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#also i found out its easier to count by scrolling all the way to the bottom and counting to 32
werewolf-girlfriend · 9 months
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ive been enabled so let me share some of my thoughts on how to get ur art noticed online
if u want Engagement on ur posts then i believe that its critical to make people care about ur art. the easiest way to do this is to appeal to something they already care about, like fandom, aesthetics/subculture, current events, having fun (people love humor!). a harder but perhaps more fulfilling route is to talk about ur own ocs and projects enough until people start caring about them too
theres an infinite amount of topics people care about out there so id suggest picking something u already care about urself and channel ur art energy there. trying to make art for the most popular things out there regardless own interests is an exercise in misery, id advise against it..! if im allowed to get superstitious for a moment, i do believe that even untrained eyes can tell whether a piece of art was fun to work on or a chore. and besides! if ur having fun then its easier to create more, and the more u create the more chances ull have at getting lucky and having a post seen :)
on a very related note, art is a way to communicate ideas so the quality of the idea being presented in a piece of art is paramount to how popular a post will be. what i mean by this is that technical skill isnt the primary determinant of a posts popularity. if all your posts are portraits of original characters then people will have a hard time connecting with your posts and theyll keep scrolling, even if those portraits are masterpieces! the major exception to this is probably other artists, who ive found usually have a greater appreciation for the technical side of art (we can only speculate as to why..!)
lemme finish by saying that making popular posts and being good at art are two entirely different skillsets, ive seen many incredibly skilled artists with jack shit for notes because they dont give people a reason to care about their stuff NOT TO MENTION its a huge game of luck whether a post will get seen. so dont go insane in pursuit of recognition!
(i dont want to make this post too long so ive included examples from my own art and their note counts with my analysis after the break)
hello and welcome to the extracurricular segment to this post :) i bring yall two pieces from my art blog @werewolf-artfriend:
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here we have a portrait of my fursona that im still proud of and a sketch suggesting "what if sniffers (from minecraft) were the size of mountains?" (let it be noted that the sniffer sketch was posted right during the minecraft mob vote = peak interest in the subject of sniffers).
the portrait at the time of writing has a crisp 30 notes, whilst the sniffer sketch has over 2000 notes. from the same artist, on the same blog, posted only a few months apart. i believe this is a good example both of the power of a piece of art having an interesting idea at its core AND of a piece appealing to the interests of the masses
this is of course just two convenient example posts, but i have experienced fan art of popular topics getting thousands of notes a couple of times now, amidst my other furry shit that these days get around 200-300 notes in comparison
this may sound like a really long winded way of saying "fan art make the world go round" but i just want to point out the nuances that
1) it matters what u make fan art of: if a fandom is small or dormant (waiting on new canon content for example) then clearly less people will be excited about the fan art you make. dont expect 10k notes on ur post if the average recent post in the fandom gets around 200 etc etc
2) it doesnt have to be fan art! ive also had some of my bird art get thousands of notes because people simply like birds :) and this applies to ANY topic people care about! the world rly is your oyster on this one
anyway i think ive started rambling dhgdjhgd thanks if u read this far! i hope i got my point across! and if ur feeling down about ur art not being seen then just keep at it okay! keep creating and keep having fun! keep sharing ur ideas and perspectives with the world and ur audience will eventually find u! i love you!
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I'll Be Home For Christmas
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TW: Smut. Language. Moments of angst. Slightly Dom!Drew.
SUMMARY: You decide to risk it all for Christmas…
WORD COUNT: 3100
REQUESTED:
@obxiskewl asked:
Hi sweetie !! Is there any chance that tmr u could write a fix for drew ??since it’s my birthday tmr and he’s the best and ur the best writer ofc !!!
*HEY BABES! HAPPY BIRTHDAY! I'M SO INVESTED IN DOING CHRISTMAS ONES SO I HOPE THAT IS OKAY. HOPE YOU LIKE IT, IT'S ONE OF MY FAVORITES FOR SURE!* 
I’ll Be Home For Christmas
Your eyes fixated on the window longer than they should have in regards to the message he sent earlier today. But as you pressed your chin further to the bend of your folded arms, you were only left looking into the darkness of the night. You'd hoped to find an illumination of headlights over the freshly fallen snow or hear an interruption in the silence of the silent night. Yet, you were left staring across the street in the absence of the one person you'd traveled the fifteen hundred miles to see. 
"Are you okay?" One of Drew's sister's asked as she pulled her focus from the laughter accumulated in the kitchen with the remaining members of the Starkey family, all in noticing her absence. 
Brushing a tear from beneath your thumb to hide its expulsion, you nodded. A forced smile was seen as false by her having known you for the better part of your life. After all, you had met Drew in junior high, having met his family soon after as you'd become close friends. Bonding over a love of books and specific Pixar movies, something that endured a test of time and distance, your relationship remained. Only now, you had decided this would be the year you would risk your friendship at the possibility it could be greater. It was fueled by the comments of mutual friends, the biggest supporter having been Odessa, who was also in attendance tonight as she had flown out a few days prior. But as this conversation took place, she had made note of your shifted happiness, that usually commanded a room. 
"He says he will be here by New Years." 
"I can't stay..." You confessed,having arranged everything around Christmas as that's when he said he would be here. Now that confidence you had had faded into deep apprehension and even relief for keeping from having to take that risk. 
"I think I'm actually going to go to sleep since my flight is early tomorrow..." 
"You're leaving tomorrow?!" 
"Yeah..." You couldn’t fight your sniffle, "I think it's best. " You offered those polite farewell embraces of the day's end before climbing the steps to the guest room. But in the need to think of anything else but Drew, you were surrounded by mementos of him. Old pictures, many that held memories of you being there somewhere behind the camera, had been forced around you as you closed your eyes and hoped to leave without suffering any further heartache. 
"Don't be a dumbass!" You heard Odessa scold Drew as his familiar cadence made your heart swell. This was because he was the one you called when in the crux of your tribulations. 2 A.M. Los Angeles time and he would answer every call no matter how fatigued, always being a reason your tears stopped. Which was why his words hurt you so deeply now... 
"Well I'm doing what I can...I'm not coming all the way back for her-Its a goddamn chore to be around her, Dess-Has been since we were kids…" 
It was enough of a reason to stop eavesdropping and slip away into your Uber as he drove you to the airport. Polite conversation was muffled as Drew's words continued to sting. You were forced to face him at every turn however as you found his name broadcast over your screen before you turned off your phone. You decided once and for all that after years of a 'will they won't they' tango, you would have to move on. 
Or at least try to. 
You had convinced yourself you had a right to be happy, more angry than sad by him at this moment, and it acted as a catalyst to that first step of emotional freedom. But it was easier said than done. Eventually, you scrolled through those old pictures of even the Christmas before as it had been a means for your feelings reaching this fever pitch. 
That damn kiss under the mistletoe. The one his family pushed you to have, and the one you had both laughed off. But truth be told, things had changed. Conversations teetered into more cheeky topics and you found him jealous at the mention of you going on a date in what would have maybe have been support. It drove you nearly insane, especially with how suddenly cold he was. 
"Boarding flight 1204-" The speaker echoed through the airport as you pulled your carry on to the direction of the terminal before nodding. You prepared to leave him behind. That angst. That ache. Even if you were well aware it would remain no matter if you stayed until New Years or left now, you couldn't look him in the eye now in knowing how he felt about you. 
"Drew?" You could believe your heavy, swollen eyes as he paused for a second before looking down to you. 
"How are you-" 
"Odessa called me last night and said unless I wanted ro lose the best thing in my life, aside from her," He playfully rolled his eyes, "Then I better move my ass and stop yours from getting on that plane..." 
"I heard what you said..." You confessed. "About me being a chore..." You corrected him, not allowing this sweet sentiment to blur the pain of those words. 
"I said that about my sister! She’s been bugging me for months to get some makeup from Madison...guess she hooked her up...but...I could ever say thay anything like that about you," 
"I..." 
"Don't go...please." He could convince you of anything. Just as he had done when you were fourteen and trespassed into the public pool after hours to go skinny-dipping, his eyes being the first to make you feel beautiful as they descended you in appreciation. And again at eighteen when you helped him in the senior prank. He was also the one who pushed you to follow your dreams, even if it meant you moving across the country away from him. But it was also what kept you in place now. 
"I have to get back..." 
"Odessa told me why you stayed...said there was something you wanted to tell me..." His eye were hopeful, as if he knew but needed that validation. But as you looked to those soft blue eyes, you feared everything changing. In theory, the worst case scenario of requited feelings had been enough to risk that. But knowing you may not be able to have that now if he weren't to feel the same, you retreated. 
"I should go...We'll talk..." You lied, not intending to face him again as it would have been too difficult. But as you tried to leave, he realized he would be the one to take the risk. With your arm in hand, you felt him direct your focus into him until your chest collided into his. But along with this came a moment where you were aware of what was about to happen. A singular moment where he moved his hand to your cheek. 
"Please don't get on that plane..." 
"Give me a reason to stay...." You spoke as more of a question as he pulled you that remaining distance close. A cinematic kiss, purely romantic and sensual as you were in public. But it would only take moments for thay to alter as you crossed over the threshold of his childhood home and up the steps. You were allowed this moment of disheveled clothes and kisses interrupted by chuckled as they had been out looking at lights as they had done every year prior. But he had every intention if you seeing stars by the night's end. 
"Are you sure?" He asked as he stopped outside of his bedroom, which had since been used as a guest room, the room you stayed in when you visited. 
"Yes." You confessed breathlessly. 
"Good. I'm only asking once." Suddenly something switched behind his eyes. The softness drained to something similar to how he would look as one of his morally gray characters. But it wasn't in hatred or anger, but purr lust. 
You were taken into a lift against the door as it slammed closed behind you, his feet quick to take you to the bed. But as you expected to be undressed fully or even taken quickly, he would set you back on your feet. As you looked at him quizzically, he led you softly towards his lips with a sweet kiss that quickly turned almost sinister with seduction. He made you breathless rather swiftly, undressing you down to your lingerie as he smirked at how it felt beneath his fingertips. 
"I want you to tell me what you were going to say if I hadn't gotten stuck at work...all while I get you ready for me..." He teased his lips down the curve of your neck, resting at the skin revealed by your bra as he taunted the fabric separating your bare chest from his own. 
"I'm ready..." You breathed, almost desperately, as he smirked. The fingers at a recent rest at your hip would glide across the rim of your underwear before dipping inside. 
"Look at that, you ARE...But I still want to know what you were going to tell me..." Suddenly, you were left feeling more vulnerable than you had when you were a virgin. This confession wore the weight of a friendship at risk as you swallowed hard. 
"How about I convince you?" He teased, lowering his voice as he pressed his lips to your ear. 
"Lay down..." He guided verbally as you were quick to obey. Your eyes remained to him as he bent over you. 
"Please tell me...I'm dying to know what made you so scared you couldn't tell me-" 
"I wasn't scared-" Your defensive tone was interrupted by a gasp caused by his fingers tessing your sex as he bypassed the gentle teasing you expected from someone usually more reserved. 
"Maybe not...but you're definitely wet...shit...I've always wanted to be the reason you made this face..." He explained with his secondary hand at your cheek. 
"But I can't wait to know how you sound when I'm actually inside of you..." 
"Please, Drew..." 
"Not until you tell me, sweetheart. I can do this all night..." He quickened his fingers, only to slow them as you wrapped your hand around his wrist. 
"Not sure if you could-" 
"This! This was what I wanted to tell you...this was what I've wanted..." 
"Then who am I to keep you waiting?" His hands brought you to the very edge of the bed. For just a moment, your eyes remained to him, before they fell to the fabric pulled from your hips. He was sweet in every motion, but looking at you with such violent seduction that it could be enough to act as a flint and steel to any fire. 
"Drew...I-" You were suddenly flipped to your knees, hips raised to the air, as he pulled you against his chest. The steady rest of his heart was a vast contrast to the pound of your own as his fingers climbed around your neck. 
"I told you I wasn't going to ask if this was okay again. So I am going to expect you to take everything I'm going to give you, baby..." His hand was at your cheek, turning your head until only your eyes found him. 
"Because that's what you are now. You're my girl...my baby..." You nodded. 
"Please, Drew." His jaw clenched, a deep groan forcing his angry cock to consider those angry thrusts. But once again, he would refrain as he returned to the edge of the bed. 
"Don't come this way." He explained before his tongue made stripes between your lower lips. A taunt left behind as he smirked at the desperate reactions made against him. 
"Drew-" You turned far enough to witness how he appeared behind you. His head bobbed in the licks made against him, blue eyes connecting to you, before smirking beneath to interrupt his ambitions. But it was almost as if this only acted as a means of motivation. His tongue became more focused around your clit, sensations deepening by the insertion of not one, but two fingers. 
"Drew!" You gasped, almost to scold him, until feeling him turn you on your back. Without a word, you were set with one leg on either one of hod shoulders as be returned to your sex. Only now, in pure carnivorous expertise. 
"Oh my God....Drew...fuck..."  You breathed quickly, almost pained, as he led you even deeper against him. His expressions of focus and occasionally pride were impossible to validate in majority as he was a man on a mission in feasting you to that close edge. 
"Don't...come..." He explained with a break, breathlessness and self-satisfaction seen in his order, all before he returned again. 
The sound of the front door coming open behind him would pull his focus just enough to return you to reality. 
"Drew?" But it wasn't until the sound of your name that you would move onto your elbows. 
"I wanted to hear you, baby..." He moved over you, hovering as if to kiss you, but only to act as a distraction to remove your bra. 
"But it looks like that I'll just have to make you scream then..." One hand fondled your breast, paying close attention to your nipple. Capturing behind his teeth, he rolled it until it taunted you in pain, mending this by a suck. 
"Ahhh..mmm..." With a hand to the back of your neck, your head came to a rest in his large palm. His tongue was shameless but determined as it drove up your neck and jaw after beginning at your breast and rising up over the clavicle. 
"But this time..." He unbuckled his jeans. The metal of the keys hung on their loop validating each of his movements until they were silenced when colliding with the floor. 
"I'm just going to have to make you tremble..." The groaning made of his name set his hand to your jaw. Softly but enough to direct you tk him. 
"Quietly." Suddenly he was at your sex. Your body suddenly flushed a thousand degrees as he inched slowly into you. Passion and need behind this insertion as your nails ate into his muscular arms. 
"You feel so perfect..." He praised you while the bed squeaked beneath you both. It was set in disregard as you offered each other that rise to ecstasy that had been foremost on your minds since those feelings of friendship was first held in consideration to this. And it showed behind every motion. 
While growing slick with perspiration, you were offered the kindness of a friend but the desperations of a lover. Where a kiss would be necessary to both silence and validate his care, a wicked tongue commanded you into quietude. With fingers alternating between the sheets beneath you, your hair, and your skin, a devoted set of dominant digits sourced for your pleasure at your clit. The thrusts made were gradually quick but thorough, only to contrast in brutal poundings when he needed to feel you even deeper. 
"I wish you would have told me sooner...could have felt this good," He wrapped one hand into your hair, leading you to rest at his lips, "Could've made YOU feel this good-" He grunted as you took your hand quickly around his wrist as he kept you lifted this way. 
"Drew!" 
"Coming for me?" You nodded. His hand slipped around the back of your neck as he returned you fully to your back, but only to direct you over him in a straddle. His cock or his hands never left you during this shift as you remained wrapped into him. 
"I wanted to be soft-" 
"Fuck me. Drew please just fuck me-" 
He forced his way deeply into your clench around him, a mix of pain from depth but kept pleasure surging through you, as he wrapped one hand over your mouth. 
"I promise you can scream all you want next time, baby...my baby-" He grunted, losing himself to you for a moment. "But right now-yes....JUST like that...." He felt you moan into his fingers encircled by your tongue. But you needed more. 
Your hands pressed harshly into his chest as you forced him onto his back. 
"Baby-" 
"I'm gonna make you come, Drew...and then I want you to make me." He corrected you, hand moving from your thighs to your neck. 
"Together." He corrected as you nodded. 
You rode over him in waves, his cock flexing to your intentional clench and his jaw tensing to the unintentional pulls. The most perfect of aches developed at your thighs as you glided over him in perfection. At times, his hands were soft and a means to stabilize you, but mostly, they are into you for his own selfish need that you adored. 
"Yes!" 
"YES-" He grunted, his own back arching as you pulled your palm over mouth. 
"Gotta be quiet-" You were lifted and rolled onto your back, his words and motions a slave to his coming release. 
"Not when you feel this fucking good. I don't care who hears us...I'm too close and you're too fucking tight...SHIT-" As you smirked in lifting a hand around his mouth, he was quick to correct you by returning you flat. 
"I feel what I do to you. Hear what you do to me." He set his forehead at yours, riding out those final thrusts as you tightened around him, reaching your own climax in the process as he was quick to follow. 
By the time you could walk, night had fallen. 
"You realize there is no way in hell you're leaving now, right?" 
"I'll have to eventually-" You reminded as you reached for the bedroom door. 
"Not without me." He kissed you sweetly before you rejoined the family. Even though it was clear by your presence, the smile of your faces, and that final validation of his fingers interlaced with yours, nobody had said anything. 
At least until you sat at dinner. 
"It was about time! Now all that's left is to get you two married." His mother teased as you choked on your choice of alcohol and he smirked, rubbing your back. 
"Maybe start with a date." You smirked before Kdessa leaned to where both of you could hear her. 
"I'm expecting an honorable mention in your wedding toasts...maybe your first born having my name as their middle." She teased as you shook your head, "telling me it isn't possible with the way you just fucked?" You and Drew both looked at each other before looking back at her. 
"Yeah...we heard…”
Taglist: @hopebaker @iovdrew @penny4yourthoughts @magnificantmermaid @pickingviolets @lovedetlost @trikigirl271 @maybankslover @slut4starkey @slvtherinseeker @obxiskewl @bluesongbird @slut-era @ailee-celeste @camilynn @sweetestdesire @onmykneesforrafe @drews1love
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tathrin · 22 days
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🎲+🐚
Writer Truth Or Dare asks.
🎲 ⇢ what stops you from writing more in your free time? 
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That's a joke, but also not. Distractions is the biggest issue, for me. Which includes tumblr, video games, discord, chores, etc. Everything that can involve sitting down to write, and then not doing that. (Including re-reading fic, both other people's and my own shit.)
Also, tiredness. Fuck capitalism, and fuck this trashfire of a country. We should all have more free time, and thus more energy both physical and mental. But everything is so exhausting sometimes, that it's easier to just start scrolling through tumblr or meandering through Tamriel or Taris or Henford-on-Bagley than it is to do anything, even the things you really want to do.
Blah.
🐚 ⇢ do you like or dislike surprises?
I like them, in the sense of I'm someone who prefers not to be "spoiled" on a story ahead of time, so that I can have the experience of discovering its contents and emotions for myself; and I like them, in the sense of I don't tend to scour around for clues and hints, because I enjoy discovering the story as it happens to me more than I do the potential "smugness" of knowing it all ahead of time, and so I deliberately don't look for stuff that might give-away things ahead of time. I'd rather be surprised...but on the other hand:
I loathe them, in the sense of the "hide all spoilers at all costs! shock value, shock value! never let the audience guess what's coming! if the audience can guess something ahead of time, the story is ruined! if the audience guesses something ahead of time, you change it!" nonsense that has pervaded so much of the media landscape of late.
I'm pretty good at picking-up on little clues and I'm familiar enough with stories as a "thing" that I tend to be able to tell where a story is going faster than most people I know (especially movies, which are by nature more limited in scope than a novel) due to both experience with narrative as a concept and a good memory for details, so I'm quite used to not being shocked by the bulk of the things I read/watch; but I've never found this a bad thing, like so many of the big corporate media entities these days seem to have made it into.
That's just called noticing what's happening, and extrapolating. I mostly tend to figure out something shortly before it happens, which adds a delightful flavor of "omg will it...?" anticipation to the story, without detracting from the experience of having the story unfold, even when it unfolds as I thus expect it to. That doesn't mean the story is bad; it means that narrative often follows a cause-effect format, and stories echo, and foreshadowing is a thing, and you should have a plot that makes fucking sense, etc etc. And because a good story should be entertaining even after you know the twist, it's not a big deal either way!
How many times have I watched The Empire Strikes Back? Far more than I can keep count of! And it remains my favorite Star Wars movie to this day...even though I've known the "twist reveal" since I was six. (I do wish I could remember my reaction from the first time I watched it, though! Just for fun!) But the emotional weight of the reveal to Luke remains just as potent now, even when the audience's shock is gone. Because the story doesn't hinge upon the twist.
I think everybody should have the opportunity to experience things like that for themselves unspoiled, so they can have the emotional impact hit the to its full extent (hence I will never ever tell anyone what The Thing in Mastiff is ahead of time, no matter how many times my roommate begs me to; because as we suffered, so shall ye!) but I don't think that knowing those things ahead of time ruins a story, either.
If a "spoiler" can ruin your story, your story isn't actually much of a story; it's just a gimmick. And I'm interested above all in stories. Whether they surprise me or not.
(Sorry, that one turned into more of a Rant About Modern Media than an actual answer, whoops!)
But to try and get a little more back on track for a summarizing conclusion here: I like being able to shock my audience, but I like even more than that having them catch-on to what's probably going to happen beforehand so that they can start to go oh no oh fuck is it...? before it does. That's my favorite kind of surprise to experience in fiction, and my favorite kind of one to write too: the anticipated one. Not known; but guessed.
And that works for both excited anticipation, and dreaded!
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rigelmejo · 2 years
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Update: I'm still reading 大林和小林, I'm on chapter 14 out of 19 I think. If I push it I can finish today, if not then I can finish tomorrow.
The story's stats from Readibu are below, still confirming my sweet spot for extended reading seems to be HSK 4 comprehension over 83% and HSK 5 comprehension over 93% (or hsk 4 80% hsk 5 90% probably at minimum if I'm just browsing stories to give a try).
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This story is, again, a really easy read if you read 秃秃大王 first. The author writes a specific style and favors specific verbs and adjectives so vocabulary learned from the author's other story transfers to this one.
Thus week I have made SO much reading progress. Once this is finished, I will have read 5 chinese stories in a week! (And 5.5 if you count dmbj 1 which I'm halfway through now).
This is by far the fastest I've ever been reading through chinese stories. Which I guess means 1. It was clearly time for me to drop the reading difficulty and up the extensive reading Amount.
And 2. That I Highly Recommend Heavenly Path's site and specifically reading recommendations. They were particularly perfect for me right now, because I'm probably in their intermediate-upper intermediate level so Ive got All of the recommendations within that to pick from and read quickly while still learning some new words. If you know a bit less words than me, it might be a little rougher going to begin, but overall I think their recommendations list is really good. I think the 2 first novels they recommend are Eons better for beginners than 小王子 (and priest lol) were for me as my earliest reading attempts.
These first 2 novels 秃秃大王 and 大林和小林 teach so many nice basic common adjectives and nouns and verbs, which i promise do carry over to help later reading both if you plan to just read modern daily life things or fantasy genre etc. I am seeing so many hanzi that I've already learned as part of much bigger words/phrases in priest novels, but seeing them used individually in these easier stories makes their core meaning way clearer to me and I'll probably remember it much better now (which will make later guessing of longer words with the hanzi much easier in the future than it used to be). I'm seeing core parts of words I've seen in daily life stuff, in stuff I'm also seeing regularly in dmbj right now, that I've seen part of 镇魂 and palace stuff I've tried to read before. So yes these first 2 stories are kids fairy tales, but they also use a lot of useful words you'll likely see in a ton of other stuff and be happy you learned. They're also written in a way that helps explain what new words are, explaining to the main characters at times, and in a way where words get REPEATED so if you do look up a word you'll keep SEEING it and therefore actually manage to remember what it means. Absolutely I recommend these 2 stories directly after some Mandarin Companion, some Pleco Graded readers (up to maybe 1000 hanzi or whatever ur comfortable with), and/or after free graded reader content that covers a similar basis.
I'm very inclined to just continue directly following Heavenly Paths recommended list for beginners found here: https://heavenlypath.notion.site/Comprehensive-Reading-Guide-from-Beginner-to-Native-Novels-b3d6abd583a944a397b4fbbb81e0c38c (scroll to see their graded reader recommendations, followed by chinese story recommendations in order of difficulty).
So the next few recommendations are:
“下次开船“港 (I may tire of children's stories though so may skip this one)
小布头奇遇记 (same as above)
公主想做龙骑士 (baihe, if it clicks I may read this)
我的红狐狸妹妹
我的狼妈妈 (it's highly recommended, I fear I may cry, will probably check this out)
做树真的好难 (danmei, from the pov of a tree spirit which sounds fun to read)
当你走进图书馆而书里夹了一枚书签 (danmei, I read this and it was great! A short read which is motivating to finish, surprisingly had supernatural elements which almost made me cry, and ends happy!)
我家二爷 (this being a simple historical very much tempts me to read this, its also a short read and should take only a couple hours, and I could use probably more familiarity with historical words)
第十二封情书 (danmei, this looks short and unique)
谁动了我的骨灰坛 (supernatural, baihe, sounds intense and up my alley, the length scared me though at 50k characters until I realized... 大林和小林 is 40k... so I can probably handle 50k in 2-3 days now. Wow! Also fun fact dmbj 1 七星鲁王 is 80k... which is why I consider it doable now...meanwhile 天涯客 is 292k.... ;-; ultimate goal is to be able to read THAT in a week. I guess on the upside that's only 3 or 4 times longer than dmbj 1 ... so at current rate, I could read 天涯客 in a month. Probably 2 months if you account for it being harder to read difficulty wise, which is still better than the 6 month estimate of how long 镇魂 was taking me last year when I was extensively reading it and 100 pages took me a month. How about I just... keep reading dmbj novels haha. And when I can read them easy as pie and fast, maybe then I can consider tackling the harder reading material in a reasonable time frame lol. Someone also mentioned to me today and reminded me: sticking to one author often makes reading easier since they prefer the same word choice mostly, so dmbj would remain generally easy once I pick up npss's preferred words. And its already at my sweet spot easier level than tianyake ahh ;-; )
Then there's Heavenly Paths Upper Intermediate ranked stuff, of which some is likely my extensive reading level since they rank 笑猫日记 as Upper Intermediate and I can read one of those stories in a few hours extensively. But also, I notice (or at least think) when I read Intermediate like I have this week I actually pick up more words because my comprehension hinges on the few unknown words and the limited vocabulary means unknown words get repeated more. Whereas when I read Upper Intermediate (and above), I can already usually follow the main plot and there is enough additional description padding to figure out unknown words which are critical to meaning, meanwhile that critical word gets no repetition so even if I figure out its meaning I'll rarely see it much again to remember it, and a lot of the description padding words I can get by not understanding or vaguely guess but then... they won't repeat much either so I don't remember much. Which means rereading stuff like 寒舍 and 半夜衣寒 sound more appealing to me, because as case stories I KNOW they'll repeat vocabulary enough for me to remember it even though they're a higher reading level. I KNOW I'll pick up a majority of the new words I figure out. Whereas with some other Upper Intermediate stuff, if it doesn't regularly reuse words like dmbj does, then I don't think it will hammer in reminding me of words I may still need to learn. After all, I dived into Intermediate (so "easier") stories this week specifically because I noticed when there's Few Words Used I don't always know those critical words for understanding. It's rarely a problem in more detailed writing, but reveals a weak spot in my vocab when given easier curter writing. Which is why I've been working on it: hammer in the basic words, so I stop running into critical unknowns in curter writing. Mmm...
And then like... there's my pingxie fanfic backlog to read too... I am desperately missing 寒舍... it's like fucking 375k characters (rip) but I read fucking 60 chapters in a month, like several months ago! When my reading skill was worse! Like yes it's a beast (and apparently longer than tianyake wowza), but I already read 60 chapters of it 2 times ToT I already know a lot of its words and plot and my god do I wanna finish it. Idk if it's too over my level and I should Calm Down and continue the Actual dmbj novels which are easier (and shorter at 50k ish a piece). But wow... do I miss them. So when I'm done with dmbj 1 I'm gonna be. Tempted. I'm tempted now.
In other news. Like I mentioned, I made a parallel text of sha po lang recently. And I started reading chinese chapter 1 today. And I needed to stop myself cause yeah totally, reading about a general hill/mound thing and mech suits is Definitely Not Gonna confuse me and Melt My Fucking Brain. Zhenhuns doable specifically because I love that story and know so much of it by heart by now ToT. I do not have nearly that advantage in SPL and SPL is historical au with mechs and palace words and I feel like it might even melt my brain more than can ci pin. (Oh but what a world when I CAN read can ci pin ;-; I bought all the print volumes so they sit on my shelf with their super pretty covers and remind me one day I wanna be able to read more than just their chapter titles ;-;).
Tldr back to the POINT: anyway go check out Heavely Path's site, they did such a good job with their reading recommendations and levels! If you want to ultimately read chinese webnovels, their recommendations are both super well suited to break you into reading real stuff, and to gradually increase your reading skill without too much strain and struggle. I think their recommendations are quite fair overall and all their easier stuff I can confirm is easier with small increases in difficulty to make it easier to improve. (And then as a learner who did whatever-the-fuck on my own for years first, I'd also say some of their higher level recommendations are totally doable at lower reading levels if you Want to do them... like priest is "hard" but I was reading 镇魂 and 默读 extensively in print version with no translation aids at about 1.5-2 years into learning Chinese. So if you want to read something a lot, even if its above your level, it may well be doable - and there's easier ways to do it than I did, like comparing with edanglarstranslations lovely priest translations of modu, like reading digitally with a click translation tool like Kindle, Pleco, Readibu, which I have Also done with Guardian and did make the experience very easy - I just am a lazy person and wanted to read my print book and not use tech sometimes ToT. So basically if you love 魔道祖师 or 镇魂 or fuck even 破云, read it early if it'll make you happy and you'll enjoy it. I literally was reading 天涯客 like 10 fucking months into learning Chinese, after 2 mandarin companion books and 10 chapters of the much easier 他们的故事, because Word of Honor was gonna be out soon and I wanted to read priest Badly. I read with Plecos Reader tool, and chapters took 2 hours then 1.5 then 1 then finally 40 minutes eventually to get through, until by chapter 27 I was real tired of slogging through and the show came out so I switched to watching it ToT. But I did Manage to read it 10 months in. So if you've got something you want to read, if you want to then don't let difficulty keep you from it.)
Also uh... extensive reading was really a good choice this week, I already feel I'm seeing a noticeable speed and comprehension improvement. I've read like... 20k+12k+25k+40k+20k=117k characters this week at least. Wow!
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ihatebnha · 2 years
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Hi, I heard you were feeling a little sick, hope ur feeling well!! I've been working these past couple months and I've finally been able to look through ur recent posts so I'm a little behind. I'm embarrassed to say that I've been counting the days and kept writing in my notes app abt what I would send lmao. Ur really my comfort blog. <3 Anyway before this gets long and I end up embarrassing myself more I was scrolling through pinterest and found this:
https://pin.it/6OQSLYI
This is giving me very much izuku vibes. Someone might think that it's bakugo however
I think he's more clear cut in the way he loves and I think it's pretty much agreed that once he decided he's with you, it's already in his head that he's marrying you. Not that any other character wouldn't ( or that its his goal but it might just be the most sinple way of saying this is forever) but going through those (emotional) milestones with bakugo might be easier since once you break through his exterior and he's decided on choosing you there's no hesitation afterwards so while he's a little rough around the edges,midoriya is a completely different story . Its like trying to pull teeth out, trying to get him to admit he needs help or to let him know that ur there for him. Bakugo is very much, "I don't deserved to be loved because I'm not good enough", whereas midoriya is, "I don't deserve to be loved unless Im paying for it." And he has!! His body is a monument of all the times he's given himself away freely simply bc he doesn't see himself as worthy of anything unless he's bleeding for it. Unless he's kneeling and putting his neck through a guillotine. So standing in the shower and letting himself be vulnerable enough not flinch when you touch him and letting himself feel loved without a price ughhhhhdbjsbsjs 🥺. Thinking about how hard he's trying not fall to his knees and sob because he only dreamed about someone loving him the way he's loved others.
