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mickey-henry · 3 years

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𝐲𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐈 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝

pairing: bucky barnes (bookstore au) x reader

summary: eager to escape the heat, you find yourself in the presence of a mesmerizing bookstore and an irresistibly beautiful man.

word count: 2.3K

author’s note: hello! welcome to my third fic😊 I’m eager to share this with you all! I now have a taglist (the link is also in my bio) if you’re interested🥰 thank you to @certainaesthetic for helping me workshop this idea, @fuckandfluff for the grammar help, and @midnightf for hyping me up as I wrote it! likes, reblogs, messages, replies, and comments are cherished! the header images are from pinterest and the divider is from here. I hope you like it! 💖

You’re desperate to escape the smoldering heat. It’s too hot to rest in the car; it’s been baking all day beneath the sweltering summer sun, parked just outside your place of work. If you attempt to sit in it now, you’d only be greeted with a wave of torrid air, stung with the touch of your seatbelt, and burnt from the searing leather of your steering wheel.

You’re off from work earlier than usual—the blinding sun is usually long beneath the horizon before you head home for the day. The pathetically small sun visor does nothing to shade your eyes from the blazing sunlight. Rather than driving half-blind, you decide to wait out the setting sun.

As you ponder how to spend the rest of your afternoon, you realize that now is an opportune time to visit the new bookstore, The Book Haven, that opened last month. After changing out of your uniform and throwing your work stuff in the trunk, you walk across the plaza to the shop entrance.

The bookstore greets you with the chime of a bell and a rush of cool air as you step in, a blissful contrast to the scorching outdoors. The welcoming scent of coffee grounds and the tangy aroma of old books accompany the refreshing breeze. You take a deep breath, appreciating the convivial atmosphere. The bookstore is a sublime sight; words almost can’t describe its charm.

Shelves like skyscrapers—stuffed to the brim with books, magazines, and comics—graze the ceiling. An intimate reading nook lies next to the door; an inviting window seat dwells beside a floor-to-ceiling window. Clear mosaic window clings cover the glass, casting beautiful rainbows throughout the store. Stringed vintage light bulbs illuminate the shelves; candle-lit sconces adorn the top corners of each one. Oriental rugs lay between the shelves, covering a dark mocha floor. Tucked in the back of the store is a small coffee cranny, hidden at first glance. Frank Sinatra’s charming, rich vocals travel through the air, tickling your ears. The owner clearly put the utmost time, energy, and love into the creation of their shop. It is unequivocally perfect and already one of your favorite places.

You wander to the classics section, enthralled by the exquisite covers. Sensing someone nearby, your eyes glance at movement caught in the corner of your eye. Your stomach somersaults at the stunning stranger. The instant you lay your eyes on him, you forget to breathe for a moment—your breath engulfs your throat. You’re astounded by the Adonis of a man before you.

Bristles of scruff grace his defined jawline—his low man-bun neatly styles his dark chestnut hair. A grey short-sleeve button-up shirt hugs his toned arms; a white tank top clings to his lean, fit frame; cuffed slim-fit khaki pants, help up by a bronze braided belt, embrace his thick thighs; and weathered, chunky brown leather shoes don his feet.

Through the rose-colored glasses that surround your heart, your soul imagines a life with a perfect stranger. The hopeless romantic in you can’t help but steal glances, hoping to catch a better glimpse of him. The moment he turns to walk away, your heart sinks to your stomach. You hope this isn’t the last time you see this gorgeous man.

A few minutes later, you’re mulling over a collectible edition of The Catcher in the Rye, attempting to justify purchasing yet another copy of your favorite book. A melodic voice interrupts your pondering. “That’s a pretty edition of The Catcher in the Rye you’ve got there.”

You turn towards the charming voice. Lo-and-behold, it’s the love of your life: the handsome stranger you’ve mentally lived a lifetime with. His beauty is even more profound up close: now you can see that his eyes are a lovely shade of blue. His eyes, haunted by a subtle sadness, draw you in, unlike anything you’ve experienced before. You find yourself entranced in his sea-blue current; you could easily drown in his gaze. You attempt to hide your awestruck expression and converse with him like a normal human being. “I agree! I already own a copy though, do I really need a new one?”

“I think we both know the answer is always yes,” he assures.

