#I was initially going to screen cap it and make an actual response but it kept going and I didn’t want to take that many pics

[is-the-owl-video-cute]

I can’t respond to it directly as who-is-page blocked me after posting it, but if you want to see an absolute novel of a nonsensical take on that zoophile post, well, take it I suppose.

#Incredibly #it is too long to be the next copypasta #which is a shame #because it is otherwise perfect for the task #I was initially going to screen cap it and make an actual response but it kept going and I didn’t want to take that many pics

[joinchris]

6 Website Must-Have’s for Small Businesses

Could it be said that you are an entrepreneur or business visionary and aren’t content with your site’s presentation? This eTip is tied in with taking advantage of your site for your business. If you have any desire to see to a greater extent a return from your site, then I have 6 unquestionable requirements that are only for you!

So what are these 6 things you should have to have a high-performing site? Continue to watch!

6 Essentials For a High Performing Business Website

1. Steady and Professional Branding

When individuals see your site, does it look steady with your web-based entertainment? Your site and online entertainment ought to have steady marking across all stages. Consistency is critical here yet it requires looking proficient. A novice-looking site won’t draw in the right sorts of clients. Initial feelings are critical so it doesn’t make any difference how extraordinary you are if the way it’s introduced looks modest or amateurish. Ensure you don’t plan something only for you. You may love a variety or plan yet in the event that not something would speak to your clients, then it ought not to be on your site. We utilize purple a ton ourselves yet we know it’s really great for our business so remember you might be putting individuals off on the off chance that you’re the one in particular who seriously loves a variety or plan component.

2. White Hat SEO (Search Engine Optimization)

Try not to misjudge the force of good SEO. With SEO you are ensuring your site isn’t just something web search tools will list and (ideally) show to clients however that it’s done well. You are contending with different sites for similar key expressions clients enter and your objective is to be at the highest point of those results when looked through by your objective market.

Many individuals need comprehension of SEO despite the fact that it’s critical. You’re rivaling numerous different sites. In the event that you don’t have great white cap SEO, then, at that point, regardless of how great your site is, clients will not have the option to track down it.

Take a gander at the basics in on-location SEO like having your keyphrase focuses on things like the title labels, meta information, and the URL. An extraordinary model is in the event that you’re selling a book. Many individuals will list the URL relating to their book as kesbs concepts. What you ought to do is have a URL like this: Here. The title will probably be naturally associated with your substance with great keyphrases in it and Google will actually want to understand that. You could in fact add the catchphrases you need to rank for to components like picture naming and alt labels as well. Ensure you have your ideal key stages set and afterward remember them for the on-location duplicate. All of this is the setup for SEO so Google knows what you need to rank for. This piece of the business is overwhelming so go ahead and connect for help from somebody who does proficient site improvement. However, look out for abroad tricks, take care of business solitary continue once you’re agreeable. Search for somebody who will figure out your business and work with the marking, site advancement, and SEO together since these all work best when they are cooperating.

3. Responsive Website

A responsive site implies your site will show well on telephones and every single more modest screen. Quite a while back sites just needed to show well on workstations. Now that PDAs are normal, it’s vital to have a site that can show well on one. With a responsive plan, your site will change its showcase while keeping up with similar data, making it effectively usable on a cell. Originators now and again selected to have two separate sites that would be distinguished by the gadget and would show the fitting one. With this, however, there were two sites to keep up with an update. With a responsive plan, the layout changes so you eliminate the overt repetitiveness of doing everything two times. Google puts a great deal of significance on portable ease of use so it’s a truly smart thought to get a responsive site on the off chance that you don’t have one as of now.

On the off chance that you couldn’t say whether your site is responsive or you want assistance making it that way if it’s not too much trouble, reach out and our site engineers will ensure your site shows appropriately and performs well on cell phones. In the event that you don’t think your potential clients utilize advanced cells then, at that point, reconsider. More than half of individuals are on PDAs while they’re looking on the web so kindly reach out on the off chance that yours isn’t streamlined for cell phones.

4. List Building and Follow Up

List building is set up since, supposing that a client comes to your site interestingly, there is a little opportunity they’ll change over immediately. The chances are somewhat better assuming you offer something in the method of web-based business. Since clients are bound to change over after their most memorable visit, you need to give them a method for seeing their way back. An email pamphlet membership is an extraordinary approach to that. To fabricate your rundown you can take a stab at offering something with the expectation of complimentary like a download of a free how-to direct that requires the client to enter their email address to get it. There’s absolutely nothing that this can’t be: A sound document, video series, or PDF report. The point is to offer some benefit in return for the client focusing on giving you their email. Then, at that point, keep in contact with your rundown to develop the knowledge, as and entrust factor with this, giving them valid justifications to return.

5. Strong Marketing Message

A lot of business visionaries make their site about them. ‘I do’s ‘this is me’ ‘this is my specialty. Tragically for a client, this can leave them inquiring: what might be said about me? A site needs to console a guest they’ve shown up perfectly located. Your informing ought to obviously state what issues you tackle and that you are there to help. Use terms like “You” and “Your” as opposed to “Me” or “I”. Recruiting an expert publicist is smart since they comprehend the expectations of the guest’s requirements starting things out and can make what you do energizing, which helps convert them into a paying client.

Making fervor isn’t difficult to do so an incredible publicist is crucial for ensuring you get your site guests amped up for you and what you give.

6. Make It Easy To Reach You

Make the most common way of reaching you as simple as could be expected.

In the event that you have a web-based store, you really want a client care telephone number noticeably shown. It’s regularly positioned in the upper right half of the page. Regardless of whether you have a web-based store and you’re offering support or something different with a “Purchase Now” button, the help number consoles the client there is a genuine individual behind the scene on the off chance that they need assistance. Laying out trust is critical so giving them ways of reaching you in the event that vital is fundamental to laying out trust. You will get more site guests to focus on you and your business whenever trust is laid out.

Numerous business visionaries are stressed over having their telephone number out there however by the day’s end you really want one so anything that you can do to give one is an unquestionable necessity. Likewise have a decent contact structure. This and a telephone number are fundamental to laying out entrust with your likely clients. Have a CTA (Call To Action) that leads clients toward their objective. In the event that your change is qualified by a contact, lead clients on each page towards the contact page. Use buttons and text advising them to click and effectively reach out to you.

These are the unquestionable requirements for your site.

There are a lot more things to cover however these 6 are the fundamentals for progress. You might think you have a portion of these covered yet in the event that you’re involving a pre-assembled layout or an across-the-board arrangement, you might have something excessively swollen with exorbitant code to file well and it could really be neutralizing you.

Reach out to us on the off chance that your site is failing to meet expectations and we’ll take a gander at why and furnish you with a more expert choice.

We plan and foster destinations that are exceptionally worked to accomplish the objectives we layout with you.

That is all there is to it during the current week and remember whether you loved what you saw here if it’s not too much trouble, buy into our YouTube feed or pamphlet so you can get updates and recordings for private venture business visionaries consistently or leave a remark in the remarks underneath!

#website #web series #website design #copywriting #marketingstrategy #investment

[hes-writer]

Confessions: A ‘Favourite’ Extra

Summary: beatrice graduates and dad!harry is not invited

Warnings: angst!

Word Count: 3305 words

A/N: this is part of the ‘Favourite’ universe :D this scene takes place sometime between the first and second part! please read them before reading this.

Part One | Part Two

_____

Graduation.

Through Beatrice’s 18-years of living, she did not think that the celebration of liberation would be so sour. The day started off like any normal day. That is, except, she did not have to deliberately avoid the areas of the house that her dad, Harry, was in. It was strange that she had to feel uncomfortable in her own home.

For this special event, Beatrice had initially bought only three tickets for Ruby, Caleb and her mum, Y/N. Her dad had a packed schedule of promoting his newest album anyway so Beatrice thought that it wouldn’t even matter. She didn’t think he would want to come anyway. If Beatrice knew anything about her father is that he never really cared much about what went on in her life.

Beatrice supposes that it was okay. She had a whole lifetime to get used to it. A full lifestyle living on the edge because she didn’t know when her dad would clap-back with an insult for no reason. However, it didn’t mean that the spike in pain hurt any less. Don’t get her wrong; she was grateful for Y/N being around and involved. But Beatrice sometimes wondered how it would feel like to be wrapped in a fatherly embrace or be guided with wisdom and courage.

She really couldn’t remember the last time Harry did anything that made Beatrice feel like his daughter. Aside from the family photos they took on during the holidays or when celebrating whatever work achievement he managed to snag--that was the only time where Beatrice would feel Harry’s hand resting on her shoulder.

___

“Can I get one?” Ruby asked, tugging on the coloured strings of Beatrice’s cap. Her small body was being held by her older sister while Y/N took photos of the three siblings.

“Caleb, put your phone away please,” Y/N requested, shaking her head at the way the young boy groaned. Nonetheless, he followed the instruction.

"You’re lucky I love you or I would not have shown up,” Caleb grumbled, offering a sweet smile afterwards to suggest that he was joking. The three siblings posed for the camera, Beatrice trying hard not to let Ruby tilt her square cap.

Between a plastered smile, Beatrice replied, “Probably why dad isn’t here,”

Caleb widened his eyes significantly. Though, it seemed conspicuous to Y/N who was busy figuring out how to brighten the screen.

“That’s not true, sissy. He’s just busy,”

Beatrice chuckled, shrugging off the comforting hand of her younger brother, “Always busy but never when one of you have something going on,”

“It’s just a coincidence,”

“Yeah, sure,”

Caleb frowned at her response, focusing her attention on Ruby’s babbles. He almost spilled the surprise that their dad was going to watch Beatrice cross the stage. Caleb knew how his sisters felt about Harry and he hoped that his appearance would help patch things up between them.

Caleb walked over to Y/N, “Are you sure that Dad’s coming?”

Y/N nodded, “Yes, he said he’s looking for parking now,”

Caleb bit his lip nervously, “Do you think she’ll be surprised?”

——

“Graduate with honours, Beatrice Y/LN,”

Applause filled the venue as Beatrice walked up the steep steps of the stage. A shy smile was placed on her lips when she caught sight of the projector screen showcasing her achievements for her senior year.

In the audience, both Harry and Y/N were confused as to why Beatrice used her mother's name to be announced. The cinch in Y/N’s brow smoothed out when the principal continued speaking. Harry, however, couldn’t help the questioning frown.

“Top Chemistry. Top Biology. Overall Best Science Student. Gold Volunteer Badge. Level 4 Music Theory. Beatrice has been excelling both academically and musically while serving the community,”

Beatrice squinted at the bright lights, placing her diploma and speech on the podium. She had never been good at public speaking. However, her announced name gave Beatrice newfound confidence. It’s just her. All her achievements wouldn’t be credited to her father just because he was Harry Styles.

“Hi, uh,” She cleared her throat, “I’m Beatrice Y/LN and I’m very honoured to be standing in front of you today,”

Her speech was short and to the point; thanking her fellow classmates even though there were very few to thank personally. There were a few jokes in between and some nostalgic memories about various school events throughout the year. Beatrice mentioned remarks to her teachers who helped her achieve high grades. Lastly, she thanked her family for supporting  her

“I’d like to thank my family. My brother, Caleb. My sister, Ruby and my Mum. You guys have been so wonderful to me and I hope that I made you proud,”

Y/N was tearing up with a hand clasped over her mouth. She could not believe that her oldest daughter was off to university in a few weeks. Beatrice’s work ethic was unmatched and it showed in her getting the recognition that she deserved.

There was a pregnant pause before applause filled the space again. Despite switching her name last minute, everyone in her school knew that Beatrice was a Styles kid. They were probably waiting for her to mention him in her speech. But Beatrice felt no need to mention the man that had done nothing for her. He wasn’t even here.

“Thank you and congratulations, everyone!”

Harry slumped lower in his seat. He could feel Y/N’s worried eyes and Caleb’s observant gaze inspecting his face.

____

Beatrice stood beside her family, watching Harry a few metres away who was currently busy attending to the fans that recognized him. Even with his graying hair, many parents greeted him with a reminiscing statement about how they ‘saw him in concert back in the day’, to which he would chuckle at and proceed to converse for a few minutes until their child--Beatrice’s age--tugged them away.

All that Beatrice wanted to do was to get home and interact with her online friends. She had mentioned that she was graduating today and they were all very proud of her. Beatrice would rather take the peace and quiet of her own room than a bustling party.

“You’re invited,” Emma, a popular girl, stated while handing her a piece of paper with all the details of the party. Beatrice mumbled a hushed ‘thanks’, despite knowing that she wouldn’t even attend it in the first place.

“Are you going, Tris?” Y/N asked, holding Ruby’s hand so the youngest child would not get lost in the crowd.

Beatrice shook her head ‘no’, explaining that there was no point.

“I don’t know anyone there anyway,”

She was kind of a loner, but Beatrice was happier by herself anyways. “Besides, I don’t think dad will agree. It’s way past curfew,”

Y/N nodded in understanding. The curfew set for their eldest child was at nine in the evening. Y/N was sure that Harry would be lenient to let Beatrice go; it was her graduation after all. Sooner or later, Beatrice would be leaving for university.

____

Beatrice should be grateful. She should be happy, yet somehow those emotions were non-existent to her brain right now. She should be smiling, eyes brimming with tears because her dad actually cared to throw a party for her. But all she could feel right now was a pure disappointment and agonizing anger because Beatrice knows that he was trying to make up for years of mistreatment.

At this moment, the rowdiness of the party only proved that Harry really did not know anything about Beatrice. She did not know over half the people here, aside from the few relatives they see during the holidays; her grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles. The rest were recognizable from Harry’s industry. Beatrice swore she saw Lizzo sipping a cup of liquor in their kitchen.

Aside from the initial greeting of ‘congratulations’, paired with the large banister taped on the foyer of the house, this party wasn’t much of a celebration based on Beatrice’s milestone in life. If anything, it looked like a regular get together for celebrities and industry people. Frankly, she had no interest in interacting with them. As rude as it may sound, the swirling turmoil of emotions beginning from her stomach made Beatrice push past the packed crowd with a tight-lipped smile in order to get to her room.

She felt like she couldn’t breathe, especially knowing that these people in her house absolutely adored Harry. They saw him as a family man, loved and appreciated by his kids. It wasn’t a complete lie, per se. Beatrice just didn’t have much experience to confirm that he was, in fact, a lovable and caring person.

If she had to put a finger on it, Beatrice was feeling utter disgust. She was disgusted because Harry was the perfect person in their eyes when everything he had shown her was that she was someone that didn’t deserve any of his attention. It felt like this was a celebration of her dad’s façade--he was not actually proud of her. He was just making it seem like he is so he wouldn’t be perceived as the dead-beat dad.

A knock at her door sounded. It was almost as if Beatrice could sense her dad’s presence without turning around to look at who just entered the privacy of her room.

“Tris?” Harry whispered, hesitating on mumbling the nickname. He had never done it willingly before, much less not as bitter as the previous times.

Beatrice swore that she could practically see the venom slithering on his tongue every time he said her name. But maybe that was just her skewed perception.

The chair that she was sitting on creaked as she shifted her weight, leaning her elbows on her desk.

“Why did you even throw a party, dad?”

It was merely a genuine question that held so many underlying meanings. Why now? Why not earlier when there was still hope to fix whatever sort of broken and fucked up relationship they had with each other?

Harry fully stepped into the room, observing the walls decorated with art and artists whom he recognized were his friends. He didn’t realize that she was a fan of Florence Pugh.

He cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth, “I wanted to celebrate your graduation,”

Beatrice internally rolled her eyes, “Did you really? Because you haven’t been there when I needed your help with my homework or assignments or anything. Now,  suddenly you want to act like you were a big part of how I achieved my accomplishments?”

It was a sour realization. It was accurate that Harry refused to help her with schoolwork. He swore that he was busy looking over new options for his upcoming projects. Retrospectively, he might have subconsciously spewed out excuses so that he wouldn’t be able to help his dear daughter.

Beatrice sighed, flattening the balls of her palms against the edge of the sleek wood, pushing the rolling wheels of the chair back. She stood up.

“Just admit it. You threw the party because you felt guilty and you think that somehow, everything will magically be okay between us?” Beatrice shot him a questioning look, chest-puffing when Harry’s lack of words confirmed her theory.

Beatrice propped her feet in the middle of her room, twisting her body so that her back was facing away from the closed-door; from him. She breathed heavily through her nose, lungs rising up and down as she gathered her thoughts.

Unbelievable.

Harry stood with his arms by his sides, staring at his daughter with curious compassion. He did not know what to say, nor did he know how to act because he didn’t take the time to get to know her. He didn’t spend time with Beatrice; nurturing, caring, calming or comforting her because he simply couldn't get over the fact that she was once a person that caused calamity in his life.

“Tris,” Her dad spoke, earning a pinch of her facial expression from the familiarity of the nickname. Yet, it was unfamiliar because Harry used it mundanely.

Beatrice cut him off, “I’ll be leaving for university in a few weeks. You can quit pretending like you care. You say this graduation party is for me but I don’t even know most of the people here!”

The volume of her voice reached a threshold that should warn both of them to keep quiet. However, Beatrice knew that with the hustle and bustle of the celebration going on downstairs—no one would hear her honesty except for her and Harry.

Harry blinked twice, mouth dropping slightly agape. Why did he throw this party? He knew his intentions; he was proud of his daughter. He wanted to show her off to everyone he knew about how intelligent and well-rounded Beatrice was.

The girl continued speaking as if reading Harry’s train of thought.

“This is for you,” She spoke bitterly as if her tongue was left with an odd taste in her mouth. “Showing off a ‘trophy’ daughter who graduated with honours but that doesn’t matter, does it? Nothing I ever do will match what you’ve done.”

The accompanying laugh—albeit, sarcastic— left Harry confused.

“What? No, this is for you. I’m proud of you,” Harry quickly disagreed with Beatrice, gesturing his large hands in a wave to emphasize his words.

She turned around with gentle disbelief; her features were hardened yet Beatrice’s eyes gleamed with hope. She wanted so badly to believe her dad, but his lack of attentiveness to her led Beatrice to roll her eyes at him instead.

“Cut the crap, Dad,”

“Language,” Harry added, pursing his lips when Beatrice scoffed.

“I can’t believe this,” Beatrice muttered, she stared at the ground as if picking out the words to say.

As bad as it sounded, she wanted to hurt her dad the way he did to her. Years of being treated like an unwanted child slowly built up inside of her and Beatrice wanted the pain to end.

“You wanted to be everything so bad that you forgot to be my Dad,”

“I am your dad, Tris,” Harry watched as she walked over to her desk. Fingers cascading the glass picture frame which held a still of their family.

“Don’t you think I know that?” Beatrice turned around, throwing the edged frame on her bed in a fit of anger.

Harry’s brows shot up to his forehead, watching his daughter’s eyes well up with tears.

“You are my dad but you’ve never been one to me! Why is that? Huh?” Beatrice pressed, crossing her arms and digging her fingernails on the skin of her bicep.

“I’m sorry that I took those opportunities away from you. You got movie deals, You had an album coming out. Tours, shows, money—you had everything and I ruined it, didn’t I? As you said, it would’ve been better if I wasn’t born,”

Harry was no stranger to not interrupting someone when they spoke. However, he couldn’t let Beatrice believe the words she spoke.

“Don’t say that! That’s not true,” He stuttered over his words, heart-shattering under the weight of Beatrice’s truthfulness. Sure, he had everything, but it didn’t mean that he was satisfied.

“But you thought about it right? You wondered how different it would be if I wasn’t born at the wrong time. Maybe you would’ve loved me more—like you do Caleb and Ruby,” Beatrice smiled sadly.

She was glad that at least her siblings would not have to experience the searing pain of being unappreciated. They did not deserve to be seen through like a ghost.

“Maybe you would’ve paid more attention to me. Maybe you would have cared that I was hurting every time you showed me nothing but disdain,”

Beatrice used her forearm to wipe away the tears beginning to soak her reddened cheeks. She sighed, plopping down at the foot of her bed, watching Harry look at her with an unreadable emotion on his face.

“You know, It’s not my responsibility to ask why,” Beatrice whispered. Though, she wondered what would have happened if she did question her dad why he looked at her as if she was a burden in his life.

Beatrice’s monologue crescendoed as utter pain cracked her voice every now and then. Her figure slouching as she truly experienced what it was like to let go of the turmoiled affliction soaring through her body.

“I’m your child! You’re the one who’s supposed to be looking out for me. You’re the one who’s supposed to show me what love is supposed to feel like. I’ve always wondered how you’d react if I came home with a boyfriend like all the movies and books talk about. But, all you’ve shown and made me feel was my first heartbreak when you’re supposed to be the one nursing me from it,”

At that point, Harry could not remain the eye contact he shared with his daughter, gazing down at the floorboard in shame.

“You were supposed to scare guys off because I’m your eldest daughter. You’re supposed to protect me from everything that could hurt me, even when it’s irrational because that is what Dads do,”

That same bitter laugh that pierced Harry’s ears earlier echoed again.

“But I guess you never really wanted to become one to begin with. Or maybe just not with me.”

Harry took a few steps back. Her words figuratively churned and twisted his gut. He caught his balance on the doorknob that moved feverishly under his weight. Sure, he didn’t want to be her dad at first. And he had many chances to fix a strained relationship, but he never took them. So really, he had no shield at denying the truth. He was simply a father who failed to be the dad to Beatrice.

“I-I do! I want to be--if you'd let me,” He hated the way his voice became weary.

Despite their differences, Beatrice and Harry both mutually hated the way his tone pinched. The way he had to plead and beg for his daughter’s forgiveness when it seemed to be too late. This could have been avoided if Harry took the chance to become the dad that Beatrice deserved to have. The dad that her siblings--Caleb and Ruby--saw and spent time with while Beatrice watched behind, wondering why she was never treated the way they did.

“For years, I wondered what was wrong with me. I listened to the music that you liked. I asked mum what you enjoyed doing because you never talk to me. I wanted you to see me as a daughter instead of this--this invisible speck that you shrug off your shoulder every time I needed you!” Beatrice cried out, hugging herself for comfort.

The worst part was that she could see Harry’s legs buckle in hesitation to come closer to her or not. He shouldn’t even have to think to comfort his daughter, but he did.

“I wanted you to like me as if I even have to do that in the first place! You’re my dad, don’t you get it? Because I didn’t. I spent so much time being the perfect child in hopes of you giving me an ounce of your attention aside from the face you put on when I walked into the room. Why did you have to treat me this way, huh?”

Tears spilled from her forest-green eyes, identical to Harry’s glazed ones. His mouth parted in retaliation. As if he was plopped in quicksand, Harry had no idea how to defend himself.

“I know that you didn’t want me in the first place but--,” Beatrice sniffled, wiping the salty liquid to her damp temples, “I just wished you treated me like I wasn’t a burden to you,”

_____

#harry styles one shot #harry styles imagine #harry styles x reader #harry styles writing #harry styles angst #Harry styles fan fic #Harry styles fanfiction

[themaribatpit]

Hanging by a Thread: Chapter 3

Rated M: DC canon-typical violence, suggestive threats

Author’s Note: Neither of us are actually American, and DC Fanboy has some gripes with certain American habits.  Please feel free to tell us how uncultured we are in the comments, and try and explain yourselves to non-Americans.

Ships: Jason Todd/Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Dick Grayson/Barbara Gordon (side ship).

Taglist:

@aespades​, @neakco, @ladybug-182, @seraphichana, @zalladane, @luminous-carrot, @jayjayspixiepop, @cap-noodles, @livelifeauthorstyle, @thepaceperson, @moongoddesskiana, @vroomtaka, @laurcad123,  @prettylittlebutterflie

Chapter 2 - Chapter 4​

Chapter 3

Dick slumped down on a chair when they returned to the Belfry.  He ripped off his domino mask and let out a sigh. “Damn he’s good, then again he was taught by the best.” 

“Dick!” Barbara gave him a dirty look. They both looked towards their French guest to see her still lost in thought. 

Ladybug transformed back to Marinette, and then slowly walked over to get herself another cup of hot chocolate to cheer herself up. As she operated the multi hot drinks machine in the Belfry, she thought about how incredibly convenient the device was. Barbara and Dick mentioned that unless it was winter, no one else used it for hot chocolate. 

Hot chocolate dispensed from the machine, and as she picked up the paper cup, a shadow loomed over her. She was able to make out the silhouette of an imposing figure with demonic pointed ears. She squealed in shock, spilling her hot chocolate on the figure. 

