cloaked in blood from holding Helena, especially her left one that had cradled her head. When she saw her hands she couldn’t handle it.

Dinah threw her head back and let out her sonic cry.

#dc animated series #justice league unlimited #helena bertinelli #dinah lance #helena bertinelli x dinah lance #also on ao3 under wankyyy #i just really ship them in this show and had been obsessed with a message by coldplay #gfaddamswritingcorner #oliver queen #mandragora dc

[mabyn-mabyn]

Like/Unlike (And Like Again) | Jinkook Fic

Title: Like/Unlike (And Like Again)

Pairing: Jungkook/Seokjin

Word Count: 18,822

Rating: M

Status: Complete

Tags: Instagram Famous AU, Introverts, Social Media, Meet Cute, Singers, Humor, Awkwardness, Romance

Summary:

Jungkook: if i like someone's post on insta and then unlike it really really fast will they still get a notification Jimin: OOH what did you DO tell us Jungkook: i was looking at this post from one of my fans and i accidentally liked it Tae: WAIT was it a dude and on a scale of 1-10 how hot was he Jungkook: you haven't answered my question??? Jimin: oh he'll definitely see your notif, kook ;)

Jungkook, Instagram-famous singer, doesn't date fans. Then he accidentally likes an old post by user Kim Seokjin. Panic ensues.

People who hate social media don't become Instagram famous.

"You wanna hear a new song, huh?" Jungkook asks, tucking a strand of dyed-purple hair behind one ear.

In his tiny studio apartment, he's both alone and not alone. Can't be alone, not with 56,000 people watching him. The number is dizzying, but the live broadcasts have gotten easier since he's learned how to pay less attention to the viewer count and more attention to the musical connection he's built with his audience.

Sure, before becoming Instagram famous, he spent 90% of his free time online, as any solid introvert might. He'd mostly been a wallflower though, lurking on other people's posts, watching their vids, laughing at their jokes.

But when he breaks out his guitar and starts to sing, a transformation comes over him. Suddenly he wants to be in the limelight.

Well, not exactly be the star, but just...share his music with other people. That magic. It's hard to define, but it's one of the few moments in which he stops feeling like an isolated atom adrift in the universe and more like he's a small part of a cosmic body breathing and existing as one.

"Let's see...I've been trying something out this week, but I'm stuck on the chorus. Tell me what you think."

He's sitting cross-legged on his narrow twin bed, the mattress sunken in the middle from years of use, with his favorite mood lamp casting colorful patterns over the ceiling. In his lap sits the same acoustic guitar he's been playing since he was twelve when his mother had finally, finally surrendered to his desire to switch from piano to guitar.

Sure, he could afford more with the money rolling in from his account sponsors, but he knows viral popularity can be short lived, so he shores up all the cash for an uncertain future and a shaky dream.

He does what he does for the love of it.

He closes his eyes and strums out a few variations on what he's been working on, a melodic ballad with a folksy vibe. The words are nonsense, but that's okay for now, it will come.

For a brief moment, the magic happens, and the guitar becomes a part of his body, and his voice blends together with the sound of the instrument. He ascends into that timeless space for a while before, just as suddenly, it drops away.

He opens his eyes, the room comes back into focus, and, clearing his throat, he scooches forward to read the comments.

Voice of an angel!

call me

What do you mean stuck on the chorus?? this one's going to the grammys!

jungkoookksdff you sexy af!!!

album WHEN

Jungkook grins happily. They like it.

Back then, his first, hesitant post—a 30-second clip of him singing a cappella in a shaky voice—turned into two, then three, and it wasn't long before he got addicted. Maybe he didn't have a lot of viewers at first, but he was finally "putting himself out there," the way Jimin and Taehyung always told him he should. Easy for them to say—there had already established huge follower counts as models.

But it turned out that he liked that feeling, the possibility that every time he posted, someone new would listen, would be inspired by him, would connect with him.

With each post, his popularity grew in dribs and drabs, and then all at once. And when the explosion happened, and the comments flooded in, and the hearts all blazed red, he found himself urged to do more, post selcas, share little notes, and offer stories to his followers. He isn't sure he's good at it, but his follower count, now reaching up to almost 950,000, says otherwise.

Jimin and Taehyung now joke that he's left them in the dust. His followers are drawn to his shyness, Hoseok always says, whose work as a choreographer in the idol industry has given him insight into what drives fan attachment. According to him, Jungkook is authentically awkward in a way that the slick influencers of YouTube and Twitter and Instagram can never quite mimic.

Jungkook leans closer to his phone as he scans through the questions that are coming in.

"Hmm...My tattoo covers my chest on one side and, well, much more," he answers one of the questions with a giggle.

It feels like hanging out with a bunch of friends who all really like him. It's hard to not be flattered. He's learned how to scroll past both the hate and the thirst comments.

The majority of his fans are actually quite sweet, posting heart emojis or complimenting his singing or asking him innocent questions. He loves it all. He's even, according to Jimin, sort of figured out how to flirt with his viewers.

"You what?" he asks in disbelief. "You want to see? I don't think so. I'd have to take off my shirt. Really?? Oh my god. You're all shameless. Okay, maybe just a little..."

He shifts around on the bed until his back is facing the camera. Thankfully, since the room is fairly dark, it's less embarrassing than it could be. Besides, it's not like he doesn't post thirst traps every other day, selcas of him wearing low-cut tanks showing off his collarbones or half-unbuttoned shirts hinting at the outline of his pecs. Taehyung's great at composition.

But taking off his clothes live while interacting with fans, no time lapse between what he's doing and the moment they see him, no editing the photographs or selecting the most appropriate one, feels more intimate and more scary.

He unbuttons the shirt just enough so that he can push it down his shoulder, giving the camera a look at the part of his tattoo that he's never revealed. It's an intricate floral pattern in a circular arrangement that brings out the shape of his muscles. He knows it's pretty.

Now his fans know, too. He thrills a little at the idea that they might find it attractive.

He turns his chin over his shoulder to peek at the camera. "You like it?"

He giggles again and tugs his shirt back up, then quickly redoes the buttons.

When he settles back into position and returns to his phone, the screen is overrun with comments. They're coming in so fast that he can barely make out what they say.

Hot as hell, Jungkook-ssi!

ooh, what is it? are they flowers?

that must've hurt!

You're so beautiful, please marry me

"Okay, one more song?" Jungkook asks, picking his guitar back up. He tucks a strand of hair behind his ear. "How about something older, since we just heard something new?"

Song requests stream in. "Okay, yeah, we can do City Streets."

He takes a deep breath before launching into one of the first songs that earned him a real following. For this song, he neglects the guitar as he belts out each verse in full voice.

Although he's sung it hundreds of times by now, he still connects with the passion of the song. It's not exactly that shimmery, excited feeling he had when he first performed it, but rather a matured ache layered with the experience of all its previous performances and everything that followed.

"That's a wrap!" Jungkook waves at the camera and offers his brightest smile. "I'll be posting another clip tomorrow, so look out for that! And if you don't already, please give me a follow! It keeps me going. All right, everyone, borahae!"

He puts on his signature outro track. He always waits a few minutes at the end of his lives before logging off. There's something bittersweet, both sad and energizing, about the array of goodbye messages his listeners leave him before they depart.

You improve every day, Jungkook-ssi

the image of your muscled back is gonna haunt my dreams tonight istg

TAKE MY MONEY!!!

aw, this song is such a fave ::pleading eyes emoji::

One reply comes in that's so long it fills the entire screen. Jungkook can barely scan it before it floats away.

Something about life being shades of grey, with each day indistinguishable from the other, but Jungkook's art—yes, the commenter had called him an artist—being the one dash of color that got them through.

Jungkook has to remind himself not to frown too much in concentration as he reads. Jimin always said it would give him wrinkles.

He catches sight of the commenter's name before it disappears from the screen—Kim Seokjin.

Okay, Kim Seokjin-ssi. Let's see who you are, Jungkook thinks to himself as he closes down his live.

He stretches his arms over his head and bends his torso to one side, then the other. He's cramped after sitting for so long and holding his body rigid. He shifts back to the head of the bed so he can recline against the soft pillows, and curls around his phone.

He scrolls through his recent posts one at a time until he catches a comment that user Kim Seokjin left a week ago on a selca he'd taken in front of the recording studio. Jungkook is standing outside on the sun-drenched sidewalk wearing a fitted black t-shirt, and yeah, it's a bit of a thirst trap, but his fans love those.

so very pretty, jungkook-ssi

Jungkook finds himself blushing. The comment isn't that different from the usual kind of thing he gets, but something about the approving tone of it in combination with the long, emotional missive Kim Seokjin had just blasted into his live stands out to him.

Curiosity piqued, he clicks on Kim Seokjin's username, and a barrage of selcas featuring a very, very handsome man floods the screen.

"Wow," Jungkook can't help but murmur out loud. Having as many followers as he does, he's seen his fair share of good-looking men. They're eager to pack his DMs with their best selcas or send him offers of, ahem, financial support. But Kim Seokjin is of a different class entirely. He clicks on one of the photos to enlarge it. Creamy skin fills the screen. "Wow."

The man's black hair is slicked back from a broad forehead, his full red lips are parted sinfully, face tipped back. But what most captures Jungkook's attention are his eyes, narrowed slightly, enhanced with smoky eyeshadow, and gazing directly at the camera as if captured in a moment of seduction.

A flannel shirt is stretched across broad shoulders, and it's unbuttoned enough to reveal a well-used blue t-shirt. The striking thing is that the man isn't even trying to be hot. It's not a thirst trap. He's not even alone. He's sitting in a cafe with a couple of friends who are chatting, relaxed, and seem blissfully unaware of the camera. Only Seokjin seems to know they're being photographed.

The camera clearly loves his face. And honestly, how is this guy not a household name? He's easily better looking than most of the actors Jungkook lusts over.

He jumps back to Seokjin's profile. 59 followers. So definitely not a star. He's just some guy. His bio reads part-time human, full-time sloth. overthinking never brought anyone peace. An idiosyncratic sentiment, but not technically untrue. Despite the flippant line, the man is clearly someone who overthought the point to begin with.

So: a reluctant philosopher. Age? Not given. Older than him by a few years, but possibly shy of 30. Married? Children?

Jungkook clicks back to the photos and scrolls through. Doesn't seem like it. The only other people who appear are the two men from the cafe, sometimes together, sometimes just one. They're attractive in their own way, he supposes, but they're normal people.

They make Seokjin seem like he might be a real person, too, and not some account that stole the photos of a model to establish a fake identity. The friends are tagged in a few of the photos, Kim Namjoon and Min Yoongi, and the Kim Namjoon one is always obscenely, expensively well-dressed. Interspersed with the sporadic selcas are snapshots of floral arrangements spotted on city streets and scenery from vacations.

He keeps scrolling down until he comes across one post that looks different from the others. Professionally shot, Seokjin's lovely frame is draped in a bold, printed silk shirt matched with trousers so soft Jungkook can practically feel the wool between his fingers. In the hands of someone who is clearly a professional photographer, Seokjin's striking looks blossom.

The stats on the image read 56k likes. Okay, wow. Seokjin's account may be obscure, but this post clearly enthralled people. The tagline reads, Changed up my day job today. Like it? The thirsty comments that follow reveal that yes, people liked it.

Seokjin could be a model. Part of Jungkook wonders why he isn't, but he also gets it. He loves sharing his music, and he needs an audience to do that, but the attention, the scrutiny, the need to perform aren't for him. Maybe this Seokjin feels the same.

He scrolls back up the posts and decides he prefers Seokjin's casual, everyday pics instead. In them, Seokjin appears relaxed and happy, like a regular person who was accidentally born with the face of a god and hasn't quite figured it out.

Jungkook lets his finger graze over one of the pics in which Seokjin is laughing, sprawled out on a sofa and covering his body with his arms as if protecting himself. Is the person behind the camera tickling him? It must be heady to make someone like Seokjin smile so big. Jungkook finds himself strangely jealous. He gets a little lost staring into Seokjin's beautiful eyes, and when he finally shakes off the spell, that's when he notices.

The little heart below Seokjin's post is filled in red.

Wait. Did he do that? Did he like Seokjin's photo? Jungkook? When?

He looks at his traitorous finger in horror. He must have clicked it accidentally when he was tracing the outlines of Seokjin's face. Hold on.

Tracing the outlines of Seokjin's face? Who does that? The little heart glares red at him ominously.

Then an even worse thought occurs to him: Seokjin will see his like. He'll see his like and know that Jungkook was scrolling deep deep through Seokjin's page. This isn't even one of the latest posts, it's way, way down there. Seokjin will know that Jungkook has been scoping him for—how long has it been? He glances at the clock. An hour. Ugh. He's never interacted with one of his fan's pages before.

That would be weird. This is weird.

In a desperate attempt to undo the mistake, he unclicks the heart. The red drains from it immediately, leaving an empty shape outlined in black. Jungkook breathes a sigh of relief.

Erased.

But.

Will Seokjin get a notification anyway?

He will, won't he? Jungkook gets so many notifications he doesn't even see them anymore, the first few usernames appearing in his feed followed by a "+ 500 more." But Seokjin with his 59 followers? He'll see every one of them.

Jungkook peeks at how many people have liked this post. Two. Okay, yeah, Seokjin will definitely see his notification. Fuck. Seokjin's going to think he's creeping on him. (He might be creeping on him?)

Jungkook if i like someone's post on insta and then unlike it really really fast will they still get a notif

Tae what did you do kook-ah

Jungkook i can hear the judgment in that question and im offended

Jimin OOH what did you DO tell us

Jungkook no it's embarrassing, just answer

Tae YES TELL US

Jungkook god it's not a big deal, but i was looking at this post from one of my fans and i accidentally liked it, and i dont want them to think, idk!! whatever they might think

Jimin relax kook you're not wonho or sth. it's not like gonna be in dispatch that you randomly liked some dude's post

Tae WAIT was it a dude ::eyes emoji:: and on a scale of 1-10 how hot was he

Jimin yeah was he hot is that why you were insta-stalking him

Jungkook i was NOT stalking him! See!!! this is exactly what i DONT want him to think you're proving my worries are valid

Jimin SO HE WAS A 10

Tae oooh link us link us link us we wanna see

Jungkook NO. and you haven't even answered my question??? WILL HE GET A NOTIF OR NOT?? this is why i shouldve texted hobi hyung

Jimin oh he'll definitely see your notif, kook-ah ;)

Read the rest on AO3

#bts fanfic #jinkook #myfic

[maximotts]

Hmm it's been a while since I read something with daddy Jane so "what's the matter, love? you get nervous when i look at you like this?"

god I've missed daddy!Jane

warnings: 18+ only; implied smut; office sex; groping; reader gets 1 (one) spank

•   °    +   °   • sexy dialogue drabble prompts!

The office at night should’ve been scary, but it wasn’t. You were used to late nights by now, none of the buildings rattling pipes or settling floors distracted you from your work. What did shake you was one Jane Banner and that look of hers. A fairly new transfer, from day one of working together, she took no shit from anyone, especially you. When you joked with her, sometimes she’d laugh, other times she’d roll her eyes and walk away. But then occasionally, those instances where you took something too far or maybe you’d made some dumb mistake that set you both back and you’d get the look. The one that warned you to stop immediately or else— what it was you didn’t know, but you weren’t sure you wanted to find out.

Tonight though, you seemed to be earning that look more than you had in all your time together, misstep after misstep earning you sighs of frustration and disappointment. Still the thing that made you most nervous was her face. Eyes steeled, staring straight into your soul, her jaw set with her lips pursed, it was the hottest sight you’d ever seen. It did nothing to calm your nerves or even do the task right again because shamefully, you wanted to catch that glare again and feel that promising spark between your legs.

This time you were having trouble finding the connection between the two subjects. You’d written it down, you knew it, but somehow it's disappeared on your mess of a desk. Jane had it; her desk stayed meticulously organized and she’d pull out the missing paper with no hesitation, the only cost being the reprimanding the blonde would give. You deserved it for how much you’d messed up, but the mere thought of her putting you in your place had you squirming in your chair.

With a shaky breath, you stood, walking over to where Jane sat quietly at her desk. Even lit by the dim lamp on the low table, she looked beautiful, focused on finishing her duties so hopefully you could both go home before sunrise. “Jane? I’m sorry, but I need help finding this file? I lost mine…”

She looked up slowly, lids lifting heavily to fix your latest problem. It was late and she was beyond tired, mainly from having to do not only her own work, but yours too. “Give it to me.” Placing the accompanying paper in her waiting hand, you stood awkwardly while she rustled through her own copies. Thankfully she always made extra. “There, you can have this one. If you lose it again we’ll have to print more.” Jane turned in her chair to face you and in the split second you dropped your gaze, the sight of her crossed legs made you want one of them between your own. You brought it back, but her expression wasn’t a safe place to look either; nothing about Jane Banner was. “Don’t make me print more.”

“N-No, I won’t… Sorry, again..” Your shifting caught Jane’s eye, one brow perfectly arched.

"What's the matter, love? You get nervous when I look at you like this?" Clearly you did, but she wanted to hear you say it. The way you squirmed, trying desperately to look anywhere but her… your nerves were obvious and you both knew it.

You were alone in the office, just the two of you stuck in a tense limbo. “Yes, it does.. You make me nervous.” There was no use lying, the detective knew the truth before she’d even asked the question.

She hummed, uncrossing her legs before leaning forward and quickly, shockingly, grabbed your hips until your outer thighs brushed Jane’s inner ones. It was the closest you’ve ever been, far from professional, and when you dared glance down the view of her breasts down her top, there was no hiding your hard gulp. “Eyes up here.”

“Yes, da- Jane!” The other woman caught the slip, control flashing dangerously in her eyes. Her palms ran up your thighs like they belonged there all along, passing the hem of your skirt without so much as acknowledging your little whine of protest.

To add one last push to your embarrassment, the flat of her hand met the curve of your ass with a slap, the sharp sound echoing loudly in the empty room. “Nuh uh, baby. I like the first name better.” You nodded meekly, pushing back against her hands as she boldly groped your ass. You were glad no one could see how quickly you were willing to give in to being taken by your partner, but there was such a sureness about her that made you crave her direction, her tight leash.

Jane was pushing your underwear down when you found your voice again, quiet and soft in the light air. “Please..” you didn’t know what you wanted exactly, but she could offer you anything and you’d be begging for it.

“You don’t need to beg yet, sweet girl,” She backed you onto her desk with no effort and you were spreading your legs before she could tell you. “Watch daddy while she shows you how to do everything nice and proper.”

#jane banner x reader #jane banner x f!reader #jane banner fic #wind river fic #drabble prompts #I'm gonna have to make a masterlist for these drabbles and I've been meaning to for WEEKS #jane banner #motts writes

[sukirichi]

no guidance

pov: you ask your step-brother to guide you in your first time 

part of the everything step cest collab by @dilfhub​ thank you for everything! 💕

note. lol this rotted in my drafts for weeks but i finally finished it eeeee

cw. virginity loss, sexting, mild corruption themes, fingering, oral sex (f. receiving), possessive! akaashi-ni, slight dumbification, pseudo-incest (step siblings)

You knew better than to associate with the likes of Miya Atsumu. As if him being one of the most notorious fuckboys in campus wasn’t enough of a warning sign, his reputation was also infamous for being the “Virgin Killer.” In simpler terms, he took pride in corrupting the innocence of whoever was foolish enough to fall into his trap, and yet there you were, bottom lip caught between your teeth as you shamelessly sexted with him.

Unsurprisingly, he’s asking for nudes. Again.

It had been approximately three months since you passed notes with the said Miya twin (and of course you liked the worse of the pair) before your friendship escalated into something...more sexual. It was no secret Atsumu had a high sex drive, something you were still foreign with, so you weren’t really taken aback by his open vulgarity over his desire to fuck you.

The first month, you were nice enough to sent him a snap of your titties. Albeit still a little shy over not having sent anyone such an intimate photo before, you were beyond exhilarated.

The next, you sent him a booty pic. It wasn’t anything sexy since you were only in your campus hoodie, the door locked because you didn’t want your parents walking in on you trying to get a good angle of your rounded buttocks.

And just last week, you finally gained enough courage to take a photo of your glistening pussy, sent with a caption of ‘thinking of you...’

Now, you weren’t stupid despite your preference to act naive and innocent. You knew your actions would entice him to lead into something more, if his dick picks that show him already leaking weren’t enough of a telltale already. But as your phone pinged and his name flashed above your screen, the words, ‘meet you at Issei’s party this weekend? I think I’ve waited long enough’ loud and clear – your heart dropped into your chest.

Without another thought, you shut your phone off and rolled to your side.

The thing was, you’ve never really had sex. You couldn’t even be brave enough to lose your virginity to your hairbrush or to buy a dildo despite your friends’ insistence it was much better than an actual cock (quote unquote: both can make you orgasm, but the former didn’t come with toxic attitudes of horny college boys.)

Sure, you’ve watched porn, and you watched a lot – but nothing could compare to the actual experience of it. Your fingers could only get you so far.

Glancing at your phone that kept lighting up with texts from Atsumu, you felt something stir deep within your stomach. Curiosity? Arousal? Nervousness? Excitement? Perhaps all a mix of both. You’ve heard from all the girls Atsumu’s slept with that even though he meant bad news, his cock could be likened of that of  a blessing that converted them into ‘I hate him’ to ‘Gosh, I wanna fuck him again.’ Addicting, they called him, and now you were being offered a path to being on a path that most likely had no point of return.

You sighed.

The saner part of you warned you to stay away. There was no rush to lose your virginity now. Just because most of your friends had enough experience, it didn’t mean you had to be the same as them. After all, you came from quite...a strict household.

While everyone had been away from their parents and independently living in their dorms, you still stayed under the same roof as your father and step-mom, along with your older brother who was only a year ahead of you. Akaashi was a very sweet presence to have that you didn’t mind not experiencing that ‘youthful freedom’ too much, simply because your brother was a better company than whoever you could room with. He was kind, always ready to help, and you could confidently say you trusted him more than you did your closest friends.

Maybe that was the reason why you knocked at his room past midnight, shifting your weight from one foot to another. The faint sliver of light peeking from the cracks in his door told you he was probably still working on projects and the like, really not a good time to bother him, but you couldn’t hold on any longer.

At the back of your mind, this was the right thing. He was the right person.

“’Kaashi-nii...?” you knocked again, aware that he had a habit of listening to music on full volume while studying. “Are you there? Oh, were you studying, I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to barge.”

Your brother stood in front of you, his headphones hung around his neck. He’d swung the door open to reveal that he was, indeed, previously hunched over his desk to work on something. Upon seeing the guilty expression on your face, Akaashi smiled at you in reassurance. “Hey, no, it’s fine,” he ushered you inside, setting you down at the edge of his bed while he sat across you in his swivelling chair. “Do you need help with homework again?”

“No...”

Turning away from him shyly, you opted to fiddle with your fingers as you stared at your lap. You had come here in a whim. You didn’t really think this through, and even though you’d been in his room a thousand times before, his dark blue sheets and tidy room that smelled sweetly of his detergent and vanilla cologne made you feel dizzy.

It didn’t help that he looked so mouth-watering in this light too.

Messy hair, long, slender fingers that absentmindedly spun a pen in those pretty hands of his, his dark eyes hazy and as welcoming as ever under the dim light of his desk lamp – how could you resist?

“What is it?” Akaashi quickly picked up on your silent worries. He’d always been observant, taking his role as your big brother seriously that he had attuned himself to sense even the slightest differences from you. Even though you’d only become family when you were already in middle school, it felt like you had known him for a much longer time than that, his warm hands rubbing soothing circles in your knees pulling the tension away from you.

“You know you can tell your brother everything, right? I’ll listen to you, you don’t need to feel scared or nervous.”

Guess it was now or never... “There’s this boy in my class...”

Akaashi’s eyes immediately darkened. All the warmth in his face disappeared, now replaced with a hardness you didn’t think was possible for such an understanding, patient guy like him. “Is he hurting you, forcing you to do something you don’t like?” his questions shot out one by one, and your eyes widened when he held you firmly by the shoulders. “Do I need to hurt someone?”

“No, no, it’s not like that!”

Your brother relaxed back in his chair. For a moment, your mind conjured up the dirtiest image of bouncing on his cock (and you know his cock is pretty after accidentally walking in on him changing clothes in high school) as he studied, but you quickly shook the thought away with a clear of your throat.

“What’s wrong then?”

You took a deep breath. “I just...I like him a lot and he asked me to have sex with him someday,” your words came out barely above a whisper, the courage seeping out of you until meeting Akaashi’s eyes felt impossible. “I said yes because of course I like him but...I’m afraid.”

“Hey,” Akaashi tilted your chin to look at him, his blue eyes pooling with worry and brotherly concern. “You know you don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with.”

“I just don’t want to disappoint him. I-I’ve never done it before and I feel like I won’t make him feel good. That’s why I came here,” you peered at him under your lashes, tongue darting out to nervously lick at your lips that felt uncomfortably dry. “You told me I could ask you for help in anything and you’re my brother so I trust you a lot to guide me on this one.”

The silence in the room was suffocating.

You were so close to running out of his room and pretending you didn’t exist for the rest of your life because what the hell were you asking? He was your brother, he obviously didn’t see you as a woman. You bet in his eyes, you were nothing but a little sister, and there really was no stopping him from kicking you out of his room until – “You want me to be your first time?”

You looked up at him so fast you actually felt your neck ache from the sudden movement. Heat spread all over your body, especially to your core at the unreadable expression in his eyes, yet it wasn’t...bad. He wasn’t rejecting you.

“Yes, please.”

Akaashi nodded at your hushed words. Slapping his palms to his knees, he walked to his bedside table where he pulled out an inconspicuous bottle with some sort of liquid you weren’t familiar with.

“Okay. Nii-san will teach you everything, but first, I need to prep you.” Fuck, fuck, fuck, this was actually happening!

You could barely process the events that happened next as he discarded his shirt to the ground, exposing his toned upper body to you from years of playing volleyball. While you sat there frozen and with a frantic beating heart, your brother barely blinked an eye as he gestured for you to take your clothes off. Wordlessly, you pulled your top off and shimmied out of your underwear. Too shy upon being exposed to a male for the first time in your life, you immediately headed towards his bed and closed your eyes, breath heavy and laboured as you waited for his next movements.

Akaashi’s hand went up to your knee, and you flinched at the contact, relaxing only when his soothing smile greeted you. “Lean back for me. Just relax and loosen up, okay? I’m not going to hurt you, Nii-san will make you feel good.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you did as he told. You were still shy, but you were feeling a lot less nervous. His hypnotizing gestures of caressing your thighs made you sigh in contentment as your head hit the pillow, legs falling open like it was second nature to spread yourself to your brother.

The thought had you biting your lip.

Before you could think too much about it, you felt a cool liquid being spread all over your lips. You gasped and clutched on the sheets out of reflex, staring forward as your brother stared at you cautiously, his lube coated fingers experimentally rubbing circles over your pussy lips. It felt so lewd for him to touch you like that – those same hands that always held yours in your weakest moments – yet it felt so good; the strange sensation tightening your chest.

“I-it’s cold.”

“I’ll warm it up for you,” he reassured, “How far have you gone? Any prior sexual experience?” Akaashi then began to playfully roll your clit between his fingers, eliciting a high-pitched whimper from you. He grinned at your reaction – so vocal for him already – and he was determined to hear more of it. “Ever tried sucking someone off?”