“Okay, you’ve convinced me. I'll get it! Thank you for justifying my unnecessary purchase.”

Your words hang in the air, everything going quiet as you wait for the ravishing stranger to introduce himself. The two of you stare in silence at each other, the tension thickening as the seconds pass by. After a few moments, his face flashes in realization—you were waiting for his name.

“I’m Bucky,” he offers with an enchanting smile, extending his hand out to you. You share your name as the two of you shake hands. Your eyes stare down his veiny arm to his ring-studded fingers grasped around yours. You allow yourself to imagine for a few moments how amazing those fingers would feel tracing your arms, tangling your hair, and teasing your inner thigh. Your lustful reverie comes to an abrupt halt at the sight of the book nestled inside the crook of his elbow: The Metamorphosis by Franz Kafka, the bane of your existence. You scoff with furrowed brows; of course, Mr. Handsome Stranger would be interested in the one book you despise.

“Got something to say there, sweetheart?” he questions with an amused grin.

“Out of all the classic novels in this entire store, that’s the one you chose? The Metamorphosis?”

“What’s wrong with this one?” he jives.

You pause for a second, debating whether it’s worth it to argue with a stranger. The pondering lasts only a few seconds; the exhaustion from your day disintegrates your filter. Besides, you loathe The Metamorphosis.

“What isn’t wrong with it? The dude wakes up thinking he’s an insect? The reader has to sit there throughout the entire book, wondering whether he’s a man or a bug? What the actual fuck? I didn’t appreciate the existential crisis that book gave me at fifteen; if I can help someone else avoid the suffering caused by that monstrosity, I'm going to do my part,” you huff, unamused by the joy Bucky seems to gain from your zealous analysis.

“Wow, what a passionate review! Perez Hilton would be envious of your slander. Okay then, what classic would you recommend instead?”

You cross your arms, expecting him to challenge your response. “The Importance of Being Earnest by Oscar Wilde.”

“That’s a play,” he counters.

“It’s published as a book; it counts! It’s witty, playful, and has a happy ending, which is the most important point of all. It also doesn’t make you want to pull a Fahrenheit 451 and burn every copy in existence,” you attest.

He steps closer to you, tucking loose strands of his hair behind his ear. “Life doesn’t always have a happy ending, sweetheart.”

Great, there he goes again with that freaking pet name; it’s going to be the death of you. He knows your name, you just gave it to him, yet here he is, infuriatingly insisting on calling you sweetheart instead. Stupid pretty boy with his ocean blue eyes and amorous smile.

“That’s exactly the point,” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose. “So, why would I want to read something that doesn’t end well? If I’m going to escape this reality for a while, it better be for a happier one.”

“And if it's not?”

“Then I’ll throw the book across the room and make up my own happy ending!”

“Ooh, aggressive,” he tuts. “The owner of this place might not be too happy with you if you’re throwing books all over the place; it’ll scare away the customers.”

“Then it’s a good thing the owner isn’t here,” you interject confidently, knowing full well you have no idea who the owner is.

“Well, that just isn’t true, sweetheart. You’re looking right at him.”

He’s lying—he has to be. Why would a dreamboat like Bucky own a bookstore?

You scoff, “you’re not the owner of this place.”

“I’m not? What makes you say that?” he banters.

“People like you don’t own bookstores!” you exclaim.

“People like me?” he goads, cocking his head to the side. The action erupts butterflies in your stomach.

“Attractive people!” you groan.

“So you think I’m attractive?” he plays, stepping to close the gap between you.

“Psh, no, you wish,” you muster. The heat spreading across your cheeks betrays your bluff.

There are mere inches between the both of you now; you hope he can’t hear your racing heartbeat. You watch his eyes go down from yours to your mouth and back up again. He eyes you with a smirk, his teeth playfully tugging his bottom lip. It takes everything in your power not to give in to his spell.

“I’ve known you for what, five minutes? I don’t go around kissing strangers, Bucky,” you falter, taking a step back from his closeness.

“Then let’s not be strangers, sweetheart. Grab a coffee with me; I know a nice place, not far from here,” he flirts, gesturing to the counter at the back of the store.

“Let me learn more about what goes on in that pretty little head of yours,” he purrs, his breath tickling your cheek.

“Okay, fine. I’ll have a coffee with you,” you surrender.

A bright, honeyed smile dons his face.