Um anyway 💀 thinking lots of thoughts lmao,lmk if the link isn't working lol
(link!)
cookie🥺🥺🥺 sorry for the late response! don’t ever feel bad for being or getting behind cuz (clearly) it happens to everyone... it’s really sweet of u to even want to check back in at all AND KEEPING NOTES FOR ME? please, you are *cries* too kind. 
it’s funny tho cuz i always, always, notice when ur in my notifs. i think because maybe sent me an ask i don’t remember but also mostly the time u responded to my hc about bakugo liking the black eyed peas LOOOL and i’m still grateful <3 
anyway lalala that’s just to say ur so sweet and i think of u too !!! let’s get into this tho a bit ;’)
-
i for sure agree it’s deku!! like you point out, i definitely think the whole... confusion + being overwhelmed aspect is a lot more him than bakugo, who definitely skirts around being blatant w/ affection but isn’t all that opposed to both giving and receiving. deku, on the other hand, really... waits for you to lead, and because he’s him... is happy to wait forever. So when you suddenly reach out and care for him in a way he’s never experienced before... AHHH.
and just... that specific kind of intimacy too, i see as being very deku. you know, bakugo likes washing himself, so when you do it... it’s more of a vulnerable act. deku... can sometimes (and often) neglects these aspects of self care bc again, he believes his body is for The People... so when you to take control of it and provide? it’s this whole different level of softness and gentleness and love because it’s not related to anything painful or outside of just... showing ur love for him and him alone, as a person. a lover. 
(does that make sense? not that it isn’t all that for bakugo... but he’s more self sufficient in that the washing doesn’t make him fall apart. he falls apart for other reasons and then you’re there to help after)
but uh... yeah. i’m melting thinking about it! and esp because he has such nice hair in general, too. Can you imagine giving him an olaplex or oil treatment for fun and him just... tearing up and then falling asleep in ur lap LOL? he wakes up with the nicest, shiniest curls. i adore him to bits :((
and you, too! thank you so much for this <3
-
also i just want to highlight: 
“His body is a monument of all the times he's given himself away freely simply bc he doesn't see himself as worthy of anything unless he's bleeding for it. Unless he's kneeling and putting his neck through a guillotine.” 
WOWWWWW!!!
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manonamora-if · 2 years
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Previous word counts (from my old Word Docs): - English: 27.855 (approx.) - French (M): 31.050 (approx.) - French (F): 29.961 (approx.)* *Ending page was the same translation
Current Progress: - English word count: 30.362 (+ 2.507)* - French: waiting for English to be coded. - Recode: 0% *may go down.
Since the beginning of the month, I've started re-editing the monstrosity still available online. I have already added too many works for its own good. But, between the typos and awkward phrasings I could already pick-up, this extra work was needed. {And even with my re-writes/check, I am sure there will still be a few at the end of the day :P}
Oh did I think I was THE shit when I uploaded this game in the first place... Re-reading is feels like a slap in the face...
I have gotten actually much further than I though I would be by now (or less... to be honest, I have no conception of time anymore...). I am currently editing the second third of the game. Don't worry, the story itself will NOT change.
In this process, I am not just adding more words to make it pretty and sensible. I've been removing redundancy between passages (yay widgets!) and trying to combine the text between between similar cases (when I can). I have also been thinking about the general formatting of the text (breaking the document in smaller bits to read easier) and added a few more choices (mainly inconsequential or added a bit more variance in the text).
What else to expect in this update:
Story Edits: as mentioned above, correcting typo, grammar, punctuation, flow of the text/story.
Formatting: mentioned above as well, there will be more breaks in the passages. Instead of scrolling endlessly, you will be sent to a new passage. This will make saving easier for you as well!
Accessibility: Key-binding will be included in this update. I am thinking of adding a darkmode theme too (Is the current one still nice on the eyes?)
Language: I have found a way to made the French translation into one path only (adding a button setting to make it feminine or masculine instead). If I ever get a translation for another gendered language, this will be useful then too!
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Word Count: 55.831 (+ 775)
I've also taken a shot at the next 3 rounds of EC to upload this month. It is... going? Round 10 has been edited, and I have even added a bit more choice/variation (non-consequential).
But I am having issues with writing the ending for that round. I have an idea, but I am not sure if it will work out? I should just start writing it and we will see where it goes.
Also... I have been toying with making a French translation for EC too. There are some issues with the use of adjectives (some go before the noun, some after AND match the genre) which will require different code. But I think I want to give it a shot. I've pinned it for later, otherwise my workload will be a mess...
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Got the news from MelS: there is only one missing location left to write! Then small edits, then finish coding. If all goes well, Ch.2 should be complete by the end of October (for the release). Maybe no need for plan B! :D
Only one location left to write. If all is ok, CH2 will be complete by the end of the October and no need for plan B!
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drewandareview · 3 months
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Facebook (2004) vs. Twitter (2006)
Originally published June 23rd, 2014
I can now say that I've used both Facebook and Twitter, arguably the most popular social networks out there.  Which one do I think is better?
Facebook had a character limit for posts at one point, but no longer does.  Any links you share have previews readily visible so you know what the link leads to.  With the relatively new timeline feature, you can pinpoint certain posts in time rather than having to scroll through a straight chronological feed.  It's personal, allowing you to like various "pages" identifying things about you, filling out a detailed "about me" section, and even displaying a relationship status.  It allows you to like various posts without treating these likes with much weight.  
Connections on Facebook have to be mutual, which discourages people from becoming friends with strangers.  Facebook pages do not require this, but are not utilized in such a way.  Facebook has also found popularity with many walks of people, being considered "played out" by some communities.  For these reasons, the networking atmosphere on Facebook is not as strong.  Searches are limited to mostly people and pages, and there is no way to search for posts.
Twitter has a character limit of 140.  Its links do not feature previews and users will not know exactly what they are clicking on.  There is no way to pinpoint certain posts.  It's impersonal, allowing only for a line or two of self description.  It forces people to derive conclusions solely from posts.  It highlights your record of posts that you have favorited.
Connections on Twitter do not have to be mutual, allowing for people to follow strangers.  It has yet to be considered played out and is being utilized better for networking purposes.  Twitter features a tagging system for posts, allowing people to search a tag to see all the posts that feature it.  You can also search for people.
From this information, I would say Facebook has the better features.  Even if only considering the posts, it's easier to keep track of posts, easier to read posts, and there are no limits for writing them.  Some people prefer Twitter because it's simpler and more basic.  I like the additional features Facebook has for personalizing.  They don't have to be utilized, and many of them I don't utilize.  I also prefer Facebook's treatment of likes.
I understand Facebook's mutual connection policy as some people might want to limit the people who can see their content.  Many Facebook users don't care who sees their content and will make mutual connections with many strangers.  Twitter allows mutual connections with strangers, but overall, it does not allow for more privatized mutual connections.  I think Facebook has the better idea here.
Where I would say Twitter certainly has Facebook beat is its tagging system.  I think the ability to tag posts is fantastic for networking and ought to be more utilized on Facebook.  I do, however, wish that tags were not a part of Twitter's limited character count.  I would prefer less limiting tagging.
It would seem I would prefer Facebook; however, Twitter is currently the more popular social network.  From what I've heard, the general consensus is Twitter is a better place to network.  I find this a very curious thought.  I can't speak for technical proficiency, but it would appear that Facebook has nearly all the features Twitter has for networking aside from tags.  But I think a mindset has developed on Twitter.  People have decided to feel more comfortable interacting with strangers on Twitter than on Facebook.  The same thing with sharing the posts of other people, and posting multiple things in a short time period.  I'd be very interested to see the proponents of Twitter approach Facebook with the same open mind, though that seems very unlikely.
I would love a future where Facebook developed a sophisticated tagging system and everybody went back to it.  In that scenario, everything Twitterers loved about Twitter would be available to them.  They could write shorter posts, write them frequently, share anybody's posts, connect with strangers, neglect a detailed "about me", and network with others through tags.  But at the least, I can say I tried out Twitter.  Until recently I had only used Facebook, but I tried out a new thing and decided with an open mind which I have a preference for. 
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kpopfanfictrash · 3 years
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Raise the Barre (Epilogue)
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Author: kpopfanfictrash
Creative Contributor: @baebae-goodnight​ for the last Raise the Barre moodboard TT she nailed it
Pairing: Jimin / Reader
Rating: 18+ (Smut)
Genre: Enemies to Lovers / Dance Academy!AU
Warnings: sexual content. Dry humping, fingering, hand job, oral (female), breast play, multiple orgasms, Jimin gets turned on by making someone else come, dirty talk. Jimin’s pants are tight.
Word Count: 13,409
Summary: You and Park Jimin have been rivals for as long as you’ve known one another; ever since he tripped you in the front row of your first dance convention. When you graduate from high school and enter Russet Ballet Academy, you tell yourself you’re leaving all past quarrels behind. The main problem with this though, is that your past seems determined not to leave you alone.
Worse still, the obstacles you face while out in the real world might prove more challenging than anything your enemy has to offer.  
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“And… more pointe shoes,” you said, opening the box in your lap. “Wow. Thanks, mom and dad.”
Your dad laughed, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “You’re welcome, kiddo,” he said, nodding from the couch. “I know Russet gives you some already, but you can never have too many.”
“Out of curiosity.” You glanced at the tree. “Are there any boxes from you which aren’t related to dance?”
“Not related to dance…” Your mom pretended to think. “I don’t understand.”
“Mom!”
She laughed. “I’m kidding! Yes, there are other presents. You just happened to pick all the pointe shoe boxes first.”
Shaking your head, you placed the box aside. You smiled though, warmth in your chest at being home for the holidays. Classes at Russet had ended a week prior and it had been nice for a few days to simply relax. Already though, you found yourself itching to return to the city. It was strange to wake every morning and not head to ballet. It was even stranger to take classes at your old studio, trying to stay in shape before second semester began.
Playing with the string of your sweatpants, you couldn’t help glancing at your phone on the couch. It had been several days since you’d last seen Jimin in person. Oddly enough, the separation had been harder than you’d thought it would be.
Immediately after ending things with Finn, you and Jimin had tried to keep your distance. The pain of your separation had been too fresh to even consider dating someone else but, as time had gone on, you and Jimin had started becoming friends again.
It was hard not to be, with Jimin continuing as your dance partner and classmate. At the end of the semester, you’d had the opportunity to switch partners, but you and Jimin had chosen the status quo. It just made sense this way; you couldn’t think of anyone else you’d trust as much as him.
At first, things between you were strictly professional. You saw him only within the confines of the dance studio but eventually, his presence bled into your normal life. At first, the outings were small. Jimin went to a pregame you also attended. He saw you once at the coffee shop and, instead of running away, he stopped to chat. One time, he walked you back to your dorm.
When the month became December, you found your outlook improving. Most of November had been spent wallowing in your dorm, but the holiday season brought with it endless activities. The very first weekend of the month, a bunch of your Russet friends decided to go ice skating and you’d ended up tagging along.
The biggest problem had been you’d never ice skated before. Noelle had been patient, skating backwards in front of you and dragging you around the rink. Jimin had done the same thing for Hoseok, who was in a similar predicament to yours, and at some point, they swapped partners and left you skating with Jimin.
When he’d taken over for Noelle, your stomach had swooped. Hands touching, he’d led you gently around the edge and the world had seemed to still. It had been the first time you’d felt anything stir outside of your break-up. Whatever hurt and distance had sprung between you, it seemed something had survived between you and Jimin.
Nose red, Jimin had smiled as he skated backwards. “It’s easy,” he’d told you. “You just swivel, Y/N. In and out, in and out. Got it?”
“Um, no!” you’d yelped, nearly crashing to the ice when Jimin let go of your hands.
He’d laughed, catching you easily and skating like that for a while. Eventually, Jimin had helped you off the rink and gotten hot chocolate, which you insisted on buying. Payback, you said, for the impromptu skating lessons.
That day had been a turning point for you both. Throughout the month prior, you’d texted sporadically but after, you seemed to talk every day.
Jimin even offered to drive you home from Russet, given the fact that your hometowns were so close together. After much hemming and hawing, you’d eventually taken him up on the offer. The savings it gave your bleeding bank account were well-worth the potential discomfort.
This had led to both the best and worst twenty-four hours of your life.
Best, because Jimin was an excellent road trip companion. He let you choose the music, laughed at all your dumb jokes, and agreed to play the road trip games you suggested. You’d already made a firm rule not to compare Jimin to any past boyfriends but couldn’t help but note this as an improvement over anyone prior.
The sole reason the twenty-four hours were also painful was because you stopped at a hotel halfway through. It was either this or drive until 3:00 AM, so you chose the smarter option and rested for the night. You and Jimin bought separate bedrooms, but they’d ended up next to one another, so you’d been forced to spend a sleepless night imagining Jimin separated from you only by a thin sheet of plywood.
You had told yourself this was silly. At Russet, Jimin hadn’t been much further away, but something about the closeness in the hotel made you nervous. It was infinitely easier to forget about boundaries when you were separated by only a car console for hours at a time. Infinitely easier to forget the rules when you were outside of Russet, cocooned by his car and the snow.
You couldn’t help but think about the one kiss you’d shared.
That had only been a taste, barely a teaser, but the memory kept you awake for more nights than it probably should have. You couldn’t help but wonder what it’d be like to kiss Jimin again, under different circumstances.
Groaning, you’d covered your face with a pillow that night and tried your best to sleep. It hadn’t really worked, and you’d shown up at the car the next morning with dark shadows beneath your eyes.
Forcing yourself back to the present, you glanced away from your phone and focused on the tree – only to see its screen light up in your peripheral. Grabbing your phone, you realized Jimin had texted. Stifling a smile, you scrolled through the conversation until you found his last message.
Jimin: MERRY CHRISTMAS! [10:23 AM]
Jimin: 
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Y/N: oh my god everything’s so... coordinated lol how long did that tree take to set up?  [10:24 AM]
Y/N: and merry Christmas 😊  [10:24 AM]
Jimin: not long at all. I just googled ‘christmas trees’ and that was the first one I found  [10:24 AM]
Y/N: ha ha hilarious  [10:25 AM]
Y/N: so, what are the Park family plans for the day?  [10:25 AM]
Jimin: the usual. Opening presents, going to my grandparents later for dinner. What about you?  [10:25 AM]
Y/N: same, minus the grandparents. We usually have a pretty low-key day  [10:26 AM]
Jimin: sounds nice  [10:26 AM]
Jimin: what’s your favorite present so far  [10:27 AM]
Y/N: 
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Jimin: LOL  [10:30 AM]
Jimin: how many of them did you get? I’ve gotten two new dance bags and seven pairs of black leggings. It’s like our parents have forgotten we do anything else  [10:31 AM]
Y/N: no new dance belts? 😈  [10:32 AM]
Jimin: Y/N, I’m shocked  [10:35 AM]
Jimin: mind out of the gutter. Stop thinking about my junk  [10:35 AM]
Y/N: as your dance partner, I have a vested interest in your junk. What if it breaks free in the middle of practice?  [10:38 AM]
Jimin: the more delicate ladies would faint, I imagine  [10:41 AM]
Jimin: and probably Paulo  [10:41 AM]
Y/N: lmao  [10:43 AM]
Y/N: but seriously, I hope you get presents other than dance gear  [10:43 AM]
Jimin: back at you haha  [10:47 AM]
Y/N: I can’t help but notice you didn’t get me, your dance partner, a Christmas gift though  [10:50 AM]
Jimin: was the drive home not enough?  [10:50 AM]
Y/N: oh, shoot. You’re right! You did get me a Christmas gift  [10:51 AM]
Y/N: I’m the one who’s been remiss  [10:51 AM]
Jimin: don’t forget about my housewarming gift, too  [10:52 AM]
You smiled, sitting back on the sofa. Jimin was lucky enough to be moving off campus second semester. He, Hoseok and Alex Wong were moving into an apartment not far from Paulo’s. You and Noelle had decided to stay in Grace Hall, but you’d talked about moving someplace else next year.
Jimin was heading back early to move into his new place, so you’d need a different ride on your return trip to Russet. Still, you were looking forward to Jimin’s apartment hosting parties in the new year.
Y/N: don’t get greedy on me now, Park  [10:54 AM]
“Who’re you texting?”
Jerking your head up from the screen, you nearly dropped your phone. From the couch opposite, your mom gave you a knowing look.
“No one,” you said hastily, setting your phone aside.
“Oh, really?” She glanced with your dad. “No one wouldn’t happen to have dark hair, his own car and excellent table manners, would he?”
Immediately, you felt your face heat.
When Jimin drove you home before Christmas, your parents had insisted on feeding him before he continued to Harleigh Heights. This had led to the weirdest double date of your life – which was, in fact, not a date – including you, Jimin and your parents for dinner. Luckily, your parents had been great and Jimin hadn’t cared, but you’d been endlessly mortified for your first date with Jimin to have included your parents.
Not that you’d called it a date. When Jimin had left that night, you’d brushed it aside and he’d simply gone along with it. After Jimin had left, you’d gone to your room and wondered what the hell you were doing. It was clear you still liked Jimin and wanted to be more than just friends. Still, something continued to hold you back.
You weren’t sure when it was considered appropriate to move on. The line seemed fuzzy, so you hadn’t dared cross it and Jimin hadn’t asked. You got the feeling you needed to be the one to make the first move – which made sense. You’d been the one who asked for more time. You’d told Jimin you’d say when you were ready.
Any next steps would have to come from you.
It had been weird to go home and not see Finn. His house was only fifteen minutes away from yours – you’d driven past it on your way to the grocery store last week. Still, seeing his home hadn’t caused the pain you’d expected. It was strange not to see him, but more like you’d forgotten something you needed to do, as opposed to missing his actual presence.
If you were being honest, Finn had crossed your mind less and less lately. Possibly because you’d been falling out of love with him long before you’d broken up in November.
Still, it would be unfair to jump into something before you were ready. You’d already hurt Jimin once this past fall and were determined not to do so again. No matter how good things had been lately between you, you didn’t want to make the mistake of dating Jimin too soon.
Despite this, things had become flirtier between you as of late. Exhibit A: casual text conversations about Park Jimin’s junk.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you said lightly.
Your dad laughed as he stood from the couch. “Alright, then,” he said, grabbing another gift. “How about you open this one next?”
Accepting the thin package he handed over, you frowned. The box wasn’t large and, shaking it slowly, you heard no sliding inside.
“I swear,” you said as you began to undo the bow. “If you wrapped your passport photo again, dad...”
Laughing, he settled back on the couch by your mom. “It’s not that, I promise.”
Grumbling, you opened the box and immediately froze. Staring at the paper inside, you slowly looked up. “Is this… is this what I think it is?”
“It’s a plane flight,” your mom said with a smile. “I know we’re supposed to drive you back on the third, but we thought you might want to celebrate New Year’s with your friends.”
“But…” Speechless, you returned to the box. “We always hang out together on New Year’s Eve.”
“I know,” said your dad. “But maybe it’s time to start some new traditions, kiddo.”
With that, he stood and took his mug to the kitchen. Sensing he wasn’t needed for this conversation any longer, he began washing dishes and to prepare breakfast. Once he was gone, your mom moved to your couch and settled beside you.
“I… this is too much,” you said, immediately backpedaling.
“It’s not.”
“Well…” Hesitant, you considered the possibilities. “I guess Ari will be in the city for New Year’s Eve. Maybe Noelle, too. She mentioned she might go back early.”
Gently, your mom smiled. “That’s great if you want to hang out with them, but… didn’t Jimin mention going back before New Year’s?”
Startled, you glanced up. You were surprised she’d remembered. Jimin had mentioned it briefly at dinner last week – he’d said he was moving off campus, which was why he’d needed to return home to pack.
“I – he might have,” you said cautiously.
“I see.” She paused. “I just… I don’t want you feeling like you need to hold yourself back, honey.”
“What do you mean by that?”
Your mom glanced meaningfully at your phone. “I’m glad you’re taking time to yourself,” she said slowly. “It’s important to know who you are and what you want. But also – don’t feel like you need to follow someone else’s timeline when it comes to moving on.”
“I know, but…” You trailed off. “We only broke up in November.”
She shrugged. “Only you know when you’re ready, honey. I just don’t want you to keep punishing yourself for something that’s over. You’re allowed to be happy, even if you’ve messed up in the past.”
Swallowing, you glanced again at the gift. The plane ticket was for the day before New Year’s Eve. Plucking it from the box, you sat back on the couch.
“But…” you said lowly. “Mom, it’s only been two months.”
“And are you still in love with Finn?”
“No.”
“And did you learn anything from what happened this fall?”
“I… Yes. A lot.”
“Good.” Reaching out, she squeezed your hand. “Learn the lessons you need to learn, and then move on. Self-flagellation isn’t productive, Y/N.”
You nodded, still uncertain about what she was saying. Her words made sense, but everything she was saying uncovered a dormant fear. You were scared. Scared of hurting someone else, scared of being hurt by someone else in return. Your last relationship had ended so badly, it was hard to convince yourself it might be worth it to try again.
Finally, you turned to face her on the couch. “Does it ever get any easier?” you asked. “This fear of being hurt… does it ever go away?”
Something sad passed over her face. “Yes and no,” she said, pulling back her hand. “You’ll never be as innocent as you were in your first love. There’s something special about loving someone and never having been hurt before. Once you’ve gone through that kind of pain, you aren’t the same after. But… it does get easier. And better. You’ll know more about how to support this time, instead of tearing down. How to make a love stronger, instead of hanging on.”
Something about this speech gave you comfort, and you slowly nodded. Again, what she said made sense but if there was one thing you’d learned from the fall, it was no matter how great the advice was, it was impossible to take if you weren’t ready to hear it.
You continued wondering if the risk would be worth it. No matter how much you felt for Jimin, you couldn’t help but remember how you’d felt breaking up with Finn. You hadn’t been in love with him at that point and it had still been so painful. It was terrifying to imagine loving someone again and having things end the same way.
Your mom was right, though. You couldn’t keep punishing yourself for something you couldn’t change. There were several ways you could move on from here. The main question to ask yourself was whether you wanted Jimin in the picture.
“Alright,” you said softly. “Thanks, mom.”
“Anytime.” Smiling, she stood and dusted off her pants. “I’m going to see if your dad needs help making breakfast. Don’t be too long, now!”
You nodded, watching her go, and then glanced at the ticket. Your mom’s words continued to run through your mind and after a moment, you picked up your phone.
Jimin had texted back.
Jimin: I would never!  [10:57 AM]
Y/N: hey, so  [11:01 AM]
Y/N: I did get one non-dance gift this year. A plane flight the day before New Year’s Eve  [11:02 AM]
Jimin: oh, wow! That was really nice of your parents  [11:03 AM]
Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes. When you opened them, you found yourself newly determined.
Y/N: when do you get back again?  [11:03 AM]
His ellipses started, then stopped, then started again.
Jimin: December 28th  [11:04 AM] 
Y/N: what are your New Year’s Eve plans?  [11:04 AM]
For a moment, he didn’t respond, and you felt your heart catch. Maybe you’d misread things. Maybe Jimin had moved on and didn’t care about you anymore. Maybe he didn’t want you to tell him you were ready.
Jimin: I’m free 😊  [11:05 AM]
Jimin: want to be my New Year’s Eve date?  [11:05 AM]
Smiling ear to ear, you responded.
Y/N: yes. Please  [11:06 AM]
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On the actual day of New Year’s Eve, you found yourself stressed beyond belief. Standing in front of the mirror of your dorm room, you adjusted your dress and worried over the hemline. Jimin had arranged to meet you around 7:00 PM and it was dangerously close to 6:55.
“Is the dress too short?” you asked, turning a little to face Noelle. “It is New Year’s Eve in the city. Should I wear pants, or something? Will I be cold?”
Noelle considered, then shrugged. “Just drink more. Problem solved!”
Snorting, you turned back to the mirror. Nervously, you smoothed down the front of your dress. You’d bought it at an after-Christmas sale and had fallen instantly in love. It had seemed perfect at the time, but now you were having second thoughts about the thin straps and tight bodice.
“Alright, so Y/N.” Noelle changed the subject. “Here’s the plan. Are you listening?”
Hiding a smile, you adjusted an earring. “Listening.”
“Good. Okay, so Ari and I will be at a party uptown. If the date goes badly, just say the word and we’ll call you a cab. You can be ringing in the new year with us within the hour.”
“Perfect,” you said. “It’s good to have a back-up.”
“It is.” Noelle paused. “Not that I think you’ll need this, of course.”
“Well, you never know.”
“Please.” She snorted. “What’s Jimin going to do? Be too charming? Too respectful of boundaries? Wear pants that show off his ass a little too much?”
“Noelle!”
She laughed, coming to a stop alongside you. Noelle wore a sparkly dress which made her skin glow, although this may have been the glitter dusted over her shoulders. Looking at herself in the mirror, she fluffed her hair.
“Seriously,” she said, meeting your gaze. “You’re going to be fine.”
“I know, I know.” Shaking out your arms, you forced yourself to exhale. “I’m just nervous, that’s all. It’s been a long time since I went on a first date.”
Noelle considered. “That’s true. Allow me to give you some dating tips, then.”
Laughing, you turned around and sat on the futon. “By all means.”
“Alright – number one.” Noelle removed lipstick from her purse. “Don’t order anything with garlic. I know, that sucks because garlic is everything, but no one wants to make out while they have garlic breath. Rule number two!”
“Whoa, whoa,” you said. “Who said anything about making out?”
Noelle gave you a pointed look. “Just in case it should happen…”
Shaking your head, you sunk back on the futon, but you knew she was right. Tonight was New Year’s Eve, after all. Ideally, you’d like to do more than kiss Jimin, but this seemed like too much of a jinx to say out loud.
Mentally, you agreed to the ‘no garlic’ rule.
“What else?” you prompted.
“Let’s see.” Noelle began to reapply her lipstick. “Relax.”
“What?”
Glancing at you in the mirror, she raised both brows. “I can see your shoulders tensing from here, babe. Just relax, okay? Tonight will be fine. You’re just hanging out with Jimin. You’ve done that before.”
“I know,” you groaned, lowering your face to your hands. “For some reason though, I’m very aware of the ‘date’ aspect of tonight. I don’t know why.”
When you looked up, Noelle gave you a sympathetic look, but before she could say more there came a knock at the door. Half-standing, you moved to open it, but Noelle shooed you back.
“Rule number three,” she said as she crossed the room. “Never answer the door for your own date.”
“What?” you laughed, although you sat back down on the futon.
Grabbing the handle, Noelle pulled open the door. Blocking you from view, she leaned her shoulder against the frame.
“Password?”
“What?” came Jimin’s voice, sounding confused.
“That’s correct!” Noelle stepped aside.
As you stood, you saw Jimin for the first time. He wore a pea coat over his outfit, his dark hair pushed back from his face in a devastating manner. When he saw you, Jimin froze, and you saw his eyes widen.
Silently, you congratulated yourself on having picked the right outfit. His gaze slowly trailed your body, lingering in places which made your cheeks heat. When he returned to your face, he slowly exhaled.
“Hey,” he said. “You… you look beautiful.”
Smiling back, you found yourself at a loss for words. “So do you.”
Jimin grinned and you stood there, smiling at each other like idiots until Noelle cleared her throat.
“Well,” she said, side-stepping Jimin to grab her coat. “I’m going to head over to Ari’s. You kids be safe, okay?”
“We will,” you laughed.
Noelle left in a flurry of kisses and glitter, waving goodbye as she stepped out the door. Jimin turned to face you once she was gone, offering a smile.
“Are you ready to go?” he asked. “I brought you these.”
From behind his back, he pulled out pink peonies, which made you gasp. They were your favorites, a little limp from the cold, but still beautiful. Taking them gently from him, you turned them over in your hands.
“They’re wonderful,” you said happily. “Thank you.”
Jimin smiled. “I’m glad you like them.”
Glancing around, you found a clean glass near the sink and filled this with water. Arranging the peonies on your desk, you took a step back and cocked your head. You’d always thought the idea of flowers on dates was kind of cheesy, but now that you’d experienced it in person, it seemed unimaginably sweet.
“There,” you said, turning back. “All set.”
Jimin smiled at this, then glanced at your bare arms. “You’re going to be cold without a coat,” he said. “That’d be a bad way to start off the new year.”
“Oh – duh,” you said, hurrying towards your wardrobe.
Pulling a coat out, you slipped this over your dress and buttoned the front. As you left the room, you turned off the lights and shut the door behind you. Jimin walked with you down the hall, continually glancing your way from the corner of his eyes.
You felt oddly shy, despite this being Jimin beside you. Jimin, who you’d known since you were teenagers. Jimin, who’d been both the utter bane of your existence, along with the single person you trusted most in the world. He’d tossed you up in the air and caught you no question and somehow, this felt like the most daring thing you’d ever done.
It was strange to walk beside him, out on a date whose future held a large question mark. Excitement and uncertainty warred in your stomach, which only seemed to exacerbate the situation. You felt as though you stood on the edge of a precipice, staring into a ravine with no discernable bottom.
As you left the building, snowflakes swirled in the sky up above and you looked up in surprise.
“Oh,” you exhaled, breath frosting before you. “I didn’t realize it was snowing!”
“Yeah.” Jimin grinned, tilting back his head. “Snow is my favorite weather, actually.”
“The wet and the cold does it that much for you, huh, Park?”
“That, and the romance of it all.”
Your smile softened a little as you fell into step alongside him. The snow continued to drift as you walked, melting as soon as it touched the pavement.
“So, where are we going?” you wondered, glancing at him. “You said you’d tell me once you picked me up and I’ve got news for you, Jimin. I’m here. I’ve been picked up.”
“Right, sure.” He shoved both hands in his pockets. “I made a reservation at this restaurant around the corner. The food’s really good so I hope you’ll like it.”
“I’m sure I will.”
“Huh.” Jimin paused. “That was easy.”
You shrugged. “I’m just excited for tonight. That’s all.”
His gaze softened a little when he glanced at you. “Me, too.”
Smiling, you continued to walk alongside him. New Year’s Eve in the city was a grand affair. The sidewalks were still lit with holiday lights, people hurrying past in brightly colored coats. Privately, you were glad Jimin had made a reservation at a restaurant instead of trying to brave a club or a bar. You’d heard horror stories from people who paid extravagantly to get into a club, only to spend the entire night waiting in line at the bar.
Turning the corner, you saw the restaurant Jimin had chosen and brightened. It was one you’d walked past several times and always wanted to try but had never found time.
Jimin held open the door as you entered. The inside still had their holiday decorations up, garland strung across every surface with tiny, white fairy lights hung up above. Everyone who was dining wore formal attire, laughing and chatting in the glow of the fireplace. The food smelled amazing and immediately, your mouth watered.
Joining the line at the hostess stand, you waited for the couple before you to leave and then Jimin stepped up.
“Park,” he told her. “Party of two.”
The hostess smiled, nodding as she flipped through her notebook. “One moment, please.” The longer she looked though, the more her face fell. After a moment, she glanced up. “Park, you said?”
“Yes.” Jimin nodded. “P-a-r-k.”
The woman nodded, flipping through her notebook again as though the name might magically appear.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, glancing up again. “There seems to be some kind of mistake. I don’t have you listed as a reservation.”
Jimin’s expression faltered. “Can you look again?” he asked, leaning forward.
The hostess nodded, running her finger down the numbered rows. “I can’t find you anywhere. Do you remember who you spoke with on the phone?”
“Rebecca.”
“Oh.” Her face immediately fell. “Rebecca left the restaurant last week. It seems a few reservations slipped through in the transition. Is there… well, before I do that – let me see what I can do,” she blurted out, turning around to rush into the restaurant.
Jimin watched her disappear and you saw his expression tighten.
Silence fell between you as you adjusted your coat. Jimin looked stressed and you weren’t sure what you should do about it. Frantically, you tried to remember times he’d been stressed during class, but before you could do or say anything, the hostess returned.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, looking harried. “The restaurant is completely booked up. I was trying to see if we could squeeze you in, but there’s just no room. I’m so sorry. Normally, only one person does the reservations, but we’ve been so busy lately...”
“It’s fine,” you said, jumping in. The poor woman looked like she was about to burst into tears. “Please, don’t worry about it. We’ll figure something out.”
Jimin glanced at you, surprised, and then nodded. “Yeah,” he agreed, returning to the hostess. “Thank you so much for your help – I appreciate you trying. We actually have a back-up reservation somewhere else, so don’t worry. We’ll come back another time!”
“Oh, really?” Her entire face brightened. “That’s so good to hear. New Year’s Eve, and all. Thank you for being understanding!”
“Yes, busy night,” Jimin said with a smile. “Take care of yourself!”
