#so i do my best to go 'wow that's so cool kid!' whenever she searches for my affection

[missgeniality]

Opaline Moon (m)

“The Moon can never breathe, but it can take our breath away with the beauty of its cold, arid orb.” - Munia Khan

➺ Banner: @hobiandsprite​ 💕

➺ Pairing: Seokjin x Female Reader

➺ Trope: Friends to Lovers, Idol!AU

➺ Genre: Angst, Smut, Fluff

➺ Rating: 18+

➺ Word Count: 11.2k

➺ Summary: You are ingrained to love Jin, right upto the blood that courses through your veins. Confessing, however, is a whole other game. So it’s a good thing you’re bad at keeping your hands to yourself, because happenstance can handle the rest. 

➺ Warnings: talks about dance floor fucking, making out in the bar bathroom, fingering, pussy slapping, passing out drunk, daydreams about thigh riding, reader masturbates, they make out A LOT, neck kissing, a hickey, nipple play, some biting, cum eating (kind of, you’ll see), blowjob, protected sex!, reader and jin are corny, the hurt is real but the sex is real-er

➺ Author’s Note: My lovely, lovely moots - @taegularities​, @kithtaehyung​ and @baepsaetan​, thank you so much for betaing this and hyping it up, your comments made this fic a hundred times better! As I mentioned on the teaser, this fic took a lot out of me, but I thoroughly enjoyed writing the angst and will write more whenever the story aligns! I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I did writing, and I hope this lovable Jin reaches your heart! (ngl, in usual fashion, I will come back and edit it again, so if you see a spelling mistake, your eyes are lying to you) Do let me know what you think, your asks and comments make my day!

This is the second part of my Dress Down series, find more at it’s masterlist!

ɴᴀᴠɪɢᴀᴛɪᴏɴ | ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

Sweltering heat. Blaring traffic. Little to no sleep. Through all things wrong, one man’s thoughts wrapped around you like a cooling breeze, a shield to protect you from the vicissitudes of reality, to draw you back into all of him. Unfortunately, your reality may never see that day come to light.

Kim Seokjin.

Kim Seokjin, the man who cooked you up a greasy break-up meal at three in the morning with not a sight of discomfort, putting your needs above all.

Kim Seokjin, whose puns make you roll your eyes heavenward, half awed at how he manages to pull one out of his collection at a moment's notice, and half irked by the untimely laugh it brings out of you.

Kim Seokjin, the man who will never be yours, and you have no one to blame but yourself. 

One could argue that the miscommunication that had caused this present condition was two-way. If you had stopped him, corrected him, let him know the truth… you wouldn’t have to resort to the extreme measures you’re currently entangled in. One would also say, you are trying to redeem your mistake by trying too hard. Surely, everyone and their mothers could see through your ruse. 

This is the fourth time you’re visiting Jin for his BE shoot - a shoot taking place two hours away from the city, disguised under various layers of secrecy to prevent any leakage of the album concept, or Jin in general. Of course, you had been made privy to such exclusive information, because you and Jin were ‘best friends’. 

Best. Friends.

Nothing more, nothing less.

Best friends. The term you coined for (and forced upon) the bond you had. The bond that was too close to sprouting into something new, something fresh, something that was filled with glimmering allure and dragged you in like quicksand. But also, it reeked of commitment, of shadows, of newness that you hadn’t felt in the longest time, and fear of already being far too deep in without even taking the first step. 

The loud thrum of some internet kid’s new hit pulses through the air of the club as bundles of couples occupy the dance floor, laughing and gyrating to a song that, in your opinion, most definitely does not suit gyrating. But with enough of the weekend happy hours intake combined with hormone-riddled minds, one could very well throw it back to a church choir. 

You weave through the drunken bodies, trying not to spill the precariously held three drinks in your hands, making your way to your inner circle, the only people to blame for dragging you to this slosh-fest.

“Y/N!” 

Somehow Hoseok’s voice can echo across the club, but you didn’t even need his addressal because Jin’s laughter is loud enough to navigate anyone to your table. Seeing you struggle with the glasses (and mostly the crowd, with some of them living their exhibitionist dreams), Hoseok gets up to assist you.

“I swear, if I see one more couple pretending to be dancing as they rub one off of each other’s thighs, the black market will have my eyes.”

“Oh yeah?” Jin’s breathy voice interjects your black-market dreams, still bursting in short laughs from whatever sent him rolling before your arrival. “Why don’t you go join them?”

“And whose thigh is she taking, yours?” Yeji snorts out, one hand holding her nebula blue drink, the other wrapped around Hoseok, urging him to come closer. Jin’s features scrunch into a cringe, and you’re thankful for the dim lighting because the disappointment in your features does not reach them.

“The only action these leather pants are getting is in the damned laundromat,” he points to his shiny trousers, “some jerk dropped his drink on it.”

“You could be the first person to give some chick an orgasm and a yeast infection.” Hoseok giddily adds, his fifth shot clearly making a mess of his brain cells. 

Jin claps and gets up to move away from the group. “Better than a pregnancy!” he yells, before zigzagging through the crowd, possibly to the restroom. He is on his third cocktail, and you’d think cocktails are lighter drinks. But in this bar, their taps just seem to flow with tequila, and it is very evident in the way Jin is currently walking.

His absence hits you harder than you think, but it might be the alcohol talking. Jin has always been the mood-maker of the group, the one who brings everyone together. Of late though, his magnetic persona has been an irritant in your life. Any outing you two take, any chance you have to come clean about the burgeoning crush you have on him, is effectively disrupted by one of his posse. And today, Hoseok and Yeji took that trophy. 

“Earth to Y/N. Has the cocktail finally broken you?”

You flutter your eyes in a manic fashion, to disperse the daydream you were indulging yourself in, and bring your attention back to the couple calling for you. Surprisingly, they have stood up, Yeji emptying the last of her neon drink. 

“What happened?”

“We are going to the club nearby, they have better stuff. And that’s code for ‘they actually add water to the drink and the surround sound doesn’t shatter your ear drum’.’” 

She isn’t wrong. The cocktails and music here are a 19-year-old frat party dream, not something the working class can digest. But you’re tired at this point, and don’t want to be smothered by someone else’s love life when your own is down the dumps.

“You guys carry on! I’ll tell Jin where you are and he’ll meet you there!”

You watch as Hoseok and Yeji lead each other to the exit, hands circling their partner’s waist. They giggle on and on, about nothing and everything, and it only hardens the emptiness you feel inside you. 

Why can’t you gather the balls to spit your feelings out? What could possibly go wrong? Yes, you may lose one of your closest friends, but is this friendship really worth the agony? The bitterness you feel when you see any couple enjoying themselves? The anger you harbor whenever Jin tells you about his dates? The heartache, when he hugs you and tells you that you’re the best thing that’s happened to him… as a friend? Is it? Your plastered brain tells you to not make any rash decisions, so you don’t, instead choosing to get up and search for your best friend. 

The corridor leading to the washrooms is dimly lit, throwing a merlot filter over your eyesight, making you squint in search of your friend. You being shitfaced does not help, and while relishing in your floating wooziness, you see Jin come out, and feelings you’ve held at bay for so long slither through your currently porous defenses. 

He has always been good-looking. He himself has said so a dozen times.

But wow.

His hair lays messily atop his beautiful face, unkempt, like a breeze of beauty swept across his mighty looks and displaced every strand, causing disarray, but even the disarray only frames his superior looks and adds to its potent charm. The black, patchy sweater hanging loose off his broad shoulders makes you feel things you shouldn’t feel as a friend. That stupid gut of yours is currently screaming, yelling for all hands on deck, trying to block all the feelings from gushing in and sending you into overdrive.

By the time you can gather yourself to stop from giving in to those dangerous thoughts, Jin has crossed the distance between you, coming close, too close. Chocolate-brown eyes peer into your soul, searching for whichever fantasy you chose to lose yourself in. His eyes flit down to notice your rumpled dress that has found its way a couple of inches above its designated spot. His gaze returns to yours, but not without a newfound hardness, an almost steely glaze over the kindness that you usually find in the chocolate pools, accentuated under the garnet lighting. 

“Hey, umm…” You beg for a reprieve, from your thoughts, from your filthy mind, from the way he is eyeing your cleavage, or just for the burning between your legs. You’re about to make some serious mistakes, you can feel it down to your bone.

You’re far too overdressed. 

You knew it when you were in the process of getting dressed, but right now, you feel it much more - you look like a shiny disco ball orbiting amidst the plethora of loose tees, leggings and flannels. Everything screams comfort, because the amount of work they’re putting into this begs for it. 

The strappy lace sundress you wear is extremely out of place, the halter-neck tie behind your neck fastened a little looser than necessary, giving your breasts the exposure they deserve, a nice valley view. Your dress skirt, adorned with pretty frills and dainty flowers, cut across your thigh to frame your petite hips. You are one floppy sun hat away from an extravagant Greek cruise - and in the moment you wish you had one to hide your face in shame. 

You’re just out here, trying to escape the zone. 

“Oh, would you look at the time, it’s tits out Tuesday already?”

Your eyes roll before Sanghoon even finishes his sentence, because you wouldn’t expect anything else from him. On the team of the set design, he is carrying a whole drapery worth of plush, mauve curtains, struggling with the slipping fabric. But apparently not struggling enough to stop him from getting his nose into your business, it seems.

“Literally not even a time you just mentioned. Can’t get one thing right.” You can’t stop yourself from stretching a hand out to feel the curtain fabric, the satiny sheets begging to be touched. Before you can though, Sanghoon moves away, not allowing you to shift the focus of the conversation.

“Don’t steer away from the facts. Your tits.”

“That’s the fact?”

“They’re out.” He bucks up, trying to point with the hand stuffed underneath all the cloth. “That’s the fact.”

“Ugh, can’t a girl dress up once in a while?” The pointed attention makes you uncomfortable, because everything he’s insinuating is true. With every passing staff member, you count a new shade of grey, interspersed with occasional blacks and greens, a stark contrast to your floral overtones. Amidst the thousand footsteps taken in your vicinity, only yours are pointed heels, echoing across the studio with every clack. But you’re a stubborn one, refusing to give in to his totally valid argument. “I just woke up early.”

“Girl.” Like light through frosted glass, he sees through your bullshit, but only partially. “You put an alarm to dress up? I have nightmares of the boss brandishing her whip and telling me to get into position, and even that doesn’t wake me up.” 

“Have you ever considered… not announcing your kinks to everyone and their sisters?”

“Ehh,” he simply shrugs, “nothing is new when you’ve serenaded your boss drunk in a karaoke bar and still managed to keep your job. Wait. Is that highlighter?”

“Stop staring into my tits!” You can’t believe you got caught, but also, who can you blame? After testing this outfit out from the crack of dawn, you decided your cleavage needed some extra help. Three YouTube tutorials and one TikTok lady - who make it look far easier than it is - down, the contouring brought out the swell of your breasts, and against the light fabric of your dress, it does look too good to be true.

Memories of that night in the bar come in billows and waves, of how enamored Jin was with the way your boobs looked at that time. Even under the dingy lighting, in the cramped space, under heavily inebriated scrutiny, you couldn’t miss the flicker of heat in his gaze every time it passed your chest. 

One thing led to another, and it was a cascade none of you could stop. The heat of attraction between you two does not help your wandering mind, and the fever drowns the knowledge that what you’re feeling is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, crossing some lines that can never be mended back again. With the proximity, his musky scent invades whatever defenses you were trying to patch, piercing through all your inhibitions and you pull him into you, claiming his lips to be yours. 

With his wobbly knees and your wobbly heels, you somehow find your way to the washroom - mostly he does, you give in halfway to wrap your legs around his lean waist, his sturdy legs balancing your weight on them as your back hits the wall, and his lips tear down your walls. 

“You look so fucking sexy today,” between bated breaths and indulgent sighs you confess, “just driving me nuts.” Letting your hands drag along his abdomen, feeling the ups and downs of his abs, you attempt to rid him of the sweater that’s been on your hit list all night. But to your dismay, your endeavor is blocked, when Jin gathers your wrists in his palm, turning you around to bend you over on the countertop, the smooth marble chill hitting your braless chest, perking your nipples under the cold. 

“And you?” Jin bends to give your earlobe a languid lick, progressing very slow, a complete contrast to the movement of his hips as he ruts against your ass, your already short dress bunching up with every move. “You think it’s smart to have your tits torment me like this?” Grabbing a handful from behind, he tests the weight of each fleshy mound, and by now you are certain your perked nubs can pierce his palm. 

His free hand, not yet torturing you, decides to get in on the action and disappears under the counter, swiftly crossing the bunched fabric of your dress, gaining easy access to your pussy. The cold touch of his pads sears against the heat of your core, finding your pleasure button and languidly fiddling with it, with no intention to cross you over the brink in sight. The only pleasure you can indulge in is the reflection of him abusing your nipples, pinching and tugging them down, whispering filthy words into your ear as he takes in your fucked out countenance. 

You feel lacking, weak hands balancing your dizzy self, finding purchase to keep you upright - but you’re both drunk on alcohol and hypnotized by his beauty to do much more than stare at his mirrored counterpart. “For fuck’s sake, kiss me.” 

How he understood your slurred words, you don’t know, but you are glad he did. In a moment you’ve been displaced, the hurried motion sending your neurons into a flurry. Once your back meets the hard marble, and your eyes have the privilege to see his, you pull him in closer, the force enough to hold you against the wall while your legs wrap around his lean waist. 

Originally not a fan of drunken misadventures, that side of yours is strangely mute to the going current onslaught. Well, you don’t have much breath left to say anything, because Jin is efficiently stealing it all, his teeth clashing with yours as you engage in the messiest kiss ever known to mankind (or at least, to you). He changes pace often, dragging his tongue leisurely against your lower lip, conveying tacit words, just to switch it up with a sharp bite and reel you in. 

One corner of your senses can feel his fingers messing around your cunt, and playing with the wetness your thong can barely contain. It makes you shudder, the damage that his fingers can cause solely circling around your hole. 

“Fuck me.” 

In your drunken stupor, you don’t know if the words leave you right, but you get confirmation when his long fingers finally penetrate your cunt, giving your walls something to clench on - although nothing could possibly compare to what you imagine you can get from his dick.

“God, you feel that grip,” he grunts, with two of his fingers in you, and Jin’s smile is the most sinister you’ve ever seen. “I think we should take this home,” is what his lips utter, but his fingers delve deeper, searching for the spot that crumbles you. The base of his palm grinds against your throbbing clit, and you are forced to bite down on this sweater, lest an embarrassingly loud moan escapes you and cues outsiders into your filthy doings. 

“Now,” you half-hiss, half-growl as you grab the cusp of his legs to feel his half-hard erection grow under the pressure of your hand. Your palm sliters up just to go down again, this time without the blockade of his pants, but you are stopped short of success when Jin’s fingers slip out of you to give you a sharp swat. 

“Stubborn, aren’t we? Can’t fucking wait,” he whispers into your ear, and as he envelops your lobe with his cushiony lips, he continues, “I don’t want to hurt you.”

No, no, no. 

Your brain rejects logic, chews and spits it out before any of the rationale seeps into you. You have wanted this for far too long. The need inside you for a meaningful relationship materializes in the form of recklessness, desperately looking for surface-level relief for the moment. A night of sewing sutures to your battle-worn heart, stitches that may come off at the slightest strain - but right now, that will do. 

“Please, Jin,” your tantalizing tone riles up his cock again, eagerly waiting for your next words, “can’t you feel me dripping? Come on, I can take you.”

“Fuck, hear that wetness.” He lets his palm slap against your sopping entrance, not stopping with one. With every slap, droplets of your arousal splash out, the insides of your thighs coated in the sticky sweetness, but your body is an endless reservoir producing plentiful more for Jin to play with. “Have you been sitting with this all this time?”

Two long fingers invade your channel again, leaving you with no response other than a gasp. They scissor incessantly, preparing you for what could be the railing of your lifetime. One curl inside and his fingertips hit the spot he was looking for, making you warp your body to take the pleasure coursing through your veins. His tongue seems to mimic the actions, looping around your earlobe as he sucks it inside, both ends of your body engulfed in all the attention he could provide. 

Your cunt is weeping against the assault of this man’s hands, tears of your cum flowing down your legs with every pump of his arm. You are getting there, the sweet swell of release inching closer and closer.

But something doesn’t feel right.

The tightness in your belly, that is to a point caused by Jin, is harboring other sensations that are not entirely pleasant. Maybe you’re anxious about the happenings. Maybe you haven’t had a good orgasm in a while and have just forgotten how this thing works.

Or maybe, the bar should have the water tap actually give out water.

Either your eyes close, or your brain does, but suddenly all you can see is darkness.

 Again, you are just trying to escape the zone.

“Step under those studio lights,” pointing at the too-bright stage lights being set up at the moment, Sanghoon continues, breaking your daydream, “I bet you could signal to aliens with the booby-reflection. Call them to Netflix and chill.”

“In about five seconds, my heel will be puncturing your eye. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” 

Sanghoon’s drivel was cut short, and so were your murder plans, with his entry. “Oh look, he’s on set. Gotta go!” 

It’s like the lights, earlier threatening to burn away your skin, dim down in reverence of the glow of his face. The twinkle of his eyes when they meet yours. The shine of his smile when he throws you one. The vibrance of his tone when he calls out your name. Everything he does now threatens to burn you whole and it’s a wonder you’re not scalding, but the singe hurts you deep inside.

“Y/N! How do I look?” It’s a bathrobe. Like satin, or silk. Fucking hell, your brain could explode with the adjectives coming up, a whole chunk of them very much inappropriate to utter out in the current scene. Your arms want to rise, engulf him into you, and you have to physically halt the muscles from doing anything stupid. Brain, quick! Say something snarky and spicy, as best friends do!

“What’s the theme, unicorn puke?” The safest way to deflect is to attack. So you do just that. “You look like you dressed out of Hannah Montana’s closet. Which if it's true, I really need to see it. There’s a top that I’ve been eyeing for decades!”

“Don’t say decades.” Jin’s eyes crinkle in humor. “Makes me feel so old. Your dress is pretty cool too!” 

Cool.

You find out how difficult life can be when you count every single minute of yours. So far, you have counted 4,310 minutes. That is two days, twenty-three hours, and fifty minutes. Ten more minutes and it will be three whole days since you and Jin spoke. 

Yet again, you can’t blame him. When you came to the next day, you were in your bed, clad in the same shimmering silver bodycon that you had donned last night. The same one that had been privy to the colorful deeds you had committed in what was a dreary, colorless setting. 

One ibuProfen and ginger ale, downed with some severe recollections of the previous night, and you had been ready to throw it all up again. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

Words couldn’t describe what you were going through, and numbers weren’t invented to count the endless thoughts racing in your brain. You don’t know what is more upsetting. The fact that you actually had a chance to open your heart and you totally let your pussy think instead? Or that he was the one coherent enough to stop you from getting too far, and you let your desperation get the best of you? Everything about that night was wrong. And all the wrongs lie on your side. 

I don’t want to hurt you.

In the moment, it was physical, he had to have meant that. But there was a tremor in his voice, you can remember clear as day, a slightly shaken side of him had emerged through the intoxication, and the words he had breathed were not shallow. There was a gravity to them, that you’d stupidly ignored in the heat of the moment.

And now, here you are. Counting up till the last minute, after which you can effectively call the friendship ruined. Stirring your tea mindlessly, you try to focus on the show on TV, the variety show comedy not striking the usual funny bones that they could 4,311 minutes ago. 

The programmed ding of your phone bursts your thought bubble, a sound you have missed the past 72 hours. The ring you dedicated to Jin, that always had you running to receive because anything he sends brightens your day. But unlike those happier times, this ring has your gut fall into a pit of despair, struggling to choose between dispersing the suspense or remaining blissfully unaware of the damage you caused.

Jin: Free tmrw? We could grab coffee Jin: And talk

Talk. How? You barely remember what went down, save for fleeting moments that you recollected with great difficulty. Your fingers type back, trying to mimic the nonchalance in his text, that is very much absent in your actual demeanor.

Y/N: Sure. Paik’s at 1? Jin: Yup. See ya

Three texts, zero laughs. Of course, you’re not expecting him to land his jokes in this situation, even someone as talented as he can’t flip this tension. You’re just going to have to wait for tomorrow, when he decides whether you have a place in his life or not. 

The painstakingly worn outfit, accessorizing the whole look, the straps of your heels digging into your toes, the specks of makeup dust lying stale on your collar bones, the shine faints at that word. Cool. A perfectly normal phrase for a normal friendship. You are left maimed, while he absent-mindedly tends to the rope of his robe, blissfully unaware of the cyclonic emotions churning inside you. All you can possibly do is gulp it down. 

He runs his hands through his hair, beautiful locks coming out of place, and from one corner of the set, a groan of anguish emerges. 

“Oppa! Don’t play with your hair and face.” A masked lady runs forward waving combs that look like artillery, “We just got done setting it!”

Some finger guns, a happy apology, and some silly jokes later, all the stylists merrily round up to undo his doing, and Jin signals to you to catch up later. And as he walks away, the strings tugging at your heart reappear, as they do every time you come to meet him.

You have a masochistic streak in you, putting yourself through this every day, when he had made it clear, that you two never stood a chance. 

As if things aren’t already difficult, he looks like a dream. 

Soft, snowy skin gleaming like it has personal lighting wherever it goes, you get flashes of the rarely witnessed sweat on his skin, from the ferocity of last night. He’s blowing away the foam of his cappuccino, and tiny bubbles float into the air before falling flat on the table, like an animated shine that follows him along. God has His favorites, and God makes sure all the lighting in the world is perfect for these favorites. 

In no hurry, you wait at the counter to get your latte. After receiving it though, you can’t linger any longer and drag yourself to the table of doom.

“Hey.”

If the rasp in your voice is evident, he doesn’t show any recognition on his face. But you’ve learned to never trust an acting major. 

“Hi. How are you doing?”

Inadvertently, a snicker escapes your lips. “Are you interviewing me for a job?” you joke, trying to disperse the heavy air, filled with unspoken words. “If so, at least know that I’m very expensive.”

The familiar windshield wiper laugh does not greet you. Dead silence does. The half-smirk he painfully gives you is heavy, and the furrowed brows haven’t an inkling of joy. It shoots daggers in your heart, to know that you are the reason for this jolly man’s despondency. 

“Listen, I don’t think we should skirt around the issue too much. It happened, these things happen. You think Hoseok and Yeji didn’t have sex before making it official?”

His matter-of-fact nature isn’t new to you. Jin has always been a very practical man. Regardless of his inane sense of humor, his logical point of view has always been flawless. 

But right now, at this very moment, logic isn’t what you are looking for. You are looking for answers, but as far withdrawn from logic as possible, to take the edge off of the tension-laden air that surrounds your table.

“Yeah, but even… unofficially… we aren’t a thing, right?” 

Your abrupt question takes Jin unaware, almond eyes widening, like a toddler caught in an act. 

“No, no! Of course not! I would never!” 

His confession slips out with an ease that hurts you, digs deep to carve out the part of you that dreamt of anything more. Your eyes fall to your knees to avoid his perceptive gaze, the sting clear as the sky on a summer day. 

You force a smile and continue. “Then there’s no issue. Anyway,” you gulp your coffee down, burning your throat, but it's a distraction from the burning inside, “I need to get to work. Anything else?”

He’s still searching you, for what, you can’t possibly fathom. From the looks of it, he should be happy with this homeostasis; he doesn’t even know what this means for you. To still stay suspended in limbo, not being able to move up or down, to continue having thorns digging into your beating soul as you watch him like nothing bothers your already frail feelings. Scene by scene, you can visualize the future, him distancing himself from you as he finds the one he calls his, with you left in the shadows. Your knees tremble in fear of the impending future.

Seeing you in a tizzy, he calls out, the voice too loud for the cafe and your mind’s prison cage. 

“We’re still best friends, right?” If you knew better, you’d say his expression is that of sadness, of regret. But your judgment is clouded with your own bothers, and you interpret it as a look of pity. Like a lovesick puppy, kicked to the streets, with nowhere to call home. 

“Yeah! Always.” You give it as much enthusiasm as you can muster. 

Best friends.

Ropes wind around your heart, tugging and causing the deep ache that sets in as you walk back into your dreary building. Each string pulls you into a different dimension where you could move on, where you could be okay with the setting you had just agreed to. Where you would keep up your end of the promise and truly remain friends with him.

But no matter how strong the tug, your heart never yields, never lets go of the castle of dreams you built, staying steadfast in its own misery, choosing to hope, choosing to live the life of unrequited love.

“And that’s a wrap! Good job everyone!”

Applause and hurrays echo across the set to bring you back to the present. The shoot has officially concluded, which means it's time for your most favorite and least favorite part of the day - Jin and you doing best friend things, like grabbing lunch, gossiping about obnoxious coworkers, threatening to disembowel each other (in Mortal Kombat, of course) and other friendly activities. 

Ever so respectful, Jin takes his time thanking every member of the set, regardless of whether they moved a cushion or held the reflector screen for hours. All the women gush over his beauty, reminding him of how, even amidst the glowing ornaments, his face was the brightest. His responses vary, from quiet little giggles, to complimenting the crew for making it happen, to straight up owning his charisma like a boss. That’s your man. 

Well, not quite. Not one bit.

After exhausting the handshakes and hugs to be received, Jin walks to you, hands pushing his robe back to give it a cape like effect. You’re just glad that the man’s child persona still stays with him, no matter the situation.  He guides you to his green room, cracking his bones on the way, (very sexily, might you add).

“Holding a pose for that long gives me cramps! You’d think dancing breaks my back, and you’d be wrong.”

You’re desperately avoiding looking at his fingers, and keep your eyes below them - shoot! His ceaseless stretching gives you a glimpse under his shirt - it is dragging your memories back to the last time you saw them, and you’d rather not. It is hurting you in more ways than one. 

Eye contact is your safest bet. Looking up, you give him a lopsided grin. “Your grandfatherly days are approaching, Jinnie.” 

“Hey!” 

The rest of the conversation was less speaking, more yelling and chasing after each other to the green room, Jin taking mock-offence at your jab at his age, and his fingers reaching out to flick your forehead in retort. In your noisy, messy fashion, you both finally enter the room, dim gold light bulbs and shiny mirrors meeting your huffing self. 

One hand on your knee, you hold on to Jin’s arm with your other, gasping for breath. 

“Your grandmotherly days are already here, Y/N,” he snorts, and earns a kick on the shin, but that doesn’t stop him from bursting into snickers.

“Wow, why does one man need 4 mirrors?” You gape at his current green room, mouth wide open. It looks better than your entire apartment, with the counter carrying top-of-the-line makeup products. Only the best for this man. “So you can admire yourself from 4 different angles?”

Jin has disappeared into one of the inner rooms, but you can hear him snort at your comment. “Come on, I’m not that conceited. When the whole crew shoots together, the extra mirrors help.” The last part of that sentence is muffled, and that cues you into an important fact. 

Jin is currently changing into something more comfortable.

A process that includes him getting naked.

Well maybe he doesn’t get fully naked, top on, top off, bottom on, bottom of-

Still. You’re sweating like a whore in church. 

And things only get tougher when he finally comes out. 

The ocean blue sweater he dons is tucked in. Who tucks in sweaters? Kim Seokjin. Why does he tuck sweaters? Oh, because he’s got an amazing waistline that he should most definitely show off, and the heat between your thighs becoming increasingly potent is a testament to that. You pretend to adjust your heels, giving the right expressions to show you’re in pain, but in actuality you are bringing your legs closer to get you some relief, just any relief. 

Ripped jeans too. You get a peek of the thighs you were denied access to the night of the fuckening. Ridged and beautiful, not a speck in sight to mar his perfection. You are glad the facial expressions for pain and pleasure are not far apart, because your thighs, albeit very lacking, are helping the imagery in your head. Just Jin, seated on one of these leather chairs, and you straddling his thigh, clit aching against the strands of the rips in his denim, the fabric soaking up the wetness, with every push forwa-

“Now that you mention it, I do look dashing.”

And there goes that dream. 

You pinch his cheeks in adoration, the vulgarity of your thoughts getting whitewashed by his silliness and blooming heart-shaped flowers in their stance. You feel your own pinch in you, wondering if this scene would be the same had you blurted your feelings out that day at the cafe.

It's times like these when you remind yourself why you choose to quieten that side. This dynamic cannot reincarnate in any other form. Any imbalance to this equilibrium could cause a serious case of best-friends-turn-awkward-acquaintances, and you don’t know if that’ll hurt you more than you currently do. You don’t plan on finding out.

But on God, he tests that resolution every single day.

Jin doesn’t even hint that he knows of the turmoil blasting behind your eyes. He nonchalantly fixes his hair, gives you a one-over as you are mentally undressing him, nonchalantly as well. Then he moves to grab his cologne, and two spurts disintegrates all the whitewashing and takes you back into the obscenities you were unfolding. 

“So I’ll just go over the shoot photos, and then we can leave! You’re cool waiting here?”

“Hmmn, yeah!” You don’t let your mouth run any longer, fearing what might slip out. 

He gives you a wide, innocent smile. “Great! See you in a bit.” Poor guy. If only he knew how debase plans you were conjuring just from the aroma of his cologne. 

It is musky, like cedar or pine, perfectly suiting him. It is the same scent you remember inhaling, face stuffed in his sweater when he was fingering you to the tenth circle of hell. As he walks away, the fragrance diminishes, save for the slightest hint of lingering. You search for the source, and find the culprit strewn across the sofa.

The outfit Jin wore for the shoot held remnants of the perfume, and when you bring the shirt close and take a long, deep whiff, you transport yourself to the land of your dreams. You relish the fever smell of his cologne, mixed with his own natural scent, deciding that this is what you wish to smell like every waking morning.

Your longing for him has crossed way beyond physical boundaries. You longed for his love, longed for his attention. Longed to be the one that brings the light to his face. From morning rays to the darkness of the night, you wanted to experience it all by his side. To be his lone star, shining bright beside the moon. 

Your hands are moving without your control, disrobing you of your thirst trap of a dress and putting on Jin’s shirt instead. One look at the mirror and you let out a silent groan - it fits you just right. Just enough to cover your ass cheeks, loose enough to let the air conditioning hit your heated pussy. While well-fitting shirts have never been the cornerstone of a successful relationship, your delusional mind takes whatever wins it gets.

Adding layers to your pipe dream, you don the robe that gave you a tough time throughout the shoot. When you press the tails of the robe to your cheek, the softness of the material is soothing. Soft, like Jin’s eyes, like his hugs, like his smile. Like him.

Leaning against the counter, you steady yourself, mind split in titillation. Your fingers find their own path, drawing circles on your breasts over his shirt, imagining Jin’s long fingers in place. While teasing your nipple to pointed peaks, you slip your other hand under your panties, trying very hard to mimic his digits, twiddling your clit between your fingers. Alas, the effect isn’t achievable, because Jin seems to know how to play you better than yourself. 

The scent is getting stronger, without any provoking, and it is doing wonders for your immersion. You let out a loud moan when your fingers press inside, and you’re just glad no one can witness this.

“Y-Y/N?”

Fuck.

You are pulled away from your dreamland that was so impenetrable that you didn’t hear Jin step into the room. All the blood gushing to your nether regions has made a U-turn to flood your brain to think of a plausible explanation for this position. Instead it makes you giddy, and when you try to stand you wobble in your heels, to be rescued by what you think is a very scandalized Jin. 

Time stands still when your eyes meet, and what you see are blown out pupils trembling, many questions fluttering between you two. Jin crosses a tenth of the distance between you, lips flutter as they try to make a decision - do they want to part and give way to the voice of question? The voice of reason? The voice that will break this hush, burst this bubble where he has the one chance to give in to his longing?