Dick rolled off the chair laughing, “Oh, better fly away home Ladybug.” “How long have you been waiting to use that joke?” Barbara said without looking away from the screen.

“Since the moment I met her, Babs,” Dick retorted.

After the initial shock, Marinette was able to see the figure clearly and realised she just spilled hot chocolate on Batman. The Batman. Marinette paled at what she had done, she fumbled around looking for tissues. All the while apologising profusely as she tried to find anything to wipe the Caped Crusader clean from this chocolatey mess. Her mind ran at a mile a minute, thinking of what Batman would do to her for spilling hot chocolate on him. She thought of how Batman would squish her like a bug, or perhaps he would break all of her limbs, and send her on the first flight back to Paris while tied to the cargo hold. Her mind was catastrophizing and going into a full panic as she stumbled around the kitchenette. 

Marinette found a damp cloth and began wiping Batman vigorously from head to toe and hoping it would somehow lessen her punishment. She looked up to see that Batman continued to stare at her with his infamous glare. Seeing that her attempts to clean up her mess had no effect, she ran back towards the main room and grabbed Dick, holding him in front of her as a shield. 

Batman slowly followed, without saying a word he stomped into the main room and came to a halt right in front of Dick. “Uh, hi.” Dick awkwardly greeted Batman. Marinette shakingly peeked her head out from behind. 

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng, also known as Ladybug.” Batman’s low voice boomed with authority. “What are you doing here in Gotham?” 

Marinette yelped and went back to hiding behind Dick. Barbara interjected, “She’s here to investigate a recent use of the Lazarus Pit, mainly the Red Hood. From what we gather the creatures that give her power were also the ones who created the pits.” She explained on Marinette’s behalf. 

An uncomfortable silence hung in the room as Batman contemplated her answer. “Fine,” he relented. He turned and walked away. 

Marinette released a sigh of relief as she saw Batman leave. Dick took out his phone and began tapping on it, he just had to notify the rest of the Bat Family of what had just transpired. After a few moments he put his phone back in his pocket and walked away, “I’ll get a mop” he yelled back at Marinette and Barbara. 

Marinette then slumped on the dining table, hands in her head. Completely embarrassed at how she made a fool of herself in front of one of the world’s greatest heroes. Barbara calmly patted her back in consolation. After she calmed down and got herself another cup of hot chocolate, Marinette decided to head home.

On the way back to the apartment she shared with Zoe, she checked the messages that Zoe sent her during the past couple of days.  “Hey, are you okay?” The first one read.  “I haven’t seen you in the apartment for a while now,” she said, followed by a message that said “Please don’t be dead, I can’t afford rent by myself.” Marinette sent a quick reply saying, “I’m okay, I’ve just been busy taking care of some things.  See you tonight.” she said. When Marinette got home, she logged onto her computer to see a few messages from Alya, asking her of how she found Gotham City. Expressing worry for her friend, especially with the notoriety of Gotham's crime rate.

Marinette typed up "Hi Alya! Gotham is all right, I can take care of myself, you know that."

Alya decided to video call Marinette and her face appeared on screen. "Hey!" Alya waved her hand to her friend.

"Hi" Marinette gave a tired wave back.

"Everything okay?" Asked Alya.

"Fine, just tired from moving into the new place." She explained.

"By the way, could you open up a portal with Kaalki to my room?" asked Alya.

Marinette complied with her friend, as she put on the horse Miraculous and opened a portal. Soon a paper bag dropped from the ceiling and landed on the floor. "I had a feeling you might want something to cheer you up, I went to your parents' patisserie earlier."

Marinette opened up the bag to see several treats from the bakery.  She thanked her best friend profusely, and began eating them “How are things back in Paris?” Marinette asked, taking a macaron out of one of the boxes, she smiled as she took a bite out of it.  It was almost like she was 13 again, and her dad had given her a box of macarons for the first day of school.  

“Nothing we can’t handle,” Alya said, winking at her. “So, have you met any of Gotham’s vigilantes yet?” Marinette rubbed the back of her neck.  “Well, yeah,” she might as well tell her some of the things that happened.  “I accidentally spilled hot chocolate on Batman’s cape,” she confessed. “And you’re still alive?” Alya’s mouth hung open in shock. “Well, he does have a pretty strict ‘no killing’ policy,” Marinette told her. “Okay fair enough, how are you still in one piece?” Alya asked, still somewhat shocked.

“He just kinda glared at me, and I hid behind one of his sidekicks.” Marinette told her, “So, that’s how.” “Ah so you’ve met the sidekicks then,”  Alya gave her another knowing smile. “Some of them, Nightwing being one of them.” Marinette told her. “Did you get a good look at his assets?”  Alya gave her a wink, and Marinette rolled her eyes. “I’m pretty sure his assets were spoken for,” Marinette said, and before Alya could say anything more she quickly added “and no, I am not telling you who the lucky person is.” “You’re no fun.” Alya pouted mockingly, but she couldn’t stay angry at her friend.  Alya noticed the faraway look in Marinette’s eyes at that moment, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Marinette wondered how best to phrase it, “do you know anything about the Red Hood?” she asked.

Alya’s eyes widened in shock, “You’ve met him? Are you and Zoe living in his territory?”

“No, at least not that I know of, I just…” Marinette assured her, “Do you know anything about him?” “Give me a moment,” Alya said, quickly turning away to search for something on her laptop screen, “must have heard something about the guy…” she muttered.  Marinette never really told Alya about her soulmate bond, and she wasn’t about to start now.  “Says here he’s a crime lord that operates in Gotham City, that he took over Black Mask’s crime syndicate not too long ago…” Alya told her, “Pretty brutal to those who cross him, by the sound of things.” “Good to know,” Marinette muttered. “Marinette, are you sure you and Zoe are okay?” Alya asked. “We’re fine, just that Ladybug ran into him while working with Batman’s sidekicks.” Marinette told her. “I should have been there, it would have been a fun interview for Ladyblog.” Alya chuckled, and Marinette raised an eyebrow.  “I mean, after the fight of course, or maybe I should just stop talking.” “Try pitching the idea to Vicki Vale or Lois Lane, I’m sure they would jump at the chance.” Marinette joked.

"Just you wait until I get my Journalism degree, I'll bother you everyday for a scoop." Alya retorted. The two of them continued to laugh and joke with one another before Marinette went to bed.

The next morning, Marinette was woken by someone gently nudging her awake.  “Get dressed dummy, we’re going out.” she heard a voice say. Marinette looked up and blinked a few times before Zoe’s face came into view.  “What time is it?” Marinette groaned. “9am,” Zoe told her, “we are going to go out and get some breakfast together.” Marinette groaned in response, but slowly got out of bed.  Zoe leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms and smiling.  She chuckled slightly at the sight of Marinette’s tousled hair, Marinette smiled slightly in response.  “All right, all right, give me some time to get dressed.” she said and Zoe left, closing the door behind her. 

The two friends sat down to eat breakfast at a nearby diner, and Zoe began telling Marinette all the ways in which America was very different from France.  “First of all, they call the 24 hour clock ‘military time’, I never understood that.” she explained before taking a bite of her pancakes.  Americans made pancakes a lot thicker and fluffier compared to crepes, was another thing Marinette noticed.  “Oh, no more 2 hour lunch breaks, and as a French person, you will get made fun of for having more time off work than the Americans.” she said.  

As the two finished breakfast, Zoe paid the bill and left a tip. Marinette raised an eyebrow at Zoe for paying what was higher than the bill. “Marinette, remember, always tip whenever you go eat at a restaurant or a diner.” She explained. 

“Why? Isn’t there a service charge added? Don’t the servers get paid?” Marinette asked.

“Not at all.” Zoe deadpanned. 

“What?” Marinette exclaimed in shock, she quickly covered her mouth as eyes turned to face her for her outburst. 

 Zoe beckoned Marinette to follow her, “Come on, I’ll show you all the hotspots in Gotham City.”

 The two walked out onto the street and across several blocks.  Zoe stopped as the two reached their destination. She then pointed to an old gothic tower, “That there is the old Wayne Tower, creepy isn’t it? Built in 1888 by Cyrus Pinkey for the Waynes right at the heart of Gotham City. It’s been closed for a few years now, since Wayne Enterprise moved to the New Wayne Tower in the financial district.”

 Marinette’s eyes widened in recognition, it was where the Belfry was located. She remembered the gothic tower, but she had no idea it was the old Wayne Tower. She decided it would be best to keep quiet about this revelation. 

 The two continued sightseeing as they ventured into Robinson Park. “This park is amazing, the biggest park in the heart of Gotham. Also it's very close to Gotham U, I’d love to come here everyday after class to unwind.” Zoe explained. The two calmly walked across the park, enjoying the scenery and stopping by to feed some ducks.

 “Anyway I need to get some things on the way back,” the two then walked to a nearby grocery store and bought groceries. Being on a budget, Marinette eyed the price tags frugally, calculating how much it would cost her. Zoe smirked at Marinette, knowing what would come next when the two went to the cash register. Marinette was thrown into a loop as the total amount did not match the price tags. Marinette tried to ask for an explanation from the cashier, but they were not helpful. The cashier only said that it was tax, “Why isn’t tax included in the price tags?” she pleaded to the cashier.

The cashier gave Marinette a light shrug. “That's just the way things are.” 

Marinette pulled her pigtails in frustration as to why the final price doesn’t match the price tag. “Ok fine, what's the tax in America?”

Zoe took the chance to intervene and explain it to her friend. “It depends, it varies between states, counties and even cities.” 

Marinette banged her head against the counter in frustration. “Why? Why is it so crazy here?” 

Zoe and the cashier laughed at Marinette's antics. The cashier asked “You new here?” 

Marinette did not lift her head up, “How could you tell?” 

The two made their purchase and walked home, Marinette had to do a double take on the loaf of bread she bought. She stopped Zoem and said that they needed to go back to the grocery store for another loaf of bread, because this one had expired. Zoe snatched the loaf from Marinette’s hands and took another look. “Nope it's fine, remember America uses Month/Day/Year here.” Zoe explained. Marinette’s eye twitched as the two walked back to their apartment. 

The semester began the following Monday at Gotham University. As a Fashion & Design student, Marinette had long studio classes which usually kept her busy during the day.  She would have to spend even longer hours in the studio if she had a project due.  When Zoe wasn’t attending lectures, she had a part-time job that kept her busy as well.  So Marinette didn’t see much of her by the time she managed to return to their apartment.

Over the course of the next few days, she would go to her classes by day and go out every night to search for her soulmate. However, the Red Hood had proved to be elusive, always alert to the movement of the red thread that tied them together.  Marinette found that the thread changed wildly.  Some nights she stopped by the Belfry, exhausted and dejected. Barbara had noticed this and decided that she had to know about Jason, it might change her mind or it might not. She deserved to know if she was going to go looking for him every night.

One night when she entered the Belfry, Barbara gestured to Marinette, “Come over and pull up a chair.” Marinette followed and brought a chair to the computer. The two sat side by side, “Mari, you deserve to know more about Jason...the Red Hood.”

Marinette’s eyes widened at the mention of her soulmate, “Please tell me more about him.” she begged.

“Marinette, I’m sorry, we knew more about him but we didn’t tell you.” Barbara apologised.

Marinette was hurt at how they were withholding information about her soulmate from her. “Why?” was all that she was able to say.

Barbara took a deep breath, “Because Jason was the second Robin.” 

Marinette’s jaw dropped at this bombshell, her soulmate used to be Robin. It would explain the skills he displayed out in their last encounter. Marinette wondered how tough his life was, how he suffered at the hands of the criminals of Gotham at such a young age. Some of the things he said back at the dockyards were now sounding like they came from experience.  “What was he like?” she asked, wanting to know what her soulmate was like before his death. 

“Angry, rebellious, Jason always felt like it was him against the world. He was caught trying to steal the wheels off the Batmobile, that's how Batman found him and brought him in.” Barbara explained. 

“How did he die?” Marinette asked.

Barbara grew silent at the mention of Jason’s death. “He tried to pursue the Joker, but it was a trap. The Joker caught him, tortured him for god knows how long. I saw his bruises, it-it was as if he was beaten over and over again with a crowbar.” Marinette covered her mouth and her eyes welled with tears as she heard the gruesome details of her soulmate's unfortunate end. 

“To make matters worse, he locked Jason in the room with a bomb.” “What about the Red Hood?” she asked. “We...we buried a mannequin in a wig,” Barbara explained, “the real body was taken by the League of Assassins, trying to make up for what happened.”

Marinette stood up and rushed to the guest room, she had heard enough.  She could not imagine the pain and suffering her soulmate had been through his entire life.

Jason had been constantly on the move, knowing that his soulmate was out looking for him.  He tried to shut off the part of him that wanted to get close.  He was honestly surprised the Bat clan hadn't told her every horrific story they had about him.  Either they didn't know they were soulmates or she was knowingly walking head first into the lion's mouth.  If she didn't find him, then she might stumble upon a group of his men at work, and they might be a lot less forgiving.   If he was constantly checking over his shoulder, making sure the girl wasn't close by, things were bound to start slipping through the cracks.  

He himself had various safehouses scattered around the city, but he couldn't keep running forever.   It was getting ridiculous, he had faced crime lords, assassins and even gone toe-to-toe with Batman multiple times.  Yet here he was, running and hiding from a girl who was about a foot shorter than he was.  He knew why, of course, he wasn't afraid of her but she should be very afraid of him.  He had hoped that she would give up the search, as she drew closer and closer to finding out the truth about what happened to him.  But life had never been that easy for Jason, and sooner or later she was going to get too close to the untamed monster beneath.  If she got hurt because of him, he wouldn't be able to forgive himself.  Not even his old self could forgive that.  He would have no trouble protecting her from other criminals, not that she really needed it.  However, whatever came crawling out of the pits was something else.

After putting a swift end to some people who were causing trouble in his territory,  his mind wandered back to Ladybug.  Specifically, the sad look in her eyes when he explained how brutal and unforgiving Gotham could be.  He tried not to think about it, because that look made him want to hold her close, and reassure her that everything would be okay.  Thoughts of how the idea of her gave him hope all those years ago would come bubbling to the surface.  It made him want to protect her, to ensure that this world wouldn’t hurt her the way it hurt him.  When she looked at him with those eyes, it made him want to believe that she trusted him to do just that.  He shook his head, and told himself that what he was also the very thing she needed protecting from.  

Most nights Jason had nightmares about failing to save her.  There were even nightmares where she died by his hands.  Her blue eyes would become lifeless and vacant, her skin would feel ice cold, and he would end up cradling her limp form in his arms.  Batman would just love it if those nightmares came true.  It would only prove to him that Jason was nothing more than an unhinged monster he couldn’t cage.  It wasn’t as though the Bat had much luck caging the real monsters in Gotham anyhow.  Most days, Jason’s skin crawled as he remembered the feeling of the Lazarus pit’s waters.  The creatures she was palling around with were the ones who made it. They probably didn’t give a damn about the evil they had inflicted on the world because of it.   For all he knew, being around her little fairy friends would make the effects much worse.  Still, when he snapped back to reality, he would see the string glowing red, just as it had always done.  Occasionally moving and twitching as his soulmate searched high and low for him. Maybe the time had come to have a little talk, soulmate to soulmate...

#maribat #jasonette #ml x dc

[wordsnwhiskey]

As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies

Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales

Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.

Rating: M

Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.

A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.

I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!

Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art

The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.

“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.

“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.

Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.

“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”

Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.

Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.

“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”

Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.

“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”

Frankie winced.

“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.

Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.

“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”

Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.

“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.

“Hey Jack?”

Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.

“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”

Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.

“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”

Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.

You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.

“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”

“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”

He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.

“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”

Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.

“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”

To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.

“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”

You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.

“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”

“Gracias, hermano.”

They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.

“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”

“Yes sir, thanks.”

Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.

“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”

Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.

“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”

Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.

“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”

Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.

“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”

Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.

“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”

Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.

“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”

Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.

“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”

You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”

“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.

With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.

“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”

Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.

You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.

“Missed you, darlin’.”

Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.

“Missed you too, Jack.”

You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.

“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”

You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.

“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.

“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.

Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.

“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.

“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”

Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.

“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”

He groaned and shook his head.

“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”

Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.

“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”

Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.

The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.

“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”

You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.

“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”

The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.

“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”

Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.

“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]

It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.

Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.

“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”

You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.

“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”

At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.

“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”

Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.

“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”

Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.

“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.

Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.

You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.

“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”

The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.

“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”

Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.

“I thought we were going to go shoot?”

Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.

“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”

Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.

“No lasso.”

Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.

Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.

Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.

“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”

Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.

A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.

“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”

He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.

“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.

This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.

“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”

Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.

“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”

You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.

“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”

Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”

You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.

“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”

Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.

From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.

Five guards, five bullets.

Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.

“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]

You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.

“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.

Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.

“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”

He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.

“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”

A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.

“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”

Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.

“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”

“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”

Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.

“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”

Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.

“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”

Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.

Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.

You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.

Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.

“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”

The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.

“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”

“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.

“Cocky kid had it coming.”

There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.

“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”

Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.

Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.

Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.

The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.

You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.

“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”

“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”

Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.

“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”

You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.

“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.

“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”

A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.

Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.

“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”

Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.

“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”

Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.

“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”

Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.

“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”

Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.

“I understand, s-sounds good.”

“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”

Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.

[click for better quality]

A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.

“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”

Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.

“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”

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[thedeviljudges]

yohan + physical tough + trauma response

disclaimer: this is based off of eps 1-7, and preview of ep 8; i wholeheartedly recognize that this post may become the worst meta ever depending on how the rest of the show goes. however, i do think there are still some interesting things to note about yohan. a lot of this is also me just talking shit out as i was sifting through all the eps again. i’m more than willing to change my mind or hear other thoughts.

also i kinda, sorta, unnecessarily included all of the moments of yohan and any physicality. a lot of them are not super important, but i do think they help draw a distinction in how he reactions when surprised, alone and around other people.

so, here’s a long ass post that is literally 99% me bullshitting, lmao.

so i wanted to delve more into yohan’s response to physical touch by way of trauma. while i know a lot of us have pieced it together, i think it’s pretty cool to lay it all out visually because i think there’s much more justification for his reactions; not to say it makes it right, but it does really flesh out a fundamental part of his characterization that i think is highly, highly important to understand.

yohan lives on the cusp for reckless behavior, almost as if he doesn’t care whether he lives or dies. the car chase, running through industrial buildings where safety isn’t a concern, etc.

episode one

the first time we see an instance of his disinterest in physical touch is when he first meets gaon. he actually offers him his hand, but the way he goes about it isn’t a handshake. he almost looks hesitant, and then he squeezes and does not shake. it’s truly a split second gesture out of formalities. granted, he’s just met someone he thinks looks like isaac, and might be in a little bit of… not shock, but certainly distracted.

later in the episode, yohan is in an abandoned building with homeless people. he’s checking people’s wrist, but he’s quick about leaving them alone. until, a homeless man comes up behind him and grabs him. in response, yohan swings his arm to knock him off. then, he punches him, steps on him and decides whether he’s worth the effort. again, granted, no one likes to be surprised in a creepy situation like this, so his response? kinda understandable at this point.

next is the scene where yohan catches gaon in his office, where he pushes him against the bookshelf and kinda, more or less, comes off as a bit luring. we know yohan knows gaon’s lying, but a couple of things here. yohan initiated the physical contact, and he did it because of the suspicious nature of gaon. yohan also knows how to use his power and charms to catch people off guard, and i think really, he was messing with gaon when he brushed his shirt and asked him if he lived alone. gay as fuck, lmao, but i also see it as an intimidation tactic, in a way.

i could also pose a couple of theories aside from intimidation if we wanted to squint:

yohan is still in a state of awe of gaon’s resemblance to isaac. he’s not heard his voice or been around the other man for at least 10 years, and now there’s tangibility at his fingertips.

if we want to look at it from the gay perspective, gaon is clearly intriguing to yohan, and as i’ll note further down in this post about yohan in relation to physical touch, i’m sure it could be assumed that this is one of the first people in a long time that yohan has an interest in making a connection with. however, because of his upbringing, it’s clear he does’t necessarily know how to connect with people (ie. ep 7 trying to connect with elijah, eps 1-6 with him trying to non-verbally tell gaon that he has bigger plans than what’s in front of his face. his admission in ep 5 about being monster). more or less, he knows his charms can be used, but when it comes to actually flirting and/or liking someone? it’s left to be addressed, but could be assumed he’s just as awkward about it as when we see him at home.

we also see a small instance of him letting someone dress him. there’s still touch involved, but it’s very clear what the intention is. he has control over the situation, and it’s not a surprise.

the next time he engages in physical touche, again, he initiates it because he’s in control, and it’s meant to be comforting, to an extent.

and then to round everything off, we actually see him reaching for isaac, who is actually gaon in the court scene, but you know storytelling and all that. he reaches for him both in the courtroom and within a flashback.

him reaching out for isaac seems to be a motif within the show as it happens later on, of which i’ll point out.

episode two

we see him initiate a handshake again. at first, to gaon, and then with jinjoo. controlled situation.

later on in the episode is when we see our first glimpses of batshit crazy yohan, an absolute delight and fav, lmao. he actually reaches out to the spoiled kid, and it’s clearly to legitimize intimidation and a position of power.

okay look, i’m not even gonna front, this was a cute scene. when jinjoo gets out of the car, he checks to make sure she’s okay, and they have this moment before they go onto the red carpet where they smile at each other. yohan is confirming she’s okay, and she agrees. again, controlled, and i don’t know for certain if yohan is more comfortable around women, or it’s just mere fact that he doesn’t always have a problem with touch when the situation is safe. he actually lets her take his arm further on in the scene, and yes, it is a public display of niceties, and he knows that.

so in the midst of this happening, we get the ‘devil child’ story. and i want to make note of the bird scene because i do think it’s important to note that people yohan cares for, he’s willing to go to the ends of the earth to protect them. yes, they’re children in school, but the girl next to him is the only one who showed him an ounce of kindness, and yohan is proven to remain loyal to those he loves or trusts in some capacity.

of course, he ends up pitting the rich and the poor kids against one another for their betrayal and making him an outcast. in yohan’s mind, what he did wasn’t necessarily wrong because his sense of justice is based on protection and when people wrong him or those he loves, it’s seeking justice on their behalf or making the situation better - not in the technically right way, but right to him. yohan comes across as a fixer and problem solver.

yohan has a very, very strong sense of trust and loyalty, and we can assume that stems from isaac, who clearly tried to protect yohan from his father, who went out of his way to do so as best as he could as a young kid. yohan values loyalty not because he necessarily wants lap dogs and people to do his bidding. it comes from a place of love and security he’s never really had.

anyway, back to the gala with jinjoo, he does shake the minister’s hand. again, controlled. there are cameras. he also puts his arm around her, and that’s mainly because it’s a battle of the wills, and she’s trying to reprimand him, lol, as if she could. he hugs her a little hard and a little enthusiastically, and you can clearly tell it’s for show.

and then he dances with both jinjoo and sunah. and there is a stark difference between these two scenes. yohan actually teaches jinjoo the proper placement for where she should rest her hands and how to move. he’s actually having a good time with her, and again, it’s actually really cute.

with sunah, he’s reluctant and definitely on guard. he can tell from her demeanor that her intent is with purpose trying to get close to him. at this point in the story, he probably sees it as sunah coming onto him and not because she’s actually the maid from when they were children. when sunah reaches up to whisper in his ear, you can really tell he doesn’t like her being that close to him at all especially because her words may not be overly threatening, but there is purpose behind them, which means yohan’s guards are up. he physically removes her hand and than blatantly turns her down: she tells him that enjoying things alone isn’t fun, and he counters it by saying he’s having a lot of fun.

so at this point to reduce on some screen caps, he meets the minister’s family, has handshakes with her husband and the kid he went after to essentially beat up his car with a mallet, lmao. the handshake is quite funny because they both know what happened. yohan is in control, and that kid is shaking in his boots.

then the explosion happens, and of course, it makes sense that yohan helps gaon after he’s hurt. gaon has never been a threat to yohan, and it’s clear yohan’s not heartless whatsoever, but it’s also poignant to note that gaon helped saved yohan’s life, thus starting yohan’s journey of loyalty to gaon. i think he’s always had his sight set on gaon to begin with, possibly long before he even became an associate judge, but if this was a test, gaon passed it with flying colors because if gaon can rescue a little girl, and he can help an old man who fell off his bike, would he really go the lengths to save yohan who has shown him time and time again his sense of justice is different?

