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bitchyglitterfox · 2 years

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Marry Me - Clint Barton x F! Reader Normal Life AU!

This was a one-shot I posted 4 years ago on quotev so if this seems familiar that is why, haha. this is the song that inspired this one shot and the gif has no correlation, I just love Clint so much.

Warning: Friends to lovers, runaway bride, loads of Fluff, tony being tony, everyone is in their late 20s including Tony, I think everything is here

Word: 1.7k

Request: No

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

This was it, today was the big day! I was getting married! Although, not to the man who I thought I was just staring at myself in the mirror imagining Clint being the one that I’m walking down the aisle, but instead it’s Mark Newman.

“Hey (Y/n) how you doing? Not getting cold feet heh” My best friend and Maid of Honor Wanda Maximoff says while having a hand on my shoulder. “I’m sure he’ll be here I mean, he is one of your best friends, and he knows you’ve been dreaming of this day since we were all kids. I mean look at you, you look stunning!” she continues looking me in the eyes through the mirror.

“Thanks, Wanda, I don’t know what I would do without you.” I say smiling gently. Only she knows how much I was and still am in love with Clint.

“Alright well, before I start tearing up due to the fact that my best friend is getting married and due to the fact of how beautiful she looks, I’m going to go and look for Pietro and make sure he doesn’t screw anything up and make sure Stark doesn’t get drunk yet.” She says with a wink as she nears the door.

I go and sit in the chair that is diagonal from the mirror and my mind goes right to the night back in high school when I thought Clint was gonna kiss me.

*Flash Back 10 years earlier*

“You gonna eat those fries?” I say reaching for the fries on Clint’s plate. It was tradition for our little band of misfits to go to this little diner down the street from the high school every Friday and after over to Tony’s house for movie night.

“No, here you go (Y/n/n)” Clint says sliding his plate over to me as I grab one dipping it into my (Flavor) Milkshake.

“That has to be the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen you do (y/n/n)” Loki snorts while finishing his burger. The rest of our group starts laughing along with him.

“Hey don’t knock it till you try it!” I say eating another milkshake-covered fry. I look around at our table glad I got to meet this amazing group of 12.

“Alright well, it’s getting time to go to my house for movie night so, whose turn is it to stay and pay?” He says while pulling out his share of the check.

“Uh that would be (Y/n)” Steve says while doing the same, putting down a ten-dollar bill.

“I’ll stay with (y/n/n) and give her a ride to your place Stark,” Clint says.

“Alright see you guys there!” Tony says while getting up.

Everyone puts their share of the meal on the table and head outside while Clint and I say seated as I continue to eat my fries and drink my shake.

“So….” Clint begins with a blush on his face.

“Fry?” I say looking up at him.

“No, um (y/n), there was actually something, I’ve wanted to do, I’ve wanted to do it for a while now.” He says scratching the back of his neck.

“What is it?” I say smiling at him a blush slowly making its way up to my cheeks.

“Uh just promise you won’t get mad ok?” he says.

“I promise” after I say that Clint closes his eyes and begins leaning in. The blush on my cheeks darkens as I lean into shutting my eyes when HONK. We both jumped apart from each other, looking out the window to see tony.

“Will you two hurry up! We want to watch the movie!” he yells.

We both look at each other, and hurry out of the booth and out to Clint’s car.

*End Of Flashback*

I get pulled out of my thoughts when there’s a knock at the door. “Come on in,” I say staring at the door.

“Hey (y/n)” the voice of the man I wished id be marrying says as he walks in.

“Clint” I breathe “I didn’t think you’d come, you never RSVP’d or got back to me about being in the wedding.”

“Yeah, about that. Honestly, I didn’t think I was gonna come either but Nat convinced me to.” He said while pulling up a chair from the other end of the room.

‘God, he sure does look good in a suit’ I say in my head.

“Well, I’m glad you came. It really means a lot that you came today.”

He smiles gently at me, that damned smile. It could light up an entire city block; it was the same smile that I fell in love with back when we were kids.

“You know, I actually thought it would be you up there at the end of the aisle, I hoped you’d be the one that I was marrying. I thought after that stunt you pulled during junior year in that diner would’ve been the start of my last relationship but you never even tried after that night.” I breathe out, already feeling the tears in my eyes.

“(Y/n) I-“he began but I cut him off.

“No Clint let me finish. I have loved you since the 9th grade and because you never grew the courage to finish what you started in that diner that day, I’m marrying someone today and he isn’t you! Wh-Why, Just Why is it ok for you to give me away to someone else!” the tears are coming down now. I’m sobbing so loud I don’t hear Clint get up, but I do hear when the door slams.

“Hey (Y/n/n), I heard the slam,” Wanda says while she comes in and hands me a tissue. “Here let’s get you all cleaned up.” She grabs a new tissue and begins gently whipping my eyes, trying not to ruin the makeup.

“He hates me and I messed everything up! I yelled at him! He’s never going to forgive me for that and I’m never going to get the chance to tell him I still love him” I say blowing my nose. I’ve always hated crying, when I cry I become a huge gross mess.

“He’s a big boy, he’ll get over it. Now it’s time for you to become Mrs. Barton, I mean Mrs. Newman.” She says trying to cover up her mistake.

“I heard that Wans,” I say giggling. I stand up and look at myself once again in the mirror.

“What can I say, I’ve always liked the thought of you two together,” she says shrugging her shoulders. She comes up from behind me and places the veil on me. I smile at her once again and grab my bouquet and head out the door into my new life.

When I get to the back of the church I’m surrounded by my group of friends since pre-k, everyone gets with their partner. The music starts playing and they all walk to the front of the Altar. My father links his arm through mine and we begin walking down the aisle. I smile at all the familiar faces sat down in this small church ready to watch my father give me away.

‘I can’t do this; I need Clint to be the one at the Altar waiting for me.’ I look around the church looking for him, hoping he gets up and interrupts it before I make the greatest mistake ever and end up regretting it for the rest of my life. My dad kissed my cheek and says he loves me as my soon-to-be husband grabs my hand and we are put in front of the priest.

“I can’t do this” I mumble while looking at my feet. “I can’t”

“What was that Love?” Mark asks me. Oh poor mark, he’s gonna hate me.

I lift my head “I can’t do this. I can’t marry you. I thought I could but I’m in love with someone else!” a few audible gasps can be heard throughout the church but only on his side.

I feel his hands go to my cheeks and he looks me in the eyes “I know, I’ve kind of always known. You need to go to him and tell him how you feel before it’s too late” Mark says while laying a kiss on my forehead. I smile at him.

“Wanda comes on I can’t drive in this thing you have to take me to the one place I know he’s always gone to when he’s upset!” I say while hiking up my dress and running down the aisle.

“Come on guys we have a relationship to save!” Wanda says while hot on my trail.

≿━━━━༺❀༻━━━━≾

One fifteen-minute drive later and I’m back in the diner that started it all. I see Clint in the back of the restaurant, his back facing the entrance.

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” I say with a shy smile.

He looks up at me and shakes his head. I take a seat and we just sit there in awkward silence.

“I uh see you ordered a (Flavor) milkshake,” I say pointing to my favorite flavor shake.

“Yeah, I got it for you; I kind of hoped you show up.”

“Well, I did! Um, are you going to finish those fries” I ask.

He slides them over to me and we begin talking like old times sake, when it gets late he pays for the food and we walk out to his car.

“You know, this reminds me of the pilot episode of Friends.” He says with a laugh.

“Well, then why don’t we go to you-“and before I can finish my thoughts I realize his lips are on mine. When we pull back desperate for air, I continue “You don’t realize how long I’ve waited for that kiss, ten years is a long time.”

“I know, I’m sorry, “ he says while he puts his hands on the sides of my face “I Love you, and I haven’t stopped nor will I ever

“I love you too”

*TIME SKIP 1 year later*

“I now pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss your bride Mr. Barton,” the priest says.

Clint leans in and kisses my lips as my husband. When we pull away and walk back down the aisle I see Mark and his girlfriend and smile at them.

#marvel fanfic writer #marvel #mcu #avengers #marvel cinematic universe #clint x reader #clint barton x reader #clint barton x yn #hawkeye #hawkeye x reader #marvel alternate universe #marvel studios #marvel x reader #bitchyglitterfox writes #Spotify

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neo-octolings · 2 years

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briefish analysis of the storymode levels in the splatoon 3 direct!!!

the first stage we see is this one, which looks like its probably in an octarian kettle, complete with screens imitating the sky and even a baby zapfish (although, it is notably lacking any of callies cute stickers and decals everywhere like in splatoon 2)

the next stage we see is this one, which off the bat seems to have WAY more stickers and graffiti everywhere. it also has sort of a street aesthetic going on, with floating lanterns and food carts, and these structures sinking into the water at the bottom.

eh...? that thing on there is shaped suspiciously squidlike, isnt it? weird, considering the walls still appear to be made of large screens displaying images of the sky, like in octarian kettles. contrastingly though, this stage features one goal things we see in the octo expansion.

next up is this stage, which we only see very briefly, and looks like its in some kind of rock tunnel..? there is actually something interesting in this shot, but ill get to that in a moment.

next is this stage, which we also only see very briefly. to be honest, the only thing i can glean from this shot is that there are two trees on the right?

next up is this stage, which we get a shot of earlier in the direct as well. this stage features a large city, both on the ground and the ceiling? it also seems to fade into the distance like most octo expansion levels, so... is it possible this is where all the deep sea metro residents live? theres also a car floating there. huh

after that is this shot, which has quite a bit to unpack. first of all, this starting area looks similar but not identical to the platform you start octo expansion levels from, complete with the leaping animation. the key difference though is actually the gate, which is much larger, only has doors on one side, and has jets which appear to sanitize the player before entering? it also has several stickers indicating electrical hazards, and some kind of orange notice on the left.

this gate leads into what actually appears to be a boss arena! there are electronics floating around everywhere, as well as error messages? and on all of those electronics is...

this symbol, which actually appears in other places too.

in the platform before the boss arena, its on the orange notice, as well as a notice on the windows. on the windows it appears next to some other symbol, which looks kind of like the fuzzy ink. it also appears on a satellite dish seen on the third stage we see (i told you id get back to that)

this along with some other design factors (walls around stages, graffiti, ect) lead me to believe this probably isnt the deepsea metro, or at least not any part of it weve seen before. the deepsea metro was covered in kamabos logo, while these areas are covered in this company logo... if you have any thoughts, let me know!

and now on to some extras...

we get a clear shot of the design on this lantern, which is pretty cool! at first i thought it might be an eel, which would relate to deep cut, but... looking at it, i think it might actually be a leafy sea dragon, which is pretty clever.

theres also this lantern, but i cant really see it that well. maybe its a catfish/zapfish?

theres also this bit of grafitti, which between these two shots we can get a pretty clear idea of. to me, it almost looks like commander tartar, but maybe thats wishful thinking.

thats all i can think of for now, but let me know if you think i missed anything!

#splatoon #splatoon 3 #splat3 #i dont keep up with anything on twitter or even on tumblr really so if someone else has already pointed any of this out dont yell at me

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aronarchy · 11 months

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[image ID: a screenshot of a Tumblr interaction.

On May 3, someone posted, “[cloud emoji]: [redacted] blinkies <3 anti abuse only plz,” with six blinkies, captioned “all made at blinkie.cafe”

On June 2, critical-collective reblogged the original post. A third person reblogged this reblog, saying, “Many of those you would consider pro-abuse would consider themselves anti-abuse, and I can firmly say that even without knowing your stance. Sorry, but this is literally the same as ‘basic DNI,’ ‘DNI shitheads.’”

critical-collective reblogged from the third person, adding the tags, “#tbh i didnt even see that anti abuse thing when i first rbed #i was just captivated by the rolal blinkie #but rbing for that addition #also important to say that you cant really control who uses the things you post to public domain”

/end image ID]

I’ve been seeing this take more and more often among people I would consider friends/closely acquainted comrades, and I strongly disagree. It’s kind of worrying, actually. I’d wanted to address this earlier, and even started drafting this post weeks ago, but unfortunately stress + ADHD made me unable to actually finish writing it until now.

I remember seeing a similar sentiment around here from this following set of answers to anons. I hadn’t wanted to say anything about those answers at the time, because I was triggered and distressed, and thought it wasn’t really important enough of an issue to make a fuss about. But I think I’ll talk about it now, and I’ll also take this chance to address these in the same post, because they run on similar faulty logics.

[image ID: three asks sent to a person (not through Tumblr) about 1 month ago.

The first ask:

I see that many [[people in a certain community/demographic] think that [thing which is a form of sexual abuse] does not count as real sexual abuse,] but [they see that] others unfortunately [are] being real victims of predators and get sexually abused [(what does count as “real sexual abuse” under their framework)], so although wouldn't it be more logical to be anti-abuse than anti-[term for a set of behaviors which all constitute abuse (we believe we are correct in considering them to be abuse), though the aforementioned individuals believe that only some of them are abuse)]?

answer:

“Anti abuse” sounds like “anti bad things, pro good things” to me.

second ask:

Are you not anti bad things pro good things?

answer:

I try not to define my political positions in ways that describe my attitude more than what I actually want.

third ask:

But some people do think abuse is good, even things they themselves consider “abuse” (with that word).

answer:

Most people I’ve come across agreed with me that abuse is bad. We just defined abuse differently. And that, together with how sensationalized the concept of abuse is and how easily people get aggressive at the slightest implication that they support abuse, makes me not want to use this word as often. There are other ways to say the same thing.

Some portions have been redacted. The text in brackets was edited in by me to clarify context or make things easier to read.

/end image ID]

(I’m aware that this might make the OPs feel attacked. To clarify, I don’t intend this as an attack of some sort, just as a way to air my disagreements and frustrations and possibly provide useful information or arguments. Usually I don’t say anything at all when a friend/close acquaintance says something which I find problematic, because I don’t want to make people mad/upset at me, and feel like nobody would agree anyway. I’m not mad and don’t want any apologies; just bringing up points for consideration.)

It’s very important to me that people do not confuse what “should” be done from what “can” be done. It’s true, for example, that it’s difficult to truly have control over who reuses your designs you post to Tumblr. That doesn’t, however, make it wrong for you to wish for your creations to be reshared in respectful and ethical ways. Is it actually wrong for someone to violate a “do not use this if you are X”? I don’t know; the ethical considerations surrounding boundaries regarding non-direct interactions like these are far more ambiguous and difficult to determine. That doesn’t mean, however, that we should use doomer arguments—the logic of “you can’t enforce this, which is why you should not expect (want) people to respect this” itself can be applied to anything. Including boundaries that are much more obviously obligatory to respect. Leaving this open is dangerous. A similar set of arguments applies to DNIs in general.

And is it wrong for, say, a bigot to interact with a marginalized person who says “people bigoted against my identity DNI”? IMO, yes, but not really because I’d say “all DNIs are always inherently wrong to violate”; it’s because a bigot, with the beliefs they hold, makes those marginalized people unsafe. But the very same DNIs that are (pretty much) most unambiguously unethical to cross are also the ones which are hardest to enforce, because by definition bigots do not care about the boundaries of marginalized people. But, using this to argue against DNIs as a whole misunderstands the reason why many people say “[bigoted group] DNI.” They know that it’s not really enforceable without a block, but it sends a message: that this is what they want, and it indicates what they believe, and that they are likely hostile to bigotry. The same logic applies to abuse apologia.

This is in no way the same as things like “basic DNI criteria” or “DNI shitheads.” “Basic DNI criteria” and “shitheads” are nebulous, basically impossible to define universally, because they can’t be the same among everyone; they're by themselves vague and extremely subjective. But “abuse” is not such a term. Abuse is possible (arguably easy!) to define objectively, and one should expect people to adhere to a single definition of “abuse” (and believe that it exists). Of course most people don't agree on what constitutes “abuse”—and that is a problem, actually! Most people are abuse apologists; that’s not a good thing. Of course most people aren't the type of edgelord that’s unironically supportive of what they personally believe does constitute “abuse.” That doesn’t mean they’re not actually pro-abuse though; it means they’re wrong thinking some abuse isn’t real abuse. But the solution to that is not to cater to their abuse apologia, to coddle them and refuse to tell them the truth for the sake of some liberal ideals of “tolerance” for a “diversity of opinions.” Some opinions are not valid! Some opinions are harmful!

Bigots (in general) use the exact same tactics, rejecting labels like “racist” or “homophobe” when they’re accused of being such, because they don't believe what they’re promoting or doing “counts” as “real” bigotry or oppression. That doesn’t mean they're right about that. It also does not mean that people should stop saying “I don’t want [bigots] here” because “well what about the [un-self-aware bigots]!!” (They are un-self-aware bigots, not people who just happen to have a neutrally different and equally valid opinion on what constitutes bigotry.)

Ceding that the definition of abuse can reasonably/should be relativized is what abuse-relativizers (and abuse advocates/abusers in general) have been cheering on since forever. They believe that “abuse” is “simply a word to indicate nebulous individual feelings of perceiving Bad Things” because they support abuse and don’t view it as a serious issue specifically defined by exploitation of power/violation of autonomy which is inherently unethical, and view victims as lying, overreacting, contemptible, and unreliable witnesses to or interpreters of our own lives. They apply this view to victims/survivors all the time, dismissing our concerns as simply “subjective feelings” or Moral(tm) Judgment(tm), and cast this labeling as “demonization.”