You bring your lips closer, and cause immense disquiet in his dome, the way of his heart gathering speed against rationale. Your eyes dance between matching his gaze and finding his lips, every fraction of an inch you cross sending tremors through you. You can feel the shockwaves traverse through your body, making a pitstop at your lips, tingling them awake. They move downwards, passing your heart, beating it wildly against its cage, and then to the pit of your stomach to tighten in anticipation; finally reaching the tip of your toes, where you stand right now, a nanoscopic distance between you. Each one of you is afraid to cross the bridge, unaware of the other’s desires. 

Finally, Jin acqueises and meets you on your side. 

Atomic explosions ring through your head, clearing out every single thought that is not about Jin’s lips on yours. The ropes that held your heart from beating to the tune of your want, they’ve loosened their knots to give you the leeway to love freely. As your lips exchange positions, his teeth lightly drag across your plush petal, and it brings back the most important part of that night that you couldn’t recollect - the one where his lips sang wordless songs of adoration against yours. Blind as a bat, you were.

You dig your fingers into his hair, not minding your residual arousal coating his locks, and you feel his hands doing the same to you. With your eyes closed, you feel a rough edge to his cushiony soft lips, but Jin fixes that mistake - one stray strand of hair trapped in the middle of your indulgence - he pulls it away to give you all of the kiss. The hand tucked in your tresses pushes in, silently demanding more access, and you’re nothing but ready to give it.  

His tongue sneaks in to play a game with yours - when you seek it, it goes into hiding, finding perfect pleasure in soft, sweet kisses, but when you stay, it comes back in, awakening your tongue to deepen again. Everything he is doing is too much and not enough in one go, and you whine into his mouth in desperation, seeking some well-earned relief after months of holding back.

Amidst the flurry of your lips, your back hits the vanity countertop, and Jin pushes away everything on top to make space for you, not caring what expensive item flies down the counter to accommodate your ass.

As if you’ve made up for the months of holding back, the softness of the kisses erodes, teeth coming into play more and more, reminiscent of the night that went by in a blur. He swallows every mewl you give in return, blissed out beyond repair, your neediness making his cock strain against the denim. 

His hand snakes down, spreading his fingers to get a hold of your back to push you towards him, covering any gap that dared to intervene. Now unworried about the shoot, your hands have effectively ruined his perfectly placed locks and messed them up to resemble the craze he let you spin in.

Before he can glide his tongue back in, you break the kiss, lest you lose yourself in it to the point where you forget to breathe. With attached foreheads, you take deep drags of air, letting the oxygen flow to your brain before you make some ill-advised, unclarified decisions.

“I- I was jus-”

“Shhh. Wait,” he breathes out, wanting to take a second and fully savor the moment. You nod in return, making his head move along with yours.

After sufficient air fills his lungs, Jin starts. “Y/N, we should stop.”

Last time this had happened, you had tried to force your way through his barrier, without giving his feelings a second of consideration. So this time, you don’t repeat your mistakes. “Tell me why.”

“Because, I don’t know what you’re looking for, but I’m way deeper in this than you think.”

“Jin, I-”

“Let me finish.” He stops you before you can explain how much you reflect his emotions, possibly more. He doesn’t seem to want to listen now. “Let me finish, or else I’ll chicken out, for the millionth time.”

You’re dumbfounded. Millionth time? When was the first? Acting majors, by God. 

“I love you, Y/N.”

No, now you are dumbfounded. Your hands, holding his precious locks, drop down in shock, at sheer disbelief that all this time, he has been ready and waiting to return you the favor. Jin though, misinterprets it as a look of disdain. 

“I-I know I do, and I’m sorry that I do. I know you don’t feel the same way. You can hate me all you want, but this is the truth.”

“And yes,” he continues, refusing to halt for even half a second, afraid that the courage he mustered to confess would dissipate the moment he does, “I’m attracted to you, and I don’t know what went down here --” flicking his wrist to mention your (his) outfit, “--but I’m looking, okay? And I’m hard as fuck. But that’s not all there is to it.”

“I need all of you.” He takes an audible gulp, trying to stymy his emotions from overpowering him. “I want to take you out, I want to hold you hand, I want to bring you to all the places I love. I want to introduce you to people, not as my best friend, but so much more than that. It hurts me,” bringing his hand to his chest, he emphasizes the point of pain by clutching over his heart, “hurts to call you that because I’m lying through my fucking teeth.”

You break eye contact, because there are tears smarting your eyes at his heartfelt revelation. You can’t believe the idiot that you have been all this while. The man of your dreams stands in front of you, baring his soul, and you can’t even do him the decency of telling him what you felt yourself before jumping his bones.

And you love him, too. Maybe you haven’t said so, even to yourself, but you’ve known all this while.

You love him.

“If you are just looking for a fuck, or want any sort of a ‘benefits’ situation, we should stop. I can’t lie to myself anymore.”

“Jin, my God,” you half-sigh, half-laugh, feeling a burden lift off of you after months of pining.

“You don’t have to pacify me, it’s okay, I’ll be fine.” Even in this moment, he is looking out for you. His lips are curved upward to show you that he’s okay, but his pupils are shaky and restless, not in sync with his smile. You hope your next words can fix that for him.

“Pacify you? Hate you?” You shoot him an incredulous look, one you will explain to him very soon. “You are a much better person than I am, Jinnie. For months now, I’ve loved you, but even at this point, I didn’t stop to tell you.” The guilt of letting your hormones cloud your judgement for the second time lays heavily on your conscience. “I’m sorry for not making this clear earlier, but let me now. I love you, Kim Seokjin. I have for way too long. I want you, I need you. You have me, in every possible way.”

It feels unparalleled to get that off your chest. The leaden weight of your emotions immediately disappears - or the fact that it's shared, makes it much, much lighter. But then you look at Jin, and he still seems to have not put two and two together. You patiently wait for him to process all the information. 

When he finally recoups, he yells, “What?!”

You let out a loud guffaw, the first one with no inhibitions in the longest time. “What?”

“Why didn’t you say anything that day at the cafe?!” 

“You said you’d never date me, asshole!” You punch his chest softly, before slipping your hands behind him and pulling him closer. “I might not look like it, but I have some dignity.”

“I said that?” Jin brings one hand to pinch his nose in annoyance. “What an idiot. I think I was just inverting everything to make sure I don’t accidentally slip up.”

You lift your head to meet his eyes again, letting him see the tears you were hiding. You find a couple in his eyes, too. But the smile on your face is genuine, and that is all that matters. “I was blind too, so don’t beat yourself up about it.” 

Flitting your eyes down to find the contour of his cock against his jeans, you ask him innocently, “How about we make up for lost time?”

“Fuck, yes, please.” And with that, your lips are engulfed again.

When you have all your guards down, the kiss tastes sweeter than before. Mere moments ago, while thoroughly enjoying the kiss, a sense of reticence had clouded your pleasure, holding you back from luxuriating in the headiness. A series of what-ifs had plagued your subconscious without your realization, but with all that cleared, you wholly submit to the kiss, emptying your mind until nothing but his name remains.

“Fuck, Y/N,” Jin gasps out, when you bite into his pillowy lower lip, “I thought you looked the prettiest in the dress earlier but,” after pulling away, he drinks your current attire in, “you look the most beautiful in this.”

You snicker. “Even more than World Wide Handsome?”

His eyes bore into yours, no hint of the joking lilt he always carries in them. 

“So much more.”

Your hands find their place amidst his shaggy hair again, and you lodge his face into your neck - a command Jin acquiesces to with great pleasure. After a long, wet lick to your collarbone, he lays feather-soft kisses on the trail he left, starting from your shoulder and working inward, until he brushes against the back of your ear. You grasp at his sweater, because his lips feel so good. Your breaths are short, sucking in every time he allows your skin the luxury of a soft peck.  Once he lays a kiss on your forehead, he brings his gaze down to one of the main reasons that causes his cock to stir.

“Fuck, look at your nipples under my shirt.”

Gazing down, you can see the two pointed peaks that caught Jin’s eyes. 

“That tends to happen when I’m thinking of you.” 

He twists a nipple over the shirt, hardening it further, and you throw your head back in the satisfying pain. “Yeah, I remember.”

You are unraveling every second, the ache swishing amongst the bliss his fingers are bringing in you. He’s switched over to drawing circles around your nipple, until he snaps and tugs your shirt up, finally revealing the palmfulls of flesh awaiting his hands. 

“Ah that night, I didn’t get to do this. Take this off.” But then, he makes you put on his robe again. You throw him a questioning look, to which he responds with a sheepish smile, “Just so, you know… you don’t feel cold… or something.”

“Just say you like me in your clothes and move on.”

“I love you in my clothes,” he admits in a heartbeat, his expression that of anguish, “can we move on?”

“God, gladly.”

Unexpectedly, he bites the side of your boob - not hard at all, but feeling his teeth against your skin sends your head reeling backward. Your involuntary response is to wrap your legs around his waist, grinding your core against him. His teeth continue to nip you lightly across the expanse of your breasts, the trail of saliva he leaves cooling parts of your flushed body. Finally, finally, he latches onto your left nipple and gives it a long, pleasurable suck.

“Ahh, Jin - you’re too - God damn it - you’re too good at this.” 

Without stopping the onslaught he is unleashing on your breasts, his fingers begin to move - but soon, they stop, hesitation rippling off of their tips. His pace falters, and his mind is fighting on the next course of action.

“Can I-”

“Finish what you started that night?” you complete for him, already prepared with your answer. “Yes, please.”

All forms of uncertainty shoot out of his touch, and he confidently trudges forward. Playing with the band of your panties, he gives you a well-intended chuckle, murmuring, “As far as I remember, I was so good you passed out.”

“Boy,” You groan, intended in jest, but his teeth slide against your jaw and it mostly comes out more wanton than jovial, “let me see you have tequila for dinner and remember much the next day.”

“Fair fair,” he gives in, shifting to buss the valley of your cleavage, feeling your heart thud against your ribs holding it in place. “Well today,” he starts without moving his face, his nimble fingers moving past the barrier of your underwear, pressing two fingertips directly on your clit, and hissing like it's him at the receiving end, “I’ll give you enough to remember.”

You pull his sweater off and chuck it away, not wanting to be reminded of any blockades that kept you apart, and your hands roam the expanse of his back remembering the touch of his skin from the night at the bar. His body isn’t new to you, but the circumstances make it feel different. 

Finally, his fingers find their way inside you. 

Yes, this. This was what was missing from your drunken tryst. With your heads in place, your ardor intensifies, and you move his lips back to yours needing to release your animalistic desire into his mouth. Pleasure surges through both of you as you threaten to swallow him whole.

You can feel him being more present, and considering the merciless finger-fucking you had earned that night, this is taking it to a whole other degree. 

The night at the bar, his fingers did their best to ravish you, but now, Jin is paying attention, close attention to the way you respond. Every muscle movement is recorded in him as you struggle to accommodate three of his lengthy digits. Leaning close, he gives your peaked nipple the lightest feather lick - the suddenness sends shockwaves through you as he continues to tweeze the other, talented pianist hands performing his musical piece on both ends of you.

His fingers pump into you with determination, finding new depths to explore that he missed out on, and with a curl of his pointer, you blank out, screaming in the orgasm that is washing over you. Every skincell of your body feels the quiver of lust spreading, your cunt squeezing for an eternity, milking the orgasm out to the extent that you can. 

When you look down, your metaphorical orgasmic flood manifestes as a deluge of your arousal leaking on the table. And when you look back up, you can see the salacious ideas making their rounds in Jin’s head as he looks at the inundation you released. 

Hurried hands still convulsing from the intensity of your orgasm, you undo his belt, followed by his jeans and finally - getting the pleasure you were heartlessly denied of - his cock is out, in all its glory, twitching as the cool air hits its naked skin. Jin’s plans don’t go hand in hand with yours though.

“Are we just - holy fucking shit - just, umm, leave that to waste?” he lustfully looks down to your leaking core, and someway, through your hold on his dick, he tries to steer you into his plans.

“I don’t know about that,” you cheekily reply. You have the right idea to satisfy both of you, and get down to the task.

With the flat of your palm, you swipe across the droplets of cum you released, gathering them to transfer them onto his thick length. Jin thrusts into your hand, the wetness jolting him into attention, and he places an arm on your shoulder to steady himself. 

“You’re going to taste yourself?” he asks as you continue your vacillating motion, twisting at the base of his head with the wetness you graciously provided yourself. You give him a nonchalant look, something he is trying to do to you as well. 

“Who said I’m gonna suck you off?”

His look changes, and the one you get in return is cocky, arrogant, downright rude if you were honest. You expected him to play on with your banter, but one raised eyebrow and the lazy smirk he gives, to what he probably thinks is a joke - Zeus could land on earth and not be able to stop you from gobbling his meat. 

Your mouth is filled with his dick even before your knees hit the ground. Jin staggers back, but your suction on his dick is funnily strong enough to pull him back before falling.  You switch positions, having him balance himself against the counter, all while you refuse to leave his cock out. His giggle of endearment has you pouting, but it swells your heart and makes you want to give more, more of anything and everything. With your renewed vigor, you push yourself in until his pubes tickle your nose, and his tip tickles your throat. 

“Your-”, “I-”, “uhh-” 

Every new sentence Jin starts crumbles to your actions. You furrow your brows both in concentration on your blowing skills and trying to decode what he is trying to say. 

Jin takes a large gulp, adamant on making this one a coherent sentence. “You know, I used to imagine this, and in my dreams I used to be very sexy and suave, talking my way throug-oof-” You run your tongue over the tip of his leaking dick, emphasizing the point he is coming to, “Now I can’t even complete sentences here.”

“You being you is super sexy in itself.” And you curve your tongue to match the arch of his cock, letting the incoming saliva pool on it before letting it run down his shaft, dripping down from his balls. Strings of his precum connect to your lips, and you swipe your tongue through them, relishing the salty goodness before going back in for more. 

“Y/N, shit, did you just moan?”

How couldn’t you? The fact that he is horny for you, so much so that rivulets of precum don’t stop drizzling down your throat, has you preening. You hum your assent in response, not willing to let go even for a moment, but Jin pulls you off before you can get a chokehold on the base of his cock again. 

“Never had a woman moan while sucking me off. It’s sexy as fuck,” Jin breathes into your lips as he dives in for a kiss.

Your chest is heaving, catching the breaths you lost when you were down. “Then why’d you stop me?”

“Are you kidding me? I was about to lose it right there.”

“Jinnie, come on,” you break the fragmentary kiss you were sharing, looking into his glassy eyes, “let me feel you come on my tongue.” To emphasize your conviction, you lick his lips, persuading him of the sinful deeds your tongue is capable of doing if he’d just let you.

“Oh man, stop. What’s worse than busting a nut in your mouth? Busting it while you’re kissing me. Making me feel like a teenager.” You erupt into a loud laugh, soon followed by Jin as well. It is so him to joke about this. 

“And babe,” all hints of embarrassment vanishing from his tone, “I’m only going to come inside you.”

“Fuck, fuck, yes. You got a condom on you?”

“Yeah, let me grab my wallet.” The instant he moves away, you feel naked, shivering from the comfort stolen away from you. But then you hear Jin grumble, “I hope I don’t have the bacon-flavored one.” And the absurdity of it all puts you at ease again.

“Ew, stop, even you can’t make that sexy. My lady boner is dying.”

He envelops you again, and you can feel the laughter echoing in his lungs before making it out to your ears. He brings your attention to the familiar rustle of foil wrapper. “Thankfully, we got chocolate.”

“Mmmh, gotta love chocolate.”

You take the condom out of his hands, and roll it onto his stiff length, flattered that he’s holding his erection for so long. 

“Okay, stick it in me!” And you smack your ass in readiness, and a very flabbergasted Jin breaks out chortling.

“Y/N, stop being my best friend for like, five minutes!” His brows are furrowed in pretense exasperation, but you can see his lips holding back a genuine smile through the grimace, just happy that your dynamics haven’t changed the slightest, even though everything else has shifted.

“Okay okay,” you try and suppress your own laughter, before continuing, “how do you want me, baby?”

“Bend over on the vanity. And keep your eyes on the mirror.” And as you move into position, his palms grab your ass and squeeze it hard, feeling your glutes push back against his grip, and he pushes you forward till you're on the tips of your toes. You watch him through the mirror, watch him admire the way your ass curves over the table edge, how your toes struggle to keep you up, and how the dimples of your back are deepened by the arch, peeking under the bunched up robe tails, just waiting for him.

“Jin.” Your hushed whisper puts him in action.

Pushing the head in is anguish and relief at the same time. His bulbous head stretches your entrance; even with your preparation, you feel it sting. The searing gets better and better with every inch slipping in, and when he finally lodges inside, you let out a heavy breath, still panting and keeping yourself from screaming bloody murder in pleasure. Jin bends forward to paint the back of your neck, sucking the flesh till the circular bruise comes to surface. 

“Can you- can you-fuck, no, wait-” Your brain is at war with itself, battling between adjusting to his girth and having him pump you into adjustment. 

You can feel Jin’s snicker from behind you, and he finally makes the decision for you. “I’ll wait, I have things to do here,” he says before playing around the patch of skin, spreading from the base of your hair to the expanse of your back, his teasing licks relaxing your walls and accommodating his girth. The pain is almost gone, expect for the lingering ache that only helps you.

“You can move now, babe.”

“Okay, okay.” Your words snap him out of the painter’s dream he was in, and he twitches inside you. Something about the ease at which you both have adopted nicknames for each other softens his heart and hardens his cock. 

Pulling out till only the head rests inside, Jin himself struggles against the third degree grip your pussy has on him. As he is thrusting inside again, your walls tense up, making it harder and harder for him to hold back. 

“Y/N, sweetie, relax. I got you.”

“Jin, I’m-” You have tears running down your eyes, the pleasure and unsurmountable happiness rolling out in fat hot drops. “Fuck me harder. I won’t last.”

“Shit. Okay, hold on then.”

To what? Is what you’re going to ask before Jin unleashes his carnality onto you. Your breasts, dripping in sweat and saliva, are plastered to the countertop, which in itself is jiggling to the beat of Jin’s thrusts. His dick is curving inside to hit you repeatedly, and you have to gather the satin fabric to wipe your eyes to keep your gaze fixed on him. 

He looks majestic. Forehead embellished with beads of sweat, his hair coiffed up, lips sanguine red after your vicious kisses - you swipe your tongue along your own lips to find them battered in response. His honey chest is heaving with every push, and a particular one hits you just right. 

You let out a guttural groan, and Jin takes note of it immediately. 

“Up,” he commands, and loops an arm under your belly to you pull you up and closer and now every thrust hits deeper into that spot he has found in you, your back connected to his chest as the two of you move in tandem; this is the most together you’ve ever felt with anyone. This moment is to be etched in your memories forever.

You scream into your fist to muffle the sounds, the edge of the table digging into your hip bone as you feel yourself getting closer to the brink. One swipe to the clit is all you have left to bring you to your release. 

And from some telepathic force, or from the clutch your pussy has on him, Jin beats you to it. His fingers come down and carefully find your swollen nub, pinching it between his fingers. If he thought you’d shown him your hardest clench, he was wrong, because right now your dam has broken, and the iron-clad grip you give his cock sends him reeling, too.

You are gushing on his dick, the rubber dripping with your wetness. Jin too releases into the condom in stuttered gasps, his thrusts becoming shorter and shallower as he comes down from his high. 

Petal-like kisses fall on your back as the two of you regain your breaths. The mirror that served you two well is covered in a fog of hot breath and perspiration, blearing your vision of yourself, but somehow, it sparkles with Jin’s reflection. His nobility-esque visuals use the haze as a valance for his appearance, framing them to make him look like you’re among the clouds. And in some way, you actually are.

“Ah, let me go.” You jiggle your shoulders back to make the man above you move. “Fuck, can you check if my spine is in place? I think you dislodged it.”

“Shut up and come hug me, I’ll squeeze it back in place.”

Now this is something you could get used to.

As he ties and throws away the used condom, you flip over to face him and fall back into his embrace, broad shoulders promising to protect you, making you feel safe in his care. Jin on the other hand is simply ecstatic to feel you on him, feeling your thumping heart beat for him, after months of pining and pondering whether anything would become of the seed of your tumultuous friendship. Now, it has blossomed to a garden of prospect and promise, every petal of every flower here reading a new opportunity to tell you how much he adores you, cherishes you, treasures you. How much he loves you.  An opportunity he doesn’t wait to use. 

“I love you.”

The pink tinge of your cheeks either comes from the sex, or from his comment, but either way, he is glad its from him. 

“I love you too, Jin. So, so very much.”

If your heart could leap out of your chest, it would do so, to find its way to his and fuse into one. But for now, your entwined bodies give you all you want. 

You hear Jin stifle a laugh, and pull back in question. He points to something odd on the countertop.

“What is that?”

The cream white surface of the table, that was maligned by your ignoble deeds, now sports two glistening, wheatish semi circles that look very similar to the sizes of one person who was splayed on top of it just moments ago. 

“Is that…” Jin is trying to contort his lips and halt the looming snicker, and he brings his eyes down to your chest (trying not to get hard again), “Did you have makeup on your chest?”

“Shut up.” All you can do is fall closer into his arms, hopefully masking the tint of embarrassment highlighting the apples of your cheeks. “I wanted to make them look extra good for you.”

He’s given up on holding back, the full-bellied laugh that resonated from him echoing across the room. But it dwindles down fast, coming to small chuckles of tenderness, and he slips his digits beneath your chin to have you meet his gaze.

“They always look good,” he whispers, his admittance setting your chest aflame, “trust me, I’d know.”

Taglist 💛:  @little7bitchh​, @afangirllikeme-blog​, @h34rt1lly, @marpotterhead​

Thank you so much for making it to the end! I hope you enjoyed the fic, my ask box is always open for your lovely opinions. To read more of my work, find my main masterlist here. :)

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Helpless (Philza x Reader)

Oh boy here we go, exposing my dilfza side!

Once again I hope you guys enjoy and feel free to send requests in my ask box!

Word Count: 1,673

You absolutely adored spending your time in the town’s library even since you were little along with Wilbur. Ever since you were younger you tended to be far too awkward when it came to starting friendships. Wilbur would come into the lounge for the teens, sitting around the computers with the other kids yelling and joking around. He had seen you being rather sheepish, oftentimes peering over your book to see whatever they were up to only to quickly avert your gaze when he caught you. If anyone asked him, he’d say he walked over to you to say hi just for you to start following him around like a puppy. In reality, he had started to pester you when he caught you looking. He was so stubborn to talk to you and wouldn’t let you be whenever he saw you from there on.

Regardless of how he claimed the two of you met, you were grateful that you did. He was one of your first friends growing up and you wouldn’t trade the world for him. That being said, he drove you nuts along with the kids that had started to follow him around like he was some big brother. Tommy was by far the worst of the two, constantly making little jokes towards you trying to “flirt”. You know, as much as a 12 year old could flirt with a 20-something year old when he was barely over his cootie phase. Thankfully though today it was just the two of you.

A sigh from Wilbur caught your attention, peering over your book to him. He was looking around from his seat, a bored look on his face. God you already knew he was about to be overdramatic...

“Doesn’t this ever get old to you,Y/N?” he asked,eyes looking desperately for something, anything to give him some sort of excitement but he was instead met with nothing but countless shelves of books and the occasional noises from who knows where.

You hummed to yourself, seemingly thinking it over before bluntly saying “Nope! We always go to the library on Saturday Wil, this isn't new.” He turned his gaze to you and pouted, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you went back to your book. “Come oooon,” he leaned across the table, pushing down your book so you were forced to look at him “You’re telling me that you don’t want to go out and do something for once? I’m sure Techno is probably doing something cool, probably going in the Nether or something else fucking bonkers.”

Was he serious right now?

The Nether, especially with Techno, was far from a fun idea to you. Techno wasn’t as impulsive as Wil or Tommy but that didn’t exactly mean it would be a calm trip. Techno was a little strange to you, always going on and on about chaos and little philosophical rants about politics and such. He was one of Wilbur’s friends from before he met you and if you were honest, he was weird back then too.

“Yeah, just so Tech can get us lost like he did last time in the woods when you guys wanted to find a dog?”

“Hey! We got home didn’t we?”

“Wil it took us till sunset to get home and you almost broke your leg on a log-”

He once again sighed, this time louder and more dramatic than before. It was kind of cute when he went on these little tangents, now going on about you having to learn to ‘live a little’. Yeah right, because living meant taking dumb risks for literally no reason. Part of you wished you had the guts he had, making friends with so many kinds of people and going on crazy adventures but you knew better than to get wrapped up in all of that. Something suddenly caught your eye, something dark poking out from one of the aisles behind Wilbur as he went on talking. There was someone standing in the aisle, the strange object seemingly fluttering when they moved. Your mind was wandering, curious of who lingered out of sight before finally walking out from behind the shelf.

Blonde locks rested on green clothed shoulders, bright eyes glancing over the spines of books. The dark objects you had seen now were much clearer, turning out to be a rather large pair of what seemed to be raven wings. You had seen some rather interesting people around L’Manburg but, wow, they were rather gorgeous.

‘The wings.

The wings were gorgeous’ you thought to yourself.

Goodness what was wrong with you?

“-I’m just saying, I don’t want you to be so damn sheltered that you cease to function if I ever had to leave or anything you know?” He said, looking up at you expecting to see you giving your usual pained smile you gave when it came to serious talks but, strangely enough, you weren’t even paying attention to him. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion before following your gaze behind him. It was silent for a moment as Wil looked at who had your attention, feeling even more confused to see his friend Phil. Why were you looking at Phil like that? Granted, he never introduced you two but it wasn’t like you to just stare like that at people. He turned back to you, waving one of his hands over your eyes.

“You alright there, Y/N?”

You flinched, snapping out of your little trance and looking back to Wilbur. Oh goodness, how long was he done talking? You didn’t mean to space out on him so bad. “Yeah- I'm sorry about that..just got a little” you paused cheeks heating up, trying to think of how to word it without Wilbur possibly prying “spacey.”

Something seemed to click in Wil’s mind as he saw your cheeks darken, looking back to Phil then back to you as he worked it over in his head. Suddenly his lips curled into a mischievous smirk, watching you try to look back down at your book that now rested on the table. You had no idea just how guilty you looked, failing to catch that look on Wil’s face as he suddenly stood up from the table.

“Gimme a sec-”

Before you could question him he scooted his chair in, turning around and walking right up to the winged man. ‘Oh god,’ you thought as Wilbur started talking to him. You couldn’t hear anything they were saying so all you could do was watch helplessly as they chatted away. After what felt like an eternity Wil leaned in closer to him, turning to look at you while he seemed to whisper something to him ‘Oh god what is he doing?!’ You felt like your heart was going to burst when the stranger’s eyes looked right at you, shifting from Wilbur then back to you. You quickly looked down at the book again, unable to look either of them in the eye. You wanted to sink into the floor, why is it the moment you get the slightest bit of a crush you had to be with Wilbur? If only you didn’t stare, if only you just agreed to something different today..Maybe you could just leave honestly. Wilbur would probably tease you for a week over you being a chicken but at the very least you’d still have some breath left in you.

“Hey-”

Your eyes shot up at the new voice, shocked to see the blonde in front of you and even more shocking, Wilbur wasn’t behind him taunting you silently. Nope, instead it was just you and the raven winged stranger. You swallowed nervously, trying your best to give him a friendly little smile that came out making you look far too small and mousey.

“You mind if I sit with ya?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face that made you jittery. Not wanting to seem weird you simply shook your head, grateful as he didn’t pry for a verbal answer and instead took Wilbur’s seat across from you. Goodness that smile was going to be the death of you. He propped his elbow up on the table resting his chin on his palm as he watched you shift in your chair nervously. “So,” he finally said “Wil says apparently you were givin me the eyes”he teased, loving the way your cheeks darkened at that far too much.

“He’s such an ass” you muttered to yourself,nervously playing with the pages of your book as you tried to search for some sort of way to get yourself out of this “I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything.” This was so embarrassing, having to admit that you were being some weirdo and staring at him.

“Honestly I think it’s cute if it means anything” he admitted, once again catching you off guard. You haven’t felt so helpless before. You didn’t feel uncomfortable in a bad way or anything but to have a much taller and very handsome guy right across from you was really something for sure. You knew now that you’d never hear the end of this and in all honesty? Wilbur was going to probably die if she didn’t melt by the end of this. He extended his hand, giving you a patient smile “I’m Phil.”

You gave a slightly more comfortable smile to him, gently taking his hand and giving a shake “Y/N…”

“Well Y/N, I mostly came over here to introduce myself since Wil had to be a little tattletail” he joked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and standing up“Hopefully i’ll actually get to see you around when you’re not all frazzled, yeah?”

You could only manage a nod again, melting as you heard him chuckle at you being so nervous. You think you heard him say bye as he walked off but you were much too focused on how you were going to kill Wilbur later.

#mcyt x reader #philza x reader #dilfza #mcyt fanfiction #philza fanfiction #I'm weak for Phil okay im sorry #dream smp x reader

[anothertimdrakestan]

Sweater Weather (Damian Wayne x Reader)

words: 1.4k

req from a lovely anon: “Could maybe please write a songfic for Damian and the reader? The song being Sweater Weather? It could be sfw or nsfw, whatever you're comfortable with. However, if you're not comfortable with this request, that's ok! I LOVE your writing and respect you as the author. Anywayssss, have a great day! 💞💞”

hi love!!! thank you for the req! i’m not very practiced at songfics but i tried and i stole all the inspiration for this story from my real life eheheh so here’s some insight to my messy love life lmao. also! for my songfics at least i don’t include lyrics because for me they pull me out of the story but if you know the song you’ll notice a lot of dialogue/descriptions are pulled straight from the song hehe! i hope you enjoy!

“I’ve got the taser, kick them in the balls if they try me, and scream” you repeated in your head as you made your way down the streets of Gotham, was it quite late to be going out for a bite to eat? Yes. But you’d been studying and felt that a midnight snack was well deserved. 

Bag of food in hand you were headed back, taking a familiar shortcut you used to get to downtown all the time. Unfortunately, you failed to remember that the alleyway on fifth was never safe after sunset, but your mind auto-piloted you that way and now you were about 85% sure you were about to have to beat some ass to defend your food in a few minutes. 

“C’mere princess gimme a smile” a deep voice slurred as you continued past, other deep growls of agreement and hoots echoed around the alley. “C’mon babe I don’t see anyone with ya! pretty gal like you’z should be snatched up” you cringed at his wording hoping there was no double meaning as you hurried past. “Tt, she’s with me” a voice hissed as a cloaked vigilante dropped in front of you. “Hey Rob” you smiled sheepishly, knowing he had probably been watching you for a couple minutes. “Y/n, come, let’s go” Damian’s slightly fake Robin voice always made you roll your eyes but you knew there was no chance in hell he was letting you walk away, so you let him loop his left hand around your waist and pull you out of the alleyway towards your favorite rooftop. 

Before your feet touched the rooftop you were getting lectured. “Y/n you know I’m a call away when you want to go out like this! It’s not safe here you know this!” you looked at him with a bored expression. “Dames I’m not a baby plus you trained the crap out of me I could’ve easily protected myself and you know it. So why the heroism tonight?” you asked, cocking your head to the side while Damian did his favorite move besides pulling out a sword: changing the subject. “It’s too cold, look, you’re shivering. Here.” he grumbled, pulling off his cloak and draping it around your neck as you clasped it, grateful for the warmth but angered from the lack of answers. 

You didn’t need to bug him, just give him a knowing look and he was soon sitting with you on the rooftop staring out at the skyline. And you just sat like that, in silence, for a little bit. Not that you minded- there wasn’t much for you to say while Damian clearly was deep in his own thoughts.

“I wanted to save you” he broke the silence. You turned to him, “you’ve been saving me since we were kids man it just hasn’t been a recent thing. What aren’t you saying?” you cut off your thought to see if he’d give you more. 

“Trust my y/n there’s nothing I wouldn’t want to tell you about” his whispered before standing up with his grappling hook. “You don’t want your food to get cold” he mumbled as you silently agreed, moving to take off the cloak. “It’ll be cold, leave it on” were the last words before he whisked you home, helping you sneak through your window like always. “Bye Dami” you whispered, meeting his domino mask covered eyes that just stared at you for a couple seconds, but with a little nod he was off. 