episode three

yohan reacts negatively to soohyun and within good reason when she questions where gaon is. he turns away because for him, the conversation is over, but for her, it’s not. to get his attention, she grabs him when he’s not paying attention, and of course he has a very adverse reaction. at this point, it can be chalked up to disrespect given the fact that he’s a head judge and she’s just a mere cop, but hindsight is 20/20. he does throw her arm off by flicking out his arm. but instead of berating her, he just tells her to catch the culprits who harmed gaon and leaves it at that.

and then of course, everyone’s favorite scene and rightfully so. yohan caring for gaon? very sexy of him. gaon is injured, poses no threat, and as i said above about yohan finding some amount of loyalty in gaon means his physical boundaries aren’t jeopardized. and for that, we get these wonderful scenes of yohan helping gaon as he heals.

and then scenes of him messing around with gaon by hitting him. truth be told, i wonder if this was something him and isaac did as young kids. anyone with siblings know how that goes. fake picking on each other? fake bickering? yeah.

and then it slowly, but surely, it’s revealed that yohan didn’t have the same upbringing as isaac did. our first instance that something at home wasn’t right wasn’t just the conversation with ms. ji and gaon. it’s the flashback with yohan reading in his room when the door opens. he hastily pretends he’s asleep, and you can see he’s visibly shaking and breathing roughly until he realizes it’s isaac who’s there to give him books.

and that’s also when we get our first glance of what kind of abuse yohan suffered from at the hands of his father. it’s clear this isn’t the only incident, and there’s been many times that isaac wasn’t around to help defend him.

it’s also very clear in how yohan acts when he’s terrified and that his abuse has gone on long enough to be a routine pattern in the house. any time he hears heavy footsteps or thinks his father is around, he visibly shakes and gets panicky.

episode four

i include this scene because it’s been noted that a lot of books yohan reads are about humans, human nature, animals, animalistic tendencies, and he says random shit like this that directly points to what he thinks about humanity and humans themselves. we notice this most prominently at the dinner with gaon and jinjoo earlier on when he describes that he likes the feel of the chew and that he cannot taste. he always mentions hunting and prey, and i think this is one of those very clear instances where he actually reveals to gaon what he truly, truly thinks; no gimmicks. this also comes into play later on in ep 6 when elijah is worried about him being out all night. yohan clearly doesn’t trust people at all. he understands their intentions, their motives and how much pain they can cause other people for their own profit and their own gain. it makes sense that he wouldn’t leave his house, especially if he has a strong sense of loyalty to isaac (even after all these years) and caring for elijah.

this is also one of the very direct moments that yohan doesn’t understand family dynamics. when it comes to people, it’s a giant chess game. not only that, later on in the episode when they’re in the car and yohan talks about how people, no matter what, are always the same in front of greed, yohan is cynical, and he expects the bad every single time.

what he reads and the way he words things (here and the discussion of him being a monster, for example) is clearly an indication that he doesn’t trust; that he cannot trust, nor does he want to at this point. yohan doesn’t understand the concept of kindness being given freely (ep 7 when he berates elijah for being used by gaon, telling her she falls for kindness every time). and yet, later on in eps, it’s clear when he’s around the right people and the right mindset (uh, gaon?? lol), he’s constantly putting up a front.

after all in ep 7 when he tells gaon that confidence is key, it literally gives him away not just in the courtroom but in his personal life. there’s a reason he looks softer at home than when he’s not there (the hairstyle changes and clothing).

basically what i’m getting at is this behavior can be seen as a defense mechanism because of his abuse.

then it’s another gala event with gaon and yohan this time. another lovely favorite where yohan helps him get dressed and then proceeds to drag him around and safe him from the lion’s den.

tbh i dont even need to include these, but i’m doing it for the indulgence.

yohan does sorta physically throw gaon as well during the rich people party, but that’s mainly to get him to shut up because he’s trying to show gaon the truth at hand and how all of it’s pretty much a farce.

later on in the episode is when we first have gaon truly attacking yohan verbally, and that’s when yohan snaps. it’s clear that isaac is a trigger for yohan, especially from someone who speaks out of line on something they know nothing about. gaon, truth be told, had a stupid moment confronting yohan the way he did. i don’t know who waltzes up to a proposed murderer and just asks them, lmao.

but here’s the thing, thus far, gaon has not entirely posed a threat to yohan. whether that’s from yohan planting gaon and guiding him exactly where he wants him or gaon just not being as thorough as yohan would like, and he’s trying to tap into that talent, is anyone’s guess. but as i said above, the one thing yohan protects is the things he does care about the most, and he tries to talk himself out of his own feelings. he constantly compares himself to an animal (again, dinner scene with gaon and jinjoo) to justify his actions, and to possibly not feel anything; because that’s easier, isn’t it? not feeling. so on top of gaon calling him a monster and a killer, confronted with the possibility about being a villain in his own brother’s story, obviously sets him off. he beats down his emotions until he’s confronted with it - and this is what gaon also meant in ep 6 about how it’s ridiculous that yohan calls himself a monster over a victim because yohan can’t even see himself in that light. not because he truly believes victims are weak necessarily, but i wonder how much he realizes that what happened to him wasn’t his fault.

to me, and as i just said, yohan convinces himself he’s a monster to make it easier for himself to belief his actions (ep 5 telling gaon some humans are born monsters in relation to himself). it’s not that he inherently thinks he’s wrong, but i think his guidance for what’s right and wrong was misconstrued without a parent figure in his life, especially if he’d read crime and law books as the focus. yohan’s actions, at least quite a bit of them are, are based on a gut feeling of right and wrong. when you think about it and your own sense of justice, how would that differ without the checks and balances in place? what punishment do you think fits the crime if we weren’t bound by written law? yohan thinks any action to protect those he loves is, more or less, justifiable because it’s a means to an end. it’s making a worng right again.

i don’t think yohan is a monster. i think his feelings, and what he knows is love, is misconstrued in terms of how to express it. we see this in episode 7 with his and elijah’s conversation where she’s just trying to be a teen, but his version of love is protecting her without, once again, understanding family dynamics and the pain points of growing up, the learning she has to do on her own. yohan might technically be right; similar to being book-smart but not necessarily street smart. his theory of telling Elijah that she’s soft for kindness and being used was true, but his delivery and the idea that that’s how humans develop doesn’t work. he’s telling her text-book rules, but people don’t live through books. they live through real life. yohan reads to get a sense of fulfillment and to learn. he’s learned his way into adulthood, but that’s not normal.

so uh anyway, back to this familiar scene:

because we don’t know the actual story of isaac’s death, it’s hard to say what role yohan played in his death, but i don’t know that i believe he was the one who did it. the entirety of the devil judge is relying on unreliable narration, so it’s difficult to gauge (for now since we’re on ep 7) how this will turn out and what happened, but to me, it really comes across as yohan upset over the insinuation that he could be the one to cause the death of the one person he loved the most. plus, i think it says a lot that he cares/loves elijah, and she was part of isaac. gaon crossed a thine line. yohan essentially welcomed him in, and this is gaon toeing it. we can also look at this is not gaon being an outsider to their family, but now has become part of the family, and so it’s easier for yohan to be ‘abusive,’ if you will, rather than the perspective of gaon still on the sidelines and pushing too far. by this i mean, the accusations made by gaon threatens their formulating family dynamics.

and once again, the only person he ever actually reaches out for is isaac.

and then we have the aftermath of yohan’s nightmare, where he’s still caught in the dream as gaon comes in, and refuses to be touched after, even if gaon’s intention is to see if he’s okay. yohan makes it very clear to gaon not to touch him, and that’s when elijah comes in with a very accusatory ‘what are you two doing?’ in this moment, yohan is not just vulnerable, but he’s emotionally sensitive. i’ve no doubt he’s still dealing with a form of sensory overload from his dream.

and then, i don’t know that this was necessary? was it necessary?

the following set of scenes are the ones where gaon tells him he’s a victim and he hasn’t confronted his own emotions about his abuse. i think yohan realizes gaon is right to some degree, but it is convoluted, and it’s not so simple to face your own traumas. however, he does for a moment after gaon leaves, remember another instance of abuse he couldn’t stop but wishes he could, wishing a parental figure of sorts would’ve come in to save him like his older self is trying to save the kid version if only he could turn back time, if only he had the power to do what he wish someone else had done for him.

and then the kidnapping scene is just. fucked up in and of itself. it actually makes my skin crawl. not because sunah is scary necessarily, but the lack of autonomy yohan has - especially when we find out later more of sunah’s story. to do something like this after what she’s suffered through makes this scene even more disturbing.

you can see the moment yohan hears heels when sunah (not knowing it’s her yet) comes in. literally the minute he knows someone’s headed his way, he checks the fuck out. his whole face goes slack, especially when sunah reveals herself. and when she’s kissing him? blank as fuck, too. it’s the most dead-eyed stare i think we’ve seen from him.

episode six

so, we get this gem from elijah that i’d like to touch on later. it’s more speculation and just me running through ideas more than it is canon fact. but what it does let us know is that yohan doesn’t seek people out. he prefers to be at home and staying there.

after we get the maid story, and we do get yohan touching sunah’s cheek, and in some fucked up twisted way, this is his way of protecting one of the things isaac cherishes the most. the point of the gesture isn’t just intimidation but serves as an act of intent, of protection in the only way yohan knows how. he’s safeguarding isaac. you can tell he doesn’t actually like sunah at all as a kid, but uses that to his advantage. imagine yohan learning violence for ‘good’ things when his father used violence for ‘bad’ things. what a twisted way of looking at it? and the irony at hand.

additionally, the main reason i’ve included so many varying scenes of yohan touching people isn’t to establish that he’s okay with being touched given how many scenes there are of him randomly shaking people’s hand or touching them. it’s all about context and what the intent is for. most often than not, really way more often than not, yohan only reaches out for people when it’s socially acceptable to do so and because it’s manners. and yet, even in some of those cases, there is still intent behind the gesture.

the moments he acts out the most are when he’s not in front of an audience, when he’s more likely to be alone with his thoughts and is exceptionally more vulnerable to his own triggers.

and i think the scene after he’s back at his house from the kidnapping is noteworthy because it doesn’t just feel like he’s shaking off the effects of the drugs he was given. he seems to visibly trying to compose himself of the mental and physical play he just had to deal with.

the next scene is yohan angry with gaon for taking elijah out. which really, he does have every right to be angry, and one thing i didn’t note above during the ‘you killed your brother’ choke out scene before is that when yohan is backed into any kind of corner, he reacts like a caged animal.

because we’ve already established the scenes with his abuse, his father took his anger physically out on yohan. so how else was yohan supposed have developed the tools to express it? it’s easy to hurt the things you love the most; it’s easy to abuse the ones you know, and between gaon and himself, they both have an unhealthy dynamic because gaon is old enough, strong enough to take whatever yohan gives him. gaon is not family and so there’s still that clear divide and a distinction as to why he lays a hand on gaon but not elijah, for example. gaon can still pose a threat. elijah is family. then again, it can also be said that maybe yohan considers gaon family, and gaon betrayed elijah and therefore yohan, and you don’t do that. not with yohan’s understanding of family dynamics.

but with that said, it begs the question why yohan keeps gaon around, and i think some of that has to do with the fact that gaon surprises yohan. he might’ve set his sights on him long before he became an associate judge or maybe he took interest after gaon was chosen for the role (this is still up in the air), but deep down, yohan sees something in gaon despite his snooping, despite his righteousness. it could be the potential; it could be the fact that gaon could be better than yohan if he just allowed himself to loosen the ropes he’s tied himself with when it comes to the court of law and the justice system.

but here’s the thing that idk a lot of people have really picked up on. gaon is one side of the same coin underneath it all. he’s also provoked yohan with physicality when yohan brought up details about soohyun.

to be fair, we can say that yohan evokes a different type of anger in gaon, one that he hasn’t tapped into for years that allows him to open up to that more physical side of himself he learned to put behind him. gaon doesn’t really come across as the physically threatening type, but yohan does push his buttons and vice versa.

but then, of course, we have the big fight scene where gaon goes in on the attack, and that’s when yohan makes his threat not to attack him ever again. it’d be easy to say he says it based on the merit of him not actually attacking soohyun, but seriously speaking, the intent feels much more than that. more along the lines of asking gaon not to provoke him without warning again because next time might be bad. most of their other fights, especially the one above,have been in the midst of conversation. this time, it’s from a place of complete surprise, and you can tell yohan goes on the defensive when his first instinct is to not just throw gaon back but raise his fist to strike.

episode seven

the only physical contact yohan has with anyone is the president, and that’s when he turns on the live video of the two of them, and it’s clearly intended to be a lowkey threat. he keeps pulling the president back into his side to be on the live camera after the dude tried to come after yohan. i do think it’s hilarious that yohan manipulated the situation with a live component just as the president and the rest of the rich people thought they could turn a live court show into manipulating the public.

and then, of course, the jail scene. the part where he makes gaon stay. he also touches gaon’s shoulder later just before they leave.

episode eight

the most prominent scene in this ep is certainly the scene where sunah comes onto yohan, and you can tell she did it to get under his skin in some way. of course, he’s smart and knows she’s up to something, but i think it’s so interesting how he wraps his fists around hers, almost as if to tame her and prevent her from trying to further put her hands on him.

we also know yohan has no issue with using physical force regardless of who it is (obviously, his dialogue in this scene, too) when he feels caged or trapped. his intention is also to retrieve isaac’s necklace, and i like how he uses literally anything to his advantage. meaning, he’ll use physical touch, his mentality, etc to get what he wants or needs, even if it is marginally uncomfortable to some degree.

and i think that also says alot about him is that he’s able to displace what makes him uncomfortable in moments like this to achieve an end goal.

additional thoughts

i know this isn’t really common with a lot of the characters in general, and could be chalked up to a cultural component, but yohan’s definitely not a hugger.

the other thing i wanted to note is yohan’s seemingly adherence to touch unless it’s for good reason in relation to sex. the main reason i bring it up is because i’ve seen it discussed a bit, especially in regard to elijah’s comment about him not staying out overnight since the fire. there are a few plausible scenarios, maybe more, but for the sake of this, we’ll go for these.

yohan has had past relationships/experience or will in future episodes

day flings

he’s never had an interest in anyone before given his upbringing and abuse and therefore never sought out sex

inexperience could be from lack of interest in other people and sex itself

he’s never found anyone to really connect with and trust in such a way and has avoided it for that reason

and i bring this up mainly because i think it could be something to explore in fanon, but also because i’m kind of annoyed with how people have been talking about yohan being a virgin. i’m not quite sure what the joke is, but lack of sexual experience does not mean naive or that he doesn’t have a sense of humor when that’s clearly far from the truth:

i don’t know that people find it unbelievable because of his age, because of characterization of yohan being more dominant, but none of these things negate this being an option. i think it’s perfectly plausible of a situation (from what we know right now), and truthfully, it would make a whole lot of sense. i just don’t get the jokes about it that i’ve been seeing online (twitter) when there isn’t a mutual exclusiveness to any of it whatsoever.

yohan already has a hard time connecting with people, and i can imagine that level of physicality could be difficult. clearly he knows how to use a version of it to get what he wants. i’ve no doubt he’s used his charms in situations where he’s needed to. yohan knows he has that going for him, at the very least. but sexual appeal and jokes doesn’t mean having a body count any more than it could indicate there being one.

lastly, i also want to pull these paragraphs from @b612sunsets​‘s post because i think they do a much better job than i ever could of explaining, short and sweet, a fundamental part of yohan’s characterization, and mainly what i was trying to get at with this long ass post.

“There's two things we already know about Yohan from the last 6 episodes: he hates being touched when he doesn't see it coming and doesn't have control over it because of the abuse he suffered (I assume). To name a few: Soohyun grabbing his elbow to stop him from leaving and get answers about Gaon, the beggar that touched him while he searched for the fireman, Gaon after punching him and Yohan clearly telling him to NEVER do it again. The impression it gave to us is that if there's a next time he might not be able to stop his instinctive reaction of defending himself and using violence back (something worse than choking or pushing Gaon and he doesn't want to do that with him).

“Unless it's a friendly/small/slow touch like in the breakfast scene when Gaon touches his arm when he gets up to offer them some fruits. When he had the nightmare with Isaac, his walls were up high so even if he could see Gaon's touch coming and it was friendly, he decided to stop it because he was too defensive and sensible to accept the gesture (it would be the first time Gaon started physical contact with him too, he wouldn't be ready for that in such a state).

“The second thing is that Yohan hates when people take what is his or mess with what is important to him. Again, to name a few: Sunah with the necklace when she was a maid, the fireman with Isaac's watch (Yohan made them fall from high places, not caring if they died or not), the guy that fabricated the small bombs that hurt Gaon (Yohan would have burnt his face if "K" hadn't stopped him) and Gaon taking Elijah out of the house to Soohyun without previous notice (a cop and someone he doesn't trust).”

yohan has a very, very large sense of self-preservation for himself and for those he cares about. it’s in his intention, actions, facial expressions, movements, the way he interacts with people. i find it fascinating how calculating he can be, but at home, he’s at his most vulnerable and almost socially unaware and awkward.

yohan is a bit of an irony. he understands people from an action-oriented, instinctual level, but he doesn’t necessarily understand their thoughts and emotions in the waves of nuances that people live through on the daily. like, he gets it to an extent and on a practical level, but he himself is a square trying to fit into a circle - he doesn’t always understand it for himself and has to actively work on social cues so as not to come across as the devil child he was once painted to be.

and let it not be unsaid, yohan really will go to the ends of the earth for family, even if it means stepping out of his comfort zone.

and so anyway, i doubt this offered any real insight, but i think this is my way of breaking all of this down for myself. so, tada!!! lmao

#x #the devil judge #the devil judge meta #* #*the devil judge

[ktheist]

01 — show me yours & i’ll show you mine | m

“then won’t you fuck me right now? i’m already wet for you.”

“not tonight,”

➙ muses. seokjin x college student / gamer!reader ft. best friend! taehyung

➙ genre. best friend’s brother au. university au. working au. fwb au. 

➙ word. 5k

➙ warnings. explicit content, reader coming onto seokjin who’s still hung up about how he watched over her and his little brother, taehyung, all these years, they’re six years apart, fingering, rimming.

➙ index. 01 | 02 | 03 | 04 | 05 | 06 | finale | side story 1 |

➙ synopsis. you’re a horny bunny yet kim seokjin always seems to manage to slide out of your grasps like a fox every time.

follow these two as they embark on a sexual adventure whilst keeping their relationship on the low from kim taehyung who may or may not just pull out the (your) best friend and (seokjin’s) brother card to call a time-off on them for good.

➙ note. if you’re used to reading my fics, this one is a little different. it focuses less on healing and more on getting it on w your best friend’s brother ykwim.

also, if you’re not okay with the age gap or the nature of their dynamic, keep it to yourself. block and don’t engage. much love x

x

“i watched you grow up!” seokjin shouts right in your face as he leans so far back against the counter, you thought his back would break.

“exactly,” a suggestive smirk curls on your lips as you lean your breasts against him, making sure the angle allows him to have an eyeful of your voluptuous slopes, “i’m grown now.”

but your words seem to have snapped him out of your wonderful spell, eyes going round with realization, “you’re nineteen!”

“and,” your finger teasingly travel up from his chest and a few inches above dip of his collarbone where the protrusion of his adam’s apple dips and stops at, “legal.”

“taehyung will kill me,” he reasons, large, secure hand wrapping around your wrist before he holds it away from his throat.

“only if he knows,” your free hand caresses the noticeable protrusion in his pants that’s pressing deliciously against your stomach.

seokjin’s mouth opens and closes twice but no words come out. and he’s not exactly making any moves to hold your teasing hand away from his boner.

“please, seokjin?” with a voice as sweet as angel’s and a tilt of head just in the right angle, you give him your best puppy eye, “i can’t take it anymore, after i saw how hung you were last month when i accidentally walked in on you in the bathroom... you’re all i think about - and you weren’t even hard back then!” you giggle when his hand finally captures yours when you try to pull down the zipper of his pants.

seokjin’s lush lips glisten from his tongue swiping out to wet them - you may not have spent as much time with him than with his brother but you know that whenever he does that little tongue thing and seem to stare off into nothing in particular - it’s because he’s heavily considering the possibility of delving into whatever that had his head occupied.

but before he can even say a word, the sound of keys jiggling from the other side of the door echoes into the space where you’d trapped him, in the middle of twirling around with a newly filled glass of water. you’d easily took the glass out of his hand, noting the way he arched a brow but silently watched as you placed it on the counter next to him before you boxed him between you and the counter.

“...that’s why i’m telling you! we need more cheese!” taehyung walks in with two bags of groceries, head craned towards his elder brother and middle child of the kims - namjoon who only shakes his head at the younger boy’s antics.

“we already bought three packets of cheese,” by the time namjoon’s pointing out the unbelievable bought, you’re already helping taehyung get the backs off his hands and placing them on the counter across where seokjin stands, front facing the counter, boner hidden underneath and hand gripping the poor glass until his knuckles turn white.

“oh my god, spicy carbonara ramen!” you squeal, finding out the signature light pink packet before setting that aside - you don’t trust anyone in this house to not steal your food unless you keep it safe in your room.

“you’re too obsessed with that thing,” taehyung asserts from next to you, sitting on one of the stools, eating out of the bag of cheese-flavored chips.

“uh-huh, maybe if seokjin or namjoon says that, i’d take it more seriously,” you don’t miss the way the eldest brother’s eyes sweeps up to you in an automatic response to his name.

to anyone else, your smile would look as if you’re sharing the same humor for teasing taehyung.

“uh, i’m like the boss of moderation,” taehyung waves a dismissive hand.

“the three packets of cheese in the fridge disagrees,” you twirl around, stealing the bag out of his grasp and leaning against the counter as you place one chip into your mouth.

you notice seokjin padding towards the hallway where the rooms are and somewhere at the end, lies the infamous bathroom you speak of that changed your life forever.

x

the kims and your family have known each other for years. having been next door neighbors, it’s almost inevitable that you’d be best friends with the same-age, truck toy-wielding boy. your parents didn’t need to worry when they didn’t find you in your room - they could just ring up the kims’ and ask if their daughter were over without telling them which, most of the time, was the case.

you didn’t get to hang out at school because you went to an all-girls school and taehyung and his brothers went to a co-ed school. seokjin was the kinder but still fun to hang out with brother but wasn’t around most times. he was already in high school when you were in elementary - had his own set of friends, joined robotics for the entirety of his high school career which made him immesurably busy. namjoon’s alright but he’s more quiet and also somehow managed to get you and taehyung to do your homeworks even though you initially came over to get away from your parents nagging you to do said homework.

you should’ve seen that diplomatic but persuasive nature of his would have landed him a job in one of the biggest firms in seoul. seokjin took on a much different route, choosing to work for samsung’s sister company that specialized in r&d-ing micro-everything that goes into the phone - which is also in seoul.

you and taehyung got into the same university but the different in majors yet again obstruct you from hanging out whenever you wanted to which was why you were almost always around in the weekend at the kim brothers’ shared apartment. that meant sacrificing your back, sleeping on the thinly layered futon taehyung bought for you on sale because he finally took pity on your sleeping on the couch and suffering from back pains every morning (they were exaggerated and taehyung knew but you guessed his guilty conscience got the best of him).

“what? so your girlfriend found out i’ve been crashing at your place and she wants you to choose between me and her?” you’re in front of the laptop (they don’t have a tv) in the living room, eating a bowl of ramen while taehyung has his cheesy burrito, the movie freezing in the screen before you turn to him with the most, you’d say, nasty frown.

“i mean - she just said a girl and a guy shouldn’t be sleeping together in a room regardless if one’s on the bed and the other’s on the floor,” taehyung’s avoiding your eyes and that’s how you know he’s actually debating following that snobbish little bitch’s instructions.

now, you don’t call just anyone a bitch but when you do, she’s on your ‘don’t fuck with’ list.

“do you see my girlfriend complaining about us sharing a room when me and her were dating?” you point out in a matter of factly.

“th-this and that are two different things!” taehyung slams the burrito onto the plate in his lap and slams said plate onto the coffee table.

you say slam but it’s really possibly just a tad bit aggressive than what taehyung’s like usually.

“how is it different?” the bowl of ramen clicks sharply when you place it on the coffee table too.

“i-it just is,” taehyung shrugs.

“i can’t believe you’re choosing some bimbo over me!” hand over your chest, you look at him dramatically, jaw hanging loose and eyes accusing.

“you’ve been sleeping in the living room before i got the futon. it’ll just be like one of those days, you know what i mean?” he shrugs - or at least attempts to look casual about it.

“look at this place! it’s not even big enough to fit the futon,” hands flailing, you gesture towards the minimal space on the floor.