“It better be good, though. Not the stale crap you usually get in the middle of the afternoon.”

“I’d only give you the best, sweetheart,” he winks, extending his right hand. You take it; he gives you a soft squeeze before weaving you through the towering shelves.

Your discussion continues with another passionate book review as he prepares your drink. He’s a sucker for gritty dystopian novels while you gravitate towards sappy romances. He shares his passion for painting as he guides you to the reading nook. The artwork hung on the edges of the bookcases is crafted by him—a detail you hadn’t noticed at first glance. His stunning work features both landscapes and people. He loves to sit in a picturesque landscape and paint for endless hours. Occasionally, he takes his old polaroid as he explores the town, snapping moments between strangers, translating their intimacy to canvas when he gets home.

He gestures for you to take a seat in the reading nook before handing you our steaming cup of joe. You sit with your legs crossed, your hands hugging the mug in your lap. Bucky sits with his leg draped over the side of the bench, his left foot pressing into his right thigh. The conversation shifts topics; the two of you divulge your desires and unfulfilled ambitions. You aren’t sure if it’s the look in his eyes, the sweet cup of joe in your palms, or the aroma of coffee surrounding you, but in his presence, your senses feel wide awake.

Before you know it, the mesmeric moon replaces the sizzling sun, melting away the blistering heat, and the steaming cup of coffee in your hands has long chilled. Bucky’s employee interrupts the blissful rendezvous, informing him that all the closing duties are complete, and he’s headed home for the night.

You stare at your watch in shock—it's five past nine. Where did the time go? You apologize profusely to the poor kid who had to close up alone; he assures you it’s no problem.

A melancholic pit in your stomach forms as you turn back to Bucky. He’s nestled himself into your soul; you don’t want to say farewell to him so soon. He has a sad glint in his eyes; you hope it’s because he’s also dreading the end of this perfect night.

“Can I walk you to your car?” he asks timidly, his earlier suave demeanor gone from his voice. He stands up in front of you, offering his arm to escort you.

“I’d love that,” you reply with a shy grin, grabbing his arm and hugging it tightly.

In the blink of an eye, you’re in front of your car. You let go of his arm and lean against the trunk. You stare into his eyes, hoping that he can see without the use of words how much you don’t want this moment to end. There’s a few moments of painful silence before Bucky clears his throat.

“So, now that we’re not total strangers, how about that kiss?” he flirts with pleading eyes.

“Okay,” you reply with a bashful smile.

He slowly reaches his hand towards your cheek, softly stroking it with his thumb. He presses his forehead against yours. “Are you sure you want to do this? ‘Cause if we do, you might not be able to get rid of me, sweetheart.”

“Yes I do, Bucky,” you giggle.

He grins as he gently presses his pillowy pink lips on yours. The kiss steals all the air from your lungs—his touch sends tingles throughout your body, electrifying your veins. You’re breathless when your lips finally part.

“Let me get your number before I let you go,” Bucky insists. You nod and hand him your phone, unable to form a coherent thought. The ghost of his lips and fingers trace your figure. You’re barely acquainted with his tender touch, yet you feel naked without it, yearning to once again be within his grasp.

You exchange phones—adding your number and name with a sparkling heart emoji and swiftly passing his phone back before you can change your mind. Bucky snaps a quick selfie for his contact, smirking for the camera. You grin when you see he also put emojis by his name: a beetle and a kissy-face.

He pecks your cheek before opening the car door for you. “Hope to see you around, lovebug.” The new pet name burns your cheeks and erupts butterflies in your stomach.

He doesn’t leave the parking lot until your car disappears completely from his view.

You drive home with thoughts of Bucky swirling in your mind. You send a silent thanks to the universe for bringing this beautiful man into your life. His voice, touch, and smile echo in your thoughts for the remainder of the evening—his presence paving its way through your dreams. You’re falling hard and fast; you only hope he’ll be there to catch you.

tagging a few mutuals who expressed interest in this story🥰please fill out the taglist form if you’d like to be tagged in the next story! 💖

@ritesofreverie @midnightf @certainaesthetic

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky x you #bucky x reader #bucky barnes one shot #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes reader insert #bucky barnes #mickey-henry #my fic: you're the best book I ever read #mel's writing

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whumpzone · 3 years

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Linden & Colton - 19

(masterpost)

CW: references to noncon, Col fearing he'll be sexually abused, flashbacks, brief victim blaming, pet whump, dehumanisation

Linden’s phone buzzed again, and he knew exactly who it’d be before he even looked.