The woman nodded, seeming grateful when you stepped out of line. Jimin followed your footsteps, heading towards the door and then came to a stop. Slowly, he exhaled.
“So,” you said, turning to face him. “Where are these back-up reservations?”
Jimin winced and met your gaze. “I have none,” he admitted. “She just looked so sad. I wanted to put her out of her misery.”
“Wait.” Piecing this together, you paused. “Are you serious?”
“Yeah,” he said miserably. “I only made reservations here and that was super lucky, considering most places in the city have been booked for weeks. I don’t have any back-up plans.”
For a moment, you could only stare. “So, you said all that just so that poor hostess wouldn’t worry about a mistake her restaurant made?”
“I – well, yeah.”
You stared another moment, then started to laugh. It started out small but grew until eventually, you were wiping tears of mirth from your eyes.
Jimin watched you laugh, seeming thoroughly confused. “What’s so funny?”
“It’s just…” Shaking your head, you paused to catch your breath. “You’re unreal. Most people would be super stressed about New Year’s Eve plans falling through, but here you are lying to make a hostess’ night better.”
He blinked, still uncertain. “I’m… sorry about that.”
“Don’t apologize!” you insisted as you straightened. “It’s… wonderful,” you said to him shyly. “I like that about you.”
Slowly, his expression changed. “I really don’t have other plans, though,” he admitted. “I wasn’t lying about that. And I am stressed about my reservation falling through. I wanted this night to be perfect.”
The sweetness of this made your heart start to melt and newly determined, you nodded.
“We can fix this,” you said. “We’ll just go somewhere else.”
“Like where?”
“Like...” You paused. “We could hang out at my dorm. Or at your apartment! One of our kitchens has to be free, right? We could make dinner and hang out, watch the ball drop.”
“We could go to my place,” said Jimin slowly. “Hoseok and Alex are at a New Year’s Eve party uptown. We’d have the kitchen to ourselves.”
“Perfect,” you said. “Let’s go there.”
“I should warn you, though – I can only really cook one thing.”
“Spaghetti-o’s?”
“Okay, two things.”
You laughed. “So, what’s the first thing?”
“A pasta dish they taught us in Senior Foods class. But it’s nothing fancy.”
“Perfect.” You shrugged. “That will go nicely with my contribution of store-bought bread and olive oil.”
Jimin started to grin. “Alright, then, it’s settled. Let’s go to my place.”
You smiled when he opened the door, following him onto the sidewalk. Jimin’s new apartment was a few blocks away, but time passed quickly with him beside you. Oddly enough, the mishap at the restaurant seemed to have cleared some of the lingering awkwardness.
Noelle had been right, you realized – you had nothing to worry about while you were with Jimin.
He talked while you walked, detailing the ongoing fight at his apartment about some posters Hoseok wanted to hang. This segued into the general ridiculousness of New Year’s Eve – a topic you wholeheartedly agreed with.
“It’s stressful,” Jimin complained as you walked. “Everyone’s always asking about your resolution, you need to find someone to kiss at midnight, and there’s that super awkward moment with the countdown and your date…”
You laughed, grabbing a basket as you entered the grocery store. Jimin had suggested you stop by, since he didn’t have much food at his place.
“Doesn’t the countdown make it easier?” you joked. “It really dumbs the whole process down. Fool-proof.”
“Well, sure,” Jimin said. “But then you end up staring awkwardly at someone for ten seconds while you slowly lean forward and wonder when you should blink.”
Laughing, you reached on tiptoe for a loaf of bread. “Alright, you got me there,” you admitted. “I’ve never had a proper New Year’s Eve, anyways. I’ve always been dating someone and then, it’s just kind of assumed you’ll kiss. None of the magic you see in the movies.”
Jimin nodded. “Most of that’s just movie magic, though. You aren’t missing much – trust me.”
“I don’t know,” you said as you turned the next corner. “The anticipation sounds kind of nice. Wondering if someone will kiss you back, if they’re thinking about you the same way you are…”
Jimin made a humming noise, low in his throat.
Coming to a stop, he reached overhead to grab some pasta. Putting this in your basket, Jimin casually brushed your arm as you met his faze. Fighting back a shiver, you tried to remember what you’d been saying.
Giving a smile, Jimin continued forward and kept shopping. You stared after him a moment before your gaze dropped to his ass. Inhaling quickly, you remembered Noelle’s comment about Jimin’s tight pants. She hadn’t been wrong about that. Hurrying along, you quickly caught up.
Grabbing another jar, Jimin placed this in the basket. When he caught your eye again, he grinned, his hair falling forward. The sight made your heart flip-flop in your chest.
As you entered the check-out line, Jimin came to a stop alongside you. His gaze traveled the store, eyes widening when he glanced over your shoulder.
“What’s that?” Jimin gasped.
Startled, you turned. “What’s – hey!” you blurted when he took your basket.
Grinning widely, Jimin placed the food before the cashier. “Too slow.”
“Jimin, come on,” you said, slightly flustered. “I can pay. I –”
“You can pay next time, if you want.”
This shut you up and you stared at him a moment before you stepped forward.
“There’s… going to be a next time?” you said.
Jimin glanced in your direction. “If you want there to be.”
“I do,” you said softly, and he smiled.
Taking another step forward, he pulled out his wallet to pay and you let him – this time, anyways. Outside, it seemed to have grown colder since your arrival and you shivered as you exited the shop. Noticing this, Jimin immediately undid his scarf from around his neck.
“Here,” he said, handing it over. “I don’t need this.”
“But then you’ll be cold,” you pointed out, accepting it anyways.
“I’ll jog in place to keep warm.”
“… With me walking beside you?”
“Yep.”
You laughed, even more so when Jimin began to demonstrate. He jogged for a few steps, then slowed to a walk.
“Changed my mind,” he said with a wince. “I’d rather be cold.”
You laughed, cheeks starting to hurt from both this and the wind. Jimin’s apartment wasn’t far, although it did turn out to be a third-floor walk-up. This left you slightly winded when you arrived at his place, to which Jimin shrugged and said the rent had been cheap.
Opening his front door, he led the way into – boxes. Tons of them, although most of the furniture had been set up around them. Jimin fumbled for a light, flicking this on and setting down the groceries.
“Most of the boxes are Alex’s,” he sighed, looking around. “Hoseok and I have a secret deal we’re going to unpack him ourselves if he doesn’t do it by Monday.”
“That doesn’t sound like much of a detriment to Alex.”
“I never said what we planned on doing with his things once we unpacked.”
You laughed, undoing your coat to set aside. Glancing around, you saw Jimin was right. Most of the boxes were scrawled in the same handwriting. Beyond them, you saw the living room had been mostly set up with a couch and TV.
To your right lay the kitchen, in which Jimin was already unloading the groceries. Beyond him was a hallway, through which you assumed were their bedrooms and bathrooms. Wandering back to Jimin, you realized he was staring.
“What?” you said, coming to a stop. “Did I spill something on my dress in the store?”
“No,” Jimin murmured, shaking his head. “I just… I know I said this before, but you really do look incredible.”
“Oh.”
Looking at him, you felt your face growing hot. Jimin smiled and ducked his head, resumed pulling things out of the bag. Stepping from your shoes to place in the hall, you returned to the kitchen and pulled out a stool.
Sitting down, you propped your chin in your hand. “Aren’t you going to take off your coat?”
Glancing down, Jimin blinked. “Oh,” he laughed, undoing the buttons. “I forgot I was wearing it.”
You smiled, but this quickly disappeared when you saw what he was wearing. Jimin had worn a dark blazer and trousers, paired with a paisley shirt and black boots. He looked ridiculously good and again, Noelle’s comment about his ass came to mind.
She’d been correct – his pants were well-shaped and well-formed.
After removing both coat and shoes, Jimin returned to the kitchen and pushed a hand through his hair. You watched him get to work, leaning forward a bit when he began to dice vegetables. Immediately, your brows raised. It seemed Jimin had undersold his skills in the kitchen.
When you said as much, he laughed.
“Maybe a little,” Jimin said. As he pushed veggies from the cutting board, the pan began to sizzle. “It’s all part of my master plan. Set expectations low, then over-deliver.”
“It’s working,” you said with a laugh. “You seem pretty damn impressive to me.”
Jimin’s cheeks reddened. “You’re just saying that.”
“Why would I lie?”
“I seem to remember some shocking texts about my junk and dancer’s belts. You could just be after my body, Y/N.”
“I – that’s not!”
He looked up and grinned. “Kidding.”
Flustered, you blurted, “That wasn’t nice!”
Jimin laughed. “I’m sorry.”
You huffed, waiting a minute before you continued. “You do look really good right now, though,” you said softly.
He looked up, eyes wide. As much as Jimin said he enjoyed being liked, it seemed to throw him for a loop whenever you said you liked him. It made you pause, mulling over this for a minute.
“You seem surprised,” you said quietly. “Whenever I say things like that, you always look surprised.”
“Well…” Jimin hesitated. “I just think… there’s been a lot of times where I never thought this would happen. It feels kind of unreal have you here. In my kitchen. On a date.”
“Times after November?”
Jimin paused.
Your brow furrowed. “Before then?”
Opening the pasta, Jimin added this to the pot. He stared into the steam, slowly exhaling before he looked up.
“Let’s just say I’ve wanted this for a while,” he admitted.
“What? But you hated me before Russet.”
“I…” Jimin trailed off. “Kind of. It’s complicated.”
When he failed to elaborate and returned to his cooking, your eyebrows shot up.
“Uh, no,” you laughed. “You can’t just say that and not explain what you mean. What are you talking about?”
Jimin winced as he set down his spoon. “Okay,” he said, gripping the counter. “I guess what I’m saying is I never really hated you. Not truly.”
“You didn’t.”
“No.” He spoke flatly.
“But…” Confused, you searched his face. “You’ve hated me ever since we met, Jimin. That first weekend at NUVO dance competition. We were both called out to demonstrate and you tripped me!”
“Well, maybe that’s not exactly what happened.”
“What are you talking about?”
Jimin released a low breath. “Okay, so here’s the thing. That weekend happened a little differently from my perspective.”
“How so?”
“We were both called out to demonstrate,” he said, repeating your words. “But I hadn’t seen you before then. When we both reached center and I turned and saw you – I froze. I couldn’t remember how to act. Every thought I’d ever had just… flew out of my head.”
You stared at him, speechless.
“I didn’t know what to do,” Jimin continued softly. “I’d never felt like that before. When you started to dance, it only got worse. I’d never seen someone dance like you did. That’s why I entered the combination late. That’s why I was in the wrong spot at the wrong time and that’s why I accidentally tripped you. I was… well, I was distracted.”
“By me,” you whispered. “You were distracted by… me?”
“Yeah.”
“So,” you said, breath catching. “This entire time, you haven’t really hated me?”
“Ah, I don’t know about that.” Jimin rubbed the back of his neck. “You could be really infuriating,” he said with a laugh. “There were times when you genuinely pissed me off. I meant it when I said I wanted to win against you. But also… I don’t know. I never really forgot the first time I saw you.”
“Oh,” you whispered, unsure what you were feeling.
It made your head spin to hear this different version of events. Jimin hadn’t hated you – at least, not in the same way you had. He hadn’t been the one to make the first move after all. You had when you’d decided not to listen to his apology.
“Oh my god,” you groaned, burying your face in your hands.
“Hey – what’s wrong?”
Dropping his spoon to the counter, Jimin came around and stood beside you. Keeping your head down, you refused to look up until Jimin touched your arm.
“I just,” you exhaled, turning to face him. “It was my fault. This entire time, I thought you hated me and that’s why I hated you. But instead, I just decided to hate you – and for what?”
Jimin’s upper lip twitched. “I wasn’t entirely blameless, you know. I was such a little shit at that age. I wouldn’t have believed me, either.”
“You tried to apologize, though!”
“Hey.” Gently, he gripped your elbows. “If it makes you feel any better, I did trip people just to get to the front. I was an ass. It’s why that Jungkook guy hates me. I started dancing later in life, so I was really hung up on proving myself.”
“Yeah, but it wasn’t true,” you told him. “You didn’t trip me on purpose, and if I’d only been less stubborn –”
“Whoa, hey.” Jimin smiled. “You weren’t the only stubborn one. Maybe it started off as a misunderstanding, but I didn’t really fight it. You were my competition as much as I was yours.”
“I guess,” you said quietly. “I just… I feel like I wasted so much time hating you. Maybe we could’ve even been friends.”
His gaze sparked. “Just friends?” he asked with a quirk of his brow.
“Jimin,” you groaned, but started to smile.
“Listen.” Expression softening, Jimin moved closer. “Even if I had decided to explain all this in high school, would you have believed me?”
“Probably not.”
“Exactly. I was a dick back then.” He nodded. “Remember that one time I lied and told you the awards ceremony had been pushed back an hour?”
Sitting up straighter, you glared. “Oh, I remember. I showed up after they’d already taken the photo for Top Junior solos.”
Jimin grinned. “Or the time I put an out of order sign on the women's restroom after your solo at BRAVO, so you had to run all the way across the auditorium?”
“That was you!” you blurted out, wide-eyed. “No one would believe me when I said it was! Every girl was so pissed off at you that weekend.”
“Which is exactly why I could never admit it was me!”
In disbelief, you shook your head. “You did all of that just to get back at me?”
Jimin’s smile disappeared. “Hey, you weren’t innocent either,” he argued. “Remember the time you spilled an entire water bottle next to my bag so that when I sat down, my ass got all wet?”
Devious, you smiled. “Honestly, there was kind of an ulterior motive there. As much as I hated you, your ass looks great in damp sweats.”
Jimin’s jaw dropped a little.
Managing to shut this, he took a casual step forward. “Is that what you thought?” he murmured, barely able to conceal the thickness in his voice.
“I… may have noticed a few things about you.”
When he placed a hand next to you on the counter, your breath hitched in response. Jimin repeated this with his other hand, bringing his body a step closer to yours.
Hesitant, his gaze roamed your face. “What else did you notice?”
“I…” you exhaled and glanced at his lips.
The air between you could have been cut with a knife, heated for a different reason than the stove beside you. Which – eyes widening, you glanced over.
“Shit!” you blurted. “Jimin, the pasta!”
Startled, he looked in the same direction as you and realized the water was boiling. Rushing away, Jimin entered the kitchen and turned down the burner. Now that you were separated by a solid counter, you felt somewhat dazed when you glanced up and saw him.
Meeting your gaze, Jimin came to a stop. “Anyways,” he said softly. “Now, you know. I didn’t trip you on purpose. I never really hated you. And I’m incredibly glad you’re here tonight.”
Watching him speak, something warm bloomed in your chest.
“Me, too,” you whispered.
Smiling, Jimin returned to the pasta and you settled back on the stool. Delicious scents soon filled the kitchen and you realized how truly hungry you were. You hadn’t eaten much at lunch in preparation and by now, you were famished.
It wasn’t long before Jimin placed pasta onto plates, adding the bread you’d cut up on the side. He brought these to his table, disappearing briefly to return with two candles.
“Oo,” you said as you took a seat. “Fancy.”
Jimin lit the one closest to you with a flourish. “We aim to please, here at Park Jimin’s Fine Eating and Dining.”
“Is that the name of your restaurant?”
“It is.”
“And you’re set on that decision?”
“I decided on a whim, but I have no regrets,” Jimin said, taking a seat across from you. “Now, eat before you piss off the chef and he takes back your food.”
Laughing, you dug into the pasta before you. It was delicious and, after the very first bite, you sighed in appreciation. Apparently, Jimin had truly set the bar low. Conversation began to flow, any lingering tension disappeared after talk of your past.
It was the oddest thing. You’d heard stories from friends about other first dates. They worried about how to behave, what to wear, or what to say to their date – but none of these worries seemed to exist for you in the moment. You’d been so concerned before the night began, but now that you were here, all these worries seemed to fly out the window.
You’d thought you’d spend the entire night comparing. Comparing Jimin to your last relationship, comparing Jimin as a date to Jimin as a friend, but instead, it felt like natural progression. It wasn’t a matter of comparing Jimin to anyone else, but rather simply enjoying where the night led.
After dinner, you insisted on helping clean because Jimin had cooked and bought the food. Donning rubber gloves over your dress, you stood at the sink and began to wash dishes. Jimin laughed as he joined, pulling on gloves to dry the dishes beside you. Once this was done, he suggested watching a movie before the ball dropped.
Collapsing onto the sofa, you adjusted your dress and scanned the room. The posters Jimin had bemoaned were now hung over the TV – you wondered if Hoseok had managed to somehow sneak them past his roommates. Small touches here and there made you think of Jimin.
A game he’d mentioned was out on the coffee table and a blanket which smelled like him was draped over a chair. Pulling this towards you, you wrapped it around yourself as Jimin left the kitchen.
Holding two glasses of wine, he paused when he saw you.
“What?” you said, glancing down.
“Nothing.” Jimin cleared his throat. “Are you cold?”
“A little,” you admitted, tugged his blanket closer.
“Shoot.” Jimin frowned. “The heat’s been weird since we moved in. I’m not sure how to fix – oh!” Setting the glasses down, he rushed towards the hall. “Do you want a sweatshirt?” he called.
“Yes, please!”
Jimin reappeared moments later, a navy sweatshirt in hand. Handing this over, he settled beside you on the sofa. He’d ditched his blazer and now, Jimin was dressed in only the paisley shirt and slacks.
Pulling his sweatshirt overhead, you somehow managed to get stuck right away. It was hard not to, with your hair and the dress, trying not to flash him while you kept your legs crossed.
After a moment of watching your undignified struggling, Jimin cleared his throat.
“Need help?”
“Yes, please,” you said weakly.
Jimin laughed, helping you free and once the hoodie was settled, you sighed and leaned back. Glancing sideways at Jimin, you found him already looking at you.
“What do you want to watch?” you asked.
Jimin blinked, then glanced at the TV. “Hm,” he mused, grabbing the remote. “We could watch the ball drop and enjoy the fact that we’re sitting inside, not standing in the freezing cold without any bathrooms.”
“I know!” you said with a shudder. “Out of all the stupid traditions, that’s one I’ll never understand.”
“How do so many people have it on their bucket list?”
“Right? That, and the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade. Zero out of ten. It’s cold, there’s wind and again, there’s the question of bathrooms.”
Jimin laughed as he scrolled through the channels. “Alright, so no to the ball drop. Want to watch a movie?”
“Sure.”
“What movie?”
“Why’re you making me pick?” you whined, sinking deeper into his cushions. “That’s such a large amount of pressure.”
“Exactly, which is why I don’t want to do it.”
You laughed and after some back and forth, decided to watch About Time. This was a movie about obstacles and falling in love, which seemed more than fitting because of the new year. At first, you and Jimin were watching diligently but eventually, he asked a question and conversation slowly drifted from the movie.
At some point, Jimin lowered the volume to focus solely on you. You curled deeper into the couch beside him, your thighs somehow touching and shoulders inches apart. Jimin’s head leaned against the cushion and he continued to smile in a way which made your heart flip.
“Here’s a question,” you murmured, no longer pretending to watch the movie.
His eyes gleamed in the darkness. “What?”
“Why’d you tell Sabrina you only wanted to be friends?”
Briefly, his eyes widened. “How did… you know about that?”
“She told me.”
“Hm.” Jimin gave you a dubious look but moved past it. Sabrina had begun hanging out with your friends as of late. “But alright, I’ll answer. If I do though, you need to answer one of my questions. Deal?”
“Deal.”
“So, I was single when I came to Russet.” Jimin paused. “It was the first time in a long time, and I may have hooked up with a couple of people.”
“Hm,” you said tightly.
His eyes danced with amusement. “Jealous?”
“Answer the question.”
He laughed. “Anyways, I only hooked up with Sabrina the one time. Afterwards…” Jimin sighed. “I felt kind of weird about her asking me to switch partners. Then I overheard what she said about Ari at weigh-ins and just didn’t feel like anything more... Plus, there was the other reason.”
“And what was the other reason?”
“I was starting to like you,” he said, a bit softer. “The day you said you wanted to be friends was a giant weight from my chest. And the more relaxed you were around me, the more… I don’t know. The more I liked you, I guess. My mom has always called me her hopeless romantic,” Jimin said with a smile. “I don’t know about that, but I can be single-minded when I like someone. That was part of the reason I told Sabrina we shouldn’t hook up anymore.”
“Oh,” you whispered.
His smile turned lopsided. “Does that answer your question?”
“Yeah. I guess it does.”
“My turn, then.” Smile disappearing, his gaze darkened. “Why did you really call me that night at the club?”
“Oh. That. Well, I –”
“And don’t say it was because I had a car,” Jimin interrupted. “There were a lot of people you could’ve called to help. You didn’t, though. You called me. Why?”
You hesitated before you realized there was only one answer. “I wanted to see you,” you said honestly. “I was scared, I was alone and… you were the person I wanted to see.”
Jimin’s gaze had become nearly black, the air between you thick with something unsaid. You were suddenly conscious of all each part of your body pressed to his. When Jimin shifted on the couch, you moved somehow closer.
He hesitated, then glanced at your mouth. “I don’t…” Jimin licked his lips, sounding hoarse. “I don’t want to do anything you’re not ready for.”
“You won’t,” you told him.
Something uncertain passed over his face. “Maybe we should take things slow.”
“Or,” you said slowly. “I could tell you things I like about you, instead.”
“And what would be the point of that?”
Your gaze shifted to his. “You’ve told me a lot tonight about how much you like me,” you said softly. “About how long you’ve liked me. I think it’s time I returned the favor.”
Something in his gaze cracked and he nodded. The TV in the background was quiet, only the noise from the street and the whoosh of the heater breaking the silence.
“First,” you said, glancing down at his lap. “You have really nice hands.”
Jimin’s lips twitched. “My hands? I’ve always thought they were small.”
“Wrong. They’re the perfect size. Never have they dropped me.”
“Mm, that’s a good point.”
“And your smile,” you said.
“What about it?”
“I like your smile,” you told him. “It makes me smile.”
His eyes crinkled in demonstration. “Oh, yeah?”
“And your ears.”
Jimin laughed. “My ears?”
Reaching out, you delicately traced over an edge. “I’ve spent a long time looking at your profile, Park. I know what I’m talking about here.”
As your fingers moved lower, feather-light down his jaw, Jimin’s smile disappeared.
“I like your jaw, too,” you told him.
In the darkness, his gaze glinted, and you felt his jaw tense.
“And your lips,” you added, gaze lowering. “I like those a lot.”
“Y/N…” Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut.
“Yeah?”
He slowly exhaled. “I just don’t want you to regret this.”
“Jimin.”
He opened his eyes.
Your expression was serious. “I told you I wouldn’t jump into something before I was ready,” you said, lifting your other hand. “But I’m not in love with Finn anymore. It doesn’t hurt when I think about what happened last semester. I like you, Jimin. I want you. I don’t want to keep pushing you away. I get if you’re unsure about this, though. If you’re unsure about me.”
Jimin’s gaze roamed your face. “Unsure?”
“I know I hurt you before. I shouldn’t have kissed you and ran away. But I promise this isn’t like that. I’m not running away. I’m the furthest thing from running and I –”
Cutting you off, Jimin pressed his lips to yours.
You shuddered a little, leaning into his kiss before he pulled back. Jimin exhaled, barely a breath before he kissed you again.
Noses brushing, lips lingering, the kiss slowly deepened. Your hands curled into his hair, pulling him forward to bask in his warmth. It was dizzying, how different this felt than last time. Last time you’d been heartbroken, desperately yearning each time your lips had touched.
Now, Jimin felt like air, like sunshine as you drowned in his presence. Hand grasping your waist, Jimin moved you closer so your chest nestled to his. Lifting his fingers, his touch skimmed your jaw, your hairline before he circled the nape of your neck.
Drawing away, he bit down on your lip. With a low sort of moan, Jimin sought your lips again. When his mouth opened yours, his tongue swept forward and you nearly combusted.
This was only to tease, though. Only to taste before he pulled away, pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. Thumb skimming your jawline, Jimin tilted your head back to brush a kiss to your throat. Moving higher, he worshiped a slow path up the column of your neck. At your ear, he nipped gently before he returned.
Now, his kisses began to deepen. Mouths opening, your tongues brushed only briefly before he chose to withdraw. You were glad you were kissing on the couch, because suddenly your own legs felt weak underneath you.
Hand re-gripping his waist, Jimin pulled you against him. Eager, your hands found his neck and the blanket dropped to the floor. It wasn’t enough, though – you needed more, wanted to feel him fully beneath you. Rising on your knees, you swung a leg over his lap and settled on top.
Jimin hissed, his head hitting the back of his couch. Your dress had ridden up in the process, exposing your thighs – his thumbs skimmed the surface before he looked up.
“Shit,” Jimin croaked.
Smiling, you bent to kiss him again. Jimin arched upwards, each part of your body electric where you touched. He shifted his hips, granting friction and heat which made you short-circuit. Pressing yourself closer, your thighs sild backwards until they nestled around his waist.
Jimin’s hand found your spine, pulling you closer as his hips pushed upwards. You groaned when you felt him shift underneath you. The kisses grew steadily hotter, this ache in your core increasing with every touch.
“Can I…” Pulling away, Jimin glanced lower. “Can I take off the sweatshirt?”
“Yeah,” you said, a bit dazed.
Jimin didn’t waste time, helping you pull this swiftly overhead. It was tossed on the ground and when your dress was revealed, he inhaled.
Slipping his hands up your bodice, Jimin met your gaze. “I’ve wanted to do this for so long,” he confessed, his voice hoarse.
“Do what?”
Your breath hitched when his hands skimmed your breasts, lingering in all your softest places.
“Touch you,” Jimin said. “It was torture to see you, to look at you and not be able to do this. Not how I wanted, anyways. I’d tell myself not to think about it, but…”
“Jimin.”
He paused and looked up. “Yes?”
“Touch me. Please.”
Without hesitation, Jimin slid his hands lower. Cupping your ass, he pulled you against him and allowed his other hand to drift up your spine. You shivered, closing your eyes as your head tilted back.
His hands slid up your front, over your breasts and under the straps of your dress. Jimin’s thumbs drifted lower, brushing your nipples through the fabric of your bodice. Opening your eyes, you looked down at him and saw his gaze darken.
Reaching higher, Jimin cupped the back of your neck and returned your lips to his.
He kissed you slowly, purposefully as you melted forward. Shifting against him, the kiss began to intensify. Mouths opening, your tongue swept forward in bold strokes against his. Suppressing a whimper, you ground your hips on his lap.
“Is,” you murmured, breaking free. “Is your bedroom unpacked?”
Jimin went still. “I – mostly, yeah.”
“Can I see it?”
“Fuck, yes,” he groaned, releasing your thighs as he stood from the couch.
You laughed, sliding down his front as your feet hit the ground. Tugging your dress down, you followed Jimin when he grabbed your hand. He pulled you down the hall, coming to a stop at the last room on the row. Pushing open the door, he flicked on the light and came to a stop.
Stepping forward, you glanced around Jimin’s room. You recognized some of the items from the two times you’d visited Jimin in the dorms. Photos of his family were carefully hung on the wall and he had the same pillows laid over his queen-sized bed.
Turning around, you took a step backwards and sat on his bed. “It’s nice,” you said, patting the comforter. “I like it here.”
Jimin watched you, his gaze half-lidded from the hall. “I like you here.”
Cheeks heating, you watched him enter and gently shut the door. Leaning back on your elbows, you arched a brow.
“Where’d we leave off?”
Jimin exhaled as he crossed the room. “I think you were on my lap,” he said hoarsely, kneeling beside you.
You nodded, moving to straddle him as he leaned to the wall. Catching your waist with both hands, Jimin pulled you against him, kissing you roughly even before you sat down. Suddenly ravenous, his hands slid to your ass as he rolled you against him. Inhaling sharply, you sucked his lower lip between teeth as he groaned.
Reaching up, Jimin tugged on your hair as you inhaled, throat exposed for him to kiss slowly down your front. When he returned to your lips, you ground your hips impatiently over the bulge in his pants.
Shifting his weight, Jimin’s spine hit the wall. He stared at you, slightly dazed with his kiss-reddened lips. Without looking away, Jimin lifted his fingers and began undoing his shirt. You stilled, watching each inch of skin be revealed. When he reached the last button, you gave in and helped push this aside. Smiling, Jimin sat up as his shirt fell to the floor.
You weren’t sure where to look first. Hands faltering, you slid them up his abs, over his shoulders and down his biceps. He was so perfect, it almost hurt to look at. Jimin’s breath quickened as you touched him and slowly, he lowered you down to the bed.
“Enough,” he said roughly, returning your lips to his.
As you kissed it turned lazy, nothing but grinding and touching. Jimin’s hair was messy beneath the pull of your fingers. He didn’t seem to mind, his own hands digging into the curve of your thigh. Playing with the hem of your dress, he deftly slid upwards.
“Jimin,” you said, breaking free. “Unzip me.”
His gaze darkened. “Are you sure?”
“Yes.”
Jimin nodded, following suit when you sat up beside him. Turning around, you exposed your back and Jimin began to lower the zipper. He moved slowly, taking his time as his fingers brushed skin. Holding the dress up with your hands, you waited until it was fully unzipped before releasing it to the floor.
Turning around, you found Jimin’s jaw slack.
“You…” He roughly inhaled while he scanned your body. “Lace, Y/N? Really?”
“Do you like it?” you asked.
You may have gone overboard preparing for tonight. Although you hadn’t been sure what would happen, you also hadn’t wanted to be caught off your guard. Tonight, your constant need to plan had come in handy. Beneath your dress you’d worn a crimson lace bra and panties – a matching set which Jimin seemed to like, based on his expression.
“You’re going to kill me,” he muttered, lowering his lips to your neck.
Kissing slowly down your chest, he came to a stop where the two halves joined together. Skimming the length of your torso, his hands trembled a little when he brushed the lace.
Jimin looked up. “I’m sorry I keep touching you,” he murmured. “I just – you’re driving me crazy. You’ve been driving me crazy.”
“You said that before,” you whispered.
“I meant it.”
Kissing again up your body, he lingered in places your skin was exposed. Inhaling, your eyes fluttered shut as you grasped his shoulders.
Jimin’s hand slid between your thighs. “Part them,” he murmured, and you obeyed.
Heart racing, you opened your eyes and watched Jimin drag a finger slowly up the center of your panties. Even you could feel how damp the fabric was, how wet and ready you were for him.
Lifting his finger to his lips, Jimin sucked. “You’re soaking,” he breathed, sounding eager. “So good to me.”
Lowering his head, his tongue flicked your breast. Teasing the nipple through fabric, he urged and he sucked until it was fully erect. Moving onto the next one, Jimin grazed with his teeth until it pressed wantonly into the lace cup of your bra. Moaning his name, you arched against him.
Finding your wrists, Jimin pinned you backwards as he continued. Thighs caging your waist, he kept you hostage with his exquisite torture. The lace of your bra was now drenched, Jimin sucking debauchedly through fabric.
“Jimin,” you groaned, twisting on the sheets. “Please.”
His hips rolled lazily against your center. “Not yet,” he insisted before pulling back. “Not until you make a mess of my sheets. Want to ruin these panties.”
Sliding a hand between your thighs, he lightly circled your entrance. Feeling how wet you were, Jimin softly groaned. Sitting back on his heels, he finally relented and pulled your panties down. Tossing these to the floor, he returned to your thighs and spread your legs.
Lightly, Jimin dragged the pads of his thumbs up and down your panty line. “God, you’re so perfect,” he murmured. “Got my sheets fucking soaked.”
Separating two of his fingers, he slowly dragged his digits up and down your folds. You inhaled, feeling needy while you watched him touch you. Each brush of his fingers had you dripping – teasing over your entrance, he refused to give you exactly what you wanted. Feather-light, Jimin circled your swollen clit with his finger.
Hands gripping the sheets, you could only stare while Jimin brought you closer and closer to the edge. He was barely touching you, but it was the most turned on you’d ever been in your life. Jimin’s thumb swiped over your clit, rubbing you gently as you keened in frustration, arching against him.
He continued like this until you were gasping, begging for more and then – only then – did he slide a finger inside you. Legs trembling, you arched on his mattress and stared at him, glassy-eyed. When Jimin began to move in and out, you lost all control.
Lowering his head, he closed his lips over your clit.
“Oh my god,” you whimpered as you broke apart.