“it’s fine, we can move the coffee table somewhere-” taehyung still tries but you’re already vexed-marching towards the hallway with your bowl of ramen without another word.

to just about anyone, it would’ve been obvious that you’ve had it with your best friend. but taehyung being taehyung is probably desensitized to your anger fits because this time, he does sound casual when he shouts, “what about the movie? can i continue watching without you?”

“do whatever you want!” you shout back before slamming the door behind you.

it takes you a moment to gather yourself before you notice the heat of a pair of eyes on you from all the way across the room. seokjin lies in bed with his laptop on his lap, pillows elevating his upper body. he’s staring at you with arched brows and cute naturally puckered lips.

“oh, don’t mind me. i just had a fight with taehyung and i can’t stand to see him right now,” you say, walking over to the vacant table and chair, “do you mind if i finish my ramen here?”

“be my guest,” before he even lifts his hand from the laptop to gesture towards said desk, you’re already plopping down with a “thanks!”

soon enough, the tapping sound of his keyboard fills the otherwise silent room. you don’t know how long time’s passed but you’ve already finished your ramen and scrolling through instagram on your phone when you see seokjin’s latest post.

he’s sitting in a cafe, dressed in a denim jacket over a white turtle neck with a cap casting shadow over his eyes. the angle he has head head lowered makes it all the more difficult to see his expression. only his soft kissable lips are visible.

so you double tap on the picture before going into gallery and scrolling through your own pic. there’s one with you standing in front of a brick wall, clad in all black, bringing out your colorful eye makeup in conjunction with pride month. the way you’re standing accentuates your curve, bringing attention to your hips after the beholder would be done with admiring the emotions in your eyes.

you have taehyung to thank for that picture but you’re not about to tag him for credit because you haven’t really forgave him. he’s on his phone since it dinged with a notification, probably from you liking his picture. but he hasn’t even looked at you once throughout the course of that and you posting a new picture.

relentless, open up snapchat, posing for a picture and making sure the frame captures the sight of your perked breasts as you stick the tip of your tongue out, smirking and biting on it ever so gently.

with a caption of ‘don’t have a bedroom to sleep in tonight, can i sleep in urs, ggukie-yah?’

it takes a second and a half for him to set his phone down... and go back to his laptop. the tapping sound continues without even the slightest hiccup to it - and he’s already opened your snap.

so with that, you stand up, pick up your bowl, making sure to stand in a way that makes your hips more curved and breasts more defined, “well, i guess i need to get out of here since taehyung’s jealous ass girlfriend doesn’t want me sleeping in his room.”

“hm?” his brows raises at that, “you’re leaving? but it’s night time.”

your dorm is at least half an hour away and it’s too expensive by grab - you usually go back on monday with taehyung since he has a car. but since you’re not on speaking terms, both you and seokjin know that even if the youngest brother offers to drive you back - you’d straight out refuse him. would probably even say something along the lines of your friendship being over and that he has no obligations to ensure you return safely. all of it’s gotta be dramatic though. maybe add in crocodile tears.

“i’d probably stay over at a friend’s at least he’ll lend me his bed to sleep in, unlike your woman-choosing brother.” when your hand is on the handle, seokjin stops you.

“this friend... is it ‘gukkie-yah’?” and there goes the fish biting the bait.

“how did you know?” you’d like to think your tilted head and confused, drawn together eyebrows are convincing enough.

“you mistook me for him... i got your snap which was probably meant for him,” he waves his darkened phone screen in the air.

“oh my god, you did?” hand over your mouth, you gasp, “i’m so sorry, that was embarrassing.”

“it’s chill,” he shrugs.

“anyways, i’ll text him on my way there. he usually has no qualms lending a helping hand to a friend in need,” and with that, you twist the doorknob.

“are you guys... close?” the question hits the air with a different kind of tone.

“kinda,” you say, face struggling to stay neutral when you see the way his eyes glint with a dangerous gleam, “we were fwb’s in freshman year before i started dating yoona... might continue where we left off.”

“cool,” is all he says before he goes back to his laptop, the incessant tapping sound echoing throughout the room. not even a glance is spared at you the whole time you slip out of the door and close it behind you.

taehyung’s eyes catch yours for the briefest second and before he can even say anything (he looks like he would’ve said hi like he didn’t just choose his girlfriend over you), you’re holding up a hand, “don’t talk to me. i’m still mad at you for choosing a girl over me.”

as soon as you’re done washing the dishes, you pad back towards the hallway, not even caring that taehyung’s not bothering to get up from his spot or pausing the movie to talk to you - guess you’re both in that stage where you know no matter how mad the other is, they’ll never be mad enough to break the friendship for forever.

either way, if your best friend already exiled you from his room and your crush doesn’t even care about you going over to another boy’s place, you might as well actually go over to said boy’s place.

at least jeongguk’s dick game is good.

“you’re really going?” seokjin’s sillhoutte leans against the door frame whilst you’re stuffing your clothes into a h&m’s paper bag.

“yeah, like, i’m done. i’m not gonna let that bimbo think she won,” you huff while in the middle of shoving your headphones on top of the neatly folded pile.

“you can sleep with me,” as soon as he said those words, you can see panic spread through his face as he quickly adds, “in my room- on the bed- i can sleep on the floor.”

“why can’t we sleep in the same bed?”

his eyes follow the sweater that you were in the middle of folding and discard, tossing it onto taehyung’s bed.

“you and taehyung don’t-” he starts but you’re convulsing in disgust.

“ew,” you manage to hold back your rising bile. so he stays quiet. clad in a creme colored sweater that makes him look cozy and warm, “why’d you think i never complained about sleeping on the couch or on the floor? it’s cause i don’t wanna catch his cooties!”

okay, so maybe that was a lie. taehyung may be cootie-less but you’ve never been the huggy-cuddly kind of best friends. for one, it’s because you both did believe that touching the opposite gender will actually render your whole body spotted with incurable diseases and before you know it, you both were allergic to physical contact with each other at least.

seokjin doesn’t seem to believe so, otherwise he wouldn’t be shaking his head and smiling to himself.

“does that mean we can sleep in the same bed?” you cross the short distance between the bed where you’re standing over and to the door, putting on your best puppy eye.

“sure, why not?” seokjin caves like he always does back then.

you squeal in delight, arms wrapping around his waist as you give him a big hug whilst he freezes under your touch but doesn’t tell you to go away, “eeep, thanks!”

it’s almost as if the incident at the kitchen this afternoon was just a dream.

x

taehyung has tried talking to you - you say talk because no word of apology slipped through his mouth - but you’re having none of it, hiding behind seokjin’s big bro influence, or so you’d like to call it, when he burst through his eldest brother’s door, demanding for his best friend, “i know she’s in here!”

“she is,” seokjin says simply and you’re about to shoot him accusatory looks before he chuckles, “but she doesn’t want to talk to you.”

“____, come on, the squad’s all ready to play,” so that’s what he’s after.

over the years, you and taehyung have gathered your own like-minded people when it comes to video games. you don’t own a personal computer so your laptop suffers for it but the upside is that you get to bring it everywhere and it’s a pretty sturdy, gamer laptop.

“i’m playing here,” you say, laptop already set up on seokjin’s desk, headphones on.

“okay, whatever,” with a roll of his eyes, taehyung closes the door, leaving you and seokjin alone again.

and so it goes, you giving rapt attention to the game and the occasional comments spilling out of your lips when one of you make a dumb mistake or when one of you manage to kill off the enemy team’s avatar until you end up being killed yourself.

“what?” jeongguk - oh, he’s part of the squad - drags out as if he couldn’t belive his eyes.

“that’s cheating, bro,” taehyung’s voice rings in your earphone, “they literally ganged up on ___!”

“shit, shit, shit, shit, we’re gonna lose,” hoseok chants like a mantra.

“no, we’re not gonna lose,” you can just hear jimin rolling his eyes.

“bro, stop capping! we lost our fighter!” hoseok is at a point where he’s shrieking now.

“well, take however-long-it-takes-for-me-to-respawn, i guess,” you say in the middle of them arguing that they still have a hybrid fighter who is jeongguk.

either way, you’re already standing up, stretching your stayed-in-one-position-for-too-long limbs just in time for seokjin to walk in with a towelette draped over his head - you remember him using those cute little printed ones back then to dry his face after he brushed his teeth and cleansed his face. sure enough, he looks as fresh as the air that you’re about to take.

“you’re going to bed?” you ask the obvious.

“yeah, don’t worry, you don’t have to turn off the lights.”

“oh, don’t worry, i’m used to playing in the dark - my eyes are immune,” you wave a dismissive hand.

then he steals a glance at your laptop where your headphone lies next to it, emitting the lowest mumblings from your squad.

“you died?” he asserts - it’s obvious because otherwise, why would you even be talking to him.

“yeah, i think i’m gonna go wash my face now too.”

and with that, you’re out of the door, bursting in taehyung’s and shaking his shoulders to distract him as he reports the act of disturbance you’re comitting to the squad before you leave for the bathroom where your toiletries have made home in the cabinet along with taehyung’s belongings whilst namjoon and seokjin opts for placing theirs on either corners of the sink.

when you’re back, the room is already dark with your laptop being the only thing guiding your steps. there’s a lump underneath the blanket on the left side of the bed and another bright light casting sight on seokjin’s face as he scrolls through his phone.

he doesn’t bat an eye when you climb over, only looking up when it’s too late. thanks to his phone light, you can see how his eyes widen as he gazes at you with a mixture of disbelief and confusion.

you just pecked him on his cheek.

“good night,” and with that, you bound over to your laptop, noting that you’ve already respawned and getting shit talked by your squad for your tardiness and almost being the cause that the whole team was going to lose.

but fifteen minutes in, you make a blunder that causes the whole team to lose, “alright, alright, i don’t think i’m in my zone right now. maybe i’ll hit the sack.”

a chorus of protests erupts through your headphone as jeongguk starts calling you out on uncanny ability to stay up all night playing.

“i’m hitting twenty!” you dramatically moan, “my body doesn’t work like it used to!”

the protests floods in one more time but by then, you’re already saying your goodbyes, making sure to give taehyung a warning not to come bursting into seokjin’s room because he’s already asleep and you don’t want to get kicked out for being the cause his little brother disrupted his sleep to find the best friend he’s housing after she got exiled.

“seokjin?” you whisper into the dark, climbing onto the bed for the second time of the night but this time, you’re on top of the human-sized lump.

when no answer comes from the man, you giggle, “please, i heard your phone shutting off when i was telling the boys i was going to bed- had one headphone over my ear and the other off.”

only then does the man underneath you move, his tone bearing a warning, “taehyung is right across the hallway.”

“shh,” you’re groping blindly, but lady luck deems that you find seokjin’s neck and then his plump lips with ease, “then we better be real quiet.”

unlike this morning, he isn’t as deflective. doesn’t tell you to stop even when you’re grinding directly over him. and boy, is he hung.

“you know,” he lets you pry the sheets off him, kicking it off his feet completely as you take a seat on his hardening self, breasts pressed against his chest as you slowly lay yourself on him, “i was hoping you’d fuck me when i was playing,” his heartbeat is deliciously erratic, “bend me over the desk and fuck me while i talk to my friends like nothing’s happening.”

seokjin’s teeth grazing over your thumb that you use to shush him comes off as a pleasant surprise. your only regret is not letting the laptop stay on so you’d at least be able to see what kind of expression he’d make.

“you might not be able to keep your moans in on your first time with me,” the unadulterated confidence reeking off him is enticing. so ever different from the kim seokjin who’d throw around dad jokes in the house whenever the four of you sit down to have dinner, “none of the ladies i slept with could.”

“is that a challenge?” you don’t pretend to hide your excited tone as you shoot up, eyes searching for a face but all you see is darkness.

but you feel him underneath. you smell his fresh minty breath. you hear his deep breaths. you feel him.

“touch me,” it doesn’t take long for you to find both of his hands after you took off your tanktop and bra, mainly because they’re caressing your ass. all you do is cup them over your exposed breasts.

his hands are larger than jeongguk’s. they swallow your voluptous breasts like they were quarter sized cups. but by god, does he know how to fondle a woman. he teases you, grazing his thumb over your erect nipples ever so gently that you crave for more. it’s no surprise that when his hand snakes behind you and pulls you down, you easily submit.

you’ve always wondered how his lips would feel on you - but you never thought the first thing they’d be on is your nipple. suckling and biting tenderly whilst his hand makes sure your other nipple is kept accompanied.

“ah!” a mixture of a moan and a shout escapes your lips when he bites a tad too hard. teasing. testing the waters.

“for a little minx, you’re quite sensitive,” his chuckle is as warm and endearing. too warm and endearing for someone who’s doing things he shouldn’t do to his precious little brother’s best friend.

“the boys dig it,” you remark, not knowing that it would spark a fire that burns so bright, it can only be put out by your silent suffering as he flips you two over.

“that’s right, you’ve only ever had boys,” it’s not a question and even if it is, you wouldn’t have the time to answer because you’re yelping in surprise at the coolness that licks your entrance, legs forced open by seokjin’s knee.

“and girls- ah!”

a lone, single fingerpad rims around your opening. and that’s all it takes for you to swallow thickly. breath coming out bated with anticipation. heartbeat racing.

“let’s see, if you don’t make a sound, i’ll fuck you while you play next time,” he slips the tip of his finger in as if testing you, hoping you’d moan right when he sets down his offer on the table. your bottom lip hurts from suddenly forcing your teeth on it but that’s a small price to pay especially when you haven’t heard of the second half of the deal, “if you do make a sound, we stop this whole thing - no more teasing, no more seemingly innocent little gestures.”

“alright, bet,” that might’ve come off a little prickly, but it’s all seokjin’s fault! if he wasn’t hung like a horse, you would’ve taken one speculative glance and left him to his own devices!

the sweet chuckle echoing off the walls is disarming. so much so, when he slips one digit into you, your back arches and you’re biting into the pillow to stop a moan from escaping.

“is that a moan i hear? since we just started, i’ll let you off the hook,” there it is again, that disarming trickle of hymn as he slips in and out of you, loosening you up for something much, much bigger.

“it was a cough, god damn it,” you barely manage to get that out before you’re shoving your curled index finger into your mouth when he starts inserting two fingers inside without so much as a warning.

“that’s cheating!” you whine but your legs spread wider anyway.

“all is fair in war and sex,” he comments, free hand pinning your hips down on the bed before he starts thrusting his digits faster, the squelching sound of your juices reverberating against the walls - you fear that even without your moans, the two other brothers that are walls apart would’ve heard and come knocking on seokjin’s door.

along with the fear comes the electrifying euphoric sensation that courses from the tip of your toes to your core and all over your body. you remember clawing at seokjin’s hand that’s pinning you down because of how unbearably rapturous he’s making you feel. you remember his hand not budging a single inch from your meek attempts. you remember trying to bring your legs together but something’s wedged in between them. you remember tears pricking your eyes as the background slowly fades - taehyung’s presence in the room across from where you are, the possibility of namjoon coming back and walking down the hallway right as your back arches upwards and toes curling inwards as sparks course through your veins.

when your senses come back, seokjin’s in the middle of complimenting your hardwork, if “not bad” is even plausibly a praise. his fingers are still inside you, unmoving, possibly waiting for you to come down from your pleasured state.

“did i pass?” you might have been a little too elated.

“surprisingly,” he affirms, that beautiful sound of chuckles spilling out of his mouth.

“then won’t you fuck me right now? i’m already wet for you,” the last part, you say with a tinge of spoiled-ness.

“not tonight,” he says, before instructing you to lift up your head and slipping his shirt over it. you know it’s his because his heat still lingers when you slip your arms through the arm holes, cheeks hot as you forearm brushes against a nude chest as he pulls the sheets up over you.

but you being you, manage to ruin the moment with your, “why not?”

seokjin hums, that sound alone enough to make your heart shake with a sort of emotion that you can’t pinpoint, “like taehyung says - things are better in moderation.”

“he never said that,” you plainly dispute.

“well,” a kiss lands on the side of your head and an arm drapes over your stomach, just above the area where he used the same hand attached to that arm to pin you down as he fingered you, “let’s just say it’s my way of keeping you from going back to that ggukie-guy.”

you gasp into the dark, “are you jealous?!”

“i sure am,” he admits, a bit too willingly - as if it’s a known fact.

“oh,” you say, lost for words becase - “no one really admits that they are, not the people i’ve been with at least.”

“that’s cause you never been with a man... or woman. but i’d say being with a man - me - is better. i’ll show you what you’re missing out on,” he shushes you up with a “shhh” and a hand on your jaw to turn you towards him.

a pair of the softest lips meets yours and whatever retort you’re thinking up of is already out of the window.

x

note. this is different than what i’m used to writing so i’ll probably need some help!! i’m planning to update this from time to time with scenarios like ‘where he picks you up from your uni’ or ‘wherein he takes you shopping’ - idk djashdsakj send in suggestions that you think will fit oc and seokjin’s dynamic and i’ll incorporate them for the upcoming parts in their (nsfw) adventures to realizing their feelings for each other while also sneaking around behind taehyung’s back! it’s cool if you don’t though! but heads up, my smut writing skills aren’t as good so you’ll probably see more sexy times / implied smut most of  the time lol

 either way, hope yall enjoyed this!

#seokjin x reader #bts x reader #seokjin scenarios #bts smut #seokjin smut #bts scenarios #bts fanfic #bts fic #seokjin fanfic #seokjin fic #seokjin x you #bts x you #bts scenario #seokjin scenario

[missing-marvel]

The Shape of You (Pt. 4)

Pairing: Vision/Reader

Part 3, Part 5

Words: 5698

A/N: *shows up several months late with coffee and a new chapter* What’s up y’all, who’s ready for more metal husband?

-

You awoke feeling sluggish and hazy, practically choking on dust and resisting the need to sneeze. The feeling quickly shifted to panic as you opened your eyes to even more darkness which only worsened when you tried to move, something blocking the space in front of you as well as tangling around your legs. It wasn’t until you rolled to the floor with a loud ‘thud’ that you remembered falling asleep on the sofa. You didn’t remember grabbing a blanket, however, which had gotten wrapped around your legs in your sleep.

You recognized Vision’s silhouette as he appeared hurriedly from the other room. You couldn’t see much in the dim light, but you could recognize him by his eyes alone. They glowed softly in the dark, that electric-blue bringing some familiarity to your surroundings.

The lights came on and you were momentarily blinded, shielding your eyes with your hand as they adjusted. “Sorry,” you said, blinking the last remnants of sleep away. “I just fell off the sofa. I’m okay.” You took a good look around the room for the first time since arriving, still not bothering to get up off the floor. It looked like a fairly basic living space. There was a patterned rug, a coffee table, some shelves with a few random knick-knacks, the usual. You did notice the lack of a TV, however. You supposed it wasn’t worth investing in one if no one would be living here ninety-nine percent of the time.

Still a bit groggy, you almost didn’t see Vision walk over to you and extend a hand to help you up. To be completely honest, you were perfectly comfortable on the floor but you weren’t going to turn him away. You uttered a quick ‘thanks’ as you got to your feet.

You had absolutely no idea what time it was but it was definitely dark out. Not a speck of light filtered in through the drawn curtains. Whether it was evening or early morning, however, you hadn’t a clue. “What time is it?”

Vision pointed to a digital clock sitting on a bookshelf close by. It read 6:30.

“I only slept for a few hours?” Well, more like several hours, by your estimate. It was broad daylight when you’d arrived. Still, that was surprising given that you’d basically passed out as soon as you got indoors and hadn’t slept in like two days.

Vision shook his head, however, cutting off your train of thought. He held up one finger on his right hand and put it down before holding up nine in total. It took you a second to understand what he meant, thinking he was saying ten before realizing.

“Are you saying I slept nineteen hours?” Vision just nodded and you let out a sigh. That explained why you felt so stiff. That much time on a sofa, even a surprisingly comfortable one, would take its toll. One other thing struck you, however. “Wait a minute, so it’s six in the morning, then? It’s awfully dark out.” You chanced a peek out the window to actually confirm that it was, in fact, dark outside.

You turned back when you heard the familiar scratch of pen on paper. It looked like Vision had found a new notepad somewhere. By the time you walked over, he had finished writing. “Clock is an hour ahead. Haven’t fixed it. Only got power back on a couple hours ago.”

“Oh, that makes more sense.” This time of year, it was perfectly normal to be dark at 5:30. However, it was also cold outside and you were beginning to notice that in here as well. You picked up the blanket off the floor and draped it over your shoulders, pulling it tight around yourself. “Is there heat at all?”

Vision wrote his response as quick as possible, handwriting still impeccable as always. “It’s on but not very strong. Building isn’t in best condition anymore. There’s fuses missing so I prioritized some things. A few lights aren’t going to work.” He stepped aside and gestured somewhere down the small hallway behind him. On the wall was an open panel.

“Wait this place still has a fuse box? The Avengers couldn’t afford someplace with circuit breakers?” You couldn’t help but crack a smile at your own joke, if you could really call it that. You were just happy your custodial knowledge was relevant for once.

“Old SHIELD building,” Vision quickly noted. If this place had been built by the Avengers, it would be far more modern, probably to an unnecessary extent. Tony Stark would only stand for the best, even if it was a safe house that would almost never get used.

“Shield? Are they still around?” You only sort of understood what SHIELD was. No more than any other member of the general public. They were a kind-of, sort-of government agency or something like that. They always kept their stuff super secret so most people never really knew what they did. Then there was the whole deal with Hydra which nobody understood. You decided a long time ago it wasn’t worth worrying about, much like most of the American populace. Perhaps you should have paid closer attention.

Vision simply tilted his hand side-to-side in a gesture that implied that the answer was complicated and really not worth getting into. He shifted the conversation to you instead. “How are you feeling?”

“I should be asking you that. You weren’t doing so well yesterday.” You tried not to let the worry in your voice show, though you weren’t sure what good it would do.

You thought you saw a hint of a smile cross his face as he turned back to his paper. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be alright.”

“Vision...” You recalled back to the other night, when you’d told him nearly the same thing after a couple solid days of no sleep. Before you could retort, however, he’d turned and headed toward the other room, gesturing for you to follow.

The small office space was an absolute mess. The only reason you called it an office was the papers and folders scattered around the room as well as the computer tucked away on a desk in the corner. Underneath a blanket of dust, it looked almost exactly like the first computer you’d ever owned. Actually, it might just be the first computer. You were pretty sure it should be in a museum.

Vision navigated the difficult terrain with ease as he made his way to the desk. You, on the other hand, felt like you were doing a balancing act as you tried to limit your steps to the few parts of the floor that were visible. You didn’t know what all these stacks of papers and folders were exactly, but you figured it was best not to mess with them.

“There’s no way that thing works,” you said once you’d cleared a spot to stand by the desk, your own little island of shag carpeting amongst the sea of paper.

Vision pried open a panel on the side of the computer, carefully removing a CPU board with all the expertise of a seasoned technician. The actual monitor was half buried in a pile of miscellaneous cords and plugs next to the desk. After a brief moment of inspection, wherein he must’ve decided all appeared fine, he went ahead and booted the thing up.

It chugged to life like a patient coming out of surgery, slowly and with great difficulty. It made sounds you were pretty sure should only be coming from a lawn mower but all the lights eventually blinked on in time. As it did so, you braved the sneeze-inducing dust pile for the monitor, the air turning cloudy as you shifted all the junk that had been untouched for years. “I’m guessing you’ll need this?” You hoisted the dinosaur of a monitor up onto the desk, Vision taking it gratefully and nodding a thanks your way.

For a minute after he plugged it in, it seemed the screen wasn’t going to work. Only after staring at it did you realize it was working, albeit extremely slowly. A symbol was appearing on the screen, the shape becoming more discernible the longer the machine whirred. As far you could tell, it looked like some kind of government emblem, like an eagle with a crest in the center. It wasn’t until it had spent a solid minute loading that you were able to read the text surrounding it. “Strategic Homeland Intervention Enforcement... Logistics Division? What on Earth does— wait, that’s what SHIELD stands for?”

Vision nodded in a way that suggested he wasn’t overly fond of the acronym either. You were beginning to think he wasn’t so difficult to read after all, not like you thought when you’d first met, at least. It just took time, much like reading the decades-old monitor had.

“I think someone just really wanted the initials to spell out shield.” You gave a breathy laugh, more air than sound. “What’re you going to do with this old thing? Can it even get internet?”

Vision shook his head and reached for his paper from the edge of the desk. “Not that kind of computer,” he wrote. You resisted butting in as he tore off a new sheet, still not used to the pauses in conversation that resulted from the rather roundabout method of communication. “It’s wired directly into an old SHIELD system and by extension, hopefully, the Avengers emergency system.”