With a stretch you decided to leave the cloak on, it was surprisingly warm and you didn’t want to lose it as it was probably quite expensive. You got out your food, just a couple bites in when you heard a knock on your window. Getting up was Damian, this time without his mask on, sat with unreadable eyes that were searching frantically until they met yours. 

Sliding the window open you stepped back to let him in when he pulled you out of the window and onto the roof of your home. With a small yelp you stared at him, waiting for an explanation. 

Damian took a deep breath. “I didn’t finish answering your question” he said gruffly as you cocked your head to the side. “Okay?" you replied.

“I wanted to save you,” his eyes cast down and his tone quieted as he said “because I couldn’t imagine my life without you y/n” You felt your chest tighten, all the nights you spent wondering if Damian would ever feel the same way you did, the nights you spent writing Y/n Wayne on papers then erasing it with a giggle, and all the moments where you considered how difficult it would be to go from best friends to something else- all started flooding to the front of your brain. “Play it cool y/n” you chided. 

“Aw Dames you know I couldn’t either!” you nodded, giving him a soft smile which got wiped off your face when he shook his head. “No, not like that- god I am so bad at explaining this” he groaned, looking like he was going to give up. But he continued, “what I want is different, different from what we’ve got. I want a future, a person who wants me, a love, I want love.” his voice was strained as he paused to look at you. 

“You want those, with me?” you gulped. 

He nodded. “Yeah, i-is that bad?” you could tell he was holding his breath.

“Not bad, definitely the opposite. Good, very very good” you mumbled, watching his eyes fall down to your lips. 

“So if that’s what I want, what do you want?” he whispered, toying with the material of his cloak that you were still wearing. 

“I want you Dami” his eyes snapped to yours, like he was processing everything hitting him all at once. 

His hands had made it higher up the cloak now, and you felt him tentatively tug you forward, his eyes meeting yours one last time to confirm that everything he’d been dreaming about for months was really about to happen. 

And then he kissed you.

It was soft, and tentative, and careful. But it was also warm and overflowing with love. His hands moved to cup your cheek while you linked your arms around his neck, pulling him into the kiss. 

Pulling apart Damian’s lips were upturned into the tiniest smile, but it said more than a million words to you. 

“So you gonna ask me out orrrrrr” you teased with a wink while Damian rolled his eyes. “I’m sorry, was the moonlit kiss not good enough for you ms. l/n” he scrunched his nose while you laughed. “No I just wish I could’ve filmed your whole ‘I want love’ speech. It was very un-“i-was-trained-as-a-baby-assassin-with-no-emotions” of you! I’m quite proud wanna give it another go so I can show Bruce?” you laughed as Damian glared at you. “Don’t make me resend my offer, I could change my want’s at anytime you know” he said very matter-of-factly while you couldn’t help but snort. 

“Puh-leez you’d give the speech again if it meant you could steal another kiss” you tapped his chest knowingly when his hand shot out to grab yours. He laced his fingers in between yours saying, “from my knowledge you were the one of said you wanted me, and since I’m yours and you’re mine, I pretty much get a kiss whenever I want, it’s hardly stealing” he finished by pulling your lips onto his as he smirked into the kiss. “Hm whatever you say lovebird”

“You cannot call me that”

“I’m pretty sure I get to call you whatever I want lover boy” 

“Absolutely not”

“Love bird, lover boy, softie, cutie, baby bird, wow there’s like infinite nicknames here” you gasped with laughter.

“What have I gotten myself into” he chuckled as you grinned, diving in for a quick peck before you decided it was enough loving for one night, the cloak was warm but it was nothing compared to the sweater you’d stolen from Dami a couple weeks past. You’d been outside more tonight than in the last month and desperately needed something to warm you up. It was finally sweater weather after all.

#damian wayne #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x fem!reader #damian wayne fluff #damain wayne fanfic #batboys #batfam #bruce wayne #batboys x reader #batfam x reader #dc fluff #dc fanfic

[charmingyong]

Wasabi Chocolates

Genre: Ten x reader (gender neutral), co-workers, one-sided hate to love, humour, fluff

Warnings: the number of times I wrote “oh my god,” swear words, somewhat mentally violent reader (’you’re going crazy~’ because of Ten), physical injury, cats (sorry to those allergic)

Abbrev: F/N L/N = first name last name

Word count: 6k

Plot: You were a good child, always being nice to your classmates in elementary school. Unlike Ten who was always a troublemaker. When your family decided to move away during middle school, you were relieved thinking that you weren’t ever going to see him again. But you were wrong a decade later when your new co-worker was none other than the devil himself.

A/N: You’ll see that I watch a lot of cat vlogs. Please let me know if there are any issues in terms of the gender-neutral assignment.

- ❀ -

“Oh my God! Did you hear about the new guy that got hired in our department? I heard he’s super hot!” Sally gushed.

Your colleagues around you continued to gossip while your gaze was fixed onto the word document on your monitor. It didn’t faze you that the workspace next to yours was going to be occupied soon.

“Wow Y/N, aren’t you lucky?”

You rolled your eyes. Who knew how the new employee was going to turn out in terms of work habits? You were always punctual when completing work before deadlines and arriving for work, except for the times when the brutal winter would take forever to heat your car up. You were hardworking and smart, always getting praised by your higher-ups. You were proud of the compliments, but you mainly did it for self discipline. You loved your coworkers. They were all productive like you and adored you back. You were always genuinely nice to them, ready to help them out whenever they needed a helping hand. It made you happy that your workplace was a healthy environment and you looked forward to working there every day.

You hoped the new co-worker would be no exception.

“We’ll see about that when he starts. When is he coming?” you asked.

“Tomorrow.”

- ❀ -

The next morning you arrived a little earlier than usual, wanting to welcome the newbie and give him a tour around the building. You placed your tote bag that had a poorly self-drawn picture of your cat and turned on your desktop monitor, displaying the wallpaper of your sleeping cat on your bed. You smiled, your heart fluttering at how cute Sakura looked. You heard the doors slide open of your department, signaling an arrival. Removing your gaze from the monitor, you stood up ready to greet them warmly.

Only to have your blood turn cold and your face scrunched up ever so slightly when you realized who it was.

An amused smile grew on his face. “Wow! I can’t believe this. The one and only F/N L/N is my work buddy.”

Ten.

He was the new employee that was going to be located beside you.

The same troublemaker from elementary school. The one who’d make fun of the new kids with accents, start fights with other boys, be loud and obnoxious in class, and worst of all, act all high mighty as if he was the most important person in the school.

You scoffed. There went your hope jumping out the tenth-floor window. Hope for your new co-worker to be no exception to the healthy workplace environment. “I feel a headache coming,” you muttered to yourself.

- ❀ -

Ten had settled down at his workspace, and your colleagues gathered around him, asking about himself. He took out something from his bag, a gift for his new coworkers.

“Wow Ten! You’re so cool!” Sally fanned herself as if Ten’s coolness was too much for her to handle.

“I know right.” Ten had a smug smile on his face.

You scoffed from your seat. “Who the fuck brings wine to work?” Ten had brought a red wine bottle as a ‘please take care of me’ gift. Who was even going to drink it during work hours?

“It looks like someone doesn’t know how to have fun,” he threw shade at you.

You glared at him, your blood boiling the more you heard his voice.

“Y/N doesn’t. That’s why she’s still single,” Mina agreed.

You started at her in disbelief. “Excuse me, but I’m living a grand life.”

“Please, I’m tired of hearing your love stories with your cat.”

Ten’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Woah! You have a cat? That’s so cool!” he gushed.

You rolled your eyes. “I thought you saw my computer screen already.”

He got onto his feet quickly and bent down to hover over your shoulder. The close proximity between you two sent your heart beating erratically. “Wow... What’s her name? She’s so cute,” he cooed, straightening his spine up.

Your heartbeat went back to normal and you heaved out a sigh in relief. “Sakura, and how do you know she’s a female?”

He held up two fingers. “I have two cats. And I love cats so much that I can accurately guess if they’re a he or she.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, a smirk forming on his face. “I beat you. You have one and I have two cats.”

If you weren’t at work, you would have chucked a pencil at him. And you couldn’t believe your ears. You both had one thing in common after all those childhood years when you’d compare your good self to his bad one.

The day went by super slow, all thanks to the devil. You had given him a tour of the building, trying to keep your cool to the best of your ability whenever he made remarks. Once you explained the work for the day, you tried to focus on your work.

It hadn’t been a few seconds when you felt a poke in the shoulder. “Y/N, how do I do this? What is this supposed to mean? Why are we doing this?”

Like the way your hope did, you wanted to jump out the window.

- ❀ -

A couple of days later, Ten had picked up everything that you taught him, even completing his work faster than you. Your pace had only slowed down a bit because of the living distraction next to you. He had changed the desktop wallpaper to a selfie with his two cats. You weren’t ever going to admit this out loud, but he looked just a little bit cute with the adorable furry felines.

Your boss had announced that there was going to be a lunch party happening at the end of the week to welcome the newly hired employees in the company. Parties and such weren’t your thing anymore. Lifestyle habits changed after adopting your beautiful Sakura. But the reason why you kind of looked forward to it was because of a particular someone from another department.

“You know what this means?” Mina wiggled her eyebrows.

“What?”

“Shoot your shot! Who knows someone will catch your eyes at the party?”

“Or a secret admirer of yours finally asks you out,” Joshua added.

“Which is not happening,” you said. “My luck isn’t that great.”

Flashbacks to your previous failed dates haunted you and you didn’t have it in you to try again. You were happy with Sakura and did your best to stay positive, convincing yourself that your love for your cat was enough to be happy in your successful life.

Your last words had Ten staring at you intently.

- ❀ -

Your group walked to the location of the lunch party on the main floor. Your heart wasn’t exactly beating fast, only doing a few somersaults. Upon entering the main hall, you saw many employees from other departments chatting with one another. Your eyes scanned the area to search for a particular boy.

You found him. He wore a black suit with a white-collar shirt. His dark hair neatly styled. Xiaojun, you believed was his name based on that one time he had delivered a speech at a mass conference. You had never talked to him and didn’t find it in you to do so. You could tell he was way younger than you and that stopped you from approaching him. If you talked to him, it would only make you feel like you were talking to your son than your crush.

Ten followed your line of sight and smirked. “Wow, does my Y/N have a crush on someone?”

Your heart stopped and turned to glare at him. “What the fuck do you mean my Y/N?”

He snickered. “So you like him, huh?”

Sally’s ears piqued interest. “Oh my God! Did I just hear that Y/N has a crush?”

“Finally someone other than her cat!” Mina cried. “Who who?” Her head turned in all directions as if she was going to find someone holding a sign saying ‘I’m her crush.’

You crossed your arms in front of your chest. “Ugh! I don’t! Ten’s just being an asshole.”

“Hey! I only speak the truth!”

Joshua spoke up. “Okay fine Y/N. Let’s say you don’t have a crush. Is there someone in this room that catches your eye?”

Even if someone did, you weren’t going to admit it. But for your colleagues’ sake, you pretended to search the room. “No.”

Before they could force you to go around and show your face, a group of people walked into the hall, carrying various foods for the lunch party and placing them on the white clothed tables lined up near the wall. A guy carried a plate of what looked like chocolates and placed it on the desserts table. You recognized the guy being Yuta, having bumped into him a couple of times when going out for Japanese meals and making small talks. Though you found it weird that he only brought a small box when there were at least two hundred people present.

You remembered Yuta saying that he loved pranking people and if the chocolates were the bait for his next prank, an idea formed in your head.

“Okay guys, I have an idea.”

“Huh?” Mina was bewildered from your sudden declaration.

“I’m going to make your wish come true.”

“Woah what do you mean? You’re gonna ask someone out?” Joshua grew excited by your words.

You nodded. “If someone eats that chocolate Yuta brought without making a reaction, I’ll ask them out on one date.”

Your colleagues showed a mixed reaction of shock and excitement. Ten was silently watching you with his eyes holding a shine.

Yes, you could have been wrong and Yuta may have brought chocolates for people who were lucky to get their hands on it first. But when the first victim when up to take a bite of the chocolate, your theory had turned out right. It was a prank. The woman’s face scrunched up in disgust and turned red.

Ten saw this, trying to think of the possible things that could be inside the chocolates. He could handle spicy things easily, but he didn’t like fruits and hoped those weren’t inside.

He was curious about you, loved annoying you to the point you were pulling your hair. A date sounded like the perfect thing in order to have more fun with you. He knew you’d never agree to one with him, knowing the bad reputation he had as a child. Your reaction to when he first walked into the department on his first day was enough to confirm that you still held onto the ill thoughts of him.  

He walked through the crowds before another person would snatch the opportunity. He observed the round chocolates, definitely handcrafted, and were perfectly sealed off without anyone doubting its contents. He picked one up and headed back to you.

You were puzzled to see Ten hold a piece of Yuta’s chocolate. Your brain feared for the possibility of what Ten had in mind.

Mina squealed. “Don’t tell me you’re going to eat the chocolate Y/N was talking about!”

Ten gave you a mischievous smirk while you shook your head. “Don’t you dare,” you breathed out.

“You didn’t put any restrictions.” While holding eye contact with you, he placed the chocolate in his mouth, not biting it right away.

Your heart felt uneasy. You hoped desperately for Ten to lose the challenge.

He slowly bit into the sweet cocoa shell, testing the filling. He felt the heat of the spicy pungent flavour explode in his mouth, immediately figuring out that the filling was wasabi. Good thing he broke the round shell slowly so he could get used to the taste instead of being thrown under the bus and distorting his face.

Ten chewed calmly as you began panicking. If he finished eating the chocolate without making a single face, you were doomed. Why Ten out of everyone? Why would Ten even be interested in going on a date with you?

After a minute, he opened his mouth.

Your heart dropped.

The pungent smell of wasabi hit your nose but nothing was in his mouth. He finished it.

“So Y/N, this means I get to go out with you,” he stated with a triumph smile.

How do you get away with murder without reading books for ideas?

- ❀ -

You unlocked the door to your apartment, gently opening it to find Sakura sitting by the door, waiting for you excitedly.

“Awe my baby!” you cooed and picked her up.

She nuzzled into your cozy sweater and purred.

“Are you hungry, girl?”

A meow as a reply.

You put her down and made your way to the kitchen. As you prepared her meal, you thought back to Ten’s words on his first day.

I have two cats.

Poor cats. You felt bad for their unfortunate fate of having Ten as their owner.

You placed the elevated food bowl on the counter and called her. She jumped effortlessly onto the counter and stuffed her head inside the bowl.

A notification chimed on your phone, followed by another one, and another one. “Huh, who could that be?” you asked to yourself.

3 unread messages: Ten

You groaned upon seeing the devil’s name. This would only mean one thing.

Ten: tmrw’s saturday

Ten: let’s go on that date

Ten: uwu

You cringed at the last message. He was nowhere near uwu in your eyes. You also didn’t want to go out with him this soon, but it was better to get it over with than having to put it off.

Y/N: fine

Y/N: 2pm at the shopping mall

Ten: see you tmrw babe ;)

You gagged.

- ❀ -

It was 1:52 pm and you waited at the entrance of the mall, scrolling through your gallery on the phone. Why did you come early? A habit of yours. And when you were supposed to be on a ‘date’ with a devil that you despised greatly, it was better to arrive early and calm yourself down before you could murder him at first sight. You chose the mall, thinking it was better to walk around than having to sit across him and look at his face the entire time. Plus, you were almost positive that your window shopping was going to be torturous for Ten.

“Boo!”

“Ah!” You whipped around to see the devil laughing his ass off.

“Oh my God Y/N. You should have seen your face.” Ten mimicked your scream, exaggerating it with a funny face.

You puffed. “Shut up!”

“Okay okay. No need to frown. So what are we here for?” He rubbed his palms together excited for the date.

You rolled your eyes. “This is a shopping mall. We’re obviously here to shop.”

“Yeah but anything in particular?”

You shook your head. If anything caught your eye for Sakura, then that was it. Your plan was to walk around window shopping long enough that Ten would start whining and leave you.

And never dare to go out with you again.

You expected him to play it cool if he didn’t like the idea, but his wide grin and sparkling eyes told you otherwise. “Perfect! We can walk around and see if we find something for our cats. I actually have some art supplies to buy too.”

Your heart dropped, not expecting the uno reverse card.

He noticed your fallen face, knowing the reason behind it and cooed. “Awe your so cute!” He pinched your cheek, in which you swatted his hand away.

He laughed with his crinkling eyes while heat rose up to your cheeks.

“Let’s go!” Ten clung onto your arm and pulled you with him. You didn’t have it in you to pull out of his grasp when your heart was hammering in your chest.

- ❀ -

The next time you arrived at work, you were surprised to find Ten already at his desk. He usually arrived after you.

“Morning Y/N!” he chirped.

You never realized how handsome he really was when sweetly smiling at you.

Every day your cold heart towards him melted whenever he’d ask if you wanted coffee or needed any help. Whenever he’d leave his workspace with his desktop wallpaper displayed on the monitor, you stared at the selfie picture and your heart picked up its pace at the cute cats and Ten’s smile.

One day, you arrived to work with your heart expecting to see the cute kitten in the form of a human, only to be disappointed by his absence. All your colleagues had arrived on time shortly, except for the one beside you. It was past 10 am, an hour after the expected arrival time, which you thought was weird for Ten to be away from work without informing anyone.

Your phone vibrated beside you, displaying an unknown number. “Weird,” you mumbled but answered in case it had something to do with Ten. “Hello?”

“Hello, am I speaking to Y/N?” An unknown female’s voice was heard over the line.

“Yes?”

“Hello, I’m calling from the hospital regarding a patient named Ten.”

Your body froze. Hospital? Patient? “Oh my God! What happened to Ten?” You didn’t know you were loud for others to hear you. A sick feeling formed in your stomach at the thought of Ten being hurt.

“Not to worry too much. He has a minor injury and he requested for you.”

You grabbed your belongings and sprinted out the office.

- ❀ -

Your eyes scanned the room full of patients sitting on the beds, waiting for either the doctor or their loved ones.

“Y/N! Over here!” Your head snapped in his direction, where he sat on the bed with a cast on his arm. The boy really only knew how to smile, even when he was injured with his dominant arm.

“Why the fuck are you here? What happened to you?” you yelled full of anger.

A nurse attending another patient hushed you, and you muttered a sheepish apology.

“I was on my way to work and on the crosswalk-”

“Ten, why don’t you look both ways before crossing the road? Why do you always do reckless things? How are you going to work now? Even worse, how are you going to take care of yourself and your cats?”

“Woah, easy there tiger. It’s just a small cast. I’ll be fine,” Ten waved his free hand in a dismissive manner. “Everything will be okay.”

You groaned, frustrated with his carefree attitude. “Why do you love causing so much trouble? What the hell is wrong with you?”

He didn’t say anything back, opting to stay mute with pursed lips. Of course you wouldn’t have anything to say, you thought.

A man appeared beside you. “Hello. Are you Ten?” he asked the boy on the bed.

Ten nodded. “Yes I am.”

You gave the man a quick glance who wore a black formal suit. He couldn’t be working at the hospital with that kind of attire.

“Hi, I’m Taeyong. I want to sincerely apologize and thank you with all my heart for this morning.”

Wait what? “What happened this morning?” you asked him utterly confused. Why was this man saying thank you and sorry to Ten?

“My son was crossing the road and wasn’t paying attention to the pedestrian lights, almost getting hit by a car.”

You gasped audibly. “Oh no! Is he alright?”

He smiled at you. “Yes he is. All thanks to Ten for jumping into the traffic and saving him.”

Ten? Ten saved a child? Ten risked his safety to save someone? Your heart fluttered as you gaped at the one you’d always call the devil, for once having done an angelic deed to save a child’s life.

Ten avoided your eyes and looked at Taeyong. “It’s not a problem at all. I hope he’s okay.”

Taeyong nodded. “Yes he is. As a form of gratitude, I’d like to pay for your hospital bills.”

“Oh there’s no need-”

“I insist. Please,” Taeyong pleaded, not willing to back down.

Ten let out a deep sigh. “Okay. If you really don’t mind.”

Taeyong smiled warmly. “It’s the least I can do. I’ll take your leave and pay at the front. Take care, Ten.” With that, Taeyong left.

You huffed. “So you were just to leave me in the dark and not tell me?”

He shrugged. “You cut me off before I could explain.”

Oh right. “Sorry,” you mumbled.

He nodded. “Apology accepted... under one condition.”

You rapidly blinked a few times. Condition? “Okay what is it?” You still felt guilty for jumping to conclusion and you were ready to take him on another date if that was what he wanted. But you were still confused that Ten even wanted to go on a date with you earlier.

An innocent smile formed on his face. “I’m going to need help now that my one arm isn’t working.”

You nodded, agreeing to his words, and expected that much. “How can I help?”

“Live with me.”

“WHAT?” You earned another hush from the nearby nurse and apologized again. “I am not living with you. I have Sakura to take care of and she has a problem adjusting to new environments,” you said through gritted teeth.

“Then I’ll come live with you. Louis and Leon have no problem with that,” he stated seriously.

“That doesn’t solve anything. You know our cats have to get used to each other first. Otherwise they’ll just be hissing at each other every day.”

“Anything to do with cats, leave it to me. I’ll fix all the problems.” He smirked for the nth time. “So that means you’re okay with me living with you, huh?”

If he didn’t have a cast on him, you would have grabbed the pillow off the bed and chucked it at his face.

- ❀ -

“Your place is pretty cute. Like you,” Ten said while his eyes wandered around your small apartment. You heard him say the last part but chose to ignore it, assuming that he was either lying or joking.

The old you would have never agreed to let Ten live with you. But your feelings were slowly developing for the devil and you wanted to slap yourself for that. Why Ten out of anyone? And even though you went out with Ten, why was he okay with you?

Oh yes, you both had cats.

All your previous dates had made a dash towards the exit upon hearing your love for your cat. It was only three dates, but it was enough for you to pull the brakes on dating. You couldn’t figure why they had a problem with that. Wasn’t it normal to have a pet? Maybe yours was taking it a little too far and it seemed more like an obsession. You only ever thought about Sakura, bringing every little thing to connect to Sakura during the conservations. Every time you looked at your date, your mind went on overdrive thinking about what Sakura was up to. You had a security camera set up in the living room to check on her through the phone app.

Needless to say, you were more concerned about your cat than your dates, and that made you never hear back from them again.

Upon entry of the strangers in her home, Sakura ran up to the highest tier of the cat tower, hissing as her little furs stood up.

“Sakura don’t worry. They won’t hurt you,” you spoke softly while patting her backside.

Ten chuckled. “Sakura is feisty, just like you.”

You glared at him. “I never show my feisty side.”

He scoffed. “Please, it’s literally written all over your face.” He smirked and added, “It’s quite entertaining.”

You scowled.

Sakura continued hissing in the direction of the other cats. Louis and Leon were still in their carriers, looking around curiously through the windows.

“Meow?”

“Yes Leon, we’re staying here until I get better.” Ten took out a blanket from one of his bags and spread it out in the living room. He unzipped Leon’s carrier and waited for the cat to courageously come out. After a few seconds of popping his head out and looking around, Leon hopped out and nuzzled against the familiar blanket, not minding the hissing from the top of the tower.

Louis was next, and unlike Leon, Louis began his tour around his temporary home.

“When do you have to take your pain medication?” you asked.

“Before dinner. What should we eat?”

“You’re the patient. You should decide.”

He hummed for a bit. “How about ramen? I’m craving for those instant ramen noodles.”

Wow. You could really start tallying up all the similarities that you both had, and the thought of it made your heart skip a beat.

“Perfect. I have a stash of it,” you replied.

He grinned at you and you looked away from his eyes, coughing out of nervousness. “Um, for bed you can either take my room or sleep on this pull-out daybed here.” You were grateful for your selection of a furniture that came three-in-one for your living room. Sofa, additional storage, and bed. It was wiser to go for a multifunctional product when living in an apartment.

Ten’s eyes narrowed in amusement. “Wow is F/N L/N really giving up the bedroom for me?”

You froze. You didn’t think of it beforehand and worried if your heart was going to get caught. He was injured and you didn’t have it in you to force him on the daybed when he could feel better on your queen-sized bed. But if he was going to pull your leg, then you were going to take back the offer. “Fine, be in the living room.”

He smiled kindly. “I wouldn’t take your room even if you insisted. But I really appreciate the thought, Y/N,” he spoke softly.

The way his eyes brightened when fixed on you had your heart ready to jump out the window.

- ❀ -

Sakura’s bed was usually in the living room. But because of the strangers that hijacked there, she moved into your bedroom. It didn’t really make a big difference to you as she sometimes slept next to you in bed. Meanwhile, you were surprised that Louis and Leon had adjusted fairly quickly to both the new home and its owners.

You got out of the bathroom after taking your bedtime shower, cuing Ten to go in next. Walking into the kitchen, you prepared a glass of warm milk for yourself. Leon and Louis began meowing and purring at your drink and so you decided to prepare three bowls of it. You placed the bowls for Leon and Louis down on the floor, in which they began sipping immediately, while keeping Sakura’s on the counter, her preferred location for meals and away from the ‘intruders.’ You picked her up and transported her to the counter, keeping her far away as possible from the other cats.

“Y/N, can you help me?”

You headed to the direction of the bathroom and found him standing like a kicked puppy. “What is it?”

“I need help taking my clothes off.”

“WHAT?” You were not going to strip him naked.

He laughed hard, holding his stomach. “Chill I was joking. At least for the bottoms. Can you help me take off my shirt?”

You felt your cheeks heat up, bashful at the request. Well this was what he meant when he said he needed help, you thought.

You moved to stand in front of him. Your fingers hesitated to touch his shirt and Ten watched you with an entertained expression. Taking a deep breath which you smelled your favourite body wash coming from him, you grasped the hem of his shirt and slowly pulled it upward. You weren’t trying to look at his abs knowing it was going to freak you out. But when your eyes landed on his six-pack abs, you yelped and accidentally tugged on his injured arm.

“Ow!”

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!”

He chuckled. “Calm down Y/N. My abs aren’t gonna come to life and bite you. I think you should pull the sleeve out of my arm first and then pull it up.”

You did as he said and eventually got him free of his top. So now you were standing in front of a shirtless Ten, his abs staring at you, your eyes avoiding him, and you felt like your cheeks were on fire.

“It’ll be easier to wear a sleeveless shirt... or no shirt at all. Your reactions are so cute to watch,” he cooed.

“Have some manners at least for Sakura.”

- ❀ -

Before you left for work the next morning, Sakura had surprisingly warmed up to Ten. That was good news because she continued hissing at her new housemates. Having at least one soul at home who she wasn’t afraid of would bring her relief. Louis and Leon didn’t give her much attention and minded their own business.

At work, it felt weird to not have Ten next to you even though he was living at your place. The office environment felt different without him just as it felt different when he first joined the company. You used to be irritated of having him as your work buddy, and it was funny that you recently liked having him around, especially when work got stressful. He’d always add humour to every situation and your colleagues loved him for it, motivating them to work with a calmer mind.

Your colleagues asked you about him and when you filled them in on what happened, you wondered what was going on at home without you. You pulled out your phone and went on the security camera app. A hand flew to your mouth before you could scream.

“What is it, Y/N?” Sally asked and appeared behind you, looking at your screen. “Oh my goodness. This is...”

“What what what?” Mina ran up, followed by Joshua.

“Woah,” he breathed out, upon seeing a shirtless Ten lazing around in the living room.

You should have expected it from his words the previous night. Ten was playing with Sakura and your heart was far from okay seeing the two kittens you had a soft spot for being friendly with one another.

“So did the date happen with Ten yet?” Mina asked.

You nodded. “Yeah it did. We went to the mall.”

“Ooo~ How did it go?” Joshua asked.

“Of course it had to have gone well enough for Ten to be living with Y/N,” Sally winked in your way.

Sally was right in the sense that the date went well. Even though you weren’t a fan of Ten back when the date happened, you couldn’t lie to yourself that the date itself wasn’t fun. It was fun going to the different shops to check out cool outfits that looked jaw-dropping good on Ten, and buy some new toys for the cats. You both went to a Japanese restaurant and had sushi for lunch. The wasabi that was provided with the meal made you think back to the wasabi chocolate that Ten ate to win a date with you.

How did it taste like, you thought.

- ❀ -

One day, a meeting in the morning had bad news broken to your team. The deadline for a particular project was the next day, which meant that your entire team had to work overtime to complete it. You texted Ten of the news and he replied saying to not worry about him or the cats. You felt bad that he was going to have to handled everything on his own with his injured arm and an additional cat on top of his. Even though it was a matter of few seconds to check the security camera and see if everything was all right, your stress kept your brain preoccupied with the urgent assignment at hand and not check on the situation at home.

When you arrived home after eleven at night, you were greeted by three cats waiting for you behind the door. Your tired brain noticed that Sakura wasn’t hissing at Louis and Leon, meaning that she had finally warmed up to her new friends.

“Oh my goodness... Ten! Did you see Sakura-” You went speechless upon your entry into the living room.

Ten stood smiling at you with a canvas sitting on an easel behind him. The canvas was a painting of what looked like flowers and vines in the background that surrounded... your face?

“How did you... your arm?” You were impressed that Ten had painted it with his non-dominant hand.

“Being in here all day, I tried painting with my free hand. I’m sorry if it didn’t turn out good.” He bit his lip nervously.

You were dumbfounded. “Are you kidding me? This is so cool! It’s literally flawless. But what is this supposed to be?”

He smiled genuinely at you. “It’s a painting of you blooming around plants. There’s something I want to confess...” he trailed off nervously scratching his head.

Your heart beated faster, hoping that it was something good that he wanted to confess after showing the painting of you.

“I really like you, Y/N. I know I’m not in your good books, but I promise to be one from now on. So if you’re willing to give me a chance, will you let me be your boyfriend?” he asked with a hopeful expression.

You blinked, not believing your ears that Ten liked you back. “You seriously like me?”

He chuckled anxiously. “Yeah. I did ever since the first time I saw you again at work.”

Woah. “So that’s why you wanted to date me,” you breathed out.

He nodded. You grew silent and so he raised an eyebrow. “Aren’t you going to confess back?”

“What?”

“I know you like me too.” His infamous smirk made a comeback. “It’s so obvious and written all over your face every day.”

“Ten?”

“Yes?”

“Shut up.”

“I see you’re not denying it.”

You pursed your lips but failed to stop the smile from spilling onto your face. “Okay you win. I like you too.” You were ecstatic that you were not only going to live a successful life, but a satisfied one as well.

“Good, because there’s another surprise for you in the kitchen,” he stated.

You blinked at him. “What?”

“You’ll see,” he smiled innocently.  

Walking into the kitchen, you found what Ten was talking about. You brought the heart shaped box wrapped with red gift wrap to the living room, excitedly unwrapping it and opening the box in front of him.

The contents of the box being heart shaped chocolates.

“Awe, this is so cute.” You took a bite without any hesitancy and your face scrunched up miserably.

Wasabi.

Ten’s laughter resonated off the walls of your apartment as you dropped the box on the coffee table and sprinted to the kitchen, spitting it into the trash. You stormed back to Ten and crossed your arms angrily.

“You literally promised!” you yelled.

“Yeah I did. But I never said that these chocolates were for you to eat.”

“You said it was a surprise for me,” you deadpanned.

“Yeah but your surprise is this.” He picked up a piece and popped it in his mouth, chewing it as if there was no spicy filling inside it. Once he swallowed it all, he opened his mouth for proof. You were confused as to why he willingly ate the wasabi chocolate. Though you did slightly swoon over how sexy he looked when he ate the bomb so effortlessly. He closed his mouth and grinned at you.

“You owe me another date.”