Barely did he suck before you were coming undone, pulsing around his fingers. Shuddering with pleasure, you collapsed on the bed as you rode out your high. Gently, Jimin pulled out his finger and returned to your lips.
Reaching behind you, he undid the clasp of your bra and tossed this on the floor. Once you were fully naked, he pulled you against him. You felt limp, thoroughly sated, but familiar excitement began to stir at his front pressed to yours. Tilting your head, he gently kissed you while your fingers wound in his hair.
Jimin moved slow, letting you take the lead. Your core continued to throb with oversensitivity, although this seemed to lessen the longer you kissed him. Before long, your nipples were hardening as you rubbed against him. Fingers digging into your thigh, Jimin pulled this over his hip to watch you lazily grind.
Realizing he still wore pants, you lowered a hand, determined to fix this. Jimin helped, dragging the zipper down to throw both these and his boxers down on the floor.
He bent to kiss you again, but you placed a hand on his chest. “Wait,” you murmured. “I want to see you.”
Jimin exhaled, leaning back so you could take in his body. If you’d thought his chest was unreal, it was nothing compared to his trim hips, sculpted thighs and cock nestled between.
“Oh,” you said, dragging a hand down his front.
Jimin shuddered a little. He was already hard, his cock thick and pretty with a reddened tip. It made your mouth water to look at, wanting to lick up the shaft. Reaching between you, you closed your fist around him and slowly jerked him off.
You watched in fascination as Jimin responded. His jaw tightened, abs tense while you teased over his frenulum. His cock responded instinctively, hardening further the longer you touched him.
After a few minutes of this, Jimin shook his head. “No more,” he said huskily, taking your hand in his. “I’ll come if you keep doing that.”
“Oh?” you murmured, gaze darting lower.
He chuckled, a rough sound in his throat. “I like watching you come,” Jimin confessed, his cock hard between you. “It turns me on. I’m… still trying to recover from your last orgasm.”
“Oh,” you said, in a completely different way.
Jimin exhaled, hair falling forward. “I hope that doesn’t weird you out.”
“Does it… weird me out that you like giving orgasms?”
“Well, when you put it like that.”
“How else would I put it?”
His grin became devious. “You could ask for another.”
Breathless, you nodded and Jimin’s gaze darkened.
He descended your body, not wasting any time as he positioned himself between your legs. Licking slow up your center, you gasped and instinctively drew your legs higher. Jimin didn’t bother easing you into it. No, now he ate you out like he wanted to.
Kissing your folds, he returned to your clit and sucked this into his mouth. Rolling the sensitive bud with his tongue, he teased and released before you knew what was happening. He continued to do this, spreading you underneath him and bringing you close to coming, only to pull back and leave you maddeningly empty.
Spreading your folds, he began licking sweetly over your clit. This was followed by loose, lazy sucking and more tender flicks. You stared dazedly at him between your legs, the sight more erotic than anything you could’ve imagined.
Grinding his cock into the sheets, Jimin thrust his hips while he pleasured you. You could tell he enjoyed this; each grunt from his lips was more affirmation. Moving lower, he circled your cunt with his tongue just to lap up your juices. You gasped at the sensation, having never felt it before. Flicking your clit with his thumb, Jimin fucked your cunt with his tongue before he slowly withdrew.
Spreading you wide, he returned to your clit and you clasped a hand over your lips before a moan could escape. Each curl of his tongue left you gasping, writhing beneath the pleasurable onslaught of his mouth. Pulling away, Jimin pressed a gentle kiss to your thigh before he rose up your body.
At your mouth, he kissed your fingers. “You don’t have to be quiet,” he told you. “I want to hear the noises you make, Y/N. It makes me feel good.”
Removing your hand, you slowly nodded.
Jimin just grinned, dropping between your legs to begin eating you out again. This time, you didn’t hold back. Jimin seemed to appreciate this as you slipped further from control. He was so good with his mouth, making you see stars as your legs started to shudder. When he slid his finger inside you and fingered you again, your hands fisted in the sheets.
“Ji-jimin,” you gasped, writhing beneath him. “Jimin, I – oh.”
He began to move faster, adding a second finger as your insides clenched around him. Everything tightened, hovering at a breaking point while Jimin continued, relentless. His mouth on your clit, his fingers inside you – everything broke apart when you came, gasping his name.
Jimin didn’t move, kissing your sex as you slowly came down. He lapped at your sex, licking up your arousal before withdrawing his fingers. Once your breathing had steadied, Jimin returned to the sheets beside you.
“Good?” he breathed, draping an arm over your waist.
“Oh my god, yes,” you exhaled, burying your face in his chest.
He laughed, pulling you closer. Jimin started to pull away, which made you look up and frown.
“What are you doing?” you said.
He paused. “I’m looking for a tissue.”
“Why?”
“I… I’m kind of at a loss here.”
“No, I mean why now,” you said, baffled. “I can come again, Jimin. I want to come with you inside me.”
Jimin stared at you a moment.
“Unless…” Uncertain, you hesitated. “You don’t want to…?”
“Fuck,” Jimin muttered, sounding hoarse. “No – I want to. I really want to. Are you sure, though?” he said, reaching to open the side drawer of his bed.
You grinned when he pulled out a condom, ripping this open.
“I’m sure,” you murmured, moving closer.
Jimin rolled the condom onto himself, pausing before he went any further. Shifting his weight so he hovered over you, Jimin searched your gaze. Reaching lower, you casually stroked his cock and guided him to your center.
He didn’t enter yet, content to take his time. Instead, Jimin bent and kissed you, dragging a hand down your side. His fingers paused at your breast, tweaking your nipple until it stood fully erect. Moving to your waist, he curved under your ass and lifted your hips to his.
Arching upwards, you felt his cock brush your center. The touch made you pant, wanting him inside you and wanting it now. Rolling over his length, you marveled at the feel of him between your legs. Having him so close and not having him inside you was maddening.
“Jimin,” you whimpered.
“Yeah?” he murmured, continuing to thrust between your thighs.
“Please,” you begged him.
“Alright, baby,” he said and rolled you onto your back.
It was the first time he’d used the endearment, sending a wave of warmth through you as your legs parted. Reaching lower, Jimin positioned himself at your entrance. It took him a moment to work his way in; you were so wet, he needed a second try. With only his tip inside, you immediately clenched and buried your head in his shoulder.
Lightly, Jimin brushed a kiss to your hair. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, making you glance up. “I’ll make you feel good. I promise.”
Slowly, you nodded. “Okay.”
Laying slowly back down, you tried to relax while he worked his way deeper. With slow, shallow thrusts, Jimin finally bottomed out and you stared at him in amazement. His cock was thicker than you were used to and stuffed to the brim like this, you felt so full. Glancing down, you saw his hips nestled snugly to yours.
When you looked up, Jimin met your gaze. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled, hanging his head. “I just – I need a minute.”
“What’s wrong?” you blurted, immediately worried.
A smile passed over his lips. “Nothing’s wrong.” He looked up. “You’re just… fuck. I feel like a damn virgin. You’re so tight and wet, I’m losing my mind.”
Hearing him say this sent a shiver through you. Shifting your hips, you reveled in the sensation of him moving inside you.
Jimin groaned. “No,” he protested. “You can’t do that right now.”
“Do what?”
“Try and make me move,” he murmured. “I know you can’t see yourself, so you can’t see how hot you look. Tits out, pussy spread and dripping all over my cock.”
“Oh,” you breathed.
“Sounding like that.”
“Jimin. If you don’t –”
He suddenly thrust deeper, grinding his pelvis against your core and making you groan. Speechless, you stared as he slowly pulled out. Jimin teased you with his tip, moving a few inches back in before he thrust again.
“Oh,” you groaned, jolted upwards on the bed.
His gaze dropped to your chest. “Fuck,” Jimin said quietly, dropping down to an elbow.
He moved again in earnest, thrusting slowly in and pulling back out. It made your breath catch, needing more but loving the torture. It was torture to feel every inch of him and have Jimin continue to hold back. You knew he could go faster, deeper, but wanted to stay in control.
Dropping his head, Jimin slowly kissed your neck. His cock continued to move, fucking you slowly as your legs opened wider.
“Jimin,” you whimpered.
Your hips chased after his, hoping to coerce him deeper.
He smirked. “Yes, baby?”
“Please,” you said, arching against him. “I want more.”
“You want it harder?”
As he said this, Jimin increased his strength. Keeping the tempo the same, each thrust of his cock had your lips parting with pleasure.
“Yes,” you whimpered, barely hanging on.
“And faster? You want that, too?”
You nodded, slack-jawed as Jimin sped up the pace. His cock began to pound into you, hand fisting in sheets as he gave it to you hard. Arching underneath him, your hands dragged down his back as Jimin fully let go. With each thrust of his hips, his pelvis brushed your clit and yet, it still wasn’t enough.
“More?” he teased, continuing to fuck you.
“More,” you whimpered, sliding your hands up your breasts. Tweaking the nipples, you watched his gaze harden. “I want more, Jimin.”
He immediately moved, as though he’d been waiting for this. Grasping your ankles in one hand, he lifted them high overhead and pulled his cock out. You gasped when he did so, your hands falling to the side while you were put on display. The position pushed your pussy lips together, giving an incredible view of your dripping cunt.
Jimin plunged his cock back inside, nearly making you scream. It felt so deep this way – so deep and hard and deliciously wanton. Jimin fucked you from above, hips slamming into you and making your breasts bounce.
Jimin groaned, his hips never faltering. “Touch them,” he said, lowering your ankles to one shoulder. “Touch your tits for me, baby.”
You obeyed, hands sliding over your breasts to tease your nipples. This sent a shock of pleasure straight to your core and Jimin hammered your g-spot, making you see stars. Jaw slack, you could only lie there and take it while he made you come.
It was too much, the wave of pleasure threatening to overwhelm, but then Jimin leaned forward and you finally snapped. You felt him release into the condom as you fell apart, rope after rope of hot cum inside you.
Eventually, Jimin softened and fell onto his elbow. As he opened his eyes, he sought your gaze and you smiled. His cheeks were flushed, his hair dark and sweaty and you couldn’t help the deep surge of affection within you.
“I don’t know about you,” he murmured. “But that was pretty fucking incredible.”
“Same here,” you whispered. “I’d like to do it again sometime.”
“Three orgasms weren’t enough?”
“Were they enough for you?”
“No.” Jimin laughed. “I could watch you come all night. But we should probably get you cleaned up and all that.”
“Probably,” you agreed, although you made no effort to move.
Eventually Jimin sighed and gently pulled out. Tossing his condom in the trash, he showed you to the bathroom and let you do what you needed to do. When you returned, Jimin was on top of his bed. He’d put back on his boxers and held out his sweatshirt.
“I thought you might want this,” he said, uncertain.
Smiling, you took it and lowered it over your head. Climbing beside him on the bed, you rested your head on his shoulder and cuddled beside him. Listening to his breathing, you concentrated until yours started to match.
Outside, cheers erupted from the street. Scrambling upwards, you fought to look out Jimin’s side window. As you hurried to see what the commotion was about, Jimin groaned when you flashed him your bare ass, but followed suit.
Glancing outside, you realized it must have turned midnight. Fireworks went off over the skyline, people cheered below, and someone had lit a sparkler on the street. Voices drifted higher, wishing each other a happy new year as slowly, you turned around to face Jimin.
He smiled at you, his happiness clear when he pulled you to him. A dizzying rush of what-if’s and excitement went through you and somehow, you knew this would be only the beginning.
“Happy new year,” he murmured.
“Happy new year,” you whispered, tilting your face up to his.
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Author’s Note: Thank you so much for reading this series 😊 It’s been a whirlwind, so thank you for sticking with our main characters throughout the journey! I hope you enjoyed and are having a wonderful holiday season :) happy (almost) new year!
RAISE THE BARRE MASTERLIST 
© kpopfanfictrash, 2020. Do not copy or repost without permission.
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dreamwritesimagines · 3 years
Text
Burn The Witch 2 - First Impressions [Bucky Barnes x Reader]
A.N: Thank you so much for your wonderful support and feedback to the first chapter my loves ! ❤ Here’s chapter 2, I hope you like it as well and please let me know what you think! ❤ Thank you! ❤❤❤
Word Count: 2500
Warnings: Mentions of blood, sex, violence, death, manipulation, language.
Summary: First impressions can be wrong.
Chapter 1 
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Being a spy for years had taught you to be able to tell whether a mission would be dangerous or not before they even sent you there.
For example, the mission they had put you on three years ago where you had to poison the target in a very crowded ballroom while pretending to be an artifacts expert was a dangerous one.
Or five years ago when you had quite literally brought a dagger into a gun fight in a storage unit, that was also quite dangerous.
But something told you that going after Bucky Barnes would be the most dangerous mission you’d ever had so far, and you weren’t even going to be engaged in a fight.
Instead you were expected to make him fall in love with you, which-
To be honest, engaging in a fight would’ve been much easier.
“This is unacceptable.” Your best friend paced in the empty conference room while you nibbled on the chocolate, keeping your eyes on your phone. “You should’ve said no.”
“I can’t say no, it’s a mission.”
“No, it’s my father treating you like a—like a—“ she threw her hands up, “Honey trap!”
You shrugged your shoulders, scrolling down on the screen but then looked up when she snapped her fingers in front of your eyes.
“Y/N!”
“Chloe if I nail this mission, I’ll get the position I want. I could be a handler next year, do you know how big that is?”
“You need to stop pretending like you’re fine with this.”
“You’re sending me the files tonight right?” you asked, ignoring her huff of impatience and she sat down, crossing her arms.
“Yes,” she said, “Everything there is to know about Bucky Barnes is in there, lots of things you could use. I gathered it myself. His past, his interests back then, what he has been doing since he got here, his favorite porn, his favorite musicians—“
“I’m sorry, what was that last one?”
“His favorite musicians?” she played dumb, grinning and you shifted your weight.
“You wouldn’t do that background check on me, would you?”
Her grin widened as she wiggled her brows, “Just so you know, you’re such a cliché.”
“Jesus Christ.” You slipped a little in your seat, your cheeks burning, “I hate you so much.”
“No you don’t,” she sang and you tried to focus on the screen, but the door to the conference room opened, gathering your attention. Your jaw dropped as soon as you saw the figure stepping inside and you jumped on your feet as Chloe gasped.
“Keith?”
Keith was the third member of your small friend group. He was a field agent just like you were, and for years you, Chloe and Keith had always had each other’s backs, in or outside of missions.
Back at the academy you were inseparable and it had been months since you had last seen him.
“Figured I’d find you two here,” he said, “I just followed the scent of despair.”
“I thought you were still in Prague!” You rushed to hug him and he ruffled your hair before you batted his hand away.
“I was but I got called in at 5 in the morning. General’s orders.”
“It was about time my father did something right.” Chloe came to kiss his cheek, making him grin, “Gosh, it’s so good to have you back!”
“Good to be back, gorgeous,” he lifted her up in a hug before setting her down as she squealed, “I missed you.”
Your jaw dropped when you saw the file in his hand, “Hold on. Is that what I think it is?”
“It could be,” he told you, “That is, if you’ll have me in your mission.”
“The best news I got since I landed.” You pumped your fist in the air “Yes! Yes I do want you in the mission!”
“So then,” he said as he sat beside you and put his feet up on the table while you leaned back, “Is what I heard true?”
“Yes and you need to tell her she’s being ridiculous,” Chloe motioned at you and Keith pursed his lips.
“I just thought we put this whole honey trap thing behind us back in 1950s.”
“Exactly!”
“Guys come on, if Accords pass—screw that, even if they don’t pass, think about how we can use Barnes.”
Keith clicked his tongue, tilting his head.
“Will we use him more than we’re using you right now?” he asked and you rolled your eyes, grabbing the file in his hand.
“Your alias is Whistler this time?”
“Yep,” he nodded, “General says yours is Shrike?”
“Mm hm.”
“Considering what this Barnes mission entails, I’m surprised he didn’t call you Swallow.”
You kicked at his boot and he let out a laugh, holding his hands up.
“What? That was the terminology back in the day for agents seducing people for the mission, wasn’t it? Raven for guys, swallow for girls.”
“Hilarious,” you deadpanned and Chloe sat on the table, still pouting.
“You’re both fine with this then?”
“Chloe, the guy was around in World War 2,” you said patiently, “If I don’t want to sleep with him, I’ll just tell him I’m waiting for marriage, it’s probably not a foreign concept for him, old times and all. Happy?”
She arched a brow, “If you say so,” she said, “But you know there are examples of undercover agents falling for their targets, right? Especially in situations like these.”
Keith chuckled, “Yeah, that’d make a great story for your grandchildren.”
“Except that I wouldn’t get to have those grandchildren because I’d be killed.”
“Don’t say that!”
“Just let me know beforehand if the Winter Soldier decides to make an honest woman out of you,” Keith said and you stuck your tongue out at him.
“Look at you, making jokes.”
“I’m a funny guy, thank you very much,” he said, “So what are we doing tonight?”
“Killing some Hydra scum,” you said, “There’s this gallery opening, apparently evil guys love art nowadays. Who knew?”
“You need a spotter?”
“Sure thing.”
“After you guys are done killing that target, can we hang out?” Chloe asked, “We need to catch up.”
“Only if I get to pick the movie,” Keith made a face, “I don’t trust your taste after the last time.”
“10 Things I Hate About You is a classic!”
“Do you want to hear the one thing I hate about you, Chloe? Spoiler, it’s your taste in movies.”
“Play nice, kids,” you said, skimming the lines on the screen and Chloe huffed.
“Fine. And after that, we can work on the seduction mission.”
“You’re in on that as well?” Keith asked and Chloe nodded.
“Duh.”
“Look at us, Charlie’s Angels is back.” Keith said, “Wait, does that mean General is Charlie?”
You supressed a laugh and shook your head fondly, looking at Keith.
“I missed you, asshole.”
“Missed you too, trouble.”
                                                       ***
Working for the division you did had its advantages, and it never stopped to surprise you how you could always get the newest gadgets before going on missions. Chloe had installed certain features into your “sniper costume” as she put it, and one of them was a ring that would call the nearby agents of your team to your location, and the other one was a ski mask that was both bulletproof and could change your voice.
“Batman does it, why not you?” she had said before making you try it.
“Shrike, ma’am?” Keith’s voice echoed in your ear and you adjusted your earpiece before checking the harness around your waist, just in case you needed to jump off the building. Your team was already in position if you were in any way compromised, and you started setting your sniper rifle.
“Since when do you call me ma’am?” you asked Keith and he chuckled.
“Since they put you in charge of a team.”
“Don’t listen to him, guys,” you said to the rest of the team and took a look at the city lights, taking a deep breath.
Rooftops were always peaceful, even when you were holding a sniper rifle.
“ETA of the target?”
“Two minutes.” Keith said and you pressed your lips together, pointing the rifle at the entrance of the gallery, looking through the scope.
“So I think I found a movie for tonight,” Keith said as you shook your head slightly, trying to focus.
“Later.”
“James Bond?” he asked, “We can take a shot every time the movie gets something wrong about being a spy. We’ll probably be hammered by the end of the night.”
“One minute, Shrike.” One of the agents said and you exhaled through your mouth, your finger on the trigger.
“No seriously, don’t you guys like James Bond? I think it’s because of that movie I chose this line of work, but—“ Keith was cut off when you pulled the earpiece out of your ear to have a moment of silence so that you could concentrate when the target arrived, but as soon as you grabbed the rifle again, you heard the familiar sound of someone racking the slide of a gun, followed by a calm voice.
“Easy there,” he said, “Put the rifle down.”
You cursed at yourself in your head, then withdrew your hands from the rifle. Your earpiece was off, meaning that no one in your team could hear you, and you checked whether you could grab the gun from him, but he wasn’t standing close enough.
Professional.
You held up your hands, then slowly turned to see who was threatening you before your heart dropped to your stomach.
Damn it.
This was definitely not the way you were supposed to meet Bucky Barnes.
Thankfully you were wearing a ski mask, so your identity wouldn’t be compromised and the next time you met him, you could pretend.
And he would be none the wiser.
You pressed on the ring Chloe had given you to alert the others, keeping your eyes on the barrel of the gun.
“I thought I saw a glimpse of a scope.”
“Congratulations,” you deadpanned, trying to stall so that your team could get there, “You want a watch as a prize? A refrigerator?”
He looked almost surprised at your snarky comment and you shrugged your shoulders.
“Listen, it’s my target. So if you want to kill him, too bad. I was here first, early bird and all that, shoo.”
Even you could see his confusion that lasted for a second and a small smile pulled at your lips.
“Ah. You don’t know who my target is.”
“I know I’m not going to let you kill someone in a pretty crowded gallery.”
“Even if it’s some Hydra scum?” you asked and he pulled back.
“What?”
You stole a look at the entrance of the gallery over your shoulder as the limo pulled over.
“Mm hm. You really shouldn’t be stopping me Barnes. We got this, you can go and play the superhero with Wilson.”
“You know who I am.”
“Everyone knows who you are,” you stated, making him pause for a moment.
“I didn’t catch your name.”
You tut tutted, “Don’t be greedy.”
“Well, how do I know you’re not lying about your target if you can’t even give me your name?”
“Why would I lie about my target?”
“So that I would let you shoot him.”
“Aw, you’re cute,” you taunted him, tilting your head, “But I don’t recall asking for your permission.”
He stared at you for a couple of seconds.
“Who are you?” he asked and you grinned as you heard the footsteps coming closer.
“Until next time, soldier.” You said as the team burst through the door, guns blazing. He turned around to point his gun at the agents, immediately taking cover as you picked up the rifle again.
It was time to get back to work.
You looked through the scope, found the target and pulled the trigger, blood splattering over the walls and chaos erupted over the street instantly, people screaming and running everywhere. You looked over your shoulder to see your team managing to keep Barnes busy with the constant gunshots, then you checked the harness around your waist again and jumped over the roof to land on top of the car waiting for you in the street. The rope went up to the roof as you unbuckled it and got into the car, pulling the ski mask off your face.
“You weren’t compromised, right?” Keith asked and you shook your head.
“I’m not an amateur,” you said as he stepped on the gas, the car breezing through the road. 
“You don’t look so happy,” Keith said after taking a look at you and you pursed your lips together, deep in thought.
“He didn’t take me hostage.”
“Hm?”
“When the team burst through the door and I turned around to kill the target. He’s a super soldier, he could’ve grabbed me, use me as a leverage to get out of there. That’s what I’d do but he didn’t attack me or the team, he took cover.”
“So?”
“Keith, it’s the fucking Winter Soldier we’re talking about. He can kill a team of agents in seconds, but I bet he just got out of there. Without hurting anyone.”
“Maybe he’s just a good person.” Keith chuckled and you slipped a little in the seat, biting at your fingernails.
“I guess.”
“Would it be so bad?”
“It would make no difference,” you muttered, keeping your eyes on the city lights, “Good person or not, he’s my mission.”
“Clearly, but aren’t you going to feel just a little guilty if he ends up being a good guy?”
You scoffed a laugh and turned to him.
“I’m no use to anyone if I develop a guilty conscience,” you stated, “Much less to myself. You know that.”
A silence fell upon the car before he heaved a sigh.
“Listen, Chloe has a point as always,” he said, “These kind of missions are hard, okay? The longer you’re playing your part, the easier it will be to believe it. Feelings get involved, there are bunch of agents who ended up hesitating when it was time to bring their target in, so if you—“
“I won’t hesitate.”
“Y/N.”
“I won’t hesitate,” you repeated, “I swear. The minute this mission is over, I’ll bring him in. Orders are orders.”
Keith let out a whistle, “If you say so.”
You bit inside your cheek and leaned your head on the window, fixing your gaze outside.
“Considering the lack of alternatives,” you rasped out, “Yeah. Yeah I do say so.”  
Chapter 3 
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ivorydragoness44 · 2 years
Text
Murtagh Morzansson x Reader: Plenty of Time
Word Count: 710
Summary: Murtagh visits the Reader for a short while to see how their magic studies are coming along. (First cheek kiss)
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“This magic business would be far easier to practice if it were not for the energy bit,” you grumbled aloud.
Unfortunately, I cannot tell whether or not you were talking to yourself or me, your dragon inquired, clawing absentmindedly at the grass outside.
“A little of both, I suppose,” you chuckled to yourself.
There was a book and a few scrolls laid out on the table in front of you. You had not bothered timing how long you had been studying and memorizing various words and spells in the Ancient Language. It was to be an all-day activity anyhow. The practice was meticulous and repetitive, and had soon lost it’s charm and intrigue hours prior.
You were about to review the words alphabetically again when a knock came upon the front door.
Standing, you went over to see who it could be. Also worth noting that you were on the verge of welcoming any of your friends indoors, considering your dwindling attention span for your studies.
Opening the door, you were welcomed by the sight of the ever handsome, Murtagh.
You sighed, “Thank goodness.”
His brows furrowed, “Were you expecting someone else?”
“No,” you gave a light laugh, “if anyone were to be on the other side of this door, I’m glad that it was you.”
His features softened at your words.
“Come in,” you smiled, stepping aside.
“Thank you. I…thought I’d see how you’re progressing with learning the Ancient Language.”
“Slow and steady. A stronger emphasis on slow, the more time I spend on it.”
Leading him over to the seating area, you could not help but to notice that his belt was missing something rather important. You were sure that he took his sword everywhere. To see him without it, was peculiar.
“It’s important to know it…For your own survival.”
“I know, it’s just…doing the same task repetitively is exhausting my mind today.” Plopping yourself down on the couch, you dropped your head back on the cushion as Murtagh sat beside you. “There’s only so much that I can remember at a time, Murtagh.”
Murtagh hesitantly placed a hand over your own. “It’s alright. There is really no need to rush anyhow. You have plenty of time.”
It took you a moment to understand his meaning. Your facial expression giving it away when you did. “Oh, right. Dragon rider longevity. It’s only too bad that you cannot teach me a few things.”
“Because a teacher and student relationship is not what we have,” he said carefully, his thumb rubbing small circles over your skin.
“Yes, but…perhaps as a concerned and fellow dragon rider?”
Murtagh smiled at your words, “Trying to bend the rules?”
“If only a little,” you smirked.
He gave a quiet sigh in thought. “Would you mind if I think it over first before coming to conclusion?”
“Not at all. I’m all too glad to know that you may be considering it.”
“Well…I don’t want to keep you from your studies for too long.”
“I wish you would,” you mumbled.
Murtagh gave your hand a light squeeze before letting go to stand.
You followed after him. Stopping to stretch first before walking him to the door.
At the door, there was a pause. Murtagh went to say something, but closed his mouth.
You could not read him clearly; his face shielding whatever he was truly thinking and feeling at the moment. It was, however, clear to you that he had something on his mind. He always did. So, you waited patiently for him to find the words.
Looking at him with a certain curiosity. How cute you found the way he was looking at you with such adoration. His eyes were the only clue to his emotions. When he allowed it. There was a lightness in those grey pools of his.
Then, Murtagh leaned closer to you. Not quickly or overly cautious, but enough time that you could have stopped him. But you did not. He craned his head over to the side of yours and pressed a kiss to your cheek, leaving a sense of tingling warmth in its wake.
Your smile eased his uncertainty when his lips left your skin.
“I’ll…see you for dinner?”
“Yes, you will.”
~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~ ~~~~
Thank you for reading!
If you like my writing, and would like to support me, feel free to check out my ko-fi.
38 notes · View notes
cinna-stars · 3 years
Text
Worth Waiting For
Uhh, okay, this is my first ever fanfic! I might continue it based on the reception, but it was a few thoughts I had in my head that I wanted down on paper. 
18+! Some sexual themes and content throughout, however for those experienced smut readers, this is some mild sauce, not very much spice.
I have to credit @cyancherub for making me think about Kiri smelling like cinnamon, the thought hasn’t left my brain.
Kirishima x Fem!reader 
A cool breeze whispers through the slightly ajar window of your dorm room. The sun set a little while ago; studying always seems to eat up most of your free time, so this wasn’t exactly a surprise. You lean back in your desk chair, arms up, and stretch your muscles into a big yawn. The sudden contracting muscles have your stomach gurgling. It’s definitely time to take a break, so you close your textbook and stand up from your desk. I wonder if there’s any of those expensive sounding potato chips that Momo bought back from her trip abroad left over? The thought makes you salivate as you begin towards your door. You glance to the mirror in the corner and look at your own reflection: hair pulled into a loose, messy bun, torso swallowed up by an old band shirt Denki gave you (after a conversation initiated by Mineta on what you liked to wear to bed) and bare legs sticking out from the hem. Shouldn’t be a problem, as long as Iida isn’t feeling like a stick in the mud this evening. You open your door and begin creeping your way to the kitchen, hoping to keep noise levels to a minimum as to not disturb anyone who might be sleeping already.
Your ears perk up when you hear conversation coming from the communal area.
“On a scale from 1-10, with ten being the most boring, you have exceeded my expectations and we’ve hit an 11.”
“Shut up dude, it’s an absolute cinematic masterpiece. This is why you don’t have the remote- we’d be watching Care Bears or some shit.”
You approach the seating area to see Bakugou, Kirishima, Sero and Denki. The latter two arguing over what to watch. Bakugou looks like he’s about to blow a fuse, so Kirishima chimes in,
“Hahah, okay guys, why don’t we just watch a horror movie, like Scream or something? It’s an easy watch.”
“Sounds like a good idea as long as Kaminari doesn’t shit himself.” Sero tries to start again, but this is perfect timing for you to interject.
“Sero, I’m sorry, last time I checked, you’re the one who had to ‘leave suddenly’ when we watched Halloween.” A smirk appears on your face from ear to ear as all four boys turn their head your direction. You notice an empty spot next to Kiri and take the opportunity to sit, careful not to flash anyone.
“Hey Y/N don’t be startin’ on me. I have plenty of stories about you that we could share you know? What about the Jaegerbomb incident?” Sero matched your grin, and you feign shock by slapping your hand to your heart.
“You’re breaking my heart, Hanta. Are you the only ones up?”
“Yeah Iida sort of ‘encouraged’ everyone to go to bed early because of the test tomorrow, but” Denki motions in Bakugou’s direction “the angry Pomeranian barked and he gave up with us.” Bakugou snaps his head up from his phone to stare Denki down, but realizing he’s just proving his point, sighs and goes back to scrolling on his phone.
“You okay Baku-babe?” he grunts and flips you off, but you could see the corner of his lip turn up in a weak smile at the affectionate nickname. You knew he meant well, especially after the time you had spent together over the last summer with the guys; he just had a defensive temperament.
“You wanna join us, y/n?” Kiri propositions with a wide grin. His hair was still styled into sharp points from classes today, contrasting with his relaxed clothing choice of a t-shirt, shorts and crocs. He’d also made the addition of a white bandana around his forehead. As usual, he was looking incredible.
After the time spent together as a group over the break, it was great to get to know everyone better. As Sero’s oldest friend, it was always easier to stick by him, which had ended up in your favour by meeting these clowns. You’d slowly got closer to the other three boys too, but there was something about Kirishima you couldn’t shake.
The way you felt when you were left together alone in the same room at a party, or when the other guys ended up flaking so you spent the night together at his place, there was always a feeling of excitement, in more ways than one.
You’ve never been very good at flirting and you just seem to come across as an anxious mess, but Kiri was pretty much just as bad. Meaning neither of you ever made a move. Just awkward giggles and eye contact that lasted just a little bit too long for friends.
“I actually came to steal some of Momo’s fancy chips but yeah, let me get a snack and I’ll be ready. You guys want anything?” You get up off the couch and start your way to the kitchen.
“BEER. BEER. BEER.” Denki chants, making you giggle.
“Oh I’ll come and help you carry them!” Kiri jumps up to follow behind you. You can hear Sero make a ‘wha-PISH’ whipping sound which makes Denki burst out with laughter. In their defense, it was painfully obvious you were both pining for each other.
The kitchen isn’t far but it is out of earshot of the sitting area. You open the cupboard in the corner to find Momo’s chip bag, left sat there completely empty. “Oh come ON” you sigh, picking up the bag and placing it in the trash.
“No chips left? Don’t worry I got you covered.” Kiri stretches to the gap between the top of the cupboard and the ceiling, feeling about with his hand. Your eyes fixate on the skin that is now showing just above the waistband of his shorts. You slowly move your view up the side of his torso, his shirt draping over his body in all the right places, and then to his face, one eye closed and tongue sticking out in concentration. He totally caught you checking him out and now you’re both stood there blushing like idiots. He finally located the bag he was looking for and brings his hands back down, showing off the slightly dusty bag of unopened chips.