The term abuse is “sensationalized” in most people’s minds BECAUSE of pervasive abuse culture and pro-abuse attitudes. Of course many people only believe that Actually Extremely Bad actions are “abusive”—they don’t have a good understanding of what abuse is! That is a very bad thing! It is one of the most important factors in making most abuse go undetected and most victims unsupported! (Meanwhile, the actual problem with the anon’s statement and beliefs went unaddressed, missing out on a useful opportunity, because the responder decided to focus completely on the wrong problem.)

I can’t really take this (the responses to the asks) as just some sort of personal preference indicator regarding terminology and comfort levels. It’s clearly a capitulation to abuse culture that fundamentally misunderstands the dynamics at play, and ultimately reinforces these problems.

Yes, much of abuse victim advocacy advises that (at first) you should not directly use the term “abuse” when telling someone that the abusive behaviors they’ve experienced were wrong or that their abuser is harming them. But that has never been a call to keep doing that forever, perceiving avoiding the term “abuse” (them having internalized their abuser’s abusive rhetoric) as some sort of good thing. It’s a crucial part of healing and breaking free from abuse to be able to understand that the abuse was in fact “abuse” and that abusers are abusers.

The word “abuse” is language extremely important to victims/survivors and anti-abuse activists. Abuse apologists’ fear of/aggressive opposition to being labeled abusers is a clear indicator and product of their own ignorance, entitlement, and oppressive ideologies. That makes it even more important to confront their problematic rhetoric and lack of understanding instead of defanging our ability to analyze and critique power dynamics and advocate for ourselves.

Everywhere I look I see people wanting to water down, co-opt, or constrain the language developed and used by survivors because nothing will satisfy them but, ultimately, complete silence. Everywhere people seem allergic to the term “abuse,” complaining that it is “too strong a word” and maybe you shouldn’t use it? I mean it’s kind of harsh/mean/too extreme/subjective/exaggerating/hysterical isn’t it? Just pick a different word!!! (No word ever truly satisfies.) I’m fucking tired of this bullshit and I don’t want traces of it to stick in places where I am supposed to feel safe and have my issues and my needs understood too.

(update: talked it out with the aforementioned third person; we mostly agree)

#OP

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painted-skye · 1 year

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The Observatory

This is my first post so please be kind ^°^

This is kinda NSFW, but doesn't really go below belt (if you get what I mean) I wanted to write a story which went with my own drawing of MC and Lucifer. Hope you enjoy...

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Lucifer looked at you from across the restaurant, smirking slightly every time you looked towards him. It had been a month since you had resumed your human form. Although you looked adorable as a little sheep, you were glad to be back as yourself again. Lucifer glanced your way again, admiring you in the gold dress that he had bought you for your date earlier today. It clung to your frame, tight enough to accentuate your figure, but just loose enough for his liking. He was proud to show you off to the whole of devildom. Walking with his arm tightly around your waist letting everyone know that you were his. As always, Lucifer was mercilessly polite and ensured that you ordered whatever you wanted no matter the cost, feeling proud that he can afford to treat his human exactly how she deserved.

As you walked back towards the observatory, Lucifer held you close, a warm gloved hand grasping your hip. You could feel the electricity flowing from his touch. Despite this being your third date, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, especially with his permentantly etched frown. Whilst wondering where you stood with him, Lucifer casually asked, with his husky voice "I hope you enjoyed your evening MC?", flashing a small smirk that made your heart flutter. "Y-yes thank you, a gentleman as always Lucifer" you stutter, feeling your cheeks flush lightly with heat. "Good" he muttered "I have some work I need to finish off, I hope you don't mind accompanying me to the observatory whilst I finish it?"

"No of course not". You were glad he asked. Every date so far ended in Lucifer practically running to his study to finish his work for Diavolo. You catch your mind racing at the thought of what could happen with both of you alone together for the first time, your cheeks flushing red. 'no' you thought 'I am sure Lucifer is just being a gentleman and is only inviting me to help him with something'. You shake the thought from your mind not wishing for disappointment.

Soon you both reach the base of the stairs to the observatory. You place your hand on the cold handrail and go to take your first step up when you feel warmth next to your ear. Lucifer lightly growls your name, making you jump slightly. "MC you owe me for tonight", he pulls back slightly and smirks, his eyes boring into you. You spin round and try to hide your blush by looking down towards his perfectly shined black leather shoes. "O-oh of course, how much was the dinner?" You ask, feeling your knees slightly buckle at Lucifer's intense gaze, your heart pounding at how close he was to you. "I am not asking for money, you can pay me back another way" Lucifer whispers, placing a hand under your chin and lifting your face to meet his gaze. He has an eyebrow raised slightly, and the corner of his mouth on one side was lifted, ever so slightly showing one of his sharp canine teeth. He looks at you, almost questionngly.

Feeling embarrassed at how intently he is staring at you, you quickly glance away, but Lucifer pulls your face back to look at him. "Don't hide those beautiful eyes MC" he lulls, before he pushes his warm lips against yours. Surprised, you take a moment to drink in the moment. THE Lucifer is kissing YOU, a human?

Noticing your hesitation, Lucifer pulls away slightly "I am sorry MC, I must have got the wrong ide-" before he can finish you wrap your arms around his shoulder and kiss him.

Feeling his lips stretch into a grin under yours, Lucifer pushes you agaisnt the wall of the stairwell, pinning you in place. You feel a rush of heat and excitement pulsate through your chest, and a yearning between your legs. You continue to make out as you stumble up the stairs, Lucifer clumsily pulling off his coat on the way.

At the top of the observatory you begin to loosen Lucifer's deep red tie, desperate to see his body. But before you can get a proper grip, he grabs your hands and pushes them above your head "who do you think is in control MC?" Lucifer breathes between clenched teeth, before he pulls his tie off one handed and wraps it around your wrists and ties it. He then kisses your forehead and traces his lips down the side of your neck to your breasts, kissing the tip of your nipples from ontop of your dress. You moan slightly, which makes him chuckle. "Who would have thought a human could make me feel like this?" He laughs again and pulls you up to your feet, uniting your arms. "That is enough tonight my love. We have had more than enough fun tonight don't you think?".

"B-but I -" you go to protest, wishing for it to continue, but Lucifer grabs you by your waist and pulls you in to meet his gaze "I have work to finish. And everyone knows that those who get on the wrong side of Diavolo get punished, so do not tempt me my princess, otherwise I will have to punish you".

#otome game #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me story #obey me art #obey me shall we date #shall we date lucifer #original art

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orecchinodoro · 4 months

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2/2/2024

'Tis the season, I thought. Mardi Gras, Fat Tuesday, feast Friday.

The highway was alive, though just barely, three lanes all stuck in first gear and full of steering wheels guided by spent, wrung-out hands. I had just let another song in my queue play out, wasting another tune I was too embarrassed to join in on at a stoplight. Sure, there was a chance the panhandlers with the cardboard signs on the medians weren't reporting back to a ringleader in a minivan every few hours like the ones back in New Hampshire used to, but I still didn't want to look dumb in front of them or anybody else.

Everyone's grandparents told them to eat three square meals in a day if at all possible, and although I was running on an iced coffee and a grilled and buttered homemade English muffin from hours earlier, I had cooked up three figurative square meals for the people I work for, only one of which I felt satisfied serving.

Diana, the drag queen I'd been sitting across from at the coffee shop when I ate that English muffin, told me that I needed to start putting spiritual protections in place while I got ready for the shows I did, saying prayers between layers of eyeliner, and she was right in more ways than she'd realized. The people who watch me tear new sounds out of my guitar under neon beer signs in dirty bar corners are one thing, but I should've cast a protection spell the minute I woke up, before my phone rang and a thirteen-letter bad luck name flashed on the caller ID.

At that coffee shop table, I was wearing more eyeliner than Diana, who was safely hidden under a warm winter hat and a pair of glasses I didn't know she even needed, and when we left I stood taller and more defensive with each line of the diss track bumping on the speakers. She wished me luck, I wished her the same, I went my way into battle.

I won the battle, but I still had to fight the rest of today's war, and I figured a hungry warrior deserved a celebratory feast, so I was sitting on four wheels pointed towards a soft shell crab leg po'boy and a slice of pecan pie with my name quite literally on it. Mardi Gras season indeed.

A block or so away, I couldn't help but remember through the thoughts of remoulade and seafood clouding my mind that I was in fact feasting too much this winter. When something good happens to you, you only stay a good person if you pass some part of it along to everyone around you - I used to think "when I have the funds I'll give everything I don't need to someone who does." Now that I had the funds, I was dropping them on sandwiches and vinyl reissues of the '70s soul albums I used to overhear late at night on radio stations I was too young to know existed. Teddy could preach to me through five decades of static and the veil between worlds, but I've been cynicized, wax sealed off from the pavement on the other side of my boots, and that's why I could hear his warm raspy voice in perfect clarity from my old couch.

Do I have to wait until Ash Wednesday to start fasting?

#writing

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relative-dimension · 2 years

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“A Desperate Venture”

Season 1, episode 36 - 1st August 1964

[id: two sensorites stand over Carol, having just pushed her to the floor. One of them leans over her and says "pay attention to me" /end id]

Part of me does wish that the really interesting twist came slightly earlier, and we spent less time on Sensorite internal politics and more time with the survivors of the crashed spaceship. That being said, I do like how simple the ending is - if we had a whole extra episode with those characters, there would have been elements added to pad for time which would probably have diluted the simple point they serve within the story.

Is it an entertaining watch: 5/5, I’ve already said that I love this one. This episode in particular adds the last of the human characters, all of whom are really fun to watch.

Does the production hold up: 4/5, I just think it’s neat.

Does it use its time well: 4/5, the twist is paced out really well, with Carol’s subplot filling time until Dr Who and Ian discover the human survivors, and I also think it’s worth pointing out that the semi-cliffhanger leading into The Reign of Terror is really fucking funny but I didn’t know where to put it.

Are the characters consistent and well-used: 4/5, Barbara’s back! She and Susan get something to do, with Susan using her psychic abilities, although obviously, since this is the 1960s, Dr Who and Ian take the lead in doing anything that involves wrapping up the plot. Still, they all have something to do at least.

Is there anything actually going on under the surface: 5/5, this is the bit that I remember when I think about this story. Essentially, if you for some reason read these weird in-depth reviews of episodes that you haven’t seen, the source of the poison in the Sensorites’ water supply is a small group of three humans, who first arrived searching for the plentiful supplies of molybdenum. They live in fear of the Sensorites, and believe they are at war with them, although that war consists entirely of hiding in the aquaduct and sometimes changing which water output pipe they’re poisoning. At some point in the past, others of their crew attempted to leave in the spaceship, and the captain decided to blow it up because they were “deserting.”

Basically, it’s about colonialism. The captain speaks like the stereotype of the British colonial officer, and they’ve come to a planet intending to exploit its natural resources with no thought as to those who actually live there, who they view as enemies despite no ill intention on the Sensorites part (they don’t even kill them at the end). It’s not subtle, but I think it works really well. It’s like I said in my review of the first episode of this story: this is the first story in the show that feels like science fiction and not just space adventure fantasy, and that includes having a very blunt political message. I love it.

Does it avoid being a bit dodge with its politics: 4/5, yeah, I dunno. Seems fine, although there’s the weird “oh we’re protecting Susan and Barbara by not telling them that we’re going into the tunnels” which is. Yeah.

Overall Score - 26/30

#doctor who #dw #dw review #ian chesterton #barbara wright #susan foreman #the sensorites fuckin slaps yall!!#season 1 #26-30 #another episode in the top bracket fuck yeah #first doctor

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two-timerr · 2 years

Text

120.4

10-3-22

vent.

I'm tired, this isn't for me anymore and I don't think I can stop. im tired of my hair falling out, brusing so easily and my stomach hurting. i wish i could stop. i really wish i could stop. i went to the ER earlier this year and it was just a wake up call that this isnt the way to reclaim my body. I wish the reason behind not eating was still about wanting to be pretty and not a way to reclaim my body. After what my ex did, I've been having trouble remembering who I am or who I was before it happend and I turned to something else instead of focusing on college. it hurts to talk about. I can't remember no matter how hard I try and it breaks me down. although it happened years ago, i thought i was doing so well trying to forget. i was doing so well. i was doing so well. until my dad brought it up. he doesnt know but he said he wouldnt be surprised. i started to spiral and it feels like i still am.

the want to not eat, to distract myself with substances that I'm ashamed to admit. i cant bring myself to type it either. id rather try to forget but that feeling wont go away.

. I gave pieces of myself to help other people and I've had pieces of me taken. it's like I'm grieving for someone who isn't here anymore. I'm trying to come to terms with it, but I don't think I ever will. not remembering heartfelt memories or who you are is something I would never wish upon a person.

I met someone and the connection I feel is incredible. he's been walking me through the motions and I feel so incompetent and vulnerable sometimes but his support is something I've never seen before. I've never come across someone that reciprocates the same love and support I have. I'm trying so hard to eat, I'm trying so hard. I'm not suicidal, I want to grow old. I'm too far in and I want to get better but my body will never go back to how it used too. I hope that doesn't stop me from recovering.

I've had this account for years and only visited when I would relapse. only you and my person knows. i stopped talking to my /friends/. i dont know if it was because im in a low state or them never checking up on me but the other way around. I want to heal and I think it's time for me to close this account and really hope I don't come back.

-tr.

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singledarkshade · 2 years

Text

All That Glitters

Part Two (Part One found here) Once his flight was in the air, Rip studied the information on the technology conference making sure he was booked into the workshops and talks he wanted to attend. He’d been surprised when Singh agreed to let him attend the conference, but Rip was aware he had a lot of goodwill with the brass considering his ‘recent success’ with the Sapphire and Steel case.

Normally it wasn’t something he would use, but he really wanted to attend the conference, and the things he learned would come in useful in future. So, it was work related.

Leaning back Rip closed his eyes, it had been a strange few months, and he wanted to forget all about it. The only truly positive thing that had happened was knowing that Druce was dead. Knowing that the phantom who had haunted his dreams for so many years was finally gone was liberating in a way he didn’t expect. Although it had taken a visit to the prison doctor to ensure he was truly deceased before Rip believed it.

He was surprised when he heard the announcement they were landing and quickly packed away his things, so he was ready to get off.

Rip managed to get through security quickly and headed to get a taxi to his hotel. He was impressed by how nice a hotel he’d been booked into, but as it was one of the hotels connected to the conference, he assumed there was a good discount given.

“Welcome to the Rosewater Hotel,” the young man behind the reception desk said with a polite smile, “Can I see your conference ID?”

Rip handed over the pass and waited as it was scanned, looking around the lobby at the furnishings and pictures.

“Mr Hunter,” the receptionist said making Rip turn back to him, “You have been upgraded to one of the suites with our compliments. Here is your room key, you will need that to access your floor and all the information on your meals is in the conference pack. A free shuttle to the conference centre leaves every half hour starting from 8 am from in front of the reception, just show your pass. In addition, you have access to the pool and gym facilities for the duration of your stay.”

“Thank you,” Rip said gathering the items.

The receptionist nodded, “Enjoy your stay.”

When he reached his room Rip stared in amazement, there was a massive king-sized bed, a lounge area complete with a couch and coffee table which led out to a balcony overlooking the gardens. Finally, he checked the bathroom and found a large sunken tub along with a shower that took up more space than the kitchen and bathroom of his first flat.

Checking the time, Rip decided to go for a walk before dinner. He dropped his bags, slid the room key into his pocket and headed out.

Rip rubbed his eyes as the lights came up after the lecture, although he was enjoying the conference it had been a long day and he was relieved it was over. He planned to head back to the hotel, have dinner, read for an hour or so, and then get some sleep.

Reaching his room, Rip dropped his bag on the bed spinning when he heard noise coming from the bathroom. Wishing he had his gun he moved slowly, grabbing one of the lamps as a weapon. Slowly he opened the door and stared in surprise at the woman in the bath surrounded by bubbles.

“Gideon?” he demanded, putting the lamp down.

A smile lit up her face, “You’re here earlier than I expected. I thought your last lecture finished only five minutes ago?”

Rip stared at her for a moment before asking, “What are you doing here?”

“Having a bath,” she smirked, “Our room has a wonderful tub I had to use.”

“Our room?”

Gideon chuckled at his demand, “Why do you think you received an upgrade? The original room you were booked into wasn’t as nice with a much smaller bed and only a shower.”

Shaking his head, he turned and walked out hearing Gideon call his name. Stalling he tried to work out what to do and finally just sat on the edge of the bed.

“Aren’t you happy to see me?” Gideon asked with a slight pout, walking into the room wearing one of the hotel’s robes.

Rip closed his eyes rubbing the bridge of his nose, “What happened to ‘we need to end this now before it becomes too hard to let you go’?”

Sliding onto the bed kneeling behind him, she rested her hands on his shoulder massaging them gently.

“That wasn’t my choice,” Gideon told him.

Rip shook his head.

Silence filled the room for several minutes before Gideon whispered, “Are you angry with me?”

Grimacing Rip tried not to let the soft breath against his skin distract him.

“You know,” she continued, pressing gentle kisses to his neck before murmuring, “If you want, you can spank me.”