“No, but I’ve watched a lot of porn.”

“Porn is different from actual sex, baby,” the nickname fell so effortlessly from his lips that you didn’t dare question it anymore. Not that you could anyway, because the tip of his finger was prodding against your hole that was embarrassingly clenching around nothing. “How about here? Have you tried masturbating?”

“Don’t ask me such embarrassing questions!”

“You’re spread open for me already, you don’t need to be embarrassed,” You covered your face with your hands to hide, but Akaashi pried them away, his grip on your wrist both demanding yet gentle. “Tell me so I know how many fingers I can put inside you. I need to stretch you out.”

“Just one.”

“Louder, baby.”

“Just one finger,” you blurted out, finding it harder and harder to breathe the more he glided his fingers between your slit. Fingering yourself couldn’t even compare to the beauty of having him do the same to you, your arousal only heightened by his dedicated stare at your shaven pussy. From below your bodies, his pants had begun to home a tent.

“Two hurts a little bit and ‘em too sore.”

“What a tight cunt,” he commented with a smirk. “I’ll have to take my time with you then,” You nodded gratefully, about to smile at him with hearts in your eyes when Akaashi slowly slid a finger in. Your moan came out breathless and muted as you stared at him, mouth open in a silent gasp. The intrusion wasn’t anything new but he expertly pumped his finger in and out of it that your walls fluttered around him, head thrown back for another broken moan as he slid another digit. The stretch felt fucking perfect – the slight sting more than welcome in your virgin cunt that was now being fucked by your brother.

“Shh, it’s okay, it’ll feel better soon. Just relax.”

Openly, your slight squeaks of pleasure had increased in volume. Akaashi fingered you until he was knuckle deep, his other palm flat on your abdomen. Had you been in a better state of mind that wasn’t previously clouded with pleasure, you would’ve been embarrassed at the loud sloppy sounds of your pussy, but you remained there with trembling thighs, your nails digging at his thigh as you stared at him wide-eyed.

“Feels good?”

“M-more,” you begged through gritted teeth, “Nii-san, more.”

“Not yet, baby, you’re still too tight,” Sooner than you’d like, Akaashi pulled his fingers out of you. Both of you gazed at the webs of arousal between his fingers; your face painted in shock while he smirked at it, chest swelling with pride. Then, his eyes slid over yours, hooking his hands under your knees before he settled between your thighs.

“Come here. I’m going to go down on you.”

“Nii-san, no!” your protests fell on deaf ears, almost as if he knew you didn’t really mean it. His ears knocked with your knees locked around him, and you shivered as you felt his hot breath right before your burning cunt. “It’s embarrassing...don’t want you looking at my kitty like that.”

“Your kitty is very pretty and Nii-san wants a taste of you,” he mumbles while pressing kisses all over your pelvic bone, his sticky fingers massaging your inner thighs into relaxation. Your head pressed back harder on the pillows at the sensation, the pleasure too immense and he was just starting. “Didn’t you say you want me to teach you everything? This is just a few lessons you have to learn so don’t be shy. I’m sure you taste heavenly,” Clenching your jaw from the overwhelming bursts of ecstasy, you failed to notice how he dipped his head further, tongue darting out to lick a flat stripe. Your eyes blew wide open as he torturously and slowly dipped his tongue from your hole, the wet and warm muscle licking all the way up from your slit until the clit. “See? I told you. Heavenly.”

“’Kaashi, ‘Kaashi, oh, oh!”

“You sound so pretty but don’t be too loud,” Somehow, he managed to raise his arms and placed a palm over your mouth. “We don’t want Mom and Dad to overhear.”

Your legs trembled around him until you nearly suffocated him, but how could you stop when he was rolling his tongue side to side, licking and cleaning up the previous wetness he’d pulled from you?

It was too much, too good, and soon you were moaning behind his palm as you came all over his face.

Akaashi greedily slurped up the juices that squirted all over his face, unbothered by the mess you’ve made. He didn’t stop until he was sure you were completely clean, and you were already on the brink of overstimulation when he locked his lips around yours, sucking whatever he could take. Unable to take it any longer, you pushed his head away and fell on your side in a desperate attempt to catch your breath, sending him a seductive glare, only to soften as you his lips, cheeks, and nose shining under the moonlight.

“Nii-san, your face—”

“It’s okay, I’ll clean up for later,” he shrugged it off and stepped out of his sweatpants, ripping a condom you didn’t even notice he had. You watched with baited breath as his cock sprung free, the tip red and glistening with pre-cum. Akaashi rolled the condom over his throbbing cock and situated himself before you, pumping his length a few times before aligning it with your hole, sending you one last look of approval.

“You ready for my cock now? This might hurt a little bit. You just need to relax and I’ll go slow, okay? Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable.”

Nodding, you made yourself comfortable and braced the sheets for preparation, wincing a little as he pushed the tip in. Akaashi felt you clamp down on him, his hips stilling just as he loomed over you, his arms resting beside your head. In this position, you could see each detail of him – the thickness of his lashes, the love blooming in his eyes, the sweat beading in his forehead and everything soft and slow written all over his face.

“Still okay? I can stop if you want.”

You shook your head and wrapped your legs around his waist to pull him closer. He raised a brow at your initiation, but you merely smiled at him to hide the mild discomfort. “I can take it, just keep going.”

A few minutes later and a hundred still good? later, Akaashi had slid himself in. He allowed you to get used inch by delicious inch until he was completely seated inside you, hip pressed to hip and his hand caressing your cheek. “You’ve done so well,” he praised, “How does having a cock stuffed in you feel?”

“S-so full,” you replied numbly, the feeling of him throbbing inside your heat so fucking delicious. “Love nii-san’s cock.”

“Yeah? I’ll give you more then,” he warned, and you knew you couldn’t go back anymore when he placed his palm flat beside your head. Akaashi began to move his hips, slowly at first to let you accommodate to his length which your pussy hugged greedily. You were moaning left and right and his groans above you was erotic enough to make you cum on the spot, the pleasure doubling as your pebbled nipples grazed his toned chest.

“Nii-san! So big!”

“I know, baby, you’ll get used to it, don’t worry. It’ll feel better soon,” he rasped, scowling when you raked your nails down his back, though not hard enough to draw blood. It would definitely leave a mark though, and the pain of it urged him to move his hips faster, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through his room that began to warm by each passing second. “Feel better?”

“Feels so good,” you cried around him, reaching up to bury your head in his neck and clinging to him like a koala. It did feel so good, so much so that you just might get addicted to this. “Love Nii-san’s cock.”

At your words, Akaashi’s patience that thinned a while ago completely broke.

His pace increased and he gripped your hips tightly, sitting back on his knees just to watch his cock slide in and out of you. The lube made sex feel a hundred times better from how easily he’s easily punching through your walls, the sight of you splayed out for him – hair strewn across the pillow, little whimpers leaving your lips, breasts bouncing right before his eyes and abused pussy lips hugging his shaft – it made him growl with possessiveness.

“This is how you should be fucked – you gotta be fucked right,” he announced, thumb coming down to rub your clit. As expected, you cried out and tightened around him.

He faltered for a moment at how tight you were, but he kept pushing, driving his cock in and out of you until he turned into you a sobbing, slobbery mess.

“You sure that boy of yours can make you feel this good?”

“N-no, Nii-san’s cock only!”

“That’s right, it’s just gotta be me, okay?” driving both his hands around your neck just to clench your airway as a warning, Akaashi fucked you harder than before. The sudden inability to not breathe made you impossibly tighter around him that you felt each ridge and vein kissing your bumpy walls. “Say it. Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours, I’m Nii-san’s property!”

“I’m gonna mark you as mine, claim this pussy as Nii-san’s only, yeah? You want that?”

“Cum in me, ‘Kaashi, cum inside!” you prompted, and what good of a brother would he be if he didn’t grant his little sister’s wishes? Growling, Akaashi snapped his hips hard until the tip of his cock successfully kept repeating that sweet spot in you that you didn’t even know you had. You were crying, moaning, too fucked to respond as you came, and your lewd expression was all it took before he was releasing his cum inside the condom. “Kaashi, Kaashi, ah!”

Akaashi quickly pulled out his cock and took a minute to regain his breath, his head cradled on his hands at the earth-shattering orgasm you both had. Not a moment later, he’s tying his condom and throwing it to his bin, finding his way right beside you as you blinked sleepily at him.

“Are you okay? Did I hurt you?”

“No, you were great. Just tired.”

“Do you want to sleep in my room tonight?”

You smiled at his concern, pulling him in closer for an embrace. He was warm and sweaty that it felt uncomfortable, but you wanted him beside you, and Akaashi began to caress your hipbones with so much tenderness. He knew he was a little rough for losing control like that.

“I’d love that, thank you,” you mumbled, more than ready to call it a night and sleep when his weight shifted off the bed. Akaashi rummaged through something in his drawers before he disappeared in the bathroom for a bit, coming back to spread your legs open once more. “Wh-what’re you doing?”

“It’s called aftercare. If your partner can’t provide this and pamper you, I suggest you break up with them,” he snickered, and you hissed at the sensitivity as he wiped away your cum with the towel. You soon relaxed, however, all thanks to Akaashi’s doting nature that you were falling asleep on his bed, allowing him to clean you up as he pleases. He set the towel aside and snuggled right next to you, his nose bumping your jaw to pull you away from dreamland for a little while. His previous sexual aura had now dimmed; his brotherly concern present again. “You still want to fuck your classmate?”

“Hmm...he’s really handsome, and I heard from the other girls he’s got a huge cock too,” you giggled, not really aware of your words as you said, “Probably even bigger than yours.”

Thinking that he might be offended, you almost apologized after a moment, but Akaashi only laughed as he hugged you tighter. “Size doesn’t matter. It’s who owns the cock and their talent in pleasuring their partner that matters,” he confidently stated, fingers running up and down your spine that brought chills down to your toes as he nibbled on your ear. “And I know I fucked you so good he can’t compare.”

#akaashi x reader #akaashi keiji x reader #akaashi keiji smut #akaashi x reader smut #akaashi keiji x reader smut #haikyuu!! #haikyuu! x reader #haikyuu! smut #haikyuu!! smut #haikyuu smut #akaashi keiji #haikyuu x reader imagines #haikyuu x reader scenarios #akaashi x reader imagines #akaashi x reader scenarios #akaashi keiji x reader imagines #akaashi keiji x reader scenarios #hqcest #tw: stepcest #tw: incest #tw: dc

[professorrw]

hii can you do a professor loki x reader smut !! where she is being a tease and he punishes her over his desk with degrading or teasing ? thank you !!! 💘💘

Pairing: female reader x Prof!Loki

Requested: Yes

Warnings: smut, 18+, oral (male receiving), unprotected sex, pet names (kitten, darling), age gap (reader in college, Loki is 40), some degrading, light edging, fingering, swearing, begging

A/N: Requests are open for one-shots, headcanons, imagines, and drabbles for My Hero Academia, Harry Potter, and Marvel! My taglist is open so if you’d like to be on that just tell me! Please like, comment, and reblog!

You were a broke student going to a prestigious college. Of course that school had the best professors. At least that’s what you had heard. But you weren’t prepared for one of your professors to be so hot. Compared to your other teachers he was one of the youngest at the ripe age of forty when you were in your senior year.

Everything about him just screamed sex appeal. You weren’t one to judge someone solely on appearances but damn, he was fine. He had a sexy British accent and dark black hair and the way he rolled his sleeves up showcased his arms in just the right way. It didn’t help your concentration when he wore those tight black khakis that squeezed against his ass.

To help pay for your college tuition you became a teachers’ assistant. You did a lot of work for Professor Laufeyson and soon something began to bud. At first it was just friendly banter but then it developed into more. By the end of the school year you and your professor had a secret relationship. It was easier to keep it a secret because you were a teachers’ assistant. You could go to his classroom after hours and no one would bat an eyelash.

Over the summer your romance really hit it off. By your senior year you two were still going strong. So strong in fact you would tease him during class. It was blistering hot one day, which gave you an excuse to wear a loose top and a skirt. When you leaned over your desk the top was just low enough that your cleavage would be on display.

When he was doing a lecture and caught sight of your chest his breath would catch and he would falter, then go straight back to teaching. After class though when you came back to drop off papers you knew what was going to happen.

You knocked on the door to his office and he called for you to come in. You stepped into the room which was only lit by the lamp next to him. The lamp shade casted his mahogany desk in an orange glow. His walls were lined with the same material of bookshelves, which were filled with a variety of books.

He was grading assignments but when he saw you he set his pen down and sat back in his chair. He took off his reading glasses and set them down on top of the paper he was previously looking at. He crossed one of his legs over the other and intertwined his fingers in his lap. His polished black shoes were bobbing up and down and tapping on the floor.

He gave you a sultry smile before he started talking. “You’re very naughty. I saw what you were doing earlier. Were you trying to tease me darling?”

“Maybe.”

He ‘tsked,’ “I think you’ll need to be punished. Don’t you agree?”

“I suppose I do.” You were looking forward to the so-called punishment. It wasn’t actually a punishment at all. He would bend you over his desk and fuck you until you couldn’t walk anymore. In your book that was a treat.

“Sassy little thing aren’t you? Well, you know how this goes,” he said. He picked up his stack of papers and put them in his seat which he had stood from. He set the books in a stack next to his desk and put the lamp on top of it. From the new position of the light it was harder to see than before. The light was still on the ceiling and the sides of the desk, but it wasn’t as bright as earlier.

You indeed knew how this went. You walked to his desk and bent over, plump ass sticking out just for him. He walked around his desk and placed a hand against your ass. He let out a low chuckle.

“No underwear darling? I hope you haven’t let other people see your tight little pussy.”

“I haven’t. It’s only for you,” you said.

“That’s what I like to hear.”

He rubbed and pinched your butt cheeks before he even went near your vagina. He slotted his hand between your legs and pushed your feet so they would be further apart. He ran his thumb along your folds before he put it inside you. You started moaning as he moved his thumb around inside you.

“Let me hear you kitten,” he purred.

You moaned more as he increased the intensity of his movements. He took his thumb out and added two other fingers. He curled and scissored and pumped them in and out, doing everything he knew would make you cum. You were gripping the edge of his desk and he was fingering you so intensely in a few minutes of his cooing and your moaning you were about to reach your orgasm.

“I’m- I’m about to cum.”

“Not yet kitten. You’ve been naughty.” He pulled his fingers completely out of you, making a whine come out of your lips.

“Being needy will only make your punishment worse. Do you want me to stop?” he asked.

He had built you up until you were seconds away from coming and then stopped. Of course you didn’t want him to stop. You wanted him to put his fingers or dick in your vagina or else you would finish yourself off.

“No. Please- Please fuck me. I’ll stop being naughty,” you begged.

“You like it when I fuck you?”

“Yes- Yes. Please-” you were cut off by something being pressed against your slit. He had unzipped his pants and lined himself up whilst you were talking.

You pushed the rest of his length in by the time he was fully in you were close to your orgasm again. He immediately started thrusting, fulfilling your need for him. He wasn’t going to go easy on you at all. He was already going fast when he started and he had to hold onto your shoulders for support. His balls were slapping against you at every thrust, filling the room with grunts, moans, and the sound of slapping.

Loki himself wasn’t the type to last rounds and if he really wanted he could cum quickly. He intended to cum right after you did so when you screamed out he knew it was time. Your cum spilled out and covered his dick, creating less friction.

Just moments later his seed squirted into you. After a few more slower thrusts he pulled out, cum dripping with his and your cum combined. You turned around slowly, trying not to aggravate your sensitive pussy. There in front of you was Loki, who hadn’t pulled his pants back up and had his dick just hanging out.

“Why don’t you make it up to me and clean this up?” He motioned to his cock and you eased yourself onto your knees. You licked and sucked on his dick until all the juices were cleaned off. When you were finished you stood back up and Loki pressed a kiss to your lips.

“Thank you kitten. Do you want to stay for a drink?”

You stayed for a few more hours and had a drink with your professor until you had to go back to your apartment for the night.

#marvel oneshot #marvel x reader #marvel smut #marvel fanfiction #marvelsmut #marvel one shot #marveloneshot #marvel #loki x yn #loki x you #loki fluff #loki fanfiction #loki x reader #lokioneshot #loki oneshot #loki smut #loki laufeyson #loki #tom hiddleston #loki imagine #avengers x fem!reader #avengers fic #avengers x you #avengers oneshot #avengers x reader #avengers smut #avengers fanfiction #avengers #fanfiction with smut #myfanfiction

[helloalycia]

my patient’s neighbour [three] // wanda maximoff

summary: your relationship with Wanda gets a little bumpy when her work life crosses over with your personal life.

warning/s: implied kidnapping, mentions of anxiety

author's note: so the ‘i love you’ confession was actually inspired by an incorrect quote on @aquamarinescarlet’s page! i thought it would be cute aha

part one | part two | part four | part five | part six | part seven | masterlist | wattpad

It was two months into our relationship when I knew I'd fallen in love with Wanda. I can't remember the exact moment when it hit me – I guess it had happened gradually over time – but I remember the embarrassing moment when I told her.

She'd brought me as her date to an Avengers party thrown by Tony Stark. I'd been to one of them before, about a month into dating her, as she'd wanted me to meet her friends from work AKA the freakin' Avengers. They were actually really great and (somewhat) humble people. I didn't expect to become 'friends' with any of them, more just be friendly whenever I saw them through Wanda. To my surprise, I became quite good friends with Natasha Romanoff.

We had the same dark sense of humour, both had an unexplainable obsession with horror films and she was genuinely just really easy to talk to. I wasn't expecting it, but it was nice to gain a new friend in addition to a new girlfriend.

So, I was at my second Avengers party with Wanda by my side, but the party had ended about half an hour ago and I may or may not have been drunk.

We were sat on the couch, conversing with the other Avengers, and I was sat between Wanda and Natasha. The others were involved in their own conversations and I was too dazed to realise what I was doing until it happened.

"Wanda has no idea I'm in love with her," I said (not-so) quietly, leaning over to my left, into Wanda's ear unknowingly.

Wanda, who was playing with my fingers in her hand, paused and glanced to me with bright eyes, a surprised expression on her face.

"You're in love with me?" she asked, lips twitching into a smile.

I blinked, her words settling in, before I licked my lips. "Oh, sorry." Turning to my right, I moved to Natasha's ear, whispering loudly, "Wanda has no idea I'm in love with her."

Natasha glanced to me with a quirked brow, amused smile on her lips. "She doesn't? You sure about that?"

"You're in love with me?" Wanda repeated, sitting forward and earning my attention.

I gasped, wondering how she knew, before slapping Natasha's arm and looking to her with a frown. "You told her?! I trusted you!"

Natasha ignored me, instead looking to Wanda with an encouraging look. "I'll leave this one to you. Good luck."

She stood up, heading over to Thor and Bruce Banner on the other couch, and I booed her as she left.

"Yeah, run away, you secret-give-away'er!" I called after her with a pout, before crossing my arms.

"I think it's time I take you home," Wanda said decidedly, trying not to laugh as she pulled me up off the couch.

"I don't like Natasha anymore," I mumbled, allowing Wanda to take me away.

She bid her goodbyes to her teammates before leading me to the lift. I don't really remember what else happened until we were suddenly at my house – well, my parents house, but they had given it to me as they travelled the world with their retirement money. She was leading me inside and to my bedroom, getting me dressed like the sweet girlfriend she was, before tucking me into bed.

Of course, being the clingy drunk I was, I pulled her on top of me and didn't let go as I wrapped my arms around her.

"Stay," I mumbled into her shoulder, closing my eyes.

She chuckled, trying to pull away. "Y/N, you need to sleep, c'mon."

"I will," I whined, not letting her leave. "If you stay with me."

She paused, before giving in with a sigh. "Fine."

Tiredly, I smiled. "Yesssss." I patted the spot next to me. "Right here, please."

In the light of my bedside lamp, I saw her roll her eyes playfully, before turning off the lamp and jumping under the covers with me. I sighed with relief, cuddling into her side without hesitating.

"I love you," I mumbled, barely thinking about it.

She tightened her embrace and I felt her kiss the top of my head. "You're probably gonna forget you said that in the morning. But I'll remind you. And if you still think it, then I'll reply."

Her words went into one ear and out the other. I hummed in response, not knowing what I was answering to, and let myself get lost in her scent as I drifted into a peaceful slumber.

When I woke up the next morning, I quite liked the idea of sharing bed with Wanda and waking up to her dishevelled hair and our intertwined legs, even though I didn't remember inviting her to stay. Of course, I also had a banging headache and felt like someone had hit me with a train, so I didn't get chance to appreciate it much.

"Fuck," I mumbled, pulling the duvet over my head to block out the sun streaming through the slit in my curtain.

Wanda, who was shuffling beside me, yawned and stretched her arms. Suddenly, I heard quiet laughter, before she spooned me, wrapping her arms around my stomach and pulling me closer. Her leg raised and clung to my waist, and as much as I appreciated the way she fit perfectly against me, I was still in pain.

"Why did you let me drink that much?" I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I believe that was your own conscience decision, dorogoy (darling)," she said in that know-it-all voice of hers, and it was hard for me to be annoyed at her because she had a raspy, morning voice and her accent was especially thick with fatigue and damn, Wanda Maximoff was pretty sexy in the morning.

"Whatever," was all I said, but I placed my hand on hers and joint our fingers together.

"You know," she started, tucking her head comfortably into my neck, "I quite like waking up to you like this. You're very cute, even if you're cranky."

Despite aforementioned crankiness, I cracked a smile. "I like this, too."

It was very domestic, something I didn't get the privilege of experiencing with Wanda because she worked a lot, and it felt good.

After hanging around in bed for a little while longer, I got up and showered whilst Wanda offered to make me some breakfast – "Pancakes are a hangover's cure! Or at least according to Tony". After getting ready, I came downstairs to find a stack of pancakes and maple syrup waiting for me.

"You are a Godsend," I told her, pressing a haste kiss to her lips before sitting at the table with the pancakes. "Thank you."

She chuckled, grabbing her own pancakes and sitting opposite me. "Anything for you."

After I dug in, complimenting her on how delicious they tasted, a comfortable silence fell between us. Well, until Wanda spoke up cautiously.

"So, does anything from last night ring a bell?" she asked, making me look up to see her staring eagerly.

My content expression fell. "Shoot, did I do something embarrassing?" I facepalmed. "God, what was it? Did I fall asleep on somebody?"

She smiled with adoration, eyes twinkling in the morning sun. "No, nothing like that."

I could tell there was something though, judging from her hesitant expression. I scrunched my face with regret.

"What did I do?" I asked, unprepared to hear it. "Did I say something to you?"

She played with her fork, twisting it around in her plate nervously, which was very unlike her. "Yeah, actually, you did."

I waited, feeling like the silence was deafening the longer she stayed quiet.

"You said you were in love with me," she said, voice so soft and quiet that I barely heard it.

I felt my heart drop to my stomach. "I what?"

"I mean, technically you said I had no idea you were in love with me, but I think you were supposed to tell Nat that," she continued, eyes avoiding mine. "Then you told Nat and you got mad at her because you thought she told me."

I facepalmed for the second time that morning. "Oh, God..."

"Then you invited me to stay the night and told me you loved me before you fell asleep," she finished rambling. "I just, er, wanted to check if you meant that..."

I raised my eyebrows with disbelief. "Are you kidding?" I reached over the table to grab her hand. "Wanda, of course I meant that! But I hoped to tell you at a better time than by accident whilst I was drunk."

Blue eyes flickered to mine, excitement creeping onto her face. "You meant it."

I breathed out, realising what exactly I'd just said. "I– yeah. I meant it. I'm in love with you, Wanda."

Her smile widened. "I'm in love with you, too."

My heart fluttered in my chest as I relaxed my shoulders. "You love me."

She giggled, squeezing my hand. "We just did this."

"Right! We did," I said, shaking my head, grin forming on my lips. "Sorry. I'm just so happy right now."

"Me, too," she said in agreement, thumb stroking the top of my hand.

I didn't think things could go wrong from here. I was on top of the world! But of course, the world had a funny way of ruining things.

—

Dating a superhero had its pros and cons, I suppose, but neither really showed themselves to me often as it was as if Wanda's superhero life was separate to the one we shared. When she and I were together, it was just us. And she would leave for work and I wouldn't think about it. Then she would return and it would be us again.

If I took a moment out of my day to stop and really think about where she was, what she could be doing, the danger she could be in... I just couldn't do it. Even when she would show up to our next date with a fresh bruise from training, or a broken bone from a mission gone too far, I'd worry about it for the time being then try to let it go. Those weren't superhero perks, those were reasons to be concerned. And I couldn't handle imagining the time when she'd come back to me in a worse state, or to not even come back at all.

So, her superhero life rarely overlapped with our shared one. And I was happier that way. Until it did.

I was running errands one day, little things that required me to run around the city – dry cleaning, grocery shopping, picking up some DIY stuff for my house. It was a pretty relaxing, fun day. I'd treated myself to lunch, was soaking in the sunshine and planning to unwind with some Netflix on the couch.

"Hold on, I need to unlock the front door," I mumbled into the phone. I was talking to Wanda, catching her up with my day as I returned home.

"Try not to drop your phone this time," she teased from the other end, and I could just imagine the smirk on her face.

"So funny," I said with an eye roll. "Real comedian."

She laughed as I placed my phone in my pocket, not quite hanging up. Pulling my keys from my shopping bag, I fiddled with them, attempting to find the key for my front door.

Suddenly, something metal and cold pressed to my back and I jumped, dropping my keys with surprise.

"Don't draw attention," the person said, and I went rigid, looking up to see a reflection of someone unrecognisable in the glass of my front door. "You're going to leave your things here and come with me."

"Who are you?" I asked, trying to turn around, but the object pressed harder into my back, making me wince.

"Leave your fucking things here and give me your hand," the man ordered, ignoring my question. "Phone included. And don't even think about making a call."

I swallowed hard, panic settling in as I listened to the threatening stranger. Pulling my phone from my pocket, I realised that the stranger had no idea I was already on a call. With an Avenger nonetheless.

"I'll put it down," I narrated my actions, soon coming to realise that the object behind my back was in fact the barrel of a gun.

Hoping Wanda was still listening in and could hear the exchange, I put my phone on the ground and placed my shaking hand in the man's outstretched one. He tucked his gun back into the waistband of his jeans before tugging me down the steps and to a black van parked opposite my house.

Too paralysed with fear at the sight of two more strange men getting out the van, I felt my throat go dry and words get stuck at the bottom. Looking around, I hoped to find a neighbour's eyes or dog-walker's lost gaze, but nobody was here. Whoever these men were had timed their entrance perfectly.

When we reached the van, the back doors were opened and the man spun me around roughly before placing a bag on my head and shoving me inside. Hot tears ran down my face as I squeezed my eyes shut, wondering what the hell was happening and who these people were. But mostly, I hoped Wanda was already on her way.

—

The whole incident was over soon. That's what we were calling it now. The 'incident'. Of course, it could have been called other things... the kidnapping, the abduction, the capture. But we settled with the 'incident'. It was less explicit, as if minimising how utterly terrifying the whole experience was.