“These are your favourites, right?” You stand in bewilderment looking at the bag and nod. “There are many bonuses to being one of the tallest in this dorm” he grins. He even remembered your favourite chips? You can’t help but smile back.
“Thank you so much. Oh let me get the beers!” you walk over to the fridge and open it up, bending over to search for the well hidden cans. You know your ass is on show, and you’re doing everything you can to make it the best view. Arching your back slightly, barely moving your hips from side to side, putting on a full show without being too obvious. “Ah I found them!” You gather them into your arms, the cold metal against your skin sending shivers up your spine and making your nipples protrude from the thin material of your shirt. You stand back up and close the fridge, turning around to a very red in the face Kirishima. You send a sweet smile his way.
“Do you mind taking a couple they’re coldddd” you whine. He composes himself and grabs the first can he can see looking ready to fall. He then proceeds to take another, slowly exposing more of your chest and your hardened nipples. You notice his eyes dart to them and then back on the beers. Are you two really going to carry on like this? Acting like the sexual tension couldn’t be cut with a knife? His wandering eyes now have you blushing and you’re quick to fill the hanging silence. “Should we really be drinking when we have a test tomorrow? I’m no NARC but you know what Denki can get like. He’ll wake up the whole house.”
“It’ll be fine. The only ones that know where the rest of the stash is are you and me. As long as you can keep a secret, we’re Gucci” he winks.
“Did you… really just use the term ‘Gucci’? like completely unironically?” You laugh, nudging his side.
“Shut upppp y/n. Come on let’s get back to them before Bakugo kills Dumb and Dumber.”
 “Hoes and bros we come bearing beverages!” You walk in and pass out the three beers you held to the boys, Kiri slowly following with the chips and the last two drinks.
“Wait, who are the hoes?..... oh.” Kaminari has a moment of self-realization and stares at the beer in his hand.
“Denki don’t listen to her, she is the last one to be calling anyone a hoe” Sero hits you with another of what will be many insults of the night.
“Uhhhh says the guys who has a body count tally on his wall. If you ever get with Mina you’re going to need to take a trip to Home Depot to paint over those you know?” You counter.
“Can we watch the damn film already?! Could’ve watched half the fucking thing by now.” Bakugou finally lets off some of the pent up steam. Both you and Denki lift your arms up to your forehead in a salute. “Yes sir!”
Grabbing a blanket, you and Kiri get back into your original seats next to each other on the sofa furthest away from the TV. Sero is on the chair to Kiri’s right, sprawled over it in the most boyish way possible, legs stretched wide and arms hanging over the back. Denki and Bakugo share the sofa to your left, Bakugou reserved to the spot at the very end, finally turning his phone off, while Denki almost mimics Sero’s positioning, but one hand is wrapped around his beer chugging it a bit too fast. Sero presses play as you sit back into the sofa. Kiri’s arm is already draped over the back of the headrest, and it’s only a matter of time until his arm drapes around your shoulder and you lean into him.
You’re about ten minutes into the movie when he starts to move his fingers in little circles on your upper arm. If anyone saw you right now, they’d assume you two were together. The months you’ve both spent flirting and teasing, the light touches and the lingering cuddles. This is becoming unbearable for you, its overwhelming. How haven’t you kissed yet? You weren’t really a ‘hoe’ as Sero said, but you certainly weren’t inexperienced and have never had this trouble before, so what was stopping you now? If things continued like this, you were going to explode.
You look up at Kiri, admiring the contours of his face against the light of the TV. The way his eyebrows slightly furrow, and the way he’s chewing his bottom lip between his teeth in concentration. You inhale the mild aroma of cinnamon, which is a scent that follows him around everywhere. You’re certain he’s aware you are staring, by the light blush reforming on his cheeks, but he allows you to for just a little longer. Right up until Denki yelps aloud from a minor jump scare in the film, causing you to jolt yourself and grab onto Kiri’s shirt.
“Don’t tell me you’re scared?” he asks, voice low and husky. “Don’t worry, I got you.” He lifts his free arm and tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
“I-I wasn’t scared. Denki made me jump” you pout.
“Aww, even worse haha” he chuckles, the vibrations flow through your body, straight to your core, making you instantly wet. If he ever really knew the affect he had, you might just die from embarrassment. You release his shirt and return your head to his shoulder; however, his hand has maneuvered itself away from your upper arm and is now placed on your hip. The large amount of warmth is slowly followed by a very light squeeze of reassurance, and you’ve never been more aware that you aren’t wearing any shorts.
His breathing has now quickened, and his hand feels like it might even be shaking a little bit. He was so nervous, which makes him even more endearing. A wave of adrenaline rushed through you as you lift your hand to rest atop of his, to give him the assurance that it is absolutely okay to have his hand there.
About three quarters of the way into the film, all drinks have been consumed, chips have been eaten, Sero pauses and gets up for a pee break. “Couldn’t your bladder have waited? There isn’t that much longer left Se-bro” Kiri teases
“Ei, I don’t think I know anyone who could wait as long as you have” he leans down and darts his eyes between the two of you. You glare with intent to BURN. You thought too long for a comeback and unfortunately, he’s already happily waltzing off to the bathroom.
Kiri turns to you with a smile and lowers his voice. “Did nobody tell tape face that anything worth having is worth waiting for?” and you swear in that moment an entire flutter of butterflies were trying to escape you. That’s the most direct he’s ever been and it’s not something easy to ignore.
“I know you both have hidden the beer and I take personal offense.” Denki bellows. “I bet it’s on top of the cupboard where Kiri keeps all the good stuff” and he gets up and skips off to the kitchen, fully convinced he’s going to find what he’s looking for.
“I’m going to bed. Gotta be up early and you extras are pissing me off.” Bakugou gets up and stretches. “Love you, Bakubro! Mwah!” both you and Kiri heckle him with air kisses and you are met with yet another middle finger as he strolls off to his dorm room, that small smirk still present.
There’s that feeling coming back again. The way you feel whenever you’re alone with Kirishima. But this is the most compromised you’ve been: you’re basically half naked, he’s got his hand on your hip and he just dropped an absolute bomb of a line thanks to Sero. You can’t help yourself and before you truly think it through,
“Ei, I think I’m done waiting.” You lift your head off his shoulder, faces only a few inches apart. You can feel both your heart rates quicken in sync and your bodies getting hotter. He raises his hand and takes your chin in his hand, urging your lips forward onto his. The anticipated contact sends electricity through your body and the kiss deepens quickly, his tongue licks your lower lip asking for entrance and you accept immediately, releasing a soft moan from the motion.
You twist your body round so that you’re straddling his thigh, his wandering hand had slipped under the fabric of your shirt in the same place, playing with the fabric of your underwear. Your hands find their way to the back of his head, pushing him further into your mouth. You both are getting sloppy as lust takes over and you find your hips involuntarily grinding on his thigh. He breaks away from the kiss, pulling at your lower lip and working his way down your jaw to your neck, nipping and sucking lightly, causing louder moans to escape you.
“So- fucking long- I’ve waited- to touch you like this” he groans out between kisses and bites, sure to leave a mark. “Sound so pretty”
“Ah- me too, I- fuck” the stimulation from his voice and touch is almost overwhelming, but clarity sets in quicker than you’d like it too. “Sero will- ah- be back any second” and you release your grip on his hair. He’s really trying to pout at you, but he can’t help let his goofy smile beam through. You stare at each other for a few seconds, both absolutely beaming with happiness. He lets out an almighty sigh,
“Uggggh, you’re right. Hey, what are you doing after this?” he asks as you settle back down next to him, making you chuckle.
“Well I was planning on going back to my dorm and sleeping. Unless you have a better offer?” you beam.
“Well…” his grin gets wider, “you know there’s a sequel to Scream, yknow? Think you might wanna… what’s it called..”
“Scream 2.”
“I can make you scream, too. Sure”  and you erupt into laughter together, from his disgustingly awful pun.
Sero approaches from the corridor “Well you two sure can clear a room.”
“I’d blame it on Kiri’s terrible puns, but Bakubabe went to bed and Electabuzz is currently trying to find the rest of the beer but- oh there you are” Denki walks in, with a pout on his face, and flops back on the couch in disappointment.
“Denks, how about we throw a little party tomorrow after the test. We’ll let you in on where the secret stash is, too.” You offer, his expression immediately switching to that of delight.
Even though there was only a half hour left of the movie, it felt like hours until the end credits started rolling. Denki had managed to fall asleep and was snoring at full velocity, and the only person left paying full attention was Sero, as you couldn’t stop your brain from wandering from anticipation.
He shut the TV off and you tasked yourself with waking up Denki while Kiri cleaned up the empty beer bottles.
“Kami, come on sweetie, you need to go to bed.” You nudge him slightly causing him to stir. Sero walks over, and gives him a hard slap on the ass
‘WAKE UP ASSHOLE! Iida will kill you if you sleep on the couch”
“…I- sleep- your mom-..” he sits up and rubs his eyes
“Don’t be so rough Sero, he’s so sleepy look at hiiiimm” You say, admiring how cute he looked in such tired state. Kaminari finally gets up and all four of you head to the lift… shit.
You are Denki are on the 3rd floor, Kiri is on the 4th and Sero is on the 5th… how are you going to get to Kiri’s room without being suspicious?
A/N: Thank you if you read this in full! Please let me know what you think and if you’d be wanting to read the next part (which would include a lot more spice!)
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mycrofts-gunbrella · 3 years
Text
Caring is the Greatest Advantage- Mycroft Holmes x Reader (Part Five)
Word Count- 3921
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Morning had come around a lot quicker than you had hoped it would, the sunlight peeking through the curtains and birds singing outside making drifting back off an impossible task. Though you felt well rested, you simply just didn't want to move anywhere any time soon. Last night had begun with Mycroft shyly placing his hand on your hip as your back pressed close to his chest, but this morning had ended with Mycroft on his back and you with your head resting between his chest and shoulder, hand crossing over with fingers hooked over the pyjama's pocket. You'd never expected to be the type to wake up earlier than Mycroft Holmes, particularly not two days on the bounce, but you wouldn't complain. He looked so peaceful as he slept, the sunlight turning his auburn hair far more ginger, his freckles on his nose matching. You slowly reached one arm backwards, blindly feeling around for your phone on the bedside table and reading through your messages. You grinned seeing a text from Greg and had to fight the small laugh that threatened to escape you.
'Hey, just thought I'd check in on you both and see how you're getting on. I hate to feel pushy but we do really need to start that paperwork, today ideally. Figured I'd pop round later if it's alright- I need a sodding nap first though. Spent the majority of last night receiving phone calls about mysterious activity around St James', load of dodgy cars sending people away, loads of papers.. don't suppose you saw any of that down your way did you, makes life easier?"
Your fingers typed a response- 'Uhh..guilty as charged.. Myc was in jeans and a Who top, daren't be seen by the public..I'll get him to fix it when he's up x'- a grin playing on your face. Yeah okay you felt a little bad, but Greg had dealt with worse. After pressing send, you scrolled further through your notifications, spotting one from John. Nothing major, just checking in and inviting you both over for late lunch, mentioning briefly how it'll do Sherlock some good seeing his brother, even if he doesn't believe it himself- evidently also receiving a message from Greg as he also explained how it would make Lestrade have to do one less visit for paperwork if you popped over a little earlier. Before you could type an answer, you felt Mycroft shift beneath you, stretching out the arm that wasn't trapped beneath your body.
"Morning Sleeping Beauty." You teased, turning your head and placing a small kiss on the Holmes' chin. Mycroft blinked, rubbing his eyes and offering you a 'good morning' in response as he eyed up you typing on your phone.
"Needed to be whisked away to catch a criminal mastermind already?" He asked, sitting up a little as you moved to give him a little more space, his arm still loosely tucked behind your back, though his torso now free.
"Your deductions in the morning are lacking.. though close. Mastermind, but not criminal. John and Sherlock have invited us to late lunch, Greg's popping over to start the first part of paperwork handling, only the basic stuff this time round, so figured it would make it easier on him only having to go to one home before we left." Mycroft breathed deeply, fingers raising to pinch the bridge of his nose.
"I think I'd have rathered the criminal." He spoke, already mentally planning the afternoon, the conversations he would likely have, the way Sherlock would behave. What if he still hadn't forgiven him? It was surprising enough that you had let him off so easily, but Sherlock was different. Sherlock was a Holmes, and someone of whom already had feudal tendencies with Mycroft, it was bound to end terribly. As though you had read his mind, you moved your hand to take his from his face as you noticed his fingertips whitening as he pinched harder.
"Hey, it'll be fine. He doesn't blame you, he's been far too silent for that to be the case. From the way John sounded, it actually seemed more like he was worried about you, though you know he'd never admit that." Mycroft hummed in response, not being able to find the right words to say before reaching over and grabbing his own mobile. "World ending yet?"
"Not yet. Though with any luck, quarrels could happen before lunch." He mused, one side of his mouth raising slightly in a playful smirk.
"Mycroft you can't wish for conflicts amongst empires to get out of a meal with your brother."
"Can't I?" He raised a brow.
"Anthea wouldn't allow it anyway. We're on strict instruction to not go into work for the next couple of weeks, nations be damned. Lunch sounds far more appealing too." You slid yourself out of bed and grabbed one of the bags from Anthea that you brought upstairs last night, taking a handful of clothing items and tucking them under your arm.
"But it isn't lunch, is it? It's LATE Lunch, settled approximately around 3pm, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. It's impractical by any means; you starve yourself at real lunch so you do not ruin your appetite, and then by dinner time you're hungry once again. And if you eat at both of those times as well as the late lunch, your feeding schedules become on par with a bloody Hobbit." You rolled your eyes and headed to the bathroom. "Though you may be more accustomed to such choices given the height similarity between yourself and Mr Brandybuck."
"Cheeky sod, not all of us have glorious Holmesian legs. I'm sure you'll survive a few hours.. Oh, you also owe Greg an apology." You chuckled, opening the message back up and tossing your phone in the general direction of Mycroft's lap before going to get dressed. After reading the message, you heard Mycroft let out a laugh from the other room, the rare kind that you knew made the sides of his eyes crease and his head tip back slightly in amusement; you were sorry you missed it.
Leaving the bathroom, you couldn't help but notice the silk pyjama clad man standing mindlessly in front of his open wardrobe, glancing over each individual item of clothing. Wandering behind him, you moved up on your tiptoes and peered over his shoulder at the rows of suits. You were still dressed relatively comfortably in a pair of skinny jeans and a t-shirt, which you felt was appropriate for the later meal that would likely be somewhere like Angelo's- but you equally knew that Mycroft's idea of 'comfort' lay within his three pieces, pocket squares and oxfords.
"Don't panic, I'm not going to begrudge you of your precious suits today. You deserve it after actually going through with my wardrobe choice for you.. I didn't actually expect you to do it." You laughed, squeezing his shoulder fondly. "We slept in late again, there's barely any morning left." You commented, glancing over at the clock that read 10:53am. "Can I tempt you in Elevenses, Mr Baggins?" You grinned, your Lord of the Rings reference not being missed by Mycroft. He cast you a playful glare, fighting the urge to childishly poke his two fingers up at you. "What? Not judging my bedside manner this time?"
"It is useless to meet revenge with revenge; it solves nothing." He quoted Frodo without hesitation, bastard probably already planned that you'd quip back with something smart and already armed himself with Shire related comebacks. You, in contrast to Mycroft, did have the tendencies to become childish and did opt for the two fingered response, an adoring smile unnaturally paired.
Not many people got to know of Mycroft's little nerdy side, and you took pride in being one of the few that did, though you took more pride in him for being able to easily reel off the quotes. Though he had told you before that The Lord of the Rings trilogy had been his favourite of everything you made him watch, then when he read the books? You wouldn't hear from him for hours at a time while he binge read through them for the tenth time round, and of course you had noticed the varying editions of the three books on his bookshelf in his personal office, rather than lining the shelves in his small library room. If anything, it just made him more endearing.
Though it was nothing compared with his love of Doctor Who. Bless his heart, you had taken him to watch David Tennant's Richard II a few years ago for his birthday and he was insistent on waiting behind after the performance to catch David leaving and got him to sign his special edition box set of his DW seasons. He even had a photo taken with him, his expression being easily comparable to the likes of a child who just got a puppy for Christmas- and, much to his dismay, the photograph had had a prime place on your desk at NSY since the event.
You made your way downstairs, calling out something about making omelettes and leaving Mycroft alone to get ready. His fingers skimmed across the expensive fabrics, tugging out an olive green suit and red tie and pocket square to match. The smell of the food you were preparing began to fill his nose, making his stomach growl as he rushed to the bathroom to get dressed. After removing his pyjama top, Mycroft caught a glance of himself in the mirror, prodding at the pudge of his stomach that settled just over his pyjama bottoms, before sucking in flat and looking again. Maybe he should forego the omelette and just wait until later.. another growl.. okay maybe just a little, just so he didn't raise suspicion. He sighed, stomach relaxing back to its natural state before finishing his morning routine, tugging his trousers up a little higher than usual to tuck away the offending belly fat.
Mycroft had always suffered with his weight, he knew that. He also knew of his past, how he would skip meals, or spend hours upon hours on his treadmill, or the time he was under Doctor Chinnery for just shy of three years following his habits of completing his meals with his fingers down the back of his throat over the toilet just after his job promotions exceeded and he found himself in much higher rankings- public appearance being far more important than any personal preference. Though his eating disorder had improved, the years of therapy didn't miraculously improve his self-confidence. It was one of the many reasons he preferred inviting others for dinners, or at the very least having his days to himself when he knew he would be going out later in the evening. Spontaneous meals out like the one he would be attending in a few hours, or having somebody at home with him while he waited for said meals threw him off balance completely- his usual routine of fasting beforehand as to not appear rude or raise suspicions when he ate in public being disturbed significantly. You knew of his past, deduced it, actually, and had been nothing but supportive, trying your best to convince him for years that he was perfectly healthy and encouraging him to eat better, to actually consume meals. He was thankful, of course he was, but it didn't help his insecurities around you, no matter how welcoming you had been or however many compliments you gave him. His body was covered in stretch marks and areas of loose skin from his weight loss over the years, his chest hair, though scarce, was a coppery ginger and his body was covered in so many freckles he looked like an explosion at a dot to dot factory. It led him to remember the other reason why he had never previously attempted to pursue a relationship with you; if he was disgusted and horrified at the appearance of his nude body then what on earth would you think when that time eventually came around? He daren't even try to imagine your face. You'd worked with Sherlock long enough to have seen him wander around naked and Mycroft had to admit that his brother at least had a body worth parading about in the nude, then there was Gregory who, despite not having an exactly chiseled body, still had the rugged good looks and toned chest- a physique that clearly represented the physical aspects of his occupation- there was no doubt you'd compare him to them and he would come up short every time.
"Myc? You gonna be long? Yours is going to be freezing!" Your voice had knocked him out of his thoughts and he quickly shrugged on the rest of his clothes, straightening his tie in the mirror and plastering on a small smile as he headed downstairs and into the kitchen.
"Apologies.. the cufflinks failed in succession to cooperate at first." You had eyed him suspiciously, knowing that Mycroft had worn enough suits in his lifetime that he could probably find a way to put one on to completion in 5 minutes in the dark with oven mitts on.
"I know I've been so against the suits, but I have to admit that you look incredible.. I think that one's my new favourite." You commented casually, placing a quick kiss to his temple as he sat at the table. "That colour is lovely." He quirked a brow.
"New favourite? You've had old ones?"
"Obviously." Imitating Sherlock. "Charcoal pinstripe with that light blue shirt- brings your eyes out wonderfully... and your bum." You winked, positively enjoying the pink that dusted the man's cheeks, and the way he would open his mouth to speak and then close it before any words came out. In his defence, he was really not used to receiving such compliments. And in your defence, you weren't particularly used to giving them, not like that anyway. You'd blame Greg, he was a terrible influence and an incredible flirt- using his charm to at the very least try and make you laugh when you had shitty days.
You lay his plate in front of him, a coffee to its side, before beginning to tuck into your own meal. You had learned early on that if you didn't wait until Mycroft was able to eat then he likely wouldn't eat at all. While drinking his coffee fairly happily, you hadn't missed that the vast majority of Mycroft's breakfast was still on the plate, cut in smaller pieces and rearranged to appear as though he had eaten more than he truly had. Frowning, you didn't press- knowing better than to point out his behaviour and just being thankful he had eaten anything at all (about a third of the omelette and half a slice of toast if your judgements were correct) but had elected to keep an eye on him. You finished your own food in silence before crossing the cutlery over on your plate and beginning to speak.
"I figured if we left now we could have a bit of time for you to go through the first set of paperwork, Greg should be getting there in the next 10 minutes or so, and then by the time we finish and have a cup of tea it'll be time to go out." You suggested, taking Mycroft's plate to clear away after he had sent a nod to show he was finished. He made a small groan at the need to go at all, but soon acquiesced, sent a text for a car and stood to go to the front door. Tugging on a hoodie, you opened the door and took a step back, the wind shooting in your face and making you scowl. Mycroft made an amused sound and offered you the scarf of his that you had worn last night. Rather than taking the garment, you stood and waited for him to wrap it the same expert way that he had the night before. "I also text Greg to run by my flat and grab my coat so I'll be able to stop stealing your expensive scarves soon.. though this one feels so lovely I may text him again to leave it on the tube." You laughed, stepping back outside once again and walking with Mycroft to the end of the road where a car was waiting. Mycroft had wanted to respond, to make a comment about how he didn't mind letting you wear his things, how he actually quite liked it. But he stayed silent, offering a small smile instead and a soft hand at the small of your back. Mycroft opened the door for you, climbing in after and settling against the plush seats of the lavish car.
As the car began to move you tensed a little, a thought popping into your head.
"Myc.. does Sherlock know yet? About us? I might have hinted at it a little when I spoke to Lestrade earlier but I didn't press.. I just.. I didn't know if you were telling people." You asked awkwardly. Christ it made it sound like you were in some forbidden relationship. Mycroft's jaw clenched a little.
"I wasn't aware it was secret knowledge, if that's what you are asking Y/N. In response to your question, no. I haven't spoken to Sherlock at all since.." He trailed. "And I am not the sort of man to walk into a room and actively announce that kind of thing. But you should know that he will likely deduce it the moment we walk through the door being as you are wearing my clothing, your hair smells like my shampoo and your skin still has traces of the scent of my soap. So if you didn't want anybody to know, then I strongly suggest we rearrange our plans for this afternoon." Who was he kidding? Of course you didn't want people to know that you were actually together now- you would look ridiculous being such a pretty young woman with a man like Mycroft in tow. You opened your mouth to speak but he cut you off. "If you are going to say you could argue the soaps then it would simply be futile, he knows I have your regular brand at your disposal; he'd know you used mine in the form of... sentiment." The last word felt wrong on his tongue now, knowing you had hoped to keep your.. relationship.. behind closed doors. Mycroft Holmes was a very private man, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want knowledge of your relationship to be at least semi-public, having felt a little giddy when you'd chosen to cross that line with him.
"What? No, I wasn't going to talk about the sodding shampoo." You grinned, reaching a hand over to place on his knee. "Jesus Myc, I asked because I didn't know if YOU were comfortable with people knowing. I'm pretty sure everyone inside that flat knew I fancied you the last few years, I'd proudly walk in and show that my pining eventually paid off. I just know you have appearances to keep up and I didn't want to ruin that, or embarrass you in front of Sherlock." For what seemed like the millionth time in the last few days, your words surprised Mycroft. He felt his jaw loosen and he took a breath, moving only to briefly place his hand over yours for a small squeeze and moving back again. You didn't expect him to say much, he was Mycroft Holmes, not Romeo Montague, but the small smile you sent back his way let him know that you understood his thoughts. The drive to Baker Street was only 10 or so minutes from Mycroft's home so you soon arrived in no time at all, the slick black car smoothly pulling up outside number 221.
"I can only hope my dear brother deduces our relationship correctly and doesn't make a vast attempt to embarrass me in front of his peers.. again." Mycroft knocked on the door, his words casting you back to a Christmas you had all shared a couple years ago.
It was a small gathering, consisting of the pair of you, the Baker Street boys, Greg and Mrs Hudson, and a few weeks beforehand, after multiple arguments of whether or not presents should be shared, Mrs Hudson had come up with the wonderful (terrible) idea of secret Santa which, incase you wasn't aware, isn't a fun game when played with two Holmes' that knew everybody's present and Secret Santa before the packages were opened. You had pulled Mrs Hudson and couldn't have been more thrilled, neither could she when she opened her new tea set- a simple floral design decorated its sides, but she was thankful no matter the pattern, the last teapot having been found at the hands of Sherlock housing human eyes. Conveniently enough, Mycroft had pulled your name and elected to subtly buy you a personalised travel mug for work. After you had opened it, Sherlock had scoffed, muttering something along the lines of "Mycroft isn't that shit at buying presents. He bought you a necklace at first but felt too embarrassed to give it to you in such a public setting and panic bought that cup." Continuing on about how Mycroft had put a lot of thought into your original gift and how it was unusual and how it "obviously" meant he favoured you and was attracted to you. Mycroft had left shortly after that, not making eye contact with any of the silent people in the room and climbed into the back of his car, but you had followed suit and clambered in after him- easing the tension by ignoring Sherlock's allegations and giving him the envelope that you had in your pocket. You had told him you had bought him something special anyway, even though he wasn't who you were supposed to buy for, because you cared for and appreciated him- he had opened the envelope slowly and his eyes widened, that rare smile appearing on his face when he was presented with the Richard II tickets. After your exchange Mycroft had given you the necklace anyway, spouting derogatives about his brother's deductions as he did so. It was a small silver chain necklace with a sparkling silver pendant that, upon closer inspection, you had noticed was a police badge.
You smiled fondly at the memory and instinctively placed your hand above your sternum, feeling the small piece of metal beneath your clothing that you hadn't taken off in two years. You turned to face the man beside you a little more, placing a hand on his shoulder and reaching up on your tiptoes to place a lingering kiss on his lips, moving back only when you heard the latch unlock in front of you, and noticing the ever so slight pink tinge to Mycroft's bottom lip from the lip balm you had put on earlier. "That should make it easier to get it right." You commented, fighting the small grin from your face as you noticed Mycroft standing in the same way, lips parted slightly from where your own had been moments ago, a matching pink dusting his cheekbones. The door opened revealing a smug looking Sherlock.
"Be careful Mycroft, you'll catch flies like that if you aren't cautious enough."
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levis-little-nuggie · 3 years
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How the brothers would react to catching f!MC riding a suction-cupped dildo on the communal HOL washing machine
I didn't think through how much I hate this idea, but I fuckin ran with it so here we are and I'm not apologizing. However the title is still a work in progress. I am accepting ideas.
This first one is Lucifer's reaction.
Warnings: little bit of blood (in a sexy way), he calls MC some vulgar names >:( but he apologizes so I guess it's okay, fem!MC because I was feeling self-indulgent.
Rating: explicit 😌
Word count (so far): 2,628
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Carrying the weight of the hamper on her hip, MC closed the laundry room for behind her and padded over to the oversized washing machine. It was laundry day for her and living in a mansion with seven demon brothers didn't make this any easier. Their keen sense of smell had her on edge about keeping certain articles of clothing cleaner, washing them more frequently than when she lived in the human world.
She threw in her load of pajamas, towels, and underwear, including the pair she had been currently wearing, leaving her in an oversized shirt she'd "borrowed" from Beel. MC mixed in the detergent and fabric softener, and started the cycle. As the hot water started pouring into the bin, MC double-checked that the door was closed before pulling out the suction-cup dildo she'd hidden in the laundry bin and stuck it to the top of the washer. MC nudged the step stool closer to the machine, applied a generous amount of lube to the toy, clambered on top of the washer, and positioned herself over the dildo.
Thanks to previous instances in the laundry room, MC was fully aware of both the machine's durability to hold her weight comfortably, and its vigorous shaking when loads were unbalanced. Asmo had winked at her when she came running to him for help for taming the large appliance. "You could say, with a bit of creativity, it'd be the next best thing to sitting on my face, hon."
He'd been right. Unfortunately, this also meant that Asmo knew what laundry day meant to MC and she already felt mortified sharing this dirty secret with Asmo so MC tried her best to schedule her trip to the laundry room for whenever he wasn't home. Luckily enough, it seemed the rest of the brothers were completely unaware of her sinful indulgence and this activity quickly became addicting.
Having already been wet from the excitement, MC's fingers slid into her, pumping and scissoring to stretch herself open. She pressed the tip of the toy against her opening, biting her lip to stifle the noises she wanted to make as her fingers moved to circle over her clit, squeezing her eyes shut as her hips lowered onto the toy. Taking a few moments to breathe from the size of the dildo filling her up, MC maneuvered her legs to shift from her kneeling position sitting on the machine, toy fully sheathed inside, her ass against the lid, and legs hanging over the top.
Her hands trembled from both the excitement and the warmth that stirred in her lower abdomen as she reached for her phone; the machine would be still for awhile as the clothes soaked, but MC loved to fantasize she was cock-warming any one of the brothers until they both gave in and he fucked her mercilessly.
Lazily circling her hips to feel the toy move around inside her, MC mindlessly nibbled on her thumb while flicking thru Devilgram. Scrolling down the feed, she stopped to watch a video Mammon had posted, the audio flowing through the DDD's speakers a teaser for an upcoming song he was releasing. Turning up the volume on her device, MC let the video repeat as she felt herself getting hyped for the track to release. After double-tapping to like the post and leaving an energetic comment, MC opened the music app on her DDD and shuffled the playlist she made of the brothers' songs to stream while she opened a game on her phone to complete the daily task while waiting for the washer cycle to start.
The above set-up will be the same for all the brothers. Below this point will be Lucifer's reaction.
Another prank from the Lucifer You S*ck team left the eldest with some ruffled feathers and an ever-growing coffee stain on his RAD uniform. A vein pulsed on his forehead as he sauntered to the laundry room.
What he wasn't expecting, however, was to hear MC singing along to Satan's song behind the laundry room door. The eldest brother hesitated, his grip tightening on the doorknob as he debated waiting for her laundry to finish but found his brows furrowing as she stopped singing, the machine started its spin cycle, and the faintest of moans floated through the door.
"What in Diavolo's name-" Lucifer opened the door to investigate but halted as he took in the scene before him. MC's eyes had widened, staring directly at Lucifer in a way that perfectly explained the human idiom "like a deer stuck in the headlights." Her mouth was agape but quickly snapped shut as she tried to stifle her panting, legs crossing themselves in an attempt to look innocent, but her white-knuckle grip on the edge of the washer had him feeling alarmed.
"MC, what's going on? Are you feeling unwell?" The machine had started rocking as it began its spin cycle, but Lucifer couldn't figure out why MC was sitting on top of the washer. Was she feeling ill? Her forehead had a sheen of sweat, did she have a fever? Lucifer dropped his clean uniform and crossed the room so he was directly infront of MC, reaching out to feel her heated face, completely disregarding her feeble attempts to assure him she was fine.
'Lucifer! I'm fine, just doing some laundry' was what she wanted to say. However, with the machine rocking, the dildo was rubbing right up against her g-spot and she was fighting the urge to grind her hips. She managed to sound out the first half of his name, but the way his gorgeous, ruby eyes looked into hers with concern, his facial features that were carved by God himself, and a single thrust against that spot had her shivering, finishing the rest of his name in a sultry moan.
The Avatar of Pride blinked as the cogs in his brain stuttered trying to piece together what was happening, his hand froze in mid-air as he had been reaching out to feel the temperature of her skin. The machine continued to rock and MC couldn't find the strength to pretend she wasn't riding a dildo on the communal washing machine and felt her control starting to slip. MC couldn't read the expression on his face and averted her gaze, trying to deny that him watching her like this was turning her on even more.
Seeing his hand stretched out, MC leaned forward the small distance to press her cheek against his palm, biting her lip as she stole a glance at the demon. His eyes remained transfixed, dazed, but he didn't pull his hand away and MC was feeling a little more daring than usual. Tilting her head, she pressed his thumb against her lip, her eyes flickering again to his own for barely half a second, and closed her lips around the tip of his thumb, running her tongue along the seam of the leather. His lack of response coaxed MC on to keep going. Her tongue drew the digit in further, lips gliding over the leather, the material fueling new fantasies she'd previously overlooked.