Sure enough, messages from his brother were crowding his phone screen. Vikram texted in small, frantic messages, that Linden found oddly funny.

lol fine knowing you you’ll never suggest a day

are you free tomorrow? I’ll come over for lunch or something

you know you miss me!!

Linden rolled his eyes, but truth be told, he did miss him. A new message appeared before he had the chance to start typing.

fine FINE I just want to see jaffa. you can die idc

That made him huff out a laugh, but he’d never give Vik the satisfaction of knowing that. Instead, he typed back:

Tomorrow is fine, don’t worry about bringing food. What are you doing now? Can you ring me? I have something to tell you before you visit.

Vik replied almost immediately.

yeah gimme 2 secs, who have you killed lol!

He checked around for Colton, but he was nowhere to be seen. Probably still working his way through the little chores and tasks Linden had given him, which meant he was either changing the roll of toilet paper in the bathroom (great for dexterity) or watering the balcony plants (providing plenty of fresh air and sunlight). Either way, he still positioned himself in the corner of the lounge, the furthest from his Pet’s ears.

He answered on the second ring. “Vik?”

“Hey, big man. You alright?”

“Yeah… yeah… I, um, I need to tell you something before you come over.”

“You sound tense, mate. What is it? Everything okay?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine it’s just- I have a Pet. Uh. Yeah.”

Vik didn’t miss a beat. “Are you serious? You, a Pet owner? Please.”

“I know, but there was this, this ad, in the paper, the council were talking about this random stray and they said if no one claimed him they were gonna put him down. They would have murdered him, Vik! And I don’t know. I just thought, fuck, no one else is gonna do anything are they. So I rang them up and they gave him to me for free.”

“Wow,” Vik said, a placeholder while he digested all of that. “So, how is he?”

“He’s alright, yeah. Only recently learned that he could speak. He’s still really really jumpy.”

“He’s scared of you, then,” Vik translated.

“Yeah. I don’t know how much of him you’ll see tomorrow. I’ll tell him it’s alright if he just stays in his room.”

“I can’t picture you as a Pet owner, even though you’re not a proper one.”

“Not a proper one as in I’m a good person with a soul?” Linden quipped. Vik snorted.

“Basically. Ew, it’s weird! He does whatever you say! But you’re just- you’re Linden. You’re my stupid baby brother. He should be telling you what to do.”

Linden smiled. Vik always put him at ease. Difficult topics seemed to flow off him like water off a duck. “Yeah, yeah it is kind of weird, I’m still getting used to it. But you see why I wanted to let you know beforehand.”

“Oh, yeah, totally,” he laughed. “Or else I might have thought he was burgling your house and I’d have asked to join in.”

“Oh, shut up. See you for lunch.”

“See you, Pet man!”

Linden felt the weight lift from his shoulders, but not entirely. Now he had to tell Col.

. . .

He had finished over ten minutes ago. Shiny drops of water still lingered on some of the wider leaves, not quite ready to drop into the moist soil below. But the balcony was too warm and sunny to resist, so Col was still kneeling there when he heard Master’s voice behind him.

He flinched hard at the sound, getting up quickly and ungraciously, tripping over his own feet as if he hadn’t just been caught lazing around.

Through the doorway, a perfect rectangle of light caught Master’s face, cutting down through one eye and turning his left cheek a tawny brown. He had his hands clasped behind his back, and leant forward slightly.

“Don’t worry about getting up, you’re fine, love. No, I don’t know if you heard, but I was just speaking to my brother Vikram over the phone. He’s going to visit tomorrow.”

Master was having a guest. Col nodded, but his mind went white. He suddenly felt like he wasn’t in control anymore. He was underwater, and Master’s voice barely faded through from above the surface.

“You can stay in your room, okay? You don’t have to come down and see him, if you don’t want to. There’s no pressure. I just wanted to let you know beforehand.”

The words flowed past his head, and whatever barriers had been pulled down over his mind kept them from making a dent. “Thank you, sir,” his body replied.