“Really? I would’ve guessed this place predated the Avengers.” As you spoke, Vision got the keyboard hooked up which had been stuffed into one of the desk drawers. It was missing at least a quarter of its key caps, the really chunky, old kind that made a satisfying click-clack when pressed. Apparently they’d prioritized actual computer hardware over keyboards considering there were offices at your job that still had keyboards just like it. Correction: your old job. You’d almost forgotten.

“SHIELD software was integrated with Stark tech after the Battle of New York. In theory, we should be able to put out an emergency signal on a secure Avengers server from here.” You almost hadn’t noticed Vision writing again as you zoned out a bit.

You would’ve been more excited over good news, but you’d learned over the years what happened when you got your hopes up. “So when you say in theory, I’m guessing the odds aren’t exactly...” You trailed off, unable to continue without sounding horribly pessimistic.

“It will work,” was all he wrote, a noticeable firmness in his grip as he held the pen. You didn’t say anything else but moved closer to the desk, directly by his side now. There was what could only be described as a hint of doubt in his expression before he turned back to the monitor as green text cluttered the screen.

“We can only hope so.” You let your hand brush his shoulder as you navigated back towards the door, no longer particularly caring to avoid crumpling the paper on the floor.

You weren’t sure how long it would take Vision to finish what he was doing, especially with the tech he was stuck with. You found it more than a bit ironic that possibly the most advanced machine on the planet had to use a decades-old computer to call for help. It felt weird to think of him as a machine. After what you’d been through in the past 24 hours alone, you’d begun to think of him as just another person. Well, not just another person, that wasn’t what you meant. How to put it...? You just couldn’t explain it. There was no precedent in your mind for a situation like this. Vision was a living being. As alive as anyone, maybe more so. That much you could say confidently.

Trying not to get too lost in your thoughts, you busied yourself investigating the rest of the apartment, not that there was much to find. Living room, connected kitchen, hallway with the office and stairs that led up to a bedroom and bathroom. All pretty standard. All of it looked fresh out of the 80’s. Well, maybe not fresh.

Just as you completed your lap of the place, you were interrupted by a low grumble from none other than your own stomach. That was a problem. There was definitely not food here. You had no other choice really than to shove the feeling to the back of your mind for now. You got yourself a glass of water to make do. At least the plumbing worked.

By the time Vision came back, it had been less than twenty minutes. “That was quick. Any success?” You sipped your water, ignoring the slight metallic tang it had.

Vision wrote as he crossed the room to stand opposite you from the island counter. “The beacon is active. Now someone just needs to hear it.”

Despite his lack of vocals, you sensed a definite lack of confidence in his words. “How long do you think that’ll take?” You hoped not too long. You were concerned about your food situation.

He didn’t bother writing a response. The expression on his face made it clear; he had no idea. Maybe never, if no one was out there to hear it. You only hummed a response, neither confirming nor retorting. The sound of you sipping your water seemed immensely loud in the heavy silence of the room.

“Well, what do we do now?” You were becoming anxious again. You didn’t like being forced to sit and wait. At any minute, you felt like law enforcement would start breaking the door down.

“We wait. There’s nothing else we can do.” He seemed apologetic. He wished he could give you a more concrete answer, some sort of assurance that this would all work out, but he couldn’t. Not truthfully, anyway.

It looked like you had some time to kill. You weren’t sure what all there really was to do. Still, it wasn’t all bad. At least you had company. “I wonder if there’s a better way we can communicate,” you mused, turning your mind to less dire matters.

Vision seemed to brighten up a bit as he was struck by an idea. “You don’t happen to know any ASL, do you?”

You shook your head. “Unfortunately, no. I assume you do?”

He responded by holding up his right hand in a closed fist and sort of nodded it up and down.

“I’m guessing that means... yes?” It wasn’t a far stretch. You’d actually thought about learning ASL before but never gotten around to it. There were more uses for it than people realized. Too bad work left you too busy and tired to make the time for lessons. Well now you had nothing but time.

Vision just nodded his head in the more familiar interpretation of the word. He grabbed the pen and paper again off the counter. “I could teach you some. At least the important parts, if you want.” He hesitated a split second between sentences, just a bit nervous, though the pause was nowhere near long enough for you to notice. It was barely a stutter in his programming, a single digit skipped somewhere in his code. Nothing to be concerned with.

“Yeah,” you said, maybe just slightly too enthusiastic. “Yeah, that’d be great! I— I mean, it would be useful, you know? Way more efficient than pen and paper. Uhm...” You were struggling to ask how he wanted to start when your stomach growled, providing a convenient segue into another topic. “Heh, sorry. Didn’t realize how hungry I was.” You tried to pass it off as no big deal, although you really were starving. You hadn’t eaten anything since before setting Vision free. It had been well over a full day since then.

He looked surprised for a moment, which he was, before he began writing. For a genius super-computer, he could sometimes be very forgetful of the needs of his human cohorts. They were very fragile things, humans. The need for sleep and food was something Vision never had to worry about, something he realized he took for granted. Something akin to guilt began to gnaw at him when he too realized how long it had been since the escape. He should’ve brought up the matter earlier. “We need to get you food,” he wrote very matter-of-factly. It wasn’t something up for debate.

“I don’t exactly have a lot of cash on me, Vis.” You flinched at the nickname, quick to move on before he could call you out on it. It had been merely a slip of the tongue, just shortening his name for the sake of convenience. It could have been a gesture of friendship towards the android, though you weren’t sure you’d quite earned the right to call Vision a friend, even if you were fond of him. “I’ve got like 10 bucks, tops.” You pulled a few crumpled bills from your pockets to emphasize your point. You obviously couldn’t use your credit card, either. You’d seen enough movies to know that.

Vision thought a moment before coming up with an idea. “It’s not the most ethical thing to do, but I could get cash out of an ATM. It’s technically a matter of survival, after all.” He demonstrated exactly what he meant by phasing his hand through the paper as you read, something that could just as easily be done to a cash machine.

It wasn’t so much the legality of the idea that bothered you. After all, you’d stolen multiple cars. It was the matter of Vision’s safety. Not that he couldn’t protect himself but he would be spotted quite easily if he went outside. That was just a matter of fact. And if someone called the police on a strange magenta man or anything along the lines of ‘robot,’ you could pretty much guarantee trouble. “I don’t know... What if someone sees you? The last thing we want is to compromise the safe house. I can just wait awhile longer, I’ll be fine.”

Your stomach chose that moment to grumble again, completely undermining your point. Vision shot you a look that more than sufficed to communicate what he was thinking but he wrote it down anyway. “It would seem we don’t have much of a choice.”

You sighed, all but forced to agree. Although, it would be nice to get some actual food before your stomach started eating itself. “Fine,” you relented. “But we wait until it gets dark out. It’s safer that way.”

Vision wasn’t about to argue.

-

Memorization wasn’t really your strong suit, but you seemed to do surprisingly well with the start of your sign language lessons. It helped that your teacher was so patient.

Vision thought it would be best to start with a few simple phrases for the sake of saving paper. Common things such as ‘sorry’ and ‘thank you.’ You had the benefit of only really needing to recognize them as opposed to being able to do the signs yourself, since Vision could obviously hear you, but you took it upon yourself to mimic the gestures anyway.

It had been a few hours and your head was starting to ache but you insisted on continuing. You were certain you were doing well and you wanted Vision to be impressed. Not only could you remember how to spell your own name, you could spell his as well. The rest of the alphabet may not have stuck as much but oh well. For now, words and phrases were more important.

“That’s... someone?” You guessed as Vision held up his index finger and waved it in a sort of circle. He’d been quizzing you for a few minutes now, to which you’d done pretty well. He shook his head this time, however, and tried not to look amused by the almost comically offended look on your face. “What? Yes it is! I’m certain that means ‘someone!’” You were insistent on the fact. Vision hadn’t tried to trip you up yet but he must be this time. You tried to mimic the motion, repeating the word as if that would change anything.

He shook his head again, not bothering to hide his smile this time. He reached for your hand, raising it higher to show you that there was, in fact, a slight difference between what he was signing and what you were. For a moment, you looked almost startled, like a deer in headlights. He didn’t miss the hint of color that tinged your cheeks. His assumption was merely that you were embarrassed by your mistake, though it was an easy one to make. He switched back to paper in order to explain. “This,” he repeated his first gesture. “means ‘always’. What you signed was ‘someone.’ See the difference?”

You nodded in understanding although your attention was beginning to drift. You felt like you were cramming for an exam in a class you hadn’t been attending. You may or may not have actually had to do that before. The point was, you’d learned just about all you were going to for the day. And just in time, it seemed, as you glanced toward the curtains, no longer backlit by the afternoon sun. You’d managed to kill most of the day, between checking that the computer was still working and just generally talking with Vision. There wasn’t much else to do, not that you were complaining. You were quite enjoying the android’s company and not just because you were stuck with him. And to top it off, you’d managed to distract yourself from how hungry you were. Until now, that is.

“How about we call it a day on the lessons, hm? I’d say now’s about the best time to head outside. There’s just one thing we have to do first.” You turned and exited the room without explanation, only saying you’d be right back. You ran upstairs to the bedroom, hoping you could find what you needed. You hadn’t voiced your plan to Vision, although you saw no reason for him not to go along with it. It was a smart idea if you said so yourself. At least that’s what you told yourself as you began rifling through drawers.

Vision wasn’t sure what to think at first when you came bumbling down the stairs again with a messily folded bundle in your hands. But your intention became clear quite quickly once you’d returned, immediately holding out the clothes to him before bothering to explain.

“I hope this isn’t rude but you kind of… stand out. I just thought, maybe it’d be a good idea to disguise yourself. Just for safety. Is that okay?” You hoped there was no offense taken by the gesture. In truth, you were glad Vision was going with you and not just because of the money thing. You didn’t feel particularly safe walking the streets alone at night, especially when you didn’t know the area. But having Vision by your side made you feel nigh invincible. There was just the small issue of technically being wanted criminals.

He smiled, more to himself than anything. It was just strange, he thought, how concerned you were with his opinion. Of course he wasn’t offended. It was a smart idea. He chuckled a bit, although it was a strange action given his physical state. The motion of a laugh was there, his shoulders shuddering as any human’s would despite his lack of need to actually breathe, but there was no sound. It was one of those mannerisms that was ingrained in his programming, though he wasn’t sure quite where it came from. Not from Jarvis, certainly, since the AI had no physical form, and Ultron likely hadn’t been terribly focused on such gestures at the time of his creation. In reality, it was simply something he’d picked up on his own, even if he wasn’t aware of it.

You let out a breathy chuckle of your own as he took the clothes, glad to see he agreed with you wholeheartedly. He got dressed quickly, leaving only his face visible when he was done. Luckily, it was cold enough outside for him to get away with wearing gloves, a scarf and a hat. The clothes were a bit old-fashioned but in a professional way. The long wool coat and slacks in particular gave the impression of a scholarly type, perhaps even a professor. You couldn’t help but think it was a good look for him.

“Well don’t you look just dashing,” you teased. You’d found a coat for yourself as well, deciding your own jacket wasn’t going to be enough. You silently thanked whatever SHIELD employee set this place up for supplying a myriad of spare clothes. “Oh, one more thing.” You turned to the coat rack by the door, grabbing a scarf that had been left hanging there. “Just in case.”

You hesitated at the front door. Despite the fact that you were merely going to look for a convenience store or something similar, your anxiety spiked as though it were a dangerous mission. You could just imagine all the ways you could get caught. It was almost enough to make you stay here, slowly starving to death waiting for something to happen. Vision noticed your apprehension, however, and did the first thing that came to mind to soothe your worries. He gave you a warm smile, holding out a bent arm for you to take. He thought you might find the somewhat old-fashioned gesture funny and he was right. You laughed, taking his arm anyway. It was a nice reminder that the odds of anything bad happening were tremendously low, which you mentally repeated to yourself as you stepped outside.

-

Everything had gone off without a hitch. There was a small grocery store a few blocks down which you’d run into just before closing time so the store was nearly empty. Vision had waited outside near the ATM, which had provided the funds you needed. Other than the bored clerk at the store, you hadn’t seen so much as a single soul this whole trip. By the time you and Vision were walking back, burdened by just a few days worth of groceries (which would ideally be more than enough), your previous worries had all but melted away.

You only wished the weather matched the feeling. Nothing was melting in this cold. In fact, a few snowflakes had begun to fall. They were almost mesmerizing under the blueish haze of the streetlights, whipped into a frenzy by the faintest of gusts. The sight wasn’t enough of a distraction, however. You couldn’t help it when a shiver wracked your body, your coat not doing nearly enough to prevent it. Vision noticed this, however, and stopped you both in your tracks.

He was quick to reach for the paper and pen in his coat pocket, a look on his face of more concern than you thought necessary. It was only a little chill. “Are you cold?” The question wasn’t particularly necessary, the answer being obvious. Still, it was polite to ask.

You tried to shrug it off, noticeably tensing to suppress a second shiver. “I’m fine. Let’s just hurry back.” You turned to keep walking, knowing there was still a decent walk ahead but he stopped you, putting a hand on your arm for the briefest of seconds. He just looked at you a moment, seeming to forget about his paper. You caught the faintest hint of conflict in his expression, though you didn’t know why. “What is it, Vision?”

Realizing he’d made you worry, Vision seemed to snap back to his senses. He gave you a reassuring smile and reached for his scarf, undoing it quickly. You were facing him, standing close enough to see the circuitry in his eyes. He paused again, however, debating his next action. For a being that didn’t have nerves, he sure felt nervous and didn’t fully understand why. He moved at a pace far slower than he was used to, hesitantly wrapping the scarf around your neck for you. His touch was light as a feather as if he were afraid to touch you. You could do nothing but watch him, lost in the details of his eyes and face as your grip on the grocery bags began to loosen involuntarily.  There was a moment where neither of you moved, his hands still lingering on the loose fabric of the scarf.

Your heart skipped a beat at the gesture, mind racing to find a logical conclusion that didn’t concern such things as the vague and confusing emotions that spiked in your chest just then. It was cold, so Vision gave you his scarf. Your hands were full, so he put it on for you. But what you couldn’t answer was why he lingered the way that he did and more importantly, why your chest began to feel tight in a way that wasn’t as unpleasant as you’d think. The most sensible reason you could think of was that he was simply a gentleman, and perhaps a little unfamiliar with personal boundaries. That was the only possibility you had the strength to consider. Anything else would open doors you were afraid to even imagine.

Footsteps scraping heavily against the pavement cut the tender, if rather nerve-filled moment short. You turned toward the sound, though Vision remained facing slightly away, bowing his head somewhat in an attempt to conceal himself. You froze when a figure emerged from the alleyway; a heavy-set man whose posture listed to one side, most likely from some kind of injury. His clothes were noticeably old and ragged, most definitely not warm enough for this weather. You would’ve asked him if he needed help were it not for the knife he brandished at you.

“Look, I don’t want any trouble,” he said, his voice wavering. Funny, you were just about to say the same thing. Clearly, he wouldn’t be doing this unless he was desperate and in a bad situation. Unfortunately, you weren’t much better off. “I saw you, I know you have cash. Just hand it over and no one gets hurts.”

Under normal circumstances you would’ve complied but you’d used up pretty much all the cash you got and you couldn’t risk giving him your wallet. If your ID found its way into police hands there’d be government agents swarming this place before you ever got the chance to bail. “We don’t have any money left, I swear. Please, just walk away.” You moved slowly, setting the grocery bags on the ground and raising your hands in surrender without making any sudden movements that could set him off. You weren’t as afraid as you probably should’ve been, choosing to try and reason with the man rather than flee, which would probably be the smarter option.

The man stepped closer to you, his grip on the knife visibly tightening. He was nearly within arm’s reach now which wasn’t ideal but you held your ground. Vision caught the man’s movement out of the corner of his eye, his hand reflexively grabbing at your arm protectively. The man furrowed his brow, glancing between the two of you in confusion. At this distance, even without Vision facing him, he could almost definitely tell something was strange here. Having given you his scarf, the only things covering Vision’s face were a hat and upturned coat collar. You spoke up again, drawing the man’s attention before he could get too close of a look. “This doesn’t have to get messy. Please… ”

You weren’t sure exactly how long the three of you stood there, time frozen around you. The only things that moved were the snowflakes that had grown more frequent in the past couple minutes. The man finally shifted, albeit barely, one foot scraping harshly against the concrete as he braced himself. He glanced between you and Vision again, jaw clenched tightly. “I ain’t walking away empty-handed. I can’t. Just gimme your damn wallet.”

Vision tugged gently on your arm. You weren’t sure exactly what he was trying to say, either trying to pull you closer to him or signal that you should run. You didn’t think running was a good idea. You feared Vision’s injuries acting up again and you didn’t want to test your own speed either. You turned back to the man, desperately pleading at this point. “I can’t …”

“Then I’ll just have to take it from you.” He didn’t give you another chance to argue, immediately lunging at you haphazardly. He couldn’t even get close to hitting you, however, as Vision’s reflexes were far superior to the man’s. The android grabbed his arm, twisting it painfully to the side and forcing him to drop the knife. The man yelped and threw a punch at Vision, who dodged it easily. The man didn’t seem to understand just how drastically outmatched he was, not even now that he had a clear view of Vision’s face. Whatever was going through his head, he still seemed to think fighting was his best option. He took another swing at Vision who, up until this point, had no intention of fighting back. But he was left with few other options. He pushed back against his attacker, sending the man sprawling to the ground with a painful ‘smack’ as he hit the pavement. There was genuine fear in his eyes when he looked back up at the two of you.

“Vis, we gotta go.” It was you holding his arm now, pleading with him to leave. He nodded quickly, completely in agreement. The two of you paused only long enough to scoop up the dropped grocery bags before making your escape. The man didn’t dare follow you as you disappeared down a side street, desperate to avoid any more prying eyes. This was the exact sort of thing you’d been afraid of when you’d left the safe house. You could only hope the man kept his mouth shut about what he’d witnessed tonight but it seemed luck may not be on your side.

-

A/N:  I want to mention that I don’t personally know much ASL and had to rely on videos, etc. so if anything at all is wrong, I apologize. Feel free to call me out.

#vision/reader #vision x reader #marvel fanfiction #avengers fanfiction

[genesisrose74]

A/n: This idea just popped into my head this morning and I needed to write it out, guess who finished in one day instead of focusing on summer school aha ha...so here’s the next edition of Class 1-A quarantine hc’s! I think I’ll include a bit of background for all of these, just for future reference if anyone likes them lmao. Today we have everyone’s favorite nitroglycerin king, Bakugo Katsuki! Hope y’all enjoy cause I’m honestly so soft for this one okay BYE-

Surprisingly, you’re initially part of the Dekusquad, but you’ve always been close with Kirishima and Mina and feel comfortable hanging out with their group as well so you start gravitating to the Bakusquad 

At first, Bakugo is really standoffish because, “You’re seriously friends with that damn nerd Deku” - wow everyone be hating on our cinnamon roll smh

But then he sees how much the rest of Bakusquad likes you and he starts warming up

It starts with small little things like not hogging all the space on the couches in the dorms and having you sit beside him

Then he notices that you’re very forgetful of your jacket and he ends up keeping a spare in his bag just in case the weather gets really bad

“I mistakenly grabbed two this morning, so lighten my load and carry the jacket—I don’t give a shit if you put it on, just hold it will you!” 

He’s acts all aggressive whenever he tries to be subtle and someone calls him out on it pffft- 

“What the hell are you talking about? You trying to get punched in the face?”

And his feelings are emphasized when the whole class is allowed to use the pool one afternoon and you’re pulling up with Mina and Momo

You’ve got a cute swimsuit and a sun hat on, and King Explosion Murder starts sweating a dangerous amount of nitroglycerin 

Bakugo Katsuki has a thing for soft girls who can pull a one-eighty and kick ass no I do not take criticism

The class wants to play chicken and everyone is choosing partners, but in the corner of his eye Bakugo sees you getting cornered by Mineta 

You’re usually able to handle the horny tornado but you’re feeling a bit too exposed in a bathing suit and start losing your cool

When I tell you the whole Bakusquad BOLTS to come rescue you-

Mineta is literally launched out of the pool by Sero like a rocket ship in orbit and the rest of the group is in this protective barrier formation around you (yes the squad has protocols for this kind of thing don’t even deny it)

Bakugo is beside you in a second with his hands secured on your waist because no one is coming near you like that when he’s around

“Why don’t you be my partner, yeah?”

And that's the story of how y’all destroyed everyone at chicken with absolutely no mercy and Bakugo finds your competitiveness that entire day attractive as hell

Walking back to the dorms afterwards, he pulls you away from the group and the look he gives you is  s e a r i n g

“For the love of God, go out with me” and he does not have to tell you twice

Literally the entire class is SHOOK because you’re actually pretty mellow and Mr. My Only Vocabulary Word Is Die is...ya know...✨volatile✨

But let’s be honest he’s actually a softie if you’re close enough to him (sorry Deku you’re the exception but we still luv u) and everyone ends up adoring y’all being together

When quarantine rolls around and you both have to live back at your respective houses, everything is decently calm for about two days and then you both start getting bored as hell

Honestly longer than you expected 

Bakugo hates social distancing with a passion but he agrees to abide by the rules and ends up asking you to Facetime at least twice a day

His bedroom is actually very tidy ‘cause Bakugo hates clutter, especially when he’s doing schoolwork

I wholeheartedly believe that Bakugo is a beast in the kitchen and y’all can fight me about it because his knife skills are canon and you best believe he learned it to be more independent 

He’s been experimenting with new cooking recipes and is a master at making something out of practically nothing in his fridge, which is really handy when a trip to the grocery store is long overdue

He sends you pictures of his dishes and your responses are all praise and none of it’s exaggerated either; this boy can COOK 

Netflix Parties with the Bakusquad — the chat gets loaded with Denki and Kiri spamming and Bakugo yelling at them in all caps to shut up

Your lock screen is a picture of the group on Facetime and you all have filters on (somehow you got Bakugo to use one don’t ask how); literal friendship goals

And then it’s been about a whole month since quarantine started and Bakugo wants to come visit you, but his mom shuts that down quicker than Barry Allen in the Speed Force

He’s pissed because he and his family feel perfectly healthy but his mother will not let him leave under any circumstances

So when his parents go to visit some relatives who were more susceptible to the virus and needed help with a couple basic tasks you decide to sneak out to see him (in good health of course)

Imagine his surprise when his typically rule-following girlfriend calls and is already standing in his backyard, bags of groceries in your possession

***

Bakugo shot you an incredulous look as you sat at the kitchen table. “You know I could have just opened the front door for you.”

“Yeah, but going through the window was way more fun,” you defended. “It’s not like I’m very rebellious at any other time, so might as well live it up while I have the courage.”

The blond snorted, sifting through the numerous bags you brought along to his house. They were filled with an assortment of foods: vegetables, meat, rice, sauces and the like. 

“What’s all this for?” he inquired, pulling out a bottle of teriyaki sauce.

You couldn’t help the small smile that grew on your face as your boyfriend curiously examined the items. “It’s for you to cook with, duh.”

“And how am I supposed to explain the new abundance of food in the fridge to my parents?”

“Say that I had it sent over through Postmates or something. Even I thought of that, Katsuki.”

He rolled his eyes as he placed down the last bag of items. “I can’t believe you snuck out and brought all this stuff,” he murmured, leaning over to kiss the top of your head. “Thank you, babe.”

A faint blush rises to your cheeks, despite the fact you’ve been dating the first year student for a few months now. Girlfriend or not, verbal thanks from the King Explosion Murder was rare. “You’re welcome.”

Bakugo turned to the stove and started organizing a number of ingredients on the counter beside it, pulling out kitchenware from cabinets as he went.

“Since you’re here and all, I suppose I could make your dumb ass something,” he remarked. 

Your eyes practically sparkled with excitement at the offer; you were hoping the blond would make you one of his iconic dishes eventually. A ghost of a grin was present on Bakugo’s face at the cheer that left your mouth, his back facing you as he got started. 

You were quick to situate yourself on top of the kitchen counter, Bakugo lifting you by the waist to place you farther away from the flaming stove but still allowing you to watch as he worked. His knife skills were almost scary when chopping up the vegetables, the pace at which he was cutting them astonishing you, and the overall aroma of the space had your mouth watering before he was even close to finishing the meal.