As the dildo continued its steady rocking, MC felt her control melting away and frustration slowly started to build. Why hadn't he moved? Surely it'd be better if the eldest had scoffed in disgust and turned away than to have him just staring at her like this. She swirled her tongue around his thumb, lips hollowing as she sucked, trying to illicit some sort of response from the demon.
However, he remanded unmoving. MC felt an array of emotions ranging from frustration, shame, embarrassment, anger, all mixed with the sexual desire raging thru her, MC felt tears prick her eyes. She released the thumb from between her lips with an audible pop and faced Lucifer with a snarl; which he found endearing and as threatening as the chihuahua.
"I don't do live performances. Either touch me or leave." MC made a show or grabbing her breast from under her shirt, letting the pleasure from the toy fill her senses and began grounding her hips against the toy as the spin cycle picked up speed. Getting ready to bark at him again, MC yelped as the shirt was torn open and a pair of hands gripped her hips keeping her still but the dildo continued moving with the machine.
"I didn't realize our little human was such a naughty slut. Really. Sticking a toy on our washing machine? Are you that desperate to be fucked?" Nails bit into her flesh as his voice called out her sins, all traces of her bravado gone, replaced with an overwhelming sense of embarrassment and shame. MC tried hiding her face but he still saw the tears that threatened to spill over before crawl down her face and cooed.
"There's nothing to feel ashamed over, my dove. I apologize if I was too vulgar." Lucifer lifted her hips and she squirmed, not ready for him to see the full extent of the situation; the idea of the dildo coated in her juices waving about on top of the poor washing machine only intensified her embarrassment. However, before she could speak out, Lucifer dropped her hips causing her to slam herself back down on the toy. Stars erupted across her vision as the demon repeated the action, drinking in her reactions and felt his erection strain against his pants.
"This carnal desire is human nature. If anything, it's our own fault for not considering such a basic need." His fingers trailed along her neck, tapping against her pulse as if in thought. The hum of the washer broke through the moment and Lucifer clicked his tongue behind his teeth. He reached behind her to turn off the machine and lifted MC off the machine, and the dildo.
MC didn't get a chance to wince from the manhandling as her lips were immediately covered with his own and she felt him pulling her close to him, his hands urging her to wrap her legs around him. She couldn't match the fire he was pouring into her fast enough and he growled, simultaneously smacking her ass and grinding his erection against her folds. This new side of the prideful demon caught her off guard, but the smack brought her back with a fervor.
Her hands fumbled with the buttons on his collar and he kneaded where he spanked her, causing MC to mewl into the kiss. One of his hands moved up to hold the back of her neck as he walked to pin her against a wall. Her legs squeezed his hips tighter and he reached up to break open the collar of his shirt, shedding the clothing haphazardly somewhere else in the room. Meanwhile, MC moved to undo his pants, reaching into his trousers to palm his erection. Lucifer hissed and grabbed her wrists, pinning them to her stomach with one hand.
Releasing her lips, Lucifer latched onto her throat, biting down on the skin above her pulse and positioned himself at her entrance, hesitating for only a moment to allow her the chance to back out. Her nails dug into his shoulders as she braced herself, kissing the side of his head, and granting him permission with a soft, "please." Her voice turned into a wanton cry as he pushed himself into her. His tongue lapped at her throat, sucking against her skin as a feeble distraction to keep himself from fucking her before she was ready but the way her body was receiving him was making the demon tremble.
"Lu, please, I need you to fuck me," all shyness and mortification was gone and all that remained was the sexual desire and a sense of urgency.
"Do you know what you're asking of me, my dear? Do not underestimate me."
"Lucifer, fuck me or else I will invoke our pact and make you-" the rest of MC's threat was lost, replaced by a sob as Lucifer's restraint snapped and began thrusting wildly into MC. It didn't take long for him to readjust his position, turning them away from the wall. With his hands on her hips, the eldest brother moved her against his thrusts, bouncing her on his cock and slamming back into her. His rhythm would change randomly between fast and shallow to deep thrusts where he'd pull out to the tip and snap his hips to fully sheath himself. He'd felt her muscles constrict around him a few times, keeping a tally of how many orgasms he pulled from her, but he wanted her to make a mess and to make a mess of her.
Bending MC backwards, he continued drilling into her as he held her hips in-front of him. Her voice cried out in a scream as he relentlessly thrusted against that spot and she felt a wave building.
"Lu s-st, wait, I'm, you're gonna make, h-hold on-"
"I know MC, it's okay. Let go."
With Lucifer's words of encouragement, MC felt herself relax, giving in to the impending wave that continued to build. Reaching out, her hands found a shelf to stabilize herself, her mouth open in a silent scream as the dam broke and ecstasy filled her senses. The way she clamped down on his cock had Lucifer's hips stuttering through his own orgasm, filling her with his seed quicker than he had intended; the intensity of her orgasm having coaxed his to follow suit.
As the fog cleared in his mind, Lucifer's fingers twitched and he noticed the array of bruises littering her hips. MC lifted her head to look up at him, but the rest of her body was limp. She smiled sheepishly causing Lucifer to roll his eyes but his lips turned to shape a playful smile and MC giggled as he pulled her up. They winced as he pulled out of her, but she kissed his cheek and he brushed his nose against hers, humming as they basked in their afterglow together.
Lucifer grabbed a blanket to wrap around them and turned to leave the laundry room when he caught sight of the glittery purple dildo still mounted to the lid of the washing machine. He snorted and walked over to it. Having curled into the demon, MC had to turn to see why he'd stopped walking and groaned.
"Don't you dare."
"Hmm?
"You're going to say something really condescending and I don't want to hear it." MC snuggled closer into Lucifer's chest, pulling the blanket over her head in protest.
"I don't know about 'condescending,' but-"
"Lucifer, don't you fuckin do it."
"This had to been Asmo's idea."
"..."
"It just reeks of desperation and wanting to get caught."
"Lucifer!"
"Now if you had been a good human, and come to me with your situation sooner, all of this could have been avoided. But now, there's a big mess to clean up." Having lived with the demon brothers long enough and sitting thru many a famous Lucifer lecture, MC could hear the smirk in his voice. In retaliation, MC pinched the Avatar of Pride's nipple earning her a grunt and a thump on the back of her head. She hissed like a cat from behind the blanket and Lucifer sighed from the absurdity of the whole thing.
"Do you want to go get cleaned up?"
"....yes."
"Do you need me to keep carrying you?"
"...yes."
"Then be a good girl and hold this." MC pulled the blanket away from her head, curiosity having piqued her interest, but groaned when Lucifer handed her the aforementioned dildo. "I don't want the others seeing this in case the room isn't cleaned up by the time they come back from their classes."
Damn him for making perfect, logical sense.
"Besides, I might want to use it on you later."
"...I hate you."
"I know."
223 notes · View notes
unbreathable · 3 years
Text
ride home  / S. Rogers
Summary : As a girl you were always told to never accept a ride from unknown men. You knew what could happen, you knew the dangers and heck, you`ve seen how it ruined some girls. But hey, he`s your teacher, nothing could happen. Right?
Pairing : Dark(soft)!teacher Steve Rogers x female Reader
Before you read, please understand that this is intended to be a dark fic. There will be noncon elements, rape, violence, manipulation and so much more. If you find any of these disturbing, please click away. 18+ only.
Warnings for this one shot : manipulation, noncon elements, rape, use of drugs, lost of virginity. This is some kind of au and Steve might be out of character a little.
Word count : 3.319
Credit : for the gif I used, the credit goes to its rightful creator.
Note : Don’t expect this to be any good. I came up with this over the course of a few hours and I’m still learning how to write one shots, as I find it much easier to write a series. Also I still suck at writing “smut”. I’m trying to perfect it, tho. Promise. Anyway, hope you guys enjoy this one shot till my mind would be satisfied with the way the next chapter of “The Magpie” turned out and would let me post it. :)) Also, please excuse any mistakes I made. Have a great day you guys!
                   Also, to all the writers from this platform : thank you !
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Girl found wondering around without any memory of the last few days, claims she had been abducted and raped...
Your eyes narrowed as you stared at the case which has been all over the news for the past week. It was quite predictable, really. Young girl, too drunk for her own good woke up by herself in the middle of nowhere. You sighed. In a city as big as New York, cases like this happened almost every other day, but there was always something left behind. Fight marks, blood, hair. Anything that could help the police find the person who did it. This time though, there was nothing.
The poor girl. You couldn`t help but pity her. She must be terrified. All alone against a world that knows nothing better than to judge. You pinched your nose in exasperation.
Cases like this, it`s what made you choose to study law. You wanted to be able to help other women. To offer them a chance at justice. No one deserved to be told that it was their own fault for wondering alone at night or for wearing something more showing. No girl should feel like the law protects only the male population...
“ And what`s your opinion on this matter, miss I`m too busy scrolling on my phone to pay attention to class?”
You cursed in your head, as you put your phone away and lifted your eyes to meet your teacher.
Steve Rogers. America`s hero, savior of the world and an actual pain in your ass, was looking at you expectantly. You held his gaze as you forced your lips to form some kind of smile. Something about him always put you on edge and the way his eyes darkened as he stared at you, didn`t exactly help ease the feeling.
“I`m sorry, I was distracted.” you murmured, not wanting to give him the satisfaction that he caught you unprepared. ”If you would be so kind...”
You looked at him as you raised one eyebrow. It was always like this. No matter what you did he`d always find something to pick at you. At first you took it as a form of banter between a teacher and his students, but with time it became clearly that he had a problem with you. Your grades didn`t reflect the hard work you always put in. Your extra work wouldn`t be considered. Every time you would as much as look at your watch he`d find something to jab at you. He would also have something to say about every paper you handed him. It was a miracle you even made the grade for his class.
You cringed as you remembered the comments he would make about your life outside his class. You seemed to bump into him on a daily. There was also something, in the way he watched your every move, that it made the hair at the back of your neck stay high on alert. You really couldn`t understand what you`ve done that America`s sweetheart despised you that much.
”The women rights...” he smirked down at you.
“Oh, yes. I strongly believe that women should have got their rights the same time men did.” you smiled when you realized that he wanted to add something else. “I mean we know that every society of this world was built around androcentrism, but if we`re real the women were the ones that kept everything from falling apart.” you drew in a short breath. “Oh, and I believe that 1920 was a bit late for our women to get their rights, since women all around the world fought for it since the 18th century.”
You smirked, as for once in your life the bell rang exactly when you needed it. Forcing a smile his way, you stood up gathering your notebooks. You were quite proud of yourself, not because your answer was the desired one, but because you got on professor Rogers nerves. While he didn`t seem to have a problem with women and feminists in general, he sure had a problem with the way you choose to speak on the matter. From the corner of your eye you saw his jaw twitch.
At first you were afraid to even say your opinion lest you would upset him, but now you enjoyed to see that vein on his forehead nearly pop. You held back a giggle. Oh well, at least you won`t have to see him for the next few weeks.
“Professor!” you rolled your eyes when you herd your bestfriend use her sweet voice. “I was wondering if you`d like to come to our party tonight.”
You stood straight, narrowing your eyes at the one that has been your friend since the first day you came to the city. What the hell was happening. You knew she had a crush on him, everyone did, but she wasn`t the one to just go and ask someone out, especially not him. You watched her in confusion as professor Rogers made his way to the front of the class.
“You know, with everything happening right now, the uni council would let us hold the party only if there was someone that could take care of us.”
“Oh!” you supposed that made sense, but even so why did it have to be him.
“Of course professor Barnes already said that he`ll be there, but we`d be thankful if you came too. Please!” your friend bated her eyelashes at him as you rolled your eyes.
Professor Rogers had a pleased smile as he moved his eyes from her to you. You held his gaze, even going as far as raising one eyebrow at him. He blinked, before turning his head towards the rest of the class.
“Since you asked so nicely.” he said after a short moment dismissively. ”`I`ll be there.”
There was something sinister in his eyes. Something that you failed to see as you made your way out of the lecture class.
“I can`t believe you invited him!” you playfully jabbed your friend in the shoulder as she walked next to you.
“Oh, come on! It’s just tonight, and I bet he won’t be able to stay up that late since he’s like... the same age as history?” she bit back a laugh, as she took your hand. “It will be fun, you`ll see.”
You hoped she was right since you were never a big fan of parties of any kind.
                                       _ _ _
This wasn`t fun. Not at all.
You knew you should have stayed home, yet you still wanted to enjoy the last night with your class mates before break. But this wasn`t it. The music was too loud and you couldn`t even hear what some people were saying. Also you`ve never really been a techno fan. The food was crap and you were sure everyone came just because there were free drinks.
It was well past midnight and you have been there since the beginning, but you were already dreading it. You smiled as your only joy came from watching drunk freshmen being rejected by some of your friends. The girls were ruthless and that made you proud.
“Hey girl!” your bestfriend came by your side, holding two glasses in her hands as her body danced along the rhythm of the music. “Look at was professor Rogers sent us.”
Her words were slurred and you could see that she drank already too much. That`s why at first you thought you didn`t hear her right. While it wasn`t unusual for men to send women drinks, getting a drink from your teacher was something you never thought could happen. It was wrong in a way.
“What?” your eyes widened as soon as the word left your mouth.
You eyed the glass she handed you. It seemed to be one of your favorites, and after the sour taste the beer left in your mouth, that would have been like a desert. Still something made you suspicious.
“Come on, take it!”  your friend pressed as she smiled broadly. “He must have realized that he’s been an ass all year and wants to make amends.”
She was giggling as her glossy eyes drifted around the room. She didn`t seem to be able to focus on anything, but somehow her shaky hands found yours and brought the glass you were holding closer to your mouth. You weren`t exactly sure what came over you, but you opened your mouth and let the liquid go down your throat. Involuntarily, your eyes wondered around till you saw the back of your least favorite teacher. He didn`t even seem to care about anything around him as he was engaged into a discussion with professor Barnes. That alone made you feel safe, even though the drink left a bitter taste in your mouth.
You were too quick to judge, you resonated. This was probably his way of saying: “Sorry I tormented you that much.” You suddenly giggled. It was shortly followed by your friend`s laughter. She threw the glass to the side and took your hand leading you to the dancefloor.
You weren`t that much of a dancer. You knew just some basics moves and that was it, but now you didn`t seem to care. You let your body move, and only chuckled when your legs started to feel like jelly. It was a strange feeling. You suddenly felt like were floating.
You furrowed your brows as you started to feel that your body didn`t exactly respond to your impulses. Everything around you happened in slow motion.
You cursed. Just how much did you drink? Moving one hand to your head, you tried to get your senses back, but you found it too hard to do. Your head buzzed. For a second you looked around trying to spot your friend among the sweaty bodies on the dancefloor, but it was like you couldn`t recognize anybody.
Fuck this. You had enough of this party already, and the way you felt made you decide that it was time to go home. You moved between the sea of bodies as fast as you could. Your coat and purse were the only thing you spent more than five minutes looking for, but as you found them you practically run out of there.
The bus stop wasn`t that far, but just the thought that you`ll have to go home by bus, made you want to throw up. You didn`t feel well and there was  dizziness that started to overcome you. As you watched the empty street, you cursed again. Of course you`ll have to wait till the next bus came. Damn it! You should really get your license.
The sound of a engine from behind you, made you turn your head. Your eyes narrowed as you watched the Range Rover slow down and actually stop right next to you. You squinted your eyes, trying to see through the tinted glass, but as a wave of nausea hit you, you moved your head to the side. You didn`t exactly pay attention when one of the windows went down. You didn`t really care. You felt sick, and all you wanted, was to get home.
“ I saw you left the party early.” the deep voice said. “Are you all right kitten?”
You hissed when you heard the voice of the last person you wanted to see right now. What was he even doing here? Your heart skipped a beat as another wave hit. You took a deep breath and tried to steady yourself. Just ignore him and he`ll go away. You didn`t exactly knew why you choose to act like that but there was something in your head that told you it was for the best.
“Come on girl, I have to make sure everyone is safe and sound.” you heard his voice. “If you don`t feel fine, I can take you home.”
The idea of getting home sooner and in a nice car was looking really good right now. But still, you didn`t feel like it was the best for you. You choose to keep quiet for reasons not even you knew. You glossy eyes scanned the schedule of the bus that was right in front of you. Thirty minutes and you`ll go home.
You heard professor Rogers sigh.
“And here I thought you never shut your mouth.” there was a deep chuckle, fallowed by the sound of the engine coming to life. “Look kitten I can either get you home or I`ll go my merry way and let you here all alone... well not quite. But I`m not sure you`d want that kind of company.”
Confusion filled your mind. The sudden move you made to look at him, made you dizzy. You tried to focus your eyes, in time to see him pointing to somewhere behind you. You slowly turned.
A group of guys were eyeing you like a wolf would his prey. Your mouth fell open as they did obscene gestures at you. Your whole body freeze as fear took over you. You knew what could happen. Suddenly you were more sober that ever and as you heard the car start moving, you nearly threw yourself in front of it. On shaky legs you moved towards the door.
“Wait” you find it hard to speak. “Professor, I`m sorry I... please!”
You looked at him with pleading eyes, and didn`t even register the way he smirked as you got into the car. Everything was a haze. You only felt like you could breath when the car started to gain speed. You didn`t even remembered to give him your address or anything, but as the car rolled down various streets you were only thankful you were far away from them.
“It such a crazy world out there” professor Rogers voice made you move your head towards him, but as the fear was gone, you started to feel the dizziness again.
With unfocused eyes you watched him. America`s hero was giving you a ride home for free and you were acting like he was your biggest enemy. What was wrong with you?
“I have to say I`m impressed.” he suddenly said as the car started to slow down. “That was one of the strongest drugs that you drank, and you still have some of your conscious left. The other ones were down after a few minutes.”
You looked at him and simply blinked. You wondered if your mind was playing games with you. Surely, he hadn`t said what you think you heard. You must have imagined everything.
“E... excuse me?” you asked dully.
You drew in a shaky breath as your trembling hand went to the door. He chuckled darkly at your attempts to open it. You wanted to scream but as your movement became slower and slower you found that fear wasn`t enough to fuel your limp body.
The car came to a sudden stop. You closed your eyes as you felt hands pulling you back.
“Now, now honey.” you could feel his breath on the back of your neck. “Don`t waste your energy, you`ll need it.”
You turned your head and watched him through your eyelashes. Something in your head was screaming at you to fight, to run, to get away. You wanted to punch, scratch, hurt him in any way. But your body didn`t listen.
It happened too fast. In a matter of second your dress was ripped to shreds. And your found yourself pressed to the door. He was over you in an instant. Turning your head to the side so that he could stare into your eyes. He had a hungry look on his face. You`ve seen it many times but it never terrified you as much as now.
“Just as pretty as I imagined.” he said in a husky voice.
You squeezed your legs as you felt his hand moving around along your body. He tugged at your bra till the clasps snapped. Your nipples stood erect, you didn`t know if it was from the cold of the car or the heat that was inside you. One of his hands came forward at pinched at your nipples. You made to move, but as sensing your intention he tugged your head back by your hair.
“Don`t you even dare!” he growled as his thumb played with one of your nipples. “I waited a long time for this”.
He leaned forward kissing down your stretched neck. His mouth was hot against your skin. You gasped when you felt his tongue leaving wet traces along your collarbone. He tugged at your hair one more time before his hand went down.
“Always dressing like this world is your own runaway, always thinking that you know it all.” he let out a moan as he squeezed your ass. “Do you know what a face as pretty as yours and an attitude like that do to a man?”
You whimpered. You never meant to catch his attention in that way, you just wanted to feel good about yourself. You wanted to tell him that. To tell him that you were sorry, but your brain didn`t work anymore. There was no reaction even as he spanked you. You felt like you could pass out every second.
“Don`t even think about it!”
You closed your eyes when your panties were soon the same as your other clothes. Slick was going down your legs. Despite everything, you were aroused.
“So fucking wet already. Good girl!” he praised.
You felt his hand descend down to your very core, proding around. You bit your lips as tears filled your eyes.
“How many have been here before?” he gave a low chuckle the same time his fingers pinched your button.
“One?” he mocked as one of his long fingers entered you.
You held back a gasp. Non, no, no. This wasn`t happening. Nobody touched you like that before. Nobody even came close to it. That`s not how you wanted it not how you dreamt it would happen. You wanted dinner, roses, a man you loved... not him.
“Two?” he continued as another finger stretched you.
You felt your walls clench around his fingers, as he moved them in and out ou you, everything while his thumb circled your most sensitive part.
“Fuck... you`re tight!” his breath was ragged, it was like he couldn`t get enough.
There was a sudden pause. In a quick move you found yourself pressed to the door of the car, as he angled your body to have better access to your burning core. He drew in a breath.
“A virgin.” he moaned.
You closed your eyes as you herd him playing at his clothes. The sudden hardness you felt proding around your core, made you shiver. You didn`t dare to look back and see it. You were scared. It seemed too big. You were afraid it would split you in a half.
You screamed when he entered you. The pain blurred your vision. Your whole body ached and tears fell down your cheeks. No, no, no. You bit back a moan of pain when he started to move, not caring about you at all. His moves were rough, punishing.
“Shhh doll, I`ll take care of you.” he rasped. “You must have waited so long for this... saving yourself for me.”
Your body moved in rhythm with his. His cock dragged along your walls as every move sent a wave of pain through you. Soon though, you found the pain disappeared. A strange feeling took over you. It was almost pleasurable. You guessed you would have enjoyed it under any other circumstances. But now? Now you were just tired.
As you passed out, you failed to notice the feeling of something warm flowing through you.
                                          _ _ _
Steve smiled down at your sleeping form. So pretty, even after being used like that. You had a glow. Too bad you might not remember anything that happened. He chuckled. It`s a  good thing he planned to keep you. He`ll make sure you`ll never forget him.
You were his girl after all. The only reason he took that shitty job as a teacher.
346 notes · View notes
quokkacore · 3 years
Text
with great power I [lee jeno]
summary: there are two things jeno loves most about his life. one being spiderman, the other being you, his best friend. there’s just one issue: after your father’s death, you decide you hate both spiderman and yourself.
pairing: lee jeno x reader
genre: superhero au, high school au, coming of age, best friends to strangers(ish) to lovers, fluff, ANGST, minor crack
warnings (for this chapter): language, violence, gun violence, the mafia, parental death, police presence, sexual references, bullying (ily san im sorry), the dreamies being dicks to each other, police corruption, towards the end jeno experiences something similar to sensory overload, americanized names, pop culture references, VERY jeno centric
song rec: we go up - nct dream // any song - zico // 21 questions - waterparks // talk (remix feat. megan thee stallion & yo gotti) - khalid // sunrise - ateez // i really like you - carly rae jepsen // dare - gorillaz // stray kids - the tortoise and the hare
word count: 10.5k
a/n: this is so late...... i blame attack on titan. but hey!! better late than never :] a huge thanks to @doderyscoffee​ for beta reading <3
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main masterlist // story masterlist
chapter one: jeno and the terrible, horrible, no good, very bad week
Jeno despised Tuesdays. He was pretty sure that Tuesdays despised Jeno as well because all of his worst days just so happen to be Tuesdays. He was 96% sure that, if there was a god, his day off was on Tuesdays, or that the planets aligned in such a manner on Tuesdays that it caused universal despair and misery. If he was to take Donghyuck's word for it, his chakra attracted negative energy the most on Tuesdays.
When Jeno was 5, his goldfish Pippin had died on a Tuesday. When he had his ass handed to him on the playground by San Choi in the third grade, it was a Tuesday. And in the seventh grade, he'd failed his Spanish test, missed his bus and walked home in the rain only to find out that his Aunt Sunny was at work, he'd left his keys in his locker and that had to wait an hour before she got home to unlock it for him, all on a Tuesday. 
And wouldn't you know it, here he was, late for the first day of senior year, which was, of all days, a godforsaken Tuesday.
In his eternal wisdom, he'd stayed up gaming with Renjun until two in the morning, and because of it, slept through his three alarms, one set at six-thirty, the other at 6:45, the last one at 7:00. 
He'd woken up at 7:17, to the sound of his elderly neighbor's pet chihuahua barking at a pigeon, checked the time, immediately panicked, sped into the shower, gotten dressed in a haste, grabbed a few granola bars from the pantry, and ran out the door while trying to jam his backpack closed, and managed to catch the train at 7:40, which took about twenty minutes to get to his stop, plus a ten-minute walk to school, and class started at 8:10. Not to mention he’d have to stop by the office and pick up his schedule. At best, he’d be five minutes late to his first class. But tardies were tardies, regardless, and the last thing he needed was to lose his perfect attendance streak. 
He fished out his phone while standing on the train, waiting for his stop, scrolling through Instagram, and liking random pictures. A ping! from his phone caught his attention, then two, then a third. He smiled softly when your name popped up on his screen.
[7:48 AM]
y/n: pssst
y/n: shithead
y/n: where r u ????
[7:49 AM] 
y/n: i can sEE u online on ig u know
jeno: …… i'm on the train
jeno: woke up late
y/n: YOURE GONNA BE LATR
y/n: LATE*
y/n: ON THE FIRST DAY OF SENIOR YEAR
[7:50]
jeno: probably, yeah
jeno: it's the school district's fault, why would they make the first day of school on a fkn TUESDAY 
y/n: ohhh yeahh its terrible tuesday
y/n: [sent an attachment!]
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[7:51 AM]
jeno: SHUT UP
jeno: you're not funny >:(
jeno: how dare you laugh at my misfortune
y/n: au contraire im hilarious
jeno: meanie :(
jeno: im gonna be late i hate it here
jeno: it'll end up on my permanent record and i'm not gonna get into college and then i'm gonna die,,,
[7:52 AM] 
y/n: sometimes ur worse than hyuck i swear 
y/n: FIRST OF ALL permanent records dont even exist !!!!!! its propaganda duh
y/n: also ur literally never late 
y/n: im sure o n e tardy wont do anything chill
y/n: dont be stupid youll be fine
Don’t be stupid. Too little, too late, he thought, already having got off the train at a previous stop. Now, he was looking for an unoccupied street or alleyway, which, for once, was easy, taking a deep breath before he did the exact opposite of what you’d told him not to do. Don’t be stupid. 
The buildings are low, he thought to himself, it’ll be easier to see me. 
Don’t be stupid.
Too late!
Thwip!
Jeno didn’t hesitate to use the web fluid to pull himself up onto the wall, climbing in a haste, before running and jumping onto the next building. He quickly built up a quick pace, using the web fluid occasionally to swing onto a building slightly out of jumping range. 
Signs in English, Chinese, Korean, and Spanish flew past him as he seemingly flew over the Queens traffic, leaving Flushing behind and crossing quickly into College Point quicker than he would if he took the train. He glanced to his left and caught a view of the bay, and far across it, the LaGuardia airport watchtower.
Jeno had lived in New York City his entire life. He knew Queens like the back of his hand, knew every dingy alleyway, every sketchy street, which restaurants to avoid if you didn’t want to get food poisoning, which convenience store aunties were the nicest and didn’t pinch his cheeks too hard. It was his home, and most likely would be for the rest of his life. 
But seeing it like this, flying past him below as he glided with ease from building to building would never cease to be a sight to him. It was like watching from the perspective of an outsider, seeing people in their cars, walking along the street gave him a brand new perspective. A Jeno’s eye view, he called it, since he was pretty sure he was the only one in New York City.
Another noise from his phone brought him back to reality. He shook his head, stopping briefly to catch his breath and fish out his phone briefly. 
[7:57 AM] 
y/n: let me know when u get here !!!
No time to respond, he put away the phone and continued his trek to school. He had less than ten minutes to get there. But he knew he was already at least five minutes away, much quicker than he would be if he had decided to stick to the train. He smiled a bit to himself, feeling ever so slightly smug.
The hustle and bustle of the city definitely proved challenging to find a place to land without many eyes, but he figured it out eventually, landing behind a dumpster in an alleyway behind a restaurant that he knew was about three or four blocks from the school. He figured it would be a lot better to take it on foot from here. The notebooks he was carrying in his backpack bounced up and down with every step he took. 
After what seemed like forever, the gates to the school appeared in his view, and Jeno felt a joy in his heaving chest, something he would have never thought would happen upon seeing the absolute hellhole that was Samuel Morse High School. 
[8:06 AM]
jeno: just did >:D
Picking up his schedule was both quick and insanely long. He couldn’t stop himself from tapping his left foot while the secretary found his schedule and handed it to him. “Kibum, please hurry,” He muttered, and Kibum raised an eyebrow at him, but his gaze was teasing. “That’s Mr. Kim to you, in school at least.” 
He handed Jeno his schedule a few seconds later. “Tell your Aunt to come pick up her casserole dish, by the way. She left it at my house after my last viewing party.”
“The Bachelor?”
“Please. We’re too classy for that. Drag Race.”
“Ah. I see.”
“Jeno,” Kibum said, staring up at him from his desk, his gaze now much more serious, “Get to class. Happy first day of senior year.”
“Thanks, Mr. Kim.”
He managed to make it to chemistry class at 8:09 with seconds to spare. His eyes quickly scanned the room upon entering, hoping his friends were in the class with him. He caught a few familiar faces, most of which, like San Choi's, he wished to avoid. No one paid him any mind. Everyone was still speaking to the people next to them, no doubt exchanging stories of summer vacation. 
  A hand shot up towards the back, waving at him. A smile stretched across his face as he registered your face, feet not hesitating to carry him towards the empty seat next to you. His heart skipped a beat at seeing your smile, and he tried his best to ignore it.
“Hey,” You greeted, “That was fast. I thought you said you were gonna be late.”
Jeno shrugged, eyes landing on the dark shade of the lab table. “The train was a lot faster than I expected, apparently.”
You wrinkled your nose. “Why do you smell so bad?”
“I, uh… ran a little.” 
You grimaced, and Jeno tried to casually sniff at his slightly sweaty clothes. It’s not that bad. “I still don’t understand why you won’t let me drive you to school. You’re literally next door.”
“I don’t know,” He answered, rolling his eyes, “Maybe it’s because when it comes to that truck, you are absolutely insane. You won’t even let me drink water in that thing.”
The truck in question, a faded red 1998 Chevrolet S-10, had been your gift to yourself for your 17th birthday. You’d spent two summers saving up to buy yourself a truck, and that was what you were able to get for what you had. To say it was a huge piece of junk on wheels was an understatement. 
The thing smelled like mothballs no matter how many air fresheners you bought it, the engine sounded like an old man having a coughing fit, and there was a very suspicious stain in the backseat that wouldn’t go away no matter how many times you scrubbed it. But for some reason, you treated it like it was your own baby. The amount of times you’d yelled at Jaemin for trying to put his feet on the dashboard was too high to count.
You mirrored his movement, eyes rolling as you sighed. “At least let me drive you home after school today. Maybe you can stay and we can finally watch Blade Runner.”
You’d been trying to get him to watch the film for almost a month now, begging and pleading because you insisted that he’d love it. He offered an awkward stare, before opening his backpack and pulling out a notebook. “Can’t,” He mumbled, “I’m headed into Manhattan. I have my internship afterwards.”
“Oh, yeah,” You said nonchalantly, eyebrows shooting up as you remembered, “Park Industries.” 
He was about to reply when Mrs. Baker, the chemistry teacher, finally entered. She’d been working at SMHS for 30 years and had never, apparently, been nice, if his Aunt Sunny’s stories were anything to go by. However, she had apparently always spoken as if she smoked two packs a day. She was rambling about the importance of making the most of senior year academically, adult responsibilities, college, and whatnot. You and Jeno exchanged glances often throughout the monologue, hoping it would end soon. 
“Enough of that,” She said after what seemed like an eternity, “Everyone quiet down, I’m going to call roll.”
Names were quickly called, and Jeno was ready to pull out a pencil and start working with you until Mrs Baker demanded a switch in seats, beginning to call on random names in an effort to deter everyone from speaking. 
"Please not with Choi, please not with Choi," Jeno muttered under his breath, glancing warily at San, who was staring ahead, looking bored. 
San had had it out for Jeno ever since day one, in first grade. For some reason, everything Jeno did seemed to annoy the other boy. He wasn't funny enough, or too nerdy, or too quiet. Jeno was always too much or too little for him. 
You touched his forearm, and he looked towards you. 
“You’ll be fine,” You said softly, trying not to alert the teacher, “You’re not gonna get paired up with him, and you can take it to the office if you need to.” “Yeah, because I’m sure Coach Peralta would be thrilled if someone tried to get his precious midfielder in trouble.”