I never did find out who those men were. Wanda offered to tell me, feeling a need to explain herself and blame herself and drag herself down in the dirt to make me feel better, to bring me out of my silence and give me something to feel good about. I recalled her mentioning they were after her, getting to her through me – her girlfriend.

She rescued me quite quickly. Being tied up and locked away and left to cry like a child, wondering if I was going to die any minute at the hands of captors whom I had never met nor done anything to in my life, wasn't fun. People always wonder what they would do in those situations; maybe they would square up and put up a fight; maybe they would scream and shout and get everyone's attention; maybe they'd even retort with sarky remarks and go out with a blaze of glory.

I never imagined what that would be like, but I discovered I could do neither of those things. I just let them take me, let them threaten me and point their guns at me and tie me up and lock me away and–

I let myself cry and feel terrified and shake and lose my words and imagine the worst. Some would call that giving in, but this wasn't something you could prepare for. Surely my response was justified? I wasn't sure. I just knew that when Wanda burst onto the scene, taking out the men with ease and taking me out of there, taking me home, I was momentarily safe.

But then as she began to ramble off her explanations and apologies and regrets, I found myself turning in on myself, unable to hear her out. I didn't blame her one bit, but I also couldn't listen to one more second. So, I tuned her out.

I sat on the couch, staring at the way the thread was coming loose on one of my cushions. I thought about how quickly the whole 'incident' had happened. How one minute I was sat in a cell and now I was sat on my couch. How I was then shaking with fear and now I felt nothing.

"...you listening? Hey, are you okay?"

I only tuned back in when she sat on the cushion I was looking at. Her fingers rested on my cheek, guiding my head upwards so I was looking her in the eyes, glassy and red and swollen from crying. I probably looked the same, though I was all out of tears.

"I promise you nobody will be back here," she said with certainty, thumb stroking my cheek. "There's S.H.I.E.L.D. agents posted all along the street. And I'm happy to stay here if you need me to. You're safe now."

I knew I was. And despite my calm exterior, my heart was still racing in my chest, adrenaline still pumping through my body as if expecting to make a sudden break for it.

"What are you thinking?" she muttered, eyes flicking between mine curiously. "Talk to me. Please."

I shook my head, looking away. "I'm okay."

"It's okay not to be," she said quietly, squeezing my hand.

"I know."

So, we kept that bit up for a few more days, maybe a week. Me pretending I was okay, though still distant from Wanda as if she'd caught the plague, and her pretending she knew I was telling the truth.

But I knew she sensed the nightmares I had, waking me up in cold sweats. I knew she saw the way I tensed when a shadow cast along the wall from a moving object. Or the way I never faced the front door when unlocking it to get inside.

I guess she couldn't take it anymore at some point, possibly a week or two later, as when I was mixing my soup in a bowl after heating it up in the microwave, she sighed loudly.

"You okay?" I asked, glancing up at her. She was stood by the counter, seeming tired.

She'd been staying with me since the incident happened, obviously, and it was nice having her around so much, despite the circumstances. But I knew she was worried and had been keeping it in. I just didn't have the energy to acknowledge it.

"I'm fine," she said quickly, though her fingers still drummed on the countertop.

I let it go, shrugging, before paying attention to my soup. Her impatience was obnoxiously loud, filling the house with a discomfort she was dying to express. Eventually, she did.

"I'm not fine," she decided, and I stopped stirring my soup as I looked to her tugging on her sleeves distractedly. "I'm not fine because you're not fine."

"I've told you I am," I said monotonously, eyes boring into hers.

"I know you're not," she said, crossing her arms and hugging herself. "I've noticed you and..."

I quirked a brow. "And?"

She frowned, eyes softening with empathy. "Don't make me say it, Y/N."

I pressed my tongue to the back of my teeth as I looked down to my steaming soup.

"Talk to me," she pleaded, rounding the counter and leaning beside me, searching for my eyes. "I just want to help."

I swallowed hard. "I have nothing to say, Wanda."

"A really scary thing happened," she began hesitantly. "The fact that you don't have anything to say– that you've not said anything, isn't right."

"Well, I guess there's something wrong with me," I said dismissively, before grabbing the pepper grinder before me and using it.

"No, there's not," she reassured, not giving up. "You just need to talk.”

I set the grinder down, turning to face her abruptly. She straightened up with surprise, taking a small step back.

"What do you want me to say?" I asked, voice calm but full of unintentional malice. "Huh? What do you want me to tell you? That I'm terrified somebody is watching my house, waiting for a quiet moment to break in? That I have to follow you into every room you go in because I don't want to be left alone? That I can't fucking sleep because I'm scared that when I close my eyes, I'll be locked in a nightmare I can't escape? Is that what you want me to tell you? Does that make you feel better, Wanda? Because it doesn't make me feel any better. It just reminds me how fucking terrified I am."

I pocketed my shaking hands, blinked away the tears that threatened to fall, swallowed down the lump rising in my throat. She watched me, unsure what to say at first and I didn't blame her. It was an outburst waiting to happen.

"I'm–"

"Don't say you're sorry," I snapped, before flinching at my tone. "I know you're sorry. And I don't blame you for what happened. I just– I don't know what to do anymore."

Her eyes were studying me like green lasers burning holes into my skin and I hated that I couldn't meet them. I hated even more that I couldn't leave the kitchen out of anger or frustration because I was too scared to be left alone without her by my side.

So, I leaned against the counter, turning away from her, and let out a shaky breath, eyes burning and heart thumping in my ears. Her arms suddenly wrapped around me without question, and I let her take me into her chest, squeezing me so tight so I knew she was there.

Closing my eyes, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks, but no sound came out. I struggled to breathe, unable to take in air through my nose as I stuffed my head so hard into her shirt that I couldn't see a thing except darkness. I knew I'd eventually be okay, that I'd eventually get back to some sense of normalcy. But for now, having her here with me was okay. And I found it much better to just be with her then have to go over and talk it out.

She was warm and strong and smelt like home and God, I loved her. I was lucky to have her.

—

It took about a month and a half to get over the incident. And after that, we never brought it up again. It was just easier that way. We continued on like usual, falling back into our old routine of having a separate us and her separate superhero life.

At some point, I thought it would be nice for her to meet my parents. They were back in town for the week, wanting to check in and see how I was. It was nice having them around and I was excited for them to meet Wanda, who I'd mentioned in some of our Skype calls.

"We don't have to make it a thing," I said as I proposed the idea. We were cleaning around Anna's apartment as she napped in her bedroom. "It's not like an 'oh, meet the parents' thing. They just happen to be in town and we're having a dinner, so I thought you might want to come. If you don't, it's not a big deal. I haven't told them to expect you. Not unless you say yes. Which you don't have to."

She chuckled, eyes gleaming with amusement. "Dorogoy (darling), calm down. Breathe."

I neatened the cushions on the couch with a bit too much force. "Am I not breathing? I'm pretty sure I'm breathing."

Her hands slipped into mine as she spun me around to face her. An amused smile on her lips, she said, "You need to relax. If you're like this now, then who knows what you'll be like on the night of the dinner?"

It took me a second to realise what she'd said and when I did, my eyes widened. "Wait, the night of the– does that mean you're going?"

She laughed, tugging me closer to her. "Yes, I'm going. I'd love to meet your parents!"

My shoulders relaxed as her fingers played with mine mindlessly. A smile appeared on my lips as I said, "Thank you. I– it'll be fun. No pressure. Just a dinner."

"Just a dinner," she confirmed, before kissing my forehead gently. "Can't wait."

And so on the day before my parents left for Scotland, yet another trip on their never ending retirement travels, I waited for Wanda to pick me up so we could go to a restaurant to meet my parents, who were already there after spending the day shopping in town.

She arrived at the door with a beautiful smile and bright eyes, looking me up and down.

"Just on time," I teased, tilting my head to the side, before being serious. "You look amazing tonight, Wanda."

"As do you, moya lyubov' (my love)," she said sweetly, leaning forward to kiss my cheek, before stepping inside. "Also, these are for you."

She removed her hand from behind her back as I closed the door, revealing a gorgeous, colourful bouquet of flowers.

"I saw them and thought of you," she began to explain without even realising how cute she was; a smile crept on my lips as she continued, "but then I realised I've never gotten you flowers before which is very dumb of me because a pretty girl deserves pretty flowers, right?"

There was no doubt that my face was heating up from the attention, flustered yet honoured at her words.

"Wanda, I love them," I said, accepting the flowers and meeting her gaze. "And to be fair, nobody has ever gotten me flowers before."

"You're kidding," she said with disbelief, stepping forward and wrapping her arms loosely around my waist. Reading my serious expression, she added, "Not even for your birthday? Or a celebration?"

I shook my head. "Nope."

She gave me a knowing look. "Well, that's very unfortunate. But I'm glad I could be the first."

I held her gaze, amusement dancing in her smile. Mirroring her expression, I leaned forward and pressed a kiss to her nose, making her scrunch it up delightfully.

"Me, too," I said, and I meant it.

"Come on, we should get going," she said, squeezing my waist before letting go. "Don't want to be late, do we?"

"We do not," I agreed, before putting the flowers in a vase of water and leaving them by the door.

"You ready?" she asked, holding open the front door.

I intertwined our hands and met her smile with my own. "I'm ready."

Taking the girlfriend to meet the parents. What could go wrong?

#wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff imagine #wanda maximoff x reader #scarlet witch #elizabeth olsen imagine #elizabeth olsen #marvel imagine #mcu imagine #marvel #mcu

[just-here-for-the-moment]

FRIEND!!

May I humbly request Pero Tovar and "every inch of you is the most beautiful thing God ever created."

Heat level up to you.

Thankyou!

YES!! You absolutely may request it, and I hope that you're okay with me turning it into Part 2 of The Innkeeper's Daughter, because, damn... I'm loving that man!!

The Innkeeper's Daughter, Part 2

One MILLION "thank yous" to @fandom-blackhole who let me take inspiration from This Ask for the original Anon and This follow-up Ask from me, and let me run wild with the premise of Pero Tovar falling in love with a woman who works at an inn.

The Innkeeper’s Daughter, Part 2

Part 1

Word count: 3000+

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Outline: Pero Tovar x “You” (OC cis/het female reader, “blank canvas”/no physical description/no use of “Y/N”)

Warnings: Reader’s first time (but this is NOT meant to be a ‘virgin kink’ fic); mature and vulgar language; euphemisms; slow-burn; Pero Tovar being super sexy and caring; kissing; vaginal fingering; oral sex/F receiving; unprotected P/V sex; a little bit of morning-after insecurity on Reader’s part

You broke the kiss and leaned your head back against the wall, breathing heavily and thoughts running wild. Pero’s face was still so new to you, up close. You were learning to read him better. His stony scowl seemed to make up the bulk of his expressions, and other than the pure hatred and anger that had twisted his face after the other man had called you a ‘whore,’ he only seemed to have a softer version of the scowl. On anyone else you would have called it a frown, but on Pero it practically registered as a glow.

You looked up into his eyes as he brought one of his broad thumbs to your cheek to sweep away a tear.

“I have to finish serving the customers. I can’t leave Father alone on a Saturday night.” You kissed him again, and then another before you found the strength to pull yourself away again. “But I want to see you tonight. After I’m done.”

Pero nodded and tilted your chin up with his calloused fingers. “Tonight. I will come to your room.” He kissed you deeply, then scattered a trail of kisses up your nose to your forehead. He pressed his lips to the top of your head and then murmured. “Until then, mi alma.”

You broke the embrace reluctantly, steadying yourself with a sigh as you walked away, smoothing your apron down. You looked back once at Pero where he stood at the end of the hall. His face looked soft, and the hint of a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth as he gazed at you. You fought the urge to abandon your post and run back to him, and you lifted your fingers in a little wave as you re-entered the barroom.

Thankfully all of the guests had returned to their own affairs, resuming their raucous drinking and eating, the bar brawl entirely forgotten. Your father looked at you with an arched eyebrow and you smiled and shook your head, reassuring him that you were fine. You busied yourself with attending to customers, tucking coins into your pockets and ferrying empty plates and mugs to the kitchen.

Your chest ached every time you inhaled, desperate for the evening to end, to see if Pero would fulfill his promise of coming to your room. You weren’t nervous, far from it - you were eager and willing and excited. You weren’t a high-born lady, required to keep her maidenhead intact in order to form an alliance with some prince. You just hadn’t had the opportunity yet. None of the young men in the village had been interesting enough for you to want to steal away to a hayloft or secluded part of the forest with. But Pero… he was different. Mysterious and well-traveled, closed-off until he had bared his soul to you in the back passage. You were ready, well past an age where you could make up your own mind, and you had said yes, grasped the opportunity to lay with a man who excited you.

You weren’t sure exactly what would happen after tonight, whether Pero would stay in the village or leave, ask you to come along with him or insist that you stay put. You dared not think too far ahead, letting your immediate tasks occupy you as the conversations of the guests flowed, filling your head with a buzz that blessedly distracted you from the clenching and throbbing in your gut.

Finally, after what seemed like eons, the last customers dribbled out of the door, laughing and shouting their way down the lane. You washed the final stack of dishes, wiped the tables, and handed Father the last of the coins from your pocket. Your beaded brow had nothing to do with the exertion of your labor, and everything to do with thoughts of the handsome Spaniard who had promised you a visit.

You fairly flew to your room at the top of the stairs, discarding your soiled apron and dress. You poured fresh water into your basin, adding a few dried summer wildflowers from the sachet in your drawer, and used part of a cake of fine soap that Father had gifted you at Christmas. It was nothing like the exquisite ointments or fancy perfumes that ladies used, but when you were done your face and body were scrubbed clean, and you were certain that Pero would be enamored of your efforts. He had noticed your dress, after all.

You donned your cleanest nightdress and then hesitated. Should you get into bed, or sit in your side chair? You decided to tuck yourself under the covers and read for a bit by the lamp. You heard no noises from the rest of the house, though you listened with eager ears, only half-attentive to your book. Time dragged on interminably. Just as you were growing a bit drowsy, you heard a tap at your door. Your pulse raced and you swung your legs out of bed, dashing the few steps to the door.

“Who is it?” You whispered.

“Pero, mi alma.”

You swung the door open, beaming up at him. You reached one hand out to take his and pulled him into the room, almost not believing that he had come. But as you closed the door and he crowded you against it to kiss you again, you sunk into the reality of it. He was here, he was real, he was yours.

You felt a sense of urgency, the desire to pull him into your bed immediately and get right to lovemaking. But you fought against the urge to hurry, tried to memorize every one of Pero’s kisses as he held you tight between him and the door, one large arm wrapped around your waist while the other cupped your jaw tenderly. You found yourself almost whimpering as he kissed you, his tongue sweeping your mouth with passion. This was heaven. If this is how men made love, you could get used to this.

At length, Pero pulled away from you, gazing deep into your eyes. “Mi alma… you are a maiden, yes?”

You nodded, feeling suddenly shy. He had guessed as much in the hall downstairs, telling you that he would show you everything you needed to know, show you how to please a man. Now that it was a matter of actual discussion, your lack of experience felt like a burden. Would you be able to please him? Would he still be in love with you if you were clumsy or awkward?

Pero tilted your chin up and spoke low, serious in tone. “I will be gentle. It may hurt at first, but after that you will feel great pleasure. I will make sure of it.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, realizing that Pero’s question wasn’t meant to embarrass you, but rather to ensure that you would be comfortable and safe. Your shyness ebbed away, replaced by a glowing pride that you had chosen such a careful man to be your first.

“I trust you, Pero. I am ready.” You smiled and leaned up to kiss him once more. He stepped back and you took his hand to lead him to your bed. He sat on the edge and you paused for a moment.

“Should I put the lamp out?”

Pero shook his head, that gentle smile tugging at the corner of his mouth once more. “No, mi alma. Leave it lit. I want to see you.”

And there was that eagerness again, your heart pounding against your ribs as Pero took your hand and pulled you to stand between his knees where he sat. He placed both hands on your hips and gazed up at you with the same expression of hunger that you had seen on his face downstairs when he professed his love in the passageway. A quiet moment stretched long and sacred between you.

Pero dropped his hands to the hem of your nightdress and lifted it, looking up at you for permission. You nodded and he pulled it higher, skating the material against your thighs and hips, until it reached your waist. You took the fabric in your hands and lifted it up and off your head, dropping it on the floor at the foot of the bed. You felt as if you should be shy, but you couldn’t find it in yourself. The way that Pero gazed at you, the way his hands stroked from your thighs to your hips to your waist, the fact that you could see his erection straining against the thin material of his trousers - it made you feel powerful and special.

Pero wrapped one of his hands around to cup your butt, bringing you closer against him. You draped your hands over his strong shoulders. He cupped one breast and brought his mouth to the nipple, licking and then suckling against you, his tongue hot against your skin. You felt desire stirring, a throbbing between your legs that mirrored your heartbeat. You tangled your fingers in his hair and moaned softly.

“Oh, Pero. That feels wondrous.”

He let go of your ass and brought his hand to your front, softly stroking your thigh and nudging your legs apart. He cupped his hand there, holding it firmly against your sex, and you nearly wailed at the sensation, the delicious contrast of Pero working his mouth at the same time that his hand was touching you so intimately.

You closed your eyes and threw your head back, feeling his fingers explore you. He stroked your center softly with his largest finger, bringing wetness forth and then pushing it back between your folds. You felt your pleasure building, something below your navel twisting itself higher. Then Pero’s finger found your sensitive bud and he began circling it, building the pressure until you felt the dam burst. You brought the back of your hand up to your mouth and stifled a moan as you felt your cunt throb and quiver, stealing your breath and sending your head reeling.

As the sensation began to slow, you felt Pero stroke you again and then insert his finger up into your folds. It felt amazing, like it belonged there. He probed you gently and then pushed it further in. You felt the breath return to your lungs and then you looked down at him. He released his mouth from your breast and placed a kiss to your stomach.

“Is this alright, mi alma? Am I hurting you?”

You shook your head. “No, Pero. It felt good. It feels good.”

He smiled and then released you. “Lay down for me.”

You lay in the center of your small bed, looking up at him expectantly as he stripped his tunic off. You nearly gasped at his beauty, his golden skin marred by scars, his broad shoulders muscled after hours and hours of fighting. And when he peeled his pants down from his narrow hips, you were astonished at his cock, bobbing proudly up and erect. You wondered again at your lack of shyness, finding only that you felt womanly, proud of the way that his body was making his desire for you so apparent.

Pero kneeled on the bed next to you and surprised you by peppering kisses across both of your ankles and shins. His soft scruff tickled your skin, and you giggled at the sensation of it.

You reached a hand out to touch his shoulder. “Pero, what are you doing?”

He paused and looked at you, "Every inch of you is the most beautiful thing God ever created." Pero laid a kiss to one kneecap and then the other, continuing his trail up your thighs. “It would be a grave sin if I failed to worship every inch of you with my lips, mi alma.”

He kissed across your belly and ribs, your arms and breasts, and finally came to a stop at your lips. When you tangled your fingers in his hair, he brought his hand once again to stroke your sex, bringing a moan from you that he matched with his own deep growl.

He pulled away and positioned himself near your knees.

“Open your legs for me. I want to kiss you there, mi alma.”

You smiled at Pero and shifted your knees apart, watching his face grow darker with lust as your legs fell open. He whispered a few words in his native Spanish and licked his lips before leaning down. The first laps of his tongue were gentle, and you watched him close his eyes in satisfaction. His tongue grew more insistent, and you soon closed your own eyes, biting your lip to keep quiet as you tossed your head back in ecstasy.

Pero worked his tongue across your sensitive bundle of nerves, pausing only to insert two fingers into you before he continued to lick you with vigor. You felt your climax building again. With a few strokes of his fingers inside of you, Pero brought you to the precipice before your pleasure overtook you, throwing you over the edge as you clenched hard around his thick fingers.

When you opened your eyes, you found him gazing up at you, lazily stroking your hip before dipping his head to place a kiss there.

He shifted himself to kneel between your legs, stroking his proud length a few times. You looked up at him through your haze of desire, reaching your arms up to circle around his neck where he leaned over you. He dipped his head to kiss you once.

“Open your legs very wide for me, hmm?”

You nodded and propped your feet wide apart, knees bent up. You felt Pero position himself against your folds, then a slight pressure as he entered you, stopping just inside. He searched your face as you took two deep breaths and nodded up at him, encouraging him to continue. He slotted his mouth against yours, tongue working deep into you as he slid his cock inside of you the rest of the way. You inhaled sharply through your nose as Pero continued to kiss you. It did feel painful, but the feeling lessened as he moved inside of you and back out.

Pero pressed his forehead against yours. “Are you alright, mi alma? The first time is the worst. After this you will only feel pleasure.”

“I’m alright, Pero,” you whispered. “It did hurt but it’s getting better. Keep going, my love.”

He kissed you again and kept his pace even, thrusting into you again and again. As the pain ebbed away you started to feel another pressure building, and this time you knew what would happen when the dam broke.

You closed your eyes and let the feeling of Pero’s cock brushing against your sensitive bud carry you into your third climax. At the first throb and clench, Pero buried himself deep and stayed there, reaching one hand down to thumb at your clit. The thrumming in your core intensified, and a deep groan issued from Pero’s throat at the feeling of you squeezing around him. This third climax was the best one yet, slow and steady, and you felt it from your scalp to your toes. You wanted it to last forever, and you were sad when it burned itself out with a whisper.

Pero kissed you deeply, then nudged your chin up with his nose to place kisses along the column of your throat.

“Better, mi alma?”

“Yes,” you whispered. “So good.”

Pero hummed against your skin and then thrust into you a handful of times more before he unsheathed himself and sat back on his heels. His face was intense, almost a scowl as he stroked himself to completion, catching his spend in his open palm.

He unfolded his legs and crossed to your basin, wiping his hand on your damp linen washcloth before coming back to where you lay on the bed.

“Do you want me to stay, or to go, mi alma?”

You sat up and reached a hand out to him. “Please stay.”

The next day dawned bright and sunny, the light from the thin curtains streaming across your face. You smiled at the warmth of it, mirrored by the warmth of Pero’s bulk pressed against your back, his solid arm slung over your midsection. Were it not for waking to his presence, last night might have been a dream.

You rolled over to face him, finding his face relaxed. You pressed a kiss to his soft mouth.

“Pero,” you whispered. “Wake up.”

He cracked one eye open and grunted at you. You laughed softly and kissed him again.

“Was I good?” You whispered to him. “Last night, I mean? Were you happy?”

Pero opened both eyes in surprise and regarded you with confusion. “Yes, mi alma. But why are you asking me that?”

You felt a bit shy but answered him honestly. “I was worried. I thought that if I was not experienced at coupling with you, that you- well… you might not be pleased, and you would fall out of love with me.”

Pero sat up and pulled you to rest against his chest. You heard his heart beating and closed your eyes. He would not be doing this if he were displeased. He would not have stayed the night with you.

“I told you in the passageway, mi alma, that I had fallen in love with you. But that was not the truth.”

Your breath caught in your throat. If that was a lie, then why had he come to you in the night? Why had he done those things with you?

Pero continued, “The truth is that I fell even more in love with you last night, when you gave yourself to me so openly and let me bring you pleasure. If you will let me, I will spend the rest of my life between your legs, mi alma. I want nothing more than to pleasure you every day for the rest of my life.”

Tears sprang to your eyes. Was he proposing marriage?

“Pero, I-”

“Mi alma, if you will have me, I want to be your husband.”

You drew your head back and looked up into his deep brown eyes. His face was the most open and relaxed you had ever seen it, the scowl entirely wiped from his visage.

“Yes, Pero. Yes.”

He released a breath you didn’t realize he had been holding, and then Pero rolled you down into the sheets to kiss you with abandon.

---

Pero Tovar character masterlist

Main Masterlist

“Everything bagel” tag list: @quica-quica-quica @anaaaispunk @justanotherblonde23 @gracie7209 @nicolethered @honestly-shite @driedgreentomatoes @dihra-vesa @1800-fight-me @the-queen-of-fools @juletheghoul @kesskirata @honeymandos @silverwolf319 @mourningbirds1 @greeneyedblondie44 @spacedilf @maxwell–lord @anxiousandboujee @cevvie @sherala007 @writeforfandoms @libellule2001 @deadhumourist @mandoalorian @javierpinme @eri16 @mandocrasis @pilothusband @bastillealmighty @eri16 @jitterbugs927 @babiiface95 @toomanystoriessolittletime @yespolkadotkitty @fisforfulcrum @prettylilhalforc @mswarriorbabe80 @littlemisspascal @wildemaven @coreychick @castleamc @coreychick @astoryisaloveaffair

#pedro stories #pedrostories #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal characters #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal fic #pedro pascal fanfic #pedro pascal fanfiction #pero tovar x you #pero tovar x reader #pero tovar fic #pero tovar fanfic #pero tovar fanfiction #the great wall fic #the great wall fanfic #the great wall fanfiction

[avenging-fandoms]

Pumpkin Eater

*requested by anonymous *hey bebs 💕 could you write something where chris cheated on the reader and he sees her with sebastian and gets jealous 🥺 *in which y/n and chris were engaged to be married in 7 months, but she caught him cheating. leaving her homeless, her friend sebastian let her stay with him. *warning: angst, cheating, mentions of sex, drinking, fluff *PLEASE send me requests!!!!! i can do whoever :)

MASTERLIST

this is going to be a series!!

“oh my fucking god” you breathed and dropped your bags, the door hitting the wall catching the attention of chris and the girl on top of him. “you’ve got to be fucking kidding me” they both scrambled and she got her clothes on fast, running out the door.

chris wrapped himself in the blanket, shaking his head and putting his hand up. "yn, i promise, this wasn't supposed to happen"

"oh bullshit, chris! did you think i wouldn't find out? my god, chris, we're fucking engaged!" you ran your fingers through your hair, chris still tightening the blanket around his waist. "4 years. 4 years down the drain, for what? for some fun?" your lip quivered and you shook your head.

"yn, please, i can explain" you scoff, running your tongue over your lips as you shift your weight to one leg with your arms across your chest as you looked at him.

"you can explain what? you cheated! there's no fucking excuse!" you exclaim, grabbing a bag from the closet and shoving random articles of clothes in it, as well as the ones you just bought.

"where are you going? no, please don't leave" chris begged and grabbed your wrist, and you chuckle as you ripped it out of his grip.

"if you don't want me to leave, you shouldn't have cheated and had some random girl riding your dick. i'm calling off the wedding" you threw the ring at his chest and slammed the bedroom door behind you. you shoved the bag into the back of your car, starting your car and gripping the steering wheel. you squeezed your eyes shut and leaned your forehead onto the wheel, your shoulders shaking as you sob.

your phone started to ring and you took a deep breath, sniffling and taking a few breaths before answering it. your elbow leaned against the door, eyes closed with your fingers against your forehead. "hey yn!" sebastian beamed over the phone and you smile softly, feeling a little better to hear how happy he sounded.

"you called at literally the best time. is it alright if i come over?"

"sure! door's unlocked, i've got drinks in the fridge, i'll see you soon then!" you said your goodbyes and hung up the phone, putting it away and blasting music as you drove off to sebastian's.

-

30 minutes later you pulled into sebastian's driveway and turned down the music before shutting off your car. you grabbed your bag and took a breath before sulking over to his door. you knocked softly and tapped your toes together as you waited for sebastian to open the door. you heard his footsteps and the door swung open, your puffy eyes meeting his sweet, bright smile.