#nct #wayv #chittaphon leechaiyapornkul #chittaphon fluff #chittaphon x reader #nct ten #wayv ten #nct x reader #nct fanfic #nct fanfiction #charm

[mieohmy]

𝖨𝗇 𝖺 𝖥𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗁 | 𝖢𝗁𝗐𝖾 𝖵𝖾𝗋𝗇𝗈𝗇

PAIRING: the Flash! chwe vernon x reader

GENRE: fluff, humor, angst, friends-to-lovers, superhero! au

WC: 4.4k

NOTES: mentions of violence, trauma, FIRE, injury, nothing major (when Vernon is acting as the Flash, his voice is altered to protect his identity (duh) so that’s why y/n is obviously not able to tell who he is ^^ )

SUMMARY: it started with cookies. that’s all you wanted, really. but you got a bonus with it, except you wouldn’t really call it a bonus- just a... lovely addition that happened to steal your heart in a flash, whether you knew it or not.

  ❧

“Don’t touch that!” you whisper exasperatedly to your little cousin. You were exhausted. How did parents do it? You planned on going to the mall to get some cookies from the best bakery you’ve ever gone to, and your aunt conveniently wanted her kids to see Santa at the mall. So you offered to take them there with you, to give her a break because you knew a four-year-old and a six-year-old were a l o t of work. 

You were waiting in the line for Santa, your little cousins bouncing and messing with the decorations. You stared ahead, counting the number of people in front of you. You sighed. One more kid until I can get my cookies. 

You loved your cousins, really, little Camden and Hana. But the E N E R G Y. You frowned, were you like that when you were young? As soon as you finish that thought, the line moves up, and you’re at the front! Camden looks up at you. “How much longer?” he whines. You smile. “We’re almost there. Just wait a little more, alright?” Hana pouts, and you grab her tiny baby hands and swing them, hoping to cheer her up.

As she giggles, one of the worker elves calls out, “Next!” You look at them with a bright expression, gesturing them forward before being interrupted by a loud CRASH and BOOM. 

You immediately look around, hearing screams and chaos. You’re frozen, until a strange whiz! passes by you, hair blowing back from the speed. You recoil before remembering the kids(!!) and look down. Camden’s near you, ears plugged, and you sigh in relief. Then suddenly, the image of Hana pops into your mind, and you inhale. 

Head whirling, you search the place. You hear more screams, and is that the smell of burning? Where is she???? She wasn’t standing next to you, and you have absolutely no idea where she went. You feel a wave of fear course through you. You bend down to Camden, grabbing his shoulders. You don’t notice your hands shaking. “Listen, Camden. Wait here and do not move. I promise I’ll be back soon ok?” He nods, hands plugging his ears as you leave. You run around the central plaza where Santa was sitting.  

You see flames, hearing the roar and shiver, still frantically scanning the area. People are disappearing, probably escaping as they should be, but you can’t leave Hana. You run around the circle until you hear a familiar whimper. Your eyes zero in on a miniature house that was a part of the Christmas decorations. You squint, and you think you see a little girl’s body huddled inside the house. You hear the roars and crackling growing louder, but you ignore it. 

Running to the house, you crouch and look it through the window holes. Hana’s inside, huddled and whimpering. You’ve never felt such relief run through you before. “Oh god. Hana...” you murmur. She looks up at you, tears at the corners of her eyes. It almost causes you to tear up as well. Voice shaky, you call her name. You feel waves of heat from behind you, but you focus your attention on her. “Hana, please come out. We need to get out of here.” She shakes her head. “I’m scared... it’s really hot in here..” “I know,” you look back, seeing flames surrounding the area, causing your heart to clench. “But you need to get out. Then we’ll be safe, alright?” You slowly open the door to the house and hold out your arms. Hana slowly creeps forward, and you immediately take her into your embrace. 

Turning around, you see the fire encasing you two. Letting out a shaky breath, you just hold Hana tighter, squeezing your eyes shut and thinking, “Is this it? Oh no.. I left Camden alone. What kind of person am I? How-“ You don’t get to finish as you feel a gust of wind and maybe a hand around your waist. 

You open your eyes and suddenly, it’s like you’ve been teleported outside. Glancing down, Hana’s still in your arms, staring at you. Sighing in relief, you bury your face in her hair, letting out muffled thank god’s and we’re safe. 

You hear a noise and look up, mouth opening in surprise. The Flash?! He looks down at you two, eyes widening in shock. He coughs before asking, “Are you two alright?” You can only slowly nod, processing everything. He’s about to leave when you grab his hand. Sucking in a breath, you look him in the eyes. A familiar warmness to them. “I- just, thank you. You have no idea how indebted I am to you.” The Flash nods. “It’s no problem. It’s my duty.” He looks around before mentioning, “Didn’t you have uh- a little boy with you two?” It didn’t dawn on you how he knew, but you were distracted with what he said. 

Shooting up, you immediately think of Camden. Shoot. You spot him with his parents, crying as they comfort him. Once he sees you and Hana coming over, he runs into your embrace. You tightly hug him and Hana, looking back at the Flash with a small smile on your face. He returns the smile before disappearing in a second. 

❧

Your friends rush to hug you, all talking about the “Unexpected explosion at the Westpointe Mall.” You laugh, “I’m fine. It was honestly scary, and I’m a little traumatized, but everyone’s okay.” “Thanks to the Flash,” your friend adds. “I owe my life to him,” you say, eyes sparkling as you imagine him saving you. Your friends let out an ooooh, and you groan before denying anything. You chat with them for a little before receiving a text. 

It’s from Vernon. You quickly tell your friends you have to go, them all teasing you about your ‘date’ (that you dismiss with an eye roll). 

Walking out, you spot him, and he quickly brings you into his arms. You didn’t exactly know what your relationship with him was.  You always denied it, saying the classic, we’re just friends, but anyone could tell you two definitely had something more. 

You inhale, smelling his comforting scent. “I heard about what happened,” he mumbles into your hair. You just nod, enjoying his comforting embrace.

You pull back, and he leads you to his car. Settling inside, Vernon plays some cringy old love songs, and you giggle, the both of you singing along. When you arrive at the cafe, you both order before finding a seat. “So,” Vernon starts. “What, uh, is the whole story?” You swallow before recounting the whole incident. 

“And then the Flash suddenly comes in! I owe everything to him, he saved Hana and me. He was so cool and brave..” You realize you’re rambling before looking back at him. His ears are red, and he’s smiling slightly, you note. “Wow. Well, uh-I guess he seems like a nice guy ?” Vernon replies awkwardly. You raise an eyebrow. “Why are you acting so weird all of a sudden?” He chokes on his drink. “What? ha, whaddya mean?” 

You narrow your eyes at him. Then it hits you. Your eyes widen, and you snap your fingers. “I know what it is. You’re-“ Vernon suddenly reaches up and covers your mouth with his hand, you’ve never seen him so panicked before. In the process of doing so, he accidentally knocks your fork, but quickly catches it with his other hand. Your eyebrows raise in shock at his incredibly fast reflexes, then you remove his hand from your mouth. Leaning in, you speak in a hushed voice, “Vernon... it’s okay to be jealous. It’s not a big deal. Besides, I’ve known you for years and only met the Flash once. Of course, I would choose you over him, dummy.” 

Vernon dramatically sinks back into the seat in relief, placing his hand over his face before sitting up and returning to you. “Yeah sure, you’re right. I shouldn’t be jealous..” You laugh and place your hand over his comfortingly, not removing it until you two leave the cafe.

❧

“-crime rates are rising. Be careful when you go out, people! Especially in places with large gatherings! Well, that was your-“ you shut off the TV. It's been getting more dangerous recently, you think. There have been more and more bombing attacks going off, and the Flash has been rescuing the people from all of them. You shiver, remembering the heat. Flames flickering over you. Hana’s cries. Your respect for the superhero grows. You shake your head, getting into bed. 

You didn’t tell anyone so they didn’t worry, but you had been having recurring nightmares after the event at the mall. Sometimes it was just flames burning you or you not being able to save Hana and Camden. But whenever you woke up, there was always a bitter, smoky aftertaste in your mouth. It got really bad sometimes, so you would either watch social media and eventually pass out or stay up the night, unable to fall back asleep. 

Today was unfortunately one of the latter nights. You throw off all the blankets, it was wintertime, but you could only feel the heat. The images flash in your head again. Bright. Loud. Pain. You exhale shakily. Your first instinct is to reach for your phone and call Vernon. 

“y/n??” you hear his raspy voice. Your whole body sweating, you reply in a small voice, “Can you please come over, now?” There’s a pause before he responds, “On my way.”

All you say to him when he arrives is, “I can’t sleep..” and he guides you to your bed, going in after you. He wraps his arms around you, probably already drifting off. It was really hot before, but Vernon’s heat was comforting and tranquil. You slip off before you know it. 

❧

You’re walking to the grocery store when you’re stopped by the sound of police sirens and disorder. Another bombing, you overhear. “There are so many bombings. What’s really going on?” you wonder. Your curiosity gets to the best of you, and you walk over to the commotion. There are police talking to huddled people, obviously traumatized. 

And then you see him. The Flash. He was talking to a policewoman, and you continue to stare at him. He seems so familiar to you, but you can’t place where and when you might've seen him before, excluding the one time he saved you. He must’ve noticed because he says goodbye to the police and walks over to you. 

You’re surprised. You didn’t think a superhero had time to talk to a normal person like you. He stops in front of you. You look up at him curiously, admiring his suit. “So how’re the kids?” You’re confused for a moment, but then you laugh. “They’re fine, I think. Luckily you saved them so hopefully, there are no scars,” unlike me. He smiles. “Where are you going? Uh, just to be safe. Don’t want someone walking at night by themselves.” You allow a small smile to form. “I can take care of myself, but thanks anyway. I’m just going to the mart. Don’t you have other things to do?” He shrugs as you two continue walking down the street. “Not unless there’s another bombing.” 

When you arrive at the front of the mart, the Flash awkwardly shifts from foot to foot. You glance at him, confused. “I, um, shouldn’t go inside there, you know. My suit and all.” You laugh. “That’s what you’re worried about? The suit? I would expect the fan girls rushing to take a picture with you, but don’t worry, I won't ask, mr. superhero.” He grins. “I’ll wait for you here then.” 

You don’t actually expect the Flash to be there when you exit the store, things in hand, but he’s there. He spots you. “Finally, it was getting weird standing here alone. Luckily no one asked for a picture.” You smile, before shuffling through your bags, “I bought some snacks as thanks for you, but the only place I think is open at this time is my place. We could go there to eat if you have time, that is..” You don’t know why your cheeks feel hot. He pauses for a minute, before shrugging. “Sure.”

You open the door, saying, “Please excuse the mess,” as you let the Flash into your apartment. You might be internally freaking out. He walks in as if he’s been here a thousand times before. “Oh, nice place?” You smile. “Thanks. We can go to my balcony and eat. It’s pretty tonight.” 

Leading him out, you show the snacks you bought. It was mostly snacks that Vernon forced you to try and were now your favorites. You look at him nervously. “I hope these are okay?” He seems pleasantly surprised. “Yeah, these are fine.” 

You two chat about your life, his superhero stuff. It was surprisingly refreshing as you gaze at the night, clear and stars shining bright. You turn to look at him and find him already looking at you. Your breath hitches. It suddenly feels a lot warmer. You think he’s leaning in, maybe you’re leaning in until a sudden breeze blows past and you shiver. The Flash inhales. “You should uh, get inside. It’s cold and getting late..” “Right,” you said, breaking out of your trance. 

But before you go in, you look back. “Will I see you again?” He only smiles. “Take care.” And then he’s gone in an instant. You fall asleep that night, no nightmares. 

❧

You do see the Flash again. Around two weeks later, he comes crashing into your apartment.  “Oh my god, you-“ He groans, collapsing on your couch. “What happened??” He coughs. “Another bombing. Got everyone out in time but barely.” His suit is all scorched and red. You wince at the burns. 

Hesitantly, you ask, “Can you remove your suit? T-to treat the burns?” He can only nod. Grabbing your med-kit, you sit on the ground next to him. “I won’t mess with your mask..” you softly murmur, “but if it’s bad, I’ll promise not to look, cause you’re in no shape to do it yourself.” 

You assist him in taking off the top part of his suit. You remind yourself to focus and not get distracted. The burns are red and harsh, and you shudder at the thought that you could’ve been through that if it wasn’t for the Flash. Taking the burn ointment, you warn him before softly rubbing it on top. He groans in pain, and you try your best to soothe him, gripping his hand tightly with your free one. 

It goes on for the rest of the night, and he passes out on your couch. The next morning, he’s gone with a simple scrawly thank you written on a notepad. You wonder how he found it because it was in a drawer that he did not know about, or at least you thought. Your thought is momentarily forgotten as you remember to text Vernon. 

Recently, Vernon had been busy and wasn’t texting you often, which you understood. But today, you were supposed to meet up later with him, just to hang out because you felt like you haven’t seen him in so long. 

Once you get there, he’s sitting down, anxiously bouncing his knee. You immediately brighten. “Vernon! I missed you.. What’ve you been up to that’s been taking you from me?” you pout. He nervously smiles. “Just school and work ya know??” You frown, but mumble “Alright..” You two catch up, and you tell him about the Flash, recounting that one night under the stars. You leave out the ending, though. Vernon’s eyebrows raise comically. “Geez, that’s cool. A superhero hung out with you? I’m jealous..” You nod excitedly. You decide not to tell him about the one night with the Flash’s unexpected visit. It didn’t seem right. 

As you two get up to leave, you notice Vernon limping. “Vernon?” you ask. He looks back at you. “What’s up?” You examine his body. He’s slightly hunched over like he’s injured. “Why are you limping??” He freezes. “I-well- I didn’t want to tell you.., but someone spilled their hot water over my legs... and yeah.” You open your mouth, but Vernon stops you. “It was an accident, alright? No need to get angry.” “I just care about you a lot,” you huff. He assures you by enlacing your hands together. You sigh but decide to let it go. 

❧

The Flash shows up at your place several times. By that, you mean at least once a week. The bombings are getting more and more frequent, and you’re not sure why. All the attacks are random, and the CIA still haven’t found any information on the bombers yet, so it’s up to the Flash to save them. Each time, he comes back with more and more injuries. 

Around the ninth(?) time he shows up, you frown in disapproval. “Listen, this is too much. There are so many bombings going on, and everyone expects you to save them all. You can’t keep doing this by yourself. Where are the police and security?” He just shrugs in defeat. “It’s my duty to help the city. This is my job, and if I have to save people from bombs daily, then I will.” You pout. “It’s not fair. Why can’t I be a superhero too so I can help you?” He laughs before wincing in pain. 

You tend to his injuries once more. Yes, he had accelerated healing, but constantly getting burned and hurt was taking a toll on him. Plus, you could tell he was just physically and mentally exhausted. Once you were done, you stare at him. His eyes were closed, so you assumed he had fallen asleep, but suddenly they flicker open. That’s when you notice the dark eye circles underneath them, even with the mask on. 

He just stares back at you, before softly muttering, “I’m so tired..” You’re about to respond, but he grabs your arm and pulls you forth, so your face is a lot closer to his than before. Frozen, you open your mouth to say something, but he leans up and places his lips on yours. Your eyes instinctively close. You’re not sure how long it lasts, but you’re finally able to pull back. He’s already half-asleep, exhausted. You quietly turn off the lights and leave him to rest. 

❧

Vernon was drained. Balancing his superhero life and normal life was getting difficult recently. With all the attacks, he was constantly stopping by your place as the Flash, then zooming back to his place to be Vernon again. His life was getting extremely hectic and busy, but he knew it came with being the city’s hero.

 He doesn’t know why he started stopping by your place, especially risking his identity being exposed. Maybe it was just the exhaustion or wanting to see you. It was really difficult to hide his identity from his friends, especially you. He was so busy and had no time to hang out with anyone, constantly saving lives and then going to classes and work immediately after. 

Finally having some free time to do his schoolwork, Vernon types away on his computer. He needed to take full advantage and catch up, because well, his grades weren’t doing too well. A notification catches his attention. It’s an email from... the CIA? 

The CIA contacted him? They’re the only ones who knew Vernon’s identity and promised to keep it a secret in return for working alongside them.  He’s shocked when he reads the email. It’s simple. Meet up at a restaurant today. 3 pm sharp. 

Once he gets there, he sees an officer waiting for him, beckoning. After he sits, the officer leans in. “We were able to track the bombers down and find the whereabouts of their next attack.” His eyes widen. They tracked the attackers down? The officer continues, “The next bombing is tomorrow, 7 PM at the Art Galleria. Get the bomb before they can set it off. We’re gonna be closing it but get all surrounding people out if necessary, and we’ll take care of the rest.” Vernon nods, processing the information. The officer gives him a last, don’t be late, and sets off, leaving Vernon to sit alone. 

❧

The next morning, you’re texting Vernon, telling him about your exams in the afternoon and asking if he wanted to go see ‘Picasso’s art’ with you around dinner time after you finish. He texts back a small, “No sorry I’m busy later :/“ thinking about his “plans” for that evening. You respond with “awww, it’s ok. I’ll go by myself and I’ll be safe! Promise! Also- don’t text me during my exams, my phone will be off!” Vernon smiles, putting his phone away in his pocket. 

He carries on with his day until around six-thirty. He’s visualizing the plans that’ll happen in about thirty minutes while also thinking about how he can make it up to you for not being able to go. 

Then it hits him. Picasso’s art? That’s at the art galleria. Which meant you were going to the art galleria later today. Around dinner time. The next bombing was in thirty minutes. Shit, he thinks, hand reaching for his phone before remembering your text. 

Your phone is off. You’re probably concentrating on your exams, then going to the art galleria without knowing anything. He sighs, running his hand through his hair. It’s fine. He’ll just somehow find you before you get there and move you to a safer place. 

He ignores what you said and texts you anyway. He types, ‘Y/n, don’t go to the galleria, no matter what. Just listen to me please.” Vernon also texts your friends, hoping one of them will catch you and give the message. 

Groaning frustratedly, he decides to put on his suit and go look for you. Making up an excuse in his head, Vernon runs around the art galleria, passing by everyone with a gust. But he can’t find you. Vernon was getting annoyed. It was getting closer to seven, and he needed to find the bomb. Where were you? 

He spots the police. They’re surrounding the whole place, getting ready to help people once he gets them out and preparing to arrest the bad guys. Vernon searches, but you’re nowhere to be found. He can only hope you’re not here. He zooms past the guards, going in and flying through the whole place. He grabs every person in sight and moves them out in 5 minutes. Now to find the bomb. 

He frowns. Why are there so many people at the galleria today? He just wanted to know where you are. He dashes into one of the exhibits, filled with paintings. He immediately stops. 

It’s you. You’re held by a hooded man, three other dark figures in the room next to what he figures is the bomb. 

Vernon’s heart plummets. How did he not catch you before? He can only look as the man laughs, holding you close with his arm tightly over your chest. Vernon can’t read the expression on your face, but you’re rigid, and your hands and feet are tied. The man grips you harsher. “Well, if it isn’t the little Flash. Move one inch and the bomb goes, along with the girl.” 

Internally, Vernon scoffs. He could take this whole group out in two seconds flat. But he was worried about you. He contemplated his chances, before lunging forward. He deals a few blows to the man before moving to you, undoing your arms and legs. Then he wrangles everyone and brings them out front to the police, everyone in slow motion. 

Strolling back into the galleria, he smashes the bomb with his foot. All in a few seconds. You gasp when you see suddenly him by your side, huddled over you. “Are you alright?” You could’ve gotten seriously hurt,” anger seeping through his voice. You frown. “I’m fine. I said I could take care of myself.” Raising his voice, he snaps, “You could’ve died! How did you even get in here? I went through the whole place, and you were the only person I wasn’t able to get.” 

You sigh. “Why do you care so much? Is it because you’re actually one of my closest friends?” He freezes. What? 

“Vernon,” your voice cracks. “Why didn’t you tell me?” His eyes slowly land on you. You’re sitting on the ground, arms around your knees, and staring at the ground like a hurt child. 

Vernon tried to respond, but nothing comes out. You stand up, shaky, but manage to take a couple of steps before he grabs your arm. “Y/n... I-“ but you interrupt him. “Do you like me? Like actually like me?” you ask softly, trying to catch his eye. He finally looks at you, swallowing. “Yeah.. and no. I love you Y/n. And I’m sorry for not telling you, no one knows except for the CIA. I just wanted you to be safe, and especially after today, I can’t lose you.”

You think you feel tears form in your eyes as you throw your arms around him. He relaxes, relishing in your warmth. You’re about to release him, but he tightens his arms around you. You look up, and Vernon leans down to capture your lips with his. It feels warm and you ignore the fluttering in your stomach. 

Breaking the kiss, Vernon realizes something. “Wait.... how did you know I was the Flash?” You roll your eyes, a grin on your face. “It was so obvious, whenever I brought it up you acted soo awkward.” He squeezes your waist playfully, letting out an oh my goddd. You look at him in amusement. “But really, it was after the Flash-I mean you- kissed me that one night. I dunno, it felt like I was kissing you.. and then after that, it just kinda clicked.”

Vernon thoughtfully nods before saying, “You know, we’re literally just standing in the middle of an exhibit. We should probably get out of here. I’m thinking Chinese tonight?” You smile widely. “Whatever you want, mr. flash-who’s-also-my-boyfriend-now?” He grins before picking you up in his arms, zooming off into the night.

❧

You think it’s pretty cool to have a superhero boyfriend. Especially one that can take you to get cookies at your favorite bakery in exactly 2.4 seconds (yes, you timed it). 

#seventeen #seventeen vernon #vernon chwe #chwe hansol #chwe hansol x reader #vernon x reader #vernon imagines #vernon scenarios #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagines #seventeen scenarios #vernon chwe imagines #vernon fluff #hansol vernon chwe

[stardusttrashed]

Meet the Bakugos

Pairing: Katsuki Bakugo x Fem reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: Y/n convinces Katsuki to take her to meet his parents and Katsuki isn’t quite sure how to handle it

Bakugo knocked on your dorm room door impatiently. His fingertips sparked as his palms began to sweat from his nervousness. “Well don’t you look all doll up,” he smirked, taking in your red and black flowery dress that landed mid-thigh. Seeing you in a dress was a rare occasion for him. It was a nice difference, not that he could get himself to admit that to you. At least not yet. 

“Shut your damn mouth Katsuki,” you rolled your eyes before walking back into your room. Bakugou took it upon himself to walk inside the room, closing the door behind him.

“When’d you get that,” he asked as he plopped down in your desk chair. “Been holding back on me?” He busied his mind by tidying the already clean desk, shifting your knick-knacks a little. His hands settled for fidgeting with the stress ball lying on your desk.

“Asked Momo to make it for me.” You slipped on some shoes. “Well, technically Ururaka asked her for me after she found out what we’re doing today. She asked her to make this too,” you informed him before tossing him a red short-sleeved button up top. “They thought it’d be cute for us to match.”

“You told them?! Damn blabbering woman! Why’d the hell did they need to know?” Katsuki set the ball down to examine the shirt, scoffing quietly. 

“Cause they’re my friends and I wanted them to know we’re dating! Plus I’m gonna meet your parents, that’s kinda a big thing dummy. Now cool it and put the shirt on bakubitch.” You walked over to him and playfully shoved him only to have him catch your hand. 

“Not gonna happen… baku’s bitch,” he laughed cockily, pressing a quick kiss to your newly formed fist. He laid the shirt across your desk as he stood up. 

“I hate you, idiot,” you huffed, sending him your best pouty face. You watched as the resolve in his fiery eyes slowly dissolved, giving in to your wish. With an annoyed grumble, he began to strip off his shirt, grabbing the shirt from the back and over his head. Your eyes feasted upon the ripples of his muscles. Sure, you’d seen them countless times at this point, but he was always a sight to behold.

“Happy now,” Katsuki asked sarcastically, his fingers working on the final button of the shirt. He tried to maintain his look of annoyance, but your shy smile made it hard to do anything but smile back. “You’re a real pain in the ass.”

“Guess that’s why we get along.”

You walked with a distance between the two of you as you made your way out of the dorms. Never mind the fact that the whole class of 1-A probably already knew you had been dating Katsuki for nearly two months. Honestly, they probably thought you two had been dating longer than you actually have. There was always that energy between the pair of you, but nothing ever happened- not in front of others anyways. That was just how you and Bakugou did things. Training together and the occasional movie night cuddles were the extent of your PDA on campus. Katsuki kept most things private, determined to savor every moment with you without having to share. You were his and his alone. His hand found its way into yours the moment you stepped foot out of the UA gates. 

You leaned over, gently pressing your lips to his soft skin. You could feel his already sun-heated cheeks grow slightly warmer under your lips. You couldn’t help yourself. The way his skin glowed under the golden light made him look like a god. Yet here he was, all yours. “Oi, cut that out.”

“I couldn’t help it,” you giggled, doing it again. “You just look really cute.” You teased your fingers through his hair, trying to push straggling stands out of his face. “My cute little sparky porcupine, love you.” Once again you pressed your lips to his cheek before giving him a quick peck on the lips. 

“You keep this up and we’re going back to the dorm,” Katsuki snarled, dropping your hand. It quickly made itself a new home, wrapping around your waist, tugging you closer to him. There was little space left between you, barely enough for a cup. His thumb traced along the curve of your waist teasingly slow. His crimson eyes burned into yours as he rested his forehead on yours, cockily waiting for you to challenge him. It was a part of you that he loved seeing the most. Watching you stand up to him despite always being so quiet. He’d be lying if he said it didn’t turn him on a little.

“Like I’d let you. I won the bet fair and square,” you huffed. “And if you don’t, believe me, I’ll happily kick your ass again,” you smirked, poking your finger into his chest.

It was a little game you two liked to play to up the stakes of training. Whenever you’d spar there had to be something to fight for. It was typically just something like the winner gets to be the little spoon later. Yesterday’s sparring match’s stake was a little different though. How you got on the subject of meeting each other’s parents you didn’t really know. Either way, Bakugou had proposed that the loser has to take the other to dinner with their parents. He thought he could easily win, but you proved him otherwise. Twice. 

“Come on, we don’t want to be late.”

“I wouldn’t mind,” Katsuki mumbled, rubbing his nose against yours. “We could go back and cuddle.” 

“Do you really not want me to meet your parents that bad?”

“It’s not that, it’s just- my mom can be kind of a hardass. You’d be the first one to meet her-.”

“I thought I was your only girlfriend so far?”

“You are, idiot. I meant out of everyone… well except Deku. But, you’d be the first friend, and girlfriend, that I’ve introduced to her and my dad.”

You cupped his cheek in your hand before kissing him softly. “It’s okay to be nervous, I am too. I promise I’ll be on my best behavior. Besides, we’ve taken on villains before, she can’t be as bad,” you tried to cheer him up, only to earn a half-amused scoff. “I’ll manage suki, for all you know me and your parents could become better friends than you and I.” You pulled away from him just enough so he could take in all of your brilliant smile. 

“Please stop,” Katsuki grimaced at the thought. “You belong to this Bakugo and I don’t feel like sharing.” He could see the smart alec reply already forming, just waiting to jump off of the tip of your tongue. He pressed his lips against yours in a quick attempt to keep you quiet. “Come on, the food’s gonna get cold.” Taking your hand in his, he led you to his home. 

The walk was shorter than you thought. Between Katsuki’s heat and the warmth from the hidden sun you felt like you were wrapped in a blanket fresh out a dryer. You lost the number of times one of you would break the link between your hands to wipe the claminess off of your palms. 

“Wow,” you gaped at his home, stopping at the gate to admire the architecture. “Its-.”

“It’s alright,” Katsuki shrugged it off. He stood there awkwardly with you, giving you time to do what you wanted before continuing towards the door. 

You brought his hand to your lips despite the sparks flying. “Relax Suki, we’ve handled worse.” You fixed the stray stand, pushing them back together. You chuckled softly as you turned your attention to his shirt, “So much for tough guy Bakugo.” You gently fixed the fold of his collar, allowing your hands to follow the curve of his shoulders back down to his hand. “It’s cute.”

“Where is that kid,” Mitsuki barked as she opened the door, causing you to let out a squeal in surprise. “Oh. I was getting worried something might’ve happened to you two,” she continued in a more gentle voice. She forced herself to ignore Katsuki’s eyeroll.

“Mom meet my girlfriend, Y/n.” His grumbling did nothing to deter the butterflies going bezerk in your stomach. 

“It’s so nice to finally meet you.” Mitsuki stepped aside, making room for you and Katuski to walk inside. “When he brought you up I thought he was making it up. Not that I didn’t think he could find a girl.”

You quickly cut off Katsuki, who was growing more irritated by the second. “I know what you mean, but he’s all bark and a little bite.” You nudged him with your elbow, “but between you and me he’s a big softie.” Katsuki clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth to refrain from saying anything.

Mitsuki smiled softly at your comment, “Is he now? Can’t say I’ve heard that from many people.” She looked back and forth between you two momentarily. It was a sight to see, Katsuki standing in front of her with nothing short of a sweetheart. “I’m going to check on the food, Katsuki why don’t you show her around.”

“Didn’t realize I was giving home tours,” he muttered in annoyance, rolling his eyes as he stuffed his hands in his pockets. 

“Stop your bitchin’,” you fussed at him quietly, forgetting Mitsuki was there for a minute.

“The hell did you say?!”

“You heard me sparky.” You turned back to Mitsuki with a smile, “Need any help in the kitchen, Mrs. Bakugo? I’d- we’d be glad to help out.” Ignoring Katsuki’s mumbled ‘like hell we would’, you continued to smile softly. 

Mitsuki laughed under her breath, shaking her head. “That’s alright, I’m sure Masaru and I can manage. And please call me Mitsuki.”

You watched as she walked into the kitchen, waiting for her to disappear before you slapped Katsuki’s arm. “Would it kill you to not be an ass. I know they’re probably used to it, but still.” You hung onto his shoulder as you stood on your toes, “Please Suki.”

“Being cute will only get your ass so far.” He gently held onto your hips, steadying you as he searched your begging eyes. His eyes fell to your lips and back up to your own. “Come on then short stack, let’s get the grand tour over with.”

You followed closely behind him as he showed you around his childhood home. “Aww look at baby Katsuki’s room,” you squealed, squeezing past him into the room. “It’s so neat, like out of a magazine. Oh my goodness! Look at that AllMight stuffie.” You hurried over to his shelf, holding the plush in your hands. 

Sure, you knew your boyfriend’s favorite hero was AllMight. It’s just you never pictured him as much of a stuffed toy fan. At least not until your eyes landed on a familiar toy of yours that had gone missing. Sitting on his bed was a little green triceratops, resting dead center. Excitement quickly filled your eyes. 

“It’s the only place you wouldn’t find it,” Katsuki shrugged, walking over and picking the toy up. Kirishima had stolen it from your room during a baku squad movie night months ago and passed it onto Bakugo. It was a game of keep away that was only supposed to last a few days. He had every intention of giving it back, but when he realized it smelled like you it seemed nearly impossible. He had even spent a couple of nights with it tucked under his arm as he slept, not that he’d tell you. 

You watched as he absentmindedly played with the horn of the dinosaur with a loving smile on your face. You faked a cough to cover a quick, “softie.” 

“Katsuki, Y/n, food is ready,” Masaru called, saving you from Katsuki’s wrath. 

“Coming,” Katsuki snapped back. He turned to you with a mischievous smirk, “come here, princess.” He stalked towards you like a lion after a gazelle, his eyes piercing through you. 

You looked down at his sparking hand and back up to his eyes with a nervous laugh. “Don’t you dare.” You inched backwards, waiting on him to make a move. “Stop it,” you chuckled, holding your hands out in defense. A few quick steps made by him left you running to the entrance of the kitchen giggling like a child. “Smells delicious.” You scurried over to the chair across from Mitsuki, plopping down as Katsuki walked into the room. You shot him a victorious grin before beginning to make your plate. 