“I feel like a judge on Master Chef,” you giggled, and the boy shook his head at the comment as he eyed a timer he had set for the pork he put on the stove. 

“I’m pretty sure my girlfriend of a judge would be a bit biased over the contestants,” he pointed out. 

You hummed thoughtfully. “I mean, if he keeps looking this attractive while making food I think my bias is justified.”

He glanced at you perched on the counter top, and took a few steps in your direction, cupping your cheek in one hand to kiss you quickly. 

“You’re distracting me,” the first year mumbled, running a thumb over your jaw. “Quit being so cute, dummy.”

You saluted playfully. “Yes, chef.”

He let out a soft laugh before moving back to silence the timer that had started beeping, alerting him that the pork on the stove was ready to go. The blond shooed you away and had you sit at the dining table as he took the skillet and turned off the stove flames.

As you waited patiently for Bakugo to finish up, you sang under your breath and set two spots at the table directly across from each other. By the time he was done, two plates of steaming food in hand, you were already sitting down and twirling a fork between your fingers. 

“What did you end up making?” You asked as he set a plate of rice and pork in front of you. 

“Tonkatsu,” he replied nonchalantly. 

It smelled like absolute heaven, and your hunger was only emphasized in the midst of the fast food you had been surviving off of during quarantine. This boy was even good at presentation, and you began to wonder if he was just talented at everything he tried.

Bakugo took the spot across from you and watched as you took the first bite. He wouldn’t admit it, but he felt a bit nervous that you wouldn’t like what he made. But that thought dissipated as quickly as it came once your fork flew into the meal for a second time, and you shot him a wide-eyed look.

“So good!” you exclaimed with a stuffed face, a few grains of rice falling from your mouth and back onto the plate.

“Don’t speak with your mouth full or you’ll choke, stupid,” he reprimanded, but your praise had an evident effect on the male as a smug smile tugged at the corners of his mouth.

“I expect gourmet lunches from you at least once a week when school starts again.” 

“Not a chance in hell that I’m doing extra work in the mornings.”

“I’ll buy you all the ingredients you want~” 

“...I’ll think about it.”

Next thing you knew, all the food on your plate was gone, gladly relocated to your stomach. Rounding the table, you wrapped your arms around Bakugo’s shoulders as he also finished eating. 

“Thank you for dinner, Katsuki,” you hummed contentedly, resting your chin on his head. “It was seriously masterclass, especially after all the takeout I’ve been eating.” 

“Yeah, yeah, you’re welcome,” he waved it off. “I think a movie of my choosing is in order.”

“After we clean up, hot shot. Your mom would kill you if she realized someone was over.”

“Why wouldn’t she kill you too?”

“Please. Your mom loves me.”

The blond barked out a laugh before standing up and holding your waist, ushering you back to the kitchen. “True.”

Cleaning up was quick and easy with the both of you working together, stocking away dishes and remaining groceries. The evening sky, visible through a large window in the living room, glittered with stars as you sidled next to your boyfriend on the couch, the kitchen and dining room returned to its normal prestige.

“Katsuki?” you murmured, voice laced with a touch of contented sleepiness.

He turned his head from the television screen to face you. “Hm?” 

“I missed you, silly.” 

An arm was thrown around your shoulder and you were pulled closer to the male, who gently kissed your temple. 

“I missed you too, dummy.”

#bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugo #mha #mha headcanons #bnha imagines #bnha #katsuki bakugo headcanons #bakugo headcanons #bakugo imagine #bakugou x reader #katsuki bakugou #bakugou imagine #bnha fluff #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #fluff #imagines #boku no hero headcanons

[saysomethingspiderman]

Bravado

Synopsis: Keeping your relationship a secret for the last year had been a breeze. That was until you joined Tom on his Instagram live and pretty much gave the game away.

Warning: Brief mention of sex

The Marvel quiz had been an idea that’d been thrown around for weeks. Initially, Dom came up with doing some sort of quiz to slightly lighten the mood of lockdown. Then Tom mentioned making it Marvel related. That got the fans excited. You wanted to join in, of course you did, but having kept your whereabouts during lockdown a complete secret for the last two months, you knew it wouldn’t be wise to join in with Tom and his brother Harry and reveal the relationship you’d kept a secret for over a year now. Some days during the lockdown had felt near impossible to stay out of the way when you were sharing the house with three boys who weren’t shy about posting random videos on Instagram. But so far, no one suspected anything.

After a few technical difficulties, Tom managed to set the live up (albeit a little late) and you smiled to yourself from his bedroom upstairs at the sound of his laughter. Although you’d planned on making the most of your time alone by doing absolutely nothing, you couldn’t resist the temptation to watch the live you knew would be absolutely chaotic. Tom wasn’t the best with technology, especially when it came to Instagram. Would it be too cruel to call him an old man living in the body of a twenty-something? Cruel or not, it was true.

For the first few minutes you just kept quiet and didn’t send any messages. Instead, you took the time to grab some paper from one of Tom’s drawers and answer the questions. Despite dating one of the stars of the franchise, your Marvel knowledge was more than a little rusty. The only one you were confident you’d got correct was who the tallest in the MCU was and that was only because you knew for a fact that it wasn’t Tom; he was more towards the bottom of that list. You sent a message here and there but you knew Tom wouldn’t notice simply because of the amount of people sending their own messages to him, wanting desperately to get noticed. There were a few people who noticed you were watching; you’d grown a small following of your own from the odd time you appeared in photos with one of the boys. People were aware you were friends, but no one knew just how close you and Tom actually were.

Eventually, Tom and Harry got through the questions and wanted to invite people onto the live so they could go through the answers. It was sweet to see how people reacted to virtually meeting Tom. How did he handle people crying over him so professionally? Sometimes you forgot how much of a star Tom really was. To you, he was just the cocky boy you’d grown up with who often woke you way too early in the morning just for a cuddle. The fans didn’t know how sweet and romantic he was behind closed doors. What they knew was only what he allowed people to know.

The next section of questions were discussed and as the boys said goodbye to the fan, Tom started looking for someone else to join the live. A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips and you sent a few messages, requesting to go live with the boys.

“Okay, who we going live with next?” Tom asked mostly to himself as he scanned the hundreds of messages. When he spotted your name popping up a few times, he couldn’t hide the grin that lit up his face. “Let’s invite [Y/N]!”

Harry’s head shot up and he gave Tom a look he either chose to ignore or completely missed. What was he playing at? He knew you were in the house. Surely people would recognise the place? He gave Tom a light kick under the table but Tom had already sent you the invite, which you swiftly accepted.

After a few moments you connected and your slightly blurred face appeared at the bottom of the screen. You moved over to the other side of the room to try and get a better connection but kept the phone close to your face so people could only see very little of the room you were in.

“Well hello, boys,” you greeted with a soft chuckle and a lame wave.

“Hello, darling,” Tom replied smoothly, his attention now solely on you and not the hundreds of thousands of people watching. His grin grew and his eyes sparkled. He’d been away from you for barely an hour and even though you were in the room above, he still missed you. “You staying safe?”

“Yeah, I’m keeping as far away from everyone as I can,” you said with a shrug and sat down on the armchair Tom had in the corner of his room. “Everyone I’m staying with is doing my head in though.”

“What?” Tom snorted and Harry shook his head next to him, looking down to hide his smile. “Everyone?”

“Alright, I suppose there might be one person I can tolerate.”

“That’s more like it,” came his mumbled reply, making you laugh. He sat up a little straighter and ran a hand over his face as he grabbed the next question to go through. “I hope you’ve been getting involved in this quiz or I’ll be very disappointed.”

“You really think I’d miss watching you try and figure out how technology works?” you replied and raised an eyebrow. Reaching down, you grabbed the paper from the floor and held it up to the camera so he could see you’d at least tried.

“Half the answers are missing!” Harrison laughed from where he stood behind Tom and Harry with Tessa lying in his arms like a baby.

“Well I can’t be good at everything!”

“You’re good at the important things, darling,” Tom teased, grinning wickedly and gave a wink.

“Oh, of course you’d say that.”

The mention of your name in the comments a few times caught your eye and you took a quick scroll to see what people were saying. Most people were trying to get Tom’s attention but there were those who had noticed how easily the two of you got along. Were you flirting as much as people made out? Then you saw Tuwaine had decided to chime in because what else would he do other than stir the pot?

Tuwaine Are we going to find out the answers or should we all just leave you two alone?

Deciding to ignore the comments that blew up after Tuwaine’s input, you shook your head a little and held up your piece of paper again. “Right, Holland, are we going to go through these answers or what?”

Tom grabbed the question he’d abandoned at the side of the table and quickly gave it a read, then snorted to himself. He looked up and rubbed his hands together, as though he had something good cooking. “Alright, darling, if you get this wrong I’ll be hurt,” he said and held a hand over his heart. “This is the most important question. Alright, so who is the coolest superhero in the MCU?”

Leaning back in the chair, you pressed your fingers to your chin as you pretended to think. The answer was on your sheet surrounded by little drawings of hearts. “I suppose I’ll have to go with… Well, Spider-Man’s definitely the cutest. Oh, did you say coolest?” you asked and gave a slightly dramatic gasp over revealing such a thing. “The coolest I’d say is Captain America. Without a doubt.”

“What? Are you serious? There’s no way he’s the coolest!” Tom argued quickly and shook his head.

“I think you’ve just broke his heart, [Y/N],” Harry laughed and patted his brother’s shoulder gently.

“Oh I love him too much to do that,” you replied, joining in with his laughter. Harrison’s pause in the background and Harry’s slightly widened eyes went unnoticed as you just watched Tom’s face soften with a warm smile. “So I suppose I can say that Spider-Man’s the coolest too. And the cutest.”

“That’s the most important one, right?” Tom leaned closer to the camera, his whole face almost taking up the entire screen as he grinned away like a love-struck teenager.

Shrugging a shoulder, you said, “Cutest doesn’t mean anything. Tessa’s cute, doesn’t mean I want to see what’s underneath her Spidey suit.”

“Give me a time and a place, darling, and I’ll be there.”

His words surprised you. Had he forgotten you were on a live to nearly 200,000 people? Well, being honest, you’d forgotten too. In fact, you’d barely even paid attention to Harry and Harrison. It felt like just the two of you were on your regular FaceTime sessions while he was away working for days or weeks on end. More often than not, those video calls ended with a hand between your legs while Tom told you what to do. Luckily things hadn’t gone that far yet.

Even though you were aware of how many people were watching, you couldn’t let Tom win. You had to be brave. Leaning back against the chair, you let the shoulder of your cardigan slip from your shoulder.

“You better not be late, Tom. You know I don’t like to be kept waiting. If you’re late, you’ll have to make it up to me,” you said with a small sigh.

Tom licked his lower lip and raised a brow. His eyes scanned the skin you’d just exposed and couldn’t help thinking of how his head had been buried in the crook of your neck just that morning while he pounded away into you. “And you know I wouldn’t complain about that.”

Before you could even begin to think of what to say in response, Harry pulled Tom back and waved at the camera to bid you a sudden farewell. Harrison left the office giggling to himself. Tom straightened out his cap, his cheeks flushed as he gave a little wave goodbye. The connection ended and you just sat there grinning like a big idiot.

If people didn’t have their suspicions before, they definitely had them now.

Join my tag list!

Gif by @cosmicholland​

Taglist: @mrsjeffwittek​ @kthemarsian​ @gcldreinhart​ @ficklemcselfish​

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland fanfiction #tom holland one shot #tom holland imagine #tom holland x you #tom holland x reader #tom holland fic #tom holland blurd #marvel quiz #tom holland instagram #spiderman #spiderman fanfic #spiderman imagine #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman far from home #spiderman homecoming #peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #peter parker fanfiction #MCU #harry holland #harrison osterfield

[iamnightduchess]

WIP: Chills (T, Modern AU)

Summary:

A grieving mother finds herself confronting the shadows of her guilt, the long overdue failing of her marriage and memories of the one who could have been the moment they wheeled in an injured soldier from Marley straight into her operating room. The day she saved the life of Vice Commander Braun of Marley’s prized Titan unit was also the day he saved her own lost soul in return.

More often, memories may be lost forever but the heart never lies. He still makes shivers dance down her spine heading down to her feet just like he used to do twelve years ago and his heart still beats as hard for her the same way. Even when he can’t ever remember why. ReinerxMikasa. Modern + SnK HighSchool (Attack on High School Caste) AU.

Ship(s): Reiner x Mikasa (ReiKasa)

AU: Love Like This

-----

Snippet:

June 9, Present Year

Trost Military Hospital, Paradis

The sounds of her boots stepping hurriedly on the polished floors resonated against the clean, white walls of the hallways in hollowed echoes. A voice caught her dead in her tracks as soon as she turned into the corner leading into the more secluded operations wing of the hospital’s main building.

“Good afternoon, Dr. Jeager?” A young man, who seemed to be waiting anxiously near the entrance to the operating theatre DM05, approached her as soon as she came into his view. From his security tag and the embroidered emblem on his coat, it was very apparent that he is the personnel from Marley that she’s supposed to be liaising with on the emergency procedure she was called in for.

After quite some time, she casually corrected this stranger’s greeting underneath her breath. “It’s actually Dr. Ackerman now.”

“I’m sorry?” Perplexed, the man, still apologized for his potential blunder yet his tone remained polite despite the obvious confusion in his tone. “Also, I'm very sorry, I might have a misguided notion that the famous neurosurgeon in Paradis would be a--”

She turned her head to the side. “Some old, bearded guy with a bad sense of humor?” She couldn’t hold back the untimely humor laced with cynical sarcasm within her own voice.

She could see the other young man began to swallow a metaphorical knot nervously down his own throat and his trickling sweat didn’t help her observation either. “You’re not wrong actually. The original Dr. Jeager, my foster father, had been the famous one. Not me.”

“I’m sorry, Dr. Jeager, I mean Ackerman. I got confused.”

“No harm done.” Even she would be confused at her own status. She shook her head, dismissing her own earlier persistence in wanting to be addressed with her own maiden name again. A stranger doesn’t need to know her personal issues or the status of her marriage.

But she really needed to sort this shit out with the administration before more people get confused.

Nevertheless, she prompted for the attending personnel to continue his words.

“Thank you so much for scrubbing in. I’m Marcus Daniels, the attending physician for the patient. We apologize for this short notice but since it’s summer break, all of our neurosurgeons are away for volunteering or break. Rest assured, we have received the signed disclaimer from the patient’s next of kin, his mother, along with the referral from Marley’s Military Hospital. The paperwork has been received by the administration. We’re good to proceed with the emergency procedure.”

The raven-haired woman shook her head, disregarding the standard same ‘ole assurance from the Medical Officer who was tasked to accompany the Marleyan patient currently in between life and death on that table inside her Operation Theatre. Her patients’ lives take precedence before any incidents that could warrant a potential lawsuit. She gestured for the MO to follow suit as she put on the green scrubs and surgical cap available inside the prep room. “Walk with me, Daniels. Give me a brief of the patient. How long ago was the initial contact?”

“Male, 31, a military vet from Marley’s prized Special Ops Unit. The reported time of the initial impact was twelve hours ago. Patient’s BP is stable, X-ray did not display any shrapnels, bullet’s still in one piece but the bleeding unfortunately, had begun to spread to the patient’s medial temporal lobe since six hours ago….and...well….”

They stopped short just in front of the door that leads to the main wash area of the operating room. Her nose picked up the overwhelming scent of industrial disinfectant coming from behind that door. Her eyes leered back at the MO, her forehead creased in reaction to the other man’s trailing words. She did not like that tone or even the single last word of his sentence at all. “What is it?”

“Ma’am, the First Response team had to perform an emergency resuscitation and this could not be just an on-site training incident. There was an excessive amount of Paxil together with alcohol from the patient’s digestive tract. Patient was under the influence right before he went in to support the unit’s rookie training. Bloodwork confirmed this.” The young man, who looked like he’s only several years younger than she is, could only shook his head in absolute empathy.

Paxil and liquor are a deadly mix. The patient must have been aware of his own prescriptions. There was an immediate flash of concern upon her face before she pressed for a confirmation to her impulsive suspicion; asking, “C-PTSD? ‘Intentional’ incident?” She couldn’t possibly be discreet if she’s dealing with more than just the life of a war veteran on the line. An unstable patient with self-harming tendencies requires a much delicate approach especially if the injuries sustained by the patient would require a full invasive craniotomy to stop the source of bleeding from the bullet.

The MO shook his head in return. “We can’t rule that out or in yet without looking into the patient’s psych eval records. Those files are sealed by the Psychiatric unit in Marley, Dr. Jea-Ackerman. We’d need a referral from your Psychiatrist here to access those files after for the patient's recovery.”

“There’s no time to waste then.” There was a short pause in her words as she pressed a digital button on the room’s intercom system. “Nurse Rheinberger, Dr. Ackerman in OT-DM05. Code Blue. Requesting assistance to page Dr. Ian Dietrich, Psychiatry to support emergency neurosurgery a.s.ap. Over.”

She turned her head back to the young MO and inquired as a formality, even though she was very aware that the patient had been placed under anesthesia. “Patient’s name?”

“Uhm…” Daniels flipped open the paper folder in his hands and read the patient’s name out loud. “Braun, Reiner.”

She stopped dead in her tracks, her heart skipped not one but two immediate beats and she could feel it hitting hard against her chest. “Come again?”

“Reiner Braun, Dr. Ackerman. No middle name.”

There are a lot of people with the same name. “Birthdate?” It’s just not possible.

“August 1, 19xx.”

Her hands stood frozen against the door of the operation theater. From where she stood, she could see the motionless body hooked on multiple wires connecting to a life support system on top of her operation table from between the clear glass screens.

“Doctor?”

She looked back at the other man but not before blinking back the shock-induced tears gathered inside her eyelids. “Please get Dr. Dietrich here. Now. It would be against my protocol to operate on a patient with past or existing personal attachments without a senior physician’s supervision.”

“You know the patient?”

“Yes…He was...” Her words trailed unfinished, which only roused the other person’s curiosity although it was none of his business. “Just go. NOW.”

“Sorry, sorry!” The man quickly disappeared behind the main door in a flash leaving her behind with a much needed space and air to breathe.

Oh my God, Reiner. What happened to you?

She rushed towards the faucet and hurriedly splashed her face with the cold water just so she could hide the stubborn tears already running down her cheeks.

Out of all the times, why now? Why here? Why do their paths cross again after six years - with him; his life barely hanging on a thread right now on her very own operating table?

She can’t fuck this up. Never had she ever did before, but never had she ever performed a procedure on someone she personally knew. There are just too many reasons why and too little time for her to be caught in another mulling.

#WIP Wednesday #AO3 fic #Chills #by NightDuchess #snk fic #aot fic #modern au #ReiKasa #reiner x mikasa #reiner braun #mikasa ackerman #ReiKasa fic #ReiKasa Modern AU

[always-against-the-grain]

thirds

Summary: You invite Negan over for dinner when your parents are out of town. Continuation of party favor

Pairing: AU Negan x reader (female, named Eddie)

Tags: AU Negan, Negan smut, Negan x reader, rough-ish smut

A/N: no proof read. we die like men

“Oh, fuck” you complained to no one, feeling your muscle soreness settling in as you hopped off your fathers SUV.

You had just come back from the gym and were excited to have the house to yourself. Your folks left town for your mother’s work and you had your whole night planned, get a stoned, eat some lasagna your mom pre-made for you, shower, smoke some more, watch some stand-up, and rub one out.

As you walked towards your front door you heard the faint clinking noises, accompanied by soft rock music; noticing Negan’s half open garage, beaming white light escaping onto the gray pavement.

You entered your home and read the note on the counter:

Eddie,

Your dad and I left for my work trip (that free loader). Left some lasagna in the fridge. 375 45 min.

Love you,

mom (and dad)

DONT USE THE GARBAGE DISPOSAL. Negan will take a look tomorrow at 9am, so please be up to let him in and get coffee going.

Knowing Negan was going to be in your home soon brought tingles to your insides. Reminiscing on how you fucked you in the bathroom a little over a week ago.Your memories aroused you, but frustrated you as well, remembering how he toyed with you that firework infused night.

You snapped yourself out of it and began setting the oven when the door bell rang.

You walked over an peeked through the side window.

Negan?

You opened the door and without a proper greeting you asked, “Um, weren’t you supposed to come by tomorrow?”

“Well hello to you too” Negan commented on your weak hospitality.

“And yeah, for the sink... I’m just here to let you know you left your headlights on” he informed you, tilting his head to the direction of the driveway.

“You couldn’t call?” You questioned his motives for being at your doorstep.

Not that you wouldn’t fuck him over and over, but you wanted to be the one to initiate that. He wasn’t gonna control the situation this time.

“Your folks got rid of the landline.”

That comment served as a potent reminder that you hadn’t physically lived in that house other than school intermissions, and that you didn’t know that much about Negan regardless of how good friends he and your parents were.

“And I don’t have your number, cause that would be inappropriate” He added with a smirk, knowing you were miles past appropriateness.

“Funny” you commented on his response in a dead-panned tone.

You reached for the keys on their respective hook on the wall and walked out towards the car, Negan followed behind. You unlocked it and reached your arm in to switch the lights off.

You shut the car door, noticing Negan was cutting through the lawn, half way towards his front door.

Having already gotten you slice of Negan you couldn’t resist him. Flashes of what tonight could potentially lead to infiltrated your mind.

Fuck

“Hey!” you called out to him.

Negan stopped in his tracks and turned his head towards you.

“You like lasagna?”

He paused in thought for a moment.

Should he enter your home without your parents? What if a neighbor saw? What would they think?

“Is it your mothers or that frozen shit?”

“It’s a Frankie original”

“Fuck. Alright” he was easily convinced.

Your mom did make a mean lasagna.

You set the prepared lasagna on the counter as you continued to wait for the oven to heat.

“You can take a hit of that if you want” you gestured towards the packed glass pipe and lighter sitting at the edge of the bar countertop.

“This what you always do when your parents aren't around?” He asked, reaching for the pipe.

“Smoke? Or invite not-age-appropriate men over?” You teased.

“Both” he said as he struggled with the lighter.

Spark after spark with no flame.

“I think that ones out. Let me get another” you skipped upstairs to your room.

Negan waited patiently, flipping through his phone. He noticed some leftover oil and grim on his fingers and got up to wash his hands. While you were in ransacking your drawers, your phone rang downstairs.

Negan let the first call go, but when the second call came he peaked over, concerned it was one of your parents needing to get a hold of you.

He was thrown off by the name on the screen.

Myles

“Found one” you said coming down the steps, Negan in the middle of drying his hands.

“Here” you handed it to him feeling the dampness on his fingers.

“Thanks doll. Your phone rang by the way” He let you know as he sat back down on one of the stools.

Negan took a couple hits as you opened up your phone and typing a quick message before setting it down.

Negans curiosity quickly unraveled.

“So whose Myles?” Negan asked, smoke exiting along with his words, “Myles with a Y...”

“Um. He is.. he’s my.. boyfriend” you said awlwardly, knowing how fucked up it sounded.

“If he’s your boyfriend, why the hell did you sleep with me. Twice for that matter” Negan questioned, almost interrogating you

“One, don’t come at me like that,” your defenses riding

“Two, it’s not like I’m doing anything he’s not already doing” you replied, taking a hit.

“Shit really? How do you know?”

“We were on a date one night, it was a normal day” you spoke holding your breathe and smoke in.

“and- and I don’t know, I looked at him, and I just knew.” Your voice becoming clearer as the white clouds left your body.

Woman’s intuition, Negan thought to himself. Reflecting on his own past.

“And his messages proved it so, there’s that” you added.

“Shit I’m sorry doll” Negan empathized, taking the pipe for his turn.

“It’s okay...” you said, a bit of sadness painting over your face.

“...you’ve help me get over it quite a bit” your voice lightening up, trying to keep yourself from getting down.

“Does he know you know?” he asked sparking another hit.

“Nah, not yet.”

“Why haven’t you told him? Hoping to work it out?” Smoke blowing from his lips

“Fuck no!” you laughed

“I didn’t confront him about it cause it was right before summer, he’s abroad, I’m doing an internship here. Would’ve been really stressful dealing with a break up right now.”

“But that a bridge we’ll cross when we get there, in the mean time I’m just gonna dick around” you said nonchalantly as you reached for the pipe once more, intentionally grazing his hand half a second slower.

Your final hit closed the conversation on your relationship.

You set the pipe down, free for Negan to grab if he’d like to continue.

“Okay, what about you? What’s your is deal, what do you do around here?” You guided the conversation towards his occupation, rather than his love life, worried that that information might put you off.