“Gideon…”

She chuckled wickedly in his ear, “You already know my safe word.”

Turning Rip caught her arms, he was going to tell her to stop, to tell her to leave but looking into her grey eyes he found himself pulling her into his arms and kissing her.

Gideon let out a soft sigh when they parted before giving him an amused smirk, “I knew you missed me.”

Rip frowned at her, “What are you doing here, Gideon? Where’s Miranda?”

Sadness filled her eyes and she pulled away, sitting against the pillows, “We’re taking a break from each other.”

Rip moved to sit at her side, “What happened?”

Shrugging Gideon replied, “I decided I needed to spend some time on my own.”

“Why?”

Resting against his arm, Gideon sighed, “I was young when I fell in love with Miranda. I’d just lost my parents and I was so afraid. There she was. Strong and loving, she protected me from everything, and I let her.”

Stroking her hair, Rip asked, “What changed?”

“You did,” Gideon turned to look at him.

“I’m being blamed for you two breaking up?” Rip demanded surprised and a little annoyed.

Gideon shook her head, “Not like that,” she slid her hand into his, “Miranda sent you the email telling you that we were ending things. But she did it without consulting me and we normally discuss everything. Making that decision for me made me realise that I lean on her too much and she doesn’t believe that I can make hard decisions.”

“So, you left?”

“I’m taking some time away,” Gideon stated matter-of-factly, “To learn to be me without her.”

Rip nodded, “You miss her, don’t you?”

“No.”

“Then why are you here?” Rip asked.

Gideon knelt so she was facing him, “Because I wanted to see you. Because I missed you,” she moved closer to him and smiled, “And I know you missed me.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“That kiss did,” Gideon pressed her lips to his once more.

Rip moaned softly as she deepened the kiss and climbed onto Rip’s lap. After a few seconds she tugged on the belt of the robe letting it fall open.

“You’re wearing too many clothes,” Gideon murmured, breaking the kiss pulling at his t-shirt.

“This is a bad idea,” Rip sighed as he allowed her to remove his top.

Gideon smiled wickedly, “Very bad. But you enjoy being bad, don’t you?”

With a chuckle he gave in and pulled her close again.

*********************************************

Rip woke up and found he was alone in the large bed. He knew he shouldn’t have been surprised that Gideon had disappeared, but he was disappointed that she wasn’t beside him. Knocking made him look up and he saw Gideon, wearing his t-shirt, heading to answer.

“I ordered breakfast,” she smiled, opening the door she took the tray, making sure the door closed properly before bringing the tray over to the bed.

Rip slid to sit up as Gideon sat beside him and looked down at the food she’d ordered.

“Waffles with fresh fruit, whipped cream and chocolate spread,” Rip said, “Why…”

“Because it’s your favourite breakfast,” Gideon smiled sweetly as she grabbed a piece of apple and popping it in her mouth, “I thought you deserved it after how hard you worked last night.”

Rip frowned confused, “How do you know that?”

With innocence covering her face, she fed him a bit of the waffle, “I saw it on the surveillance that we did of you.”

“That is creepy,” Rip noted before shrugging, “But kind of nice that you remember.”

Gideon shrugged, “I remember everything that makes you smile.”

Rip kissed her, “You really do sparkle.”

With a shy smile, Gideon stared at him with her beautiful grey eyes before ordering, “Eat your breakfast. We don’t have long until the first lecture of the morning.”

Rip took a seat at the back of the hall, so that it was easier for Gideon to join him. They couldn’t be seen together in public and had travelled from the hotel to the conference centre separately. The lights went down, and Rip focussed on the man who began to introduce the topic.

Gideon slid into the seat at his side about three minutes later, without looking at him at all. It was almost the end of the morning session when Rip felt Gideon’s hand rest on his knee. Her fingers began drawing patterns on his thigh before she suddenly unzipped his trousers and slid her hand inside.

Rip let out a squeak of surprise.

“Shh,” Gideon breathed without looking at him, “You don’t want to disturb the lecture or let anyone know what I’m doing.”

Biting his lip as she gently stroked him, Rip was relieved when the morning session ended and he jumped up to get out of the hall before anyone saw him, surprised when he was pulled into a cupboard.

“Gideon…” he started.

“Be quiet,” she ordered as she pulled him close, “We don’t want anyone to know we’re in here.”

Rip did as he was told. Gideon pushed his trousers down, hooking her leg around him as he lifted her, Gideon’s legs wrapped around his waist, and she moaned as Rip slid into her.

“Good boy,” Gideon sighed in his ear as she rode him, “That’s my detective.”

Rip knew this was a terrible idea but couldn’t stop himself as he thrust into the women murmuring encouragement in his ear. Moaning against her neck they climaxed together.

“Fix yourself,” Gideon ordered as he let her down, “We need to get something to eat before the afternoon sessions start.”

Fixing her skirt, Gideon checked her make-up, blew him a kiss, and left him standing in the cupboard wondering when he had lost all common sense.

Gideon left Rip at the conference centre, he had one final workshop to attend that didn’t interest her, so she caught the earlier shuttle back to the hotel. She had been ecstatic to discover Rip was also attending the conference because she would be able to see him. Originally, she intended to just run into him at the actual conference and maybe persuade him to come to her hotel room but, since her plan was to have him in her bed every night anyway, Gideon simply fixed things so that they were sharing.

And then gave them an upgrade to a suite.

She found the last few weeks on her own to be strange, but it felt good that she had stepped away from Miranda. Even if Gideon missed her deeply. Stepping into the hotel room she ran the bath adding her favourite bubble bath, checking her phone for any calls from Miranda.

But there was nothing.

Miranda had not contacted her at all since the night she left. It was one of the reasons she decided to let Rip know that she was at the conference as well. Sex with Rip had always been on her terms, he acquiesced to her whereas Miranda was usually the one in charge when they were together.

Sinking into the hot water, she knew that these few days were not real. Because, as angry as she had been for Miranda making the decision without her, it was the right one. Rip was no longer part of their world and deserved to have the life escaping from Druce had given him.

Hearing the door, she smiled, leaning back in the water, and waited for Rip to appear.

“What happened today,” Rip said instantly, “Can’t happen again.”

Rolling her eyes, Gideon challenged, “Did you tell me to stop? Or move my hand? No. You liked it.”

“Gideon,” he frowned, “You are…”

“Enjoying life,” she replied with a smile.

Rip nodded with a sigh, “That is true.”

Gently stroking his cheek Gideon smiled, “I don’t pretend that this is anything more than what it is. We can’t have anything more than these few days, so I want to enjoy every moment we have together. And you are extremely sexy when you’re concentrating.”

Rip sighed.

“That offer to spank me is still open,” she told him with a smirk. Laughing at Rip’s stunned expression she kissed him quickly before laying back in the bubbles, “Are you joining me?”

“I think I’ll order dinner,” he replied.

Gideon gave a pout before saying, “Get me the pasta.”

Watching him leave, Gideon smiled to herself again.

Rip gripped Gideon’s hips as she rode him, her head thrown back, her hair tumbling down her back.

“Good boy,” she moaned, “My Detective.”

Gideon gave a cry as they came together, she fell onto the bed at his side and Gideon sighed happily.

“That felt so good,” she shifted slightly so she was cuddled against him before asking, “Do you remember our first time?”

Rip wrapped his arms around her, “Of course I do. I was drugged and handcuffed to the bed afterwards.”

Giggling, Gideon kissed him again, “I was thinking more of what happened before that.”

“Oh, when you seduced me,” Rip said amused.

“It wasn’t exactly hard to do,” she murmured.

Rip frowned at her, “Really?”

“I knew you enjoyed your birthday present,” Gideon teased, “I simply offered you the chance to join in the live show.”

“If you’re going to send me something like that,” Rip replied, “You can’t expect me not to enjoy it.”

Gideon wrapped her arms around him, pressing her body to his, “Being with you feels so right. I love you, Rip.”

Rip knew he shouldn’t admit how he felt, that this wasn’t something that could last, but as he stared into her eyes, Rip whispered, “I love you too.”

#fic #legends of tomorrow #rip hunter #gideon #timeship #alternate universe

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pairlow3 · 2 years

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wonlouvre · 3 years

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pairing: doctor!wonwoo x lawyer!female oc genre: modern royalty, arranged marriage, fluff and future angst word count: 3.2k WARNINGS: child trafficking, child labor

a/n: just a disclaimer, i am not that well-versed when it comes to investigations and trial procedures at the court. please do correct me i make a mistake. i hope you enjoy this new part! i think we have about three or four chapters left. ANGST is on the next part :’(

seven: if you can’t believe | masterlist

“On April xx, 20xx, at approximately 10:30 in the morning, two unidentified males entered and held hostage the Emergency Room of the Royal Hospital. The nurse in charge of the information desk said that the two males approached the desk and asked if there were two boys (their identities are yet to be confirmed) admitted to the hospital. They claimed that they’re their guardians and wish to have them discharged and transferred to a different hospital. Based on their description, the nurse confirmed that there were two boys who came to the hospital earlier in the morning. However, the nurse informed them that they are not cleared to be discharged yet as per doctor’s orders and if they wish to discuss with the doctor-in-charge, they can. They only need to present IDs or any documentation to prove that they are indeed the guardian.

They did present IDs however, it was not valid and accepted by the hospital. The two males started demanding to see the two boys and insisted that they will recognize who they were. At that point, the nurse said the two males’ were beginning to raise their voices. The nurse asked them to calm down and wait patiently for the doctor-in-charge to arrive. That’s when the two males pulled out handguns and threateningly pointed it at the nurse.

The Royal Hospital’s security was alerted and immediately called the Royal Police. The hospital’s security was able to distract the two suspects until one of the police officers fired a shot. Fortunately, no hospital staff and patients were harmed. It is yet to be identified how the armed suspects were able to enter the hospital undetected.

The Royal Police cannot release the names of the suspects and any other details as the investigation is still ongoing. However, we are looking at the direction that this could possibly be a case of child trafficking and the two suspects are perpetrators.

Please be rest assured that we are committed to solve this case and hold everyone involved accountable. We ask the general public to only believe verified information and wait for the official statements that the Royal Police will release accordingly.

Thank you for your understanding.”

You’re both crestfallen and angry. This paper would probably rip apart from the way your hand is deathly gripping it. It’s never easy to read and hear about crimes committed against innocent people. It’s never easy because they don’t deserve to go through the torment, harm and trauma. You wish you could avoid it, but it would be wrong and unfair to the victims. So no matter how heartbreaking or uncomfortable it is, you read and you listen because you have to be aware of it. You have to know and not turn a blind eye because they deserve to be heard and fought for.

This black and white statement of the Royal Police is nothing but horrible. How did the kingdom let this pass? For a kingdom that’s so proud of its enforcement of strict laws, how did this crime happen right under its nose?

It weighs on your heart and ever since you’ve taken hold of this piece of paper, you don’t know how to continue on with the day anymore. You lean your head against the backrest and stare up the ceiling. You breathe in and breathe out, getting yourself together to think, to function.

Something is telling you that there is more to this hostage taking at the hospital and this case of child trafficking. And you desperately need to know. You’re already aware that the authorized and concerned people are doing their job already, but why is it drawing your attention?

You release an exasperated sigh and massage your right brow. It’s been twitching due to the boiling anger inside you and you just want it to stop. The only way for that to happen is to find answers. Picking up your phone among the pile of papers, you dial the number of the person you’re sure that can give you any information, big or small.

First ring. Second ring. Thi---, “Your Highness.”

You’re quick to your feet the moment he answered. “Hey Seungkwan. How have you been?”

Boo Seungkwan is the man to call. A persistent and assertive prosecutor and person in general. Definitely one of the brightest classmates and lawyers you have ever met. It’s no surprise that he’s hired by the Supreme Prosecutor’s Office as a prosecutor. He knows what he’s doing and more than doing, he knows how to fight to the end.

He actually wanted you to join together and you considered the offer. However, due to your position in the kingdom, you realized that practicing in private is more suitable for you.

“Well,” he says and pauses, “I have been better. How about you, Your Highness?”

“You know that you can call me Y/N, right?” You remind him, offering a smile even though he won’t be able to see it. “We went to law school and passed the exams together.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbles, not a big fan of throwbacks. “To what do I owe this phone call anyway?”

“About the recent statement of the Royal Police, is there anything you’d be willing to share with me?” You requested and faced the window that’s overlooking the city.

You hear him chuckle on the other line. “I knew you’d ask. You do know that I’m risking my job as a prosecutor because I can’t say no to you right?”

“Is it something… big?” You ask nervously, biting the insides of your cheek.

A beat of silence passes and you can tell it is without having him say it. You think your heart is going to explode anytime soon.

“Big or not, it’s a case and a crime,” he retorts. “But this is something that Their Majesties need to brace themselves for,” he continues, warning laced on his voice. “It can shake the cabinet as well because we can tell that one, and if not, some of them are involved.”

There it is. The cold hard truth. There was nothing else to say. It’s more than obvious that the kingdom’s cabinet has been compromised and it will blow right at your family’s faces. You don’t even need to doubt it. But still, your blood runs cold at the thought.

“Thank you Seungkwan,” you say and breathe out a defeated sigh. “Let’s meet for coffee some other time.”

You hear him say “anytime” and then end the call.

You toss your phone back on the table and cross your arms as if you’re trying to hug yourself. Your eyes are out of focus and your mind has questions that need answers. This case is not even about protecting your family’s reputation anymore. It’s about your family protecting its people, its children, from this.

You’ll probably never forgive yourself if you and the rest of your family have failed to do its promise and duty.

“Your Highness?” Jeongyeon knocks on the wooden door and calls for you, pulling you back to the ground. “Are you ready to go?”

You frown and tilt your head to the side, confused. You don’t remember having errands outside the office today.

Jeongyeon notices your confusion and says, “Your monthly checkup is today.”

Oh.

“I’m sorry. It must have slipped my mind,” you say and quickly gather your things so that you can leave now. “Thank you, Jeongyeon.”

She nods, understanding what you meant. She keeps the door open and waits for you to pass through.

What the hell am I going to do? You ask yourself. A million thoughts has started running inside your mind from reading the statement up to finding out that this case could potentially be a crime syndicate. A crime syndicate that the Royal Family failed to prevent. Every day, there are crimes that get tried and solved in this kingdom. But for this particular crime, it doesn’t happen every day and it shouldn’t be in the first place. But, your kingdom must have grown complacent because here it is, a ticking time bomb that will explode anytime soon.

How did this happen and who allowed this to happen?

“Your stress levels are quite high compared to your previous check-up, Your Highness.” The doctor gives you a knowing smile after reading the results of your tests today.

“It’s because of work,” you make an excuse and return his smile with a sheepish one while scratching the back of your neck. “I think.”

The doctor tried to muffle his laughter, but you can hear him snicker nonetheless. He just nods and mutters an, “alright,” and proceeds to write down the results and updates of this consultation.

“Although there is nothing to be concerned about, I still advise you to take things slow,” he once again points out the reminder that he gave from the first time you got admitted. “Remember, I’ll never get tired of saying it.”

You nod and purse your lips in a smile. “I promise I’ll try.”

He raises his eyebrows at your answer, but lets it go in the end.

“I think we are good,” he says and leans his elbows on the table, hands clasped together. “Let’s go back to your yearly check-up, like the usual.”

“Thank you for your time.�� You stand up and reach your hand out to shake his. “I’ll see you next year, then.”

The doctor replies with his smile still intact, “I will be here.”

You think about taking the rest of the afternoon off and just go back to your apartment. You suddenly don’t feel so good and present, for lack of a better word. You just want to think alone, away from any distractions.

On your way out to the door, you pull your phone out from your bag to call Jeongyeon. This floor of the hospital is private and reserved only for your family. It’s something you’re not proud of and you should probably talk to Their Majesties about it. You sigh and hold your phone to your ear as you proceed to the elevator. You're only a few steps away when a familiar voice makes you stop.

“Hey.”

You jump in surprise, almost dropping your phone and bag. You turn around and you’re not so surprised anymore to see a grinning Wonwoo with hands inside the pockets of his white coat. With a roll of your eyes, you finally relaxed your tensed shoulders and walked towards him.

He meets you halfway and holds his hand out. You happily take it, making it easy for him to tug you close to his chest, bringing you in for a hug. You wrapped your arms around his neck while his around your waist. Just like that, his breath against your skin made all your worries vanish.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, distancing from him but not letting go.

“I knew that you’d be here,” he answers, keeping his hold on your arms. “Had to see you.”

You scoff and give his shoulder a light shove. “Shut up. We were inseparable until our last day at your hometown and yet you still want to see me. Aren’t you sick and tired of my face yet?”

He pinches your cheek and kisses the tip of your nose. “Of course not.”

“Well, I’m leaving,” you announce and let go of him, reluctantly (as always). “You should probably get back to work.”

Wonwoo doesn’t let you move any further and drags his hand from your arm to your hand, swaying it from side to side as he whines out, “But, I’m on my break. Can’t you stay a little longer?”

You don’t really give in easily and it takes a lot of persuasion before you actually do. Jeongyeon can’t even convince you to stop going home late. But with just one request and pleading eyes, Wonwoo has you standing inside his office.

It’s spacious, but a tad bit messy. There is lots of paper. In fact mountains of them, which you are very familiar with already. A wall of books is on one side of the room while three respective desks are on the other side. There’s a window, which is good, you can see some natural lighting. And of course, a small pantry for coffee and snacks.