“Okay?” Master half-smiled. “Okay. Good stuff, Col. It’s a nice day- stay out on the balcony more, I know you like it there. I’ll see you later, okay?”

He nodded, but it must have been delayed, because he blinked and Master had left the room, as if he had never been there. Had Col dreamt it?

Turning around, the flowers were wet, so he had completed that task. He knew he had been ordered to stay, so he did, trying to keep the creeping dread from flooding him entirely.

But-

The next day-

It all came crashing down. His eyes snapped open and he was in his room, waiting, and then there was the click of the front door and Master was speaking, speaking with another voice- there was a man in the house-

Master only ever had guests when his Pet had been bad, and he was going to be taught a lesson, and that’s why he was told to wait in his room, that’s why he was prepped, maybe it was a small mercy. But he had been in such a state of denial, barely able to process the news, that he hadn’t done anything to make it hurt less.

All he knew was that he was on the floor in the corner, the furthest one from the bed, and his arms were wrapped around him as if that’d do anything to stop the onslaught. He knew they would just force his limbs apart and restrain them like that until they were done, and it didn’t matter whether he cried and begged. Sometimes they even enjoyed it more when he did. Once he had been lifted up by his throat and told to beg for his life, and it made everyone laugh, because look at it, it wants this, it’s begging for it.

The door handle turned and Col could see Master’s face. His eyes scanned the room briefly before they landed on Col, tucked away in the corner of the room. “Col? What is it?”

. . .

Hey, Col. Vik is here, just so you know, but again, no pressure to come downstairs. He knew what he would say, the tone he’d say it in, so he could hopefully make Col feel secure. But it all fell apart when he laid eyes on the Pet, curled up and trembling on the far side of the room.

“Col?” he said. “What is it?”

“You promised,” Col sobbed, utterly betrayed. Linden’s heart broke. “You promised you wouldn’t- wouldn’t- wouldn’t do that…”

“I won’t,” he said, understanding immediately and wanting more than anything to go over to Col and pull him into a hug. But he couldn’t. He knew that.

“You said you wouldn’t let anyone else,” he whispered, looking up at him with bloodshot eyes.

Then- the moment of vulnerability passed. Not that Col looked any less vulnerable. He was still hunched, small and weak, programmed to do whatever it took to make Linden happy. But he caught his tongue, and the mask slipped back on.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. You can do- do what you want to me. Of course. I’m not, I don’t mean to question you, Master, I’m sorry, I know my place, I’m good, I promise I’m good.”

“You are, you’re really good.” He put a hand over his heart and kept it there. “I’m not going to come in, Vik isn’t going to come in. Neither of us are going to hurt you. I promised, and I’m sticking to it.”

Col was still sobbing, but it was more uneven breaths than actual tears. He couldn’t have spoken even if he wanted to with the way his lungs were pulling the rug from underneath him.

“For now, I think you might feel safer if I just left you alone, so I’ll go back downstairs, okay? And I won’t disturb you again. You just make sure you feel better, that’s all that matters. Don’t worry, Col. You’re safe.”

Vikram didn’t say anything as Linden returned, but he did raise his eyebrows. Linden just nodded, keeping quiet until he was sat back down and, hopefully, out of earshot.

“Poor thing,” said Linden. “He thinks, well- he just sees everything as a threat. I don’t know if he’s ever had a positive experience with another person before. At least not in his memory. Did you…”

He trailed off and Vik simply nodded. All humour was gone from his face; he knew when to leave it out, and when it would help. “Yeah, I heard a bit of it. Heard him crying.”

“I don’t want you to take it personally-“ Linden started, but Vik had already swatted at him.

“Oh, stop it. As if I would. But I am- I am happy I’m here, even though I’m sorry it’s scared him. You need someone too, Linden. Like, shit, this is a full time job.”

“You sound weird, being nice to me” he smiled weakly. Vik grinned back at him, in complete earnest.

“Well then, we can talk about something else, if you want. Something I can confidently mock you for. Where’s Jaffa, too?” he twisted around in his chair, searching for her. His floofed-up hair, hairsprayed to excess, bobbed around on the top of his head as he went. “Where’s my little main attraction?”

Soon Vik had Jaffa on his lap where he was brushing her absent-mindedly, listening to Linden talk about the latest book he had read.

“You are a fuckin’ hermit, dude.”

“And?” Linden pulled his best bored-looking face.