“Thank you,” Katsuki said politely as he sat next to you, pulling his seat closer. He lowered his hand under the table, careful not to draw any attention to himself. With one smooth movement he activated his quirk, popping you on your butt and causing you to squeal.

“You dickhead,” you exclaimed, completely forgetting about Katsuki’s parents. “I swear if you messed up my dress I’ll kick your…,” you trailed off, finally remembering you were around his parents. “I’ll kick your butt. Sorry.” You smiled apologetically at Mitsuki before stuffing your mouth with food to keep from saying anything else. 

Katsuki’s hearty laugh filled the room and if it weren’t for your embarrassment you probably would’ve joined him. You wanted to wipe the smug grin off of his face and get back at him. 

“Your outfits are cute,” Masaru chimed in. Katsuki’s laughter quickly died down, replaced with an annoyed look. “I assume it was your idea,” he continued in a questioning tone. 

“Of course it was her idea,” Katsuki spat, “why would I want to do something this stupid.”

“I ask myself that about you everyday,” you said snidely. “Also do I need to bring up-.”

“Damn it, shut up!” He proceeded to stuff his mouth, his chewing somehow as loud as if he were chewing into a microphone. His red eyes grew darker with irritation, yet he kept his mouth closed. 

The rest of the conversations consisted of the usual questions, typically answered by you. How long have you known each other? When you started dating? How’s school? Not that you could hear the conversation fully thanks to Katsuki chewing angrily. Sure he put on an irritated facade, but you could tell his father’s comment brought more embarrassment than anything else. And dealing with being embarrassed was not one of his strong suits. Every now and then you’d try to cheer him up with a quick rub on the back or by nudging his leg, it barely worked. 

“So, uh, how serious would you say it’s getting? Have you two…?” Masaru trailed off, assuming everyone at the table knew where the question was going. 

“What the hell?! The hell ya askin’ that for,” Katsuki quickly exploded, raising from his seat and nearly knocking his chair over. You reached over and steadied the chair, your eyes focused on your now angry boyfriend. 

“Katsu, please sit back down,” you asked him quietly. You slid your hand into his, giving it a loving squeeze. 

Mitsuki shifted, clearly trying to hold her tongue. “Actually, how about we go to the living room.” Her voice was calm and smooth, almost a little intimidating. “I’m sure the boys can handle cleaning the kitchen.” She rose from the chair after sending Katsuki a hardened look. You nodded and followed behind, kissing Katsuki on the cheek before walking into the living room.

You sat on the couch, the cushion sinking a little beneath you, as Mitsuki walked over to a shelf. “I was worried he’d never find someone to cut down some of that ego of his.” You weren’t quite sure if she was talking to you or just aloud. “Everyone seems to be too scared or too amazed by him to say anything,” she continued as she pulled out a book. “Can’t say I blame them with his smarts and quirk.” She strolled over and sat beside you, handing you the book. 

The picture of little Katsuki from what you assumed was pre-k on the cover immediately caught your attention. You smiled softly, your heart melting at the sight of his huge smile.  “He is pretty amazing,” you admitted. “His quirk, intellect, heck even his personality is amazing. He’s not so intimidating once you take the time to know him. And don’t even get me started about his work ethic.” You knew you were speaking, but it didn’t feel like you. Your heart poured itself out as your mind focused on the pictures in the scrapbook. “He’s gonna be an awesome hero one day, after me of course. But he knows I’ll kick his ass any time of the day, pardon my language.”

 Mitsuki’s giggle loosened your nerves you hadn’t even realized you still had. She watched you with admiration in her eyes, “I’m glad you feel that way and I’m glad he has you. He’s happy with you and I can see why.” You looked up at her, already hearing Katsuki’s teasing and grumbles about this later. “Masaru and I want to know you’re always welcome here.”

Before you could stop yourself you had flung your arms around her, taking her by surprise. As you were about to pull away you could feel her enveloping you in her warm embrace. 

Katsuki walked into the room with a dumbfounded expression on his face. His eyes shifted back and forth between you and his mother, taking in the scene before him.  He obnoxiously cleared his throat, “It’s getting late, we should head back before curfew.”

You reluctantly released Mitsuki and stood up, smoothing out your dress and handing her the scrapbook. “Thank you for dinner, it was delicious.” Katsuki trailed behind you as you made your way out the door, muttering his thanks and byes.

He walked quietly beside you for a while, holding you close to help provide you whatever heat the setting sun lacked. “Think it’s safe to say your parents like me,” you broke the silence only to receive an eyeroll.

“Too bad, I don’t plan on sharing you often.”

“Okay Mr. Grumpy Pants,” you rolled your eyes dramatically. “Not my fault the Bakugos seem to like me so much. I just have that effect on everyone.”

Katsuki let out a sound that was a mix between a scoff and a chuckle. “Hope you feel this happy when I do the same to your parents next weekend.” You slapped his chest with a laugh. “You’re not the only parent charmer, I can get them to like me more than you do.”

“Not possible, idiot. I don’t just like you, I kind of, maybe, sort of love you.” You could feel Katsuki’s chest rumble with laughter at your confession before he stopped in front of you. His muscular frame towered over you.

“I guess I might love you too,” he teased, making your cheeks flush. “How ‘bout we hurry back to the dorms so I can show you how much.”

“Lead the way.”

#bakugou katsuki #katsuki bakugou #bakugou #bnha bakugo katsuki #katsuki bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki x reader #bnha katsuki x reader #katsuki bakugo fluff #katsuki bakugo x y/n #katsuki bakugo imagine #my hero academia #bnha fanfiction #mha bakugo x reader #mha fanfic #mha bakugou

[burnedbyshoto]

Butterfly

Kinktober Day 8 ~ kink: tentacles

pairing: dom!amajiki tamaki x fem!reader

warnings: smut, cursing

word count: 2,848

a/n: wow.........I actually really hate tentacle porn, it always disgusted me, but I would let one man fuck with me tentacles. yes you guessed correctly, shouto. just kidding its definitely tamaki, enjoy sluts!

✩✶✩❇✩✶✩

You sometimes wondered how Amajiki Tamaki was such an unconfident man. His need for perfection was something that worried you, after all, in your eyes he was perfect. Your relationship with Tamaki had begun with major bumps in the road.

He had assumed in the beginning that you hated him. Your sweet words only a taunt in his mind, your affectionate smiles only a hidden snarl. It truly broke your heart when he finally admitted that to you. Tamaki was such a talented Pro-Hero that it often left you bewildered at his nervousness. You knew he would never get defeated in battle. But his often flashes of anxiety that filled his veins while he was in fights scared you.

You would watch via television while Tamaki went from confidence to crippling anxiety. Your hands always clutching your chest as you stare at your, at the time, best friend gets stomped on screen. However, without fail, Tamaki always pulled through. Of course, once you were finally done with work, you raced to his house. Waiting for the indigo haired boy to return home, bruised but victorious.

You could never resist throwing yourself into his arms, his voice squeaking your name. Heavy with embarrassment. You would always follow him in and help him with whatever he needed. You used to leave whenever Mirio and Nejire showed up. Given the three of them were best friends you always felt like you were intruding. It took a while but when Tamaki finally insisted along with the other two, you stayed.

You never expected to become friends with this very talented Pro-Heroes. Even now it made you smile whenever the four of you hung out. But things changed drastically between you and Tamaki. It all beginning after a fateful encounter with a merciless villain.

You remember watching from your office. Too many Pro-Heroes and sidekicks were getting tossed around like rag dolls. Your eyes widening as the onlooking camera crew focused in on Suneater running to the scene. They praised your best friend! Tamaki seemed unaffected by the villain's immense threat as he began to apprehend him.

It was a long fight.

It lasted an entire ten minutes, dramatic highs and lows. All to the point where you believed Tamaki had been killed. The panicked screams escaping your mouth as your coworkers held you. But with tears still streaming down your eyes, Tamaki rose. The costume is torn and in shreds, he ate something. Your shouts intermingled with the entire floors as you cheered him on. And within seconds, the villain was finally defeated. Tamaki standing over him, chest heaving as more Pro-Heroes arrived on the scene.

Tamaki shortly fainted afterward and was then rushed to the hospital.

He was released that same night, thankfully. You were in the waiting room for him to be discharged. Mirio and Nejire asked again if you were sure you were able to take him home. Your eyes were swollen and puffy due to the high amounts of sobbing you did. Your lips are chapped and brittle as you waved them away. “You guys have early rounds tomorrow,” Your voice weak and yet steely strong. “I can get him home. I’m fine now.”

“There’s nothing wrong with feeling scared, y/n-chan,” Nejire says, her voice serious as she held your cheeks in her hands.

It often made you speechless when Tamaki’s friends turned serious. They were all such dynamic people you forgot they could take things very seriously.

“I got this handled.” You affirm, your mouth pulling into a soft smile. They hugged you before leaving. The quiet hours of the late-night consuming you as you waited for Tamaki to be officially released.

You saw the battered hero exiting his room and into the hallway. Bandages surrounding his arms and a few gauges on his cheeks. He acknowledged you with a shy smile, his head slamming away from you as he talked to a nurse.

You stood up, collecting your things as you walked over to the Pro-Hero who talked with the nurse. She looks at you as you approach the counter, a tired smile on her face as she greets you.

“Hi, I’m assuming you’re here to take Amajiki-san back home?” She questions and your head nods in confirmation. “Okay, well please keep an eye on him. We were able to heal him mostly with our resident healing quirk. But he will be extremely groggy in the next few hours when it hits him.”

“O-Oh, of course. I’ll do my best to look after him.” You say with a bow, and a muffled sound comes from Tamaki as you grab his arm gently.

“Ready to go?” You ask, your eyes locked on his blushing cheeks.

He nods, and with that, you take him home.

It’s silent the entire car ride to his home.

Your eyes shifting over to his stiff form as you drive.

He had nothing to say to you, and you had nothing to say to him.

You had been scared out of your mind for him, but you couldn’t help the anger from filling your veins. The only question was why were you so angry?

Angry at him? No, that wouldn’t make sense. You worked hand in hand with Pro-Heroes, you knew what they did was because they wanted to be everyday heroes. So why were you mad at your best friend for scaring you like that?

Your hands tighten over the steering wheel as you pull into his driveway. Stepping out, you helped a stumbling Tamaki to his feet. Your eyes staring ahead as he leaned against your shoulder for support.

You often forget your friend was as strong and as big as he was. His weight crushing your shoulder. You attempted to maneuver him towards his front door.

“Y… Y/n…” Tamaki mumbles as you get to the front door.

“Yes?” You respond getting him to lean between the corner of the walls. All so that you can fish out his spare key from under his rock garden.

“Butterflies are my… my favorite things.” Tamaki tells you this, and you laugh as you shake your head. Your fingers finding the cool brass key and you stand up to see Tamaki looking at you with groggy eyes.

“I know that, Tamaki.” You remind him, “You told me that during our twenty questions drinking game.”

His face flushes red, and you sigh as he slams his head against the wall, his body shaking. “No… it’s not just that.” He admits and you quirk your eyebrow as you unlock the front door.

“Then what is it, Tamaki?”

“C-Can I call you butterfly?” He asks you, confidence seeping into his voice and you freeze as his front door opens.

“W-What?” You stutter, as the man stumbles in his stance, he looks so tired and yet so painfully in love with you.

“I… I like you a lot, y/n…” Tamaki whispers, and he takes a few steps towards you. His tired eyes burning as he presses his forehead against yours. Your chest is hammering as you feel his flushed skin against your own, his eyes closed as if this was a dream. His hands resting on your waist as you choke softly. “Today with that battle… I thought I was going to die, and I was going to die a coward. I couldn’t die knowing that I… that I never got to confess my feelings for you. I’ve always been a coward, my entire life… I know that! But as I lay there… as I lay there--” His eyes were full of tears and your hands grasp his face.

Your fingers brushing away his falling tears as you shake your head, “You aren’t a coward, Tamaki.” You say, the anger within you making sense now. You were in love with your best friend. “You weren’t going to die there, I wouldn’t have let that happened.”

A broken sob escapes his mouth as he shakes his head, furious. “I am a coward, y/n. I’m in l-love with you, and I never confessed until I thought I wasn’t coming back.”

“Tamaki…”

“Even if y-you don’t like m-me back, can I p-please call you butterfly… you just make me so happy…”

His dark eyes search yours, and without a single word more, your lips press against his. Your soul overcoming his own as he cries against your mouth. You don’t care, and tears are coming down your own cheeks as you pull him in close. Your lips uttered to him everything you had never told him. Promising him a future he would never think of until now.

You were in love with your best friend, and you were going to live the rest of your life engraving that into his heart.

When the two of you showed up to the next hangout with your friends. Everyone was so overjoyed to see Tamaki turning beet red as you held his hand cheering in excitement.

Your love was pure, forgiving, wholesome.

Late-night dancing, lingering kisses in the morning, and an insane amount of food dates.

Tamaki surprised you in many areas. His initial anxiety and unconfident nature erasing in many areas. After five minutes of doing something, he tended to feel confident. Of course, the greatest surprise came in bed.

Humans had a natural ability to make things… sexual, to say the least. It took until your fifth month anniversary for you to ask Tamaki to bring his quirk into play. Your mouth brushing against his trembling torso as your hand grasped his cock. “I want to use your tentacles one day,” You sighed, and like that, Tamaki had come into your hands.

Of course, it took another month for Tamaki to not crumble when attempting your request, but once he did. It unlocked something new and exciting within Tamaki. Something that made you wish you had asked him to bring his quirk to bed earlier.

Tamaki bit down on the golden broken takoyaki, your tongue slipping out of your mouth to lick your lips.

“Are you sure you’re ready for this, butterfly?” Tamaki asks as he finishes his food. Your thighs rub together in anticipation as you laugh.

“I’ve never been more ready for anything.” You counter, a cunning grin on your face as his gentle face smiles.

You had no idea what was going on in his brain, but the confident smirks sent waves of pleasure down your spine. Your breaths turning into pants as you wanted him to climb on top of you. Last time around he had simply fingered you, but it seemed he had a new idea in mind.

Your eyebrows furrowed as Tamaki pulled up a chair, and sat down on by the foot of the bed.

“Tama-chan?” You ask confused, why was he sitting down.

A shriek leaves your lips as something grasps your wrists and ankles.

Your body is pulled against the mattress, and you gasp as you try looking. Sure enough, four pink tentacles are holding your limbs tightly to the bed. The suckers on the limbs making you groan in pleasure at the intense pressure it added to your arms. Pants leave your mouth at the sight of Tamaki smiling at you, pure of innocence.

“You’re quite beautiful when you’re spread out like this, butterfly.” Tamaki sighs as he leans against a single hand, a grin curling on his features. Your body trembled as another tentacle traces up your leg. The cool limb touching your inner thigh, and you struggle against his tentacles. Your body wanting nothing more than to cover up. “Now, now, don’t cover-up. I love seeing your clenching pussy like this, butterfly. I don’t want you to hide from me.”

“Tamaki…” You moan his name as the tentacle moves to your left breast. It encircles it tightly but continues moving. It is quick to reciprocate its actions to your right breast. You arch off the bed as the tentacles pulsate, squeezing your chest delicious as you cry out his name. Good god was this on another level. You shudder against his groping tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against your nipple and you whine greatly.

A chuckle comes from Tamaki, but you lack the will to stare at him in the position. Your arousal feels like its growing as you feel the heat being emitted from your lower lips. Your hips shifting to ease the uncomfortable buildup within you. You weren’t getting the attention you needed down there. Unfortunate for you, Tamaki seemed focused on your breasts right now.

“What’s wrong, butterfly?” Tamaki asks, a smirk all too evident in his tone.

You curse as your hips thrash against the mattress. Your jaw-dropping as his tentacles continue lavishing your body. The pleasure in you only seeming to spark higher as he watches from afar. Your head spinning with lust as you can’t help but feel dirty as his tentacles do his bidding. The tentacles around your wrist tighten and you moan out.

“Do you need more?” Tamaki wonders, and you finally manage to look back down at Tamaki who bites down on his lip. “Tell me, butterfly, do you want more?”

You nod your head, unable to trust your voice as he grins. He raises a single finger, and you watch with the utmost glee as it manifests into a tentacle.

It immediately sinks into your desperate cunt, and you mewl loudly. The moving appendage pressing against the walls of your pussy as it thrust into you. Your hips slam up against Tamaki’s tentacle, your jaw falling down as you pant. The feeling mind-numbing as it slams in and out of you. Over and over, twitching and twirling within your dripping cunt. You plead for more, wanting nothing more than Tamaki’s cock to enter your pussy as well.

“Tama, please! Oh my god!” You scream as the tip of his tentacle easily presses into your g-spot. “SHIT!”

He slams the tentacle into your g-spot without mercy. A feral grin on your face as you continue thrashing against your bonds. His tentacle growing in girth inside your spasming walls. All while he continues to build the fiery pressure from within.

“I think you’re being too loud.” Tamaki groans. The tentacle that was groping your breasts shooting down. The smooth skin pressing against your aching cunt.

Your head throws back and your mouth drops as you’re about to scream his name. You’re cut off as another tentacle fills your mouth. Your scream is muffled, and you choke around the tentacle. The tip of the tentacle pressing against the back of your throat. The tentacle rams further down your throat, and your eyes roll back. The double penetration overwhelming you. There is nothing more that you can do except take it. Letting him have way with you as he fucks both your mouth and clenching pussy.

In and out, your body trembling as he fucks you in both places fast, hard, unforgiving. Your dripping cunt making the most lecherous noises as he pounded into you. The occasional gags emitting from your throat as his thrusts don’t give you enough time to adjust to his speed.

“Kami, you look so fucking delicious like this.” Tamaki pants from the distance, and you moan around his tentacle. Your mind wanting him even more so as the building pressure of your pussy increases. “Are you ready to come yet, butterfly?” You sob a sound that’s choked around his pounding tentacles. Your head nodding as your cheeks feel as if they are on fire. “Then come for me.”

It all comes crashing down. The tentacle sliding up and down your throat erases your sobs. The tentacle pressing into your pulsating clit goes faster. The tentacle slamming into your pussy widens within your clenching walls. You come hard, your vision turns white as you choke around the tentacle.

Your body weakly thrashes around on the mattress as he tentacles finally leave you. Your body sweaty, aching, and on a whole new high as Tamaki finally crawls onto the bed. A teasing smile on his face as he presses butterfly kisses to your collarbone. You heave for air as his touches are achingly sweet.

He gathers your limp body into his arms, and you sigh as he smooths your bruised wrists. “You were so beautiful,” He whispers. You groan slightly as he presses a kiss to your aching throat. “But don’t think this is over.” Your eyes slide over to Tamaki who grinds his raging boner into the palm of your hand. “You’re just too sweet to resist.”

“Tamaki.” You moan as you begin palming him through his restricting pants. You grin as you feel his lips beginning to suckle against your neck. You smirk as his hips rock against your moving fingers. You whine as he pins you back onto the bed, the tips of his hair brushing against your flushed and sweaty skin. Butterflies once more erupting into your stomach.

“I’m glad you're ready for a round two,” Tamaki groans as your fingers grip his hard-on. You chuckle as you silence him with a kiss.

“Me, too.”

#amajiki x reader #amajiki tamaki x reader #tamaki amajiki #tamaki x reader #bnha tamaki #mha tamaki #tamaki scenario #tamaki smut #bnha writing blog #bnha #bnha x reader #mha #mha x reader #bnha smut #mha smut #burnedbyshoto does kinktober #bnha kinktober #mha kinktober

[whumphoarder]

Who Needs Disney When You Have Russell Crowe?

Summary: When Peter’s ear infection gets a little out of hand, Tony and Morgan have slightly different ideas of how to help.

Word count: 1,874

Genre: Sickfic, domestic fluff, Whump Lite™

A/N: Thanks to @xxx-cat-xxx for beta-reading and ideas <3

Link to read on Ao3

Peter wakes to the sound of quiet whimpering.

It takes a few seconds for his groggy brain to register where he is, but the warm glow of the bunny-shaped night light on the opposite wall illuminating the Arendelle toy castle and the pile of stuffed animals on the floor gives it away. He’s in Morgan’s room. Morgan, who insisted on getting a bunk bed for her sixth birthday so that she and Peter could have sleepovers whenever he came to visit.

Morgan, who is clearly in the midst of a nightmare.

“Mo...” Peter whispers hoarsely. There are a few more quiet, pained whimpers. “Mo,” he tries again, louder. His left ear is throbbing and it’s ridiculously stuffy in this room—he’s actually sweating. Kicking the tangled bed covers off of himself, he lifts a hand to tap the wooden bed frame over his head. She stirs. “Morgan, wake u-up.” His voice cracks on the last word.

Morgan sits up in her bunk. “Yeah?” she asks drowsily. She leans over the edge of bed to look at him, strands of her long hair falling in her face. “What is it?”

She doesn’t seem particularly upset, which Peter finds strange. “Did… did you have a b-bad dream?” he asks.

In the dim light of the room, he can just make out her curious expression. “I don’t think so.” She swings her legs over the side of the bed and shimmies backwards down the ladder. “Did you?”

“Wh-What?” His ear is ringing, the pain feeling almost bone-deep. There’s another whimper, barely audible.

“You’re crying,” she says simply, perching herself on the edge of his bed. Her brow knits together. “Are you sad?”

Peter wipes the back of his hand roughly across his face and finds it’s wet with tears. It takes a second for his addled brain to realize that she’s right, and then an instant wave of self-consciousness washes over him as he looks into the eyes of the frowning six-year-old. “No, sorry, ‘m fine.” He pushes himself up on his elbows, hurriedly brushing the tears away.

Morgan’s eyes go wide. “You’re bleeding!” she gasps.

“Huh?” Peter follows her horrified gaze down to the pillow he’s been using. It’s covered in something dark and sticky. Alarmed, he lifts a shaky hand to his throbbing ear and feels more liquid trickling down. “Oh – um – wow, uh...”

“I’m getting Daddy!” Morgan declares, jumping up from the mattress and spinning on her heel. “Hang on!”

“Wait, no, don’t freak him—”

But she’s already out of the room.

“...out.” With a small groan, Peter carefully sits the rest of the way up and flips the lamp on. The pastel lilac pillowcase is stained with a mixture of blood and yellowish fluid. Grimacing, he grabs some tissues from the box on Morgan’s dresser and dabs them carefully at his dripping ear, hissing sharply at the stabbing pain it causes.

Within a minute, Morgan is back, dragging the hand of a disheveled but surprisingly alert-looking Tony in after her. “See? He’s crying and bleeding out of his ears!” she blurts.

“Just one ear,” Peter corrects, lowering the tissue down to look at the fresh blood and pus on it. “Gross...”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Oh, well in that case I’ll just go back to bed—you’re perfectly fine.” He moves over to the bed, Morgan following close behind. “Anything you wanna share with the class? You take any good hits to the noggin’ recently? Blow something up?”

Peter shakes his head as much as he dares, which only increases the ringing sensation. “No, nothing like that,” he mutters. He wishes this was something cool and Spider-Man related, but he’s pretty sure it’s just his patented Parker Luck™. “Ear started hurting a couple days ago,” he admits. “Thought it would go away.”

Tony pulls out his phone and flips on the flashlight. “Can I see it?”

“Yeah,” Peter says, wincing. He bites his lower lip and does his best to keep as still as possible as Tony peers into his ear with the light.

“What does it look like?” Morgan asks curiously.

“Ugly as hell...” Tony mutters. He flicks the light off and turns to Peter. “Pretty sure you ruptured your eardrum, kiddo.”

“Ah.” The pain seems to ramp up with the confirmation. That checks out. Certainly feels like someone just bored a hole through his ear. He can feel the fluid dripping out down his cheek.

Tony must notice it too because he grimaces and pulls a couple more tissues out of the box to hand him. “You know, if you weren’t feeling well, you could have told us that when you got here,” he points out. “Instead of waiting until”—he glances at his lock screen—“3:37 in the morning.”

Peter manages a small smirk. “Gotta keep you on your toes. You know, now that you’re retired and all...”

Looking very unamused, Tony extends a hand and helps pull Peter up to standing. The movement only increases the throbbing in his ear and Peter squeezes his eyes shut tightly against a wave of dizziness.

“Alright?” Tony checks, still gripping his arm tightly.

“Yeah,” Peter breathes, the ringing growing louder. “Sorry. Just... really hurts.”

“He can have some of my medicine,” Morgan offers in a slightly hushed voice. “The one Mommy gives me when my ears hurt.”

Tony lets out a short laugh. “That’s nice of you, sweetie, but I don’t think grape-flavored Children’s Motrin is gonna cut it here.” He gestures up to the top bunk. “Why don’t you hop back up there and try to sleep some more while I go get Peter fixed up?”

Morgan sticks her lip out in a pout. “But I’m not tired now.”

Instant guilt comes over Peter at having woken her up, but Tony doesn’t miss a beat.

“Nope, you are, you just forgot,” he says knowingly. He lets go of Peter’s arm for a second to scoop the now quietly giggling six-year-old up and deposit her on the top bunk. “Count some sheep, kid,” he advises, flipping off the lamp and snagging Peter’s ruined pillow to toss in the laundry.

With Morgan situated, Tony guides Peter out of the bedroom and down the stairs. He leaves Peter to clean up in the bathroom before heading to the kitchen in search of some kind of painkiller that might work on an enhanced metabolism.

Eventually, Tony returns with a bottle of Tylenol-Codeine, a glass of water, and an apologetic look. “It’s the strongest stuff we’ve got here. Might take the edge off at least.”

Peter murmurs his thanks and takes the pills, mostly to humor him. They both know it’s a lost cause. He can burn through a dose of morphine in less than ten minutes; there’s no way over-the-counter meds are going to do anything.

“First thing in the morning, I’ll take you to see Bruce,” Tony promises. “We’ll get you on some antibiotics and something better for the pain.”

Peter just hums in response.

Tony sighs. “We can try a heating pad,” he suggests. “That helps Morgan sometimes.”

“Sure.” Peter shrugs, listless. He’ll do anything at this point to make his ear stop aching.

Tony locates the heating pad and gets Peter set up on the chaise section of the couch under a blanket with the heating pad resting on the pillow under his ear. It helps marginally, which is slightly more than Peter can say for the pills.

“Sorry, kiddo. If only you’d known me in the nineties,” Tony says with a sad chuckle. “Could’ve tried all kinds of stuff on you.”

Peter lets out a short, empty laugh. “Yeah, too bad. Sure May would’ve loved that…”

Tony settles down onto the other end of the couch and flips on the TV for distraction. After a bit of channel flipping, he picks a period war drama about a badass sea captain fighting during the Napoleonic Wars, starring Russell Crowe.

(It was that or “My Strange Addiction” on TLC, and neither of them felt like watching a woman eat a couch).

Peter doesn’t exactly sleep, but he closes his eyes and drifts in and out while the movie plays low in the background. He’s kind of queasy—probably a combination of the otherwise useless drugs and the low grade fever he’s pretty sure he’s got going—but it’s nothing too awful. At least the sounds of cannons firing and battles being waged on screen drown out the incessant ringing in his head.

He isn’t sure how much time passes before a new voice joins the mix in a stage-whisper:

“Are they gonna cut his arm off?”

Peter’s eyes snap open. He sees Tony dozing on the other end of the sofa, so he sits up a little straighter and turns around to look at the staircase behind him. Sure enough, Morgan is sitting on the fourth step from the bottom, just high enough to see over the couch to the TV.

“I thought you went back to bed,” Peter whispers.

Morgan shrugs. “Counting sheep is boring.” She stands up and tiptoes down the rest of the stairs and into the living room. “Are they gonna cut his arm off?” she repeats.

Peter looks back at the movie. The ship’s doctor is in the midst of a rather intense amputation scene on a young boy’s infected arm. “Yeah, looks like it,” he says through a wince. He should probably change the channel to something more child-friendly, but Tony’s got the remote balanced on his knee and he’s all the way on the other end of the sofa. Oh well.

Morgan nods at the screen, looking impressed. Then she looks back to Peter. “Does your ear still hurt a lot?”

“Nah, it’s not so bad,” Peter lies. “No need to cut it off or anything.” He scoots over on the cushion a bit. “You wanna sit here with me?”

“Yeah.” She nods and hops up onto the couch beside him, snuggling against his right side. “Did Daddy give you medicine?” she inquires.

“Yeah, he did,” Peter assures.

She nods approvingly. “And did he give you the heater thingy?”

Peter lifts the heating pad up slightly for her to see. “Yep.”

“Good.” She nods again. “And cuddles?”

“Eh…” His gaze drifting to his quietly snoring mentor, Peter smirks a bit. “I think I’m getting too old for those.”

“Everybody needs cuddles,” she says knowingly. Scooting a little closer to him, she wraps her arms around his waist. “See?”

A small smile creeps across Peter’s lips. “Yeah, I see.”

They sit there for a moment, Peter doing his best to focus on the steady pressure of the six-year-old’s gentle squeeze rather than the thumping in his head. It’s almost peaceful.

“Either that, or you need a stick,” Morgan pipes up, breaking the spell.

Peter’s brow furrows. “A stick?”

“To bite down on,” she explains, pointing at the TV. “Like the boy in the movie.”

Peter blinks, then shifts his gaze sideways to the little girl watching nineteenth-century field surgery technique with genuine interest.

“It’s so he doesn’t scream,” she informs.

Peter holds out his hand. “Just give me the remote, Mo.”

X

Link to all my fics

If you enjoyed this story, you might also like: Adventures at the Stark Lake House

#peter parker whump #sick peter parker #irondad fic #morgan stark #peter parker #tony stark #earache #ear infection #ruptured eardrum #fluff #domestic fluff #stark lake house #flump #my fic

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

Things get personal...

Ok, so...all I’m supposed to do is break in there, remain hidden from whatever guards might be there, and get the info to you, right?

Kind of...If you find any info, then I’d appreciate you bringing it back out so we can go over it.

But...in the meantime, take this...

Huh?

*Komaru hands Akeru a scouter looking device.

An eyepatch?

It’s not an eyepatch. Wear this, and we can see whatever you see. AND we can communicate with you.

Cool! Where’d you get this!?

We have a...”friend” who’s a bit of a tech wizard.

Akeru, I’m going to ask you this one more time. Are you absolutely sure you want to do this.

You’re our best bet at finding this info, but there’s no shame in backing out. This is dangerous.

If I’m your best bet, then I can’t NOT give it a go. I got this Komaru.

Alright...but even still...

Komaru, just let it go. She’s not gonna budge.

Fine...I’m just really worried is all...

I can do this! I promise!

*A few minutes later, Akeru sneaks into the lab past it’s large iron fence by approaching from a blind spot and efficiently climbing over, despite it’s unnatural height. She then opens a large unguarded iron door. 

That was pretty easy...Guys, I’m in.

Komaru: Wow, that was fast. Any trouble on the way?

The area I entered from was mostly unguarded...though there are remote drones flying about.

So...now might be a bad time, but you sending me in here for “info” is kinda vague, don’t you think? What am I ACTUALLY looking for?

Toko: You’re looking for any and all clues about what’s going on in there, and/or who’s behind this operation. We would give you backup, but we need to go about this stealthily.

So I’m on my own for this one? Fair enough...

Komaru: Remember, don’t push it Akeru. As soon as you’re in any immediate threat, you back out of there. Got it?

Hey, Toko? Just clarifying right now, but do you think Komaru’s worried about me? She hasn’t shown many signs of it so far, but I think she might be a tad bit concerned for my safety.

Toko: Snrk...Good one kid.

Komaru: Oh shut it you two.

...

*Akeru navigates her way through the facility and suddenly notices two armed guard alone in front a seemingly inconspicuous door.

...HWAH! HATAH!

UGH!

ACK!

*She neck chops one and knocks him out instantly, and flips over the other and chokes him into unconsciousness.

Komaru: Wow! You’re stronger than you look!

Mwah! Mwah!

*Akeru jokingly and reaffirmingly kisses her biceps.