Wonwoo offered his chair for you to sit on as he prepared you something to drink. You still look around and try to keep yourself occupied. Your eyes trail on his desk eventually and you can’t help but smile. If every corner of this room is in disarray, Wonwoo’s desk seems to be the only area that is not. There’s nothing much on it except for a jar of pens, pencils and highlighters, a notepad and some bookmarked books.

“You’ve met Soonyoung, right?” He asks, coming back with two warm cups. Coffee for him and tea for you. “I share this office with him and another doctor.”

You nod and take a quick sip. You noticed that it’s almost lunch time on the clock above the door and wondered, “Is this all you’re going to have for lunch?”

“I had some cheeseburger earlier this morning, so I’m good,” he answers and leans against the edge of the desk. “How about you? Are you hungry?”

You smile and shake your head no.

Then, it got quiet.

It’s not an uncomfortable silence, but you think Wonwoo can sense something else by the way his eyebrows raise as if he’s waiting for you to say something more. He sips on his coffee one more time before placing the cup down on the table. Afterwards, he takes matters into his own hands and swivels the chair you're sitting on by the armrest towards him, catching you off guard.

His actions almost made you drop your drink and you thought for a moment if you should punch him again. “What are you doing?”

Wonwoo just gives you a mischievous smirk before leaning down to kiss your lips. Your eyes dilate in surprise while the rest of your body freezes. You’re just thankful you’re already sat on the chair, otherwise your legs would give up and you’d fall. When you don’t resist, his kiss deepens, demanding. But it didn’t go any further than a few more pecks here and there. You let him be until he decides to pull away, but not without giving one last long smooch.

“What was that for?” You ask, suddenly shy.

Wonwoo just nonchalantly shrugs. “Just wanted to kiss you.”

“You startled me!” You hiss and slap his arm.

Wonwoo has started to take pleasure in seeing you all flustered and shy. He finds it cute and he’ll take every chance he gets just to see it. But he knows there’s something bothering you and he’s hoping you give him the chance to hear you out.

“Talk to me,” he says while crouching, almost sitting down on the floor to meet your height. “What’s on that brilliant head of yours?”

You roll your eyes at his choice of words but give in nonetheless, “It’s the hostage that took place previously. There’s a new update about it.”

Wonwoo exhales and moves to massage your thighs. “I read about it briefly earlier.”

You nod and let the silence engulf the two of you once again.

“Listen, the kids they we’re talk---”

“Wonwoo!”

You jump when the door of the office suddenly bolts open with two unfamiliar boys dressed in hospital gowns running inside. They’re quickly followed by a panting Soonyoung who gives the two of you an apologetic smile. Wonwoo immediately stands up as they excitedly dash towards him while chanting his name.

“We heard you were on a break, can we play now? Please?” The little one, which you assumed was the youngest, pleads and hops in the hopes of Wonwoo carrying him. The other one, who’s much taller, does the same but he’s only clinging to his arms.

“I’m sorry if I interrupted something, Your Highness,” Soonyoung says (you’re sure he’s teasing) and gives you a salute. “These boys never get tired and I have no idea how.”

You stand up from the chair too and try to get a good look on the boy’s faces, but you couldn’t because their attention is only on Wonwoo.

“We’ll play, alright?” Wonwoo tries to calm them down.”But I want you to meet someone special first.”

Your heart skips a beat meanwhile Soonyoung’s jaw drops in a silent squeal.

“They were the kids from the statement,” Wonwoo warrily says while making the boys face you.

Statement?

Your heart skipped one moment and the next it dropped to your stomach. You didn’t expect it to be them. You really hoped it wasn’t them. You don’t even know how sure you are that it’s them. But when you finally meet their eyes, these boys don’t seem to be so unfamiliar anymore.

It’s them.

“Hey, what’s wrong?” Wonwoo asks, suddenly concerned by the sudden downcast of your face.

“Wonwoo...” you weakly whisper.

They’re one of the children adopted from the orphanage.

“Can you ask the orphanage if they can give us a copy of photographs displayed at their gallery?”

A phone call has never felt so dreadful. You can’t help but bite your nails as you listen to Jeongyeon adhere to your request. A lump has already formed on your throat and you don’t even know how you’re going to swallow it.

You slide your phone back to your pocket when Jeongyeon said she’d get back to you shortly. You turn around from where you were standing and see Wonwoo and Soonyoung playing with the two boys. It’s bittersweet. For one, you’re glad they are free and happy and on the other hand, it doesn’t sit right why they have to go through terrible and unimaginable things just so that they can be.

And it doesn’t help that it all happened here.

Wonwoo told you how they got to know them and how he had asked the hospital to keep them here in the meantime, in coordination with Social Services of course. He didn’t need the hostage taking or the police’s statement to know what’s going on because his guts already told him the moment he saw the state of the boys. But then again, what happened only confirmed what he feared the most.

Wonwoo deviates his attention to you and notices your lost gaze. By the looks of it, he’s aware that this is bothering you. He gives Sam’s hair a ruffle before standing up and walking to where you are.

“Are you okay?” He asks, reaching his hand out to softly squeeze your arm.

“Yeah,” you affirm, but the palm against your forehead doesn’t seem to agree. “I just… I can’t believe this.”

“It’s okay,” he tries to soothe your distress with his hand cradling your face. “I mean, it’s not. But, it’s not your fault.”

Why does it feel like it is?

You couldn’t ask him that out loud so you just give him a nod instead. Wonwoo knows you’re hesitant to believe him and he doesn’t like it. He takes your hands and squeezes them.

“Look at me,” he commands and when you don't, he lifts your chin up himself. “I’m confident this will be solved in no time. Have faith in your people and yourself, hmm? ”

“Okay,” you answer and that makes Wonwoo smile.

Okay. You’re going to stop wallowing in your own uncertainty. You draw your eyes back at the boys and at this moment, you promised that punishment will be inflicted to everyone responsible for their suffering.

No matter what it takes.

#seventeen #wonwoo #seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen scenario #wonwoo scenario #wonwoo fluff #seventeen fluff #wonwoo imagines #wonwoo imagine #seventeen imagines #seventeen imagine #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #wonwoo seventeen #seventeen wonwoo #fic: ifliys

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joheun-saram · 4 years

Text

“Is your refrigerator running?” (jjk)

Summary- Who knew the annoying prank calls you were receiving would become the favourite part of your day.

word count- 4.2k

pairing- fratboy!Jungkook x Reader

rating- PG-13

genre- fluff, collegeau

warnings- none! just stupid jokes.

a.n- Part of my drabbles for @btsholidaybingo, ticking off the Prank Calls tile! I’ll be posting these every week or so as I get them done. Check out the other drabbles here :)

s/o to the beautiful @heyitsmeee2 for beta reading and helping me fix the ending! 💕

As always feedback appreciated. Send me an ask! 💌

“So how’s your new boyfriend?” Namjoon asked you as you chewed on your fries, almost choking at his insinuition. He laughs at you as he takes a sip of his milkshake, slurping obnoxiously, his eyes widening as he concentrates on the flavour.

“Stop! He’s just a random guy with too much time on his hands! I don’t even know his name! Although...” You stared at your burger, trying to forget what your roommate was alluding to. Two months ago you had started getting phone calls from a stranger. It wasn't something from a horror movie, don't worry. It was harmless. He would call you at random times in the day to ask you silly questions. You don’t know how he even got your number but there was something about his easy going nature and lame jokes that made you want to continue talking to him. Namjoon suspected it was a byproduct of your loneliness, but it was comforting hearing his voice to break through your mundane day to day.

"Hi, is this Y/N?" A deep voice spoke as you picked up the call from an unknown number.

"Yes this is she. Who is this?" You asked as you sat up straighter, your attention diverting from the paper you were writing. You had applied to eight jobs for after graduation and you were sure this was a call for an interview, even though it was 10 pm. Your eyes lit up as you hoped this was the big consulting firm you were waiting to hear from.

"I have a very important question that I was hoping you could help me with."

"Um.. sure go ahead." You fiddled with your pen, scribbling random shapes on your notebook, feeling somewhat nervous. Is this how employers usually talked? Did they do this to build anticipation?

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"I'm sorry what?"

"Is your refrigerator running?"

"Are you calling on behalf of the landlord?" Your voice was flat with disappointment. Surely, this was not an important question. Oh how you wished it was an interview call. You sighed.

"Please answer my question."

"Yes. It's running."

"Then you better go catch it, shouldn't you?"

And with that he hung up and you were baffled. Which decade was this dude from? Who does these lame prank calls anyway and more importantly why does your caller ID not show who it is? Thinking nothing of it, you go about finishing your assignment, albeit slightly aggravated. However, the calls continue. Everyday this stranger would call you with questions, sometimes with a silly punchline but oftentimes even sillier riddles.

"Okay, dude seriously. This is getting annoying." You huffed after a week and a half of receiving calls from the same deep voiced stranger, although you’d be lying if you said his little laugh after he told his jokes was not endearing.

"I'm sorry I didn't mean to annoy you." He seemed hurt and you couldn’t fathom why he would be hurt over a comment a stranger made over his prank calls. In fact, you were sure this was some hobby of his and he had a rotation of strangers to bother.

"Can you at least tell me your name?" You don’t know why you were indulging him, but you had to give him props for constantly calling you. It was kind of becoming part of your daily routine.

"Dixie. My name's Dixie." You could hear the mirth in his tone.

"Dixie? Oh I thought you were a dude, my bad."

"I can be a dude and still have Dixie as my name. Jeez, are you a bigot?" He scolded.

"Sorry, sorry! I didn't mean it that way, Dixie."

"That's Dixie Normus to you." He laughed at his joke, every syllable of his laugh separated as if he was a cartoon character.

"Oh my god. You're the worst!" Regardless of your words, you were laughing. Laughing hard enough to have the banana milk you were drinking to snort out of your nose, making you cough. For a moment, you were glad this stranger wasn't in the room.

"Sorry! Are you okay?" You could hear the humour in his words, shading them in anything but an apology.

And so it went, your mysterious caller, who refused to go by anything other than Dixie turned into a somewhat friend, if you can even call someone who you know no personal details about your friend. After a month the phone calls had turned from cringe worthy puns to actual conversations about your day. You had started to look forward to the unknown flashing on your screen, and sharing the mundane details of your day with Dixie.

In two months you learned a lot more about Dixie. He went to your university, he was an avid gamer, he majored in computer science, and apparently it was now part of his daily routine to call you whenever he was cooling down from his workout on the treadmill - explaining the creepy breathlessness of his voice and beeps in the background. Sometimes you had half a mind to go to the university gym during your calls and see your mysterious friend, but somehow you never found the courage. It was nice not knowing what Dixie looked like, not judging someone by their looks but just by the content of their words. There was no room for disappointment.

It also oddly comforted you that you would never meet him and during your nightly conversations you would end up sharing thoughts that you’d be too uncomfortable sharing with even your best friends. Thoughts about the uncertainty you had over graduating soon, thoughts about being sad over failed relationships, even thoughts about your random existential crisis that would plague you mid week. Dixie was empathetic and had a knack for comforting you with small jokes and his own struggles. You would never admit it to Namjoon, but Dixie was slowly becoming your closest friend, even surpassing him to a certain extent.

"You're insane you know that?" Namjoon chided as you talked about Dixie and how you considered him a friend now. Even though Namjoon was your best friend since first grade, he sometimes didn't understand why you romanticised daily events so much. He never understood why you kept giving Dixie the benefit of the doubt, why you kept picking up his phone calls even when you knew it was going to be a lame joke or two.

"I'm not insane Joon! Haven't you heard of pen pals? This is the same thing but with voice."

"Nah. I think it's your crippling loneliness. Which is why we're going to Jin's frat party tonight." Namjoon was not having any of your excuses. So what if your last relationship was a year ago. You and Yoongi were great together. He was the perfect boyfriend and after he went to LA to pursue his music career, you told him you'd wait. Turns out he wasn't on the same page as you since six months after moving, he called you to break things off. He was right though, it would have been stupid to wait for him when neither of you knew when and even if he was ever coming back. It was unfair to the both of you to keep dragging this thing along. But even if Yoongi hadn't been around the last year and a half, you just couldn't see yourself with anyone else. You still missed talking to him every night and sharing your day, laughing at stupid videos together or just listening to him playing the piano through the static line of your phone. Maybe Namjoon was right. Maybe you were lonely and the only reason you were so attached to Dixie was because of the way his phone calls had replaced Yoongi's and how you no longer waited at the end of your day staring at your phone waiting for your ex's call but instead you received real actual calls from your voice pen pal.

You sighed agreeing with Namjoon and went home, not exactly looking forward to the party and missing Dixie’s call.

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

Jin's frat was notorious for the wildest parties on campus. It was always a cacophony of drunk students and a pit of hedonism. When Namjoon and you arrived, the party was in full swing and you thanked your best friend for having the foresight of pre-drinking. The bottle of grapefruit soju you had emptied earlier at your shared apartment ensured that you were not put off by the plethora of drunk guys trying to hit on you microseconds after you entered.

Looking for Jin and let's be honest, a little gin as well, you and Namjoon made your way to the kitchen, to be greeted by your tall friend doing a keg stand. Beer dripped down his chin as his fraternity brothers held him up, his feet almost touching the ceiling. As you poured yourself a gin and tonic, Jin climbed down from the keg to a chorus of applause. Much to your chagrin, he walked over, draping his arms around your shoulders and plastering your back with his beer soaked chest.

"Ew get off me you vermin!" You squealed, shivering in the gross feeling, your backless top doing nothing to shield you from your friend’s shirt as he refused to budge.

"Vermin? VERMIN?! I invite you to my house, give you free drinks, and an array of decent dicks to pick from and I'm the vermin?" Jin finally detaches, giving you a scowl as he leans against the kitchen island, pouring himself what you gather is his tenth drink of the night.

"Jin all of these guys are as gross as you. And I've told you I don't need to get laid!"

"Sure tell that to your vibrator working overtime."

"How did you even - " you sputered, eyes wide with disbelief.

"Namjoon, obviously. And before you kill him, there are no secrets between friends and part-time lovers." He winked, making you roll your eyes. Namjoon and Jin had been on and off since the beginning of freshmen year, neither the type for commitment but to your dismay loved to tell you all about their rollercoaster of a relationship. You swear you could write a thesis on dysfunctional relationships using theirs as a case study.

"Ew. Please stop. I don't need to know about you and Joon getting it on."

"Well then let me introduce you to someone so you can get it on." He wiggled his eyebrows puckering his lips to annoy you.

"I know all your brothers Jin and no thank you." You lightly slapped his lips making him groan as he grabbed your wrist continuing his tirade. You’d be lying if you said his frat brothers had never caught your eye - they were famous for their astoundingly good looks, in fact there even seemed to be an instagram page dedicated to people randomly spotting them on campus (@betatauinthewild). However, their good looks did not make up for the fact that they were a bunch of loud fuckboys. You loved Jin and Namjoon and would literally stab anyone who said anything against them but you had to agree that they were the biggest players of the group, finding a new person to bed almost every weekend. That is, unless they were with each other - case and point their dysfunctional relationship.

"Well we have a new brother and he's my little brother. He's a sophomore, he just joined, and he's your type. The whole quiet but nice guy type." Jin continued, ignoring you in typical fashion.

"I don't have a type."

"Please! As if Yoongi wasn’t a cookie cutter tsundere. Come on let me introduce you to him!" He grabbed your shoulder and pleaded, pouting and widening his eyes in the most adorable puppy dog face you had seen him pull.

"Can we not talk about Yoongi please." You sighed. You finished your drink and proceeded to pour another one.

"Yes! Let's talk about JK!"

"Jin... come on. Let's just drink okay?"

"Fine but I'm telling you, you'll get along. He's a great guy."

An hour into the party, you had lost both Jin and Namjoon and were getting tired of Jin’s exceedingly drunk frat brothers trying their pick up lines of the day on you. Your head was hurting from the noise of the party and you were sure if you saw another couple subtly trying to test their exhibitionism kink you were going to puke. So as it was typical for whenever you went to these parties, you started to make your way to Jin’s room. Jin may be loud and obnoxious and being lusted after by pretty much the entire campus, but he was reliable for one thing: he never fucked where he slept. And so his room became a sort of sanctuary for you when these parties would get too much.

You made your way up the stairs almost tripping over two guys who had decided that making out horizontally on the stairs was a good idea - you did not envy how busted their backs would be tomorrow. Punching in the code you walked in to find that there was already someone there, reclined on the bed with his arms behind his head, earphones in, humming gently as he stared at the ceiling. You had never seen him before, but boy did you wish you did. His dark hair was splayed over the pillows, a smile ghosting his full lips. He was dressed in all black, much like you but unlike your lace bodysuit and skinny jeans, he was wearing a boxy back t shirt with ripped jeans, his feet in those questionable toe socks. And he was buff, even though his body was mostly covered you could make out the muscle in his arms, one of which had intricate tattoos etched on to. You’re unaware how long you stared at this stranger, but suddenly he turns his face looking at you. Seeing you there he immediately jumps up, pulling his earphones out, startling you in turn.

“I- I’m sorry. Y-you can’t be h-here,” he stutters out, a soft blush rising up his cheeks as he nervously pulls at his ear.