"hey doll! oh no, why are you sad?" your lip quivered after the question and you let out a sob, sebastian catching you as you fell into him, he scrunches his eyebrows confused and wraps his arms around you.

"i-i caught him in bed-" sebastian shushed you softly and held your head, bringing you and your bag inside his house.

"you don't have to tell me anything until you're ready, okay? i'll be here to listen. for now, i'll just hold you until you have no more tears" he smiled and kissed your head, the both of you sitting on the couch. he put your legs over his lap, comforting you. you hiccuped once you stopped crying, playing with the hem of sebastian's shirt.

"he was in bed.. with that bitch i asked about a couple months ago" you sighed and sebastian scoffed, shaking his head.

"what did he say before? when you asked about her before" sebastian rubbed your arm and you laughed.

"an old hometown friend who moved to california. and i believed it, even though i met all his friends from home"

"what an asshole, you don't deserve that" sebastian whispered and kissed your forehead, making you smile.

"and.. with me being over here now, if it's not any incon-"

"yes, you are more than welcome to stay. my guest bedroom is finally finished" you smile and hug him tightly, sebastian rubbing your back. "love you yn"

"love you more, seb, thank you" you whisper and snuggle your cheek into his shoulder.

the next day sebastian helped you pack your things from the house you and chris shared. you guys put some boxes in storage and some boxes to sebastian's house. chris came back to the house as you closed the trunk of your car.

"yn? hey, please listen to me" chris begged and and you clicked your seatbelt in the passenger seat.

"she's not talking to you right now. you hurt her, very bad, chris" sebastian glared, backing up and getting into the driver's seat. chris yelled things about you getting with sebastian as payback but it was muffled. sebastian reached over and grabbed your thigh and you shook your head as you placed your hand on top of his.

"i told myself i wouldn't cry about it anymore.. but i can't help it" you sniffled and at a red light, sebastian wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"you're allowed to be sad, yn. it's your choice how long you want to be sad, no one else's, okay?" he whispered and you nodded, kissing his palm and you widened your eyes.

"sebastian, i didn't mean to do that" you rambled on and he chuckled, holding your wrists and kissing each knuckle and your palms. "oh" you sighed, dropping your shoulders and sebastian looked up at you through his eyelashes.

"see? don't be sorry, it's comforting" he smiled and you nodded slowly, licking your lips. "you want to go somewhere to eat?" you nodded and he sat the right way again. luckily there was no one behind you two because you sat through a green light. the light turned green again and he took off, heading to the place you wanted to eat before heading to his house.

sebastian pulled into his driveway and opened your door for you. you think him as he takes your hand into the house. "are there any.. house rules?"

"uhm.. food is free reign, bathroom upstairs, the guest room is right across from- what's wrong?" you rubbed your arm and shrugged, looking around the house then meeting sebastian's eyes.

"i didn't mean to make your life any more crazy" you apologize to him and stare at your toes.

"hey, look at me" sebastian said but you refused. he held your chin softly and tilted your face up to look at him. "you could never be a burden to me, i promise. i've always wanted a roommate who wasn't crazy"

"well.. i'm pretty crazy now" you smiled and he laughed, shaking his head.

"no, definitely not. chris is crazy for cheating on an amazing, smart, sexy girl like you" he grinned and your cheeks felt hot. "there's that shy smile"

"you think i'm sexy?" i whisper, stepping a little closer to sebastian.

"who wouldn't?" he whispered back, his mouth inches from yours. "goodnight yn"

"goodnight seb" he kissed your forehead and headed to his room. you sighed contently with a smile on your face, heading to the guest room. it was still scattered with some boxes, the closet half filled with clothes and the dresser topped with a mirror and a tv.

you got ready for bed and cuddled tight under the sheets, deleting the new texts you got from chris about the cheating, about sebastian, about everything. you went on social media, which is a bad idea after a break up. 'chris evans' was trending, and it was filled with thousand of tweets about the break up. your chest felt heavy and it felt like your throat was closing. "seb..seb.." you ripped the blankets off of you and you knocked on his door frantically.

"come in" you swung the door open and he dropped his clothes in his hamper. "what's wrong, doll?"

"they're a-all talking about it" you cried in choppy breaths, sebastian's eyebrows furrowing. you handed him your phone and he scrolled through the tweets, shaking his head and putting your phone next to his on the nightstand. "h..how did they find out?! i didn't post anything, remove any pictures, or say anything about you. how is it out?!"

"apparently he let it slip in an interview. plus i guess he confided in the wrong person and they told the press" sebastian rubbed your back and you let out a soft cry, falling into him. "you're going on a social media detox. i'm going to take your phone for a couple days and we're going to enjoy the world, okay?" you nod and sniffle, nodding and wiping your cheeks with his thumbs.

"i'm sorry for dumping all of this on you" you said softly and you looked up at him.

"never apologize for your feelings" he whisper and i nodded, leaning forward and kissing his chest.

"thank you seb" your tone was soft as you leaned back against his bed. sebastian was still processing the kiss to his chest you left, a soft smirk playing on his lips. it didn't take long for you to fall asleep, and sebastian didn't want to move you. he pulled the blankets over the two of you, kissing your forehead before shutting off the side lamp and falling asleep with an arm draped over you.

-

you woke up the next day with your arms wrapped around sebastian's arm. your eyes felt heavy and puffy, but you didn't want to move out of your very comfortable spot. you watched sebastian chest rise up and down slowly with every breath he took, his arm tucked under his head with his face turned away from yours.

you never really looked at sebastian, but you were glad you were getting the chance to right now. he shifted and you panicked, closing your eyes again to pretend you were sleeping. you heard him sigh and felt his bicep flex, and it was so hard to bite back your smile and grip it in your hands.

sebastian slowly pulled his arm away from your grip and pushed your hair out of your face before he got out of bed. sebastian headed into his bathroom and locked the door, your eyes shooting open. your arms pushed up the soft sheets as you stretched your limbs. you reached over for your phone, seeing a lot of missed calls, texts and notifications from almost every social media app you had.

sebastian's phone vibrated and you jumped when you heard the water turn on in the shower, sebastian badly singing as he showered. you sighed and peeked at his screen, seeing a lot of texts from chris.

"this is crazy" you sighed, placing a pillow over your face and wanting to scream. you had almost fallen asleep again before you heard the water shut off. you took the pillow off of your face and pretended to just be waking up as he came out of the bathroom.

"well, good morning roomie" sebastian smiled and you sat up, gasping softly with wide eyes as you noticed sebastian dripping in water with his towel loosely tied around his waist.

“good morning. i didn’t mean to take up your bed last night. all that crying just really took it out of me"

“no problem, i understand. my bed is big enough for the both of us. no bother” he smiled and took another towel to dry his hair. you brushed your hair out of your face and sighed.

"uhm, i'm gonna go shower. probably unpack too. you can come help if you want" you started to walk towards his door but you heard him whistle. you tighten your face and turn around slowly, sebastian's hand on his hip with the other out palm facing up.

"i seem to remember there were 2 phones on my nightstand, and now there's only one. give it here" you grunt and slightly stomp as you slapped the phone in his hand. "this is for your own sake, it's to better you and your mind!" sebastian smiled and you rolled your eyes, trying to pretend that you were mad at sebastian but you couldn't help the corners of your mouth curling up.

"yeah, yeah. whatever" you push his shoulder and he laughs. "i'll be in my room, then i'm gonna shower"

"okay. and hey," you turned around in his door frame, your hand on the wood as you looked over your shoulder to sebastian. "you and me"

you smile, nodding softly. "you and me, seb"

#chris evans #sebastian stan #chris evans x reader #chris evans x you #chris evans x y/n #chris evans imagine #chris evans imagines #chris evans fic #andy barber fanfiction #chris evans blurb #chris evans blurbs #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x you #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan imagine #sebastian stan imagines #sebastian stan fic #sebastian stan fanfiction #sebastian stan blurb #sebastial stan blurbs #captain america #steve rogers #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #the winter soldier

[windows98whore]

Welcome home

An: You’re tired and stressed from a shite day at work. Your husband is more than happy to release that tension for you. Just a short Drabble to cope with a bad day.

Warnings: Vaginal sex, comfort after a bad day. Cumming inside?

Word Count:

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

All characters are aged up. Divider credits are at the bottom of the post.

Just imagine coming home, dog ass tired. It’s cold out, and you bundled up for the bus ride to and from work, then the grocery store. You drop the bag of groceries you’d forced yourself to get for dinner and kick off your shoes at the door before you start peeling off a fleece and a big coat to hang on the hooks by the door. Your hat and scarf come next, and you shake out your curls, rubbing a hand down your neck. Despite the cold, the way your hair had been pressed against your skin had left you damp with sweat. You didn’t bother calling out that you were home, Katsuki was used to you coming home around this hour, and if he wasn’t on a patrol or mission, he was almost always in one spot.

From the doorway you could see Katsuki planted in that familiar recliner in front of the tv, watching the news of course, a cup in his hands. He looks up when you saunter in and plop yourself on top of his spread thighs with a tired sigh. He sets his cup on the end table and scans your back, noting the visible tension in your muscles.

He doesn’t speak. Instead, he runs warmed fingers up and down your arms, helping you shed your blazer, leaving you in a simple button up. He takes his time, unbuttoning each button and pressing warm, soothing kisses down your neck and back, his lips soft against your shoulders.

You catch a glimpse of his silver wedding band glinting in the lamp light and thread the fingers of one of your hands into his. Palm to palm, the only sounds between you for a moment, is the droning on of newscaster on the tv. You enjoy the roughness on his skin, the calloused fingers once used for fighting, ever so gentle and sweet with you, when you need it.

He knew work was stressful. Knew you wanted to quit too, and go into another field or just work anywhere else. He didn’t prod, no use in having you repeat your usual rants about paperwork and bitching supervisors and never getting anything the way they liked it. He rubs a thumb on your palm and presses his lips against your back.

“Let me make you feel good.” He mumbles against your skin. He releases your smaller hand and sets his hands gently on your hips to lift you off of his lap. The two of you walk slowly, to the bedroom, and not long after you flop down onto your plush bed with a huff, Katsuki’s body follows right behind, moving to push your pencil skirt and panties down your hips in one easy sweep, until the expensive fabric gathers around your ankles. You kick them off, not caring where they end up right now.

Katsuki resumes his lazy kisses, alternating between kitten licks and gentle suckles. He expertly undoes the clasp of your bra and takes both breasts into his hands to massage at the supple skin with a soft groan.

“Beautiful.” He murmurs against your neck. He relishes the way your back arches and the sighs that tumble from your supple lips as he rolls your pert nipples between his fingers. He pinches ever so slightly, smirking when you gasp. Katsuki releases your right breast and flips you over to trail a hand down your stomach, rough fingers ghosting over your belly to your thighs.

He pulls you in by your hip, and ruts into your shapely ass, groaning at the way your ass feels against his hardening cock. He wants to give it to you, fuck you until you’re relaxed and cuddly and sleepy, but he takes his time. This is about your pleasure and he wants you to know that. His fingers dip towards you heat, and he parts your lips to rub a warm finger over your clit.

The pressure sends jolts of pleasure up your spine. You mewl his name quietly, which only spurs him on. “Good girl...” he’s whispering, voice deep from arousal. “Like that? Like how I touch you?” His words just add to your growing pleasure as he thumbs your clit, circling it expertly in just the right way. He runs his fingers down to your entrance, collecting slick between his pointer and middle finger.

As much as he’s aching to be inside you, he’s gentle, slow even, as he slides his dampened fingers inside of you. You part your legs instinctively, mouth open as you groan. He massages your velveteen walls, enjoying the way you roll your hips to try and bury the two fingers further inside of you. He pulls his hand back, twirling your clit with his thumb, before he slides back in enjoying the wet squelch of your juices against his fingers.

“That wet already?” He sucks his teeth, feigning surprise. He knew what he did to you, and just how to get you worked up. “I’ll make you cum, and then I’ll fuck you so good you won’t even remember your day. Deal?” His voice is like liquid pleasure and it shoots straight to your brain. Your clit twitches against his thumb and all you can make out is a quick nod. “Good.” He speeds up his wrist flicks, and changes his angle so that he each time his fingers disappear inside you, the palm of his hand kisses your clit. You’re a mess, moaning and turning into jelly right in front of you. “Why don’t you cum for me sugar. Cream all over my fingers.” He husks, curling said fingers against your g spot and making you see stars. You tumble over the edge into ecstasy, panting and shaking while your husband praises you softly, tells you how he loves how you cum with that pretty pussy of yours, how sexy your o face is, how he can’t wait to bury himself inside and fuck you dumb.

Katsuki always licks his fingers after he’s helped you ride out your orgasm. He sucks each digit into his mouth, staring you directly in the face with that cocky look in his lust darker irises. When he turns your head in his cum and saliva slick fingers, and presses his lips to yours in a bruising kiss, you shudder, able to taste your own cum in his mouth.

The blond normally likes to tease. Likes to have you at your breaking point before he gives in and fucks you so deeply tears spring into your eyes.

But tonight, he doesn’t. He turns you so he can be the big spoon, pushes his orange boxers down just enough to get his erecting free and slides into you, groaning at how your walls are already fluttering around him as he slowly buries himself to the hilt.

“Oh fuck...” you groan, which puts a cocky smirk on his face. Katsuki takes his time. He’s not fucking tonight, he’s making love to you. Making you feel loose and well loved and appreciated. He presses his lips to the shell or your ear to whisper just how tight you feel, and how good it all is, and how no one else gets him this hard and horny but you and your amazing body and mind god he loves how sharp you are. It had been your quick wit that had drawn him in. He rolls his hips, dragging his cock against your walls in a way that makes you twist free hands in the plush sheets beneath you.

Katsuki is a lot of things, but patient isn’t one of them. You’re more than aware of that, though, and when you feel him start to tremble from holding back, you quietly beg him to take you rough and quick, the way he’s dying to. The sounds of damp skin slapping fill the room. You’re moaning and groaning and keening for him, and that just sets him off more. He’s curses up a storm, and pulling you by the hips into him so hard you’re sure you’ll have bruises to match the hickies he’s sucking into the copper skin of your neck.

“Fuck, babe I’m close. Where do you...Shit...where do you want it?” He asks breathlessly, voice raising so you can hear him over your own sounds of pleasure.

“Inside Suki. Cum inside me. Fucking cum inside, please.” You plead between deep suckles of air. Katsuki nods against your neck, mumbling that he’d do anything you ask, anything for you. He slips his hands between your legs and thumbs your clit, quickly sending you into your second orgasm of the night. The way you tighten around him has Katsuki following not long after, hips jerking wildly, only to stop and stutter, as he pumps you full of his cum. He lets out a breathy shudder, sliding his slowly softening dick in and out of you with a very satisfied groan.

Your head spins. There are goosebumps and bruises and hickies dotting your skin now. Katsuki presses his lips to each dark mark in a silent apology as he pulls out with a hiss.

He was right. You don’t remember much of your day anymore. All you can focus on is the familiar ache between your thighs and the way cum slowly drools from inside you, dribbling down your legs.

Katsuki takes care of you, silently. He gets a damp rag from the adjourning bathroom, and delicately wipes you down. Your eyes meet, and he looks like he’s considering something. You tilt your head in a silent question.

“I don’t like telling you what to do.” He hums, looking up at you through foggy eyes. “You should quit. Take some time to just lounge around. I’m sure we can find you a less shit job.” You smile fondly down at him.

“Actually I’m determined to make them regret treating me like shit.” Your determined look makes Katsuki smirk. He pats your thigh, a loving glint in his eyes. “Be the best employee they’ve ever had, so when I quit, they beg me to stay. Make them wish they’d never been rude to me.”

“That’s my fuckin girl.”

Requests are open! Shoot me an ask~

Divders are from @/firefly-graphics

#my hero academia #mha #bnha #bnha bakugo katsuki #bnha fanfiction #bnha bakugo x reader #bakugou smut #bakugo x black reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugo fic #bnha katsuki x reader #mha katsuki #katsuki x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugo drabble #98writes #my hero academia smut #this really hit the spot #literally wrote this while falling asleep #dynamight #katsuki bakugo smut #katsuki bakugo x reader

[pixcldust]

𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐞 ;

pairing | rich!kuroo tetsuro x f! reader

wordcount | 1.1k

warnings | slightly suggestive

tags | rich boy x poor reader, love confession, one night stand/fwb to something ✨more✨, no beta i never have beta lmao

a/n | i dont really know if anyone is still here but this was part of a series i planned out ages ago about a rich kids au. never fully finished the series (idk i would love to pick it up again) but it’s been collecting dust in my drafts for ages. also i miss this account 🥺 love u, pls hydrate

matutine (adj): of or relating to early morning; occuring in the early morning

When your eyes blink open, the hotel room is dark and you are alone in the big big bed. For a brief, sleepy second, you think that he has already left. You feel a tired pang of happiness when you see that he hasn’t.

There’s a warm glow from the lamp in the corner that illuminates a figure standing by the window. You can smell the smoke from his cigar; a little sweet but mostly pungent, in your opinion. He doesn’t even like to smoke -- he told you that the first time you met -- but he’s always puffing away on his Cuban cigars. The logic behind that evades you, but you can always guess why. He smokes because he’s bored. He buys and hoards more tobacco than he should because he’s bored. He stays with you because he’s bored.

The last sentence wasn’t just a guess.

You crumple the sheets a little, as you move to sit up, and he turns to look at you. Cat eyes blink, backlit by the view only the top floor of a luxury penthouse can provide - neon car lights and tiny windows all blurred into a mess of light. And above it all, a starless night sky. The view is beautiful and unreal from here.

“What time is it?” your voice is a croak, swept over by tiredness. 

“It’s 3:30 am,” he replies, putting the cigar into the ashtray. “Sorry. I know you hate this kinda stuff.”

Being the only son of the president of one of the biggest conglomerates in Japan, Kuroo Tetsuro was first in line to claim the company after his father stepped down. And yet here he was putting  out a $70 cigar early because a part-time waitress, whose closet was half-filled with thrift store clothes, didn’t like the smell. You’d be flattered if you didn’t know that $70 was almost nothing to him. He would pay over $100 for a smoke without batting an eyelid. You know that far too well.

“It’s only three thirty? I shouldn’t have woke up,” you sigh, brushing a hand over your face. “I don’t know how I’m going to go back to sleep again.”

A sly grin appears on Tetsuro’s face - it’s familiar and annoyingly sexy. How dare he look like that? You can’t help feeling a bit bitter.

“Want me to tire you out a little?”

You roll your eyes even as you smile, as he climbs back into the bed to rest both arms on the headboard. Caging you in, under his shirtless body. He smells fresh, like he’d just step out of the shower, despite the underlying scent of his cigar smoke. “Once a night is quite enough, thanks. I’ve got a morning shift tomorrow, and I’d like to retain my ability to walk.”

When you first met Tetsuro, at a shitty hole-in-the-wall bar that you never returned to after, he’d said all the right things in the right way. You didn’t even know he was one of the richest 20-something year olds in the country when he laughed at your sarcastic jokes, when the conversation somehow turned to kissing. You thought he was just another bar fling. Watching his lips quirk up into a smile, there’s a sense of relief that washes over you; you’re glad that he’s become more than that, as loathe as you are to admit your feelings to yourself.

His laughter shakes the bed beneath you. After months of this - this strange relationship where the both of you are something more than friends, but not quite lovers - you’ve learned to tell the difference between his mirthless chuckles and his genuine, albeit ridiculous, laughter. It’s nice that he’s been carrying out the latter more frequently around you.

“That should be flattering, but it doesn’t sound as kind coming from you,” he drops his arms and roll to the side, one leg draped over yours. Only the blankets keep your skin from touching his. “Want me to send you there? I’m free all day tomorrow.”

It’s sweet of him to offer, but the mental image of his red Rolls-Royce pulling up to the tiny neighbourhood diner, and a waitress in patched up jeans stepping out was too amusing. You tell him as much, while he trails a hand up your bare arm to tap your shoulder mindlessly. “I’m pretty sure it’d end up on the news: president’s son drops off minimum wage waitress at tiny diner. Your dad would probably murder you.”

He pinches your shoulder, playfully, moving his hand to your chest. “He can try, but am I really at fault for doing a favour for my favourite person?”

“Your favourite person, huh?”

“Yeah, of course,” he laughed, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck. His breath is warm. “Hey Y/N?”

Your hands move to comb through his unruly hair. “What?”

“Don’t freak out, but I think I love you.”

Oh. Your fingers froze. There it was.

After the first night, when you woke up to find empty sheets and a neat white business card on the bedside table, you googled him. He scribbled a little message under his name and his position as Supervisor for Kuroo Group -- one of the richest conglomerates in Japan that so happened to share his last name. You’d read the message so many times, you could recite it by heart now -- ‘Thanks for last night. Call me whenever you feel like. I had fun.’. 

The Internet told you he was a notorious playboy with a personality that endless wealth always seemed to incur: confident, detailed and bored. So so bored with his flow of gold and his shiny toys and all his different suits and ties. There are accounts, from other alleged one-night stands and business partners. They all say the same thing: that he could charm the pants of anyone and that his words dripped like honey - thick and sweet, boasting the kindness of a saint and the slyness of a sinner. 

As his dark eyes bore into yours, waiting for a response to… whatever the hell that just was, you think that maybe the Internet has lied. His words aren’t honey - they spill like expensive champagne, Dom Perignon Rose, bubbly and valuable. Something you find yourself drowning in often, although you don’t know if you could ever admit that to anyone but yourself.

“Y/N? You okay? Look, I’m really sorry if that weirded you out but I just thought that it would be unfair to act like I don’t feel anything for you.”

You don’t want to admit it but fuck, he just might be worth drowning for. 

#kuroo tetsuro x reader #haikyuu x reader #kuroo tetsuro drabble #kuroo tetsuro x yn #haikyuu #kuroo tetsuro #pixcldustwrites #haikyuu oneshot #kuroo fluff #suggestive ????

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

Hi there! Can I request Dick Grayson x fem reader where they’re training and one thing leads to another and the end up having some sexy time

warnings: smut // fem!reader.

word count: 1.9k

Omg I’m so sorry this is so late!! Hopefully it’s hot enough to make it up to you!!

requests are open!

Announcement coming tomorrow (titans related)!

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

Ever since the Titans found out that their old enemy, Dr Light, is back in town, everyone had been pretty on edge. Dick had us all training harder than before; longer hours, tougher fighting and weapon training. One thing seemed to impress him — and even calm him a little — is the persevering determination that I possess. Each time he’d walk past the training room, he’d peak his head in and see me beating up a boxing bag or throwing knifes at the wall or even working with the cross bow. I was new after all and felt that I needed to get up to speed with everyone’s training skills. 

Dick had been tense and agitated all night. Him and the Titans — excluding Jason, Rach, Gar and me, of course — were going down to the stadium to fight Dr Light. The rest of us sat around the Titan Tower. Jason was pacing around the living room, where we all sat, complaining about Dick not taking any of us seriously. Rachel, who seemed to have zoned out ages ago, was scrolling through her phone and not even bothering to look up at Jason. Which left Gar and I to converse with Jason. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“Where’s Dr. Light?” Jason snickers at Dick. 

“Jason,” Rachel warns. 

“A little stealth job on a guy who shoots what, head lamps? I mean, half the city’s on fire and still no sign of Dr. Light,” Jason scoffs as he approaches Dick.

“Not the time Jason,” Dick replies sternly, yet exhaustedly. 

“Look, I don’t take orders from you anymore, man.” Jason steps closer to Dick, both of their jaws are clenched and we all knew this wouldn’t end well. “I do what I want, when I want.” 

I roll my eyes at Jasons remark. This kid thinks he’s older and more experienced than he is. I love him, but I think he doesn’t even have the slightest clue what we’re up against. No one does. 

Jason puts a hand on Dick’s chest, stopping Dick from walking past him.

“Get out of my way,” Dick said lowly, causing Jason to sigh. 

“I think you got it all wrong. You’re in my way. Yeah, and maybe you need to see a retirement package, huh?” Jason turns away and looks at us. His knuckles crack as he balls them into a tight and angry fist. Turning back to Dick , Dick says a serious “Don’t” almost as if he was warning him. Jason ignores him and swings his fist toward Dick, but Dick takes it and thrashes him down on the ground. Jason whimpers as he hits the ground. 

“Shit. Here,” Dick reaches his hand out apologetically towards Jason, who just slaps it away angrily. Jason stands up and snarls at Dick before storming off, pushing past Dick as he does so. 

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

“I hope you’re wearing gloves with that, don’t want you to hurt your hands before you’ve even started fighting the guy,” I joke, slowly walking towards him in the training room. Dick turns towards me. His breathing is still fast and heavy. His forehead is beaded with sweat, making the strands of hair stick to it in the hottest way. He looks me up and down discreetly, his lips turning upward into a smirk before frowning again. Dick couldn’t let me know that he was infatuated with me. He knew if I got hurt that he’d only have himself to blame. Sometimes he thinks that if he can be as detached as possible, it wouldn’t hurt. Problem is, he already is. 

“If I wanted an audience, I would’ve asked,” he snarls; his voice raspy through his panting. 

“Not here to watch. I just came to see if you were alright,” my warmth seems to cause him to drop his guard a bit. His shoulders relax and both his fists and jaw begins to unclench. 

“You know, I’ve been quite impressed with you recently. I know coming here must be hard, but you really put the work in. I’d love for you to show me sometime,” Dick smirks. “But for now, I’ve gotta blow off some steam.”

“How about we fight each other. I could do with another practice round for today,” I suggest, hoping that he’ll oblige. Dick shrugs and nods for me to come closer. 

“Grab the sword,” he instructs, as he takes a wooden sword-like weapon. “Show me what you’ve got then.”

Bringing the sword up, I position myself in a fighting stance. I squint my eyes at him, waiting to see if he’ll make the first move. After a second later, I charge at him, kicking his sword before swinging my sword down to his legs. He catches it with his weapon, pushing back and blocking every move. I round-house kick his side, causing him to be caught off guard. With my sword still clenched tightly in my hand, I break his wooden weapon in two. 

“Smart move,” Dick smirks, cocking an eyebrow in astonishment. Swinging his, now two, weapons at me, I block every move. Finally, I corner him, holding my firm stance with my sword pressing under his chin.  

“So, really,” I pant. “Are you okay?”

“It was a hectic night,” he sighs. “I didn’t handle it so well.” 

“I’ve been there, it happens to the best of us,” I reply back, before being caught off guard by his arm knocking my sword out of my hand. In my quite pathetic attempt to punch him, he grabs my arm and flips me to the floor. Letting out a small grunt, Dick mumbles out a ‘sorry’. His arm extends out to help me up, but I pull him down, causing him to fall next to me. We both erupt in a fit of laughter before I kick his wooden sword out of the way. 

“Oh, we’re still going are we?” He snickers, trapping my body under his. Dick’s hands pin mine on each side of my head. He’s so close to me that I can feel his hot breath on my face and neck. 

“What’re you gonna do now, huh?” His voice low with anticipation. I didn’t answer. We stayed like that for a few seconds before his lips smash onto mine, catching me off guard for about the millionth time this night. My heart is beating so fast I’m sure he can feel it against him too. Flipping him over, I straddle his waist and take my shirt off, flinging it across the room. Leaning down again, I plant needy kisses on his neck, feeling his hands glide up my back. Tingles spread across my body as I felt Dick unclasp my bra. Items of our clothing were flung around the room in an attempt to rid them as fast as we could. We both need each other and we both know it. 