Negan grabbed the pipe.

“I teach” he said before taking a puff.

“You teach? You? A cigarette smoking, beer drinking, motorcycle driving, bachelor?” You busted his balls

“First of all honey, there’s not a wrong way to live a life. And secondly, I know I’m not perfect. Hell, I’m light years from perfect, but I am proud of what I do. I’m a good ass teacher, I make these kids find awe in bi-fucking-ology .”

“Biology? I’m sorry, but this is wild! I didn’t expect you do me a science geek.” You were actually intrigued, “How’d you get into teaching?”

“Well, I did my undergrad degree in biology. And I TA-ed a course and I realized I really liked teaching so after graduation I went ahead and got my Master’s in education.”

“Wait, I thought you coached”? You jumped to the next question

“I do that too. I teach 4 classes, 2 intro bios, 1 ap bio, and one health period. Then coach after school”

”What do you coach?”

“Coach women's basketball in the winter, and help out with baseball in the spring.”

“I’m guessing you like it? You seem very passionate.”

”I love this teaching shit. Plus, I’m someone these kids can talk to, someone who can guide them and be raw-fully honest about anything- I don’t patronize these kids. I get to be the person I needed at their age, it’s a sweet gig” He couldn’t help the smile spreading on his face

This conversation fine tuned your image of Negan. You found yourself lost in the dichotomy of it all. Here he was, shirt covered in black oil stains, smoking weed, cursing, yet vulnerable, gentleness peaking through his macho-ness.

Beep

You walked over to lay the lasagna on the rack. Negan admiring your ass as you bent over. He stared for as long as he could. Blood flowing to his manhood.

“So, we got 45 minutes to kill” you closed the oven and walked around the counter towards him.

Your hands went towards his knee cap, pushing his leg out to fit your stature between his seated figure.

“What can Coach Negan teach me in that time?” you whispered as your lips gravitated towards his.

You wantonly kissed him. Sliding your tongue in his mouth to wrestle with his. His hands firmly cupped your ass, pulling you closer to him.

“There she is.” He applauded, as you tugged on his lower lip.

“I was waiting for your dirty side to come out and play” he said, knotting his fingers through your hair that was in a post-work-out messy bun.

You tried to bring your mouth back to his and you got close, but his firm grip held you back.

“Uh-huh” he said, barely audible.

Negan stuck his tongue out slightly, leaning towards you. Your lips were ready to welcome him, before he sprung back.

“Fucker” You let out a sigh that was between a laugh and utter frustration.

He toward over you, staring at you lustfully.

He had you desperate for more. Negan felt your try to fight against his grasp again.

“You lack patience” He informed you, keeping you away from him.

“And you’re a tease” You immediately shot back at him

He closed his fist further, the taut strands pulling on your scalp, “I’m not a tease. I just know what you can handle.”

“I don’t think you do” You were up for the challenge.

“Oh, honey” He smirked doubtfully.

Butterflies flooded your gut, tingles shot across your upper back. You were nervous, but gave him no indication of that, so he figured he’d teach you lesson, put you in your place.

“Other than the word ‘stop’ is gonna make me stop. Are you okay with that?”

“Yes” You answered attempting to kiss I’m once more.

Negan kept a tight grip of you hair, but allowed you to bring your mouth to his.

He brought his other hand to your clothed center. Pulling his lips away to see your reaction.

Breathily moans began spilling out of you. Your eyes fluttering shut, focusing on his touch.

He stopped his maneuvers, “Look at me”

Once you opened your eyes and locked with his he resumed to pleasure you.

He stood up, hands still wrapped in your hair and on your womanhood. He kept you neck extended, staring into your eyes as you both stumbled toward the living room couch. His eyes told you he was excited to show you what you had not yet experienced.

He gave your final rubs before as you arrived to the L-shaped couch.

You began undressing other other. As each item of clothing disappeared you found new areas to grope each other.

“Oh fuck,” he mumbled as you reached for his heavy member, pumping him slowly.

Negan grabbed the sides of your jaw, giving you a nasty kisses before directing you in a face down position. He placed you on your knees, your rear directed upwards. The feeling the cool air gust over your wet center gave you shivers.

He lightly tapped your clit with his dick. He did that multiple times before sliding it between your folds, lubricating himself with your fluids.

“Ugh Negan... fuck” you mewled

You started to lean back into him, wanting more contact. Negan didn’t appreciate it that. He held your hip tightly with his other hand as he teased you for what felt like hours. He eventually stuck the tip of his cock inside you and sat still.

You knew if you moved he would make you wait longer. You decided to be patient and let him make the call. Admitting to yourself that he took the wheel form you once more.

Once you’re breathing settled, Negan stuck the entire length of his member in one motion, accompanied by a load groan.

“Oh fuck” you yelled as your entrance stretched around him.

Negan brought his hand to the side of your face to hold you down. You felt your check rub harsher against the couch cushion as he built up speed. The sound of his balls slapping against your wet pussy filled the family room.

His thrusts were euphoric and dominating. He was punishing you and wanted you to enjoy it.

In between his plunges you were able to catch a whiff of his cologne with his natural musk sprinkled in. That scent did something primal to you.

Your felt your release was close.

“Ne-, I’m- I’m” you started to inform him.

He began to force himself harder and deeper. You couldn’t keep your position, your pelvis dropped, your leg fell of the edge, squirming and kicking.

“Mmmmm!! Fuck!” Your toes splayed as your climax enveloped you.

You thought Negan would slow down after cumming that hard, but he kept pushing into your prone body at the same pace. Your hand reached back to brace his quad, hoping to diminish his thrusts.

Negan roughly gripped the hand that was trying to stop him and pinned it over your head, his long torso over your back, closing the space between you.

His hips continued to drive into you as he growled in your ear, , “This is what punching above you’re weight class is baby.”

You began moaning, not you’re typical moans though. The sounds escaping you sounded like a porno. If you heard a voice recording of this moment you would swear it was staged

Groans bubbled and escaped Negan as he felt his release building.

He clenched your hair and pulled out of you. You were relieved as you were becoming over sensitive.

He brought his member over your face, holding your head down onto the cushions.

His manhood hovered over you, swiftly pumping himself.

“ughhh” You heard his as his warm milky seed splattered on the side of your face.

He was breathing fast and heavy after his release. He used his member to scoop some of his cum from your cheek and brought it into your mouth.

“Dirty girl” he smiled as welcomed his cock, and sucked tenderly on his bulbous head, extracting all of him.

Afterwards Negan helped you sit up.

He picked up your shirt from the ground and handed it to you to wipe your face.

“Thanks” you said weakly, yet satisfied.

He sat beside you. Hand grazing your thigh, slowly working towards your center, as you rid your face of his seed.

The instant his finger touched you nerve bundle, you jolted away from him, lightly swatting his hand away.

“You okay?” He chuckled, stopping his movements but pulling you back close to him.

“Yeah” you answered “It was just a lot, but it was really good”

“Are you gonna listen to me now? When I say what you can handle and what you can’t?”

“Yeah”

He stared at you, wanted a different answer.

You know that look. It was the ‘yeah’-is-not-an-answer look, given to you by your own coaches.

“Yes” you said clear and respectfully.

“Good” He brought his lips to yours, slipping his tongue through.

Your make out session was interrupted by the oven.

Beep

“Let’s eat” He said.

____________________

After dinner you both hopped in the shower. You had sex again. And he was much slower and gentle in that second round.

Negan sat the edge of your bed, towel around his waist. He looked around your room, while you found something suitable for him to wear.

Half of your room was neat and well put together. The other half looked like an artists went on a bender. The wall and ground were littered with your drawings and ongoing project ideas.

“Here” you handed him unisex navy blue tee and sweats, “Let me know if they fit or not.”

You went back to your dresser to dress yourself in a Nike long sleeve and compression shorts

“How’d that work out?” You asked facing away from him.

“Take a look” He said waiting for you to see what was wrong.

You turned around and didn’t see anything fit too tight or too loose. Then you noticed the sweats were well above his ankles

You burst out laughing “Never thought I’d see you in capris“

“They fit around the waist, that’s what matters” He laughed

You both went back downstairs. Drank beer and played the stand up you had planned on watching. You both sat close to each other, in the very spot you had fucked earlier.

Mid-way Negan interrupted the special, “Hey, when do you head back to school?”

“Two weeks. We’re gonna have a little party. I’m sure my folks will invite you. Why do you ask?”

“Just wondering” he said, but he really was plotting your farewell gift.

#negan x oc #negan x reader #negan #negan smut #Negan's thirst squad

[thescatterbrainedwriter]

Just Some Coffee

After finally getting her dad to open up about her mom, Jessie notes Emily seems to like his company and suggests he take her out for coffee or something to talk

Word count: 2,993

Warnings: none, just some fluff

Flash Fanfic

**Note: at this point in time, none of team Flash know what Estrata’s real name is. Estrata = Emily. Also, Emily is my personal character. I just like to stick her in places 😅 Enjoy!! 🥔 🎨

———

Harry didn’t want to do it. He was already on good terms with team Flash, he even became friends with Cecile. How much more socializing was he supposed to do anyway? This never would have happened on Earth 2, he had his lab he could hide in whenever he wanted. He was actually starting to miss the days where people left him alone because they were afraid of him. ’She seems to genuinely enjoy your company,’ Jessies voice repeated in his head. ’I think she might actually like you.’ Henry growled in irritation as the sentences played on loop. He didn’t want to admit it but, since she would often sit quietly in the corner of whatever lab he worked in, he didn’t mind her company either. At least she knew how to be quiet and her occasional inputs were actually pretty helpful. He growled to himself again, standing in the middle of Cisco’s lab having no where else to really wander to once Jessie left for Earth 3, trying to get back into the mindset of working on the Thinker problem but couldn’t quite do so. He couldn’t tell if it was from the mishap with the thinking cap he built or the suggestion Jessie made beginning to worm its way into ‘good idea’ territory. With a huff he decided to do something about it and nearly stormed out of the lab in frustration.

Making his way into the cortex he found everyone enjoying some down time doing mundane tasks on the computer or looking over data sheets. Emily was sitting at one of the desks with her usual holoscreen up reading something. He couldn’t tell what it was but it didn’t matter, he had a question and only she could answer it. So he strode over and stood awkwardly stiff just outside of her peripheral. Emily glanced up having felt his approach and smiled. “Oh, hey Harry,” she greeted before looking back to her screen. “Hey, hi,” he said rather forced. She continued looking at her screen for a moment, Harry still standing there, before she looked back at him with a curious face having not felt or heard him leave. “Can I.... help you?” She asked, Cisco and Ralph observing in curiosity and amusement.

“No, well, yes,” Harry stuttered. “I suppose, suppose it depends on your answer. Anyway...” Emily cocked an eyebrow turning her full attention to him sitting up straighter from her slouched position over the desk and now everyone else was beginning to quietly observe what was going on. Harry paused suddenly unsure if he should go through with his question or just bail to return to Cisco’s lab to sulk as usual. “Would you... want to go for some coffee?” he asked sounding somewhat constipated. Now it was Emily’s turn to freeze at the unexpected question. Cisco got a really amused smile on his face also not expecting this and eagerly anticipated the conclusion as did Iris, who had been sitting at a computer, and Ralph.

“What?” Emily asked with a confused chuckle.

“Coffee,” Harry repeated. “Did you want to get coffee?” She blinked still processing the question making him more uncomfortable than he already was. “Jessie.... suggested it....” he added. “For socializing purposes. I guess.”

“Yeah, ok,” she agrees with a smile. Harry continued standing stiffly for a moment not quite knowing what to do now. “Good. Great. Ok,” he said before turning and beginning to leave.

“Hey wait! Harry!” Emily called making him stop and turn around again. “You never told me when,” she said still smiling.

“When what?” Harry asked oblivious.

“When you wanted to get coffee,” she replied with a little sigh. “You wanna go now? Later? Tomorrow?”

“Now is fine. Does it work for you?” He asks.

She grins again, a little wider, reaching a hand toward the holoscreen still open on the desk and makes a fist closing it. “Yeah, that works,” she agrees standing. With out much of a nod he turns around again and briskly walks toward the exit, Emily trying to keep up, while everyone watches them leave with amused smiles. Her drones Medi and GP float behind talking amongst themselves.

“Are they going on a date or something?” Medi asks. “Looks like it?” GP confirms. “Should we follow to watch?” Medi asks uncharacteristically mischievously. “Definitely!” GP agrees enthusiastically.

“You will not,” Emily scolds turning around just before leaving and pointing at them.

“Can’t stop us,” GP taunts.

“Oh yeah? Steadfast Protocol,” she ordered. Medi and GP groan in disappointment as the protocol initiates preventing them from leaving S.T.A.R. Labs property. Emily smiles triumphantly turning back round to follow Harry to Jitters. She vaguely heard the drones trying to beg Tinker, her third drone who had moseyed over and was not under the protocol, to follow them on their date and Tinker refusing as he wasn’t interested in their stalking activities.

——

Unacceptable. Simply unacceptable, Harry thought to himself as they walked. How is she so amicable? We’ve been talking about nothing in particular and it’s been.... nice? Not in the least bit annoying? They opted to walk to Jitters and in their awkwardness, had begun making small talk about nothing really in particular. It only took a few minutes to arrive and Harry opened the door for Emily then chose a two seat table toward the back of the shop sitting awkwardly in silence. Emily was somewhat amused by his odd behavior, she had never seen him act like this before, and just studied him sitting in the seat directly across from him. Shortly after they seated themselves, a barista came over to take their order. “Hi,” she said with a smile. “Welcome to Jitters. What can I get you?” Harry’s head turned so fast to her out of surprise Emily thought he may have snapped his neck. “Just a regular coffee, black,” he said.

“And I think I’ll have a hot French Vanilla, small, just cream please,” Emily added with a smile. The girl nods before heading off to fulfill the requests. More silence with Harry staring everywhere but in front of him amusing Emily some more. “So....” she says trying to garner his attention, “what do you wanna talk about now?” Harry finally looks her in the eye looking like he suddenly became constipated and couldn’t talk. “I think you should pick the topic,” he deflected. “I invited you out after all.”

Emily got a mischievous idea and shook her head. “No, it’s ok. You pick.”

“No, I really think you should,” Harry insisted. “I don’t have anything interesting to talk about.”

“Well, what topics do you have to talk about?”

“Well.... mostly science stuff.... technical things.... You know, not interesting things.” Harry attempted deflecting. Just then the barista came back to deliver their drinks. “Oh, thank you!” Emily said with a bright smile. “No problem!” the barista smiled back. “Let us know if you need anything else alright?” Harry nodded and she walked off back behind the counter to help other customers.

“Oh, I don’t mind listening to those things,” Emily said getting back on topic. “Friend of mine would go on and on about the things he made and going into detail about his mechanical and engineering feats. Even discussed coding and programming.”

“Really?” Harry asked incredulously.

“Mhmm,” she confirmed nodding her head looking into her coffee. “You know my drones right?”

“Yeah?”

“He helped me make them,” she smiled. “I came up with the concept, he helped me fabricate the parts and program them and told me how to fix them if I ever needed to. Now I can do their maintenance and any upgrades blindfolded.” She leaned her head against her hand while leaning over her side of the table. Harry blinked in impressed disbelief. “I was also the one who programmed their personalities in,” Emily added running her finger around the rim of her cup.

“That.... doesn’t surprise me,” Harry commented.

“What’s that supposed to mean??”

“Just that, well, they seem like different parts of your core personality,” he explained casually before sipping his coffee. Emily squinted suspiciously at him. “Explain.”

“Well, Tinker is your creative, GP your inquisitive, and Medi your protective.” Emily looked at him thoughtfully and was surprised he picked up anything like that about anyone, least of all her. “That, and they’re a touch annoying,” he concluded.

“Yeah, they are huh?” Emily agreed staring off into space reminiscing about their usual hi-jinx. Harry raised his eyebrows curiously. “You’re... not going to protest that?”

“Nah,” she dismissed casually. “I’m fully aware I can be really very annoying. I just have a hard time turning it off sometimes,” she said sitting up and finally drinking some of her coffee. “Well at least you can acknowledge it,” he said amused.

“Of course! I did make it a mission of mine back home after all,” she grinned. Harry couldn’t help but chuckle and sipped his coffee again. “So, why don’t you choose a topic to change to,” Emily proposed. He shook is head in response. “No, I told you. I don’t have anything interesting to talk about. Jessie and even Cisco could tell you that I’m... well... long-winded.” Her face soften and she smiled thoughtfully. “Hmm, ok, theeeeeen.... tell me about quarks?” He looked at her puzzled. “You..... want to know about.... quarks? Really?”

“Well, maybe not but. You know about quarks, and I don’t really know about quarks, so talking about quarks would probably be a good place to start,” Emily half rambled before sipping her coffee and trying to look innocent. Harry just looked suspiciously at her trying to figure out if she was serious or not. “What?” She asked noticing his staring. “I may be primarily geared toward entertainment but I still like learning about this stuff too.” He just sighed in amusement. “Ok, alright. Fine. I’ll talk about quarks,” he relented lighting up Emily’s face in anticipation. He felt weird noting it had been a while since he felt something similar; back when Jessie was a kid he would sometimes talk about scientific principles to her even when she couldn’t understand what he was saying. He was pretty sure he explained atoms to her when he fed her that mush trying to pass as baby food. Whenever Jessie asked about something science related he was always happy to over explain. “So, a quark is a type of elementary particle and a fundamental constituent of matter,” he began. “Quarks combine to form composite particles called hadrons, you probably know them better as protons and neutrons.” Emily settled in and sipped on her coffee quite invested in his epic monologue.

——

He had no idea how long he had been lecturing but eventually Harry became aware of how much time had passed. Their coffees had long since gotten cold or finished, the light outside was not as brilliant, and the place had gotten noticeably more quiet. Emily was still very much invested in what he was saying and would occasionally glance at passing customers, so when he wound down his topic she became a bit unhappy. “Eh, so nanotechnology can have more practical applications in medicine and general sciences than, well, making Barry’s suit more portable,” he concluded. Finally giving Emily more than a fleeting thought, he realized she was still waiting for him to say something else. “Ah, it’s getting late. I didn’t realize I rambled so long, sorry.” She smiled a little straightening her posture with a deep sigh.”oh no, no need to apologize. I really enjoyed listening to you.”

“Really?” Harry asked not really believing her. “Mhmm,” she nodded in confirmation. “You light up when you loose yourself in your knowledge and go head first into explaining you passion projects.” Harry just stared not sure how to respond. She stood grabbing her long empty cup and stretching. “You should smile more you know. You have a nice smile.” He stiffened at the unexpected compliment making Emily smile in amusement before she headed toward a near by trash can. “Should probably get back now, don’t you think?”

“Hem, yeah. Yeah we.... should,” Harry agreed standing quickly and grabbed his cup to toss out. Smiling awkwardly he ushers her out and back to the lab.

——

It was relatively late when they got back, sun was getting really low but twilight was still holding onto the sky in defiance of the night. They continued to make small talk, pauses between topics becoming longer and longer as they began running out of things to say, but Emily noticed a bit of difference in is speech patterns. He seemed to be deliberating on what to say next for longer periods than usual. Before she could ask about it, they rounded the corner into the cortex where Cisco and Caitlyn were still around. “Oh hey guys,” Caitlyn greeted with a smile.

“Soo,” Cisco stared turning around in his chair. Emily lifted an eyebrow in preparation for whatever he was about to say. She could tell by his tone it was going to be something tease-y too. “How was your coffee date?”

“It.... wasn’t a date...” Harry tried denying.

“It was... kind of a date,” Caitlyn agreed. Harry looked at Emily for help but she just nodded making the ‘little’ hand gesture. “It was very nice,” Emily continued looking around Harry to Cisco.

“It wasn’t a date!” Harry denied again a bit more frustratedly. “We just went for coffee! We socialized!”

“Coffee can be a date,” Cisco challenged.

“Well, doesn’t always have to be a date date,” Emily countered trying to defend Harry at least a little bit. “Coffee dates can be among friends and colleagues too just to talk or something.” Harry pointed at her turning to face Cisco as if to say ‘yeah see?’. “Besides, we talked about quarks, quantum mechanics, astrophysics.... he even went into detail about what the pipeline does.”

“Ok yeah, definitely not a date,” Cisco relented.

“That’s what— been trying to tell you!”

“Alright, we’re sorry Harry,” Caitlyn apologized. “Just teasing you a bit. That’s all.”

“Well, regardless, I had fun,” Emily semi-teased smiling up at Harry. He just looked down at her unamused and unable to think of a rebuttal. He just huffed and turned to leave. Turning her attention back to Cisco and Caitlyn, Emily just smiled cheekily. “You guys gonna head out?”

“Yeah, we were waiting for you guys to come back so you could tell us all about your experience,” Cisco said standing to stretch. “But it sounds like nothing happened really.”

“Well, he was pretty awkward, didn’t really have much to say other than going on and on about sciences,” Emily explained. “But, I didn’t mind.”

“You.... actually like that stuff?” Cisco asked. “You never really seemed like the science type. Not like us anyway.”

“Yeah, funny thing. Some of the things I can do require a basic knowledge of science. Haven’t had much opportunity to learn the more complicated stuff so it was nice to have someone talk enthusiastically about it.”

“Well I’m sure you made him very happy listening to him,” Caitlyn concluded picking up her things preparing to leave. “Have a good night, Estrata.”

“You too Caitlyn,” Emily returned.

“Sooo, Estrata,” Cisco started sauntering over to her. Emily sighed smiling a little at him wondering what he would go on about now. “Did you actually have a good time?” Emily just looked at him sighing again. “C’mon, you can tell me the truth. Was it really horrible?”

“Cisco...” Emily said placing a hand on his shoulder. “It was fun, honestly, I had a good time.”

“Hmmm, yeah. Ok,” he dismissed not fully believing her. “See you tomorrow. You and Harry behave now,” he teased pointing at her as he left. Emily just left him with a highly unamused look. “Goodniiiiight Cisco.” He just smiled smugly as he left leaving Emily in the cortex. Flicking her hand in a downward gesture, like one would do flipping off a light, the lights went out as she left the room herself. Wandering the halls making sure everything was set for the night, she found herself drifting off into thought and nearly collided with Harry. “Oh! I’m sorry!” She squeaked taking a quick step back. “Lost in my own head, didn’t see you.”

“What are you doing?” He asked kind of sternly.

“I’m.... uh.... locking up for the night? I was just about to go downstairs to check everything before heading to bed.”

“Ok,” he replied flatly. Emily stood there staring at him wondering if he would say something else, and he seemed to do the same before making a move to turn away. “Hey wait, I have a question,” she piped up. “What?” He asked turning around again. “I, uhm, noticed you seem to pause, a lot more often than you used to. Which was basically never.”

“....And?”

“You didn’t.... use dark matter with your thinking cap.... did you?” Emily asked nervously causing Harry to pause. “Because that would probably be a bad idea. Especially after you told Cisco you wo—“

“I didn’t,” Harry interjected. Emily paused studying his face. “Ok,” she said dropping the conversation. “Ok, I’m gonna go, do a once over downstairs and theeennnn.... go to bed.”

“Ok,” Harry said nodding.

“If you need anything you, know where to find me,” Emily stated turning away to head down the hall. “Yup,” Harry replied flatly again turning to go his separate way. “Oh, by the way!” Emily turned around walking backwards down the hall now. “Thanks for coffee!” She smiled wide turning around again disappearing around a corner. Harry stood for a moment watching her go before cracking a smirk. Dangerously charming, he thought continuing on his way. Not the worst thing I suppose.

————————••••••••————————

~Fin~

#flash fiction #the flash #harry wells #harrison wells #barry allen #fan fiction #my ocs #funny #cisco ramon #oc x canon

[mercurryblack]

Chapter 3: Cait

Shakes wait for nobody, unless it’s a murder case.

❃❃❃

“Haah… haah… haah… haaww, crap.”

Despite her best efforts, Lillian had been unable to catch up with her teammates, not least with the lead they had gained on her. She was far from lacking in stamina or fleetness of foot, but in the several minutes she had spent talking with Rudyard, the rest of her team had been too far ahead of her for any chance of overtaking them.

It had taken her nearly ten minutes to reach the restaurant even at a full sprint, and she was winded and sweating buckets by the time she arrived. Looking up through one of the restaurant’s bay windows, she caught a glimpse of Cait, Harriet, and Amaryllis, already seated in a booth and each enjoying a tall milkshake.