“Choi, San,” Mrs Baker’s voice rang throughout the room, and Jeno braced himself for the worst, eyebrows furrowing with worry. 
“You’ll be sitting with… L/N, Y/N.” 
Jeno’s shoulders slumped, but your face remained impassive. You picked up your stuff, and pouted silently at Jeno in apology, before making your way to the front. 
“Lee, Jeno,” Mrs Baker called a few minutes later, “You’ll be sitting with Jang, Yeeun.”
He breathed out a sigh of relief. Yeeun is nice, Jeno thought to himself, I could sit with Yeeun. She wasn’t part of his main friend group, but he had tutored her in math during sophomore year in exchange for her helping him with Spanish, and they’d been pretty friendly ever since. 
“Hey,” Yeeun greeted as Jeno sat down, and Jeno smiled at her. 
“Remember, these will be your assigned lab partners for the rest of the semester. No changes, no exceptions.” Mrs. Baker sat down at her desk, before beginning to talk about something Jeno didn’t really pay attention to.
You exchanged glances with Jeno, and he gave you a look of sympathy as you gestured at San with your eyes. San was talking to you about something—probably bragging about some soccer achievement—but you weren’t paying him much attention. Jeno swallowed something growing in his throat as he looked at how your hair looked today. 
It was nothing relatively new, the same hairstyle you used on most days. But still, there was a bit of a shine to it. He wondered vaguely if you had changed your shampoo, the other day you’d been complaining about how itchy your normal shampoo made your scalp—
“You still haven’t told her about how you feel?” Yeeun asked quietly, and Jeno’s head snapped back to look at her, eyes wide.
“W-what? Me. Like Y/N…” He laughed nervously, trying to keep his voice down. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding Yeeun’s accusatory stare. “You’re hilarious, Yeeun. Tell another one.”
Yeeun shook her head. “You’d better hurry before someone else snatches her up, Jen. She’s not gonna wait around for you forever.”
 “I don’t like her, Yeeun.” 
“Keep telling yourself that.”
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“Hey! Jeno Lee!”
“Hey! Jaemin Na! What do you want!” Jeno answered as he sat down, mimicking Jaemin’s tone next to him.
“Well, for starters, a million dollars, and second, a date with Yiren Wang, but I doubt you can help me with either of those, so...”
Jeno glanced at the rest of the table. Along with Jaemin, Mark,  Renjun, Donghyuck, and you were watching the interaction between the pair. “Where are the munchkins?” Jeno asked, noticing Chenle and Jisung’s absence. No one could really call them munchkins anymore. That nickname dated back to middle school, before the two underclassmen had gone through growth spurts.
“Eh, they should be here soon,” Renjun said, chewing on a french fry, “How’s your day been?”
“Pretty good so far, I guess. I got AP Calc with Mr. Washington later, though. That man wants me dead.”
You rolled your eyes. “He doesn’t want you dead. I’m telling you, you and Hyuck have been spending way too much time together. You’re being more dramatic than usual and Hyuck’s being more… weird than usual.”
“And just what is so weird about being enthusiastic about senior year, Y/N?” Donghyuck asked, shaking his head, “It’s our last year in this hellhole, I’m excited that we’re finally getting out of here. And besides—”
“Please don’t bring up the fact that you’re abandoning us next year.” Chenle seemingly appeared out of nowhere, sitting next to Renjun, Jisung following quickly behind him.
“Hi, Sungie,” You said with a smile, and Jisung smiled back. “Hi, Y/N.”
“What were you saying, Hyuck?” Jaemin looked at Donghyuck, who had taken the quick interaction as an opportunity to take a bite of his sandwich. His wide eyes darted to the slim boy, cheeks stuffed with chicken. 
“Oh,” He replied after swallowing, “This is gonna be my year. I’m getting male lead for the winter musical and no one is gonna stop me.”
“Do you even know what musical you guys are doing yet?” Mark asked, “What if it’s like… Shrek?”
Jisung made a face. “There’s a Shrek musical?”
Mark nodded, and Renjun laughed.
“I don’t know about male lead, if it’s Shrek. You should try out for Donkey,” The Chinese boy joked, “With those front teeth, you’re a shoo-in.”
The entire table was silent for a moment, before snorts and chortles started pouring out from everyone except Donghyuck.
“Fuck you, Huang.” 
Renjun flashed the friendliest smile he could muster. “Not if you paid me a million dollars.”
The subject remained on extracurriculars, everyone in your group except for Chenle and Jisung now wary of college applications. Donghyuck had been in theater ever since middle school, Renjun was in the robotics club and the debate team with Jaemin, who was also in the student council. Mark was on the math team with Jeno, and you had founded the film club. 
"You're not gonna believe who asked to sign up for film," You huffed, looking kind of confused. The rest of the table looked at you expectantly, and you pursed your lips, almost as if you were trying not to laugh.
"San Choi."
Renjun scoffed. Jaemin raised his eyebrows before letting out a single, humorless laugh. Jeno made a face, poking his plastic fork at you. 
"What is San Choi doing asking to sign up for film?"
"Fuck if I know. He said he needed one more extracurricular if he wanted to get into some college in Florida and he liked going to the movies, so he wanted to try out film."
Mark rolled his eyes. "I swear there's nothing in that guy's head but hot gas. It blows my mind."
"He's a dick," Chenle grumbled, "I'm still not over how he and Wooyoung taped Jisung to the flagpole last year."
Jisung scowled. "I thought we agreed to never bring that up again."
“Do you think they’ll finally calm the fuck down this year?” Jaemin wondered, looking wistful.
You took a sip of your coke and shook your head. “Doubt it. They’re not the hateful eight for a reason.”
The mood at the table turned tense, until Jaemin frowned at his french fries, before sighing and clapping his hands together dramatically. “I would like to hear,” He mused, “About the nuance that theatre gives the cinematic masterpiece that is Shrek when converted into musical form.”
Donghyuck beamed. “Oh, it’s amazing. You see…”
If it was difficult to get Donghyuck to stop talking in general, it was impossible when it was about theater.
The conversation continued on until the bell rang, and the eight of you had to go your separate ways. Jaemin and Jeno had the same class, so they both walked together down a relatively calm hallway. Jaemin looked both ways, before finally lowering his voice. 
“So, you’re going to see Mr. Park today?”
Jeno nodded, looking down at his shoes. “He said he wanted to give me an assignment. Says there’s something big going on.”
Jaemin’s eyes lit up with curiosity. “Did he say what kind of something?” 
Jeno shook his head, pouting slightly. “I’ll let you know tomorrow.” 
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Once school was out, Jeno was getting ready to get onto the subway once again, this time heading towards Midtown. It was only day one and, as Jeno had predicted, Mr. Washington probably was out to get him, because he’d swamped the class with homework.
As he left the school, he spotted you in the parking lot, leaning against your car door, texting someone. He glanced at his phone. He still had plenty of time, he figured. He walked over to you, and when you looked up, you smiled. 
“Hey!” Your voice had that signature tone of enthusiasm to it, and Jeno smiled back immediately. 
“Hello,” He sing-songed. “So, I was thinking… are you free on Friday night?”
You looked somewhere above his head, furrowing your eyebrows before you perked up again and nodded. “Yep! Why?”
“I’m free after nine. Maybe then I could come over to your house? So I can finally get you to stop harassing me about Blade Runner.”
You grinned, pumping your fists enthusiastically. “Hell yes,” You answered, “Do you want me to get like, some frozen pizzas or something?” 
“Pizza sounds good,” He said. “Who are you even waiting for?” 
You made a face that made it seem as if you’d just gotten a whiff of rotten milk. “Well—”
Your response was interrupted when the school doors slammed open, and eight figures poured out, carrying themselves with confidence Jeno both envied and despised. He frowned, trying not to react at their loud whooping and laughing. The Hateful Eight.
“Oh.” Jeno averted his gaze, meeting your eyes again.
“Yeah. If you don’t hear from me later it’s because I jumped out of my truck because I don’t wanna work with—”
“Well, hello, gorgeous!” San’s voice filled the parking lot, and Jeno took a deep breath. Your mouth stretched into a tight-lipped smile at the unwanted ‘compliment’. 
“Hey, San.” Your friendly passive aggressive tone almost made Jeno smile. “I’ve been waiting here for like, fifteen minutes. You could have just given me your number and asked me to send you pictures of my notes, you know.”
He shrugged, turning his body so that his back was turned to Jeno. “Sorry, babe. Coach wanted to talk to us about the upcoming season. When he gets going, it’s hard to get him to stop. And besides, where’s the fun in just asking for pictures when I could come here, talk to you, and take the pictures myself?”
You didn’t respond, but rather pulled out your backpack and began digging through it. When you pulled out your notebook, you handed it to San, who flashed a wink at you. You barely held back a gag. 
“Thanks, Y/N. I’ll just be a minute.” 
He walked over to the hood of your truck, and just as you were about to continue your conversation, two figures slung their arms around both of Jeno’s shoulders, causing him to flinch. 
Out of the fifteen soccer players on the team, San and his best friends—seven of them, to be precise—were the worst. The others were pretty nice. But right now, seeing two of those seven surround your best friend made you uneasy. 
Wooyoung was loud. He was also a temperamental brat. His dad owned three used car dealerships over in Brooklyn, so naturally, he thought he owned the entire world. He wasn’t someone who would get too physical in fights, like San, or Jongho, or Yeosang. But when he was angry, he could easily get you to jump into the stratosphere by yelling at you once. Over the years, he’d made several teaching assistants and substitute teachers cry, only getting let off with a slap on the wrist every time. 
 Yunho was terrifying for completely different reasons. He was friendly, but a little too friendly to the people he wanted to control. He could read people like books and could easily manipulate whoever he wanted. But he wasn’t afraid of getting physical either, especially not when he was built like a goddamn Power Rangers Megazord. 
All in all, they definitely weren't anyone you wanted near you, near your friends. Especially considering how much they had it out for your friends. 
"Hey, buddy," Yunho said, looking down at Jeno with a wide smile. "How was summer vacation?"
Jeno gnawed on the side of his cheek as he considered his answer. "Um, it was okay." He looked at you to catch your eyes darting between San, Yunho and Wooyoung, like you were analyzing the situation. "I kinda stayed in and played video games most of the t—"
"Cool, cool," Yunho answered, carding his free hand through his bleach blond hair. "What about you, Woo?"
"Oh, dude, it was so cool," He bragged, "I went to Brazil for like, a month. I went clubbing with Instagram models and shit, it was wild."
You stared at him as he patted Jeno on the back rather aggressively. "Where did you go? Have you ever even left New York?" 
You knew the answer. Only a few times when the debate team went to compete in different states. Jeno spoke up again. "Well, yeah a few t—"
"Doubt it," Yunho scoffed. He craned his head back. "San, you done yet?"
"Almost!" San answered. Yunho turned to face you, and for some reason his smile seemed genuinely kind. “What about you, Y/N?”
You never understood why it was that the soccer team hated your entire friend group, but seemed to tolerate you. It made no sense.
So you shrugged. “Not a lot, I guess. Did my summer reading. Hung out with my friends.” You flashed a reassuring smile at Jeno. “Right, Jen?”
Immediately, he relaxed a little bit. “Yeah.”
San appeared from behind Yunho, Jeno and Wooyoung. “Thanks, Y/N. I owe you one.”
You waved your hand, wanting them to get rid of them quickly. “Don’t mention it. But next time, just text me for my notes. I have to get to work, so…”
“Oh! My bad,” He answered with fake remorse, before unlocking his phone and handing it over to you. “Here. For next time.”
You stifled a deep sigh, punching in the numbers hesitantly. “Just for homework, got it?”
San took his phone back, holding a hand over his heart and raised his head. “On a gentleman's honor,” He declared, and you bit back a laugh. Jeno looked like he was going to hurl.
“San!” The team captain—Hongjoong—called from a few feet away, “Are you guys done yet or what?”
“Coming!” San yelled back.
“Alright, we’ll let you go,” Wooyoung said, patting Jeno on the back again, a bit too harsh for comfort. “Bye, Y/N! See you around.”
 The three of them stalked off, leaving you and a very frazzled Jeno. “Dicks,” You muttered once they were out of earshot. “You good?”
Jeno shook his head, waving his hand dismissively. “I’ll be fine.”
You tilted your head, frowning. “Jeno—”
“I gotta go,” He said quickly. “I’ll see you later?”
You nodded, offering a lopsided smile. “Yeah. Be careful!” 
Jeno offered a deep bow, fluttering his eyelashes. “On a gentleman’s honor,” He sighed, adding a very bad British accent to it. You burst out laughing, eyes squeezing shut.
You didn’t catch the way Jeno’s shoulders relaxed at the sound.
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I want you to know now
Baby, it could go down
I don’t wanna talk about it
Baby, let’s just go now
The train ride into Midtown didn’t take too long. He spent it digging through his backpack for his Park Industries lanyard, listening to music and thinking about you.
When you talk right to me 
You gon’ have to do me
Every time you think you’re leaving 
You running back to me
You’d met Jeno when you were six. Truth be told, he didn’t really remember. For him it was like you weren’t there at one point and by the time you were, you were thicker than thieves. It was a difficult time for him. He had just lost both of his parents, and was moving in with his Aunt Sunny and his Uncle Jinki, who were barely out of college at the time. He’d had to move to a new school and basically restart his entire life. You were the first sense of stability in his life for months. 
Your mom lived next to his aunt and uncle. So naturally, you went to the same school and went on the same bus. And somewhere along the way, you two clicked. You’d introduced him to Renjun, Jaemin and Donghyuck. You were there to comfort him whenever he got pushed off the slide by San or Wooyoung. 
He was there for you when your stepdad and stepbrother moved in when you were nine and you weren’t sure how to deal with it. He was there when your mom died when you were thirteen. He’d introduced you and your friends to Mark, Chenle and Jisung. 
And you were there when his Uncle Jinki got killed when he was fifteen. And because fate had an especially cruel sense of irony, it had happened on a Tuesday. You didn’t know, but at the time, he had just gotten his powers. Your comfort and words unknowingly had a secondary effect: he made the decision to use them for good, and… well. The rest was history. 
Can we just talk? Can we just talk?
Talk about where we're goin'
Before we get lost, lend me your thoughts
Can't get what we want without knowin'
Just like when he met you, he didn’t recall an exact moment where he realized he’d fallen in love with you. He knew there was a world where he loved you, but wasn’t in love with you. And he knew that there was a world here he’d fallen in love with you—he was living in that world now. He realized he was living in that world maybe when he was sixteen, and had been stuck in it ever since. 
You were it for him. He’d had crushes before. But never something like this, where he was so aware of your presence around him. It wasn’t the way he was hyper aware of someone like San, or like Yunho or Jongho. It wasn’t out of anxiety or fear, where a shift in mood activated his fight or flight. He was aware of you in a way that only people who truly know each other do, where he could pick up on subtle changes in your behavior, but not out of fear. Rather, out of a desire to take care of you and to not have you worry about anything. 
I've never felt like this before
I apologize if I'm movin' too far
Can we just talk? Can we just talk?
Figure out where we're goin'...
As the train rolled into the station that was a fifteen minute walk from Park Tower, Jeno put away his headphones and took a deep breath.
The “Jeno Tingle” as his Aunt Sunny called it—Jeno hated the term—had taken him a few years to gain control of. And while he could never truly turn it off, he could at least tune it out enough to be more at ease. The only time he did so was at school or when he was studying, just because he wanted to feel normal, and because being aware of everything going on around him really messed with his concentration. 
Jaemin didn’t understand. “If I was able to tell whenever Seonghwa was behind me because he wanted to scare me into doing his chemistry homework, I’d never turn that shit off,” He’d said once. But truthfully, Jeno didn’t really care. Because while yes, he was still slightly scared of the “hateful eight”, he knew damn well that if things got to be too much, he could kick their asses if he wanted to. 
It was his friends he worried about. He couldn’t be around them 24/7. You, not so much. He knew you knew how to fight. Even worse, he knew that San had the hots for you so you were off limits to the rest of them, be it bullying or flirting. But for everyone else… Well. He couldn’t hover over them like some guardian angel. 
Now that the “Jeno Tingle” was on, it allowed him to sense everyone within a certain range around him. He could zero in on certain sounds with ease, and his reflexes became heightened. Halfway on his walk up Park Avenue, he jumped away from a chihuahua on its leash a second before it started barking at him.
When he entered the first floor lobby of the Park Building, he scoured the crowd of employees and visitors until he landed on one familiar face. 
He'd met Doyoung about a year after his dad started dating your mom. Things between your parents were starting to get serious, and Doyoung was four years older than you were. When they moved into your house, Doyoung as your new stepbrother became the de facto chaperone and babysitter. If you wanted to go to the mall with Jeno, he had to take you. Every time you dragged Jeno to the movies, Doyoung had to go also. 
To an extent, it wasn't that bad. Doyoung was cool, and he was smart—he was the one who got Jeno interested in computers and chemistry. He graduated high school at 16, and finished his bachelor's degree at 19. He'd also interned at Park Industries, and secured a job there almost immediately after college. 
To an extent, he was the whole reason Mr. Park knew who he was, because of one incident. It was relatively soon after he started the whole vigilante thing. Jeno, still figuring out how to maneuver on the webs that shot out of his wrists, had accidentally crashed into your backyard late at night, when only Doyoung was awake. He was standing in the back door while he was waiting for his dog to finish peeing. 
Initially, the older boy had freaked out, thinking that it was a burglar or something. When he yelled out that his dad was a cop and was asleep in the house, Jeno panicked, and pulled off his mask, holding up his hands.
“Woah, woahwoahwoah! Doyoung! It’s me, it’s me!” 
Doyoung’s eyes had widened to the size of saucers, paying no mind to the dog as it sauntered up to Jeno, before turning onto its back in a request for belly rubs.
"You're the spider guy everyone's been talking about!?"
"Spider man," Jeno had answered, voice cracking as he dusted himself off. He cringed at the sound of his voice. "...and yes."
Of course, his cover was blown, and he'd begged Doyoung not to tell anyone, especially not you. And while Doyoung had promised not to tell you, it didn't stop him from telling his boss. 
That had been almost three years ago now. The rest was history, and after that Jeno didn’t have to run around in bright red sweatpants and dollar store swimming goggles. Now, he had a nanotech suit that allowed him to activate protocols of the suit through voice commands using something top-secret Mr. Park called D.R.E.A.M technology. Direct Response Engaged As Machine—yeah, Jeno didn’t get it either. 
Doyoung offered Jeno a smile as he escorted Jeno past security, showing them his employee clearance pass. "Hey. How have you been?"
Jeno shrugged, recounting his day in minor detail as he was led into an elevator labeled authorized personnel only. 
This elevator only went up to the 35th floor, seeing as everything past that was only cleared for a certain list of people approved by Mr. Park and his security team, and everything past the 90th floor were Mr. Park's private living quarters. 
Now, as Doyoung led him to another elevator to head up to the 85th floor, which was always where Jeno got to meet with Mr. Park—which wasn't often, maybe once or twice a year—he wondered where he would be if he hadn’t surprised Doyoung that night. He would probably still be using those ugly red sweatpants as part of his disguise.
"How's Y/N?" Doyoung asked. 
"Oh, she seems okay. That guy who hates me keeps coming onto her though. He's a huge douchebag."
Doyoung frowned. "He's not harassing her, is he? Because if he is—"
"He just won't stop flirting, even though she clearly isn't interested," Jeno said bitterly, "He isn't physical or anything. Trust me, it wouldn't end well for him if he was."
Doyoung wasn't quite sure how to respond to the younger boy's dark tone. He looked down, clearing his throat awkwardly.
“So… how’s the apartment?” Jeno asked. Doyoung perked up instantly.
“Oh, now that Taeyong’s moved in and did his interior design thing, it looks great. He’s really done a great job at it.”
“When am I gonna meet this guy? He sounds cool.”
“He’s really cool,” Doyoung hummed, cheeks heating up. “Things are getting really serious.”
Jeno smiled at how flustered Doyoung, who was normally so level headed and calm, became at the mention of his boyfriend.
“You guys sound like a really good couple,” He said. Doyoung chuckled, waving his hand. “Oh, well—” 
 The elevator dinged, and Doyoung sighed. “I’ll tell you later. C’mon.”
The hallway it opened up to was lined with pictures of the company's history, starting from pictures of black and white of people in vintage clothing, to pictures in sepia tones to finally pictures of the current CEO at locations around the world: Chanyeol Park.
Jeno walked behind Doyoung as he led him down the hallway, before stopping in front of a door, and a friendly looking man in a suit. 
Junmyeon was a part of Chanyeol’s Security and Intelligence team, and often sat in on these meetings with Jeno. The chain of contact also included him. If Jeno couldn’t contact Doyoung (which rarely happened), he’d contact Junmyeon. And if he couldn’t contact either of them, or it was an emergency, only then could he contact Chanyeol. So far, that had only happened once.
"Hey, Junmyeon," Doyoung said, "Mr. Park's 4:30 is here." 
Junmyeon nodded, before smiling at Jeno and giving him a wave. "Hey, kid."
Jeno offered an awkward grin. "Hi, Mr. Kim."
Junmyeon rolled his eyes sarcastically. "Kid, you're making me feel ancient. I've told you a million times, just call me Junmyeon."
Jeno shuffled awkwardly, before nodding at the older man, watching as he pressed a button on his earpiece. "Hey, Yeol. Jeno's here."
The muffled response was barely heard, but Jeno automatically understood what Mr. Park said. Junmyeon turned to open the door, and let the pair inside. The “office”—if it could even be called that—opened up to more of a lounge, than anything. A wall of glass overlooked the Manhattan skyline, but Jeno knew that from the outside it looked only like a wall, due to camouflage technology developed by Mr. Park himself. As Doyoung and Junmyeon stayed back, closer to the door, Jeno took a few steps toward the man in question.
Chanyeol was standing a few feet in front of the glass window, working on a holographic model of a new piece of tech. His face was turned downward in a concentrated frown. He barely spared the teenager a glance as he said fondly, “Hey, kid.”
Jeno was used to this. Chanyeol wasn’t cold per se, but he wasn’t warm at all. He knew that Chanyeol cared about him, even if he didn’t really show it in a conventional way. Chanyeol was a very… eccentric man, so he had his own way of saying and doing things. 
“Hi, Mr. Park. Um… you wanted to talk to me?”
“Yep! Needed some help from the friendly neighborhood Spiderman… A little birdie told me about something going on in Queens.”
“Queens?” Jeno asked, gripping the straps of his backpack. “You mean, other than the usual stuff?”
“Other than the usual stuff,” Chanyeol repeated, nodding. With a wave of his hand, the hologram disappeared, and another one appeared in its place. This time, instead of a 3D model, a few pictures and another, smaller 3D model appeared. Chanyeol turned to face him, frown deepening. He pointed at the model—a long, shiny oval-shaped purple stone. It reminded Jeno of an amethyst, but instead of turning white at the base, it turned to an iridescent jade tone. “You know what this is, right?”
Jeno nodded, remembering seeing the rocks all over the news when he was a kid. “That’s… that’s a Chitauri stone. From the invasion a few years back.”
Chanyeol nodded, standing up straight. “These stones have the potential to power weapons with no need to recharge, or change them out. They’re an infinite, extremely strong power source, Jeno, and in the wrong hands can be very dangerous.”
Jeno took a deep breath, feeling his stomach sink slowly. Chanyeol sighed. “Cleanup of the city after the invasion was long, and difficult, and obviously the government and the company weren’t able to get everything. It caused a black market to pop up. Now, the NYPD has been investigating it for years, but they have their limits… that’s where you come in.”
“M-me, Mr. Park?”
Chanyeol gave him a crooked, reassuring smile. He pointed at one of the pictures, which was of a man who most likely didn’t know he was photographed. He was walking somewhere, face looking angry and stern.
“You don’t know who this is, right?”
Jeno shook his head, and Chanyeol turned his head to nod at Junmyeon. “You’re up, tough guy.”
Junmyeon huffed, before walking up to Jeno. He put his hand on Jeno’s shoulder as if he could tell that he was growing anxious. 
“Jeno, that’s Henry Duke. From what we understand on the intel team, he’s one of the cornerstones of the alien tech black market. He’s one of the top dogs. From what we understand, he likes to be present for all major negotiations that his group makes. A source of ours told us that there’s going to be a negotiation on Friday night not too far away from LaGuardia. We want you to go out there and just get a feel of what’s going on.”
“Just watch them, right?” Jeno looked at Junmyeon, who patted his back reassuringly. “Just watch. Don’t engage unless you absolutely have to.”
“You can do that, right?” Chanyeol said quietly, crossing his arms. “Because if not, then it’s totally—”
“Yeah, of course I can! Friday—shit, Friday. At what time are they supposed to be meeting up?”
Junmyeon furrowed his eyebrows, before answering, “Around eight or nine.”
Jeno bit his lip, thinking about the promise he’d made to you. It would just have to wait, he supposed. Chanyeol rarely asked anything this big of him.
“Alright,” Jeno agreed, “I’ll do it.”
Chanyeol grinned, clapping his hands together. 
“Perfect.” 
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They discussed logistics briefly after. Doyoung would be on call with Jeno, his custom made suit allowing them to communicate, letting Doyoung see everything Jeno was seeing via a video feed coming from the ultra thin lenses placed in the white eye sockets of the mask. Doyoung would then report to Junmyeon, who would report to Chanyeol, who would probably report to the FBI. Jeno was only to engage if absolutely necessary.
After that, he set out on patrol. He usually found some discreet place to hide his backpack, and then went all over Queens looking for trouble, quite literally. Around five thirty, he stopped a robbery in Murray Hill. Then, around seven, he stopped a man from stealing a woman’s purse in Elmhurst. Nothing too much.
Around eight, he finally headed home, this time dressed normally, using the train and not web fluid. He walked home, tired, knowing that he’d immediately have to do that cursed AP calc homework. When he got home, he opened his backpack pocket to look for his keys, rummaging between his notebooks and other things. 
Shuffling through his stuff, he furrowed his eyebrows as he couldn’t find them. Thinking back, he remembered this morning, when he’d left in a rush… and had very obviously left his keys on his desk.
“Shit,” He muttered to himself. He rubbed his eyes tiredly, remembering that Aunt Sunny had said she’d be working overtime tonight. He could very easily sneak in through his window, but he was pretty sure he’d locked it the night before, and it was too early. People’s lights were still on—anyone could see him if they just looked up, and then he would be screwed. 
Huffing and zipping his backpack up, he marched up to your house, before ringing the doorbell. He shifted his weight back and forth, from his heels to the balls of his feet, until the door opened up. A familiar man with a face just like Doyoung's, but older, with graying hair and arms scarred and muscled from years of working on the police force stood in the doorway.
“Jeno?” Your dad offered him a warm smile. “Hey, kiddo, what’s up?”
“Hi, Mr. Kim,” Jeno said, smiling back. He shifted nervously. “I, um… I left my keys in my room this morning, and my aunt’s working late, so… could I… maybe wait here? Y/N’s home, right?” 
The man nodded. “Of course, of course. Come in!” 
Your dad had always been super friendly, even from the day Jeno had first met him. You'd told Jeno once that he was the only real father figure you'd ever had. Once everything settled after him and your mom got married, you started calling him dad altogether. And since you and Jeno were practically glued at the hip, he got along with your dad almost as well as you did.
“Okay.” Jeno stepped in and set down his backpack at the base of the coat rack next to the door, as he’d done a million times before. Jeno stepped into the living room, and sat down on the couch. He folded his hands in his lap and looked up at your dad.
"I think Y/N's in the shower, but she should be done soon. You can just wait here if you want… have you eaten anything yet?”
“Uh, I had a granola bar on the train, but that’s it.”
“We have some leftover pasta here, if you want—”
“Thanks, Mr. Kim, really! I’m fine.”
Your dad nodded, sitting down on his recliner. “So, have you started your college list, yet? Y/N said you wanted to stay here in New York.”
Jeno nodded, pushing some hair out of his face. “Well, yeah. It would make things a lot easier, I think. I might want to apply to NYU, but I think I’ll just go to community college, or something.”
Your dad shook his head. “You’re a pretty smart kid, Jeno. I think you could get into Columbia if you set out to. Plus, Chanyeol Park doesn’t give out internships to anybody. That’s your secret weapon.”
Jeno smiled. “Well, you’ve got a point.” 
Your dad gave him a friendly punch on the shoulder. “Come on, trying won’t hurt!” Your dad made a face, and then rubbed his knuckles. “Have you been working out? Those muscles weren’t there the last time I did that.”
Jeno laughed, trying to think of an excuse. “Oh, a little bit? The house needed some fixing up over the summer, and I wanted to help Aunt Sunny, so…”
“Jeno?” 
He turned immediately, eyes landing on you at the base of the staircase. You’d changed into an old t-shirt and pajama pants. Your hair was slightly damp. “What are you doing here?” You asked, with a curious smile.
His shoulders slumped, and he grinned sheepishly. “Terrible Tuesday strikes again. I forgot my keys.”
You grimaced. “Brutal, dude. You wanna come up?” Your eyes moved to your dad. “Or am I interrupting guy time?”
“Oh, definitely,” Jeno answered, playing along. He took a cocky tone as he rested his hands on the back of his neck. “Your dad was just telling me about how much the NYPD needs me.” 
You stifled a laugh. You dad seemed to be holding back a laugh too. "Hey, you're joking, but if you keep working out like that, and if by some impossible chance, the college thing doesn't work out… We might just be able to catch Spiderman if we finally got some brain cells on the force."
"Ugh, dad," You groaned, unaware of Jeno's gut twisting, "Not again."
"Yeah, Mr. Kim," Jeno said, scratching the back of his head, "He's not that bad."
Your dad shook his head. "Look, I don't hate the guy. In all honesty, crime rates have dropped since he started doing his thing. But he thinks he's above the law, and his methods can be a bit… unorthodox sometimes. He’s been undermining us for years and his tech is state of the art. Makes me wonder about what we should do to modernize the force."
Jeno looked downward, wondering what would happen if your dad knew the truth.
"Well, I guess we may just never find out. Jeno'd make a horrible cop. He couldn't hurt a fly if you paid him a million dollars."
But you came to the rescue as you grabbed his backpack, and soon enough he was up the stairs with you, heading into your bedroom, laughing to yourselves when you heard your dad jokingly call out, "Fifteen inch distance, you two! Door stays open!"
He sat on your desk chair while you lay on your bed, limbs splaying out. 
"So you left your keys."
Jeno groaned. "Don't remind me. I was in such a rush to leave, that I… I forgot. I'm so stupid."
You rolled your eyes, rolling over onto your stomach to look at him. "You're not stupid, Jen. You made an honest mistake because you were in a hurry." 
Standing up, you walked over to him and leaned against the desk. "Seriously, Jeno. What's gotten into you, lately? You freak out about every little thing. It's starting to worry me." 
Jeno shook his head. "I don't know," He admitted. "I think I'm just scared about how after this year, everything changes. Renjun’s headed upstate. Jaemin’s going to Boston. You want to go to LA. I think Hyuck and I are the only ones who want to stay here. I just… I don't want things to change." 
Your expression turned sad as he continued. "Everyone is expecting great things from me. You're smart, Jeno. You can get into an Ivy. Or, you have a Park internship, you'll be fine. What if I don't want things to be fine? What if I want them to just stay the same?"
You stayed silent for a few moments, trying to think of what to say. Jeno was relatively level headed for someone your age, but even he had moments of doubt and panic. It made moments like these difficult.  You sighed before grabbing him by the hand. Wordlessly, you tugged him over to the bed, sitting him down and leaning your head on his shoulder. He could feel the dampness in your hair seeping slowly into his shirt.
"I guess I understand what you mean," You mumbled, trying to reason with him, "But come on. You wouldn't really want everything to stay the same. You can't tell me you want to keep getting AP calc homework. And I definitely doubt that you'd want to have your ass kicked by San for the rest of your life."
Jeno looked at the floor. "You're right. But you know that's not what I mean—"
"I know," You huffed, "I'm just saying. Change… it's inevitable. The longer you fight it, the harder it is."
Jeno nodded. "This sucks."
"It does," You agreed, taking his hand in yours. "But at least we have each other's backs, y'know?"
Something of a smile appeared on his face. You were so close to him, leaning on him, stroking his knuckles with your thumb. He hoped you couldn't hear his heart pounding in his chest. 