Dick kisses up my neck while I grind on his now uncovered cock, and a whine slips through his lips. 

“ride my face,” he instructs in a low growl. Crawling up his body, I begin to feel nervous as I straddle his face. But all those nerve seem to disappear the second he touches me. There is something about Dick’s touch that just makes me feel safe. His hands reach up and grip my hips, holding me down against his mouth. I grind my clit against his tongue, letting out quiet whines while my eyes roll back in pleasure. Dick’s tongue rapidly flicks at my clit and laps up each of my folds, completely immersing himself in the taste of me. 

“Fuck, oh my god,” I moan softly, trying hard not to be too loud. I feel his tongue tease around my entrance before pushing in only slightly. Dick’s hand slaps my ass, causing me to let out a little yelp. I giggle as I lean back and press my hands against his stomach to hold myself up better. His eyes connect to mine and a tingle can be felt in my stomach. I’ve never seen such passion in his eyes before. His eyes are usually hard and cold; the anger, hurt and burdens are carried in his eyes. But right here in this very moment, they’re different. Brighter, yet dark with want. 

“Dick, I’m gonna cum,” the faintest whimper slips through my lips as I feel his tongue give my clit more attention and rapidly flick against it again. My body shakes above him and I swear I can feel him smirking against me. A small squeal escapes my lips as I cum on his tongue, feeling nothing but absolute bliss. Dick laps up every last drop, wanting nothing more than to savour every bit of taste he could get. If that alone doesn’t say something about his need and want for me, than I could never know what does. 

Shuffling down to sit on his stomach, I lean down and kiss him, not caring if his mouth is covered in my wetness. 

“do you want me to ride you too?” I tease, reaching behind me to jerk him off slowly. 

“yes,” he breathes out, closing his eyes for a moment to enjoy the feeling of my hand on him, before opening them back up again. I shuffle further down his body and line myself up. Dick’s hands snake down from my waist to my hips, giving them a gentle squeeze either as reassurance that everything here in this moment is okay, or as a reminder to himself that this might by the last time he’ll ever get to hold me like this. My hands rest themselves on his shoulders to balance myself. A groan passes through the both of us as I sink down onto him. 

I waste no time in slamming my hips into his. A smile creeps on my face as I watch his face contort with pleasure; the feeling of my pussy around his cock already has him at a loss for words. Leaning down, I press my lips against his. Almost immediately, dick wraps his arms around my waist, pulling me down further into him. It was like he was completely starved of all touch, and I were the only one to provide him with it. A giggle slips past me again as I sit back up against him. I rest my hands on his thighs, thrusting myself harder onto him. Dick sinks his teeth harshly on his bottom lip to suppress a moan, but fails. He lets out the most hottest sound I’ve ever heard; a mix between a moan and a grunt. Dick’s hands press into my hips again and grips it so tightly, I’m sure they’re gonna leave a bruise. I moan as he holds me down against him, feeling him thrust up into me roughly. 

“fuck,” I whimper, closing my eyes as he fucks me faster. Feeling myself lose balance, I lean forward and press my hands against his stomach, feeling his abs tense from the pleasure.

“are you gonna cum, babygirl?” Dick asks, his hand snaking around to my clit. I nod and bounce myself faster on his cock. Suddenly, everything just feels so intense I begin whining. Dick pulls me down and holds me against him while he thrusts up into me harder. 

“it’s okay, I got you. Let it go, baby,” he soothes, letting out a moan as he feels my walls pulse around his cock as I cum. Again, my body is almost convulsing above him from how strong and powerful the orgasm is; whines and moans are now uncontrollable, but neither of us cared. Dick came from just watching me cum, and his arms never left my body; just having me pressed against his chest, especially naked, is all he could ask for.

#dick grayson #dick grayson imagine #Dick Grayson smut #dick grayson titans #titans #titans smut

[troubatrain]

bad behavior - m. tkachuk

a/n: i don’t know when i started writing consistently but here we are. this another part of this series i was super excited about writing because this song is what put the idea in my head to begin with. quick shout out to @hookingminor​, @tkafuckit​, & @davidpastrsnack​ for reading my work and validating it because i swear i would never finish without you guys sometimes. hope you guys like it!

as per usual i recommend listing to the song while you read!

part of my lovely little lonely series

warnings: smut

“...you tell me, you're insecure, but don't be, stay soft, but don't be gentle, it's altogether mental...” - Bad Behavior - The Maine

I’m not a distraction am I?

Of fucking course you are, Matthew thought, buttoning up his dress shirt while he looked at the fresh marks he bit in your back not even fifteen minutes ago. You were the biggest distraction, Matthew forgoing his pre-game nap just for extra time with you between the sheets. You were a mistake he couldn’t stop making, ignoring the constant pull in his chest whenever you left because you didn’t do anything more than what you gave him.

Really, it was probably karmic punishment for all the shitty things Matthew’s done in his life. The universe would drop his dream girl in front of him but as it turns out, she played the game better than him. It wasn’t like he didn’t get a warning from your best friend Ella who’d been dating Sam from what seemed like the dawn of time. You were a heartbreaker, it was just how it was and that was how it’s going to be. Matthew ignored Ella, taking you home without a second thought because that’s what he wanted too. No Strings Attached. Turns out, he was in over his head when you left one night and the other side of Matthew’s bed felt cold for the first time in his life.

“You’re not a distraction pretty girl,” Matthew nods, curls bouncing against his forehead while he admires you from the otherside of his bedroom, “Are you coming tonight?”

“Are you going to be on your worst behavior?” You ask, rolling out of bed to collect your clothes Matthew never seemed to toss in one place. That’s why you were different, every person in his life telling him to ease up in his game - except you. You loved watching Matthew get into it on the ice because after those games the sex was just better.

Matthew chuckles, watching you unhook your panties from the lamp in the corner of the room and frowning when you saw the tear he ripped in them, “I’ll be on my worst behavior if you’re coming home with me later.”

“Twice in one day is pushing your luck Matthew,” You sigh dramatically, fixing his collar and flattening his tie, “And exhausting for me quite honestly.”

“I’ll be easy,” Matthew suggests, fingers gently pushing a piece of hair from in front of your face. Your eyes flutter shut, enjoying the moment. This made it so hard to keep your distance, the fact that Matthew was more of a gentle giant than he led on most of the time. Sure, he could pull your hair back when he hit it from behind and he made the dirtiest jokes in crowded rooms, but when all was said and done - he was kind. Someone would be lucky to have him one day, but that someone just couldn’t be you.

“You’ve never gone easy on me ever,” You giggle, pressing a kiss against Matthew’s jaw, “Good luck.”

***

Matthew didn’t know why he was so nervous about a silly All Star game, but he was. Maybe it was because it was at home, or maybe Brady’s last minute addition had him reconsidering. Either way, he’d been pacing for the last hour and trying to decide if he should tell you to stay home. He couldn’t do that, as if he was going to deny himself the small sliver of happiness he got every time you decided you wanted to see him. You were in charge, and it changed the playing field for Matthew entirely. It wasn’t like it usually was, Matthew being the one who often found themselves hanging by the phone in hopes you’d call. You didn’t, so Matthew got his hopes up and told you to stop by before he left for St. Louis.

“Hey All Star,” You muse, sneaking inside and taking off your coat. Matthew stops his pacing, smiling to himself that you actually showed up when he asked. No answer to his text, because why would you bother to let him know you were on your way. That would be too easy, and you weren’t by any means easy.

Matthew opened his mouth to ask you how your day was, but shut it once he realized he’d never get an answer. The only things he knew about you were learned from Ella and Sam, not a single detail of anything that happened outside of the walls of Matthew’s apartment was ever mentioned to him by you. You knew tons about him, because he opened up to you so easily it was breaking his heart that you wouldn’t do the same. He wondered why he did this to himself, why he didn’t just find someone who was obsessed with him. He liked the chase, Matthew’s athletic intuitions pushing him to strive for the best prize he could find, and you’d be the best of them all if he could have you.

Instead Matthew did what he always does, he pressed his lips to yours and pushed you up against the door. His hands were on your waist, an ironclad grip as if you’d slip right through his hands if he didn’t stop you. You probably would have.

“What’s wrong?” You question, Matthew confused as to how you knew something was up. His eyebrows furrowed, head cocking to the side like a puppy who was trying to figure out what a new sound was. You laugh, a melodic giggle carrying through Matthew��s almost barren apartment, “Your hands are right above my ass but you failed to touch it once, what’s up?”

“I’m, uh, nervous?” Matthew admits, his weaker parts of his brain succumbing to the pout on your lips. That pout could be what killed him. Matthew wasn’t dealing with it well, it being the newfound pressure he’d been feeling to be a top tier player. People expected him to turn it on for every game, and at first he loved it. Then he realized he no longer got the chance to slack off when all eyes were on him, Matthew had been internally crumbling ever since.

That wasn’t necessarily the only reason he’d been insecure lately. You weren’t helping, but you couldn’t be hurting him that much. Maybe you were. Matthew was trying really hard to be cool, but he was failing miserably. He got jealous more often than he liked to admit, and he was a liar if he didn’t deep dive your Instagram to see if you were very clearly seeing someone else. He was gone a lot, and you didn’t owe him any sort of explanation and he knew that. He knew he respected you enough not to ask but he liked you enough to care, and it was eating him alive.

“Pressure’s a lot, I just don’t feel like, you know,” Matthew explains, fumbling over his words and waving his hands because he didn’t want to say it. His voice got lower, words mumbled together when he spoke, “I’m insecure.”

“Don’t be,” You shrug, a wide confident smile on your face. You’d be lying if you said you weren’t a little surprised by Matthew, because as far as you knew he was a big bad guy, or at least he thought he was. You thought it was all bullshit, but you did often think that kind of pressure couldn’t be healthy. Every fiber of your being told you to run, that this was getting too emotional and if you didn’t stop you were going to ruin him forever. You did it all the time, your heart wasn’t built for more than a night and you were just accepting it. If you weren’t going to be able to stop self destructing anyone who tries to connect to you emotionally besides your loved ones you protected so fiercely - then you were going to have fun.

Which is what you thought you were getting into. You took Matthew home with nothing but his reputation spinning around in your head that he was the perfect conquest. Then you fucked, and it was too good to give up. So you kept him at arms length, never giving into those damn eyes and his frown whenever you left after you had sex. It was better that way, for both of you really.

“That’s all you got for me?” Matthew asks, stifling a laugh at your simple answer. He was admitting to you something he’s never let another soul know but you simply just shrugged.

“Okay, how about this,” You take a deep breath, snaking your hands under his shirt and grazing your nails against his skin.

You’re Matthew fucking Tkachuk. Your lips pressed against his jaw, a smirk gracing his face. You don’t give a fuck who’s in your way, you’ll hit them. Your lips moved to his ear, whispering softly. You’re what Doughty’s nightmares are made of. Your hands slipped down, playing with the waistband on his boxers. And you can score with the best of them, on and off the ice. Matthew laughed at that one, a smug smile back on his face where it rightfully should be. You have nothing to worry about.

Both of Matthew’s large hands landed on your cheeks, calloused fingers rubbing against your skin and his lips on yours. He didn’t need to say anything, he’d show you just how badly he needed that. Matthew pushed you towards his bedroom, your back hitting the plush mattress. You tossed your hoodie off, Matthew losing his at the same time. You admired him, the way his muscles were defined in the moonlight from his windows. Matthew’s hands slid down your back, unclasping your bra with one hand and smirking to himself when it slid off. You stroked his ego for a reason, one that ran a chill up your spine while he pressed kisses down your body.

“You’re fucking sexy,” Matthew mutters into your skin, sliding off your leggings and eyes practically rolling to the back of his head when a pair of lacy red panties caught his attention. His finger slid underneath them, fingers slick from your core, “And wet too huh?”

“Do you plan on doing something about it or should I call someone else,” You tease, Matthew’s free hand gripped your thigh when you spoke, jealousy coursing through his veins. He finger pulled against your panties, a loud rip catching your attention, “Matthew!”

“Don’t joke like that then, I’ll take care of you just fine on my fucking own,” Matthew growls, lips ghosting your clit. You whimper, running a hair through Matthew’s hair. His tongue lapped at your pussy, trying to remind you just why you couldn’t shake him. He was competitive, and if he had to fight for his spot in your line up he’d do it. You were a mess, a string of curses falling through your lips and your moans echoing in the room.

“Matty, fuck,” You let out a cry, gripping his curls tightly. Matthew flicked your clit with his tongue, a gasp leaving your mouth. Matthew went to overdrive, his well skilled tongue moving quickly to send you over the edge. You grinded against his mouth, his hands holding down your waist so he could keep going while you came on his face. You finally push his head back, unable to take anymore.

Matthew crawls back up your body, capturing your lips with his and kicking off his boxers. You push him onto his back gently, a smug smile on his face and his hands landing behind his head, “A show?”

“Shut up,” You shake your head, letting out a laugh while you straddle Matthew. You pumped him a few times, lining his cock up with your pussy and easing yourself onto him.

“You look so good on top of me,” Matthew muses, a cocky tone to his voice. You grab the overgrown curls on the nape of his neck, rolling your hips against him and smirking when a groan left his lips, “My perfect fucking girl.”

Matthew’s hand smacked your ass while you rode him at your own speed. His free hand gripped your hip, speeding up your pace. Matthew loved being on top, a translation of his control that he desperately craved, but he let you do whatever you wanted. His hand snuck up your body, hand gently gripping your neck, “If you leave a mark this time Matthew-”

Matthew chuckles, remembering the borderline vicious threats you sent him the last time his grip got a little too tight and you didn’t realize until the next day. Matthew pulls you down to meet his lips, flipping you over onto your and back wrapping on your legs around his waist. His forehead pressed against yours, something you noticed he'd been doing more often lately, “Cum for me, fuck, c’mon.”

“Harder,” You nod, eager to chase your high and give him what you knew he wanted. He liked to get you off, the satisfaction of pleasing you did it for him, Matthew often bragging about how much a giver he really was. Your pussy fluttered around him, Matthew pulling his cock out and spilling onto your stomach. He looked down at you, completely fucked out with his cum on you like you were his. Your eyes were glassy, lips swollen from his while you caught your breath, “Shit.”

Matthew laughs lightly, walking into the en suite bathroom to get you a towel. He was always gentle afterwards, taking care of you after he absolutely wrecked you as if it was going to remind you that maybe he deserved more than you were giving to anyone else. You tuck your head into Matthew’s pillow, sleep about to take over your body. You never stayed, your own little rule because you just knew if you let him hold you it would be over, “Just stay, you look tired pretty girl.”

Matthew’s voice was gentle, his finger running along your bareback lightly while he offered you a shirt in the other. He wanted you to stay so badly, “Matty-”

“My flight leaves in a few hours, it’s like a nap,” Matthew whispers, and you smile at his excuse for you to sleepover. You nod, sitting up and tossing on whatever gray t-shirt he’d given you. You didn’t know, but it was his favorite shirt in the world, the fabric soft like a tee that had been well loved.

Matthew was supposed to have woken you up before he left, dropping you off at your place before he headed to the airport to go home. He was going to, he swore he really was, but when he was leaving you looked so damn cute snoring away in his favorite shirt. So he left you a note, telling you to lock up before you left and that he’d see you the day he got back. You woke up peacefully, the light shining through the floor to ceiling windows in Matthew’s apartment and rolling your eyes at his note. You grab your phone, smiling when you notice he left it charging for you. 

You told me it was a nap.

Maybe you shouldn’t look so cute when you sleep then.

You roll over screaming in the pillow because you were going to ruin him.

***

Matthew had enough of the waiting game.

It's been nine days since that night and Matthew was losing his fucking mind. He was playing like absolute garbage, his name off the scoresheet since the All Star break. Matthew was lashing out left and right, both against the opposition and his own friends when they grew concerned. He thought about moving on, even calling up an old fling. That didn’t end well, Matthew moaning your name by accident in bed and then she left almost immediately after. He was frustrated with himself for getting this invested, but you were intoxicating. Matthew left the Saddledome after another shit game and drove to your place, with the intent that you were either going to hear him out or he was going to have to cut you out of his life.

“Hi?” You were confused when you saw him on the other side of the door, you leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed. You were already pressed, wondering what Matthew thought he was doing banging on your apartment door. He looked pissed, bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days and you were already rolling your eyes at the tweets about him being a bust.

“I can’t do this shit anymore,” Matthew steps inside, stomping into your space and gritting his words, “You have this hold on me, and I know I told you I could be cool about this but I can’t be. I’m fucking jealous of every other dude you could be with and I think about it all the time-”

“And I’m a heartless bitch,” You hiss, every wall you had just got taller. Your words could cut like a knife, and you were ready to let Matthew have it, “I’ve heard it from everyone, I ruin people Matthew, save me the argument.”

“You’re not going to ruin me, I know you, fuck,” Matthew steps forward, every bit of anger in his body disappearing when he saw the way you lip was starting to quiver. His voice got lower, his thumb running along your jaw, “I know you think you bring out the worst in me, but you bring out my best too.”

“I’m going to hurt you, I always do,” You whisper, averting your eyes down so you didn’t have to look at him.

“Then hurt me later,” Matthew took this as his turn to shrug, try and take a page in your book and be a little nonchalant, “For now, could we just try this out? No games, no one else, just us.”

“This is bad for you Matthew,” You give him one more warning, pulling him closer to you and tugging on the curls at the nape of his neck.

“Be bad for me then,” Matthew groans, grabbing a handful of your ass and pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Matthew!”

#matthew tkachuk #matthew tkachuk imagine #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

[soobadnoonecanstopher]

Touch it for Real, Part 3

Genre: Humor / Fluff / Eventual Smut

Warnings: OMG they were roommates / slice of life / slow burn / mutual pining / crude humor / cursing / virgin!baek / enemies to lovers / bug gets meta

Characters: Baekhyun X You/Female Reader

Description: You teach Baekhyun how to date. (Basically the Get You Alone M/V)

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Mia.

Mia, Mia, Mia. 

Oh she was lovely. You’d been chatting with her on Baekhyun’s phone for the better part of an hour and for a moment you forgot all about the man who now laid with his head on the other end of the sofa with his feet stretched over your lap and a phone held up to his face.

He was scrolling through something, giggling and typing. 

The phone you had down in your lap vibrated with another incoming message. 

Laughing emojis, a row of them. She was sharp. Wit and charm came through in her messages and you found yourself responding with an equally long string of laughing faces. The ones with tears leaking out their eyes. She felt so damn familiar and comfortable the moment you got past the awkward introductions and you really started talking to her; the jokes were easy and the topics were something you knew enough about to fake your way though thanks to Baekhyun’s many passions and his absolute inability to shut up about them. He’d held you hostage with so many video games and anime episodes, you knew exactly what she was talking about now. You felt like a complete pseudo pro. A well-read scammer. A faker but a weirdly genuine one. 

You went back to her profile and dragged each of her pictures across the screen with the tip of your finger, switching between them all. She was pretty. She was smart. She was interesting to talk to. She was perfect. Just perfect. A steady warmth had seeped into your chest as you looked at her. It was welcome and actually felt nice at first; if not a little bit unexpected. But the longer you looked at her smile, the more intrusive that warmth felt. After too long, it was sticky and almost too warm. You struggled to breathe deeply. You were breathing normally, there was absolute nothing off about your breathing, but each breath you took suddenly failed to satiate. Why were your lungs suddenly missing oxygen? They were misbehaving without any reason to. You closed out her pictures and returned to the chat window. 

She was asking about the latest episode of an anime. Something that was in its final season. Something you were sure Baekhyun would also be watching soon if he hadn’t seen it already. You could feel her excitement in her words. Something epic must have happened.

“Baek did you watch Attack on Colossatron last night — the latest episode?”

“Not yet—no spoilers, I’ll kill you.” His response was quick and you responded in a similar fashion in text to Mia; without the death threats. You weren’t quite that comfortable with her yet. 

Baekhyun shifted and moved a foot behind you, digging it under your butt into the gap of the couch cushion. You ignored the intrusion because you were talking to Mia. His soon to be brand new girlfriend by the looks of the conversation. You caught what you were certain was subtle flirting just below the contexts. Then outright flirting. She was sending you a picture from the dating profile you’d set up for Baekhyun. She had to have saved the picture to send it. It would now be saved on the camera roll of her phone where she would likely look at it again and again, admiring how good Baekhyun looked in it. 

She was commenting on how unexpectedly handsome you were and how most of the men who shared interests with her did not look like you. 

She was asking for a picture of you—err, of Baekhyun. She was having trouble believing such an attractive man like you was real and she actually used the word catfishing, careful to insist that she wasn't accusing you of anything; just that she was sure you looked just like some celebrity she saw on twitter and one couldn’t be too careful. 

But you were quick to cooperate and to agree with her need for assuredness. As a woman, yourself, you understood her suspicions instantly.  Yes, Baekhyun did look shockingly attractive in the profile pictures you posted of him. You could see how someone might doubt that he was real and he lived only 5 miles away and was now sweeping her off her feet with his engaging conversations and hilarious jokes. You’d be sure and make him thank you well for this later. 

The pictures of him were surprising, even to you, and you lived with the guy. You saw him every single day. Yet something about seeing him in these pictures, dressed in that black button up shirt and jeans and looking at the camera with a breathtaking natural smile; one he gave you so easily that night when you told him just how good he looked all dressed up. 

“Peanut, look at you! You look so fancy.” 

“Wow, I cant believe how handsome you are.” 

It only took a couple of sincere compliments for the man to unfold before you and the results on camera pulled you into an uncomfortable and unwelcome thoughtfulness when you looked at them alone later. Of course you knew he was handsome. You just hadn’t been prepared for how very attractive he would look on camera. 

You got all his best angles and the man had taken you off guard when you’d bravely asked him to give you a sexy look. 

It happened just at the end of your little makeshift photo-shoot. You were both a little tired, you could tell with the way he slowed down with his talking and his movements. You could always tell when Baekhyun was tired. Sometimes before even he knew it. 

The sun had gone down and you’d pulled him from your room into the living room where the lights from the city shone through the floor-to-ceiling glass windows, creating a soft glow on his face. The moon was full outside. It was a chilly winter night and snowflakes drifted down to the street below. You were feeling perhaps a bit romantic. Perhaps you were a little bit grateful to be inside and warm and spending your time capturing the pretty face of your annoying best friend. 

You’d gotten a bit bold with the pictures and he’d been behaving so well, not even complaining when you asked him to lay down on the floor so you could capture the beautiful city-scape in the background of the shot. He’d gone still while you set up; moving furniture and turning on a lamp in the corner for more lighting on his features — you wondered briefly if maybe he had fallen asleep. 

You laid down beside him holding your camera up in the right spot to get something nice. His eyes had closed up and his breathing was even and slow and when you’d softly called his name with your camera acting as a barrier in between your faces, you’d expected it to act as more of a buffer than it did. 

“Baekhyun?”

When he heard you call him, his eyes opened and he turned his head toward the sound of your voice; the shift in his eyes was stark and breathtaking and he blinked them closed and then very slowly he opened his eyes again for you. 

“Hmm?” His lips stayed closed when he hummed a response.

What exactly were you going for here? The mood was set. The lighting and the scenery were in place. Hell, even the position of him was set —him laying beside you on the floor in the middle of the night like this when everyone knew it was much too late to be entertaining any of this nonsense. The longer you looked at him the more shades of pink you saw in his cheeks. The pinkness matched his lips and the lighting made every bit of warm flush on his face tell such a romantic story. He looked so very warm and inviting. 

You took a shot and you said it. If the picture came out well, that would be rewarding enough. 

But, you didn't actually expect a real sexy look. Not really. You’d expected something silly, or something goofy or something with an awkward smile. Maybe it was the nighttime, or the way he unbuttoned the top two buttons of his shirt and just let it hang open with the clear smoothness of his chest visible, but when he pulled his chin down and ran a hand through his styled hair, bringing it down just a little bit; giving it a messy and tousled look, you had to grip the camera tighter to keep from doing something dumb like accidentally dropping it. You could not understand the flash of nervousness you felt run through you. 

He lifted a single eyebrow. You had called him and it was clear from the inactivity in the camera that you weren’t taking any pictures of him. 

“Hmm?” He repeated the hum that came from the back of his throat. His eyebrow danced and it was the only movement on his face.

You inhaled a breath and you did it.

“You look incredibly sexy right now.” 

Despite the camera, despite the props you’d placed around him just so, his eyes seemed to seek out yours with purpose; one hand on the floor was within touching distance and the other hand rested over his forehead from when he’d ran it through his hair, the tips of his fingers landed over one of his eyes and it was so perfect. You felt goosebumps all over your skin.  

The moment his eyes locked into yours you gripped the camera as if your life depended on it. When his lips slowly parted with a gentle exhale and the tip of his tongue appeared between his parted lips and slowly touched against the corner of his bottom lip a surge of heat rose up the back of your throat. 

“I do?” He said with his eyes on yours as if he was looking directly at you; as if the camera did not even exist. 

You hit the button and you heard the shutter click. 

You allowed yourself a moment to look at the picture Mia had sent you. Only a moment though because she was talking again. She was instructing you to send a new picture right now, with your left hand holding your right earlobe. It was the kind of specific sort of picture that would prove that you really did exist. 

“Peanut,” you reached down and tapped his leg three times quickly, “Peanut, our new girlfriend wants a picture of you right now with your,” you held up your hands in front of your face, figuring out which was the left one, “left hand holding your right earlobe.” You held up your left hand for him to see and he pulled the phone down from his face to look at you. After a second his opposite hand was raised and he gripped his earlobe with his fingertips. 

“Is that your left hand?” You raised your left hand higher and lifted your eyebrows as you shook your head once. You felt a sense of urgency in getting this picture to Mia as fast as possible to calm her doubts. 

“It’s my left. My left is your right, stupid. Why do I have to do this?” 

You snapped the picture close enough that it would look like a selfie and sent the image to Mia. She was satisfied enough to send an emoji with heart eyes and you could feel victory at your fingertips. You could hardly believe this was working. 

“She thought you weren’t real.” You said in between messages and Baekhyun’s leg was shaking behind your back. He’d been sitting still for too long here and the nervous energy was building, you could feel it trying to escape from his limbs. He probably needed to go for a run or something or you were in for a long and noisy night of singing or dancing or whatever other shenanigans he thought you needed to suffer though. He hummed a non-response to your answer, clearly so distracted by what was happening on his screen that he couldn’t be bothered to give you any more of his attention right now. 

Baekhyun was not so quietly giggling under his breath and you looked up caught by that very particular sound of it. Something felt familiar in the sound of that giggle; more, the intentions behind it. The particular sneakiness of it maybe made you look up and it took you another second of listening to the way he stifled himself, tried to control the sounds of his laughter before a realization dawned and recognition struck you on the head. 

Baekhyun couldn’t have been giggling, laughing, texting, having a grand ol’ time on his phone because you had his phone in your hands. You had been talking to Mia for a whole damn hour, who in the hell was Baekhyun talking to and was that your phone he was using? 

“Baekhyun who are you talking to on my phone?”