“Why, funny meeting you here, Lilly!” Cait grinned widely at their leader, as she dragged her feet in through the front doors. “These drinks are ten Lien each, thank you in advance~!”

Lillian groaned, shaking her head in exasperation as she tiredly walked over to the cashier to pay for her teammates’ shakes, including one for herself. “And there goes forty Lien down the drain…” she grumbled.

Amaryllis giggled. “Our leader’s so generous. We should do this sort of thing more often.”

Lillian glowered at her sister as she slid into the booth seat next to Cait, across from Amaryllis. “Yeah, sure.” She darkly muttered under her breath. “If you wanted a milkshake, Am, all you’d need to do is wring out your fat—”

Hattie cringed, not wanting the two to start squabbling lest their argument end up affecting her through her Semblance. Feeling others’ emotions had its uses, sure, but it could be such a pain sometimes.

Turning to her raven-haired teammate, she loudly cut off Lillian’s retort, “SOOOoooo… Cait… how ya’ doing?”

Cait shook their head and gestured a shrug with their free hand. “Truth be told, it’s so boring around here. I wish the Vytal Festival would come sooner, so all of us could have some fun.” they complained. “There’s only so much I can take of watching Lilly and ol’ Rudyard smack each other around before it stops being entertaining.”

Their remark wasn’t just their own sentiment, either— many of the Haven juniors didn’t see much excitement inside or outside the Academy. They were smack in the middle ground, stuck right between the freshmen and sophomores who were still figuring out life as a Huntsman, and the seniors who had the ability to undertake official Huntsman-level missions (on provisional licenses, nonetheless.) On days like these, there wasn’t a lot to look out for aside from the Vytal Festival, which had left the juniors even more antsy than usual.

“I wonder if we could join the senior school trips. I heard through the grapevine that the last batch almost didn’t make it back alive.” they joked.

“Wow, that sure sounds fun,” Amaryllis said sarcastically.

Cait smirked in response. “Oh, c’mon, Am,” they drawled, sarcasm evident in their tone. “The adventure’s calling out to us. Aren’t you also bored of sitting here all day, when we could be out there fighting Grimm and the dregs of humanity?” They sat up straight, jestingly pumping a fist halfway in the air with every sentence they finished.

“Yeah! Fighting!” Hattie stood up with them, playing along with Cait’s theatrics.

Spurred on by Hattie’s exclamation, Cait continued. “Don’t you wanna feel the adrenaline coursing through your veins as you fight the biggest and meanest beasts you’ve ever seen in your life?”

“Yeah! Adrenaline!” Hattie followed suit.

“Don’t you wanna just throw yourself onto the Grimm and die for a greater cause?!”

“Yeah! Die for— wait, wait a sec, what?” Hattie cut herself short when she realized what Cait had just said.

Lillian rolled her eyes. “Believe me when I say it’s not all you’re making it out to be. Look, the Vytal Festival Is less than a month away, and we’ve already got our training schedule planned out until then. Why don’t we just enjoy the weather and relax? When we go back to our room, I suggest we have a nice little siesta.”

Harriet grinned. “Aw, that’d be great! That Grimm Studies paper can wait for the weekend, am I right?” She gently nudged Cait.

Cait ceased sipping their sweet drink and froze up for a moment, before their eyes widened as far as possible. “We have a paper due for Professor Branwen?” they said, a horrified expression dawning on their face.

Amaryllis looked up from her milkshake with a concerned expression. “…We thought you knew, Cait. The rest of us spent all of yesterday evening trying to finish it.”

Lillian facepalmed. “You completely forgot about it, didn’t you?”

In spite of their initial reactions, it didn’t come as a surprise for either of the Armilde twins that Cait couldn’t remember their latest assignment. Normally, the dark-haired individual just tried to catch some sleep in class and worry about their academia later.

“Oh, man. Now I have to stay up all night.” Cait groaned, banging their forehead onto the wooden table.

“Don’t worry, I’ll help you with it!” Hattie brightly exclaimed. Leaning into Cait’s ear, she whispered, “If you word it differently and stuff, I’ll let you just go ahead and copy off mine.”

Cait responded with a grin. “Sweeeeet. Thanks, Hattie, I owe you one.”

As her teammates continued talking about the easiest way for Cait to forge their essay, Lillian felt a small buzz from the Scroll in the pocket of her shorts. Pulling it out, she saw a message notification on the glowing cyan display.

1 new message from: red_cueball, the screen read.

Get your team, come down to Second Precinct ASAP. Speak there.

“It’s Rudyard.” Lillian responded, twisting her lower lip between her thumb and index finger’s knuckle in mild confusion. “Weird. He’s asking all of us down to the police station— the one where Agave is, I think.” Letting go of their lip, she quickly stored her Scroll back in her pocket as she stood up.

“Change of plans, guys. Finish up your shakes.” She said, before eyeing Cait. ”You got your wish, Cait. It looks like we might be getting a bit of excitement after all.”

***

A short, brisk walk later, LLAC arrived at the Second Precinct, where Agave was stationed.

The two-story building wasn’t much to look at from the outside— a grey, weathered monolith of concrete, with two lines of glass windows demarcating the first and second floors. From a look through the windows, it seemed like a busy day for the precinct, and surely enough the station was bustling inside. In the relative peacetime, the police were picking up any slack on the academy’s part in regards to logistics and security for the Festival. It wasn’t nearly as bad as if Mistral proper had been hosting the tournament, but it nonetheless seemed more intense than previous non-Mistral years.

LLAC began to navigate their way through the crowd to the reception booth. Some of the police force members were in suits and a few in plainclothes, but most of the officers were clad in the full Mistral uniform— a dark brown double-breasted coat with grey sides, replete with a peaked cap.

Reaching the booth, Lillian leaned against the plexiglass screen between her and the officer manning it, gently tapping on it to get his attention. “Hey. I’m looking for a Huntsman who’s supposed to be here, Rudyard Millard? Forties, bald, big mustache…?” She asked.

The policeman lifted his gaze from the computer and nodded. “You’re the students? He’s up with Detective Yuen, second floor, room 132 on the right side of the hall. Said they were expecting you.”

“Thanks.” Lillian waved, and LLAC continued to the stairwell at the back of the floor.

Despite the greater distance, it took them less time to reach Yuen’s office from the ground floor than it did to reach the reception from the entrance. The upper floor was devoid of personnel, aside from a few detectives working in their respective offices.

As they walked up to the office door, Lillian suddenly halted and craned her neck towards the window. “Is that… who I think it is?” she said, squinting her eyes as she peered between the wooden blinds.

“Who?” Cait asked curiously.

“I think— yeah! That’s his old leader Sardion with them.” she replied, surprised at the sight of the blonde man. She’d met him before a few times in passing, but never really gotten to know him. Quietly, she wondered what had gotten both of them to come to the precinct.

Did something bad happen?

A small but clear sniffle interrupted her thoughts, and she turned around to see who had made the sound

“Huh? What’s wrong, Hattie?”

The girl’s expression had turned shaky, and she looked to be on the verge of tears. “Whatever they’re in there about, it’s really bad. I feel… loss…” her voice wavered as she replied. Despite her ignorance of the situation going on inside the room, the negative emotions that she felt through her Semblance were nearly overwhelming.

Amaryllis placed a comforting hand on her teammate’s shoulder, giving her sister a worried glance. “Uh, Lilly… did Rudyard actually mention what he wanted us down here for?

Cait raised an eyebrow, looking uneasy. “Reaction like that, it can’t be anything good.”

Just then, a dark-skinned woman with golden eyes opened up the door— Detective Yuen, Lillian surmised at a glance from the woman’s vest and suit. A bronze badge was clipped to her belt.

“You must be LLAC, then.” Yuen said. “You’d best come in so I can get you lot all caught up.”

That said, the four of them followed Yuen into the office. Rudyard and Sardion turned to face them, but neither responded with a greeting aside from a curt nod of the head on Sardion’s part. Now that they were in clear view, the rookies could get a better look at their downtrodden expressions— it was clear as day that something was wrong.

Cait was the first of them to speak up. “So… are you guys going to tell us what exactly happened?”

Agave crossed her arms and hesitated for a second, preparing for any emotional windfall that the four might have to the bad news. “Long story short, last night, their other teammates from SYBR were found dead in their homes.” she replied bluntly.

The four teammates audibly gasped in shock. It all made sense now— why Rudyard and Sardion looked so beaten down, and why Yuen had only spoken to them first rather than everyone else in the group.

Lillian brought a hand up to her forehead, shuddering slightly from the news as she drew a breath. “No wonder you said you sensed ‘loss’, Hattie. Gods… Rudyard, I don’t even know what… I’m so sorry.” she said, turning to her mentor.

Rudyard gave her a small nod in response. “Yeah… yeah. I, uh…” He trailed off, unsure of how to respond without letting his emotions overtake him.

It pained Lillian to see Rudyard in such a distraught state. She wanted to offer him some words of comfort, yet it didn’t feel right to speak. It seemed like only a few seconds ago that he had been joking with her, and everything had been fine.

“Would you continue repeating it, Detective?” Sardion spoke up.

Yuen nodded, before continuing on. “We know it’s a murder, and a professional’s work at that. Cleanly done, whoever did it left just about little to no physical evidence. All that we know so far is only how they died— slash wounds of separate degrees, on the both of them, but what I didn’t mention earlier is that Yaara also suffered some… burns, that we haven’t identified yet. Some sort of chemical compound, based on a glance.” the detective reported. 

“Okay, okay, okay,” Cait said, waving their hands in front of their face. “So we know what happened, there’s an assassin on the loose in Mistral. But why’d you call us here?” they asked impatiently.

“Cait—!” Lillian hissed. “Have you ever heard of a little thing called tact, idiot?!”

“So what?! I mean, yeah, it’s absolutely horrible what’s happened, but what’re we going to do about it?!” Cait snapped back.

Yuen turned to Rudyard, fixing him with a suspicious look. “As a matter of face, I’ve been wondering about that as well. Why exactly did you call them here, Sir Millard?”

“Because I think these four could be able to aid us with the investigation.” Rudyard replied.

“I— come again?” Yuen exclaimed, her eyes widening.

“You know these other kids too, Rudd?” Sardion asked, also surprised by Rudyard’s response.

“I wouldn’t say as well as Lillian personally, no, but I do know that they’re as good as their leader. They can help us.” the Huntsman assured.

“They’re still students!” Yuen argued, before turning to face the four of them. “No offense, kids, but I don’t think Professor Lionheart would like you to get involved in a serious case just yet. Especially not one such as this.”

Rudyard dismissed her with a small wave. “Don’t worry about Lionheart, I’ll arrange something with him. Just trust me on this one.” he said, before abruptly walking away from the group and out of the office.

The remaining six of them were left standing around in silence, caught off-guard by Rudyard’s abrupt departure. Yuen and Sardion exchanged confused looks, as if they were contemplating whether to trust Rudyard’s advice or not. 

Amaryllis decided to break the silence. “So… what are we going to do?” she asked.

“What are we going to do?” Yuen repeated, bemused by the girl’s subtle assertion. Regardless, it seemed like they were on board with the case, like it or not.

Sardion cleared his throat. “We’ll talk more about where we should go from here tomorrow. Rudyard and I will talk to Professor Lionheart, and ask him to excuse you four from your classes while you’re helping us out with this case. For now, rest up. If you’re really as good as how he made you out to be… can I expect all of you to be here tomorrow at nine in the morning?” he said.

The four Hunters-in-training would have responded more eagerly, but any excitement of theirs rapidly faded as they remembered the exact circumstances of this case. Instead, they each replied with a determined expression and a curt nod.

“Well… then, I guess we’d probably best all reconvene tomorrow. It’s already getting late. Detective Yuen, thank you for your help. And Lillian, uh—” Sardion glanced over at the other three teens, whose names he wasn’t aware of yet.

“Oh! This is Harriet, that’s Amaryllis— my sister, and the one over there’s Cait.” Lillian said, indicating the rest of her team.

Sardion gave the rest of LLAC a small wave and a sad smile. “Ah, it was nice meeting you three. I wish it could have been under better circumstances.” He headed for the door, turning round one last time. “I’ll see all of you tomorrow, then? Bright and early.”

Lillian nodded. “We’ll catch up then. Try and get some rest, Sardion. Whatever’s to come, we’ll have your back throughout it.”

As the old soldier walked away, LLAC and Yuen fell silent, at a loss for words now that the two remaining members of SYBR had left.

Cait gave Hattie a gentle nudge. “Hey, at least this means I can get out of that Grimm Studies paper now.” They whispered into her ear, in a half-hearted attempt to lighten her mood.

“...Way too soon, dude.” Hattie replied with a wince.

#team llac #team llac fic #lillian armilde #cait miya #amaryllis armilde #harriet lazuli #team sybr #rudyard millard #sardion sarikaya #agave yuen #fanfic #fan fiction #rwby fan fiction #rwby oc #rwbyoc #rwby

[roseate7]

Pens fans and Sid fans are great at holding our faves accountable - you’re probably not

If you’re inflamed by that title then this post is for you. Flouncing away from it makes you look like a clown who can’t handle criticism and correction. I’ll go ahead and preface this by saying my disability limits my usage of screens to only the absolute essentials so I won’t be back here to see if you’ve done either so please save yourself time and any huffy replies you’re bristling with. I’m not interested in returning to tumblr, trust me.

I shouldn’t be surprised considering this fandom’s selectiveness when it comes to politics and hockey but it’s still not great to get an anon message that huge swathes of fandom are now treating the topic of racism not with regards to Akim Aliu or BLM, but as a popularity contest of performative white men. Oh and their eagerness to once again remind anyone they think cares that “humph they don’t wike Sidney Cwosby and their fave is superior! Take THAT Cwosby fans!”

Again, y’all should’ve saved yourselves the trouble but fortunately I and Pens fandom have a nice history of protesting and holding our team and Sid accountable for you to learn from. Especially Caps and Blues fans recently, also anyone gross enough to be Ovechkin fans, but especially if you consciously decide to have anything to do with supporting the Blackhawks and not smacking yourself in the eye every time you type or utter the team name. Like, holy shit are we really out here on the brink of saying you can be best friends with Patrick Kane and still be... jesus christ. (Start here and work backward - any other Pens fans, rb and add your own history of it) I’ll try to keep this brief but I couldn’t really care less if anyone finds it too long lol. If you’re all willing to post about this shit then you can sit and listen.

1) If any of the gestures made by these white men has turned your head or made you think they’re better than other white men in hockey then a) you’re obviously biased towards them in the first place and are jumping on any fucking crumb cast your way, and b) you’re wrong. They do not care about you. They do not care about BLM. They have known all along when they and others have done wrong and they have done nothing until pressured to do so. They do not care about anything beyond hockey. 

2) I have watched multiple rotations of PR efforts to Make Hockey Players Seem Like Great Guys over the decades. This is the latest. They pretend to atonement. They donate. They make statements. They wear tape on their sticks. They put on special jerseys for fifteen minutes. They pose with the minority they have offended (or attend Pride parades and get nothing but praise for it and the unearned mantle of having saved gays everywhere). And yet as I am here to attest, it has never done anything. It is intended to make you like them and do exactly what you’re doing now - buy into their cultivated hierarchy of goodness that has zero relevance to real world ideas of goodness or morality. 

3) The bar is too low to call any white male hockey player a good man. “But you stan Crosby!!” Yep. Read through my blog and I absolutely go nuts with the narrative of this guy’s career and his impact or lack of action in hockey. I balance a fascination with him as a hockey player with real life criticism of him as a person. You can too! 

4) Lastly, if you think “omg my guy is SOOOOO much better than Crosby because of x, y, and z” then you are a fool. You’re playing precisely into what the NHL and it’s teams have been pushing - especially on female fans! You’ve been fed a version of a white man, you’ve been given a tamping down in terms of your expectations, and now you’re in love. You’ll take anything he throws you and carry it like a banner over the heads of any inferior hockey men! You’re the loser in this exchange.

Ironically for the latest batch of “I hate Crosby”, Sidney Crosby has in fact done far more to improve the diversity of hockey than your white faves - the Little Penguins was his baby and spread league wide as the Learn to Play program and his focus has been to push management of his teams toward making tickets and events accessible to lower income families. Most of your dudes wait for initiatives from Head Office to be handed down via PR. Here’s the kicker! that absolutely every Pens and Sid fan I know is aware of! Neither Sid’s proactive work nor most players’ going along makes them better than each other in a real world sense! Because none of them are doing a fraction of what they could easily be doing to tackle real issues in an up front and direct way! And they all know it and hide from it! They’re all white boys who don’t like to rock the boat unless enough of their brothers do it with them!

None of them spoke up for Akim Aliu in any actual supportive way!! They waited for human trash bag Evander Kane to say something and slowly trickled in!! they all waited!! They waited their whole careers and they’re gonna keep you waiting!! 

Jonathan Toews is not better than Sidney Crosby. You are the ones who are upset by that fact - we’re the ones who’ve never questioned it. Johnny being best friends with a racist and abuser (and defending him openly!) and never answering for his racist logo on his chest or his notoriously brazen racist fans DOES NOT GO AWAY just because in this instance Sidney Crosby was later than him. It does not disappear just because his fans read a silly and utterly empty, self-serving mansplaining text post and decide that he is suddenly better than Sidney Crosby’s equally empty statement days later. Judge these men intelligently!! Stop making it a teen magazine bestest boy rating!! DO NOT TELL PEOPLE TO BRUSH OFF A MAN’S FRIENDSHIP AND DEFENCE OF A RACIST ABUSER RAPIST JUST BECAUSE HE WROTE A NOTE SAYING HE’S FOUND OUT ABOUT RACISM AND BOY IT’S NOT GOOD EH.

Please, just for a second, just think of how stupid it is to take an issue like systemic racism and actually sit down and actually turn it into whose boy is better than whose. For the love of god please if nothing else stop doing that!!

THE TIME FOR STATEMENTS TO ACT AS BROWNIE POINTS IS DONE. THE TIME FOR WHITE MEN COPPING TO RACISM IN THEIR LEAGUE AND THE WORLD AS SOMETHING WORTHY OF PRAISE IS DONE. THEY ARE TOO LATE. STOP ACCEPTING SO LITTLE JUST SO YOU CAN ENGAGE IN STAN WARS. 

THE PEOPLE DOING THE WORK TO IMPROVE SYSTEMIC RACISM IS ALL YOU SHOULD CONCERN YOURSELF WITH. NOT THEIR SEEMINGLY BENEVOLENT OPPRESSORS. STOP TALKING ABOUT THEM. STOP PRAISING THEM. IF THEY REALLY MEAN WHAT THEY ARE SAYING THEY WILL CONTINUE WITHOUT PRAISE AND WE WILL SEE IT IN REALITY OVER YEARS TO COME. THEY GET NOTHING FROM US NOW. NOTHING.

NO ONE CARES THAT YOU DO NOT LIKE SIDNEY CROSBY. WE CARE THAT YOU ARE INSISTING THAT WE REDUCE OUR SOCIAL AWARENESS DOWN TO SLURPING ON ANY WHITE MAN’S EGO IN THE MIDST OF INEQUALITY AND ABUSE THAT HE - WHOEVER HE IS - HAS SILENTLY AND ACTIVELY PERPETUATED, JUST BECAUSE HE DONATED MONEY OR WROTE STUPID FUCKING WORDS IN NOTES APP. 

#sidney crosby #jonathan toews #chicago blackhawks #alexander ovechkin #gabriel landeskog #braden holtby #idk who else people are slobbering over but this is a start #too fuckin tired and I only came back to offer support to pens fans dealing with morons again

[woodstockbtswriter]

Impermanence

Genre: Angst (with a smidge of Fluff), Social Media AU

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader (Female); Yoongi x Reader (Established Relationship)

Word Count: 1K (Story Portion)

Summary: You decide to get a tattoo to surprise your boyfriend, Yoongi. You ask Jungkook to accompany you, but this leads to a change you never expected.

Author’s Note: I really appreciate the positive response to this story! I hope you enjoy this installment. Please let me know if you want to see more!

Part Three

“Are you trying to get my attention, jagi?” Yoongi asked, pulling his gaze away from the TV and turning his head to look at you.

Actually, you were. Half-empty takeout containers littered your coffee table and your favorite series was streaming on your flatscreen, but you had been mostly preoccupied since your boyfriend arrived at your apartment for date night about an hour ago.

You knew you had to tell him about everything that happened the day before. There was no question in your mind as to whether you should; you were always honest with Yoongi and it was one of the things he loved most about you. You were even fairly certain he would understand, but you knew he would be hurt too, and you dreaded causing him any pain.

A feeling of guilt had also been gnawing away at you. Though you hadn’t initiated the kiss with Jungkook and had told him to stop... you did enjoy it. And if you were really, truly, perfectly honest... it had awoken something deep within you. Despite finding all of the other Bangtan boys attractive in their own way, you had never in the slightest entertained any romantic feelings for any of them. But now... you couldn’t help but look at Jungkook in a different light.

You’d made him promise to forget about his feelings for you, but you were finding it hard to bury your own feelings.

With all these thoughts in your mind, you had examined Yoongi’s face while he was absorbed by the TV show. You’d grown so familiar with him, you sometimes took for granted how remarkably beautiful he was. As you admired the angles of his cheekbones, his delicate skin, and his dark eyelashes, he licked his lips reflexively - a habit you had always found attractive - and all the feelings you had for this man welled up in your heart.

You loved Min Yoongi. You’d always loved him, and you always would. And right now, you had the overwhelming desire to show him just how much you loved him, to prove your love to him.

So you began drawing lazy circles on Yoongi’s neck with your fingers, tickling the sensitive skin just above the collar of his shirt, watching his perfect pouty lips instead of the screen, asking him to forget about the show without using words. It hadn’t taken him long to notice.

As soon as he gave you his full attention, you made your desire known.

“Kiss me.” You spoke softly, but there was a commanding tone in your voice.

Yoongi blinked. He wasn’t used to you being so direct, but he didn’t need to be told twice.

He leaned forward, tilting his head, and pressed his lips to yours, gently and unmoving. His kiss was warm and comforting; it felt like home. But you didn’t want a sweet, chaste kiss right now, you wanted passion and lust.

So when Yoongi moved to pull away, you held his face, keeping your mouths firmly connected. He didn’t object, but his surprise was evidenced by his sharp inhalation of breath. Clutching at the back of his neck, you parted your lips against his, and he responded eagerly, meeting your tongue with his own. His hands quickly found your waist and he moved forward, leaning you back against the couch cushions.

As your mouths moved together, you couldn’t help but appreciate how, though you felt completely at ease with Yoongi and heated moments with him were nothing new, his kisses never failed to make your chest tighten and your tummy flutter.

Already breathless, you reluctantly tore your mouth away, gasping softly. Yoongi still had air though, moving his lips to your neck, pressing hot kisses below your jaw, his breath tickling your skin as his whole body hovered over you.

You kept your eyes tightly shut and allowed your head to loll back as you savored every sensation. The baseball cap Yoongi had been wearing had fallen off at some point, allowing you to now grab fistfuls of his hair. When you did, he surged to kiss your mouth again, his hands sliding underneath your shirt, gripping your sides. And that was when you both froze.

He had felt it. Felt the dressing taped across your ribs.

He leaned back abruptly, quickly lifting your shirt to inspect what he feared was a wound.

“Jagiya!” He exclaimed, all his former ardor immediately replaced by genuine concern. “What happened? Are you hurt? What is this?”

You exhaled shakily. Yesterday, you could hardly wait to show your new tattoo to your boyfriend. But then everything with Jungkook happened, and you knew telling Yoongi about your tattoo would have to include telling him about his best friend kissing his girlfriend. That was why you didn’t immediately show him when he came over tonight.

But now, with a deep breath, you decided to just get it over with.

“No, it’s okay, baby. Here, let me show you.” You reassured Yoongi, slowly peeling back the bandage on your side.

He watched with furrowed brows until your tattoo was fully exposed, the delicate, curvy black lines still shiny with ointment. His face relaxed when he could clearly see that you weren’t hurt, a pensive expression settling onto his features.

“What’s all this about?” He asked, slowly lifting his hand, his long fingers stopping just before making contact with your skin. He traced the ink lines in the air, a small smile curling the corners of his mouth. “When did you have this done?”

“Yesterday.” You sighed. “It’s kind of a long story.”

Yoongi dropped his hand from your side to find your hand and clasp your fingers. He met your gaze and waited for you to continue. You cast your eyes down, summoning your resolve. Now was the time.

It was time to tell him the whole story. You weren’t going to back out now, but you could only hope the pain you were about to cause him would not be too great.

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