“I should be saying that to you. Why are you in Jin’s room?” You shut the door, leaning on it, feeling oddly territorial.

“I- Hyung needed my room.” You found the stuttering boy in front of you endearing. Something about how he bashfully stared at anything but you while speaking made you want to hug him.

“Oh my god! You let him into your room? Drunk during a party?” You almost scream, but lower your voice seeing the alarm on his face. Walking over, you sat next to him, a few feet away so as not to make him uncomfortable. “Do you like doing laundry or something?” you joked.

Hearing your question the boy perks up, looking at you with a bright smile that made your heart skip a beat. “I do actually! How did you know?” he asks excitedly. You almost felt bad bursting his bubble.

“I didn’t… It’s just - you know Jin’s probably having sex in there right?” You look at the abject horror on his face in sympathy, so you try to change the subject. “Nevermind. Why are you hiding in here?”

“I’m not hiding. I just got bored. Everyone there just wants to hook up or get blackout drunk.”

“You do realise which frat you’re part of right?”

“I know,” he chuckles, seemingly more relaxed as he lays down on the bed, his feet still on the floor. “I honestly didn’t even wanna join but I’m a legacy so my dad really wanted me to be a part of it, Beta Tau pride and all.”

“Not to be a bitch, but dude you sound like a protagonist of a shitty college romcom,” you laugh looking down at him as he smiles, crossing your legs on the bed as you turn towards him, forcing yourself to ignore how cute he looks from this angle.

“You think you’re being a bitch, but that's a great compliment. I wish my life was a romcom. It’d be so easy…”

“Okay, emo. What’s wrong?”

“You’re going to think it’s dumb.”

“Hey I don’t even know your name! What have you got to lose?”

“Fine. There’s this girl I like and we always call each other… Well I call her.... at this time, but she didn’t pick up. So yes I’m emo, and yes I wish I was in a romcom so I’d go downstairs and randomly run into her.” He looks at you with a sad smile, shrugging slightly, and you feel yourself deflate. Not that you were interested in him or anything. You were sure it was just the alcohol in your system making you feel extra empathetic. Yup that’s it.

“Hey, that’s not stupid,” you say gently. “What if she’s down there did you check?”

“Well… I don’t actually know what she looks like… So, no…”

“Oh then maybe you should call her again! What if she was busy?”

“I don’t wanna be pushy, you know? I’m not even sure she thinks of me the same-”

“YO DIXIE! You in there?” A loud knock booms through the room accompanied by a deep voice. The attractive stranger next to you rolls his eyes before standing up, and at hearing his nickname you feel your heart kickstart, racing as you blink in disbelief. It can’t be…

“Dixie?” you stutter out.

“What’s up dude?” He opens the doors talking to Taehyung, one of the other Beta Tau brothers, as they start talking about something. You can barely hear their conversation, your brain full of scenarios and questions, your face crimson. You never thought you’d meet Dixie in real life. Do you tell him? Do you just run away? Why did he have to be so hot?!

Taehyung notices you on the bed for the first time and in typical fashion starts hollering and high-fiving Dixie. “Damn dude! The president’s best friend! Good for you!” He snickered as Dixie looked at him with his mouth agape, before turning to you. “Ay Y/N. Treat our boy JK well okay? He’s too nice for you!”

“Fuck off hyung!” JK, apparently that’s his name, shoves Taehyung as he grins widely before wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and shutting the door, seemingly getting all that he came for.

“You’re Dixie…?” You stare up at him, standing up as you try to control the overwhelming urge to wrap your hands around him. Fuck, maybe Joon was right you did have a crush on your voice pen pal.

“I- Y/N?” He looks at you, mirroring your wide eyes. “The same Y/N I’ve been talking to?”

“Call me,” you almost whisper.

“What?”

“Call me so I know it’s real.” You move closer holding your phone up as he pulls his out of his pocket to dial your number. Your phone rings, displaying a set of numbers instead of unknown for the first time, and the two of you just stare at the vibrating device in your hand. It seems like time stood still, the air thick with tension as your shitty ringtone bounces off the walls. That is until you start laughing. Not giggling, full on laughing, holding your stomach as tears spill down your face, as JK looks at you in alarm, his arms hovering near you as you double over.

“Holy shit! You are the protagonist of a romcom!” You finally wheeze out as you hold his arm for support, while he looks at you with a frown. You’re unsure why this was your reaction, but you recover quickly to start your interrogation.

“So what’s your name Dixie or JK?”

“Jungkook, actually. Dixie’s my gamertag and JK is just what Jin hyung calls me.”

“How did you get my number?”

“Umm… I might have stolen it from hyung’s phone…”

“Why?”

“Because he prank called my friends first.” He spoke with a pout, and you swear your heart forgot to function.

“Why keep calling?”

“Really Y/N? You’re gonna interrogate me?” He raised an eyebrow at you.

“Keep talking Dixie!” You chuckled as his shy demeanor gave way to the Dixie, well the Jungkook, you knew. It was weird how fast the earlier awkwardness dissipated into comfort.

“What? I thought you sounded pretty! Sue me!” He shrugged, leaning back against the door, his hands in his pocket. Your eyes followed the movement, momentarily distracted by how his forearms flexed. Clearing your throat, you continued as he smirked, not missing the way your eyes seemed to be roaming his body.

“You said you were trying to call the girl you like. So you like me?” You try to sound as matter of fact as you could, but your voice wavered slightly at the last part as you made the mistake of looking at his face. He tilted his head, causing his hair to fall into his eyes that were boring holes into you, his smirk getting larger. Oh how you wished he turned back into the boy talking about how much he liked laundry.

“I thought it was obvious. I call you every night.” He stood straight, taking a step towards you causing heat to creep up your face at his sudden confidence. You don’t respond as he moves closer, causing his steps to falter. “Do you like me?” he asks, his voice a little smaller. You’re getting whiplash from the changes in his tone, but his question makes you feel warm. You haven’t felt this way in a long time, there’s butterflies in your stomach, your hands feel clammy, and you’re sure you can feel the heat off his body, so aware of where he stands merely inches away from you.

“I think so…” you move closer and he raises his hand as if to hold your hip but stops, hovering just centimeters away as looks at you, his gaze smouldering.

“What’ll make you sure of it?” he asks in a whisper, and before you can even comprehend the question, you are leaning up on your toes to press a light kiss against his lips. His lips are slightly chapped and you’re sure he can feel your heartbeat through them. Your skin tingles where he brings his hand on your hip, gently holding you. He doesn’t push you further, just leans his forehead on yours when you separate to whisper quietly, “This.”

“And?” His nose brushes against yours as you place your hand on his chest, his pounding heart mimicking yours. He slowly rubs his hands on your hips where they lay, and it’s like your skin is electrified.

“I’m sure,” you say as he crashes his lips on yours, pulling you closer as your arms snake around his neck. His reaction is much stronger this time as he moves his lips against yours feverently. He pulls you flush against him, your body molding against his hard muscles. His hands grip at your hips as he licks lightly at your lip, groaning as they part. It seems like he can’t decide what to do with his hands, roaming them over your sides, relishing the little moan you make as one of them cups your ass. His earlier shyness disappears, and who are you to resist him, as your hands in his hair pull him closer. It’s like everything finally makes sense, why you could never ignore his calls, why your heart raced whenever you heard him call your name through the static of your speaker. You had spent this whole time convincing yourself that he was just a stranger you could vent to when it was clear to you now that you were falling for him.

He whispers your name as you break apart, but his mouth continues down your jaw to your neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. His teeth drag across your collarbone, and you whimper at the way he soothes it with his tongue as you press your body even closer into his.

“Hey Y/N! Joon’s looking for you!”

The two of you break apart at the interruption, chest heaving and faces flushed. Looking up at Jungkook, you smile as he looks away shyly, his lip caught between his teeth, before turning to your best friend who is excitedly hopping in the doorway.

“I knew you would get along with JK!” Jin exclaims as you look once again at Jungkook before you both break out in a laugh. Trust Jin to know who you’d fall for before you. He comes up to pat his frat brother on the shoulder before his proud smile turns into a glare, warning the two of you that his room was for sleeping only and abruptly kicking you out.

The two of you giggle as you make your way downstairs, unable to keep your hands off of each other, going from holding hands to hugging to sneaking kisses in the kitchen as you make your drinks. Before the night ends the two of you end up sitting in the backyard, kissing under the stars and planning your first date later that week, even though it felt like you had known each other an eternity.

You had never felt luckier to pick up a random phone call.

#bts fic #bts fanfiction #jungkook fluff #jungkook smut #btsholidaybingo #thebtswritersclub #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #jungkook x yn

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mggpleasedontlookhere · 4 years

Text

adams

request: Hi! I have a request, could you do one where the reader is a part of the BAU team, and she’s dating Spence, and she’s watching him interrogate Cat Adams, and she has to hear her say that she’s pregnant with Spence’s baby? Thanks!

for: @mggbler

word count: 2,965 reading time aprox: 11 mins

a/n: so i’m back? also another thing, if you are requesting an imagine, id really appreciate it if you had your username listed as it will be much easier to tag you, but it is whatever you’re comfortable with <3

masterlist

My fingertips drummed against the cool concrete frame that lined the two-way window. My feet were firmly planted on the hard floors of the prison as I gazed intensely at the scene before me. An ember lit aflame inside of me as Cat Adams tantalizingly edged closer towards Spencer, diminishing the proximity between their faces. Every tedious inch she took, I dissociated farther and farther away into my headspace; although I could still hear her pretentious tone through my earpiece as she brushed her fingers against Spencer’s eyelids.

“Close your eyes”

This is bullshit.

“Good, now keep them shut. Sit back and relax”

I turned my head aside to look away, pinching the inner crevice of my elbow to regain my sense of reality. My composure was noticeably calm on the exterior, something I’ve picked up in the years of working at the BAU, but the expanding coil of indignation continued to wind as time passed.

My patience had always been one of my greatest virtues, yet Cat Adams was able to deteriorate that virtue with her nonchalant fingers softly grazing the skin of Spencer’s hands, the licking of her lips as she whispered suggestive words on his neck, and that flame in her eyes that convinced her she was all-powerful.

“Now when you open your eyes...I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months”

I breathed through my lips, reassuring myself of Spencer’s affections. Yet an insurmountable amount of insecurity peaked into the bottom of my stomach, clawing its way up to my throat. I felt restrained within my own skin, combating the urge to pick and pry at the flesh.

“If she touches…” I muttered to myself, biting the inside of my cheek as my words trailed off into uncomfortable anticipation.

“You’re here! You’re really here” Cat celebrated, welcoming Spencer in her chaotic delusion. A mischievous grin appeared on her lips, Spencer fabricating a benevolent facade as he let himself grow comfortable in her scheme.

“There is nowhere else I would rather be” Spencer replied with many endeavors, sending a chilling shot through my chest.

It’s fake...it’s all fake

“You’re good at this...you’re so good at this” Cat shook her head, gazing at Spencer with much admiration and recognition. “I almost believe you don’t want to kill me” She teased.

“I don’t want to kill you” Spencer hastily admitted, replicating Cat’s gaze of fervor. As ironic as it seemed, it became a game of cat and mouse. Who would concede first?

“What if I let your mother die?” Cat blurted out, gauging at Spencer’s reaction to her explicit words. But to no avail, Spencer expressed no tells or twitches that would give away his robust collectedness. “Then would you kill me?” She continued.

Spencer stared at her with an unimpressed look, unfazed by the mention of his mother. A small smirk resided on the corners of his supple lips, raising his eyebrows in a lack of interest as if the lifeless walls of the room seemed blasé.

“Oh...my mistake” She paused, chuckling to herself as a devious Cheshire grin appeared on her lips. “What about Y/N?” She spat.

How did she…

The once present smirk on Spencer’s face faltered, yet he remained his fortitude. He closed in on her, peering at her in suspicion. “What about Y/N?” Spencer reiterated, using reverse psychology to throw her off.

Cat pushed herself off the edge of the table, leaning back into her chair with an impervious attitude. “Cut the crap Spencie, I know about your little romance” She taunted humorously, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know about the little pet you keep around” She badgered, causing a chink off of Spencer’s armor to be revealed.

My fists clenched beside me, absorbing the evident frustration coursing through my veins. I cringed as I bit down on the muscle of my cheeks, the taste of metal coating my tongue momentarily. I kept myself grounded for the sake of the interrogation, but if the life of Diana and Spencer wasn’t on the line, I would be the one interviewing the psychotic bitch myself.

“I thought we were supposed to be talking about my mother” Spencer breathed out, leaning back in his chair to cover up for his slip in character.

“You know what’s the best part, Spencie?” Cat leaned over the table, ignoring the words Spencer had previously spoken and hovered a few inches away from his ear. For a moment she deviated her focus from Spencer and directed it towards the two-way glass. Even in the split second, she broke away from her main target, you could see the mischief and ego festering in the pit of her eyes. “I know she’s watching us...I know how much it’s killing her just watching us” Cat seduced, trailing her fingertips suggestively up Spencer’s arm.

Spencer tore his shoulder away from her roughly, pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves in a sensible manner. “You said you wanted to play a game earlier,” Spencer reminded her, battling the urge to prove Cat wrong and reassure the woman on the other side of the glass. “Is it the same as last time?”

“Oh Spencie…” Cat sighed, retracting herself back to her seat. Suddenly her stare drifted back to the two-way glass, and with as much authority she can harbor, she peered through the mirror with much affliction. “I can’t wait till she finds out about Mexico” She blurted out in faux innocence.

This pricked at Spencer’s ears, leading him to profile the words that spilled out her mouth. “What happened in Mexico?” He inquired, pressing her on the missing fragments of his whereabouts that lead to his arrest. She simply tiptoed around his request, taunting him as she refused to take her blazing eyes off the glass.

A loud bang reverberated off the walls. This caused Cat’s attention to halt as it shifted towards the source of the ringing sound, only to find out that it was Spencer’s hand harshly slamming against the table. “What happened in Mexico?” Spencer reiterated once again, but this time his tone barely held back the chagrin clouding his rationality. The booming volume of his usually gentle voice complimented the aftershock of the wood beneath his palm as it still rattled underneath his force.

“Are you getting a little aggressive Spencie? I didn’t even know you were capable of that” She mocked, tucking her arms to her side while her hands roamed the circumference of her stomach. Spencer glared at her incredulously, deciding that he had enough of her drudging ploys. He pushed his chair back, making the motion to get up and leave the room, but before he had the opportunity to stand up, two words were revealed into the already perturbed air.

“I’m pregnant,”

Spencer froze in his spot, taking a moment to breathe before shaking his head and proceeding towards the door. I scoffed in disgust, waiting for Spencer on the other side of the door. Even for Cat this was low.

I can’t imagine anyone using pregnancy for their own gai-

“...actually we’re pregnant, Spencie”

Everything stilled. Oxygen refused to fill my lungs and my blood ran cold. The same seemed to occur with Spencer as his feet were motionless like he was stuck in a fragment of time. The words kept passing through me like waves echoing from a cymbal, only this time it was endless. No matter what I did, the words never resonated in my head. I became deaf, some may say that I was in denial. But I heard it. I heard it slip past as a whisper on her lips.

I felt numb for what seemed like an eternity. But it was that same numbness that I wished never went away, so I wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming sickness that came after. My stomach boiled with an uncomfortable sensation. The ringing descended into the quiet of my mind as clarity began to flood my consciousness.

That’s not...that’s not possible

Cat did it. She found a way--a loophole.

Can it be possible?

I suppressed the paralyzing thoughts into a small compartment of my mind, letting a small murmur of reason dictate my actions. With naive hope, I rushed to a guard to request a Cat’s health records with much haste. After the small interaction, all I could do was wait.

Wait for answers. Wait for the truth.

Yet again my virtues were being tested. I thought the first time I would harbor an immense uneasiness over pregnancy, it would be my own. I was imprisoned in my own doubts and speculation, but I can’t even begin to comprehend the thoughts that are permeating the dark place of Spencer’s mind.

What does this mean for me and...

No, I can’t think like that. She’s probably lying.

But what if…

I shook the thoughts out of my head, focusing on the grey-tinted walls that surrounded me. I forced myself to fixate on how the overhead light reflected on the shiny tiles beneath my feet, while I let the background noises of an operating prison engulf my sense of hearing.

But nothing could ever prevent my buried thoughts from climbing out from the back of my subconscious. Nothing could stop the anticipation that coursed through my veins, threatening to stop my heart altogether.

Nothing could’ve stopped me from knowing.

The cold zing of the walls was the only thing that tethered me to reality. I felt the way my hip bones would shift under my weight as I sat motionless in the hallway. I felt the pressure and ache that began to build under my knees as they were pressed against my chest. A heavy film cast over my eyelids, making it exhausting for me to keep them open. There was an agonizing shackle tugging at my chest, restraining me from taking a fresh breath. I was battered and beaten, not physically, but mentally.

With two words, Cat Adams had managed to send me spiraling down a sinkhole that I didn’t know how to get out of. I was stuck, encased in my own headspace. I didn't know what was worse: being in prison or being imprisoned by the person you detested the most.

I thought the worst was over when she confessed to her pregnancy. I thought the anguish that I experienced hit its climax. But little did I know that the growing hole in my chest only consumed me further when I found out she was telling the truth.