His stomach bounced with stifled laugher below his shirt and he was typing again. His eyes secured on the screen of your phone and not at all looking at you. 

“Baek, who is that. What are you doing?” It wasn’t that you didn't trust him with your private conversations. He knew more about you than probably any other human being on the planet. It wasn't the problem with him knowing it. The problem was with that laughter. The problem was with what Byun Baekhyun might do with all of the things he knew about you and with whoever the hell had the misfortune of texting you at the exact moment when he had your phone.

“Ben,” Baekhyun said after a long pause and you searched through your recent memory for a person who had that name. You’d matched with some guys last week but you were certain there was no one with that name. 

“Ben? Who the hell is Ben? I don't know a Ben” You were leaning now and Baekhyun bent his legs up as soon as you moved, blocking your lean with his knobby knees. You leaned on the other side of them and he moved them to block again. 

The maneuver brought out the panic in you. He was blocking you from your own phone. He was up to something and he was now blocking you from reaching for your phone and you had just nearly murdered him in the kitchen over cheese, did he really want to do this again? 

“Give me my phone. Baek, who the shit is Ben?”

“I don't know. Some guy named Ben. Said he was some lady’s nephew or cousin or something. He knew your number and he knew your name, and wow he is—”

Oh god. Your co-worker Susie had done it. The son-of-a-bitch had actually given your phone number out this time even though you had successfully, you’d thought, dodged their high pressure tactics to set you up with some eligible bachelor who would probably be 10 years too old for you, balding, with bad teeth, or bad habits, or would be obsessed with his car or his muscles or some sports team and you’d have to make nice small talk with someone who’s interests, frankly, bored you to death until you could politely let the man down. 

And now, what was Baekhyun telling him? What kinds of horrific lies was this little gremlin giggling about over there. You tilted and reached for him again and he moved his knees again. 

“Bug, how- how do you spell hemorrhoids? Hem—hem—er—roids, no that’s not right. Let me look it up. It’s important that I represent you well. A strong, intelligent woman who can talk about her hemorrhoids.” 

You leaped then, over the stupid knees you flew and you landed hard — seated across his belly and the pained grunt he let out was satisfying to hear. He doubled up in pain while simultaneously shoving your phone underneath himself into the softness of the couch cushions and you watched it disappear somewhere below his butt where he assumed you would not dare to reach. 

“Baekhyun,” you said in as calm a voice as you could pry from your lips. Your teeth gritted together as you spoke and much of the sweetness was lost in the delivery.

Your hands were feeling the softness of the cushions that he laid on. You followed an arm that went down and disappeared behind his back and your fingers traveled to the end where you felt no phone at all, only his empty hand that you pulled up. You did the same on the other side, moving to the other hand and bringing it back empty too. On his face he wore a smug, self-satisfied smile. 

“Peanut,” your next attempt at a compromise pulled his name out in a sweeter tone and his lips turned up into a mischievous grin with teeth bared and all. To your own ears though, you really laid it on thick. This was your darling Peanut. You let your whine come through and you pulled your lips into a pouty frown.

“Bug,” he said, mimicking your overly saccharine tone with a tiny lift of an eyebrow on his face and a fake frown that didn’t touch the rabid joy in his eyes.

“Give me back my phone,” you said and your hands dug into his ribs hard as he reached for your wrists and quickly grabbed to hold you still with both of his free hands before you could do any actual damage to him. 

You struggled against his strong hands, reaching with out-stretched fingers despite his hold on you for a few more tickles before he tightened the grip and you could not connect any more attacks. 

“Give me back my phone,” he giggled back, again mocking your ineffective attempts to overpower him. You simply couldn’t do it. He was much stronger than you were.  

The childishness of this brat! You closed your eyes up tight as you forced yourself to take a deep calming breath. You could feel close to the edge again. Close to losing control. How many murder attempts did you need to commit today? Maybe you needed to enroll in anger management classes. You tried to count to ten again but gave up halfway through to threaten him again. 

“I’m going to get mad, give me my phone.” The friendly tone you had forced was gone and you could hear the actual anger in your voice now. Any reasonable person would concede. Any normal human adult would laugh it off playfully, say ‘okay, okay, I was only kidding’ and hand the thing over. A normal person would even apologize for taking it in the first place. 

Baekhyun was not a normal person.

“Ohhh, I’m going to get mad,” you heard him say in that same mocking voice and no amount of calming breaths could touch it. You could count to ten thousand and still want to destroy him. You squirmed all over and pulled at your wrists that he held in his grip and his hold tightened the more you moved until you could only lean, you could only fight back with one thing. The more you fought him, the tighter his muscles constricted and it became evident that you simply could not win this way. Your hands were useless to you. Only your head was free. You’d have to use it to your advantage, but how? 

You could headbutt him; break his nose. Break your head. Make both of you take a trip to the hospital during a global pandemic. Catch the dreaded disease. Lose your sense of taste and smell and potentially infect someone vulnerable that you loved. 

He was like a cat. Only interested in playing with something until it was dead and then losing interest after he couldn’t torture it anymore. You couldn't simply play dead. He had you trapped and you needed that phone back. 

You could bite him. Break the skin. Mean business for real. Make him bleed and make him cry. Make him pay for all of it. Give him a nasty scar on his hand, or on his neck or on his chest, maybe rip off his earlobe like Tyson did to Holyfield. Send him to the hospital during a global pandemic. Go to prison for assault charges. Get a nasty infection from a prison tattoo. Die.

Your struggle for a plan made you go physically still and you looked at his face; into his eyes and in those eyes sat all the usual bullshit and toddler behavior that you usually saw when he had latched on to something to tease you with, something he could play with and have fun with at your expense. Something he could exploit. 

You could use your mouth. 

You could use your lips.

You could use your tongue. 

What is this? Some sort of trashy rom-com? Would you really stoop so low, so early in the story? Kiss him to distract him, become a walking, talking, kissing cliché and an unoriginal failure of a human being? Get scolded and told to leave his home. Become homeless during a global pandemic. Without high speed internet access, lose your easy breezy data entry job. Get hungry and get cold. Possibly end up selling a kidney on the black market to make ends meet. Get a nasty infection from the shady surgery. Die. 

No. This wasn’t a cheesy romance story. This was your life. You’d have to live with the consequences of your choices and there was no way you would steal his first kiss just to get petty revenge.

This wasn’t enemies-to-lovers, this a violent revenge plot and you were pissed off god-dammit. How dare this idiot get you into such a compromising, such an undignified, such a frustratingly suggestive position and hold you captive like this. 

How dare he still be smiling through your entire inner monologue?

Didn't he know anything at all about women and the powers they possessed in their bodies? 

He flinched visibly when you dropped down; lowered your chest to his chest and you were face to face with the man. Your quick movement startled him and he loosened the grip around your wrists enough for you to rotate them before he tightened his hold again and watched you with wide eyes. That grin finally, finally fell from his mouth. His lips sat down-turned and pink. He’d gone positively pink with your quick movement. Your plan to move into him instead of struggling to get away clearly startled him. You felt the advantage at once. 

When you moved again it was only your eyeballs and it was to look pointedly at his lips before you pulled your eyes back up to look into his eyes. The slow movement made a bold statement, even to someone as clueless as he was. You were on top of him. He could most definitely feel the entirety of your weight on his body and your breasts were flush against his chest. And now, you had just looked down at his pink lips. 

Whatever steady and in-control breathing he had, stuttered and his body below yours went rigid with his eyes wide; obviously unsure of what you were about to do and much too on edge to take his eyes off of you. 

What became clear as you stared at his flushed face up close was that he had not thought this far ahead in his plan.

He probably didn't even have one to begin with. 

You moved closer to him and his hands released their hold on you again. You heard a gasp for air when his hand let go. You weren’t convinced he let go on purpose. There seemed to be a disconnected look inside his eyes right now. 

Instead of going straight for his earlobe and squeezing the shit out of it to teach him a lesson, you kept this going. You could not help it. You felt drunk on your own power and you didn't actually want to hurt him. You just wanted the damn phone so you could see what damage he had already done and begin cleaning up the messes. 

He swallowed and his lips opened to speak.

“W-What are you doing?” 

Nervous and trembling and uncertain; oh he was all of the above. Your free hand was moving now, traveling down the length of his arm to his flank when he moved again, this move felt much more frantic than the last. He grabbed your wrist more gently than before when you got close enough to touch him and he pulled your hand back. A feeble attempt it seemed, made by a man who had just come to his senses again after being in a daze. 

You leaned in. “Peanut,” you said directly into the space below his ear. You could smell him here. He smelled nice. Clean, and vaguely familiar. You remembered your shampoo that he still had and made a mental note to get it back from him. The scent of it on him was different than on you. The breath you took at his neck definitely smelled different. 

He was frozen stiff and when you pulled up to look at his face, his eyes were closed. He swallowed again and you reveled in the realization that you had not heard a single peep out of him since you began your counter-attack. Not a giggle, not a mocking laugh. Not a silly impression of what your voice sounded like to him. He was as quiet as a mouse. It paid to be pro-active. You felt free, as if you’d just been armed with some new very effective weapon that you had no idea would work so well. 

He had your hand again and was pulling — keeping you from reaching below his body to reach where you were certain your phone was stashed. Right here below his left butt cheek. Maybe even inside his back pocket. Either way it was there and you were centimeters away from it. 

So you went in again. This time it was a whisper. This time you went too far. You felt the softness of his neck brush against your bottom lip.

“Give it to me, while I am still being nice.” 

It was the exhale from your lips after you spoke that seemed to do it. The puff of air from your parted lips that drifted over his ear and warmed his neck, you felt him squirm below you and his hands moved releasing you all over and all at once. 

He was going now. He was leaving. You felt it happening below you. 

It was a tactic you’d used before when he tried to grab a hold of you and throw you onto your bed, or when he tried to wrestle something away from you in the kitchen. 

He went boneless. When you did it he would shout and laugh and lose his grip on you and you’d use the distraction to drop to the floor and roll out of his grip in one motion. It was much more difficult for him to do right now, being directly under you on the couch like this, but somehow he was vanishing fast. 

He moved so quickly it was like he melted from beneath you and he was pushing you off at the same time as he rolled, simply rolled from the sofa down onto the floor below in a single motion of retreat. 

You know that was where he went because you heard the rough thump of his body hitting the floor hard and you heard the grunt as he vocalized the pain of gravity having it’s final say. You were pushed with a force that made you roll onto your butt and below your legs you felt the rectangle of plastic and glass of your cell phone. 

He was moving fast. But he was also talking as he did it. 

“You are mean,” was what he said and he was halfway through the living room by the time you registered his complaint. 

Something about his fit irked you though. Was it such a big deal — so out of the question? Did he hate the idea of you kissing him, even if on accident that he had to overreact like this. 

“Oh settle down, It’s not like I was going to actually kiss you, Baekhyun.”

You’d expected to hear his bedroom door slam shut but he’d stopped with his hand on his door and turned his face in your direction. His expression was odd. 

Baekhyun was rarely upset with you, so you had very little experience with what he looked like when he was. He had been upset with others around you, but it wasn’t ever directed at you.

“I know you weren’t.” 

You could see it from where you sat and it made you stand up. Wait, was he really upset? At you? Because you pretended like you were going to steal his first kiss? Because you took something so precious to him and weaponized it against him? 

He was breathing hard and you took a step in his direction. 

“Baek, I was just—” 

“—trying to get your phone, I know.” His voice was cold and his words were short.

You suddenly felt like absolute shit. It moved fast and it overwhelmed you. You’d made a mistake and Baekhyun was upset at you. You’d acted carelessly and thoughtlessly and you’d hurt him. 

“We...we were playing around, I was just playing around, I didn’t mean it, Peanut. I’m sorry.” You could not help the thickness in your voice. You could not help how your voice cracked as you spoke up quickly, needing to get the apology out into the air before he could misunderstand any further. 

Before he could wake up and realize how low of a person you could be when you really set your mind to it. Before he could understand that maybe you didn't deserve so many chances to get your life together and get a better job, or be a better roommate, or make more money and pay more rent, or delete your facebook, or create better passwords. 

You realized you were crying when the wetness dripped down your chin and landed on your arm and as soon as you noticed you lifted both of your hands up to cover your face — before he saw, before he noticed or heard. You held your breath to keep from hiccupping or making any sort of sound at all and you closed your eyes and tried to stop the quiet gasps. 

You succeeded for the most part. 

It was the smell of him though. You did not notice that he moved, but you smelled him again, only this time it came with a warmth that enveloped you where you stood.  

“I’m not mad at you,” he whispered over your head and you inhaled through the snot that filled your nose, unable to get any air through. You gasped through your mouth instead and hiccupped through the breath. 

“You seemed mad at me,” you said into his shirt, the same shirt you’d cried into hours ago. This shirt would have so much of your messes on it by the end of the day. What in the world had gotten into you today? Maybe you were going to start your period soon. This was getting ridiculous. 

His hands rubbed slow and steady circles over your back and until the gasping stopped enough for you to lift your head and look into his face. 

“I’m not,” he said with more conviction the second time and you almost believed it. Had it not been for the strange way his eyes dropped yours so easily you would have. 

You didn't say that though. 

His lips parted once and his eyes grasped yours in that flimsy way again and his lips closed up again as he swallowed it away and didn’t say what he was about to say. 

You shook your head. He had to tell you. Whatever it was, you could work on it, do some self reflecting, or read some self help books. 

“What is it? Tell me.” Your insistence was desperate and his damn eyes refused to stick. It was making you crazy the more you noticed it. 

His mouth opened again and this time he inhaled deep enough to speak for hours and hours. 

“Peanut, what?” 

“Don't—” he began and you closed your mouth and looked into his face, dipping to catch them when his eyes dropped again and again. He noticed the dance you did and you saw the light dance inside his eyes. 

“Don't what? I’ll do it. Or I won’t do it. Whatever, just tell me.” If there was one thing you were good at, it was talking to this man. You could always pull it out. Whatever he had been sitting on, keeping from you, whatever he had deep down inside that was begging to be let out. You could talk to him. He could talk to you. It’s as part of the magic you shared with him. 

“Peanut,” you said again, refusing to let him close up again, refusing to let this go. He had to say his piece for the upset to move behind you both, so you could get past it. 

“Don't use your beauty as a weapon against me.” 

As soon as the words left so did his eyes, but that did not matter because you could not look into his face anymore after he said it either. 

Your…beauty?

Baekhyun didn’t look at you and see beauty. Impossible. You were a mess. Some days you showered. Some days you did your hair. These two events rarely happened on the same day. 

Outside you could pull off some-what put-together and even downright attractive when you wore the miracle bust enhancing bra you bought off some shady website he definitely told you not to enter any credit card info into, but inside you felt like a circus clown wearing a respectable young woman suit. Every day you worked to stuff the oversized shoes into your feet and struggled to zip them up. Every day you painted over your honking red nose with concealer in the hopes that it wouldn’t rain today and give you away. 

“It’s really shitty and really unfair to do to me.” He kept talking and you felt like maybe the ceiling had caved in on you. “I know who I am. I know my place and I know what league I am in.”

He said the word league with a whisper and you stared at his mouth as he spoke such nonsense words you hardly had any thoughts that made any sense inside of your own head. 

League? He was such an amazing person, but league? You’d heard some serious bullshit come out of his mouth in the past, but this? Seriously? 

He was a genius. He was beautiful inside and out and he was such a good person, a good person to you, a good person to his grandmother, a good person to his online friends. He was so good at whatever he wanted to do and he was really fucking sweet when he wasn’t being ridiculous. And even when he was being ridiculous it was so funny you usually didn't mind the ear deafening noise involved. He was a great dancer and an even better singer and he had so much to offer. 

He was shy. He was terribly embarrassed and debilitatingly nervous at the mere idea of talking to any other girl that wasn’t you and he took a whole lot of warming up to until he opened up to you even, but when he finally did, after tiptoeing around him for 4 months after you’d moved in and he finally grabbed a bowl of popcorn and sat beside you on the couch to watch lifetime movies with you, making fun of the writing and the acting the entire time until he was making fun of you for crying at the happy ending. 

He was reliable too. He refused to even entertain the idea of you moving out just because you could no longer afford the previously agreed upon rent after you lost your job. He searched for something to hold you over until you could get back on your feet and while the data entry thing was mind numbing, it was genuinely saving your life most days. You could at least pay your bills. You could at least force him to accept the much lower rent you started paying him again after you got your first paycheck. 

Oh god. League? 

You could feel it building again. The burning in your eyes peaked and you felt your face frowning down dramatically and the tears were flowing more freely than before. 

“You’re such an idiot.” You cried openly and his face changed at once into one of extreme concern. His hands waved over you uselessly, occasionally connecting to pat over your back in some attempt to stop this. 

“You are such a catch, you stupid idiot!” You were wailing very loudly. You could not help it. He was such an idiot. And he was such a catch. 

“Oh my god, are you yelling at me right now? After everything you’ve done to me today, now you are yelling at me and calling me names. Great. Just Great. Here, my face doesn’t hurt, why don't you punch me in the face too.” 

The sarcasm made you half laugh half choke in the middle of a particularly strong sob and you coughed with your mouth open to be able to breathe. Your nose was still useless. 

“Jesus,” he said to himself, “my mouth was open.” 

You were being steered. Your eyes were still closed and you were pushed now. You didn't really want to move but your stubborn legs saved you by taking a step instead of letting you fall flat on your face. You opened your eyes when you felt a fresh cold breeze against the wet surface of your cheeks and you saw in front of you the contents of the freezer. 

There were some frozen veggies. Some ice in a bin. Something meat-like in a freezer bag. And about six different boxes of various ice creams. Most of them chocolate. 

“Get one,” he said and his hand was pushing your elbow up and steering your hand toward the open box of chocolate popsicles. 

You grabbed with your open hand and he pulled your elbow back like you were a claw machine and he was working the lever. 

You grasped the popsicle between both of your hands with a small smile building against your will. 

“Eat it,” he said from behind your head and you were already ripping at the plastic wrapper. You didn’t even have a chance to throw away the wrapper when his hand was pushing at your elbow again. It bent upward and the chocolate plopped right into your open mouth. 

“Bite,” he said. 

You bit. He didn't have to tell you to chew and swallow. You knew how to do the rest. 

After the ice cream you were seated on the sofa next to him and he pulled out a portable game system to keep him entertained while he pressed play on the movie he’d put on the big tv on the wall. 

It was Bridget Jones's Diary. You had seen it enough times to know the entire movie by heart and still, still you laughed at every joke, swooned at every steamy look, and squealed like a piglet at every kiss scene. It literally did not get old. You could fall asleep and wake up watching this movie for the rest of your life and be as happy as ever. 

After he’d felt you’d been babied enough for him to trust you not to dissolve into a fit of disaster without him, he left you alone to finish your movie. He said something about a bug he was working on fixing and you could hear him working from behind his closed door in his room. 

He had been quiet as he worked. He usually was, save for the occasional song he sang along to, or work sounding phone call he took. 

The credits were rolling on your happy ending and you could feel the beginnings of the first few period cramps twinging inside of your abdomen. 

Everything made sense now, as it usually did whenever your period began. 

You’d just stood to head toward the kitchen for some pain medicine when Baekhyun’s bedroom door was abruptly pulled open.  

He bolted through the doorway and his phone was in his hands, his eyes were wide. Panic was written all over his face as he searched the room for you and finally made eye contact with you in the kitchen. 

You had a bottle of pain reliever in one hand and another popsicle in your other and you were trying to figure out the logistics of getting the bottle of medicine open without having to put the sticky melty treat down anywhere and things weren’t going so well. Things were getting drippy. 

Baekhyun arrived then and you beamed a wide and genuinely happy to see him smile. He would help you. He would open the pills. He would stuff you full of them to stop the pain. 

At this point you didn't even care how many. You’d take however many the Gods decided to shake free from their plastic prison. 

“Help,” he said, walking by the medicine you held out to him with his phone displayed in his hands. “Help me, she...our girlfriend, Maya, she—”

You gasped at his mispronunciation and you lifted your popsicle hand toward his face as you made the sounds with your mouth, “Mia. Like Mee-uh.”

“Mia, Maya, Moira, She is — she is talking to me.” His eyes were wide and they were crazed. 

“She’s saying things and she’s really fucking smart and clever and she’s saying things to me, Bug. She’s, oh god, -the fuck didn't you tell me she was cute. Fuck. You have to help me. She thinks I’m cute too. Oh God. What do I do? What’s next?”

He was breathless when he was done and both of your hands were still full. Your popsicle was beginning to drip down your wrist. You would have to clean it up before you got ants. You still had some medicine to take too. 

He was pacing. He thought she was cute too, it wasn’t just you who thought so. He said it himself. Although he reacted this way with nearly every girl you had seen him interact with. Hell, just last week he made you answer the door for the delivery chicken because the girl was cute and he wasn’t about to scribble his signature all over her hand by accident. 

“Baekhyun, I already laid the groundwork for you.” Maybe the day was finally catching up to you but you felt suddenly very tired and in no mood to play make-believe with him right now. 

“What does that mean?” His face betrayed his utter cluelessness and you sighed deeply, feeling much of the same melancholy mood return to you despite the chocolate and your favorite movie still fresh on your tongue. “What does that mean? I don't know what to do. You were going to help me.” 

He was right. You shouldn’t just abandon a friend in need like you’d abandoned the popsicle in the trash can just now. 

“You have a new episode of your show to watch. She also likes that show. Why don't you stream it together?” 

His eyes lit up and his smile was wide and beautiful. Then he was spinning on his heels without even so much as a glance back. He typed into his phone and had nearly reached the door of his bedroom without even acknowledging your help when at the last minute you caught the look he shot you. It was a bright smile. He was excited and his smile reached his eyes. 

“She said yes,” he said, “thanks, Bug.”

His door closed and you reached for the bottle of pills. Grabbing just two today, you downed them quickly and retreated to your room with a gloomy, lonely, little storm cloud floating stubbornly over your head. 

Part 1 , Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4

Tag list: @j-pping @blahblahblah-boo @his-mochi-cheeks @amyeonzing@littleflowercrown13 @baekinmylife @insta1010 @nana-banana @f4ncyvelvet@bbhbeth  @totallynerdstuff​​  @byunbabybaek​​  @beg0neth0t420

#Baekhyun #Baekhyun fic #exo #exo fic #baekhyun series #exo series #baekyun au #exo au #baekhyun exo #baekhyun fluff #baekhyun smut #exo smut #baekhyun fiction #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun ff #baekhyun fanfiction

[seraphimguks]

roses, poetry and jeon.

☾ pairing: bookstore employee!jungkook x reader

★ summary: Between the pieces of sappy poetry and dried rose petals hidden in every book you buy from the local bookstore; you fall in love with the anonymously enigmatic writer.

➳  genre: bookstore au, enemies to lovers-ish?, fluff, slight angst

☂ words: 12k

♡ a/n: hellooo! So, after countless days and nights working on this, I’m VERY proud as to how it came out to be. I don’t have any experience as a bookstore employee so please forgive me if I made some mistakes! Also, all the poetry compositions have been written by yours truly hehe. I really hope you guys enjoy this story as much I enjoyed writing it! Let me know how you felt (reblogs and comments go a long way!) c:

                                                               ~*~

The sunlight filtering through your window was a familiar feeling. As it warmed your covers, you lazily turned to the other side of your bed hoping to find a cooler spot to resume your slumber. When not even cocooning yourself helped, you angrily pulled your blanket over your frame and let the heat take the win for this one.

You opened your eyes and took a minute to take in your surroundings. You felt like your party-hungry college student-self waking up one morning on someone else’s bathroom floor that wasn’t yours. In that reverie, you winced as you could almost taste the vodka at the back of your throat and the puke roiling up in your stomach.

A half open book lay face down on your nightstand and dried up drool pooled near the top of your pillow, possibly because you dozed off in between. You checked your phone, and was relieved that it was the weekend. There were no messages from work, you wanted to jump up in joy like you were a child on sugar rush.

Your job as a market assistant was good, and although you enjoyed the work, sometimes it felt dry and you lost all enthusiasm to continue. Your boss was an asshole, you really wanted to smack him. Your colleagues were no less either, but in all speaking you didn’t want to change your job yet because it paid well to give you a good apartment room and four-square meals a day.

Even thinking about work made you upset. You hugged your knees to your chest, resting your head on them because you were just too tired. Deep down in your conscious, you knew you couldn’t pursue your true passion for financial reasons and because it was just a dying profession.

Thoughts aside, you decided to treat yourself to the weekend by going to the bookstore just around your block. You loved bookstores, it was your favourite retreat growing up when your father would come and pick out the books you wanted to borrow. You were a very avid reader as a child, however as the homework started piling up as you went up a grade, there was no time to wiggle some reading time in between the cracks of your heavy schedule. Until now.

The bookstore opened five years ago, a cozy place that usually met a lukewarm crowd on weekends. You were a regular there. The owner, Kim Namjoon, was few years elder to you but was polite, handsome and very well read despite having a demanding position at his accounting job. Namjoon had opened the bookstore as a part-time thing to stay rooted to his love for literature, and since his profession earned well, he was able to recruit two or three employees to help him out when he was at work.

Ji Changmin was the cutest employee there, and honestly you couldn’t deny that part of the reason why you headed up to the cozy establishment was to see him. He had an ebullient disposition with lovely dimples that you couldn’t help but think was cute. He always greeted new customers with a wide smile and you stifled a laugh when you remembered his extremely loud shriek when one of the customers accidentally dropped a book. The poor boy almost fell from the ladder when he was trying to sort out the books on the highest shelf.

He was a dance major at the nearby University and his shifts were on the weekends, the two days when he was free. He often came to the store disheveled from practicing on his own, but he still managed to clean up and look flawless in a simple apron uniform.

You also knew that the first weekend of the new month meant fresh arrivals – so not only were you going to see your favourite employee (you would never tell Changmin, of course) and get some eye-candy, but also browse through the new novels waiting to be read by fellow bookworms like yourself. Maybe even eye Changmin over the top of the pages you read, and knowing him long enough he would probably be practicing few steps of his dance routine, and oh didn’t he look sexy.

And with that said, you were ready in flat 15 minutes.

 ~*~

 The conundrum of living in cities was known to you – the whizz of scooters going by in the morning, the delightful screams of school children returning from class in the afternoon and the shutters of karaoke bars and clubs opening up for the evening.

That’s why you were so relieved that the apartment you were housing in was located in a sleepy neighbourhood, where the hustle-bustle was less pronounced.  It was also near a subway that took you effortlessly to work. The street which you lived in mostly had all the necessities you could ask for, from grocery markets, a hospital, small cafes, retail stores, and of course, a medium-sized bookstore.

Fact and Fiction Bookstore was a store squeezed in between a medical shop and an apartment, just a couple of blocks from your place. It always had a wooden signboard that had “Open” and “Closed” in hand drawn letters and the interiors were festooned with decorative pendant lamps that lit the room in a golden halo. Walnut coloured, skyscraper height bookshelves lined the walls in even spaces, from classics to children’s books to study materials. There were few wooden stools scattered hither and tither and a small cash register at the extreme center, that led to the store room in the back. Overall, the shop had a modern yet minimalistic look that was to your liking.

As you walked inside of Fact and Fiction, you heard the familiar bell chime as you pushed open the doors. You made it just in time, and of course there were no customers there. You smiled a bit, knowing that Changmin might just be around and you could have some quality time with him for a bit. But instead of seeing Changmin usually wiping the bookshelves carefully, you were surprised to see Namjoon in his place.