Komaru: Although, can you do me a favor? I know it’s a staple of yours, but can you not shout battle cries whenever you take someone down? You lose the element of surprise...

If they don’t attack me, I won’t attack them. How about that?

Toko: Ok, back to the task at hand...what’s through that door?

I’m looking now.

*Akeru opens the door. 

...Um...guys...?

Toko: We see it...

*Akeru comes into a big open space, with lots of familiar looking machinery around.

These look like...cryogenic pods...What are they for?

Komaru: Akeru, are they all empty?

Yes...?

Komaru: Then it’s not a problem. Just look around some more, ok?

Ok...But I want a real answer when I’m done.

Komaru: I promise.

*Akeru notices a laptop in the centre of the room. She approaches it and opens it up...

...

Toko: What do you see?

Well...it looks like this control room is a manual panel for controlling the whole lab. The larger computer is set up to this laptop.

[Back at Komaru and Toko’s location]

Alright...I’m sure I don’t need to tell you this...But search that laptop for any information you can find.

When you’re done, destroy everything on it and shut that lab down.

Akeru: Copy that.

How long will it take? We’re tight on time.

Akeru: Depends on how many times you interrupt me with questions...

Ugh, this little brat! I can’t believe her...

Good one Akeru.

Akeru: To give a more serious answer, let’s just say I’m both impressed AND annoyed and how sophisticated this file is...I’m looking through all recently opened databases...

You keep surprising me...I didn’t think you’d be good with computers...

Akeru: I think I got something...

Show us...

*Akeru turns her attention to the screen. The scanner immediately scans the contents of the screen and Komaru and Toko take a look at it.

What...is this...?

It’s a file called...“Project Neuron...” it’s something that involves Microchips and Drones...

Akeru, can you find anything else on it?

...

Akeru? Akeru!

[Back to Akeru.]

...

Komaru: Akeru! Akeru, can you hear me!?

H-Huh?

Toko: Kid, are you ok?

...

Guys...We need to destroy this NOW...

Komaru: Wait, what?

Just tell me. How do I shut all of this down!? Tell me how to do it, NOW!

Toko: Wait, hold on, what about finding out the ringleader!

I don’t care who the ringleader is! Whoever they are, we need to-!

ACK!

Komaru: AKERU!?

Ngh! Let...me go!

*Akeru is suddenly lifted upwards, being grabbed by her arms. When she looks up at what or rather WHO grabbed her, she sees...

...

[Back at Komaru and Toko’s location.]

What the shit is THAT!?

Akeru: UGH! NGH! HYAH! *pant!* *wheeze*

*On the video feed that Komaru and Toko can see, Akeru is laying into the large man in the suit and the Monokuma mask with a flurry of kicks, given that her arms are restrained. However, her attacks literally do nothing. The giant man doesn’t even flinch.

Who the hell are you!?

...

*All of a sudden, a garbled, unrecognizable voice exits the helmet.

Well done...Komaru Naegi...Toko Fukawa...I’m impressed.

Who in the what?

Oh, sorry, let’s specify beforehand. The big guy who’s holding your little friend isn’t the one talking. This helmet has a walkie talkie built in it that allows me to talk to you.

Who are you! Let Akeru go!

...No, I don’t think I will...You really want to save Towa City, but I’m afraid that’s not going to happen. You’re here to help me with some important work...

Important work? What are you planning to do with her!?

Oh...I’ll do what I’ve been intending to do ever since I found out about her...I’ll make her feel despair so I can watch her hopeful light shine and overcome it all...So for what it’s worth, thank you for practically dropping her into my hands. I owe you one.

You bastard! NGH!

Let’s fuck shit up!

*Wasting not another second, Komaru and Jill burst into the base. The soldiers inside obviously notice and strike back, but the Ultra Despair Girls efficiently take them out, one by one, including the arial drones.

*Komaru and Jill rush and find the room where Akeru was being held. Upon arrival however, they find the room is now empty.

ACHOO!

Th-They’re gone! And so is the computer! It’s all been shut down!

WHERE IS SHE!?

???: Oh, don’t you worry. She’s in a safe place now...

*The voice is now coming straight from the radio.

???: I’d like to play a little bit of a guessing game for you...As thanks for allowing me to get my hands on Akeru Yozora, feel free to keep those documents, and actually, take the rest of them too. You can piece together for yourself who I am and what I’m planning.

...I don’t care what it is you want anymore...I want Akeru back...!

???: Then by all means...use that as your hope. I can’t control you, but until you find out what you’re looking for, I’ll keep Akeru in safe hands. Don’t worry though. I’m not so low or cold as to torture her. 

You’d better...!

*The call hands up.

What do we do...?

We need to get in contact with the Warriors AND the Foundation...this mission just got EXTREMELLY personal...

#danganronpa survivor #danganronpa #danganronpa ultra despair girls #drae #danganronpa blowback #drb #komaru naegi #toko fukawa #akeru yozora #mr kuma #the life and lies of akeru yozora arc

[brideofcthulhu10]

More headcanons to help me work through the dreaded writer's block! Hope you guys don't mind it's a bit slow right now, I plan on posting another tonight and hopefully I'll be able to get to some asks once my brain is no longer fried

Dwayne Headcanons

When he was responsible for Laddie, Dwayne would often take him out to the boardwalk whenever Star was busy. Sometimes he’d even choose to take him along even if they were with Star just to hang with the munchkin

If anyone told him he was too short Dwayne would hypnotize them into letting him one. He wasn't exactly worried about the kid being flung from the roller coaster, he could easily catch him if it happened. It felt awesome impressing him at the strength test, just watching him jump up and down as the attendant handed him a giant blue monkey which of course he'd give to Laddie. The boy was such a hyper, sunny child it was hard not to laugh when this spritely eight year old would play a water gun game and yell “this is a load of bullshit” when he lost. Well, he did grow up around four teenage guys, two having the worst language you could imagine. David used the word "fuck" like it was going out of style. At one point some lady in her thirties tried to lecture Laddie about watching his language, to which Dwayne had immediately stepped in after he said “piss off lady”. Again he had to choke back a laugh, pushing the kid behind him before this lady throttled him. To save face Dwayne feigned some half assed “shame on you” to Laddie just so she would piss off, and then ushered him away- for an ice cream sundae. Granted while he couldn’t condone a kid cussing up a storm, he did find it utterly hilarious watching this uppity chick squawk like a hen in outrage.

“Seriously though I don’t know where the hell you learned all that from-”

“Paul taught me.”

“Yeah, well, Paul probably isn’t the best guy to copy, kiddo. "

Chinese food isn’t his favorite, but he knows it’s Markos so he doesn’t complain when they have it at least once a week. Actually, his favorite is probably Hispanic. Many forget much of California was once Mexico, and as such the culture still thrived even into the early 1900s. Santa Carla flourished, and between pick pocketing gigs and heavy labor on the docks, Dwayne could always count on there being fresh tortillas for a few dollars after a long day. Elotes with extra chili powder, huarache, freshly brewed horchata on ice? Utterly delicious! Nothing can compare to freshly made tamales by a sweet abuela in a tiny food truck cooing to you in Spanish. Even he can blush when they pinch his cheeks gushing about what a skinny man he is. Paul and Marko love it as well and will often tag along when Dwayne goes to Mama Rosa’s, although he often has to elbow Paul in the gut because he’ll flirt with the cooks in the back into getting a free taco.

“Ay, Paul, mi angelito querido cielito, you’re skin and bones!”

“Well, I always skip a meal before coming here, abuela. Your cooking is too epic to have anything else in my stomach!”

“Dude, will you stop flirting with that poor woman before you give her a heart attack, you ass?”

Dwayne had a brother many years ago who was lost after being caught in direct sunlight during the great San Francisco earthquake of 1906. Since then on April 18th he holds a small memorial for his brother Jasper, who died pulling the curtains shut to shield them from the sun. Some years David, Paul and Marko will join him, silently drinking to their fallen friend. It's a rare moment of seriousness for these wild boys, sitting beside an altar crudely constructed atop a wooden crate, draped over with the jacket once worn by Jasper that survived the flames. Decorated in worn candles melted by decades of use, a bottle of rum from over eighty years ago still untouched with an empty shot glass beside it caked in dust and cobwebs, worn flowers shriveled into darkened husks, a glass of blood they keep freshly filled with each visit, feathers of birds to help carry him to the sky. Every time he adds something new, a gift from every era. Recently he brought Jasper a Def Leppard vinyl record, propped against a sketch of his brother drawn before his passing by an admirer who had died long ago. Paul left a little toy motorcycle for him, Marko brought an old pocket watch he found at an antique store that bore a striking resemblance to one he had admired long ago, and David brought him a hunting knife

“You would’ve loved hair bands, Jas. Everything’s changed now, its crazy. It sucks you never got a bike of your own,” Dwayne would say, sitting in the dark with only the tender flicker of candles brushing away the dark. Never again would he let the sun take him. It was the darkest, deepest cave in the hotel. And there, Dwayne spoke more than he ever does outside “Horses were cool, but it’s better to have something that doesn’t stop every time it takes a shit, you know?”

Unfortunately Dwayne sucks at video games. It’s not that he doesn’t get it, but he has the worst gamer rage. Now, Dwayne doesn’t often get legitimately mad, but when he’s been playing the same god damn stupid water level for the past hour and a half just to be killed by a squid-! Well, lets just say Paul practically dove to catch the controller before it was chucked at the tv, and cue a dirty look towards Dwayne for nearly smashing his “baby”. He wasn’t about to have him break ANOTHER controller. Yeah that wasn’t the first. At this point he’s content just watching from afar and sometimes back seat gaming when Marko is going the wrong way. He’s not nearly as bad as David who will openly call someone stupid after dying. 

Dwayne is definitely the type to nap after a long night. Truthfully he misses when he could just lay out in the sun like a lizard on a hot rock after a long day, it’d feel incredible. Instead he’s resorted to a hot water bottle or a heating pad. Yeah, he loves hot weather. Summertime is his favorite time, just savoring the toasted air blowing in his face on rides over the beaches. Sometimes he’ll try to wake up early to watch the sunset from within the cave, although it’s burnt him on more than one occasion he will still try to get a glimpse. Winter is the worst for him, he hates, absolutely despises the cold. Even though he doesn't technically get cold anymore, everything seems to die away in the winter leaving only twisted branches and grey skies. David may enjoy all that gloomy melancholy but not him.

One wouldn’t assume Dwayne to have much of a sweet tooth. That’s because they’re wrong. While he isn’t into the marshmallow caramel double candy bars deep fried and dipped in chocolate like Marko or Laddie, he has a serious weakness for chocolate. Like, a major weakness. Paul is still searching for his stash, tucked away somewhere secret in the hotel. Any time he thinks he’s close to finding it, Dwayne moves it again.

“Dude, sharing is fucking caring you greedy bastard”

“Get your own candy asshole, why do you think I keep my stash hidden from you guys?”

Now the whole hoity toity fancy chocolate isn’t what appeals to him. He can certainly appreciate a well made chunk of dark chocolate sprinkled with chili powder, but he’ll settle for a cheap bar snatched from a gas station. Most sweets weigh heavy on him, but chocolate is such a unique medium that can be changed into almost anything, appealing to every taste imaginable. Sweet, savory, spicy, bitter, semi-sweet, rich, dense, light. Chocolate cake, chocolate doughnut, hot chocolate, fudge, and of course the traditional candy bar. You make him a mug of Mexican hot chocolate and he is putty in your hands. You couldn’t necessarily bribe him with food. But you could certainly butter him up to suggestions when he’s crunching down on a candy bar. Paul knows this, and at this point Dwayne knows this guy has royally fucked up if he comes up to him with a stack of chocolate bars.

“Heeeeey, Dwayne, buddy, old pal, chum, lookie what I found, all for you man how cool is that?”

“....,” Dwayne glances up from his book at the handful of chocolate and slowly lowers it with a firm sigh. “What the hell did you do now?”

“Wha-Whaaa-? Oh! Okay, wow. Woooow. Offend much? I go out of my way- I mean, can’t a guy just, you know, do something nice for his best friend-?”

“Paul. What. did. you. do?”  

“Okay okay, well you see David made me go fill up his stupid bike, and there was this hot chick at the gas station, I mean perfect fuckin ten man, she had the biggest frickin tits- okay anyway! Well, next thing I know the keys are gone, the chick's gone, the fuckin bike- You gotta help me man he’s gonna fucking kill me and dance on my grave!”

Of course Dwayne will help… in exchange for twice the chocolate. Like I said, it won’t always work as a bribe, but it’ll certainly help your cause if you go in with some incentive.

#lost boys 1987 #lost boys imagine #the lost boys #lost boys fanfiction #fanfiction #fanfiction writing #lost boys #fanfic #80s movies #lost boys dwayne #billy wirth #lost boys vampires #lost boys laddie #vampire fluff #fluff imagine #fluff #lost boys head canon #headcanon

[headphonemouse]

9/18/2021 drawing liveblog

CHROOOOOMEEEEE

I love looking for reference photos of him because this is always near the top of the search results.

I dont really plan on making anything for this, but I was thinking about family dynamics and how in a lot of modern aus, people make Suika either Senkuu's or Kohaku's little sister. Or if they have a mixed family then she's Kohaku's little sister and Senkuu's step-sister. However, I haven't seen anything about making her Chrome's little sister. To me, those two have the highest sibling energy. Kohaku dotes on her, Senkuu too but to a lesser extent, but Chrome, upon her introduction, scolds her for supposedly stealing his stuff. That's exactly what a bitchy older sibling would do. He treats her like an annoying kid sibling but also gets super excited whenever she does something cool. As Kohaku's little sister, she's really cute, but I feel like she gets boiled down as JUST being cute too much. I think her dynamic with Chrome would be more interesting. And in the current arc, they're being recognized almost as equals. They get along but not in a 'best buds' way. They're totally siblings

AOCJRNFUVH IM SO SORRY

Nice

I'm sorry this is supposed to be about art but I keep getting distracted

I just learned how to toggle the bucket setting to expand the edge of the thingy so that there's no thin layer of uncolored space at the edges. And that there's a "close gaps" setting so I don't have to worry about having perfect lineart before using the bucket. All thanks to a quick coloring tutorial from sabertooth walrus

"Include this area as a selection" makes it easy to recolor lineart. I found out about it the other day and just used it now. Makes clothing folds on dark clothes easy to see

"Oh wow how do you get your thin lines so smooth?" I simply do not breathe.

Done with one character out of three, on page 1 out of 3

It isn't a comic this time. It's a series of fake screenshots, though I'm not gonna try to replicate the dcst art style

Figured out how to add a reference window

Aha. I'm glad this is only a tiny part of the drawing. Surprisingly, I haven't gotten bored yet

My attitude towards making art has gotten so much healthier lately. My intro post says something about how my posts don't warrant the amount of effort I put in, and that's because I'd often think that whatever I was making was pointless. Now I dont really care about that, I'm throwing my all into making this thing because I wanna see what "my all" would be. It doesn't have to be meaningful or successful, I just had to remind myself that I'm doing this for fun. And it is a lot of fun

Done with Senkuu. Moving on

This. Is hard...

Theyre still treating the astronaut lineup like they don't know who's going up so what if Chrome and Suika are hauling ass trying to make the return vessel and they're really brushing up against the deadline when they reveal that Xeno and Stan are going up so Suika and Chrome are all "oh well I guess we don't really need to rush let's take our time with this and just help build another rocket for the rescue mission"

3/3 characters done. Now backgrounds and an extra set of hands

I should probably save the background for tomorrow. For now though, I have a passable meme! The characters are all fully drawn on the screenshot and the punchline is yknow. Within the single picture already. Except I went ahead and looked up where that line came from and came up with two extra screenshots to draw over so that'll take another day. I can PROBABLY finish by tomorrow? If I manage my time

Hmmmmm. Hmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm. I feel like this isn't testing my skills, as much as it is testing my patience, which I have a lot of. Maybe if I made myself color it it'll be more challenging. Maybe if I didn't have a photo to copy from. Maybe if I drew the background differently, changed the scene. Hmmmmm. I wanna try drawing nature scenes sometime, and experiment in tone values. You can do so much with greytones, and I'm not using that to its full extent

#talking tag #process tag

[iphoenixrising]

hey we haven’t heard anything from you in a while. everything good? How’s life treating you? All my love for one of my favorite batfam writers!💗💗💗

Hi babe.

Ah sorry, I’ve been super busy at work and with kiddo :( I mean, I’m still writing when I can, but it’s just time and motivation. My project has really taken off (reads as: expanded) and most nights I’m chipping away at the massive amount of documentation for not only a Java-based framework, but an entire Platform *sob* So, it’s just such a huge amount of old articles and brainstorming sessions and meeting minutes and just ugh. I mean, it’s kind of interesting to try tracking all these things down and figuring out how they’re going to work together since the developers (from 12 to 50-ish, my God and now they want me to read markdown and do pull requests for comments and shit because this is my fucking life) are still working on the platform services, the development environment, and all these fucking tools I’ve never heard of (Kubernetes, wtf is this thing??) so I’m learning a foreign language almost tbh.

Did I mention *sigh*?

ANYWAY, also some of the things I’m working on that are like Batfam are a little more...I dunno, just things that a bit harder for me I guess, but even if I write just a sentence or two, I still count it as a win.

But like...I said something about a Sentinel / Guide Au, and even though I’m at what would be a good stopping point, I’m not very happy with it :/ So, if you’d like to see kind of what I’ve been doing, I’m going to throw down what I’ve got below the cut. 

Warnings: 

DickTim, Angst

Sentinel/Guide Au

**

After he brings B back from time, send the Dark Knight back to Gotham, he gives in to things long overdue, and trains with Shiva–

–to be an effective Guide.

Years of suppressants made it literally hell without them, trying to keep his shields up, trying to push out the telepathic traffic suffocating him the second he opens up just a crack.

Shiva, of course, had been her cheerfully murderous self, plying him with the full onslaught of a powerful Sentinel.

"You will be drawn to us from now on, Little Bird. You will want to protect us, bring us back from the abyss. If you choose to allow your powers as a Guide rein free, then you must learn to fight against the urges."

The fucked-up part is–

–she's right.

If he wants to stay in the life, wear the cape and cowl under the new name, go back to the Titans (since they've been looking for him again, fly-bys and searches for his tech), then he needs to learn how to deal with what he can do and how to deal with the instincts that come along for the ride.

It's not enough that Shiva is in the middle of hunting down a few former students ("They have made...the wrong choices." 

"That's rich coming from you, you know."

"We all have a code, Little Bird, and I am no different.")

but they managed to run into a few other Sentinels along the way.

He'd like to say he'd taken his ass beating like a pro at this juncture in the vigilante game, but the reality is, they'd had to take shelter in a shitty lean-to, so he could be tragically, metaphysically hung-over.

He gives up the cowl and suit, utility belt and sundries. He goes as a wrecked teenage American boy, changing it up from the last time he trekked behind Lady Shiva and took on her adversaries. He tries not to think about Dick or Jason, Dami or Alfred, tries not to think about the confused look on B's face in his safe house, drying his hair after a long shower, trying to readjust to the current timeline.

("You aren't going back to Gotham?"

"I still have things to do."

"...there's something you aren't telling me."

"There's a lot I'm not telling you."

"Come to me when you're ready, Tim. No matter what, you're always going to be one of my Robins.")

Instead, he learns how to keep himself, and the Sentinels around him, safe and sane while trying to stay two steps ahead of the next fight, the next clue, the next "training."

In Shanghai a few months later, he knows it's time to move on when people part ways for the brightly clad superheroes coming en-masse down the packed street for him.

Well, moving on it is.

Going back to the Tower, away from the Bats and Gotham and the Rogue Gallery (thinking about facing the Joker this raw and open is fucking terrifying), was the best he was going to get considering the circumstances.

Those circumstances being the pointed twitch over Kon's eye and Bart's very intense gaze.

"You were supposed to call, asshole. The OG Batman has been back in Gotham for like months and you've just been, you know, chilling with Lady Shiva?"

Tim, who is so out of bullshit at this juncture, feels better after a hot shower and some old sweats with a Superboy t-shirt, throws up his fucking hands.

"All right, fine. I never told anyone. I...I've been on suppressants since I was a kid, just like my mom. Guides..."

"It's not that bad anymore!" Cassie tries helplessly, the first to actually reach across the table for his hand.

The instant connection makes them both gasp. It’s a shallow one, just a dip under her natural shield (he knows it’s Cissy, the Guide that’s been helping her until now, bringing her back whenever she hits a Zone, recognizes the touch of their Arrowette), just a skim over her immediate emotions  this thing now untried and how utterly calm he makes her just by hands lightly placed. 

"O-ooh," is soft while his fingers tighten, his eyes sharpen, his shields constructing around her, his instinct to protect.

"Not necessary," Gar chimes in, still leaning against the door between the kitchen and communal entertainment room, "we're all good in the Tower, T."

Is what shakes him out of it, hastily pulling away from Cassie's hand.

"Wow." Wonder Girl breathes out, eyes soft and half-mast, looking at him dreamily.

"Nope." Because he can already feel the headache coming on, how her hand tries to grab back at his.

“We could fight better together, Tim!”

“Do you even know how strong a Guide has to be to take care of four Sentinels?”

In one terribly creepy singular move, Bart, Kon, Gar, and Cassie give him that look.

You know, aimed at his face.

"No one," Bart cuts in, eyes wide at the exchange, of Tim's aura warm and inviting suddenly stronger, reaching out... "Tim, T. No one has to know."

The flash of fear, a residual from the tunic, makes him hedge back a subtle step back.

Kon pointedly grips him by the bicep, over his shirt while Bart moves enough that his shoulder bumps into Tim’s ribs, halting the possible escape attempt.

“Okay, okay, backing off. New powers are about a bitch, not like we all haven’t been there once or twice.” Kon soothes over, taking small steps and tugging until Tim is moving with him closer to the communal kitchen where his seat is empty at the island, and they can possibly get proof the guy actually eats.

“Amen,” Cassie throws up a hand and is already digging through the fridge until she finds–

–the last grape Zesti.

Tim’s eyes narrow dangerously on that singular can, his body moving before his brain can take over because he’s sliding on his old chair, the can cold against his fingers, too thirsty for caffeine that he can’t even.

Sure, it’s a trap, but with these guys, at least he knows it.

“I’m very not ready to do anything remotely Guide-like in the field,” the soft ca-saaaa as the can opens. “You want me to sleuth, fight, and strategize, then I’m all for it.”

Bart is just suddenly in Kon’s usual seat beside him, spinning around in tight, fast circles, “you mean you’re thinking about coming back? To the life?” 

“Dude, that would be stellar.”

Tim side-eyes his besties, “it was never in the plan to-to stop.”

“Can’t blame us for assuming, you know,” Gar grins toothily, “no Red Robin for a while, my dude.”

Tim goes quiet, staring down at the can between his hands, shoulders hunched over.

“At least,” Raven’s voice is smooth and soft, comforting, “tell us why now, Tim?”

“Why now?”

“Why begin training as a Guide now?” She clarifies, sliding into the seat across from her, and the coolness of her aura, not a Sentinel, but something purely Raven puts his frayed nerves at ease, makes it easier for him to find the words.

“I turned 18,” and he can’t look at them while he admits to it, “and...and I figured out who my Sentinel is after Ra’s kicked me out the window.” (I was fine going out that way. It was fine. I was saving Wayne Enterprises from the League of Assassins, I was fighting the good fight. It shouldn’t have happened that way...why did it have to happen that way?)

“Oh,” and Cassie’s eyes get huge.

“Ra’s al Ghul is your Sentinel?!” Bart fairly screams.

“No dude,” Tim rolls his eyes and finds his can suddenly fascinating. “It’s...Dick. He’s...yeah. It’s him.”

“I didn’t hear that,” Kon hurries, standing shock-still, “I didn’t hear any of that.”

“Not him,” Bart is gritting his teeth because dammit, why couldn’t Tim have been his Guide? The universe was totally, wholly unfair.

A muscle in Tim’s jaw flexes, his nose pinkening along his upper cheekbones. He blinks watery eyes, takes a deep, deep breath to try and keep himself under control. 

“Yeah,” and Tim sighs a little, the ache in his chest more acutely painful when he thinks about that moment waking up in the Cave, Dick in the Batsuit without the cape/cowl combo smiling down at him, still painfully unaware of the connection drawn tight between them.

(He doesn’t need me. He’s got Babs and Dami. His Guide and his Robin.)

Getting the absolute fuck out of the Manor had been his first order of business once he’d come to, just sprouting whatever placating bullshit Dick needed to hear to let him go without much of a fight (this time).

Finding Bruce and staying the hell out of Gotham hadn’t helped the pull he inexplicably felt, or the pressure of minds around him that had sent him to Shiva in the first damn place. His Guide abilities were overcoming the suppressants, so he was out of time...and out of options. 

Still, even with the training, he occasionally has the dreams at night. Not the usual array of awful nightmares from his real life, Jason shooting him in the chest at point-blank to make sure the job gets done this time, Bruce dying right before his eyes, turning into that skeleton husk Superman brought to them thinking it was the real thing, Damian sneering at him with the katana held high, spitting out how it’s time the real Robin took his rightful place just before bringing the blade down–

No, no, it’s even worse than those.

It’s shadowy hands touching him, the warm wet of a mouth over his skin and scars, gentle voice in his ear telling him how beautiful he is, how much he’s needed, wanted, how it’s not just because of what he is or what tunic he used to wear, it’s all because he’s Tim. He doesn’t wake up when his dream self realizes it’s Dick over him, those blue eyes taking him in, pinning his wrists down to look over every inch of his naked body. He doesn’t wake up when Dick starts preparing him. He doesn’t wake up when Dick kisses him hard and desperate. He doesn’t wake up when the tears dry on his face and their bodies line up.

“Mine,” his dream Sentinel doesn’t even hesitate, “Don’t ever run from me again. Do you understand me, Tim?”

Just before Dick pushes, he wakes up, panting and hard, his instincts going crazy enough that he has to meditate to calm down.

Cassie gently wraps her hand around his shoulder, making sure they don’t have skin-to-skin contact this time. “I’m sorry,” she smiles gently at his frown, “I know you and Dick have had some...issues in the past few years.” But he can read the guilt in her face. Back when everyone thought Bruce was dead and his cape had been yanked out from under him, Dick had sent Cassie to try talking some “sense” into him. She still feels awful for jumping on the same train everyone else had been riding, the ‘that guy is suffering from depression’ instead of believing he might actually be right. 

(It still stings though, doesn’t it?)

He doesn’t say anything back, just looks out one of the big windows and pulls out of her hold to take a drink of his Zesti.

“But,” Gar quickly jumps in, “you’ll stay in the Tower and fight on the team again, right? Like, no more trips with World’s Deadliest Assassins?”

Tim visibly hesitates, pausing with the can up to his mouth. 

Slowly, he lowers it, his eyes taking on a cold calculation that is and isn’t like their old Rob. “Like I said, I can’t be a Guide for anyone, and I mean that. Second, I told you the truth in confidence, so I expect everyone to keep my secret. Third, I’m not anywhere near ready to go to Gotham or face the Bats, so for now, I’m fighting under the radar. If those aren’t acceptable stipulations, I’ll grab some of my clothes from storage and be out of your Tower.”

“Storage?” Kon glances around at the team, “Tim, buddy, why do you think we’d have your stuff in storage?”

“I assumed Dick would already approach you about making Damian part of the team,” his tone is absolutely empty, emotionless. “And there’s no way both of us could be here at the same time, so...” he lets them put it together from there.

The look of utter devastation on Kon’s face makes him feel slightly better.

**

Coming back when Cassie, Bart, and Kon have his back, just like they were closer to the end of their YJ run, makes the transition easier than it realistically should have been.

And it really might just be how low the dose of suppressants are now, or that he feels comfortable stepping into Robin’s role on the team, just with a different name, a different mask. It might just be how Bart has a tendency to hover with that hummingbird energy coming off him even when he’s seemingly standing still, maybe it’s Kon’s TTK pressing at his back even if the guy is across the room, maybe it’s how he and Cassie have leadership meetings where they just binge watch reruns of Gossip Girl and eat ice cream to bemoan their woes. 

But maybe, it’s how he can feel them pulling at his shields unconsciously. Maybe it’s how he can sometimes push back enough, can skim just the edges to get impressions of angry, sad, depressed and gently erect a mental shield without delving deep without permission, can give them the space they need from their intense senses and powers. 

Just another way he can be the regular guy on the team, working under the radar. So much a part of his role in the first damn place. 

He doesn’t realize it becomes something normal until they take the good fight a little too close to Gotham for his liking, but the choices were few and Luthor is such an incredible ass hat that Tim actually plays it down, dresses up as CEO Tim Drake to divert their baddie while the team takes apart his latest weapon of mass destruction on the down-low.

What he absolutely doesn’t expect is to leave the lobby of one of the most posh restaurants in Metropolis–

And walk face-first into Dick Gryson’s chest.

(Technically, it’s Nightwing, but really, this doesn’t make the sitch any better.)

A hand, black with blue fingerstripes, covers his mouth, and the sound of a grapple retracting is a pending oh no that he doesn’t fight the vigilante pretty much kidnapping him off the street in broad daylight. 

He can only thank God it isn’t skin-to-skin contact because his inner senses are flaring this close to the Sentinel, his Sentinel, that he has to grind his back teeth to keep himself in check. He pulls away the second they land it on solid rooftop, shoving his sleeve back to check the team’s status on his hidden wrist computer. 

Mission success! 

“Imagine my surprise,” Nightwing growls, hand on his shoulder to spin him around, “when I find you having lunch with someone like Lex Luthor instead of taking my damn calls, Timmy.”

Stepping out of that hold is subtle because Tim is looking over the side of the roof, adjusting his tie to try putting some distance between them. “I’m undercover. Those are the things people like us do when we’re running an Op, Nightwing.”

Those whiteouts narrow on him, a trick only Dick can really pull off effectively. “None of that tells me where the hell you’ve been for the last year since you left to find Bruce, found him, and didn’t come back.”

His back straightens, eyes looking away when the irritation and heat of anger hits him harder without the nice little cocktail of suppressants and stabilizers, makes his own shields tremble at the burning sear along the edges of his consciousness. 

Instead of saying something he might come to regret, Tim sucks in a breath through his nose and works through the bolt of pain, gathers his shields around himself to keep the Sentinel from unerringly lashing out at him again.

“What the hell are you even doing here? Recon on Luthor? For which nefarious plot?”

A black and blue hand slashes the space between them, “not even important, Tim. So, how about you call your team and tell them you’ve got some Bat business because we? Need to talk.”

“I’m sorry, what now?”

“You heard me. I’ve been trying to get in contact with you for weeks.”

“I sent back your case files, asshole–”

“Not about cape and cowl shit, Tim!”

“I don’t even know what you’re talking about right now,” even though he does, he really does. He just doesn’t know why it has to happen now.

Nightwing, however, has had enough of the talk and with a whip of his arm has a bolo out and thrown, his natural speed as a Sentinel might be slower than someone like the Flash, but it still has Tim wrapped up tight faster than he can realistically dodge.

The sight of the vigilante Nightwing swinging through Metropolis with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises over one shoulder would be big news in the city if anyone had been bothered to really look up.

**

The hotel is nice Tim thinks while wiggling around on the bed where Dick pretty much dumped him. His fingers are already getting the bolo loose from around his upper body by the time Dick has the mask off and the Nightwing suit unzipped to flop around his waist.

The Gotham Knights t-shirt underneath is a new one since the old faded one got blown up in that little explosion in the ‘Haven a few years back.

Dick lifts and sets a chair down with a pointed clack, sitting down to watch Tim squirm his way up. He’s got the bolo loose enough to brace his palms.

“What part of I’m in the middle of an OP–”

“Don’t care,” Dick cuts him off ruthlessly, those blue eyes hard and jaw tense. “I honestly don’t give a crap about the Titans right now.”