In bold letters, ‘pregnant’ was displayed on the front of her health records. Now they were measly tossed to the floor in a flurry of confusion and anger.

A choked breath emerged from my esophagus, finally feeling the full impact of the circumstances that I was in the middle of. I was furious, dazed, and somber simultaneously, and I didn’t know if it was for me or Spencer.

Spencer…

Does he know it's true? Would he know?

He wouldn’t have chea…? No, he wouldn’t

As if it was the answer to my inquiries, the clatter of footsteps resounded from the head of the hallway, the clacks against the floor growing in volume as they approached me. Stunned by my own senses, I didn’t even notice the sight of grey fabric coming in from my peripheral view.

It was only until I heard the rhythmic beat of the footsteps faltering in a slower pace till they stopped completely. Suddenly, a tender hand apprehensively reached out from beside me. Warmth instantly radiated off its palm as it battled with the chilled temperature of my skin. Then, a voice, belonging to Spencer, followed the small gesture in a quaint and reserved tone.

“I…” He paused, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I know I haven’t talked about Mexico--or prison for the matter. I know that sometimes I close myself up in a box and hideaway, and you tell me it's okay if I’m not comfortable,” He swallowed his words for a moment, staring at his sprawled-out legs in front of him as he struggled to find the right words. “But I also know how much it hurts you when I do…” He uttered out. “I know that it hurts you when JJ’s the only person I can talk to about what happened” He turned his head to gauge my reception, but all I could bring my attention to was the soreness in my chest at his mentions.

“Did you know?” I meekly whispered.

“I don’t...I don’t know” Spencer answered unsurely. His voice seemed depleted of any assurance he carried with him when it came to his knowledge. I guess that was a common denominator between us in the present circumstance. “I don’t...I don’t know what she did” He sucked in a sharp breath, careful to let his words teeter around the break in his voice.

“She’s really pregnant Spence…” I muttered, squeezing the clutch he had on my hand. “It’s gonna be okay Spence. I know you would never…” My voice trailed off into the uncertainty of my words, yet the hope that was latched onto me prevailed. “There’s more to this, I know it” I stated with much determination.

“What if it’s...it’s mine?” He gasped, a melancholy air following his statement.

“Well, you didn’t, you know-”

“No, I--I would never” He finished the sentence, racking his head for clues.

“Then there has to be someone el-”

“She did something,” Spencer cut me off. “When I was in there, she told me that Lindsey--she got me to…”. By the wavering of his voice, I knew where this was headed. “A-and she told Lindsey to pretend that she was you…” He scoffed, shaking his head in self-reproach.

“Spence…” I tried to stop him from his own demise, but I knew the second he started sputtering words, there would be no mercy to it.

“She started mocking you and my mom, and that’s when...I don’t--I” He paused, licking his lips. “I felt so angry--more than I’ve ever had in my life--and I just,” He retracted his hand from mine in an instant, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. “I pushed her Y/N. I pushed her against the wall and I started--gosh--I started choking her Y/N”. The structure of his tone fizzled out into a meek mumble, an indication that he was battling his internal demons.

The guilt and agony on his face were enough to devastate an entire colony. So much weight and history hung on the surface of his shoulders that it was starting to deteriorate. “I’m...I’m scared that this is who I am now” He lamented, picking at the small pebbles that littered the floor.

“No, don’t say that” I protested.

“Y/-Y/N, you don’t know…” He sighed.

“I do know” I affirmed, reaching out to clasp his hand in mine once again. “I know you had to do things in prison, things you aren’t proud of, but anyone in your position would have done the same-”

“You wouldn’t have”

“Yes. Yes, I would have Spence” I remarked. “If someone threatened my life, if...if someone threatened my chance of seeing you again...”. I placed a gentle hand under his chin, making our eyes meet. “You bet your ass I would. It doesn’t make you a bad person” I finished my spiel, looking into his dull eyes in the hopes he would recognize that I meant every word.

“Then why do I feel like this? I’ve let down the team, my mom, and you…”

I cupped his face in my hands, although he refused to look at me in the eyes. “Spence,” I breathed. “You have not done a single thing to disappoint anybody” I shook my head as my voice trembled under the weight of the conversation. “If you disappointed anyone, then why is the entire team working to get this psychotic bitch on death row? Why are they trying to save your mom? Why do I love you?” I professed, every endearing word flowing out of my lips with ease.

Silence encompassed both of us, but the dense atmosphere still created an evident divide. Suddenly, he met my eyes with his solemn ones, but something was different. A minuscule glint of prospect flashed in the pool of his irises. The color and life began to emerge from the dreariness of his countenance and the warmth of his skin began to crimson his cheeks. A relieved gasp escaped my lips as he peered at me with much endearment.

“Do you really think that?” He whispered. I nodded in response, taking my bottom lip into my teeth as I took in the beauty of his rejuvenating presence. From there I knew Spencer would slowly fill up again. I knew it was going to be hard, but I also knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to take every step with him.

“I know that everything isn’t clear right now Spence. But I think--I know--that you’re the only person here that can solve this”

“You’re wrong” He breathed.

I stared at him with a baffled expression, encouraging him to continue his position.

“I can’t...I wouldn’t be able to do all of this,” He rested his hand on the apple of my cheek, caressing the supple skin with his thumb. “...not without you”

taglist: @rexorangecouny @howdycharlie @linthebinbag @honeymilk-4 @andreasworlsboring101

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lettrespromises · 4 years

Text

PLAN À TROIS.— TODOROKI, BAKUGOU.

A.N:

❝ dear reader,

why hello it is i, nikki, back at it again. this post was specifically written thanks to @sasukelore’s big brain, meaning that this one is for the boys with the booming system, top down, AC with the cooler system😔✊🏻. it’s my first attempt at writing smut (which means it’s a direct ticket to hell) so please bare with me, i hope you’ll like it! if you have any feedback, please feel free to send it to me! also, my requests are open for business hehe.

sincerely yours,

nikki.

P.S: “plan à trois” has a double meaning— it means “threesome” in french but it also literally means “a plan involving three people” which is the core of the story, both literally and figuratively. ❞

Genre: Smut. (All three of the characters have been aged up.)

Warnings: Cursing, mentions of drugs (but no actual use of drugs), unprotected sex (please use a condom), nudity, spanking, choking, cunnilingus, blow-job, temperature play, threesome, dirty things.

Word count: 6.5k (she’s a big girl, don’t be shy.)

Letter object: One hotel. One gala. One mission. One person to take down. Three heroes. You and Shoto have to play the perfect fake couple to gain your enemy’s trust, the only thing is, Shoto has no clue how to behave as a couple. The unexpected help comes from Ground Zero who seems a bit too impatient and eager to show Shoto how to really treat a lady.

Metaphorically speaking, the heroes are seen as the predators and the villains as the preys, it’s always been that way— an eternal game of hide and seek, which only ends in binary results, either victory or loss. The latest news concerning the hero world had put this little game to a halt: the hushed rise of the anti-quirks drugs were concerning. The enemy was everywhere and nowhere, it was all whispers, a thread of ‘who said what’, mere illusions replaced authentic clues. The rules of the game had been changed into a paradox where the villains became the predators and the heroes were deemed as the preys.

The rule of silence, which could have easily been personified as the ringleader of this dystopic scenario, was cruel— anyone could be suspected of being a link of the drug chain. But fret not, if you were suspected and voices started to echo around louder and louder, a little bit of hush money was the price to pay to reinstate the rule of silence. Anyone could be a culprit, even (or mostly) into the highest spheres of society. Those who are worshipped in an agnostic way, they were on top of the social food chain and, perhaps even, on top of the drug chain. These elites have been very vocal about their will to suppress the almighty authority pro-heroes possess— feeling threatened for their own sake and their own inferiority complex, they were willing to play dirty to be able to rule the country with an iron fist.

The corrupted elites still remained as elites and enjoyed their mondane occupations— galas being one of them. It was a dream opportunity for you as a pro-hero, a room crowded with highly potential culprits served on a silver plate with a cup of champagne to serve as the cherry on the cake.

Stealth missions were highly dangerous if you didn’t have a cover good enough, and treading on the playground of influential people could possibly cost you your career as a pro-hero, but if you managed to succeed, you were bound to bask in glory. Keeping a realistic cover is the number one check on the list entitled “how not to blow up your whole mission and be hated by the rest of the country.” Luckily enough, your agence had already done all the dirty work for you and sent you everything you needed— a flawlessly cut evening attire, a shockingly well-done fake ID and a full file regarding the background of your character, all down to the tiniest details. And I cannot emphasize enough “all” the details...

“Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me…” Amongst the myriad of details (and some of them were completely unnecessary, I mean, was your favorite fruit really important?), one of them was impossible to ignore. “Shoto Todoroki, really?” His name rolled off your tongue for a reason, you were supposed to play his pseudo fiancée for the night. Your thumb brushed the surface inked with his name, unconsciously wishing that if you were brushing hard enough, his name would disappear and so would your almost wilted high school crush on him.

Your silent complains were cut short, the sound of someone knocking on your door stirred you from the invasion of your thoughts. Then the knocking sound echoed once more. “Just a second!” Has anyone heard of the concept of patience? Waiting a few seconds for someone to open the door isn’t a inhuman task. Eventually (although it could’ve have been funny to let this mysterious person fume because you purposefully took too long), you opened the door to your hotel room and it just felt like you had welcomed a storm in. Much to your surprise, there were two surprise guests, two U.A alumnis just like you— Shoto and Ground Zero.

“Well, shit, were you planning on letting us fucking die in the hallways, woman?! What the fuck took you so goddamn long, ha?” When I mentioned a storm earlier on today, I meant Bakugou Katuski— his annoyance was transcripted upon his face through the frowning of his eyebrows and the wrinkle sitting between them. “It’s good to see you too Bakugou, glad to see you missed me after all this time.” His hands were shoved in his pockets, clearly not keen on listening to your sarcastic remarks nor wearing a tuxedo for the night. “Tch. Keep your smart ass talk to yourself, dumbass.”

You had indeed let a storm invade your hotel room. But unbeknownst to you, you had also welcomed a hypotizing breeze, the polar opposite of Bakugou, and apparently future fiancé for the night: Shoto Todoroki. His facial expression reflected nothing but pure serinity, a signature stoic face which radically clashed with Bakugo’s scowl. Todoroki was so discreet, almost blending his presence with the newfound silence. He was wearing an evening suit of his own, aquamarine was his color after all, it was a known fact since your high school years.

“Y/N, as you may be aware, I am here for the stealth mission. Bakugou is going to accompany us just in case something goes wrong. It was a last minute change, but considering the household names who are going to attend this gala, too much precaution is better than not enough.” Ohh, so that was the reason why the angry gremlin was here. Although, you wondered how Shoto felt about the two of you acting as a fake engaged couple, was he still serene about that? “Yeah, while you two fake lovebirds will be busy eating each other’s faces off, I’m gonna be around to check if there is any intell on these anti-quirk selling bastards.” Each of his word was accompanied by a hand gesture pivoting between you and Shoto and, of course, the same old look of annoyance plastered upon his face. You and Shoto, on the other one hand, appeared a bit surprised at the use of “fake lovebirds”, it just hasn’t sunk in yet... Denial, perhaps?

“Speaking of kissing and shit— you, half and half bastard, do you still have a fucking stick up your ass or do you know how to act in a relationship?!” His interrogation was accompanied with a daring glance thrown in Todoroki’s direction and an eyebrow lifted just to emphasize the characteristic of his question a bit more. A bold question which immediately found its answer from the mouth of Todoroki, needless to say, you felt this remark coming. “Bakugou, you’re the last person here who could pretend having the knowledge necessary to provide relationship advices.” You couldn’t help but let a laugh escape at Todoroki’s remark highlighted by its bluntness, although you quickly changed your mind once you felt Bakugou’s stare landing on you with such rage causing you to hush your laugh by biting your thumb.

“Ha?! What the fuck did you just say, half and half bastard? Use that fucking mouth for yours for good measure and let’s see if you can kiss Y/N correctly. I won’t let this mission be blown up by your stupid ass.” This time, there was a hint of amusement in Bakugou’s voice, it was hard to distinct if he asked that because he truly cared about the mission or if he just wanted to push Todoroki out of his comfort zone. But the ghost of a smirk drawn upon his face seemed to support the second hypothesis.

“Guys, just a second here. I understand why we have to take care of our cover but it’s not like Todoroki and I are going to kiss all night long.” Your gaze alterned between Todoroki and Bakugou, it became impossible to hold your gaze on a fix structure due to how flustered you felt, and soon enough, your cheeks were quick to adopt a rosy tone. “Y/N, are you scared of kissing me by any chance?” You secretly hated the obvious tone of concern in Todoroki’s voice, he was willing to do anything to make this mission a success but also make sure you were comfortable around him. “N-No! It’s just… I don’t mind it.” What a miracle, you finally managed to look at him in the eyes but the blush on your cheeks was as lively as ever. “Then damn, if you don’t mind it just fucking kiss already we don’t have all night, dumbass.” You could tell by Bakugou’s body language that he was growing more and more impatient by the second, his arms were crossed over his chest— he was getting pissed.

Todoroki captured your attention once more when his index brushed the surface of your skin right below your chin while his thumb was carefully set upon your jawline. His orbs shone by their gleam of reassureance, his eyes met yours, as a silent way to ask your for permission and you fluttered your lids shut as an answer. As if it was some kind of second nature to him, his other arm compassed your waist in order to bring you close to him. His lips finally touched yours. Each one of his actions was so soft, you could barely feel them yet, you felt like you were floating on a cloud. His lips were melting ever so perfectly with yours, as if your lips were the sole one which could fit is, you couldn’t help but to hum as the carefulness of his lips overwhelmed you. The kiss was shy, experimental, and yet so agonizing. He was temptingly and agonizingly slow, which only made you crave for more. However, given the lack of oxygen, you had no choice but to (relanctutly) break the kiss. You opened your eyes and basked in Todoroki’s beauty, still in awe at what just happ—… “Oi! Have you ever kissed anyone before, Icyhot? Fucking hell, what was that?!”

Of course this was bound to be expected— the angry gremlin in his natural behavior. You and Todoroki exchanged a look which held a thousand questions before you felt your wrist being caught by a much warmer palm, and eventually, you were yanked straight into Bakugou’s chest (not that you were complaining.) “Open your damn eyes and look, this how you fucking kiss a woman, dipshit.” The sound of his voice roaring against your eardrum made you flinch in the nicest way possible. Bakugou naturally made himself at ease all while maintaining his gaze upon Todoroki who was looking at him in return with a noticeable disdain in his eyes.

Bakugou was challenging him in a way, he perfectly knew that Todoroki was observing his every move, hence why he took the liberty to let his palm roam over the curve of your derrière as a way to taunt him. However, the taunt didn’t last too long not to make you feel uncomfortable. He quickly settled one of his hand on the small of your back (to maintain you as close to him as humanly possible) whilst his other hand was set upon your neck. He didn’t waste any more time and went straight to business.

Bakugou’s kiss was, as expected, a vivid contrast compared to Todoroki’s kiss. While Todoroki’s felt hesitant, caring, sweet… Bakugou’s kiss was rough around the edges and his sole purpose was to make your knees weak. Once he crashed his lips upon yours, he immediately swiped his tongue over the surface of your bottom lip, demanding immediate access to your mouth. You knew better than to upset Bakugou so you pleased and allowed his tongue to explore your mouth— your tongue was at his mercy for a few instants before finding a steady rhythm for you two. His presence was overwhelming— his smell, how close you were to him with nowhere to escape, his mouth, his tongue, everything caused you to rightfully let a moan escape into the kiss. At the sound of it, Todoroki’s eyes widened while Bakugou smirked into the kiss, he knew he made a point. You, in return, started to tug at his blonde hair— the rough atmosphere of the kiss affected your actions as well. Just prior to breaking the kiss, Bakugou’s teeth dug into your bottom lip and applied a few pressures while you were looking at him with pleading eyes to continue. Once he got what we wanted, he ended the kiss with a surprisingly soft peck upon your lips.

With his hand still settled on the small of your back, Bakugou turned to Todoroki’s direction and offered him his biggest smirk to show his secret victory. You were left breathless by the kiss, a series of uneven hot breaths crashed down onto Bakugou’s skin.

If anyone were to walk in your hotel room, they would be able to feel and even touch the graduating tension in the air which almost felt agonizing. The tension was mostly radiating off of the two men, a silent battle for dominance had been declared through glances, holders of pure will to outbest the other.

Todoroki observed the scene on his chair, and unbeknownst to him, Bakugou had indirectly offered him the best seat in the room to watch the manifestation of his talents. An almost inaudible sigh left Todoroki’s lips which translated into a sign of discontentment. “Y/N, come here.” The tone was strict, cold even, and you felt obligated to do as told.

Detaching yourself from Bakugou’s embrace (you could tell he didn’t want to let you go judging from how his palm lingered on your back), you stepped away and made your way to Todoroki, a quizzical look noticeable in the reflect of your eyes. “What now?” You asked. Todoroki gestured to his lap and you knew what it meant, it was a speech without any word necessary.

Paradoxically enough, Bakugou stared at the scenery in front of him in pure silence, and although it was very unlike him, he was mimicking Todoroki’s actions earlier on- he wanted to witness how Shoto was going to respond to his own deeds.