"We really do, huh?" His voice turned quiet, with a bit of a sleepy lull to it. He allowed his head to rest on yours. "You're so comfortable. Can I like, use you as a pillow for the rest of my life?"
You giggled. "I'll consider it on two conditions."
"Oh, you'll consider. How generous of you."
"Yes, I'll consider. Now, do you wanna hear my terms or not?" 
Jeno raised an eyebrow. "Go ahead," He said, before putting on his best Marlon Brando voice, "Make me an offer I can't refuse."
Snorting, you lifted your head off of his. "Okay. One, you finish your calculus homework here before Sunny gets home."
He pursed his lips. "Okay, I could probably do that. What's the other one?"
"Let me drive you to school for the rest of the year." 
Jeno stared at you, and you nodded, eyes wide. "Trust me, Jen. You wouldn't need to wake up so early! And plus, you can't text the guy manning the subway asking him to give you five minutes because you need to find your keys."
Jeno gnawed on the inside of his cheek. You did have a point, and to be honest, he could probably refrain from putting his feet up on your dashboard.
"Deal." 
You grinned. "Awesome," You answered, before nodding towards his backpack. "Now get to work, Einstein."
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The rest of the week wasn't that bad. Yes, you were absolutely batshit insane about your truck in the morning, but he soon realized he didn't really mind. Not when it allowed you both to spend some twenty extra minutes together in the mornings, and they were spent joking around and listening to your extremely varied playlist. 
On the other hand, he was saddled with more and more homework, greater and greater expectations. The looming threat of Friday's mission rolled around, and it made Jeno feel like time was passing much too slowly but also way too quickly. There was so much on his mind. He had chemistry with you on Thursdays in the afternoon, which also meant that San was there. Which also meant that sometimes, his heightened senses would pick up on San dropping a tacky pick up line which made Jeno want to punch him in the jaw.
Finally, finally, Friday afternoon rolled around. As he bid you goodbye and promised to see you later, he tried to ignore the feeling in his stomach. The feeling that something was about to go very, very wrong. He went out on patrol, ready for Doyoung to set up the call and tell him where he needed to go. It didn’t help that there wasn’t a lot for him to do that day. Crime had seemed to slow down altogether. 
When the time finally came, and the sun was beginning to set, Doyoung rang in at about 7, telling him the location. An old warehouse near LaGuardia airport, hidden from prying eyes. Jeno made his way to the place, avoiding security cameras Doyoung warned him about, and found a place to hide. There was a hole in the warehouse roof, which allowed him to peer right into the building without being seen. It was about thirty feet from the ground.
“Why is it always old, abandoned warehouses?” Jeno grumbled. He heard Doyoung laugh quietly. 
“Beats me,” Doyoung sighed. 
And so they waited. Jeno wondered vaguely if you were still working. He wasn’t sure. They made time talking quietly, until a black SUV rolled into the warehouse. “Woah, Doyoung,” He murmured, “Hold up.”
Jeno leaned forward, but quickly realized he probably wouldn’t be able to hear what was being said. “D.R.E.A.M, activate Heightened Intelligence Protocol.”
Activating Heightened Intelligence Protocol.
The protocol allowed Jeno to use the lenses over his eyes to zoom in on specific targets, as well as use a microphone embedded in the suit to pick up audio from far away and feed it directly into his ears.
He watched as three figures got out of the car, a fourth remaining in the driver’s seat. The trio stood in front of the car, and Jeno recognized the man in the middle as the man Junmyeon had been talking about.
“Alright, there’s Henry Duke,” He said, “The one in the middle.”
 “Got it,” Doyoung replied, sounding satisfied. “Now all we have to do is wait for the other party.”
“Did Junmyeon’s sources say anything about who it would be?”
“No. They weren’t able to find that out. Guess we’ll just have to wait and see.”
Jeno’s eyes never left the man. “Do you think it’s something international?”
Doyoung sighed. “I’m not sure. If it is international, then you need to be even more careful.”
“Got it. I think—Wait, here they come.” 
A second vehicle, this one another black SUV, rolled up not too far away from the first car. The lights turned off and the engine sputtered to a stop, and four men stepped out of the vehicle.
Jeno’s stomach dropped, and of its own accord, his mouth let loose a quiet, “What the fuck,” as he registered the person leading them. 
“What?” Doyoung asked, before realizing what—who—he was looking at. “...Is that my dad?”
“I think it is,” Jeno whispered, fingertips suddenly numb. Who was he kidding? They both knew who it was. 
“So,” One of the men next to your dad said, “You show us yours, we’ll show you ours?”
Henry Duke clapped his hands together with an impish grin. “I suppose. Reagan, get the case.”
One of the two men standing beside him started off toward the trunk of the car. “It caught me off guard when I heard that the force wanted to purchase these. Almost made me wonder if this was your attempt at a sting operation.”
“What made you change your mind?” Your dad asked. Jeno swallowed at how cold he sounded. This wasn’t your dad, and it didn’t seem like Officer Kim either. This was someone Jeno had never met before. 
“Honestly, Kim?” Duke raised an eyebrow, shrugging. “It was you. Your cooperativeness and willing to feed us information, as well as your… insurance agreement. And besides, you made a very interesting point when you said that the Avengers Initiative and Park’s alum Spiderman is ruining the way the law operates around here. That type of bitterness… hard to fake.”
Your dad huffed. “We’re fucking tired of it.”
The man leaning against the car your dad had stepped out of scoffed. “If this helps us catch the little asshole, then so be it.”
Jeno frowned. “I’m not little—”
“Jeno, shut up!” Doyoung snapped. 
“—Alright, then.” The man holding the briefcase—Reagan—clicked it open, as if it were a prize reveal on The Price is Right. Five guns, all modified to hold glowing Chitauri stones were placed carefully together side by side.
“You know the basics. No radiation. Keep it away from security scanners and x-rays. They will blow up. And second of all, these are at half the price, along with the promise from the chief of police that my business won’t be touched, and will only be distributed to officers in on the operation and have agreed to turn off their body cameras when they decide to use these weapons. Should this not be a sting operation, we’ll be back here to negotiate.”
Jeno leaned forward, watching anxiously.
“Yes, sir,” Your dad answered, nodding. “We have the money here.”
“Hand it over, then.”
That was when Jeno made his mistake. He leaned forward too much, and proceeded to fall right through the hole, bringing down some scraps of the roof with him. As he tumbled through the air, the zoom on his lenses caused him to grow dizzy as he had no idea what he was looking at. He caught himself before he could fall, clumsily commanding D.R.E.A.M to go back to turn off the current protocol. His vision returned to normal, and he swung up onto a rafter holding the warehouse up.
“So, we have company.” Duke didn’t sound as amused as he had before. His face turned into a sneer. “Get him.”
In less than a second, before Jeno could say anything, five guns were pointed directly at him. He managed to swing away before any bullets could hit him. 
“Jeno, get out of there now,” Doyoung ordered. 
“What about the guns?” Jeno asked, swinging to another rafter. “They know I’m here, I might as well get them before I go—”
“No! Jeno, listen to what I’m telling you. You’ve done more than enough, and you need to let it g—”
Your dad aimed, and a bullet fired right at Jeno’s chest. For a second, he forgot that the chest area of the suit was lined with bulletproof material. While it didn’t shoot into his chest, it ricocheted right off him, and since he was in motion, it somehow caused the bullet to bounce back in the direction in which it came. 
The wind was knocked out of Jeno, but it was nothing compared to watching the bullet land in the middle of your father’s chest. On the other line, he heard Doyoung yell, followed by the sound of something falling. And then, as he made his way back towards the hole he’d fallen out of, he couldn’t rip his eyes away from the body as it crumpled to the ground. 
The others around him scrambled to get back into their respective cars. Jeno was back on the roof now, trying not to hyperventilate. “I’m sorry,” He gasped, “Do—Doyoung, I-I’m sorry, I didn’t want to—”
“Jeno, you need to get out of there, now,” Doyoung said, voice raspy. “GO!” 
So he did, and Doyoung cut off the call once he was out of the vicinity. Jeno didn’t blame him. He swung across buildings, feeling numb as he looked for the apartment complex roof where he’d decided to hide his backpack.
When he finally did, he changed in a hurry, before slumping against the wall and forcing himself to take deep breaths. 
Doyoung’s dad—your dad—was dead. And it was all his fault. 
He cried on the way down the staircase. He cried on his way to the subway. The entire time, he ignored people’s stares. Suddenly everything was too loud, and if he met someone in the eyes he’d just about break down in the middle of the station. 
As he got onto the train, Jeno thought about all of the things your dad had done for you, and for Jeno. All the times he'd taken you both to Coney Island in the summer when you were younger. The year Pokemon Go came out he took the both of you driving around in his car so you and Jeno could catch as many Pokemon as you could. 
He’d formally adopted you when you were thirteen. You were his daughter in nearly every sense of the word, regardless of blood. And now he was dead, because of a stupid mistake that Jeno had made.
What would you say if you knew? He didn’t want to know. Checking the time on his phone, he saw he’d gotten a message from you just three minutes ago.
[8:36 PM]
y/n: lemme know when ur outside!! :)
“Fuck,” He murmured, wiping his eyes. He knew he needed to stop crying before he got to your house, and he had about ten minutes before he got to his stop, and then another five minute walk to the neighborhood. He focused on taking deep breaths and taking long swigs from his water bottle in the meantime, trying to tune out the sound of other people talking and the sound of the train on the rails.
The walk was the longest five minute walk he’d ever taken. The flashing lights of convenience stores did nothing to calm him down. As the stores in his peripheral vision began transitioning into suburban homes, he felt his heart speed up again. The constant movement as he walked meant he missed his phone vibrating in his backpack as you rang his number.
After what seemed like an eternity, two familiar houses came into his line of vision, and his shoulders slumped as he spotted you on your porch, looking small and teary, curled up into a little ball. In one hand, you were clutching your phone.
His stomach twisted as he put on a confused tone, even though he knew damn well that you knew. “...Y/N?”
You stood up, running to him and burying yourself into his chest, crumpling into his arms. You would have fell over if Jeno hadn’t held both of you up. 
“Jeno,” You sobbed, “You’re n-not go-onna believe it.”
He brought a hand up to caress your hair, holding back tears of his own as he asked a question he already knew the answer to.
“Y/N, what happened?”
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taglist: @decembermoonskz @itsapapisongo @lenaluvs​ @crescentjen​
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alittlebitmaybe · 3 years
Text
tying you to me
For @sugar-and-spice-witcher-bingo
Prompt: crafting
Pairing: Geraskier, implied Geralt/Yen in one line
Rating: T for language
Warnings: None
Summary:
As they lay in bed, Jaskier snuggled and breathing humid against his chest hair, Geralt remembers the pattern from Novigrad. A sweater with stretchy ribbing around the wrists and bottom hemline, a high collar. Intricate cabling criss-crossing up the front, making the fabric thick and sturdy. The scroll is stuffed into one of his saddlebags where he’d put it after purchase when he’d cursed himself for wasting the coin.
Jaskier snuffles closer, his grip tightening around Geralt’s waist as he soaks the added warmth through his skin, and Geralt has an idea.
Or: Geralt doesn't know about the boyfriend sweater curse.
Read more on AO3 or below the cut!
Geralt learned to knit out of necessity. Winters in Kaedwen, especially up in the mountains, are bitter cold, and require not only animal skins but woolen socks, hats, scarves, blankets. They keep a flock of sheep for the very purpose. And before—when there were others, even occasionally a proper staff—it would be part of the normal workings of the castle to have several sets of hands dedicated to knitting up useful garments to keep them from freezing their balls off when the frost came.
There are fewer hands now, but also fewer balls in danger of freezing. Geralt and Vesemir handle the bulk of it, these days—Eskel with fingers too big and clumsy to be much help, Lambert too fidgety and quick to rip out all his progress into a tangled mess of wool in a fit of frustration. In the evenings they sit by the great hall fire in mostly silence and take turns spinning the roving into yarn, winding skeins, chipping away at the endless miles of plain stocking stitch, and seaming panels together. (Sometimes Geralt will embellish the design with cables, or a moss stitch—unconventional patterns he’s started to see in the larger cities, sold by the fancier merchants. He may have paid a few crowns for the scroll describing the pattern for one particular sweater he saw in a shop in Novigrad. He has not mentioned this to Vesemir.)
It may be necessity, but Geralt would choose it even if it wasn’t. These are the things his hands are good for: wielding a sword; harvesting various glands and organs; curling into fists; crushing windpipes; skinning rabbits. Bandaging Ciri’s scrapes. Bringing Yen’s pleasure. Curling around the back of Jaskier’s neck, drawing their lips together. And, when it’s over, when there’s nothing to kill and no one to care for, he can create. He can put it all to the side and count off to himself, knit-purl, knit-purl, knit-purl, knit, knit, knit, around and around, back and forth, and this thing will grow from the rhythm of his fingers, from the steady loop and pull that he’s done thousands of times, taught by some witcher instructor decades ago whose name he no longer recalls. He had bushy eyebrows that waggled as he worked. That’s all the memory that’s left of him.
Anyway, it’s easy to allow the hours to pass until Vesemir excuses himself to bed and the fire burns down and takes the light with it. One such night, just as Geralt is squinting at his work to finish this one last row, the hall door creaks open.
“Geralt,” Jaskier says sleepily, “are you still in here? ‘S late, love.”
Knit, knit, knit. “Mm,” says Geralt. “I’m here. Just finishing up.”
“I’ll wait for you, then.” Jaskier pads in his sockfeet across the stone to the armchair Geralt occupies. He sits himself on the rug with his back against Geralt’s legs, knees pulled up to his chest. “Brr. ‘S chilly, too.”
Geralt drops the needle in his right hand, maintaining tension on the working yarn with his left. He runs his free hand through Jaskier’s bed-mussed hair, brushes against his cold ear, down to the soft skin behind it. “Not wearing a coat.”
“Well I wasn’t heading outside, seemed like a—” He yawns, jaw cracking. “—a lot of trouble just to come downstairs. But I now see my mistake.”
“Always have to wear a coat at night,” Geralt says. “Or be under blankets. Or both.”
“Or acquire a personal witcher furnace, unless he’s down here ‘til gods know what hour making yet more mittens for the princess.”
Geralt looks down at the large rectangle he’s been working on. “Lap blanket,” he says. For Ciri, when she’s studying in the library. It gets drafty in there even with the fire blazing.
“For the library?” says Jaskier, tipping his head back to see Geralt. “Good thinking. She’ll love it.”
Geralt releases him and goes back to his work, but knits at most ten stitches before Jaskier shivers again, his teeth chattering before he gets himself under control. Setting the blanket aside, middle of the row be damned, he concedes, “Let’s go back to bed.”
“No, you’re—you’re not done with—” Jaskier cannot finish his sentence for the yawn that overtakes him. “M’kay. Let’s go.”
As they lay in bed, Jaskier snuggled and breathing humid against his chest hair, Geralt remembers the pattern from Novigrad. A sweater with stretchy ribbing around the wrists and bottom hemline, a high collar. Intricate cabling criss-crossing up the front, making the fabric thick and sturdy. The scroll is stuffed into one of his saddlebags where he’d put it after purchase when he’d cursed himself for wasting the coin.
Jaskier snuffles closer, his grip tightening around Geralt’s waist as he soaks the added warmth through his skin, and Geralt has an idea.
*
The next evening, after dinner has been consumed and cleaned up, Vesemir and Geralt move to the fire as usual. Vesemir is working up a new hat for Lambert, who has the shortest hair among them and has one practically pasted to his head all winter long.
Geralt spares a glance to his blanket-in-progress, and then veers toward the wooden chest that stores their yarn stash. He puts aside plain ball after plain ball, until finally he admits defeat and turns to Vesemir and asks, “Do we have any dye?”
“No,” says Vesemir, not looking up. He knits with the yarn looped around the back of his neck to keep the tension, instead of around his fingers. He says it’s easier on his old joints. Geralt thinks it looks preposterous, but it gets the job done. “Not a drop. And that’s never bothered you before.”
“I’m thinking of making a gift,” says Geralt. “I think they’d prefer it to be dyed.”
“Ah, the bard. Yes. I suppose he would.”
“I want him to actually wear it.”
“Indeed.”
“He says coats are too bulky and ponderous, and they dampen his spirits.”
“Foolish boy. He’ll learn.”
“So we have no dye? Of any color?”
“None,” says Vesemir. “Though it may be that there are some old skeins in the back of the cupboard by the linens. I recall that some of our forebears had rather expensive taste, for witchers. Quite wasteful of them. If you ask me.”
Geralt murmurs his thanks, pulls on a cloak, and makes his way through the frozen corridors to the cabinet in the laundry. Along the way he passes the study, and overhears Eskel dominating Jaskier in another round of Gwent.
“Eskel, you dirty cheating bastard, there is no way you just had that card.”
“Where d’you think I kept it, bard?”
“Up your sleeve, behind your ear, under the table, I dunno—”
“Down your pants,” Lambert chimes in, and Geralt hears Ciri giggle. She’s been spending too much time with the witchers now that Yen has departed for the season. Geralt should probably intervene more often.
“—maybe you magicked me with a sign thingy so I wouldn’t notice, but I’m sure you didn’t have it in hand a turn ago, I’ll swear that on—”
“Yes, Lambert, I’ve got Gwent cards lining my codpiece, naturally, even a few stuffed between my—”
Geralt rounds the corner and their voices fade away.
As Vesemir said, there is a small box pushed all the way to the back of the cupboard in amongst the linens. He opens it without much hope, but is surprised to find it full to the brim with yarn of deep reds and blues, all of some soft texture very unlike the itchy wool they’re accustomed to. Sniffing it, he decides it is from some type of goat. He also decides, based on its lack of musty odor, that it is not nearly old enough to have belonged to one of their forebears.
Well, in exchange for the use of the yarn, he’ll allow Vesemir his secret.
He carries the whole lot back to the great hall.
“You found it,” Vesemir remarks, now nearly done with the hat.
“Right where you said,” says Geralt. “You don’t mind if I use it?”
“As much as you like,” he replies disinterestedly, “if you’ll leave me the fuck alone while you do.”
Fair enough.
Geralt selects the red—a deep burgundy that will pair with the blush on Jaskier’s cheeks after a few glasses of wine. He pulls the scroll from his trouser pocket, and begins casting on as the pattern instructs.
*
When he hears Jaskier’s tread in the hall, he hastily pulls the half-finished lap blanket over his new project.
“Bedtime, Witcher,” says Jaskier, peering over his shoulder. “Didn’t make much progress on that tonight, did you?”
“It’s a big blanket,” Geralt grunts. “Eskel’s been practicing sleight of hand since we were boys. Don’t play him for money.”
“I bloody knew it,” Jaskier exclaims. He wheels around and stomps back out of the hall, suitably distracted. “Eskel! You’ll never believe what Geralt’s just told me!”
*
The sweater is slow going, since he does have to put real work into the blanket every once in a while to keep Jaskier’s suspicions to heel.
Over the next few weeks, it becomes near an open secret in the keep what Geralt is up to. Lambert catches him cursing late one evening as he is ripping back several rows to fix a cable he’d mistakenly crossed the wrong way.
“Whazzat,” Lambert says, crunching on a mouthful of tree nuts.
“Fuck off,” Geralt says. He squints and carefully tries to secure a dropped loop back on the needle. If it ladders down, he’s done for—there’ll be no fixing it while maintaining the pattern. He’s not nearly good enough for that.
“Looks like you’re fucking it up,” Lambert chews.
“I am. That’s why I told you to fuck off.”
“Thought that’s just how you decided to greet me now. That’s what Vesemir does.” He shoves another fistful of nuts into his mouth, though Geralt isn’t sure he’s swallowed the first.
“It’s not a bad idea.”
He manages to pick up that last loop before disaster strikes, and moves the stitches around on the needles to make sure they all look right. Then he shoves the left-hand stitches all the way up to the tip so he can continue.
Lambert leans down to examine the fabric, then runs his finger down the pattern with his eyebrow raised. “This is some fancy shit, Geralt, you giant poof.”
“It’s not for me,” he says.
Lambert swallows, belches, and says, “My point exactly. ‘S for Jaskier, innit.”
Geralt doesn’t bother answering as he approaches the cable he’d made a mess of the first time around. Lambert claps him on the shoulder with the hand he’s been using as a nut-to-mouth delivery tool, which leaves salt behind on his tunic.
“That’s okay. Your secret’s safe with me.”
“Thanks,” says Geralt wryly.
“Anyway, I’m outta here. This boring bullshit still gives me hives.”
He exits the hall and the door shuts heavily behind him. Geralt finishes recrossing the cable and, turning to check his pattern, finds it covered in greasy fingerprints.
Eskel, on the other hand, sits himself in Vesemir’s usual seat one night and sets to quietly whittling a whistle. After several hours, Geralt holds up the near completed front panel of his sweater and says, “Do you think Jaskier will like this?”
Eskel doesn’t even look at it. “Geralt, you could spit on a log and hand it to him and Jaskier would love it.” His knife stills. “Maybe don’t do that, though.”
To their credit, none of the other witchers say a word—possibly for lack of caring—and Geralt is able to rely on them to keep Jaskier occupied most nights while he finishes the front and back panels and seams them up.
Before he begins work on the sleeves, the pattern warns, the wearer should try on the body to ensure proper fit.
“Well, shit,” he says aloud. He can’t ask Jaskier to try it on and ruin the surprise. He holds it up against himself, trying to judge if they are similar enough size to judge whether it will fit Jaskier. Geralt, certainly, is wider in the chest and shoulders, but as long as he can get it on without stretching it too much he should be able to check the length. And, if it fits Geralt or is loose, it will certainly be too large on Jaskier.
It will have to do.
The next morning he rises early and takes the sack in which he’s been storing his project to Ciri’s bedroom. He knocks softly.
“Ciri?” he calls, mouth close to the door. “Can I use your mirror for a moment?”
“Mnnngh,” he hears. He takes this as an invitation.
The only visible part of her, when he lets himself in, is a tangle of hair escaping from under the pile of furs on the bed. He sets his sack delicately in front of the only full-length mirror in the keep and says, “Morning, Princess.”
“F’ off,” the fur pile groans. “No it’s not.”
“You really have been spending too much time with Lambert,” Geralt comments mildly as he pulls the unfinished sweater out and checks it for damage in transport, though he knows it was safe in the bag and only traveled up some stairs. “He’s a bad influence.”
“I’ve always been like this when rudely awakened at the crack of dawn,” Ciri says, muffled. “Don’t think any of you are special.”
“You cursed at the royal servants?”
“Quite regularly.”
Geralt shrugs the layers off his top half down to his undershirt while she continues to stretch and grumble wordlessly in the warmth of her bed. He pulls the sweater over his head; the neckline snags on his ears but otherwise he should be okay to try to get his arms in. He squeezes his right arm in and up, aiming for the proper hole—
“Geralt,” Ciri says icily, “what, by the gods, is that?”
He turns around, contorted in the confines of the too-tight sweater. She’s sitting up with her hair a wild tangle and her eyes wide in horror. “What’s what?”
“That garment!”
“It’s…a sweater? I’m making it.”
Geralt thinks he may be missing something very important.
“For yourself?”
“…No, for Jaskier. He needs another—”
“Don’t you care about the curse?”
Geralt finishes fitting himself into the sweater and tugs it down over his stomach while Ciri continues to stare at him in expectant horror. Thus no longer trapped, he decides to engage. “The what?”
Ciri slumps forward, briefly puts her face in her hands. “Good gods, Geralt, you really can’t be helped. But I also cannot allow you to give Jaskier a handmade sweater. Despite your…personal challenges”—at this, Geralt tilts his head and opens his mouth to ask exactly what the hell that means, but she barrels on—“I really have become fond of the two of you, so I cannot let you carry on with this foolish nonsense.”
Her voice goes more posh the longer speaks. Geralt thinks she will make a fine queen someday. “Ciri, I—”
“And really,” she continues, “it’s like you’re trying to sabotage a good thing. He does nothing but care for you, and this is how you repay him? Honestly. Melitele’s tits!”
“Melitele’s—? Where did you learn that one?”
“I’m hardly sheltered. And you’re one to talk, caring about my language when you’re about to lose Jaskier for good!”
“For good? Lose Jask—okay, Ciri.” He sits down at the foot of her bed, probably looking downright silly confined to a sleeveless sweater that is at least one size too small for him. He can feel it constricting the rise and fall of his chest and stretching tight in his armpits. “Look, I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about. What curse?”
The expression she aims at him is sharper than at least four of the blades in the armory. “The sweater curse, Geralt. If one makes a sweater for a person one is interested in romantically, that person leaves within a fortnight. Everyone knows this.”
“Oh, of course. How stupid of me,” Geralt says.
Ciri raises an eyebrow that says Yes, obviously.
“So you’re telling me that if I finish this sweater and give it to Jaskier, he will suddenly no longer be able to stand the sight of me and will stomp off on down the mountain, even with the good foot of snow and ice blocking the path.”
She sniffs. “Indubitably.”
“Hmm,” says Geralt. “I think I’ll take my chances.” He claps his hands on his knees as he stands and moves back to the mirror to inspect the sizing more closely. The armholes are definitely a bit small—he’ll have to let out the seam to increase the circumference—but the rest, if he tries to overlay Jaskier’s body onto his own, seems like it should be about right.
Ciri leaves the bed with a fur wrapped around her as a cape and comes to his side. “You’re impossible,” she declares, though the royal snootiness is diminished somewhat by her morning breath and tangled hair. Then she reaches out and touches the textured pattern between the cable running up the front. “Though, you know, it is quite beautiful, if horribly misguided.”
He grins indulgently at her. “Thank you, Princess.”
*
“Have you heard of the sweater curse?”
Vesemir snorts. “Poppycock. Who told you about that old superstition?”
“Just came across it.”
With a long-suffering sigh, Vesemir looks at Geralt over his spectacles. “I hope that it’s not bothering you.”
“No,” says Geralt. “Of course not.”
*
He has fuck-all in his hand of cards, but he stares down at them like they might contain the secrets of the Continent.
“It’s your turn, Geralt,” Eskel says.
“I know,” he replies, absently rearranging the cards.
“So…you gonna play or pass?” Lambert asks. He digs his hand into the bowl of nuts at his elbow.
“Not sure.”
“Is something on your mind?” Eskel, again.
“No. Well…do either of you believe in the sweater curse?”
They both look at him blankly.
“Nuh uh,” says Lambert with his mouth full.
Geralt says, “Pass.”
*
He speaks clearly into the xenovox. “Yen? Are you there?”
“Geralt?” comes the reply, as if she were beside him in the room. “Is Ciri all right?”
“We’re all fine. It’s good to hear from you, too.”
“If there’s no trouble, then make it quick.”
Now he hesitates, but he chokes the question out anyway. “Do you know about the sweater curse?”
There is silence.
“Yen?”
“For the love of the gods, Geralt, please don���t bother me with frivolous garbage. I’m much too busy. Is that all?”
“Yes, that’s all,” Geralt says, suitably shamed.
*
The finished, washed, and blocked sweater rests folded at the bottom of his wardrobe for more than a week before he works up the nerve to bring it down to dinner with him in his knitting sack.
Even with the flaws that Geralt, as the creator, inevitably notices—a few loose stitches three quarters down the back panel, the right sleeve is slightly longer than the left—he has to admit that it turned out well. He could fetch a pretty penny for it in a large city. Silky soft, thick, and vivid burgundy, it would be a stand-out piece among any merchant’s wares even without the detailing that stretches collar to hem and even down the outside of the arms.
Knitting it was a nightmare. He will never do anything like it ever again, so Jaskier had better appreciate this one.
Still, every time he resolves to finally gift it, Ciri’s words echo in the back of his mind. You’re about to lose Jaskier for good.
On the ninth day, he shushes that voice, takes the sack, and marches straight into the hall for dinner. After all, if Yen and Vesemir aren’t worried, then he shouldn’t be either.
Everyone but Jaskier is there already. Eskel looks up from pouring ale into each mug and says, “Hullo, Geralt. What do you have there?” and Lambert says, “Ooh, didja finish it?” and Vesemir digs wordlessly into his mutton.
Ciri’s eyes zero in on the sack.
“Hello,” says Geralt. “Is Jaskier still washing up?”
“Yeah,” says Lambert. “He fell in a pile of snow.”
“Lambert pushed him into a pile of snow,” Eskel amends.
Geralt glares at the accused, setting the sack on the bench at his usual spot.
“He asked for it. Bloody said ‘Lambert, throw me into that snow over there!’ didn’t he?”
“Since you were alone with him at the time, I don’t think I can confirm or deny—”
“Geralt,” Ciri interrupts, “tell me you’re not still planning what you said.”
“I am,” he tells her.
“You were standing not ten feet away.”
“My back was turned—”
“You’re a godsdamned witcher! Or have you gone deaf?”
“Even after what I told you! I thought you were going to think about it!” Ciri pushes back from the table. “I forbid you from giving that to him.”
Geralt snorts. “Or what, Princess? Look, I don’t think Jaskier is planning to leave—”
“Of course he’s not planning to, the curse will make him! Why are you tempting destiny this way?”
“I’m just saying, Lambert, that it wouldn’t be out of your character to shove an unsuspecting bard into a snowbank.”
“Oh, and hustling him at Gwent wasn’t out of your character, so maybe you’re actually the one who shoved him. Thought about that one, Eskel?”
Geralt says, “If he tries to leave, I’ll tie him to the bed until the urge passes.”
She wrinkles her nose in disgust, but then moves past that comment. “At least let me give it to him. I’ll say I brought it from Cintra, or bought it on the way here.”
“And let my hard work go unacknowledged? I don’t think so. And why would you have bought a man’s sweater?”
Among the arguments, no one notices Jaskier enter the hall and come up behind Vesemir, wide eyed. “What did I miss?” he stage whispers.
“Just open your present, bard,” Vesemir mutters, gesturing to the sack at Geralt’s knee.
“Ooh, a present? For little old me?”
He picks up the sack and tests the weight curiously, before opening it and drawing out the most marvelous sweater he has ever seen.
“Jaskier, no!” Ciri cries, and everyone else falls quiet.
“What, why?” he says, looking between Ciri’s stricken face and the furrow between Geralt’s brows. “What is this?”
“It’s for you,” Geralt murmurs. “I made it.”
“You made it?” he repeats dumbly.
“Yes. For you. Because you were…cold.”
“Because I was cold?”
Geralt gently takes it from him and holds it up so he can see the full design. “That night, you came in when I was knitting, and you were cold. I wanted to make you something warm to wear that you would like.”
Jaskier squishes the soft fabric between his thumb and forefinger.
“Do you,” says Geralt, “like it?”
“It’s stunning,” Jaskier breathes. Geralt may as well have hit him over the head with a hammer.
“I cannot believe you, Geralt of Rivia,” Ciri cuts in. “You never listen to anyone. Don’t say I didn’t warn you!” With that, she turns on her heel and leaves the hall.
Geralt grimaces. “Do you, er, have any particular desire to leave me?”
“Leave you? Why would I—Geralt, is this a breakup gift? Is it pity?” He panics, pushing the sweater back into Geralt’s hands. “I don’t want your gorgeous pity breakup sweater, Geralt. I’ve played that game before.”
Geralt steadies him, as ever. “No, it’s—Ciri thinks there’s a curse, or something. And that if I made you a sweater, you would leave.”
“Oh,” says Jaskier. “Well, I assure you I will not. And in that case I do want the sweater.” He shucks off his coat right there at the table and pulls the sweater on over his tunic. “There!” He spreads his hands wide. “How does it look?”
The smile Geralt gives him is answer enough. “Perfect,” he says. “You look perfect.”
“Not bad, bard,” Eskel says.
Lambert shoots him a thumbs up. Vesemir does not appear to be paying attention.
Jaskier leans in and kisses Geralt on the lips. “Thank you very much,” he whispers. “I adore it and promise to thank you more appropriately later tonight. For now, shall I go after Ciri?”
“That may be best,” Geralt says. “I don’t think she likes me much right now.”
“My pleasure. Say,” he says louder, “while I’m gone, don’t let my food get cold.” He opens the door and barely feels the usual chill of the drafty hallways at all. Over his shoulder, he adds, “You can get Lambert to tell you all how he threw me in a snow pile today! It was great fun!”
“I told you—” he hears, but then the door closes behind him.
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