“Oh Y/N! So nice to see you this morning,” Namjoon smiled, walking up to you. Namjoon never came on weekends, and if he did, it was when one of the employees were unable to work anymore. But that was very rare. Could that mean-

“Hey Namjoon,” You said, trying to mask the slight disappointment. “I thought you didn’t come on weekends?”

“I don’t, but now I guess I have to,” He laughed, returning to clean the bookshelves at the far right of the room.

“Why, what happened to Changmin?” You faked playing it cool by taking a book off the Bestseller’s shelf.

“He had to leave, he got scouted by an entertainment agency couple days ago. He’s going to be a trainee,” Namjoon shouted from the opposite side of the room.

As much as your heart felt like it fell from the sky, that you were no longer going to be ogling over the button eyed boy now, you felt a surge of happiness at Changmin finally achieving his lifelong dream to be an idol. It would take some years, but seeing him on the big screen – possibly even cuter – made your heart flutter. Of course, Namjoon was handsome too, so you didn’t mind stealing glances at him now that you no other choice.

“So, what are you going to do, now that he’s gone?” You asked. Surely the other two employees would be a replacement, you thought.

“I already hired a new employee; he’s going to be in charge in weekends now,” Namjoon wiped his hands on the cloth and disappeared into the storeroom.”

You silently nodded to yourself. It was silence now, just you and the books. Evidently you moved to the New Arrivals section, picking an interesting book cover and started reading the first chapter.

As soon as you ensconced in the setting, you heard the door open with the low chatter of what you assumed were female college students.

You heard footsteps. Someone from the other end of the store, presumably the new employee, greeted them in the conventional fashion bookstore employees usually do.

"What may I help you ladies with?"

The hair on the back of your neck stood. Your ears perked up out of its own volition. The vibrations in your heart quickened. Your knees suddenly felt weak, goosebumps erupting on every inch of your skin. You felt the air shifting, as if the coffee toned floorboard beneath you was angled and moved on its own accord.

You've heard that voice before. No, you knew that voice. You started to panic, leaving the book you were reading on the wrong shelf and scurrying past the aisles to the center of the room, where the voice seemingly came from.

You tried to recall where and whom the voice belonged to. The vestiges of your brain that locked out certain memories of your high school unlocked. Your mind worked like a tape recorder left on fast forward. If what you thought was right, it seemed as if that voice belonged to a certain five foot something, a mean, nitpicking, lanky teenager that went by the name –

 Jeon Jungkook.

 Your eyes widened immediately. The second you laid eyes on your high school enemy, your legs went cold. You stood there gawking at the boy – now a man – and couldn't for a second fathom why, in all places, he just had to work here in the same neighborhood you lived in. For a second you were cursing Namjoon, but honestly how could that innocent and charming aficionado, unalike Jungkook, know who your high school nemesis was?

Jungkook too, seemed flustered by your appearance, hand straight away behind his neck as he looked at you sheepishly. He aged well, you thought for a moment. He was no longer the gangly teenager that he was; he was bulky, with budding muscles on his arms if you strained your eyes just a bit. He grew out of his ridiculous mushroom haircut, settling for a fringe that slightly kissed the top of his eyes. He grew taller, no doubt, and this time he grew into his features, a square face with a visible jawline that could, quite literally cut glass.

Your history with Jungkook was clear as day. You guys were classmates in high school for four years. The then 15-year-old used to tease you every chance he got. He used to make fun of what you wore, the pieces of writing you wrote and why you always received the highest scores in literature class. Even when he asked for your help in getting better scores in English, he would always speak with a hint of sarcasm and impatience. You left high school cursing him through and through, but was happy you'd never get to see or run into him ever again. Until today.

"Hi Y/N," he said.

"Jungkook," you took a step forward, crossing your arms. This was habit you did as a form of defensive mechanism. Sure, whatever teenage Jungkook said to you during your high school years were long past, but it did put a dent in your self-esteem even if a bit. Maybe your teenage self still feels that the grown up Jungkook would once again sputter mean words to you even though high school was a good while back. “Been long.”

"Yeah, you're right. It's so good to see you again, I mean, I never expected," his voice soft, kind. Of all things, this was the most surprising. You tried to forget how shockingly attractive he turned out to be.

"Ditto," You said, unsure of what else to say. You looked down at your shoes, circling one foot around the other. "So how do you know Namjoon?"

"Oh, Hyung and I go way back. He used to tutor me in high school. Maths, geography, literature, you name it. I owe it to him, for making me pass. I heard he was looking for work so I decided to step in."

Oh, so that's why. The pieces were falling in place now. It did feel nice to catch up with an old high school ‘acquaintance’ of sorts, so you kept aside the qualms of your bullying experiences aside.

"Hey, now that you're here, I never got to say that I'm sorry for all the trouble I caused you in high school. I was dumb, stupid really, I mean, dumb and stupid are the same thing, but what I mean is-"

"It's okay, Jungkook. I'm long past it, to be honest. You're forgiven." You manage a small smile, your insides warming with his thoughtfulness. What was even sweet was that he appeared a bit nervous, even though the line seemed rehearsed - it made you think as if he'd been saying this apology to himself so many times as if he would meet you again one day and say it.

Now that the mood was lighter, few more customers began pouring in. You let Jungkook continue with his work even though you wanted to know details about his life now. You resumed reading the book, considered even making this the first purchase in a long time, before Jungkook waddled up to you suggesting that he was free to talk.

"So," Jungkook began slowly, leaning over the wall opposite the bookshelf. “You live here?

“Just a couple of blocks from here. What about you?”

“Oh no, I took the subway here. It’s bit far from my boxing center at home,” he smiles, bowing at new customers who already seemed to know what to look for. You noticed when he smiled that the one thing that didn’t change about Jungkook was his doe eyes. God, they were so misleading to anyone else who didn’t know him well.

And wow, that explained the muscles. Jeon Jungkook having his own boxing center? You pegged Jungkook as being unemployed after high school because if you recall correctly, his grades were dismal. But you can’t judge a book by its cover, right?

“Wow, boxing center huh? How’s that going?” You kind of feigned interest, nodding your head more than usual whereas you just wanted to read.

“Great actually. I took business in college, and it really got me thinking. So, I pulled some strings and opened a center, that way I could practice and so can everyone else. It’s going pretty good,” he nodded satisfyingly.

You give him a sad smile. He was doing something he liked. You were too, but not exactly.

“So, do you still write poetry?” He asks, knowing he’d been talking too much about himself.

Ah, that was your sour spot. Your true passion. Writing poetry. Those years in high school you realized nothing gave you true happiness than what the joy of words did. You never wanted to make a career out of anything if it didn’t happen to include writing. However, prospects in becoming a writer were perilously low and by the time you finished your first year in college, you realized you had a take different direction if you wanted to lead a financially stable life to pay off your loans.

“Oh, that.” You shrugged, another one of your defense mechanisms. Jungkook’s eyebrow lifted questioningly. You weren’t one to call poetry as ‘that’.

“Well, I learnt poetry can get you far enough as someone with a dying YouTube career, sadly as it is. It's a beautiful profession, but I needed to make ends meet. So currently I'm working as assistant marketing manager at this company an hour away.” You tried to seem as content as possible.

“How is it?” Jungkook now had to go and take to some customers but he was still listening to you.

“It's great!”

It's fucking tedious. Sometimes I want to scream, tear some papers and run around like a maniac.  

“I love my boss and my teammates.”

My boss is a sexist, misogynistic prick and my teammates love to kiss his ass.

“There are days when I don't even think about poetry.”

I think about it every single second that I'm at work. I can’t even write cause I’m so packed with stuff to do.

Jungkook laughs as he aligns some books in the correct angles. "You were a good student in high school. With those grades, getting that job must have been piece of cake for you. Although, it must suck not to write because of your work.”

You’re telling me.

The book you were previously reading wasn’t that interesting as you thought. You moved over to the Poetry section, skimming your fingers over the covers of books. You saw a familiar title and took it out. It was the same book of poems that your school had given as part of your Literature syllabus. This book made you fall in love with words and what they mean. You looked inside and to your relief, it had all the poems of love, tragedy and loss that you came to love when you studied them meticulously when you were still a student.

Your favourite poems were I Dream of You by Christina Rossetti and Rooms by Charlotte Mew. You longed for a romance like the ones they described in stanzas, but only seldom in your life did you come across someone who shared the love of sappy poetry like you did.

“Rooms, huh? I love that poem,” Your head sharply whipped towards Jungkook’s direction, who was now curiously studying the book you had in hand.

Jungkook, liking poetry? The same lad who made fun of all the writers for being over-dramatic over love, was now saying he liked poetry?

“Surprising, I know. But like, if anyone found out the guy on the football team shared a secret love for prose and poetry, I would’ve been thrown out,” He shrugs lightly. You understood, your school solely ran on conservative values of toxic masculinity and favouritism. You managed to survive all of that, thankfully.

You and Jungkook then engaged in a discussion on the best poems and writing you guys read, surprised at his wide knowledge and the opinions he had to share. You agreed on many, disagreed with a few. But one thing you realized was that maybe meeting Jungkook wasn’t such a bad thing at all, you guys could finally be friends.

You decided to buy your book of poems. You haven’t seen this book in ages and it would be nice to add to your collection anyway.

As you handed over the book to Jungkook to check out, your hands touched only slightly. Jungkook gave you a small, shy smile, and you returned it. Right before he was going to give you the bill, his hands awkwardly hovered over the register for a moment.

“Wait,” he quickly remembered. “I have to put a stamp inside of this. It’s a way of checking what books are purchased. Work regulations. Give me a sec?”

You nodded and he disappeared into the store room for a good 10 minutes. You waited as you looked around the store for the nth time and wondering when you’d be back again. Jungkook suddenly returned, looking a little sweaty even though the air-conditioner was still on. He wiped his sweat using a towel next to the register and handed over the book to you with both hands.

You smiled at your purchase, tucking it in your bag and respectfully bowing to Jungkook before you decided to make your leave. As soon as you turned your heel towards the door, Jungkook awkwardly extended a hand to you.

“So, what do you say, friends?” His eyes were looking down, to hide his embarrassment. You thought it was cute. You extended your hand too.

“Friends.”

~*~

The sky had enveloped the sun the same way it always did during sundown. You settled comfortably in your duvet, taking out the book inside the paper bag that had the initials F.F. printed in large colourful letters. You placed the book gingerly between your legs as you scanned the hard cover.

You inhaled the pages, the smell settling somewhere in your bones. Then you began reading. It was sunset when you started and then midnight when you got to the middle. You held back a yawn as you decided to call it a day and then get to work from tomorrow. You were putting a bookmark inside the page you stopped at when something like a scrap of paper fell out of the book.

Carefully, you kept your book on the night stand and picked up the fragment and turned it over.

The paper looked as if it were torn from a notebook. What looked like a poem was written in the childish scrawl of a 10-year old, but it didn’t seem reasonable that a child would write something with such thought and maturity.

  Thousands of libraries will never exhaust

How you wander in the loveliest recesses of my thoughts,

An angel fallen from heaven,

Am I merely just a spectre in your presence?

Your fingers possess secrets in every page that you write

But how would it feel my dear,

if the hands that touched your skin, were I?

Books may command your attention

But I mean no harm,

But beyond the classroom walls, here is my confession

That it fatigues me that to remain a boy who will love you from afar.

  You stared at the paper for a while.

The poem was no doubt very beautiful, suggestive even. Unrequited love always made the best poems, you knew. You imagined a love-struck young boy penning down this very poem for his classmate in the back of his Algebra book, thinking it would never be seen by anyone else except him. What you loved most was that in each verse, the writer made his best effort to form an analogy between his lover’s passion for books and his passion for her. And to top it all, you and this girl shared your love for books.

But how did such a sensitive piece of writing wind up in your poetry book?

The paper didn’t match the quality of the paper of your recent buy, obviously. Namjoon was also not one to keep second-hand or used books in his store either. Was someone else reading the book and somehow slipped this inside? But the writing seemed very personal and it would be irresponsible for someone to misplace something like this.

You shrugged it off later, safely keeping the piece in one of your night stand drawers. Just when you were about to place your treasured book of poems in your book case, rose petals from the book fell to the floor.

Gasping, you picked the bunch in your hands, the petals bearing an angry crimson shade. Roses were your favourite flower, so you couldn’t but smell the petals that lay within your reach.

But if anything, it only multiplied the questions in your head as to how, when and why both the love poem and the petals were in the book in the first place.

~*~

You forgot about the poem and the rose petals until you found yourself going back to Fact and Fiction the next week.  Surprisingly, work load was less but you didn’t want to be one to ask why.

It was a sunny afternoon. You got the news that a sequel to one of your favourite series released few days ago. You were sure that Namjoon would keep a neat pile of the sequel somewhere in his bookstore.

Jungkook was already at the register handing a customer his receipt when he noticed you entering through the glass door. He gave a small wave as you scuttered to the New Arrival’s section. Anxiously, you browsed through the section until you finally saw the familiar title.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you muttered, the pads of your fingertips feeling the glossy hardcover. You had only turned to the front page when a dark-haired someone appeared by your side.

“Seriously, The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes? Heard it didn’t get good reviews,” Jungkook smirks at you.

“Didn’t get good reviews my ass,” you mock him, going back to reading. The boy shakes his head and lets you read as he helps a customer find a certain book. More customers started to pour in, and soon Jungkook is up and running across the store every five minutes. You felt sorry for him, but then you realised with all his working out, running across a five thousand feet store was practically nothing.

It was just you in the store when it was evening. Jungkook leaned on the wall, resting his head on the counter in respite. You smiled dejectedly at him, wanting to say something to light the mood.

“So, how is Taehyung and Jimin? We couldn’t really catch up properly,” you said, sitting on one of the tools.

Jungkook sighed, almost happy that he could have one conversation today that wasn’t about foraging book titles of books ceased producing copies anymore.

“Jimin is good,” he said, wiping his sweat with the back of his hand. “He’s working at this law firm in Australia. Taehyung is pursuing his Master’s in Europe, something in cultural studies.’

“Wow,” the jealously in your voice was slightly apparent. You did work at a well-known company, but still, working abroad was a different league altogether.

“Gosh, can you believe how messed up we three were? Always fooling around, teachers said we wouldn’t amount to anything,” Jungkook reminisced, leaning his elbows on the counter now.

“I remember,” you laughed. “Especially when Taehyung pranked Mr. Choi with that whoopie cushion and Mrs. Kang when you drew her face on the board one day.”

“I think even Mrs. Kang laughed at that drawing herself, it was pretty impressive,” he smirks, lips breaking into a cocky grin. “

“And I think everyone remembers how you made Hae-ri cry in front of the whole class when you broke up with her,” you chucked, remembering the incident. Hae-ri and Jungkook sort of were going out in the middle of eleventh grade, but you always heard rumours how Jungkook was just playing around, like boys always did.

“Come on, Hae-ri and I were a joke. Can’t help it if she took us seriously,” Jungkook rolled his eyes. He clearly wasn’t interested in her as much as she was. As much as the others girl were really, even though to you he was what you always thought he was – a stupid, mean and lanky adolescent. “To think of it, I couldn’t help if I was a bit popular.”

“Oh, you were the cynosure of all eyes, Kook,” you smiled, looking down. It was true. Jungkook always carried an aura of confidence was that infectious. The kind of charm that made heads turn when he walked in the room, the type of startling charisma that was unnatural of a fifteen-year-old.

“Everyone’s eyes except yours,” he emphasised, crossing his arms over another.

“I mean, you hated me. We hated each other,” You state matter-of-factly, as you got up from the stool to the counter to make your purchase. “I can’t believe I even tried to be nice with you.”

Jungkook faced you with an expression on his face you couldn’t decipher. “I didn't hate you, not completely.”

That was news. You always thought Jungkook and his little gang were out to torture every weakling in school. Jungkook especially liked to torture you, so it would be an understatement to say you were a bit surprised.

“Which part of your icky teenage self,” you jabbed a finger in his shoulder playfully. “-even tolerated me?”

“The part that tolerated you thought you were special. And you still are, Y/N. Special.”  He repeated.

There was a twinkle in his eyes when he spoke that you didn’t miss. Your heart felt like it was floating, warmed by the how Jungkook meant every word he said about you. Your stomach did this thing where it felt like a million bees were swarming around when you felt shy. A blast of warmth shot up your arms. The feeling lingered even when you pushed The Ballad of Songbirds and Snakes in his direction.

Jungkook’s smirk didn’t wipe off his face after you had given your payment. The silence seemed unusual, did you just share an intimate, if brief, moment with your high school foe? Why had he called you special? You never stood out even when you were classmates, so why was he saying this now?

“I’ll go stamp this, yeah?” he cuts the silence. You nod, and he vanishes into the storeroom again. He comes back five minutes later this time and hands you the paper bag. You take your leave and silently leave the store.

What you don’t see is Jungkook’s gaze following you intently as you pull the door, walk across the street from the store and disappear into the night.

~*~

You returned home, your laptop greeting you with tons of messages from work. You cursed each of them, especially the one from your boss asking you to revise last week’s updates even though you emailed in a bunch of times saying you did. You pulled an all-nighter as you completed the tasks expected of you. By the time you were done, it was already two-thirty in the night.

You flopped on your bed, your body relaxing as it hit the soft covers. You breathed a sigh of relief as you pulled out your purchase from the paper bag.

You suddenly remembered the poem and the petals. You decided it would be weird, but you turned the book over as if you were expecting the same contents to pool from it. And sure enough, you were right.

Not one, but two pieces of notebook scraps settled onto your lap with some blue coloured rose petals. Your mind did a mental ‘what the fuck?’ before picking up the petals and placing them on your night stand. You picked the scraps and read them, never expecting what you would find.

 Help me, for I am surrounded by loquacious ghosts

Yet you stand there, a beauty in flesh and bone

Women would die for me,

yet my mind echoes only your name

Break me from my reverie,

To kiss you in the blue sweater that hugs your delicate frame

You eye me with pure hate, yet is I to blame

I treat you wrongly,

But only to hide my love for you – if you push me away.

 You read the second one now.

 Blue,

It is the colour of the sweater you wear every first Monday of the month

The pencil you write poems at the top of your chemistry notebook,

The rain as it brushes against your skin when you're late to class

The look on your face when you're happy

The sound of my heart when you walk past my seat at the cafeteria table

The smile you wear when your friends hook their arms around yours

And my love for you that will never be requited.

 Cold sweat broke out on your spine. This wasn't some love poem that was mistakenly placed in your book. It felt like the poems were directed at you. Even the first poem made you feel slightly suspicious because you had a resemblance to the girl mentioned in it.

You tried to knit all three poems together, because all those years in poetry class made you an expert at analysing. You found a connection. They were written by someone in high school.

The love for books, the pencil, the sweater, the behaviour traits, all reminded you of your teenage self from years ago. It was so intricate, as if this person had been observing you through a lens in class for years.

It was someone that you hated and he hated you too, but then again, you hated a lot of people in high school, and they too, you felt, disliked you. You had few friends, however good ones, all of which whom you remained in contact today.

Who could this person be? He definitely had outstanding poetry skills, the words worming its way into your heart ever since you had the first poem. You felt shy. Someone, in your class, liked you behind a mask of hatred. Your body contracted as you concluded that you had a mystery writer sending you messages with every book you bought. You wondered why you were living in the dark for a long time.

How had this not happened earlier? Why was it that before buying the book, it didn’t seem to have any individual contents in it, but after taking it home, it did?

You wanted more answers. You wanted to write back, but whom would you be writing to? You didn't know this person or his address. You realised that this was a one-way connection. You could only build your assumption if you had more poems to build them on.  

And that could only happen if you happened to go to a certain bookstore couple of blocks from your apartment.

~*~

You went there the next weekend, on a cold Sunday morning. You kept the mystery poet a secret to yourself, although it haunted you for the whole week while you were at work.

As the weeks ensued, work was piling up, but you felt at peace when you were there among the books and Jungkook's company. The weekends went by with Jungkook narrating funny stories of certain customers he encountered, high school memories, work schedules, and of course books.

“No, Dark Places was absolutely not one of Gillian Flynn’s best works,” you commented, one evening.

“But the Satanic vibe was cool, you have to admit,” Jungkook’s voice was lost as he piled books in front of a stand.

Jungkook was a diligent worker for a newbie; he polished the shelves and smoothened out dog-eared books. He always checked the register and counted the cash, aligned the books the correct way, made note of what books were available and those which needed immediate restocking. He lost his callous attitude of high school years, but you berated yourself for always comparing his high school habits to the Jungkook now.

You rolled your eyes. “Have you read Karin Slaughter’s books though?”

You could feel his smirk from behind the stack of books. “Pretty Girls.”

“The Good Daughter.” You argued.

“Pretty Girls was grislier. I like.” God, you wanted to lunge a book at this guy. Everything gory or Satanic amused him, it seemed.

Jungkook was funnier than you imagined with the comedic antics he sometimes pulled off, by failing at twirling a book in his hands to accidentally hitting his head on the storeroom door behind the register. He sometimes flirted here and there, which was mostly harmless. But you couldn’t forget that time in the store when he called you special. The look he gave, the sincerity behind it, how genuine it felt.

You kept buying books and of course the love letters kept emerging along with the roses. You still had no idea who this person was, but as time went by, you kept falling more and more in love. You kept the petals in your journal. They did dry off, but you kept them regardless. You always kept the poems in your drawer, neatly piled into one corner. Sometimes, you pressed them close to your chest as if the words would somehow leap up from the page, dissolve into your rib cages and settle near your heart.

But one stormy morning that you were at the bookstore, you were weighed down by how work was progressing. The company had faced some setbacks, so you were responsible for getting the hearing from your boss. You tried to mask your sadness until you see Jungkook doing something suspicious near the centre of the room.

There was a small stand, where usually books were heaped into a mountain of paperbacks. It looked as if the boy was trying to pile the books in a house of cards fashion. The experiment was bound to fail, and Jungkook was lucky Namjoon was never here on weekends to see what was about to be happen.

But you help him instead.

“Do you like working here, Kook?” you tried to sound nonchalant. You hand him two books at a time, while he dexterously stabilised a book on top of another.

“I do,” he replies. “It’s relaxing. Especially when I’m not sweaty and working out all the time. Why?”

“It’s just, I hate my work environment you know, and I miss writing– “

Jungkook eyes you worriedly as he stops midway through the activity. You don’t notice and hand him some books anyway, but they fall right at the edge of the pile and the whole stack falls down on both of you like dominoes.

Jungkook falls back first on the ground, catching you as you fall on his stomach. Your faces are inches away from each other, but you rest your head on his chest, tears stinging the corners of your eyes.

“Oh my god, I’m so sorry! See? I’m such a mess. I can’t do anything right, I’m a failure, I’m-“

Jungkook rests his hand on your back and the other hand gently stroking your forehead. You picked up on his hesitance, as if he was asking your body to relax as a signal that he was comforting you. You did relax, you felt as ease. The weeks when you were around him, you never felt comfortable with anyone in your life. Let alone the fact that he was attractive, erm, cute – but he was probably one of the best people you knew.

“Shut up okay? You're amazing. Those assholes at work don't know how talented you are. You're amazing.” Jungkook whispered, rubbing your back in small circles. “I…I sometimes don’t like working at my centre either. The toxic masculinity over there makes me want to puke. I hate the environment, and sometimes I think I’m the one who sparked it.

He wraps both arms round you now, and you're reminded again literally, that being surrounded by books and Jungkook was what led you to Fact and Fiction every weekend. You two lie there for a good ten seconds, before you realised that a customer may walk in any moment. There was also the mess to sort out.  

You help Jungkook up, wiping your tears with the back of your hand.

“I can’t really see you cry, I start crying too,” Jungkook jokes, as he hands you a tissue from the tissue box. Always so concerned, you took note. “Is there something that keeps you happy apart from books? Y-you could try and do that?”

"Actually,” you sniff. “There is something that keeps me happy these days. Someone keeps writing me love letters."

There, your secret finally revealed. Jungkook gaped you, as if he didn’t believe it. Honestly, you didn’t either until you made the connection yourself.

He proceeded to ask you details of the discovery, and was shocked himself when you told him of how you thought the person could be someone from high school. It really got him thinking. He named each classmate you’ve ever had an interaction with, but you couldn’t picture any of them having any interest in you.

How did your mystery writer/(lover?) know so much about you? Little details, little quirks. Was he a stalker? But how did he know exactly which books you bought and when?

"Well, maybe you should write something of your own too. Maybe like, in response to how you feel when you read his poems.” The boy suggested, picking the books from the floor, dusting them before putting it in a box next to him.

You mirrored his actions. You pondered over the thought for a while though. Writing to him would be a way to practice your writing that you thought you lost. It was a great idea; you were doing it for yourself. And then if you ever meet this mystery guy, you would show him too.

“Wait, before you leave,” the doe-eyed boy stops your tracks. The books were successfully placed in the box, and you were helping him put it in the sore room when he asks you to wait.

Jungkook walks you toward the end of the room. He picks out a book and shows you the cover. It’s a limited-edition copy of one of your favourite authors of all time, and signed. You wondered what it was doing at the back, when it should be out in front.

“I saved this copy, just for you,” Jungkook’s cheeks blushed a tinge of pink. “I remembered how much you liked his work in school. And I’m willing to give this to you, half the price.”

You ran and hugged Jungkook the tightest hug you had ever given someone in years. He laughed, returning the hug. You felt like the luckiest girl, customer, (whatever!) and you almost felt bad because you had gotten something exclusive for a discount because you knew the employee, anyone else would have paid fortunes for this. You thought about declining, but Jungkook really insisted.

“Don’t think about refusing. I’ll go stamp this before you make your payment,” he says before you could protest.

Really, where had Jungkook been all this time? So much kindness, this boy was brimming with endless love that you thought you didn’t deserve. After a while, he comes out and you hand him the cash.  

As you say your goodbyes and make your leave, Jungkook says “And please don’t cry, wouldn’t want to taint that pretty face, right?”

Something stirred in your heart. You had just started seeing Jungkook as a man, was it now that he started seeing you as a woman? A blush creeps up your neck as you contemplate the thought all the way home.

~*~

You carefully keep the purchase on your bed. Taking out the scraps of love poems from your drawer, you needed to look at your muse before you started writing on your own.

You stretched your hands, pen in hand, ready to recreate wonders when it hit the paper. But you were blank. It’s like your mind had wired out all the imaginations you had kept stored for the last couple of years. You fell flat on your desk, exhaustion over coming you. Had you really lost your touch? Your parents, teachers and friends always praised you for your writing skills, have you let them down? But you weren’t really going to quit this easily.

You looked at your purchase. There must be another poem hidden inside. As if controlled by an entity, you opened the book, flipped the leaves and saw the very page sitting in between the middle pages. You removed the pink rose petals too, your guy never seemed to forget adding them in. You turned the scrap over.

 Today I heard your laugh

Setting my heart in a frenzied trance

The purest sound even the sweetest nightingale could not match

Like fireflies bouncing against thin glass

The most beautiful treasure, I can never have.

 Your eyes watered. It was a poem tinier from the rest, but this one struck something within you. “Like fireflies bouncing against thin glass”, the words feeling sweeter every time you repeated them. You couldn’t believe someone, who was so far from you, could love you this vehemently.