“Well I sure as hell do thank-you very much,” Tim pulls the bolo off, tosses it across the room with an angry flick, facing his former mentor, former partner, former friend with those old feelings creeping up his throat to make the taste in his mouth coppery and bitter.

“The only thing I care about right now is that I finally caught up to you. The last time I even saw you was that swan dive–”

“I’m aware. Being kicked out of a window is pretty memorable, even for people like us,” he keeps it deadpan, keeps the anger and irritation, the feelings of shit like betrayal and it must have been so easy to throw me the fuck away.

“The point is, smart ass, you left the Cave and haven’t been back. You only answer my emails about cases and bad guys. But when I ask you to come back home, which I have, Tim, I don’t even know how many times, and I get nothing! We need you–”

“Why would I come back to Gotham for you?” Is what spills out of his mouth, something bitter and foul. “You’ve already got a fucking Robin to be your little brother, remember?”

Welp, there goes playing it cool.

But watching Dick jerk back like Tim had landed a physical blow was more satisfying than he wanted to admit.  

“Are you kidding me right now? You’re still angry about that? I’ve explained to you exactly why–”

The irritation in Dick’s tone, obvious disgust when he leans back and crosses his arms over his chest is just about enough.

“You explained it just fine. You made your choice, so everyone just has to deal with it, right? Yeah, that’s really being my equal.” 

Tim makes himself stay deadly calm and cold, moves his legs away from Dick’s to stand and take a few steps away from the seething Sentinel to adjust his tie and try to get his hands to quit trembling. 

“I can’t believe you’re acting this childish, Tim. I’m really disappointed with you right now.”

“Glad we’re on the same page, Dick, disappointed in each other,” but it strikes him anyway in the small, sad place where he held on to the hope they could still work everything out somehow and at least go back to being friends. A small part that’s been slowly dying in degrees, and that last hit is enough to make it so absurdly painful.

(All those years in the R, fighting the good fight, being brothers, having each other’s backs, and it all ends here, doesn’t it?)

“What? I did everything I could do for you! I–”

“If that’s what you want to believe, then that’s fine. I don’t have any reasons to argue with you,” staring at his own reflection in the mirror, seeing the red start to creep over his cheeks, his eyes get overly shiny, Tim Drake straightens his spine and flexes his own shields. 

He keeps himself together enough to turn on a heel and walk calmly to the door.

“Tim, just...okay, just wait. Let’s talk this out–”

He doesn’t even turn, hand already on the knob, just pulls open the door and takes a hasty step through. It’s only the first step, but Dick is still just suddenly there, trying to snatch at Tim’s wrist with a bare hand, managing the brush of fingertips over a pulse.

“Don’t leave like this,” Is the last thing Dick says before the electric shock slides up his spine, the pull to all his senses almost has him on his knees.

The touch has Tim lurching away, jerking his wrist up to cradle against his chest, the red burn of Dick’s emotions beating at his shields harder with just a simple graze.

It ends with Dick still in the doorway, braced against the frame, gaping, and Tim leaning heavily into the wall across the hall, a wince on his face.

Stupid metaphysical connections and shit.

The touch hadn’t been enough to, you know, like bond them or anything, but it’s widely believed True Pairs didn’t even have to touch to get impressions from one another.

“You asshole,” he seethes at that shocked expression. 

“You feel like I betrayed you,” is low and thick, Dick’s eyes a little dazed with what he picked up through the momentary connection, “it hurt you so much when I made Dami my Robin because I didn’t even talk to you, I didn’t trust you. You think I just threw you out of my life. How could I ever do that to you...?”

If Tim was a better Guide, on a higher dose of suppressants, he would have been able to keep himself closed off enough that if they did manage to touch, he could have kept Dick out of his shields, wouldn’t have given him the ability to skim over shitty emotions.

If Tim was a better Guide, he wouldn’t have the urgent need to run.

But welp, here they are.

As the thought takes shape in his brain pan, that he’s in his civilian day-ware and can run down the hall while Dick –still half in Nightwing– is trapped in the doorway, his knees firm and his eyes dart wildly to the side, giving himself away.

And since Dick was Batman, is Nightwing, is a Sentinel, he sees the writing on the wall and absolutely refuses to let it happen. Dick shoves with his arms, darts out into the hallway, makes his suddenly weak knees work enough to shake up Tim’s plan, seizes the apparent Guide, his Guide, in a princess hold and get back before the door even starts to close.

“Put me–!”

But Dick folds his legs to sit with his back against the door, and wraps both arms around the struggling third Robin. He can hold onto Tim better than a bolo anyway. 

The push at Tim’s shields is a pressure he isn’t used to dealing with, and it’s painful to fight against it rather than just let the tentative connection open. His hands curl into fists in his lap, trying to strain against the arms pinning him while concentrating on strengthening his shields. 

He doesn’t realize he’s whispering, “no, no, no,” under his breath. 

“Please,” Dick lays his forehead down on top of Timmy’s head, “please don’t go. Not now. I’m finally...Tim, I get it now. I swear, I get it.”

“...doesn’t matter. Too late.”

“That isn’t fair,” the smallest shift and Dick is breathing against his throat, making him shiver, “I just found out you’re...a Guide. My Guide. We haven’t even started yet. It can’t be too late if we haven’t had a beginning.” It gets worse when Dick breathes in his scent deeply, a noise coming out of his chest.

“We have had a beginning,” he bites out, fists tight, concentrating on keeping his shields strong but flexible, “we’ve had years–”

“And I’m not ready to throw all of that away.”

The pressure against his mental shields finally eases up as Dick raises his head, gives him a little shake to make him look up. 

“You already did, remember?”

“I didn’t... I never threw you away. That’s not what I meant or wanted. Yes, I should have handled things better. I know that now, and I’m sorry I hurt you. I was sorry before, I just didn’t know how to tell you, how to make it better between us.”

Tim’s eyes narrow, and he doesn’t let up in case this is one of those diversionary tactics to put him in a false sense of security. 

(They fight bad guys. Sometimes, they have to cheat, and he wouldn’t put it past Dick to do just that.)

“I don’t know what you think is going to happen here,” he finally tries, staring up into those blue, blue eyes (I trusted you once, and fuck if I’m going to let you do this to me again). “But whatever it is, you’re wrong. I’m not going to come back to Gotham and be your Guide. I’m not going to bond with you because the universe says I’m meant to be some kind of magical counterbalance.”

Dick’s expression crumples, his arms go a little slack. 

“Tim, we’re...we’re a True–”

“I don’t give a fuck about True Pairs, Dick, not anymore. Babs has been your Guide since you both presented. She wants the job, she can damn well have it.”

It’s not a fight to push against Dick’s arms the second time and stand up out of his lap.

“You’ve loved me since the moment you put on the cape, Tim. I know you have.” When what he means is I know now.

“I loved you before that, you asshole, and you betrayed me. You don’t get that chance again.”

Turning away shouldn’t be this easy now that Dick knows the truth, but it is, and the very last parts of him still hoping, still craving, are just as easily–

–wiped out.

Dick’s eyes are watery when the door hisses and creaks upon opening, and it’s an automatic thing, reaching a hand up just expecting Tim to take it.

“Tim. Timmy, please.”

“Good-bye, Dick,” is already fading with rapidly retreating footsteps. At least he can keep some of his dignity because Dick will never know he falls the fuck apart as the elevator goes down.

**

Author’s notes:Here’s why I don’t like this: 1. I want to talk more about why Tim chose Shiva as the Sentinel to teach him how to be a good Guide. Like, I want to explore that dynamic more because I’ve never really had the time or space to write Shiva as we see her in Tim’s Robin run.2. I wanted to go more into the expanded senses of Sentinels and how to - hell, I dunno, make it seem to be a little closer to cannon maybe? Like point out some of Dick’s greatest escapes and be like part of that is due to his Sentinel power. 3. Dick says some shitty things, and I don’t give him any context. Like, at that point, he legit believes he did the right thing at the time, and look! Tim’s Red Robin so everyone wins! But yeah, once he got under those shields, the truth shakes him up. 4. I dunno, this au might not be for me. It doesn’t feel very different from some of my other angsty things I guess but meh. Who knows, I might fix it someday :D 

#winter answers #with angst #and frustration #sentinel!au #Tim Drake #Dick Grayson #the titans! #my fics #my writing

[msjr0119]

Birthday One Shot

A/N1: So it’s my girls birthday today. My favourite drunk partner. Hope you have had a fabulous day @drakexwillow !!! I can’t wait to have an alcoholic drink with you and fall asleep again 😆

A/N2: Some of the dialogue used was actually texts between us. I’ve rushed this as I’ve been busy passing out all weekend - bypass any stupid grammar mistakes 🤣

A/N3: Thank you to your other half, ‘Beany’ for helping me out with some things- I hope he didn’t spoil it for you ❤️👍🏼

Book: The Royal Romance (A/U)

Pairing: Drake Walker (Michiel Huisman) x Willow Downing (Jessica Lowndes)

Song inspirations:

Gun Machine Kelly- Drunk Face

Gun Machine Kelly- Hangover Cure

Mood- 24kGoldn and Ian Dior

Warnings: Adult language, mention of sex, mention of being drunk.

Tags: Thinking of those who like Drake x MC especially Willow- don’t feel obliged to read if you don’t want to 😊

@drakexwillow @burnsoslow @axwalker @annekebbphotography @kingliam2019 @kimmiedoo5 @i-bloody-love-drake-walker @bascmve01 @yukinagato2012 @lodberg @cordonianroyalty @texaskitten30 @nomadics-stuff

****

Drake Walker had been dating Willow Downing for many years now. Every birthday that came around he always struggled with new ideas about what to do for the love of his life. At times he was tempted to ask for advise from his closest friends Maxwell and Sophie- however, if he did that he knew that it would just end in a disaster. A big drunken mess. He would usually impersonate a babysitter for the three of them, especially Willow. Thinking back to past birthdays, she wasn’t a bad drunk. Or was she? There had been times when she would get the ‘munchies’- gather food everywhere then not clean up after herself. Rice. That was the worse time for this common food reoccurrence. If it wasn’t the issue of food, there was the spilt drinks residue surrounding the place instead. Which Drake had to clean up. One of the worse ‘Willow moments’ since they had began dating had been when she vomited in their bed- and all down herself, Drake had turned into a domesticated goddess for the night. Stripping the bed, before assisting her in the shower. Oh, then there was the time when Maxwell and Willow had gotten matching tattoos of a peacock with the words ‘House Beaumont Rules’ sprawled underneath it. That night was karma in Drake’s eyes. Regardless of her drunk past antics, he loved her with all of his heart and wouldn’t change it for anything. She was the one.

****

🎶Why you always in a mood?

Fuckin' 'round, actin' brand new

I ain't tryna tell you what to do

But try to play it cool

Baby, I ain't playing by your rules

Everything look better with a view🎶

“I’m not in a mood!” Drake defended himself- as his other half entered the kitchen singing. Yes, he was known to be the moody one. The one that always wore a scowl. But for once he wasn’t ‘in a mood’. Not for now anyway.

“Sometimes you are. But no, it’s a song. You really need to get down with the kids Drake and watch TikTok.” Snuggling behind him, it was the best option as she knew exactly what his expression would be like. Hearing a heavy sigh escape from him- soon she felt him relax, both feeling content.

Fucking TikTok. He muttered to himself. The social media app had become his worse nightmare recently. When they laid in bed on a night, she would promise him that she was only watching it for five minutes. That five minutes soon turned into an hour, which then elaborated into sometimes three or four hours. By that time he had fallen asleep. No intimacy. It’s a phase- she will soon get bored. Again, he wouldn’t change his relationship with her.

****

Later on that night after they had eaten, Drake had put one of Willow’s favourite TV series on. Usually she would be ‘glued’ to it- no matter how many times she had seen this specific episode.

“I thought that you’d want to watch The Office? But instead you’re just listening to that garbage. Can’t we just have one night with no TikTok or listening to him?” After his original snappy attitude, that turned eventually into a plead- Drake attempted to make eye contact with her. Knowing full well that she wasn’t fully listening to him.

“But, he’s amazing. Gorgeous. Sexy.....” Swooning deep down inside as she expressed this, Willow eventually locked eyes with a now pissed off boyfriend. Before TikTok became a ‘thing’, she was in a similar situation whenever a new game for the PlayStation was released. Karma at its best.

“Obviously not as sexy as you though Mr Walker.” Attempting to redeem her previous words, Drake responded with only an eye roll. Maybe she was slightly addicted to Machine Gun Kelly and TikTok. In all honesty, lockdown was to blame for this ‘addiction’. Being stuck in the house. With nothing to do. Well, there was other things to do. Most time spent to begin with was the two of them entangled in each other.

“I’m sorry, Drake. Allow me to listen to one song, then we will watch this- no phones. Just Drillow time.” A smile finally crept upon his face. Finally she was cooperating with him in his mind.

“Sounds like a good deal. Which song are you going to choose?” He asked, not that he was bothered or interested. Just eager to spend time without any distractions.

“I like too many songs- I’ll try and pick a favourite...’Drunk face’. It’s off his new album. ‘Hangover cure’ is also a good one by him.” I bet it is.

“I wouldn’t know. I haven’t listened to it.” Faking a sincere yet interested tone of voice, Willow was still debating which song to hum and listen along too. Just hurry up and chose one.

“I can’t believe he’s with Megan Fox and he keeps using her in his music videos it’s so cute.” Getting easily distracted again, Drake bit his lip as she did this in a silent frustration.

“I thought that Megan Fox was still with Brian Austin what’s his face?” Surprisingly, he wasn’t aware of their unexpected split when it was breaking news in the show business world.

“No they split up the start of the year I think it was....I didn’t think they’d look that cute together and pictures of them together he towers over her and it makes them look adorable.” Like us, Drake compared the celebrity couple to themselves as he always towered over a ‘shorter’ Willow.

🎶Wake up, still drunk from last night

The first dates are always uncomfortable

Stayed up, I couldn't sleep last night

I'll admit, I'm a little dysfunctional

Are you okay with the fact I'm a little off track, to be honest

I've been through relationships, I've never been in love, but I want this 🎶

“Anyway, let’s finish watching this before my birthday tomorrow.” Finally placing her phone out of reach, Drake couldn’t quite believe that she had detached herself from it. Almost hallucinating due to the fact.

****

The two of them didn’t quite finish watching the episode. One thing led to another. Clothes were scattered all over the floor, before Drake had carried Willow bridal style to their bedroom. The rest of the night was bliss, an early gift for the birthday girl. Walker style.

Knowing that it was now officially her birthday, she snuggled into the soft warm sheets with a content feeling. Subconsciously she had dreamt about how Drake would make her day special. As he always did. Rolling over, there was no sign of him. Blinking her eyes she believed that she could possibly still be half asleep- that was until the realisation of the sun peeping through the cracks of the blinds. Forcing herself out of bed, she searched the house for Drake with no avail. Wondering what he was upto, she put those thoughts to the side for now and got ready for the day. Her day. A day that she had planned to be filled with fun and laughter with the people closest to her. He will be back before I’m finished.

An hour later, the wanderer still hadn’t returned. Willow had become slight panic stricken before the banging on the door distracted her pondering any further.

“Happy birthday!” The two friends shouted enthusiastically before pulling her in for a group hug. A hug that could have potentially suffocated her. “Where’s Drake?”

“I... I don’t know. It’s not like him to leave without saying goodbye at least, Soph.”

“Well it’s eleven o’clock. Never too early for a birthday cocktail. It’s the evening somewhere in the world. Maxwell sort the birthday girl out with a drink.”

“Yes ma’am. Come on, Lo.” Sophie watched the two of them disappear out of sight before dialling the number on her phone.

“Drake. Where are you?”

“I’m just getting Lo a present, I’ll be back soon Soph. I promise.”

“A present? How long have you been together? You should be more prepared Drake! You know it’s her birthday. This is not the time to go awol, Walker. Or at least explain to her where you are going!”

“Sophie, just please.... just distract her with some shit off of TikTok. I’ll be back soon, I promise.”

An hour or so later after Sophie’s and Drake’s brief conversation- there was a quiet knock at the door, which made them all question who it could be. They had arranged to have a quiet time together as a foursome. Threesome at the moment. As far as they was concerned in the morning; the three of them didn’t want to wake up still drunk from last night. They were still young, wasting their youth. Promising to grow up next summer. They didn’t want Drake to always be in a mood.

“You girls carry on drinking, I’ll get the door.” Maxwell suggested as he leapt off of the bar stool.

“May I help you?” Maxwell questioned as he peered through the peep hole with one eye shut and the other attempting to examine the mystery person. In all honesty, it didn’t help that he was already slightly tipsy. He would be useless as an eye witness.

“It’s me you idiot! Are you going to open MY door?”

“You sound like Drake, but you don’t look like him. How do I not know that you’re here to rob us by impersonating my bestie?”

“One. Do you think that I’d dress like this if I was going to rob you? Two... you are not my bestie Beaumont!”

“Wow! You’re really good at this whole Drake Walker act.”

“Just fucking let me in Maxwell, before I throttle you!”

“How much is Drake paying you? He would actually say something like that to me... okay, I’ll ask you a couple of questions. If you get them right you can come in Drake.” Empathising the name, Maxwell still wasn’t convinced that it really was Drake. His drunk mind wondered why he wouldn’t just use his key and allow himself in.

“What’s my middle name?”

“Percival.”

“Lucky guess. What’s my peacocks name back home?”

“Petunia. Now get the chain off and let me in!” Oh that’s why he couldn’t get in. I forgot that I put the chain on when me and Sophie first arrived. Doh! Safety first!

“Drake it is you!” No shit Sherlock. “You look a complete knobhead by the way. Welcome to Chateau A La Walker.”

“Leave the French talking to someone who can actually express the language, Max.”

“Colson?” Drake sighed looking at Willow. Knowing how ridiculous this whole situation was. “Drake?”

“Tonight Matthew I’m going to be Colson Baker- Machine Gun Kelly. I’ve even got some nail varnish so you can do what Megan does to him in that music video. I’ve got red, pink, purple, black........”

“Drake... I like him and his music. But I love you. I love you for you... why are you doing this?”

“Do you love me more than him and TikTok?” Now that is a predicament to be in. Hmmm...

“Of course I do, you idiot.”

“Thank fuck for that! This wig was itching me too much.” Relieved to finally take it off, he flung it onto the floor- not caring how much it had cost him to recreate somebody else’s look.

“You don’t suit blonde hair anyway. These tattoos are so realistic.” Willow smiled softly towards him.

“Erm....”

“Erm?”

“Well... the reason... that... they look so realistic.....”

“Oh my god you didn’t!”

“Well these ones are just stick on ones. I did have one done this morning- hence why I’m late. I’m sorry.”

“I NEED TO SEE THIS!”

“You will later..... I promise.”

“He’s probably had it done on his arsehole or something? Can’t be as bad as Maxwell’s ‘Turn Back Now’ Pennywise balloon tattoo above his ass.” Sophie suggested and explained with an oblivious Maxwell not understanding why suddenly he was the clown of the group. Drake couldn’t help but blush thinking about his surprise tattoo, in his mind it was ridiculous- he had regretted it as soon as it had began.

“Drake? Are you going to show me? It is my birthday after all...” Fluttering her eyelashes, he was done for. Simple gestures such as these turned him into a big ball of mush.

“Follow me to the bathroom. I’ll show you....” Stripping off out of the ‘rapper’ clothes that he had borrowed to complete his MGK look- he wrapped a towel around him in a flash. Not wanting to spoil the surprise immediately.

“So... don’t laugh, Lo. On the count of three- okay?” She couldn’t contain her excitment, being too eager and intrigued about the tattoo- she quickly whipped the towel away.

“Oh my god. You had a tattoo in honour of me.... Don’t you ever, criticise me for getting a tattoo. The peacock one- I was drunk. You had no excuse to get this. I might actually cry- with laughter. I love you, Drake Walker. Best birthday present EVER! I’ll get us both a drink. Come back into the kitchen when you’re ready.”

Not so little Walker- property of Willow ⬇️

Those words would now be permanently written across his pubic bone. Yes, it would be humiliating if anybody other than Willow found out the true extent of this tattoo. But what would be more embarrassing was if she was to reject his second surprise of the day now her name was on him for life.

#choices trr #theroyalromance #the Royal Romance a/u #drake walker #michiel huisman #drake walker x mc #drake x Willow #drakexwillow #birthday girl #birthday one shot #tw adult language #tw mention of sex #tw drunk #maxwell beaumont #oc Sophie #Maxwell x Sophie

[blake-belladonna-defence-force]

In This Life, I Can Be Your Girl...

So as I writing the update for my dance au (which is now up) @the-batjan made this post; https://the-batjan.tumblr.com/post/189607002712/ok-hear-me-out-guys and I was greatly inspired.

There is a mention of Blake’s mindset during volume 4/5 so there is talk of her self hatred/borderline suicidal mindset. Kali was scared for a good reason.

If that is a trigger for you, please give this story a skip. Look after yourselves, dear hearts. And please let me know if I need to tag anything.

Blake’s still recovering and healing from everything that Adam put her through. It’s not going to be immediate. But she’s learning and growing and she’s allowing herself to be happy. To be loved.

God. She truly is the definition of bravery, huh?

///////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////////

Yang laid on Weiss’s bunk, happily watching as her partner ran through some checks on Gambol Shroud, her fingers and hands expertly running along it and dismantling the weapon with a quick and sure efficiency.

But that was Blake in a nutshell. Quick, sure, efficient and not to mention deadly. The fact that she took down an Ursa on their first day as partners with one well placed strike said a lot. Perhaps that was why Yang allowed herself to make eye contact.

Or perhaps it was the look in Blake’s eyes. The one that somehow told Yang so much and so little all at once. The one that cried out that she’d been hurt. And the one that refused to give up. The one that told Yang that this was a girl who had seen the depths of hell and eaten with the devil and come out the other side, stronger than ever. And that exact same look was still there today. But it was more confident. More sure of herself. She hadn’t just walked out of hell, but Beaton back her demons and refused to let them turn her into a martyr. And she was so much happier. Her eyes, though they still carried some of that hurt, were brighter and filled with more hope and openess than Yang had ever seen.

‘At least... in this life.’ Yang quickly shook her head. What was she thinking? There’s no way that she knew Blake in another life... Right?

Yang so fucking proud of the woman sitting across from her that it hurt. She didn’t think it was possible to care so much about her and yet, she felt it. That ache in her chest whenever Blake smile and laughed. The way her arms always ached to hold her. How she yearned to tell Blake every single amazing thing about her that Yang admired.

And it scared her. It cared her that she cared so much. It scared her that it could all be taken away in the blink of an eye. And she didn’t know what to do.

Yang watched through the mirror as a small, honest smile crossed Blake’s face and she suddenly felt like she was intruding on a private moment. Blake eyes were soft as she ran her hand along Gambol’s blade, fingers brushing gold in a manner that was almost fond. Yang had her suspicions about the golden addition but kept herself from voicing them. If Blake ever wanted to tell her, she’d listen.

An amused hum drew her attention as Blake met her eyes through the mirror, her smile becoming more lopsided as she quirked a curious brow at Yang.

Now, Yang loved all of Blake’s smiles. But she had noticed that the more lopsided and uneven they were, the more open, honest and vulnerable Blake was letting herself be. An even smile was usually put on, a performance. But the smile Blake was giving her now? Uneven and honest? It was genuine. It was real. And Yang swore that they were even more lopsided around her.

“Can I help you, Miss Xiao Long?” Blake asked playfully, lips twitching into a smirk as she leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms.

“Uh…” Yang stalled. What should she say? “No?” She gave a too bright grin, nervousness getting the better of her. Blake just had to keep catching her staring at her, didn’t she?

“Hmm.” Blake hummed, amusement clear in her eyes as she stood up, stretching out her muscles with a groan and walking over to Yang, sitting beside her hip and smiling down at her. “I’m sure.”

“Look, there’s not much to look at in this place so my eyes are just drawn to the prettiest thing.” Yang said with a playful smirk as she brought her knee up and bounced lightly against Blake’s ribs.

“Ahhh.” Blake said. “That explains why you’re looking in the mirror. I always knew you were vain.”

Yang sputtered for a moment before pointing at her friend.

“Okay, first of; smooth.” She admitted with an annoyed huff. “And secondly, shut up.” She added with an embarrassed pout.

Blake giggled behind her hand and Yang melted. What was this girl doing to her?

Blake bit her lip shyly, her hand coming up to fiddle with a… necklace? Huh.

“Never took you for much a jewellery girl.” Yang said with a cocked head, eyebrow raising at the blush that formed on Blake’s face.

“I’m not.” Blake mumbled, taking off the necklace and handing it to Yang to show her the ring that was attached. “But I found this inside a piece of fish during lunch with my mother and… well. I decided to keep it.” She shrugged helplessly.

“Oh. That’s kinda cool.” Yang said as she examined the ring. She felt… odd. Like déjà vu or something. As if she knew this ring. “Can I ask why?”

“Well.” Blake looked away, almost ashamed. “Mum and I went on a picnic while I was back in Kuo Kuana. She wanted to tell me a story because she saw that I wasn’t…” Blake’s nose scrunched up as she searched for the right words. “In a good headspace at the time. She reminded me that I was worthy of my parents. Of my friends. That I was also Adam’s victim as much as anyone else. That they wished they could have protected me from him. And that I’ll always have a home in Kuo Kuana.”

“Oh Blake.” Yang breathed, heart aching for the woman in front of her. “They’re your parents. Of course they love you. Of course you’re worthy of being their kid.”

Blake wiped the corner of her eye and smiled sadly. It made Yang’s heart ache in a more unpleasant way.

“I know.” She said shakily. “But I let him get in my head. Let his lies become my reality. And I’m re-learning what I’m worth. What I deserve without him hanging over my head.” Her lips quirked up slightly. “Helps when a beautiful woman can’t keep her eyes off of me for more than five minutes.” She teased gently, expression soft.

Yang couldn’t help but think that this girl was the definition of bravery.

“Oh very funny.” Yang murmured as she sat up and gently cuffed Blake’s leg playfully. “Dork.” She paused for a moment before speaking. “Can I ask what story she told you?”

When Blake told her the story of the faunus princess and the young human noble, Yang felt her heart break a little.

“God.” She breathed. “That’s… wow.” A thought occurred to her. “Wait. Why did your mum think you needed to hear that story?”

Blake looked away, shame making her ears lay flat.

“I told you that I wasn’t in the beat headspace. She was worried that… I might do something I couldn’t take back.”

Yang felt herself go pale. She quickly reached over and pulled Blake into her lap, holding her close and burying her face in her hair.

“Blake.” She said thickly as Blake melted into her hold.

“I wouldn’t have done anything. I just…” Blake verbally struggled for a minute, head buried in Yang’s shoulder. “Didn’t particularly like myself.”

That was obviously an understatement.

“Blake.” Yang breathed into her hair, tears blurring her vision. “I’m so sorry.” What else could she say? She had just learned that her partner, her best friend and the woman she loved hated herself so much that it scared her own mother. How could she even respond to that? “Do you still feel like that?”

“Sometimes.” Blake answered quietly, honestly. “Some days are worse than others. But I’m getting better.” She pulled back and cupped Yang’s face, pressing her forehead against Yang’s softly. “I’m okay.” She whispered, lips brushing Yang’s nose in a barely there kiss.

“Okay.” Yang mumbled. “But I need you know that you can come to us during the bad moments. You can come to me.”

“I know.” Blake said, placing a lingering kiss on her cheek. “Thank you.”

“Um. Here.” Yang coughed as she hand Blake her necklace. “Your-“

Both girls jumped apart when their hands met with the ring in between them.

It was like a jolt of electricity coursed through them, almost seeming to blind them.

It was during that moment of blindness that images flashed through Yang’s mind. Of a beautiful faunus woman with long black hair, black cat ears and golden eyes that felt like home.

She saw the determination in her eyes as she snarled and pressed a blade to Yang’s throat and demanded to know who she was and what she wanted.

She watched as the woman brought her back to her village and demanded that she prove her story.

She witnessed the way the faunus woman’s regard started to soften, her stony exterior melting into something far more tender.

Eyes filled with suspicion shifted to a loving and devoted gaze.

Hands that always held a blade started to carry flowers that would soon find their way into Yang’s hair.

Lips that once snarled warnings soon uttered words of love and adoration.

She felt the heartbreak of their separation and the devastation that she broke her promise to come back home.

And when her vision cleared, she and Blake were both on the floor, expressions matching.

“Did- did you-“ Yang stuttered, not believing what she had just seen.

“See the human and faunus’s lives flash before my eyes?” Blake rasped, eyes filled with unshed tears. “Yeah.”

The two women stared at each other as the pieces slowly came together. The almost instinctual pull that they felt towards each other, the ease with which that they fell into trust, the instant rapport that they developed. They thought of the way they fought together so seamlessly from the start and how Blake didn’t hesitate to throw her weapon to a stranger.

Except… Yang wasn’t a stranger. Was she?

It was why they fell hard and fast. It was why their fighting styles blended so well. And it was why purple and gold screamed home to them.

There was nothing either girl could say as they shakily stood up and stepped over to the other. Their hands entwined on instinct, forehead coming to rest together, that same pull bringing them closer than ever.

When their lips met, Blake and Yang both instantly felt all of their pieces shift, becoming whole for the first time in a long time. Two souls that had been searching for each other for decades longer than they could possibly know, finally reunited.

“Hi.” Yang whispered tearfully as they pulled apart.

“Hi yourself.” Blake murmured against her lips, tears quietly streaming down her face that Yang gently wiped away.

“Sorry it took me so long.”

“Don’t be. I think it took me even longer.”

Yang let out a watery laugh as she pulled Blake in again, hands cupping her jaw as she kissed her lips, her cheeks and jaw.

“I knew that I knew you.” She whispered.

Both women cried and kissed, utterances of love and adoration that neither of their souls had heard for a very long time.

They had both found their way back home. And they’ll be damned if they let anyone chase them away.

#rwby #blake belladonna #bumbleby #yang xiao long #rwby spoilers #rwby dc comics #tw suicide mention

[quickspinner]

MLHolidays2k19 - 19. Naughty and Nice

A continuation of 18. Elves

Please do not kill me, y’all, there will be a part 3, I promise.

Note: Part 3 is here!

Luka honestly didn’t expect her to come. Not many girls would come even to a mall bar like this dressed like one of Santa’s elves. Not to mention it was entirely possible that she thought he was a creep. He was kind of hitting on her while she was working, against his own policy. She was just so cute and sweet, and if he wasn’t totally misreading her, she was maybe a little bit into him too, and he couldn’t stomach the idea of missing out completely, so he gave her the most low-pressure invitation he could think of. Luka tried not to think about it after that.

It didn’t go very well. Outwardly he kept his cool, but internally he diverted his thoughts into a list of reasons she wouldn’t come and why he shouldn’t be disappointed. She’d doubtless be tired after handling kids and parents all day. And it was a little weird for a grown woman to be dressing up as an elf. Although it was pretty selfless of her to do it for charity, and year after year, too, it was a kind—wait, no. She probably thought he was a freak anyway, flirting with her after she cheered up his niece, like one of those pathetic guys who thought walking a puppy would help him meet girls. Man, he really hoped she didn’t think that, she was so cute and she seemed so nice and—damn it, Couffaine. 

Luka scanned the place every time he walked through as they were setting up. It wasn’t the type of venue he normally played, but the act that had originally been booked for tonight had bailed at the last minute, and the bartender had convinced the manager to let Luka’s band play, though their sound was a bit heavy for the kind of crowd that frequented this place. The stage was smaller, the sound system less powerful, and the lighting quite a bit brighter than what they were used to, but a gig was a gig. Luka had visited while another band was playing to get the feel of the place, and he’d done his best to tailor their set list to make the most of it.