You placed your hands over Todoroki’s shoulders to gain stability before sitting on his lap, it was a foreign feeling, but goodness, it was already addicting as hell and you were not interested in finding a cure. Both of Shoto’s hands crawled on the same spot where Bakugou’s hands used to linger just a few moments ago, you understood rather quickly that he was using his own methods against him. You were the center of Todoroki’s attention, his gaze graced your frame and he was loving the sound of your uneven breath, he wondered if he could make your respiration even more irregular.

He paid no mind to mind to the silent Bakugou who was already fuming in his corner as Shoto delivered a succession of pecks on the delicate flesh of your neck, and you tilted your head just enough to let him play on a wider surface. He traded the pecks for a few daring bites on certain areas, he needed to find your weak spot. “A-Ah... Shoto!” the sound of his name rolling off your tongue coated in such bliss was enough for him to curve his lips into a smirk.

It was a brief moment of peace before he dug his teeth on the same spot and you failed to prevent any whimpers from coming out by biting your lower lip. He knew you were restricting yourself, prisoning these beautiful sounds of ecstasy, and he didn’t like any of it. He focused on your lower lip and rubbed the oh so soft surface with the pad of his thumb to prevent your from biting it, and thus, keeping your sounds of pleasure to yourself.

“Don’t be shy, love. I’m pretty sure both Bakugou and I can agree on the fact that the little sounds you’re making are too divine to be hushed. Will you be a good girl and let us hear the sounds you’re making?” It was as if his voice was coated with honey, just his voice alone was enough to make you feel weak, and if you paid enough attention, you were pretty sure he purposefully blew a fit of cold air onto the skin of your neck. “Yes, please... I’ll be good, so good.” From that moment you knew you were at his mercy and he enjoyed every second of it. “You’re such a good girl for us.”

And so he continued, but it was rougher this time, a harsh contrast compared to his hesitant kiss from just a few moments ago. His teeth dug into the flesh of your skin harder this time, the sole purpose of leaving a mark on your crimson colored flesh was haunting his mind. To accomplish said purpose, Todoroki alternated between biting motions and a few swipes of his tongue on the newly bruised skin. The whimpers coming out of your mouth shamelessly only added fuel to his fire. He knew what he was doing, and you knew just how sensitive this particular area could get.

Once he judged it was enough, he delivered a few pecks on the love bites, a way to kiss his art into your skin. “You’re so perfect, love, so perfect with my name written over your skin.” He whispered between kisses. Your head was thrown back, fingers grasping at the roots of his hair, your mouth agape- your whole body language testified of the addictive effect he had on you.

Such bliss couldn’t last for long, and quickly enough, another voice was being heard, a roar even. “Oi, oi, oi! Don’t even think for a single fucking second that you can have her all to yourself, half and half bastard.” It was almost a miracle that Bakugou had observed you in silence, but as expected, patience was nowhere near his forte. He had already crossed his limit long before you sat on Todoroki’s laps. Bakugou’s eyes were strictly focused on your frame, he was completely under your spell after observing how your chest would rise and fall unevenly to grasp any ounce of oxygen.

Your knees felt weak already, you could only stare at Bakugou and silently ask him to continue, to make you feel even weaker, to make you experience pure bliss. You wanted to say his name, it was right on the tip of your tongue, but as you observed his figure reducing more and more the space between the two of you, you just admired him in silence.

“Hah? What’re you looking at, brat? You want more? Is that it? You want fucking more? Say no more.” You should’ve known that the wicked smirk plastered upon his face was a pre-indicator of what was bound to happen. He lifted you off of Todoroki’s lap, the latter frowned a bit at the lack of your presence on him, and carried you to the bed before dropping you on the mattress. Todoroki was quick to follow from behind and stood right next to Bakugou, his hands already busy taking off his jacket and unbuttoning the first button of his evening shirt. “I’m sure that Bakugou and I can find a little agreement. After all, we can share, correct?” Todoroki’s rhetorical question found its answer once Bakugou let a discreet chuckle escape from his mouth after throwing his jacket God knows where and messily undoing his tie. “We’re gonna take real fucking good take care of you, baby girl.”

You were refraining yourself from already touching you, it took all the strength in the world not to give in to the most passionate temptations. But deep down, you already knew you were bound to be overwhelmed by pure bliss judging by how they were looking at you. You could only hum in response, unsure of how your voice would have sounded under the heavy influence of desire.

Bakugou made the first move, after all, his poor soul felt left alone when Todoroki overwhelmed you with pecks and bites. He crawled over you, his knees were on each side of your waist, his hands however, assured total domination- his right hand clutched your wrists now pinned above your hand while his left palm settled by force on your throat, needless to say, the pressure was already applied on your windpipe. “You wanna’ play that game with me, hah?! Let Icyhot have all of you to himself and I got fucking nothing in return? Babygirl, I don’t watch, I fucking play.” It was too ferocious to be qualified as a whisper, and yet, when Bakugou pronounced the last bits of his sentence right in the shell of your ear, you felt like you were floating in pure bliss. “Answer me.” His grip on your throat felt a bit tighter. “P-Please... Ju-Just do whatever you want... With my body.” The lack of oxygen felt agonizing, you were deprived of fresh air and you were laying on the bed while Bakugou exuded pure confidence and domination, an aura so thick, you wished you could’ve touched it. “That’s my babygirl.”

As Bakugou’s lips crashed onto yours, forcing its tongue into your mouth while maintaining the right amount of pressure on your throat to offer you a panorama of new sensations, Todoroki had already gotten rid of his shirt. If you paid close attention, you could see shy flames on his shoulders, he was absolutely adoring the scenery unfolding before him. Everything about you filled his senses, the sight of you giving in to Bakugou was nothing short of divine, the whimpers leaving your mouth in cascade whether the reason was the lack of air or the fierceness of Bakugou’s intentions was the sweetest melody he had ever heard. Everything was perfect.

You felt the oxygen become one with your body again once Bakugou broke the kiss and allowed his hand to travel from your neck down to your chest, but his eyes were never leaving yours. He wanted to watch you come undone under his touch, he swore it to himself.

“I’ll take the bottom half. Icyhot, I don’t give a damn about what you do, just don’t fucking interrupt me.” His eyes were already set on the prize, your heat in all its glory. Shoto said nothing in response, you were the holder of all his undivided attention. As Bakugou took a firm grasp of your thighs, opening the way to his newfound purpose, Todoroki took over the top half of your body- he started by planting a succession of pecks from your lips down to your collarbone, passing by your neck, and each kiss was amplified by the cold air he was blowing on the surface of your skin. The contrast in temperature cause you to allow a few whimpers to escape, you already knew you craved for more, it was a way of manifesting it.

“You won’t need that, will you, love?” He said while pointing at your shirt, as his index was already hooking the fabric. It was a rhetorical question of course, you simply answered by humming. Your silent response was the only thing necessary for Shoto to send your shirt flying somewhere in the room. He continued his trail of kisses down to the valley of your breasts, the same cold air following him as he went.

Bakugou, on the other one hand, had already gotten rid off your skirt, but not before letting his palms explore the generous cheeks hidden underneath it, and eventually, leaving a slap right on this area which caused you to yelp in surprise. The pad of his thumb was already brushing against the surface of the fabric, oh what a pleasure it was when he felt the sensation of humidity coming through your underwear. A sensation so good, so addicting, so divine that it brought a sly grin to his face. “Already so wet for us, babygirl? You’re not wasting your damn time, hah?” Your skin was burning under his touch, you could already feel the chills running down your spine and he hadn’t even taken off your underwear yet.

Todoroki took the strap of your bra between his thumb and index, and much to your suprise, he used the right amount of his quirk to burn the fabric and applied the same treatment to the other strap. Before you could even protest about the poor outcome of your bra, he planted his lips on your own to keep you quiet. Now, he focused his attention to your breasts and the bits of clothing left which prevented the upper half of your body from being fully exposed. He took the opportunity given by Bakugou who had gotten rid of your underwear which made you arch your back to unclip your bra. There was nothing stopping him now. He let his gaze fell on you, so full of adoration, while he leaned down and caught the last piece of fabric remaining of your bra between his teeth. His eyes held so much envy, so much desires which reciprocated in the reflect of your own orbs.

Shoto threw your bra out of his mouth, and there you were- your body bare in all its glory. “Fuck, you’re so perfect...” He whispered right against your chest, causing you to let out a sigh you didn’t even know you were holding. He used his mother’s inherited side to trace the contour of your breasts, he knew he was going to earn a moan in return and he was so please to hear such a sinful melody at the clash of his cold fingers against your burning skin. His thumb and his index worked in harmony to twist the bud of your nipple and overwhelm it by Shoto’s cold touch while his tongue delivering hot saliva on your skin was already doing wonders on your other breast, a perfect balance between cold and hot which made your arousal erupt even more and someone was quick to notice...

“Oi, doll face, focus on me, not on this goddamn fucker. Don’t you feel so fucking good when I touch you like that, hah?” His burning jealousy amplified the voracity of his deeds. Every single one of his touch served the purpose of pleasuring you, but also outdo Todoroki’s touches. He needed to be the best at everything, including making you melt under his touch. You struggled to keep your eyes open, the desire to close your eyes and let your body attract all the attention while basking in pure bliss was too strong and yet, Bakugou’s voice roared into your mind, you couldn’t help but lay your eyes on him through half-closed lids.

Once he knew he was the bearer of all your attention, he put his body and mind to work. Both of his hands planted your thighs on each side of his body, you felt too weak to move under his touch and did not dare resist the pressure. You whined in advance because you knew what was coming- and boy, did he look good with his face buried between your thighs.

One long, sharp, vertical lick was all it took to let yet another moan escape your lips once more, and to Bakugou, it was the best reward. The heat of his tongue responded to the heat of your core, it was pure harmony. He licked the your core over and over again, tasting you, loving you, worshipping you even. One time he left lingering kisses to the side of your core, another time he was left licking motions all over your folds because your taste was the best thing he had ever felt. His motions echoed to your whines and moans, he was sure of hearing a sinful melody each time his tongue entered in contact with your skin.

“Keep making these noises for me, don’t be fucking shy.” His hot breath on the center of your heat embraced perfectly the succession of his actions, “Y-Yes... P-Please, I want... I need more.” Bakugou couldn’t help but let a low chuckle leave his lips, in response to your needy attitude, he left a harsh slap on the surface of your butt, to which you whined loudly in response. “Such a fucking filthy mouth you have there, hah?” He smiled to himself, knowing perfectly that what he was about to do was bound to leave you as a whimpering mess. Without any warning, he slid two of his fingers inside your core, and fuck, you were tight. His thumb was brushing against your sweet bundle of nerves which had already been cherished by Bakugou’s tongue earlier.

You clutched the sheets of the bed to release some of the buildup pressure inside, it was as if a tornado, a volcano and a firework were exploding at the same time in your stomach, each of them resulting in a series of whimpers and moans at the overstimulation. Your lids were shut close already, yet, they kept fluttering over the invisible crimson touches left by both Todoroki and Bakugou.

Speaking over Todoroki, he was tasting you in such a different way as he started to get the grip of Bakugou’s mechanic. His mind kept roaming and roaming, he knew that just one mark on your neck was not quite enough and he needed to beat Bakugou at his own game- he positioned himself right over your right breast and blew a fit of fresh air, causing him to smile at himself for being the reason of such a reaction, and dug his teeth into your flesh. Motivated by the the way you kept tugging at his hair, he kept biting the same area over and over again until sucking your flesh just enough to create yet another love bite over your breast, such an intimate area, isn’t it? And now his whole name was written on it.

“B-Bakugou... I can’t take it... Ahh! Anymore, please, please...” His fingers weren’t enough anymore, you were pleading his name, begging him to become one with you because you were unsure as to how you were going to keep the unleashed pressure within you ruin you. “So eager for my fucking cock, aren’t you?! You’re gonna count with me each inch entering your fucking cunt, got it?” You were willing to do anything at this point- Todoroki’s bites and his cold touch, Bakugou’s fingers and tongue, it made you fill dizzy but you knew, deep down, you were slowly approaching a pure state of bliss. “Yes... Yes I will.”

For his own purpose, Bakugou took his fingers off your core and flipped you on your stomach so you could be on all fours. You were giving him the view of worthy of a masterpiece: the crimson colored marks on your butt cheeks, the vivid rosy tone of your dripping core, oh he wanted all of you. “Love, don’t you forget that I’m here too, right? Open your pretty mouth for me.” You did as Todoroki preached, opening your mouth for him to stick his index in there. “Suck.” he commanded, to which you obliged by creating hollows in your cheeks and embrace his finger around your tongue, this feeling was beyond perfect, beyond the wildest fantasies his imagination had to offer. He could only let his subconsciousness roam about how his cock would feel around your perfectly pouted lips.

Bakugou’s hands gripped your hips tightly, his fingers turning white in the process while your flesh adopted a reddish tone in response. With the use of the pad of his thumb, he spread the pre-cum leaking all over his length, and so it began: the first inch. “One.”, it sounded more like an order than a statement, “...One.” you echoed, your response didn’t come quick enough to Bakugou’s liking, making you earn a harsh slap on your cheeks in return. Then another inch “Two.” , another faint sound coming from your lips “T-Two...”, yet another slap on your abused flesh. And so it went on, the process remained the same- another inch, another whisper escaping your mouth between sobs, another spank.

On the other side of the bed, Todoroki was stroking his own length at the sight before him. You were on the brim of tears, and Bakugou didn’t show any mercy regarding your current state. “I’m sorry, her mouth is going to be full soon, she won’t have room to count out for you.” Bakugou grunted in response to Todoroki’s taunt. His strokes became gradually faster, like a crescendo if you will. His other hand, however, was placed right underneath your jaw to give you some support and your mouth was already open in anticipation for what was bound to happen.

With his hand to keep your jaw steady, you welcomed Todoroki’s lenght into your mouth and he automatically let a groan as the tip of your tongue caressed his sensitive tip. You imagined how rewarding it must have felt for them to hear your own moans and whimpers because hearing Todoroki’s moan felt like a blessing to your eardrums.

Your tongue circled around his cock, your hand was pumping his length, and Todoroki wondered if this is what heaven looked and felt like. Your whimpers were hushed by the presence of his member in your mouth, but somehow, even these half silenced sounds of pleasure sounded even better to his ears. He felt his lids shut close under the miracle work of your tongue while his hand lingered in your hair to motivate you to keep going.

Bakugou, frustrated by this change of plans due to Todoroki’s own personal pleasure, slid the entirety of his phallus into you abruptly. The shock caused you to remove Shoto’s member from your mouth momentarily to catch your breath and release yet another whine before pleasuring Todoroki again. That came as a surprise to no one, not even Shoto himself, but Bakugou’s pace was rough and almost animalistic.

The sound of his testicles clapping against your flesh testified of the pace and yet, it felt so enticing. Bakugou was not so vocal, but he did leave his fair share of grunts as he buried himself into you more and more until reaching your cervix. It was too much, your core was burning, hell your whole body was on fire. The tears that threatened to fall had put their threat to execution, you knew you were close, the overstimulation was getting the best of you leaving you in a whimpering, trembling mess.

You continued to stroke Shoto’s length with your tongue, but his need to take control took over him. The same hand that rested in your hair suddenly took a firm grasp of your hair and he thrusted himself into your mouth and from there, his grunts became more repetitive. Truthfully, it was the only push he needed to bring him over the edge, the previous work of your tongue had put him under a spell. A spell he never wanted to wake up from. He knew what was coming, you felt it too but how the tip of his phallus was tickling your throat deeper and deeper.

Shoto didn’t even notice the small flames making their apparition on the blades of his collarbone, meaning that it was finally time for him to cum. He set your mouth free and hinted his length towards your chest, letting the drips of cum color your skin, and allowed the most magical moan to leave his already parted lips in satisfaction. “Love, look what you fucking did to me. You’re so beautiful, so beautiful with my cum all over you.” Your first instinct was to fill your lungs with oxygen, something so common yet it was cruelly needed. You looked through your lashes at Shoto with pleading eyes while he looked at you with a glimpse of adoration in his. His digit was carefully wiping the excess of cum leaking down your chin to place it right into your mouth. He could only stare in awe at the sight of you tasting him. He felt so full, and fulfilled. He was finally at peace, soaking in pure bliss.

The grasp Bakugou was holding over your hips became even harsher, which you though was impossible just a few seconds before. “Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He grunted, trying to keep his volume at bay by digging his teeth into his lower lip but it was all too much to be contained. He knew his climax was close, so close that he could picture it if he closed his eyes just for a second. Bakugou’s name fell on your lips like a forbidden prayer, his name had turned into the only thing you were able to say. “I-...Ah! Inside, inside, fuck, please...”, you felt a wave of pleasure taking over your body, a pleasure so intense, no word could have done it justice. Oh well, that was the sole indication he needed to hear before digging his nails into your sides, causing you to arch your back and bite the sheets, already preventing the cascade of whimpers from echoing in the room. “Fucking hell... Cum with me, now.”

With one last thrust, Bakugou came within you, his face was facing the ceiling as he came undone with you. His cum slid within you and in return, your body thanked him by letting your own juice flow all over his length.