Suddenly, you had found your strength. You were going to write. You were doing this for him. For you.

You picked up the pen and the words just came to you. It was a struggle, but it was a start, you console yourself. You never imagined you would be writing a love letter to someone you had never seen, touched and spoke to, but you didn’t care. Your hands worked away, filling the page in front of you.

But your mind echoed the same mantra over, and over again: I am doing this for us. I am doing this for us. I am doing this for us.

~*~

It's three weeks later that you decide to do an experiment. It's been quite a while since you've been to the store, and the poems stopped coming as well. Work was driving you crazy. You knew sometime in this week you had to drop by the bookstore, so you decided to see if your mystery lover came on the weekdays.

Another employee whom you didn’t know personally and Namjoon were there. Jungkook, of course, was nowhere in sight like you guessed. Namjoon gives you a wave from the register as he speaks to a customer. You knew that you already had too many books, but today was crucial if you wanted to see if your experiment worked out. You could also return the book after you bought it, granted you brought it in after fifteen days. You could buy a book for someone else; your mystery man would never know you were buying it for yourself. Yeah, that’s what you decided do.

You picked up a random title from the shelf and made your way to the counter. The store was mostly empty, except one or two customers. Everybody was busy on a weekday.

As you made your payment, you noticed Namjoon stamping the inside of the book before handing it over to you. The counter was designed in a way so that a person standing a normal distance away couldn’t see what was inside of it. So naturally, your eyes furrowed in confusion.

“Don’t you have to go inside and stamp?” You asked, wondering if Namjoon made the wrong stamp. Even the brightest minds can forget.

“What do you mean? Namjoon looked at as if you had said the most ridiculous thing ever.

"Like whenever Jungkook checks out a book, he goes into the storeroom and stamps? It’s a rule?" You weren’t being sure of what you were saying right now. You sounded like a poor student explaining the concept of rocket physics to a professor.

"Oh, I don't know why he does that, since there's already a stamp here." He holds up a plastic rubber stamp like someone would hold an antique. "And I mean, you could do that, since there are few spare ones in the storeroom, but that’s like extra effort you have to put in. I'm not sure why he does that."

You nodded, kind of silent.

"Does he do that to you or for every customer?"

You realise you never even noticed this. Usually when the store had customers, you were engrossed in reading or looking at books. You never even wondered if Jungkook went to the storeroom to stamp all the books that were purchased. The bookstore would be very crowded during weekends, and the time taken for Jungkook to go and come back usually takes five or ten minutes. Surely, he would’ve taken one of the stamps to the counter itself cause the journey would be too tiring. But you didn’t know for sure what he did for other customers. You slapped yourself in your head for being so ignorant.

You left the store with an uncertainty heavy on your chest.

You return home. Billions of questions bounced from one corner of your mind to another in an intense ping-pong battle. What was worse, when you looked inside the book you bought, there was no poem. No rose petals either.

Could it be that Jungkook knew your mystery guy? Was he the one slipping in the poems when you made your purchase? Did your guy come in the middle of the week and hand Jungkook his writing and leave it up to him to do the favour? Is that why there were no poems or roses today, cause Jungkook wasn’t at work?

You didn’t know. All you knew was that the best way to handle your doubts was to confront Jungkook.

You noticed that you needed to buy groceries for the night. You just had take-out for three days in a row and now the thought of Chinese food made you feel icky. You hit yourself on the head for not buying groceries earlier after you were at at the store. You took your purse and made it in time at the grocery before closing.

Once you were done, you stepped out with your heavy paper bag and saw it was pouring heavily. Pedestrians were already waiting outside the store, hoping the rain would subside soon. Nobody suspected today that it would rain and neither did you.

“Fuck,” you muttered, you didn’t bring an umbrella. The bookstore was just across the grocery. It had a bigger shade, enough to cover seven people from the rain. You silently thanked Namjoon’s choice of constructing the store as you launched yourself across the street.

Jungkook was standing under the shed, looking for something in his bag. You didn’t notice he was there until he called your name.

“Y/N!” his eyes lit up. Desperate, your eyes searched his hands. He was carrying an umbrella. You breathed easier.

“Oh hey,” you say, the rain making it hard for you to be audible. Raindrops pounded against the shed like fists banging a door. “I thought you didn’t work on weekdays?”

“I don’t,” he said. “I was meeting someone here for work.” You nodded, wondering how would bring up the topic of the poems. Maybe you would ask him on Saturday, two days from now. Right at this moment, didn’t seem like the best time.

“Would you mind dropping me off at the subway, though? It’s just near my place,” you knew you sounded desperate, but you needed to get back home. You remembered he had to take the subway to get home too. Jungkook violently nodded his head as he opened his umbrella. You both started walking, shivering slightly at the cold.

"Hey, come closer. Don't want to get your pretty outfit wet," Jungkook huddled you closer to his side, wrapping a hand around your waist for purchase. Your cheeks reddened, maybe at the way the wind whipped your skin or the fact that no one's ever been this near you.

As the space between you and Jungkook closed, you looked at the boy who was always so concerned with your well-being. He had been occupying your thoughts lately. Maybe because of his dorky personality or because he was very smouldering in person, but either ways, your experience of crushes told you that this was the beginning of another infatuation. But you, liking your high school classmate? As much you fantasised him from time to time, you had to resist thinking about it. He maybe had a girlfriend, who knew? Someone as wonderful as him deserved one.  

But in this moment, under the incessant rain where both of you trying to turn his upturned umbrella, Jungkook breaking into bouts of laughter as a car splashed water on your clothes, and you complaining of your matted hair – you felt so happy. The puzzle of the poems was longer a worry to you. All you wanted was to be happy in the moment, with Jungkook.

“So, are you going to give this mystery guy a chance?” Jungkook's voice strained to speak over the rain. Ah, coming to the point. You had been so sure you wouldn’t bring up the topic, but destiny had other plans.

“How am I supposed to give him a chance when I don't know who he is or how he looks like?” You say, uncomfortable at how wet the hem of your jeans was. You were walking at an uncomfortable speed, trying to avoid the puddles in your path but in vain.

“He surely knew what he had to do to get you swoon over him,” Jungkook laughed, as if he was so sure. He was right though, strangely.

“He does have a way with words,” you agreed. The wind was horrible now, pulling your top over your midriff.   "I'm scared cause maybe the day he'll come up to me, I'll look like trash."

"No, you never look like trash. You look pretty in whatever you wear, Y/N." Jungkook scoffed. You blushed again. God, why was it so hard not to blush in front of him? “But you do know what's coming.

“What is?” Honestly your mind had been occupied so much about work, and your anonymous lover than you had no time to think the next Jungkook wanted to say.

“Valentine's Day.”

As soon as you heard it, something in you jolted. Two days from now was Valentine’s Day.

"Do you think he might make his appearance that day?" you asked, your voice high as a sparrow’s chirp. Jungkook offered to hold your grocery bag in return for holding his umbrella. You obliged.

"Can't really say that, but would it make your day if he did?" he continued.

“Oh my god, yes,” you stressed on the word, even slightly a little bit anxious because you wouldn’t know what you did if he came out of nowhere.

“Does someone have butterflies in their stomach now?”

"Stop it.” You nudged an elbow at him. You have no idea what he does to me."

"I do know." He holds his gaze longer this time. The rain finally subdued. You saw something in Jungkook's eyes then, you're not sure what – sadness, hope, expectation? But whatever it was, you felt something reverberate in your ribs long after he tears his gaze away.

"I think this is where we part." You say, brushing the hair from your eyes. You were still holding his umbrella, waiting for the right moment to give it to him.

Jungkook suddenly takes your free hand and squeezes it in his own. "Whatever you do, Y/N, please give that guy a chance. He does seem to really like you." He tucked a hair beside your ear, you shuddered a bit at the cold touch.

Why was Jungkook being so persistent about it? Why was he so serious when it came to you and your mystery lover? Whatever the deal was, Jungkook's expression didn't waver. He was right too, and that strengthened your resolve to accept this stranger no matter who he was. You nodded, which made Jungkook only happier.

"I wish I can see him." You sighed, wondering if Jungkook was thinking what you were thinking.

"Y/N," Jungkook leaned over to whisper in your ear. "Maybe you just need to keep looking around you, because he could be so near to you, but you just don't know it yet."

You still don't understand what the raven-haired stunner meant by his words when he hands you the groceries, leaves without his umbrella and descends the subway stairs.

~*~

It was Saturday. Valentine’s Day.

Jungkook woke up in his one-bedroom apartment, a little shaky. Today was the day.

As he reached over to pick up the backpack he took to work, he unzipped the tiny front pocket. Scraps of paper fell out from the seams, like snowflakes on a wintry morning. The twenty-three-year-old looked at each piece, running his fingers over the love poems his high school-self had written to you. If Jungkook had told his angsty teenage self that someday the poems he had written at the top of his history notebook would be read by you, he would have never believed himself.

Jungkook always liked you.

It wasn’t love at first sight, heck, he didn’t believe in that. He didn’t mind you at first, but he realised what made you so special than the rest. You were strong, maybe not in the vocal way, but in the way you saw the world around you. When the teacher complimented how well you would write your answers, you evocative your poetry was – Jungkook could never imagine how a shy girl, her nose so lost in a book at the corner of class would do that.

So when Jungkook read your answers one day, or when he would sneak a glance at your writing, he felt insecure. The real reason why Jungkook always teased you was that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t write as well you did, put his mind to something that you did so well, to be so intelligent, strong and soft. From you, he understood that strength doesn’t equate to being aggressive, or overly vocal. It can be in the way you can showed kindness as well.

So that’s why started pestering you, to hide his own feelings he could never reveal to anyone.

Jungkook never forgot how even after he teased you repeatedly in class, you would always give him an extra pencil when he wanted one, or a reassuring smile when he was anxious before a test. That was the only limit of his interactions with you, but it was more than enough.

He quickly took notice of you in the most subtle ways. The pencil you wrote with, the way your hair was styled one morning, that blue sweater that was apparently your favourite. How you passed by his seat at the cafeteria every morning to sit with your friends. How opinionated you were about certain authors and their writing styles. Even when Jungkook had to put up his ‘popular boy’ persona, sometimes he would tune out all the meaningless conversations he had just to hear how soft your laugh sounded when your friends showed you something funny.

You quickly became his muse. Jungkook was good at physical activities. He was popular, everyone had expectations from him to go on to college with a football scholarship. Everyone looked up to Jungkook cause made himself look like an idol. But in reality, Jungkook had nothing to show except for a fleeting charisma.  Jungkook was good at physical activities, but not at words.

But you made him fall in love with words. Like everyone else, he was at first impatient at why poets and writers took so long to get to the point. But he learnt from you that art was patience. Love was patience.

He struggled, for weeks, months, trying to get the right words out of him. How he felt for you, how you made him feel. He now realised how hard it was express your feelings in few words. But with some practice, Jungkook eventually got there. He had begun to read more, surprising his parents too, but he eventually loved the activity. It calmed him. Soothed his nerves. Staying up late at night just reading, Jungkook noticed his English answers were improving. When he received the final grade, it wasn’t great. But he was satisfied. His whole gang slapped high-fives with him asking how he cheated his way through the exam successfully. He bit his lower lip, a habit of his, as he shrugged at them in response. The real reason was a pretty girl who always sat in the corner of class.

He kept his proudest pieces of poetry hidden in his bag for so long, secretly thanking you for realising a part of him he never knew existed. He took the bag everywhere with him, serving as his strength. His true, strength.  Not the kind that had him running 20 laps around school and bench press 30 kilos to impress his coach.

He always regarded you as his first love, not Hae-ri, not any of the girls he went out with as a joke. He was sad when he graduated high school, but was too shy to come up and thank you. He regretted not saying anything to you then, knowing life is not one to give second chances.

But when Jungkook saw you in the bookstore for the first time, part of him thought this was fate. His feelings resurfaced, stronger than ever. He still had the scraps of poetry in his bag in the storeroom, he could just retrieve them and slip them into the book you would purchase. Maybe even some roses Namjoon liked to decorate on the inside.

When you slid your book the counter, Jungkook had deliberated the idea. But he knew that everything happens for a reason, so he decided to do it anyway. You would never know who it was, but at least he could tell you how he felt for you in one way. He kept repeating this as many times as you bought something from the store. He loved your company, he felt like the luckiest man in the world. Never had he felt happier when he was talking to you, getting to know the real you.

So that’s why he wanted to reveal himself to you, behold! I’m the writer behind all those poems!

Valentine’s Day would be the perfect opportunity to do so. He just hoped, wished, that you wouldn’t push him away. Or, be disappointed. That was Jungkook’s fear that kept him wide awake at night. Could you have been hoping for someone else? Did you not look at Jungkook the way he looked at you?

He would only know today. He was bracing himself, when he got changed, when he showered, when he raced to the subway and made it sharp at ten am.

Namjoon was already there, smiling at the young boy wondering why his cheeks were so red. Jungkook’s heart never beat that fast. His heart felt like it would be sliced open by a hundred bullets. He quickly put on his apron and pretended to be busy arranging the books on the middle shelves in proper order. It was already an hour when he heard the door open.

Jungkook’s feet almost leapt up when he saw you coming inside. He waved, a bit too much he thought, and took few seconds to gather himself together. He was ready to approach you any moment now. He would take your hands, press them against his chest and say: “Its me, Y/N. I’m the anonymous writer you’re looking for.”

Jungkook edged himself forward. All this time he’d been waiting for this.

Until he sees Namjoon walking up to you first.

~*~

“Y/N,” Namjoon approaches you. You didn’t expect him to be talk to you, since he was always so busy on weekends. He cleared his throat. “I just wanted to say…that you look pretty today.”

“What?” you laugh, nervously. Namjoon calling you pretty? All of a sudden? You never even thought he even looked at you beyond a friend. Yes, he was very good looking, Jungkook must have talked about you to him, hadn’t he? The former always complimented on your appearance, making you smile inwardly. 

“Gosh,” he chuckles in return. “Your laugh really does sound like fireflies bouncing against thin glass.”

You blink twice, hand going right up to your mouth. Namjoon. Wait, Namjoon? So, it had been him all this time? Yes, it all made sense! Only someone as charming, educated and well-mannered as Namjoon fit in all the right pieces of the mystery man you pictured. No wonder the poems had a very loving touch, it was written by someone like him. But how he had he known so much about you? Was it Jungkook who told him all those teeny, insignificant details that you were made of? 

At that moment, you didn't care. All you knew was that Kim Namjoon noticed you. He had noticed you.

You smile at him.

You looked over your shoulder, Jungkook’s face turning to a shade of grey. His seemed frozen in position. You wondered why. You just wanted to jump up and shake him and scream into his face: Jungkook! Namjoon is the one! He’s been the one writing to me!

“I've been meaning to ask, would you like to go out to coffee with me today? It is Valentine’s Day,” he scratches the back of his neck. You take his hands in yours. You nod willingly. You were too excited that all you had was time to point at Namjoon to Jungkook when Namjoon had his back turned to remove his apron.

Jungkook got the message you tried to tell him. He only smiled, but you wondered why it didn’t quite reach his eyes.

~*~

The café shop that you and Namjoon decided on was already swarming with customers, couples mostly. You guys decided to sit outside, a table for two. You were so excited, you were ready to bombard Namjoon with a series of questions, hoping it would give you the insight it needed. You both ordered two lattes and brownies with ice-cream topping.

“I can’t believe you readily agreed to go out with me,” the man before you shrugs modestly. “I mean, I could pass on as your elder brother, right?”

“Um, no, I was so happy that you asked, I…I never imagined, really. I’m really happy you did,” you stuttered, reaching out your arms to touch his. He appreciated the compliment.

“That’s so sweet, Y/N,” Namjoon smiled again, resting the palm of his hand on his cheek, giving you a longing gaze.

“Sweet, just like the poems you wrote for me,” you giggled, waiting to hear just what he would say. You almost choked on the next words.  

“The what?” He blinked. Immediately, you knew you looked stupid. You tried to find your words.

“I said, just the like the poems you wrote for me.”

“I never wrote poems for you, heck, I can't even write poetry, Y/N.” Namjoon sipped on his latte that arrived. Your knees turned rubbery. He was joking right? You continued to insist, but Namjoon just shook his head firmly. 

“I'm serious, I never wrote anything for anyone. Ask all my exes.” He was looking at your curiously now. You did too. Your hands were getting sweaty with nervousness.

“Then why did you say that my laugh sounded like fireflies tinkling against glass?” Exactly your question.

“Cause, I heard Jungkook saying it was.”

Your heart again did a little flip at his name. He was talking about you to Namjoon. But Jungkook was narrating the same line from the last poem you received, how is that possible, granted if he didn’t know the content? Or if, someone had given him the poem in the first place and he just happened to see it? A streak of anger went up your body when you thought of Jungkook intruding on your privacy.

“If...if, you didn't write these poems, then who did?” You searched your bag, taking out the poems that you kept in your wallet. You laid them out, one by one, on the table. There were many of them, but Namjoon scrutinised each piece closely. His eyes darted from one end to another, eyebrows furrowed in confusion suggesting he was in deep thought. Namjoon squinted at the scribbly, childish scrawls on the scraps and suddenly his brain clicked.

“This seems a lot like the poems Jungkook showed me, you know.”

You looked up shocked, your heart feeling like it was dropped from a height. Jungkook writes poems? You knew he read often; you didn’t know he wrote too. Did he have the time to? When did he start writing? All these questions made your head feel like it was stuffed with cotton.

Namjoon noticed your silence. “I know,” he laughs. “Seems weird right? He doesn’t seem like it, but that boy does have some talent in the writing department. He says it calms him somehow.”

“Do you keep roses in the store room, Namjoon?” You said, not looking at him. Your voice almost sounded robotic.

“I do, to brighten up the space there. Although I realised on the days you would come, there would always be one rose less the last time I counted them.”

Do you think...?

Suddenly, your brain had connected the dots. You shouldn't have judged Namjoon so quickly. All the times you remembered, Jungkook mentioned going to the storeroom to stamp the books you purchased. There was actually a stamp right there in the counter, but he never failed to go inside the storeroom instead. Maybe he slipped in the poems and the roses then?

And the handwriting. You remember going through Jungkook's essays in high school when you tried to help him out, even a bit. You remembered how bad his handwriting was.

But Jungkook, writing poems for you? You admit you did feel a soft spot for Jungkook albeit your sour history with him in high school, but soon you realised he's so much more than his shy demeanour. Yes, your assumption on Namjoon being your mystery writer overlooked all the clues, and you wished you thought more thoroughly. Now, because of your impulsive decision-making skills, you landed up in this awkward situation with Namjoon.  

Jungkook was the one writing poems for you. Only he could notice those habits you had possessed in school, he was your classmate for fuck’s sake! All those years that you hated him for being mean to you, he was crushing on you instead? How, why?

But then you understood. You liked Jungkook. Ever since the first poem. He became such a beautiful writer, with all the delicate details he noticed about you. So, there was meaning behind him calling you special. There was meaning when he looked at you for a few seconds longer. There was meaning in his smile, in his actions, in his concern. There was meaning in every little thing he did because he liked you, and still likes you. And you liked him too.

Why had he resisted the ache in his heart to come forward and tell you the truth about who the person behind the poems was?

You put back the poems and muttered several apologies to Namjoon before you fled the scene, your mind rehearsing exactly what to tell Jungkook the first thing you meet him.

~*~

You barged inside the familiar bookstore, the cold air from the air-conditioner hitting you smack in the face. There were no customers, it was Valentine’s Day you remind yourself. Jungkook was busy cleaning up the bar, a solemn look colouring his usually bright face.

He looked a bit startled when he saw you open the door, as if he didn't expect you to enter at this hour.

“Y/N! How was your date?” He faked enthusiasm. You marched up to him and slammed the poems down on the counter.

“You could have told me, you know. The worst I could do was to storm off,” You crossed your arms, this time not as a defence mechanism.

“What are you talking about?” He wasn’t looking at you, he was looking at the poems now. How long was he going to keep up this act?

“Disappearing to stamp my book? The horrible handwriting? The intricate details about how I was in school? Sounds like only someone who knew me, or observed me very well, would know.” You said, tone a bit lighter. “I'm not dumb, Kook.”

There was a slight pause on Jungkook’s end before he speaks. “Took you this long to find out, though.”

You grinned. “You’re a coward.” You leaned forward, slightly kissing him on the lips. He responds, smiling, taking his hand to cup you on the cheek. It’s awkward at first, but his lips were just the right amount of soft and yours. Suddenly, Namjoon, your temporary crush on Changmin, disappear. The moment is magical as you lock both arms around Jungkook’s neck as he kisses you excitedly. Sparks fly between both your bodies.

You break away from the kiss. “You say big words in your poems, yet you can't muster up the courage to confess to the girl you like?”

“I thought…you and Namjoon hyung...” Jungkook’s cheeks are flushed crimson, as he eyes the floor in attempt to hide his evident embarrassment.

“Which wouldn't have happened if you confessed to me earlier.” You rolled your eyes, baffled that he didn’t speak up when he should have. “Do you know how awkward it was, realising you were the one behind the poems and not Namjoon?”

“Oh my god, did you leave him there all alone?” He tried to suppress a small laugh. “So, do you like me now?”

“We just kissed, Jungkook.” You punched him. “But yes, I have liked you ever since I read your poem the first time. And your writing is just…wow.”

“I try,” He did that thing again where he rubbed the back of his neck when he got shy. “Only for the girl I always had a crush on.”

“And you succeeded.” Throwing your hands over his neck again, nuzzling your nose against his, you felt the comfort, the same one whenever you were around Jungkook, slowly making it way from your legs to your arms.

“Valentine's Day is not over yet, shall we go out?” You nodded at Jungkook’s suggestion as you both made your way out the store, no customers projected to come anyway.

Hand in hand, you realised that fairy tales with happy endings did exist. Except for princes, dragons and villains – your story had roses, poetry and Jeon Jungkook, your enigmatic writer in hidden notebook scraps, whom you loved with all your heart.

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[itsjustmyfantasyroom]

Beautiful Mumma part 8.

*Beautiful Mumma*

*Beautiful Mumma part 2*

*Beautiful Mumma part 3*

*Beautiful Mumma part 4*

*Beautiful Mumma part 5*

*Beautiful Mumma part 6*

*Beautiful Mumma part 7*

Warnings: sweet and sexy smut.

WC: 1083

Enjoy x

Nick walked back into the apartment hours after he was meant too. It was your wedding anniversary and although you had both decided not to plan anything because of work, he didn’t know that you had cooked his favourite meal, asked his mum to watch Miguel for the night and had brought a new very sheer lingerie set just for the occasion.

He shrugged off his jacket throwing it over the back of the couch and toeing off his shoes before he walked up the hall way rolling up his sleeves and loosening his tie. As he walked into your shared bedroom, the soft glow of the bedside table lamp filled the room. Nick stopped in his tracks, his eyes blowing open, his heart swelling and dropping at once and his cock twitched behind his zipper.

You were laying on the bed asleep in a white sheer g string body suit, the breasts not as sheer as the rest of it with white lace over them, and a pair of white lace thigh high leggings sitting perfectly up your legs. You looked like an angel and he felt bad knowing that you had planned all this for him and he was late. He quietly walked out, down to the baby’s room seeing the cot empty and Miguel’s over night bag gone. He rushed into the bathroom, quickly showering and coming back out with just a towel around his waist. Nick padded back into the room and he saw you lying there with your eyes open and a small smile on your face,

“Happy Anniversary babe” you sat up off the bed letting your legs bangle over the edge of the bed, your feet hitting the floor,

“Amor, I’ am so sorry- this case”

You stood up off the bed, strutting over to him, your hands going to his chest rubbing over it, and then running them down to the edge of the towel,

“It’s ok” you purred “Mami has the baby till tomorrow night, we have plenty of time to make up for it”

Nick smirked and you saw the arousal settle across his face. You tucked your fingers into the towel and pushed it, the towel dropped off him and pool on the floor at his feet. You grabbed Nick’s hands pulling him to the bed and pushed him slightly to sit down on the edge of it. Nick spread his legs and you stood between them, your eyes scanning down over his golden looking solid body and down to his half hard length.  

You lent down slightly grabbing Nick’s hands, he taking the chance while your chest was close to his face to kiss over your breasts. You brought his hands up rest on your tummy, your hands on top of his guided them all over it and he grinned up at you when you didn’t shy away from him. You guided his hands up to your chest and he gave your breasts a squeeze before you pushed them both down, guiding one down to your thigh to rest at the top of your lace stocking and his other, you guided down between your legs to cup your core.

Nick groaned at feeling your wet seeping through the sheer of the material and you started rock your hips over his hand, his other hand on your thigh gripping you tighter and he lent forward kissing around your tummy,

“So beautiful” he muttered into your body “Happy Anniversary my love”

As you rolled your hips over his hand, Nick hooked a finger into the little gap between the press buttons on the crotch and pulled, one button popping undone and then pulled slightly, the other one popping open and springing up. Your hands went to Nick’s shoulders pushing him down to lay flat on his back. Your hand went to his now fully erect cock, your hand running over him and Nick let out a groan,

“Like that baby?” you cooed.

A growl rattled through Nick’s chest and he nodded his hands grabbing onto the sheet balling them into his fits. You pulled your hand away, in a flash you moved to straddle him, rising up to line him too you and you sunk down on him. Both of you letting out a moan, Nick’s hands went to your hips. Nick started to guide your hips over him, his finger tips pressing into your skin. You took his que and started to move even faster.

Nick let go of your hips and sat up, one hand went to your back pushing you into him more and his other went into your hair, tugging your head to the side, his lips meeting your neck nipping and sucking over it gently. You gripped onto his shoulder and your other going between you both, going straight down to where it was needed to push you over the edge. You started to groan loud and mutter under your breath.

Your nails dug into Nick’s skin, pulling a grunt from him. Your arousal filling every part of your body, your toes curling as you breathlessly moaned Nick’s name. Nick let you ride him through your high and as you came back down, he started to buck up into you, slamming you down by your hips. You saw the sweat forming on his face. You grabbed his head to pushed it into your cleavage.

Nick bucked up hard, his teeth sinking slightly into the side of your breast and with a loud roar of your name, you felt him come deep inside you. Nick gave your chest a breathless kiss and flopped back on his back on the bed. You rolled off of him onto your side and started to scrap your nails over his chest and one of Nick’s went up to cup your cheek, his thumb running along your chin,

“That baby” Nick let out a deep breath “Was amazing. Happy anniversary my love”

“Happy Anniversary baby” you lent down peaking his lips.

“Mami has the baby till tomorrow night?” you nodded back.

A growl rattled through his chest again and you let out a giggle when Nick rolled you onto your back kissing along your jaw and slowly down your body,

“Guess I better start giving you my presents” he muttered into your tummy.

Your mouth dropped open and your hands going into his hair arching your back when you felt his tongue licking up your core,

“Can’t wait”    

Tags: @beccabarba​​ @lovebishoplosamiguelgalindo​​ @alwaysachorusgirl​​​ @ben-c-group-therapy​

#nick amaro #nick amaro x reader #nick amaro x you #nick amaro smut #detective nicolas amaro #nicolas amaro #law and order svu #SVU fanfiction #SVU FANDOM #svu fan #svu x reader