He was just about to go on when he spotted her, leaning against the bar and breathing hard, like she had run to get here in time. Luka swerved away, ignoring his bandmates’ hissed demands for him to come back. “Hey,” he said, touching her elbow to get her attention. She turned toward him and her mouth dropped open a little as she looked him over. That was a nice ego boost, and Luka grinned. “Glad you could make it. I’ve gotta go on, but I’ll come find you after, okay? Enjoy the show.” 

He turned to go and then changed his mind.“Hey, Vic,” Luka called, leaning over the bar. “Do me a favor, let Santa’s Helper here order a drink on my tab?”

Victor gave him a wave and Luka headed back to his aggravated bandmates with a shit-eating grin and an extra bounce in his step.

Luka felt good about the performance; the audience seemed into it, the sound quality was acceptable, and it looked like the balance was okay. The lights were hotter than he liked, but that was a minor difficulty, and he was prepared for it. 

Luka ditched his bandmates as soon as he could when the show was over, doing the bare minimum to help with the breakdown before slipping away (the others grumbled, but every one of them had been in this situation before, so they just rolled their eyes as they took his spare keys to the van). Luka stopped in the men’s room to rinse off the worst of the sweat and change to a clean shirt, and then he slipped out in search of the cute elf waiting for him. At least, he hoped she waited for him. He paused at the end of the bar when he didn’t see her right away. He jumped when Victor spoke right at his elbow.

“Nice performance.” Victor slid a shot across the bar to him. “I think you’re going to need this.” 

Luka looked at him, confused, and Victor tipped his head to indicate a seat a few feet farther down the bar. Luka turned to look where he indicated, and his jaw dropped. 

That...was not the elf he expected. Marinette had removed her false ears and name tag of course, but also the belled collar that had lain over her shoulders, her white, long-sleeved undershirt, and the scalloped green overskirt with the bells on it, leaving her in just the red sleeveless dress with its candy cane striped belt. Her striped stockings and belled shoes were also gone, replaced with a simple pair of flats. Her arms were bare, her dress was no longer buttoned up tight to her throat, and her very nice legs were crossed as she perched on the bar stool. She’d taken her hair out of the pigtails and it hung loose around her shoulders. Marinette looked up and smiled a little nervously as someone leaned over to talk to her, and he could see she’d redone her makeup as well, making the most of her stunning blue eyes. 

Luka groped for the shot still on the bar without looking away. Victor laughed and shoved it into his hand. Luka tossed it back, barely registering the burn. “Thanks, Vic,” he managed, before he took a deep breath, and went to greet his cute but suddenly not so innocent little elf. 

“Hey,” he said, looking her over. “Wow. I thought you were cute before but I gotta say, I’m impressed.” 

“Oh,” Marinette blushed. “I didn’t really do much, I just wanted to, you know,” she waved a hand vaguely. “Blend in a little better.”

“Well,” Luka chuckled, looking away before he embarrassed himself staring at her legs, “If that was your plan, then I’m afraid it failed miserably, because you—“ He met her eyes again. “Definitely stand out.”

She blushed harder, but picked up her drink with a flirty little toss of her hair and sniffed, “I’ll bet you say that to all the elves.”

Luka laughed. “Oh my God, you’re so cute,” he chuckled. “Listen, I’m starved, how about we grab a table and get some food? Are you hungry? On me, for taking such good care of Angie. Rose loved the pictures, by the way.”

“Oh, good. Is she feeling any better?”

The question surprised him a little. “Yeah, I think they’re getting towards the end finally. Rose is upright, at least, but Jules is still spending most of her day face down praying to die.” He smiled at her. “Thanks for asking, most people wouldn’t even remember.”

“It’s good that Angie didn’t get sick,” Marinette observed, taking his offered hand and letting him help her down from the bar stool. 

“Oh she did,” Luka chuckled. “She’s the one who gave it to her moms. Now she’s all better and wanting to play while they’d rather die than move from the couch. Needless to say I’ve been doing a lot of babysitting the last week or so. I had it a few months ago so they figured I was safe. I promise, I’ve been keeping her clean and sanitized so she can’t pass it along.”

Marinette wrinkled her nose. “Alya made me get a flu shot before we volunteered.”

“That was probably smart.”

A quick word with the hostess got them a table in the restaurant part of the bar, a small circular booth in the corner that was actually probably as private as the place could offer. That was nice. “Are you hungry?” he asked, passing her a menu.

“So hungry,” she sighed, leaning back against the back of the booth. 

“You look tired,” Luka said sympathetically. “Sounded like you were in for a long day when we talked before.” 

“Yeah,” she turned her face toward him and smiled, and his heart stuttered at the cute way her hair bunched up behind her when she shifted her head. “It was a good day, though, and I’m not sorry I stayed. It took us longer to pack up than I expected and I almost didn’t make it. You guys did great up there, I really enjoyed the show.” 

“Good,” Luka said, trying to contain himself as he looked over the menu. “I’m glad we made it worth your time to come. This isn’t exactly the type of place we usually play, though, so we toned everything down a bit tonight. I’d like to have you come see us play for real sometime.” He glanced at her and thought he saw a hint of pink in her cheeks, though she was studying her menu as intently as he. 

“I’d like that,” she said, and then darted a glance up at him. They smiled at each other and went back to the menu. 

They chatted their way all through dinner, with a generous mixture of flirting whenever one of them could get up the nerve. She talked about her work as a junior designer and her volunteer work with the hospital, and he talked about his family and the musicians he worked with. 

Marinette was pretty and she was sweet and she was smart as a whip, and Luka was somewhere between smitten and enamored by the time they ordered dessert. She asked to try his and he ended up sliding close so they could share both. 

Then she looked up at him, giggling at something he’d said, and there was a smear of chocolate on her lip that did him in entirely. There was no sign of his usual self-control as Luka moved toward her, catching her face in his hand and turning it up so he could catch her chocolate smeared lip between his, tongue eagerly running across it to sweep the sweet syrup into his own mouth. Then he moved just enough to kiss her more fully, and just as his brain was catching up enough to realize just how forward he’d been, she kissed him back and he lost his mind again, one arm going around her waist to pull her closer, angling to bring her in deeper, and her hands slid up his arms to grip his shoulders, and they were well on their way to a full-blown make out when the sudden slap of the folder containing their check on the table made them both jump. The server gave them a dirty look as he walked away. The message was clear. Stop camping my table and get a room.

“Oh,” Marinette gasped, and turned to grope for her oversized purse. It jingled when she grabbed it and Luka bit back a laugh. 

“I’ve got it,” Luka said, flashing her a smile as he picked up the folder. “I told you it was on me.”

“Wow, it’s really late,” Marinette said, looking at her phone. “I guess we were talking for kind of a long time.” She smiled at him regretfully. “I should head home.” 

“Let me grab my guitar, I’ll walk you to the metro station,” Luka said, sliding out of the booth and offering her a hand. He wanted to offer her a ride, but intense chemistry or not, he didn’t think she’d be comfortable getting in a car alone with him at night. Especially since he drove what Juleka lovingly referred to as a “kidnapper van” to accommodate the band’s equipment.

“You don’t have to do that,” Marinette said as she slid out of the booth. Luka realized he was staring and quickly diverted his eyes from her legs, though he was pretty sure she’d caught him from the way she tugged her skirt down.

“I want to,” he smiled, squeezing her hand lightly before letting go. “I’ll meet you right outside? I’m already packed up, I just have to grab my things.”

Luka booked it as quick as he could to the back. He put on his coat, shouldering the guitar case and his bag, barely remembering to snatch up his hoodie where it was draped over a chair before he left. He cut through the dwindling crowd to the entrance, winking in response to the thumbs up Victor gave him as he passed.

Marinette was standing just inside the door, looking out of the windows and chewing her thumbnail. 

“Don’t you have a coat?” Luka asked, frowning. Marinette jumped nearly out of her skin and whirled. 

“Oh. Oh, sorry. Um, no, actually, I think I left it in the locker at the North Pole and they’ll be locked up by now,” she sighed, shoulders slumping. “It’s fine, I’ll just grab it in the morning.” 

“Sorry, didn’t mean to startle you,” Luka said, draping his hoodie over her shoulders. “Here, you’ll freeze like that. It’s not much, but it’s better than nothing.”

“Thank you,” Marinette smiled, slipping her arms in the sleeves and zipping it up. Luka turned to open the door for her, mostly to hide the grin on his face at the way his hoodie swallowed her. 

Marinette seemed jumpy as they walked, which wasn’t surprising since it was pretty cold outside and the hoodie really wasn’t much. She flat refused to take his heavier coat. Her cheeks were pink from the wind, and he couldn’t get a good look at her face in the streetlights. It was too cold for chitchat, and at their quick pace, it didn’t take long for them to reach their destination.

“Well, here we are,” Luka said, stopping to turn toward her as they reached the metro entrance. 

“Thanks for walking me,” Marinette smiled, pushing her hair back as the wind tried to blow it in her face. “It was really nice meeting you.” 

“I’d really like to see you again,” Luka said, reaching tentatively to take her hand loosely. “I know it’s kind of crazy right now with the holidays, but could I get your number, and maybe we can see about finding some time to get together?” 

“Oh...” Marinette bit her lip, and the deer in the headlights look she gave him stopped his heart. Her next words broke it. “I just—I mean, I don’t, uh…I mean we just met, and—” 

“Okay,” he smiled, letting her fingers slide out of his. “Then I guess, thanks for a great night, Marinette. I had fun.” He hesitated, and couldn’t help adding hopefully, “I’m taking Angie to Place des Vosges tomorrow to play. We’ll probably get there around ten. If you change your mind, that’s where I’ll be.” 

“Um, your jacket—” Marinette began, reaching for the zipper of the hoodie, but Luka raised his hand.

“Keep it, I’ve had it forever, it’s no big deal. Goodnight, Marinette.” Luka turned quickly, trying to keep his exit slow enough that he didn’t look like a dog fleeing with his tail between his legs. It wasn’t like he’d never been rejected before, but this one stung. 

It stung a lot.

He walked to his van, stowed his guitar mechanically, and dropped his head on his folded arms. “Idiot,” he muttered. “Damn it.” He sighed, sat up, and started the van.

TO BE CONTINUED please don’t kill me THINK OF THE FICS I CAN’T WRITE IF I DIE

Part 3 is up!

#quickspins #mlholidays2k19 #lukanette #i am lukanette trash i admit it #miraculous ladybug #miraculousladybug #luka couffaine #marinette dupain-cheng #mlfics #promptfic

[louhooo]

Saturdays

Warnings: swearing (barely), fluff, maybe some adult themes if you squint

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 4.3k

Summary: Steve has a weekly routine that he looks forward to, but plans change.

A/N: Feedback is always welcomed! 💕

Saturday was the best day of the week. According to Steve, anyways. 

It was the one day he could count on cuddling without the interruption of her alarm looming in the air. Most Saturdays consisted of staying in bed until late morning, and then moseying around the apartment until their stomachs were growling. Despite whatever food was in the kitchen, she always wanted pizza from the shop a few blocks down from the apartment. Seventy-eight Saturdays had followed the weekly tradition, and Steve wasn’t going to start changing things now. 

He could hear her breathing starting to shift, and he peppered lingering kisses along her neck.

She started to stir, her body subconsciously drawing her closer to the touch. A light kiss behind  her ear and her eyes opened sleepily, a lazy grin stretching across her face.

“Mornin’, baby,” Steve’s raspy voice vibrated in her ear, followed by another kiss on the back of her neck. She hummed.

“G’mornin’.” The husk in her voice made Steve grin against her shoulder. Y/N wiggled closer to him, hiking the comforter up to her chin. More kisses along her hairline and a sigh left her lips. “Can you shower first?” His lips stilled, his brows pinching together. Separate showers did not follow the “Saturday” plan.

“Shower?”

“Yeah, so you can have hot water, too,” she chuckled at her own joke in a sleepy, delirious way. “You always complain I use all the hot water.” He really needed to talk to the landlord about the water heater.

“No-Yes, I do, but why do you want me to shower?”

“We promised to watch Morgan.” The conversation with Tony immediately came back. Three weeks ago, Y/N and Steve had reservations to make, and were rushing to get out of the Tower when Tony stopped them both in the hallway. Tony had pulled his phone out, insisting that he needed to show Y/N the video of Morgan playing dress-up. 

In the video, Morgan wore a long black dress (one that was carefully selected from her mother’s closet) and black sunglasses that covered most of her face and only stayed up if she tilted her head back. Morgan applied bright, sparkly lip gloss in the pink plastic vanity mirror located in her room and when Tony asked who she was, and she replied “Aunt Y/N”. The smile Y/N gave was blinding, and Tony knew he had her hook, line, and sinker. 

Steve’s head dropped forward in defeat against her back.

“You forgot, didn’t you?” Humor was laced in her voice. Steve nodded, his head still resting on her back. “Your age is really starting to show, babe.” Steve growled, lightly pinching the flesh on her thighs. She squealed, giggles erupting throughout the apartment. Steve sighed, lifting his head to peek at her face.

“Do you think we could cancel?” A loud gasp and she moved to look at him.

“Steven Grant Rogers! You would deprive our sweet Morgan of the opportunity to see her favorite person!?” Another gasp, “You think you know someone….” Steve rolled his eyes, ignoring the smirk creeping onto her face. She flipped the covers off her naked legs and got out of bed, sending a swift pat to his ass as her feet touched the floor. 

“Oh, come on, ya big baby. Get in the shower and I’ll get your coffee started.” She picked up his blue button-up from yesterday and slipped it on, buttoning enough to keep most of herself covered.

Steve was not too happy with how his Saturday was developing.

“We should be back by ten. There’s numbers on the fridge, poison control, and all that. She was up late last night ‘cause she was so excited you two were coming, she didn’t get a lot of sleep, so she’ll probably nap after lunch. Bath before bed, and bedtime’s at eight.” Steve and Y/N had been at Pepper and Tony’s for about thirty seconds before Morgan firmly attached herself to Y/N, and wouldn’t let her go. Y/N didn’t mind. She loved the love the small, tiny human gave to her, and greedily accepted the attention whenever she could.

Pepper placed a kiss on Morgan’s cheek, “Be good for Y/N and Steve. Mom and Dad will see you in the morning.” Morgan smiled, looking exactly like Tony, but much cuter than Tony could ever dream to be.

“Pep, we gotta go if you want to get there early.”

“You mean on time?”

“I literally don’t see how what I said is any different.” Pepper rolled her eyes good-naturedly and moved so Tony could say goodbye to Morgan. “Come’ere, squirt.” He held out his arms for her, but she only tightened her grip around Y/N’s neck. Tony blinked and stood to his full height. “My own daughter? My own flesh and blood. You’re not gonna hug your old man goodbye? Wow, I’m hurt. Truly wounded.” Morgan was a bundle of giggles, especially with the sad pout on her dad’s face.

She finally relinquished her grip, rolling her eyes in a similar fashion to her mother and reaching out for Tony. He smiled and transferred the little girl from Y/N’s arms to his and planted a big kiss on Morgan’s cheek.

“Be good. Don’t wear out Cap, okay, little miss? He might break a hip.” Steve gave a deadpan stare at Tony, who only smiled in return. More goodbye kisses and hugs were exchanged, and the three waved goodbye to Pepper and Tony from the porch. As soon as they were out of sight, Y/N and Morgan were off to the playroom, leaving Steve behind.

The first time Y/N and Steve ever watched Morgan, he quickly discovered Morgan did not like to share the attention of his girlfriend. Steve was sure that the only reason Morgan liked Steve in any form was because of who he was dating. Y/N would tease him about being jealous of a little kid, but Steve would maintain that he wasn’t. He wasn’t. (Okay, maybe a little pang of jealously went to his heart when she gave Morgan more attention, but Steve wasn’t sharing that detail with anyone. He talked with Bucky about it once and he got smacked on the back of his head for being an idiot. Never again.)

Steve was just fated to be the tall guy that helped reach the hidden cookies in the pantry and saved Morgan and Y/N from insects. It was fine. Just fine.

He finally made it to the playroom and leaned against the doorframe, watching as the girls dumped an egregious amount of glitter into a plastic bucket. Y/N looked up, feeling eyes on her, and smiled at Steve’s confused face.

“We’re making slime. For the team.” Steve raised his brows in understanding and watched them work, talking animatedly to one another, and paying no mind to him.

“Well, I’m gonna go over some reports down in the kitchen.” An eager “Okay!” from Morgan, and a wide smile and nod from his girlfriend. Steve sighed and went back downstairs.

Steve definitely was not jealous of a six year old.

After the slime had been divided into equal containers and labeled accordingly, Morgan and Y/N were ready to eat. Slime creation works up quite the appetite, after all. 

Breaded chicken in the shape of dinosaurs were placed in the oven, and watermelon and pineapple were cut into the shape of stars and hearts and placed in a glass bowl. Steve was in charge of cutting up carrots into sticks, though he was pretty sure Y/N only gave him the job so he wouldn’t feel left out.

They ate lunch outside on a yellow quilt in the shade, the breeze blowing every so often, enough to keep them cool. Morgan picked out where everyone should sit, unsurprisingly keeping Y/N directly beside her, and Steve on the other side of them. Morgan talked enthusiastically about what they could do after lunch.

“We can build a fort! And-And-And Daddy made me my own Iron Man helmet, so-so we can play Avengers!” The adults chuckled at her excitement.

“Do you have knives I can borrow? And Steve’s gonna need his shield….”

“I’m not supposedta touch the knives, but I think you can since you’re a grown-up! And we can make a shield for Steve.”

“Ooo, can we use glitter? I, personally, think we should use glitter.” Steve couldn’t hide the grin on his face when she smiled like that. Cheeky and entirely proud of teasing him. Morgan giggled and bit the head off the dinosaur nugget.

“And, I have glow-in-the-dark stars we can use, too!” Y/N wiggled her brows at Steve, a half-eaten carrot stick in her hand.

“How’s that sound, babe?” He chuckled when Morgan gave him the same look Tony gives when he’s impatiently waiting.

“Sounds perfect, girls.” She held up her hand for Morgan, and they shared a high-five in victory.

“We should probably rest, first, don’t ya think? We can’t fight the bad guys when we’re tired.” Morgan chewed on her lip.

“Yeah… I guess.” Y/N nodded with a serious expression on her face.

“Steve, don’t you always say ‘You can’t fight bullies without taking a quick nap first’?” Steve nodded back with a matching serious look.

“I do. Ask Sam and Bucky, I have to make them take naps all the time. One time they didn’t nap before a mission and we almost lost,” Steve’s gaze shifted over to Y/N, “But your aunt here… well, she basically saved the world.” Steve could hear her heart start to beat a little faster, and could see a faint pink making its way to her cheeks. Morgan stared wide-eyed up at Y/N, her mouth agape in a similar fashion to a fish.

“Is that true…? Did you really save the whole world!?” Y/N grinned and nodded her head, tucking Morgan’s hair out of her face. “Wooooow….” Morgan was stunned that her aunt had saved everyone from the bad guys. She had the coolest aunts.

Lunch was finished and Steve and Y/N were in a food induced sleepiness while Morgan searched for dandelions. Y/N rolled over to Steve, curling into his side. Her back was to his chest  and she was currently tracing the lines of his palm, both of them propped on their elbows.

“You’re sweet for telling her I saved the world.”

Steve grinned and kissed the top of her head, “You did save the world. On more than one occasion.” Y/N rolled her eyes and lightly pinched his palm. “What? I can’t brag about my girlfriend?” She snorted.

“You’re exaggerating.” Steve chuckled and kissed the shell of her ear. He wasn’t exaggerating, but he knew she would hear none of it. There were very few things she bragged about, and none of them involved anything she did with the Avengers. Baking cookies that the whole team loved? Couldn’t shut her up about it. Saving the world from an alien attack? Wouldn’t even know she was there.

She giggled, her shoulder coming up towards her ear, “That tickles.”

“Oh, so then you probably wouldn’t like if I did this…” Steve rested his hand on her hip. He felt her tense in front of him as he started to tighten his grip.

“Steven…” A warning that he could hear her smile through. He’d been too focused on Y/N, that he didn’t hear the soft crunch of the grass getting closer.

“Y/N, can you make me a flower crown?” Y/N laid her hand on top of Steve’s and squeezed, a silent question to let her move. Steve moved his hand back and watched her move and sit beside Morgan, bending and tying the stems into a crown. Morgan beamed and let Y/N place it on top of her head. Steve watched as Morgan tried to hide her yawn behind her hand as she twirled for them.

“Alright, girls, let’s go nap, then we’ll protect Earth.” Steve pushed himself up, collecting the dinnerware into one of his hands. Y/N stood up next, collecting the quilt and asking Morgan to carry her empty juice box. Morgan ran up so she was the first one inside, her little bare feet slapping on the hardwood flooring in the kitchen.

“Aunt Y/N, will you lay with me?” Eyelashes were batted and Y/N chuckled, dropping the quilt on the bench by the door.

“Of course, honey,” she looked back at Steve and grinned, “Don’t fall asleep without me. I’ll be right back.” Steve smirked, nodding his head. The girls walked upstairs, and Steve settled on the couch, turning the TV on. Y/N and Steve were over enough that they had their own playlist of shows and movies, something Y/N just went ahead and made, insisting Tony and Pepper wouldn’t care. They didn’t, but Tony did like to tease her about how many “obnoxious reality housewife shows” she watched.

Steve could hear faint giggles upstairs as he searched through the options. He settled on an episode of “I Love Lucy” he hadn’t watched yet when he noticed the giggles died down. Ricky was in the middle of lecturing Lucy, when Steve felt the couch dip. He turned and saw the little girl with brown hair who was supposed to be asleep. She prided herself on being a good “sneaker”.

Morgan turned and looked back at him, “Y/N’s asleep.” Steve blinked, tilting his head slightly.

“Aren’t you tired? Your mom said you stayed up late last night.” Morgan shrugged and turned back to watch Lucy cry dramatically.

“I’ll just go to bed early.” Steve gave a skeptical glance, but didn’t comment. He was sure she would. Even if she didn’t think she was tired later on, Y/N would read Morgan as many stories as it would take until she fell asleep. 

“Alright.” Steve turned back to watch the TV. A few minutes later, Morgan scooted closer to him, picking up his arm and resting her head on chest. Steve was frozen. It wasn’t that he and Morgan didn’t get along, they did, but she liked Y/N way more than she liked him. He wasn’t used to her affection being directed at him.

“Uncle Steve?” Steve rested his arm her after snapping out of his haze.

“Yeah, sweetheart?” Big brown eyes looked up at him.

“Are you and Aunt Y/N gonna get married?” Steve blinked. Was this one of Tony’s pranks? He had mentioned something about “Candid Camera”, and when Steve looked it up later, he was slightly worried of the extremes Tony would go to, to prank him.

Using his daughter to ask Steve if he was marrying his girlfriend, was not something he had imagined.

Steve cleared his throat, “Why do you ask?”

“’Cause you love her.”

“Well, yeah, but you can love someone and not get married. Doesn’t mean you love them any less if you aren’t married.” Morgan’s brows pinched.

“But…” Her little brain was having a hard time processing. “You look at her the same way Daddy looks at Mama, and they’re married.” Steve grinned, rubbing his thumb over her arm.

“Maybe one day, but your aunt and I are happy just the way things are right now.” Morgan hummed, dissatisfied with that answer. At this rate, she wasn’t going to get to be a flower girl for anyone!

“Well, I think you should…!” Steve chuckled.

“Oh, yeah? Why’s that?” Morgan sat up more to convey how serious she was.

“Be-cause, I think you should.” Steve laughed.

“I’ll take your reasoning into consideration.” Morgan seemed satisfied enough with that answer and laid her head back down. Two more episodes played before Steve heard her breathing soften. Steve watched one more episode before his own exhaustion got the better of him.

When Y/N finally woke up and headed downstairs in search of the six-year-old who abandoned her in her bed, her heart nearly melted when she saw Morgan and Steve asleep on the couch. She took a quick picture before turning off the TV, and going into the kitchen to wash the few dishes from lunch. 

As she was finishing up, Steve came in, wiping the sleep from his eyes. Y/N dried her hands after draining the water and wrapped her arms around his waist. They stood in quiet contentment, until they heard quiet footsteps coming into the kitchen. Morgan leaned against Y/N’s leg, joining in their peace.

For about… two minutes.

“I’m hungry.” Y/N chuckled and removed herself from Steve.

“Ants on a log?” Morgan smiled.

“Ants on a log,” she repeated back in agreement.

Raisins were replaced with chocolate chips, and they ate while they made Steve a substitute shield. Y/N thought her heart melted seeing Morgan and Steve asleep on the couch together, but she nearly lost it when Morgan sat on Steve’s lap while she colored the blue of his shield. 

He looked at her with undeniable shock as Morgan went on like everything was perfectly normal. Y/N gave him an impressed eyebrow raise in return.

Once the shield was finished and doused with glitter, Y/N went in search of knives she could use. Of course she wasn’t going to use real knives like she normally used, something she had to reassure Steve of multiple times before she went downstairs. 

Accidentally leave a knife in a purse one time, and Steve has to bring it up every chance he gets.

She found plastic ones with Mickey Mouse on the handle shoved in the back of the silverware drawer. They’d have to do. 

An elaborate scheme to save Mr. Bear from the Hydra base (located at the trunk of the oak tree in the backyard) was concocted by Morgan. It was determined that Y/N would use her knives to weaken Hydra (Troll dolls) and Morgan, or Iron Girl (official name still pending) would fly in on Steve’s back and rescue Mr. Bear and Steve would knock out any Hydra that sneaked past Y/N.

Y/N hit each of her targets, giving a two finger salute to Steve. He held up his shield with one hand, his other hand tucked behind his back to keep Morgan safely secured. As they approached the tree, Morgan shouted, “Cap, watch out!” Three Trolls members of Hydra dropped down from the tree, lime green yarn tied around their legs. Steve used his shield to protect Iron Girl, and faintly wondered how she booby trapped the toys to drop, when Y/N whistled. 

It was the same one she gave out in the field, so without questioning, Steve ducked, and a knife came flying through the air, cutting the yarn of the Hydra closest to them. Iron Girl reached for Mr. Bear and secured him under her arm, and Steve ran them out of the area Y/N named the “danger zone”. She also laughed after calling it that, so Steve made a mental note to look that up later.

They met up back on the jet (or the front porch) and Morgan, now free of her helmet, assessed Mr. Bear for any injuries. Two Sesame Street bandages were placed on Mr. Bear’s arm and nose, but the mission was a success. 

“I say we have some lemonade and go swim in the lake now. I think we deserve it.” Morgan cheered and abandoned her helmet on the wicker chair on the porch before running inside to change. Y/N could feel Steve’s eyes on her, and turned back to him with a grin. “Good job, Cap.” He grinned and set the cardboard shield next to the child-sized helmet.

“Good job, agent.” He pointed over his shoulder with his thumb, “You’re gonna have to go find that knife you threw.”

She laughed, his smile growing at the sound, “Why do you think I suggested swimming?” Steve joined in her laughter as they went inside to change. She grabbed her backpack and pulled out his shorts, pushing the red polyester material into his hands. “Steve?” His eyes met hers. She stood on the tips of her toes, puckering her lips. Steve huffed a laugh through his nose and met her halfway. Her lips were soft against his, and he could faintly taste the lingering peanut butter on her tongue.

“Y/N!” A sigh from both, and they separated, Y/N sending him a love-drunk grin.

She turned her head over her shoulder, and shouted, “I’m coming!” She looked back at Steve and pecked his lips, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” Another smile and she was running upstairs to help Morgan with her swimsuit. He wandered into the bathroom and changed, answering a text from Tony, asking how things were going. Everything was perfect.

The rest of the afternoon was spent playing on the dock, listening to the pop songs Y/N had on her phone, and Steve helping Morgan work on floating on her back. By the time the sun was more in the west, they had all had enough and were ready to get ready for dinner. Pepper had left a dish that they could heat up, but when Y/N peeked at it, her nose turned up and she shook her head. Weekends are not for healthy, organic meals, and that’s a fact of life Y/N firmly lived by.

She found Tony’s stash of coupons for nearby pizza places and ordered two large pizzas, one for her and Morgan, and one for Steve. Y/N gave Morgan a bath, and after she was clean and dressed in her purple shorts and t-shirt, Morgan went to find Steve, who was cleaning up mission reports from the kitchen table.

“Uncle Steve?” Somehow she had picked up at an early age, that if her voice was sweet and innocent, Steve would do, pretty much, whatever she wanted. She may have learned that from her aunt, but the jury’s still out. (No, she definitely learned it from Y/N.)

“Yes, sweetheart?”

“Can you build a fort in the living room?” Steve grinned and stacked the files into a neat pile, setting them off to the side.

“You gotta help me, okay?” Morgan nodded happily, and they went in search of pillows and blankets. 

Forty-five minutes later and the pizza was delivered and the fort was ready in the living room. They skipped the dinnerware, opting to just eat straight from the pizza box, a concept that had Morgan in giggles the whole time. After eating and cleaning up, they turned on another episode of “I Love Lucy” and it wasn’t too long into the show when Steve noticed Morgan’s eyes start to droop more and more. 

Steve nudged Y/N with his foot.

“I think someone should go to bed.” She followed his line of sight and grinned tenderly at Morgan. She glanced at Steve.

“Do you think you can carry her?” Steve nodded and they crawled out of the fort. Y/N rubbed Morgan’s back, “Honey? Let’s go to bed.” A soft whine and murmur that she didn’t want to, but Y/N only rubbed her back again. “C’mon, Morgan. Steve’s gonna carry you, you don’t even hafta walk.” A deep sigh, and she sat up, with a look close to tears on her face. Her lack of sleep had finally caught up with her.

Steve bent and picked her up, one arm secured under her while the other rubbed her back. She breathed into his neck and he could smell her watermelon scented shampoo. Y/N led them upstairs, pulling back the covers on her bed. Steve gently placed Morgan in her spot, and Y/N pulled the blankets up to her shoulders.

“Good night, Morgan. We love you.” A final kiss to her forehead and the nightlight was turned on as the adults retreated from the bedroom. 

Tony and Pepper pulled into the driveway about an hour later. Tony glanced around, inspecting his home.

“Nothing looks broken…” Y/N rolled her eyes as she stood up from the couch. 

“I’m ignoring that for your own sake, Tony.” Pepper hid a yawn and stood next to her husband.

“Was she good?”

“A perfect angel.”

Pepper hummed, “I feel like her father says the same thing, even when she’s not.” Y/N and Steve laughed at the faux-offended look Tony cast to Pepper.

“No, she really was. We wore her out, so she should sleep in for ya.” Y/N covered her mouth as she yawned, and Steve put his hand on her lower back. “Well, we should take off.” Pepper grinned and hugged them both, thanking them again for watching Morgan. Tony motioned with his arm.

“I’ll walk you out to your car.” Y/N picked up her backpack and shoved her cellphone into the side pocket. They walked out to the car, Y/N too tired to focus on anything else. She climbed into the passenger seat, depositing her bag down by her feet and leaned back, closing her eyes. Steve glanced at the car and back at Tony, who raised a brow. “Cap.”

“You got a good thing here, Tony.” Tony’s face softened, the years having caught up with him as of late.

“I know.” Tony glanced at her sleepy form in the car. “You do, too, Rogers.” Steve gave a lopsided smirk, glancing back at her.

“Yeah… I do.” Tony slapped Steve’s shoulder in that way only men seem to do, and he stepped onto the porch and watched Steve get into the car and pull out onto the main road. Y/N finished clicking her seatbelt, and angled her body towards him.

“What did you and Tony talk about?” Steve laid out his hand, palm up, and she interlaced her fingers with his. He brought her knuckles to his lips.

“Just how nice it is up here.” She hummed in agreement, her eyes too heavy to keep open. Just like Morgan, Steve was sure he’d have to help get Y/N into bed, and he was perfectly fine with it. He’d carry her to bed every night if she asked him to.

Seventy-nine Saturdays they had spent together, and this was one of the best.

#Steve Rogers x Reader #Steve Rogers x You #Steve Rogers x Y/N #Steve x Reader #Steve x You #Steve x Y/N