Silence invaded the room. No more grunts, no more moans, no more cries. Pure silence inhabited by the uneven breaths of three protagonists who had just touched heaven by the tip of their fingers. Three victims of passion.

Bakugou pulled out of you, earning a whimper in return at the sudden feeling of vacuity. Your legs were shaking, and you secretly thanked every God for allowing you to stay relatively steady on all fours for this long and be able to endure the bestial-like pace of Bakugou. Needless to say, you were panting, you mouth was agape and you were crying for air. Your body immediately crashed onto the mattress, the soft feeling of the sheets enveloping your skin after reaching heaven made you feel as if you were floating on a cloud.

Bakugou and Todoroki shared a look, a small grin even, before crashing down onto the mattress next to you. You were unable to move, your mind was comparable to a wild blur as a result of your orgasm. A rush of words flew through your air but absolutely none of them was powerful and meaningful enough to qualify how you were feeling. At peace? No, not strong enough. Full? Nope, did not carry enough meaning. It was a unique feeling, worthy of all the praises in the world.

Todoroki draped an arm over your waist and left a trail of kisses upon the flesh of your shoulder, a silent way to thank you for allowing him to experience heaven in a rush. Bakugou, on the other one hand, was facing your back and allowed his index to draw invisible patterns on the skin of your back. Paradoxically enough, the silence carried more words and emotions than an actual speech. Until...

“So... Um, about the mission?”

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youwerenevermeanttofeelalone · 3 years

Text

Some People Wrap Their Lies Around a Cocktail Glass | Damian Wayne

And You Sit Wondering Where You’re Going to Turn

✦ pairing — older!Damian Wayne x female!Plus Size Reader

✦ word count — 3.3k

✦ fake dating AU

✦ summary — you need to cover up the fact that your boyfriend broke up with you a week before your step-father’s Christmas party, and Damian needs a date for his father’s New Year’s ball. Both of you are experts at pretending, what could go wrong?

✦ warnings — some angst, mentions of food, Damian and reader are neighbors, a little bit of awkwardness, sprinkles of fluff.

✦ mini series masterlist

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Every time your phone buzzed, you hoped it was him. Such a naive and sick logic, one of a teenager waiting for her crush to text back, was nothing compared with the sobering truth.

Your ex-boyfriend was your ex for a reason. And you would have to face the music on your own.

Your mother was going to be disappointed. Not more than you were. Travis had been a good boyfriend, goofy and nice. He hadn’t been the gentlest person in the world, but you learned to accept that he wasn’t perfect.

You could have fallen for him if he had given you enough time.

Your cellphone rang and the fact that it hadn’t buzzed startled you. A handful of people called you instead of texting you, yet you didn’t have to look at the caller ID to know who it was.

That was your luck. What a horrible week. And it was only Monday noon.

Taking a deep breath, you nodded to yourself and swiped your finger against the screen to take the call. “How is everything going?” you softly greeted your mother.

She sighed. “I will be relieved when the planning is over.” She changed the subject, “Did your boyfriend clear his schedule?”

You breathed out a small laugh. “He did,” you lied. Not even sure if Travis had truly wanted to attend, you lied some more, “He’s excited to meet you.”

“We are excited too. Your uncle said he won’t believe it until he sees it.”

You and him both. As she told you about every guest she was skeptical about showing up, you mentally went through your list of feeble romantic relationships.

Jordan was in town, you had heard about them a few days ago. But asking them to be your date out of nowhere would be embarrassing when the last thing they knew about you was that you were happy in a new relationship.

Liam’s bright blue eyes came to your mind, and you almost had the answer. You hooked up a couple of times after breaking up, and you were friendly enough for you to feel comfortable telling him the truth. The problem was that your mother hated Liam.

The list continued getting shorter and shorter, your anxiety levels higher and higher. You shouldn’t have lied to your mother, but pride was a marvelous and twisted thing and you shared such a stupid little thing with her.

“Have you spoken to your father?” she asked, unbeknownst to her only adding to the pile of regrets and worries.

“Brianna said he’s out of town.”

Your mother grunted. It was clear that both of you knew Brianna had lied. “Well, you’ll see him for New Year’s.”

“I suppose, yes.”

She said your name sternly. “He’s your father.”

He didn’t act like he was. “He hasn’t called in weeks,” you explained. “I am not sure he wants to see me.”

”Your father is a busy man,” she told you. It was like a reflex to her, excusing him even though she had divorced him when you were eight.

Adults and their busy lives, wrapped in their lies and inane promises. You had really tried to be different, but caving in was too easy. What a mess.

“I have to leave you,” she lamented. You could hear that she meant it by the emotion that seeped into her voice. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Have a nice day,” you wished her, voice trembling as anxiety fully kicked in.

The moment the line clicked, you dropped your cellphone onto the sofa. Sniffing, you walked into your bedroom in search of a hair tie.

You needed to keep your hands busy so you could come up with something to say. Or somebody to date.

════════════════════════

Damian’s scrutinizing gaze greeted you as he opened the door. You analyzed his stance and attire, trying to assess whether you had interrupted anything or not.

He stepped back without taking his eyes off you, hand still on the door handle. His hair was damp, and he looked extremely comfortable, wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

He would also have looked approachable if his eyes weren’t so sharp.

“Are you coming in or not?”

You reacted, extending your arms to offer a container to him. “I made cookies earlier.”

He looked down at the container in your grasp, then back up at your face. “Get inside.”

You stepped into Damian’s apartment, used to the minimalistic style that you secretly wished you had chosen for your own place.

At the same time, you liked your apartment. Your mother helped you decorate, and she had impeccable taste.

He placed the cookies onto the coffee table, motioning for you to sit.

Sitting down, you watched him do the same just in front of you. His gaze was still sharp, but he waited for you to speak.

When you didn’t, he said, “I know you bake when you’re stressed.”

“It calms me.”

“You baked a pie two days ago. In the middle of the night.”

“And it was good,” you said immediately. “Right?”

He nodded. “Delicious,” he assured you. “Yet I can’t help but worry.”

You gripped your hair, exhaling harshly. “Holiday stuff.”

“Did you finally come to terms with the fact that all those ornaments look awful?”

“They do not,” you said, quite offended. You had spent an entire weekend decorating the living room. Sighing at the memory of choosing Christmas decorations and ornaments with your now ex-boyfriend, you explained your problem, “Travis broke up with me this past Saturday, and I don’t know how to tell my mother.”

Confusion was clear in Damian’s features. You had expected a comment about how you could find someone better, but not this.

“He was going to attend Leonard’s Christmas party with me.”

Leonard was your step-father. Your mother married him when you were a pre-teen and since then you had never skipped one of his parties or events.

He was the only reason why your mother and you were rich, and your biological father hated you for choosing him.

Money hadn’t been the reason why you took a liking to Leonard, although having everything you wanted and needed was nice, but your father wouldn’t have understood even if he tried.

Damian lifted an eyebrow. You could tell he wished you were joking.

“Too soon, I know.”

“I’m just shocked you planned to take him from all people to such event.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You met him on a dating app and your first date was at a bar,” he reminded you as though that explained everything. Your semblance must’ve shown skepticism because he added, “You are not supposed to take somebody like him to your family’s house unless you hate your family.”

“A lot of people do that and their relationships succeed.”

Damian inhaled sharply, shaking his head. “Does Travis even own a suit?”

“I was going to buy him appropriate clothes, a matching tie, get him a haircut... He hates formal attire.”

“I thought you liked your step-father.”

“I do. That’s why I was finally going to take somebody with me so people wouldn’t ask him why I’m always single and make him uncomfortable.”

He hummed, nodding slowly. “So you wanted him to try and explain why his step-daughter was dating a bad boy caricature. Very reasonable.”

“First of all, some bad guys are attractive. Have you seen The Phantom of The Opera?”

“You didn’t just insult Erik’s skills like that,” he said, offended.

“I’m not comparing him to Travis. It was an example.”

“A poor one at that unless Travis smells as bad as Erik.”

You shook your head. Damian was exaggerating when he said Travis was a bad boy caricature — apart from the fact that he loved wearing leather and sometimes took part in street races, he was a normal guy.

“Besides,” he continued, always eager to be right, “a bad boy and a bad guy aren’t the same thing. I thought you were literate in media.”

It seemed like he would never let go of the fact that you had switched careers when film school got unbearable.

“The point is,” you tried to go back to the topic at hand, “that it could have worked.”

“If you say so,” he said sarcastically. “You didn’t tell me what is it that Leonard usually says when people ask about your love life.”

“That I’m focused on my career or that I like to keep my private life separate from big events.”

Leonard had always been nice to you. He never planned to have children of his own, yet he never complained about you. From the day you met, he tried to befriend you, and eventually, he started to treat you as a daughter. He never made you call him dad unlike your father’s third wife who cried when you refused to call her mom — he never forced you to do anything.

Damian offered you a cookie, but you shook your head and he motioned for you to continue speaking as he took a cookie for himself.

“I lied to my mother earlier and I don’t know what I’m going to do or say, but I would rather eat my own foot than tell her my boyfriend chose to break up with me a week before the day he was supposed to meet her.”

Damian bit into the cookie, and you waited for a comment about how good or bad it was. He stared at you, brow twitching, before he once again made a movement with his hand so you would continue talking.

He knew you too well for your own good. And he also seemed to know that leaving you alone with your mind wasn’t such a good idea when you were in distress.

“I considered calling up an escort and have them pretend to be my partner, but I’m nervous,” you admitted, dropping your hands onto your lap for a second before moving them to rest on the couch, one at each of your sides. “What if that ruins it even more? Such a waste of money. And the embarrassment…”

He silently chewed, eyes focused on you. As he swallowed, he pinched his nose with his free hand. “I’ll do it.”

“You want to pay for the escort?”

Unamused, he clarified, “I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend.”

“I can’t ask that from you, Damian. You have your own events to attend! You said you would spend the holidays at your father’s house.”

He stayed silent, not taking his eyes off you. He then licked his bottom lip and said, “I’ll make you a deal. I’ll be your sweet and loving boyfriend in front of your family and Leonard’s acquaintances, and you’ll be my mysterious and charming girlfriend in front of my family and my father’s acquaintances.”

His offer was reasonable. Pretending was easy for you, meaningless. Leonard and your mother were always clear when they asked you to dress in certain ways or attend boring events — they weren’t expecting you to change, just to fool other people into thinking you were different.

They did the same, and that was enough for you.

Leonard’s smile was fake and tight in public when the only thing you could think about the smiles he gave you around the house was how warm they were.

Your mother was the opposite. You had seen her the happiest with Leonard, but she had always been rather cold as a person. In public, she was a lovely woman, always smiling and laughing.

“We can’t be in two places at once.”

“Father doesn’t celebrate Christmas publicly,” he explained blandly. “You just need to buy a new gown and cancel your plans for New Year’s.”

“For your father’s annual ball?”

“Exactly.”

“I can do that,” you assured him. Or yourself.

That night, as you stepped back into your apartment, you couldn’t help but make a face of disgust.

The ornaments were truly awful. You had gone overboard with everything — at the moment it had felt so good, laughing and drinking with Travis as you filled the living room with colors.

But that wasn’t your style. You didn’t even like colored Christmas lights.

════════════════════════

Despite your best efforts, you couldn’t keep yourself from being nervous. The last time you took somebody to one of Leonard’s big parties had been awkward and uncomfortable, a high school boyfriend who was too eager to impress your family.

Everybody understood because teen relationships usually are awkward and over-the-top. Now you wouldn’t have an excuse, you were an adult with a job and so-called social skills.

The first one was spot on. You had a job, you loved your job — and you didn’t need a job so you never felt pressured.

Your social skills, however, worried you. It was the anxiety playing tricks with your confidence, you knew, yet you couldn’t do anything but indulge it.

A part of you wondered if you would be this nervous if Travis was the one accompanying you. Perhaps you would be in a worse estate, or perhaps he wouldn’t have allowed you to worry.

But you didn’t have time to think about the what if’s. The party would take place the next day.

Time had flown by, you had been busy buying gifts and attempting to wrap them while balancing work and your friends’ own Christmas celebrations.

As though he knew you were a ball of nerves, curled up on the couch with a blanket over your shoulders and hands around your fourth —or was it the fifth?— cup of coffee that evening, Damian knocked upon your door.

You weren’t surprised to see him. He had said you would need to go through a few details before Leonard’s party.

You had barely interacted with Damian throughout the week, but he had assured you he was ready. He even sent you a picture of the tie he bought for the party, wanting to make sure the color was the right one.

His eyes scanned the living room as he made himself comfortable. He didn’t make a comment about the new ornamentation, but the fact that he hadn’t scowled was a good sign.

“I assumed you would be baking in preparation.”

“I’m not that stressed.” You folded the blanket and rested it onto the arm of the couch. “Can I offer you something to drink? Water, coffee, tea, alcohol...”

He shook his head. “Thank you. So, you don’t bake for your family?”

“Oh! I do, but on other occasions. Birthdays, anniversaries...” You sighed, shrugging. “Private things.”

A few times your mother had encouraged you to bake your father a birthday cake, but he rarely spent his birthday in town so that was even rarer.

“Have you already made our story up?”

“I suppose we should stick to the truth for the most part. Neighbors, then friends, and then...”

“Are you going to awkwardly tell your mother you’re dating me or are you just messing with me?”

”it’s hard for me to lie to my mother,” you explained, abashed. “It’s even worse if I have her in front of me.”

Damian stood up and opened an arm. “Come here.”

“I don’t need you to comfort me.”

He scoffed. “I’m not trying to comfort you. Come.”

You stood in front of him, looking down at his hand. “You want me to take it?”

“No. Well, perhaps...” He pensively looked at your form. “We have never been close physically.”

It had escaped you that you would need to touch him in order for your relationship to be believable. “So we’re going to practice.”

He hummed. “I’ll have my arm around you for most of the night,” he emphasized.

You stood beside him, expecting him to rest his arm behind your neck. Damian placed his palm on your upper back first, tentative.

His hand slowly slid up, tracing your shoulder blade. As he wrapped his arm around both your shoulders, he grunted.

Turning to look at him, you asked, “What?”

“It’s rather awkward to walk around in this position.”

“Okay,” you breathed out. “So?”

He slanted his head to face you. “Waist or hip?”

You considered the question, thinking about the way your dress would fall down your body. “Which one do you think would look better?”

“I have no clue.”

At least he was honest. Moving his hand off your shoulder, you lightly took it in your grasp. “Let’s stand in front of the mirror.”

Damian didn’t withdraw his hand from yours as you guided him into your bedroom. He curiously stared at the walls, quickly glancing at everything his eyes could fall onto.

He knew so much yet so little about you... you were friends, yes, and he trusted you with things he had never even imagined he would say out loud. At the same time, he was still getting used to his new life.

It wasn’t drastically different, but it was freeing in ways he never expected. With his new life came you, and he was astonished over the fact that you hadn’t met before when you had been forced to frequent the same places. Your presence was refreshing — welcomed from the very beginning.

Damian blinked rapidly. Getting reflective over being at a friend’s bedroom for the first time was new, too.

Standing in front of the mirror, you let go of his hand. Damian surrounded your body with his arm, delicately resting his hand on your waist.

“Is that okay?” he asked, watching you through the mirror as you shifted.

“Yeah. You can lower your hand if you want.”

He did so, pressing his palm against your hip.

“I think,” you mumbled, “your hand on my hip accentuates my stomach a little too much.”

He slowly trailed his hand upward, stopping at your waist once again. “Like that?” he asked in a whisper.

“Like that,” you agreed.

The two of you stood there for a long moment, facing your reflections. You moved first, and regretted it as the temperature changed over your form.

You hadn’t realized Damian’s body was that warm.

Sitting down on your bed, you followed his movements with your eyes as he sat on your vanity’s chair.

“Speak your mind,” he commanded.

“What if Leonard doesn’t believe... us?”

“I believe he has attended a few of my father’s celebrations.” He was stiff as he spoke. “But,” he added, “I have never crossed paths with him.”

“At least he doesn’t hate you.”

“Has he hated people you’ve taken to his parties?”

“Mmmmh...” You tilted your head as you made yourself comfortable by crisscrossing your legs. “Not to one of his parties per se, but he hated the boyfriend I had in college. They had met before.”

Damian’s eyebrows shot up. “You only had one boyfriend in college?”

“No,” you laughed as you confessed, “but my family only met one.”

“I’m more worried about your mother.” He tried to be nonchalant as he said it, but it sounded like a confession too.

But you weren’t. Damian was easy to like. You would have worried if he had to meet your father — he always seemed to think the opposite your mother did. Your father would have told you not to date somebody more attractive than you, or mocked you for supposedly dating a rich guy too.

“Don’t mention her age and everything will go smoothly.”

“I honestly can’t tell if you’re joking or not.”

You shrugged. “Just to be safe, assume I am not.”

He huffed a laugh, mouth twinging before he sighed.

As he stood up, you did too. Damian looked at the time just to be sure that he had to leave already and said, “I should let you get some sleep and get some rest of my own.”

Agreeing, you silently walked him towards the door. You wanted to thank him for doing this, ask if he was sure he was willing to not only do this for you but trust you with returning the favor.

Words didn’t come out of you. They did from him. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

Yeah, you would see him in the morning for what would probably be one of the longest days of your life.

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x plus size reader #damian wayne

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