“Well… actually, yeah, stay indoors. Forcing you to come drinking with me would be at the rest of the pub’s expense.”

“You’re a bastard,” Linden laughed. “It’s you they should be worrying about, with that boulder of hair on your head. Look at the state of it, it crunches when you touch it.”

“The ladies love it.”

“Yeah, ‘cause they know if they get locked out they can use it to smash a window.”

. . .

Above them, Col listened. He couldn’t make out the words, but both men seemed happy and upbeat, excited about the night ahead of them, excited about the pliant little bitch waiting upstairs.

Before that, though-

Colton had been openly defiant. He had begged for it to stop before it had even started. He hadn’t taken an ounce of pain, nothing had earned him the right to plead for mercy. He had not only been insubordinate, but he had done it while Master had a guest. That kind of embarrassment would not go unpunished. Master would not have his authority undermined by some common stray.

Col desperately needed to apologise. He knew he shouldn’t just wait for his punishment like usual this time. This time he needed to right the balance. He would prove that he knew his place, and show Master’s guest that his rule here was absolute. So with shaking hands, he slowly creaked open the door, and went downstairs.

The laughter died as he came into view, and even the feeling of their eyes settling over his body made his skin prickle. For a split second, his feet locked in place, but as usual his fear pushed them onwards. He kept his head down, his arms behind his back, his shoulders hunched. As soon as he reached Master’s feet, he knelt. Forehead to the floor. Hands to his sides, ready to be stomped on or grabbed. He was a slave. He was always open for his Master’s use. He did not answer back and he did not question.

“Col, are you, are you sure you want to be here?” Master asked from above. He was very sure. But yes, of course, it was no use Col thinking these kinds of affirmations in his head. He had to make them clear.

“I’m here to apologise, sir, for daring to answer back and embarrassing you. Your Pet knows that he is owned completely and it was c-completely wrong to question you. I had no right to ask for mercy, I don’t deserve any. I’m a mindless Pet with no free will and I exist to serve you. P-Please, accept th-this apology. It won’t- won’t happen again.”

He stammered, towards the end. He could only hope Master wouldn’t get angry about it.

. . .

Ironically, it was now that Linden was embarrassed. He glanced over at Vik, and as the two brothers made eye contact, it was as if they had exchanged a whole conversation.

You see, see what I mean? See how he is?

Yeah, dude. It’s fucked up.

I’m sorry.

Don’t be. You’re doing your best to help him. I’m not embarrassed if you’re not.

He gently reached down to Col and rested a palm on top of his head. He jerked in surprise, a weak gasp escaping his lips, but he otherwise stayed perfectly still.

“Okay, love. Thank you. I’m not angry, okay? My brother is here and he always puts me in a good mood.”

He shot another glance at Vik, mouthing this is how I make him understand. Vik nodded. He was looking at Col curiously. Linden wondered if this was how he had pictured him.

“You didn’t embarrass me. You’re fine. I’m not going to hurt you. Vik doesn’t want to hurt you either. Why don’t you go and sit on the balcony, and I’ll sit with you later, and pet your head? You’re not in trouble.”

As he retracted his hand Col’s head tilted upwards, chasing the warmth of the touch. He kept his eyes low, but whispered, “Thank you, sir, thank you, thank you for having mercy. It won’t happen again, I promise.”

“Okay, you’re okay. Let me help you up.”

It was technically an order, and Col obeyed silently, offering no resistance as Linden slipped a hand over his elbow and pulled him to his feet. He smiled at Col, but his face was blank and resigned. Beyond fear. He had done what he could, and his fate was in Linden’s hands once more. It hurt to know that. Linden could decide to leash Col at any moment, torture him with knives and burning oil and belts, and Col wouldn’t be able to do anything about it.

Linden steered him to the base of the stairs, and then gently encouraged him upwards, until he had drifted out of sight entirely.

The house was silent. He turned back to Vik, but neither had to say anything. Linden already knew that he understood.

first half of the taglist!

@newbornwhumperfly @whumpadump1939 @firewheeesky @whump-me-all-night-long @captainseconds @grizzlie70 @unicornscotty @lave-whump @princessofonward @cupcakes-and-pain @bumbumbea @whumpfigure @yet-another-heathen @secretwhumplair @whumps-up @as-a-matter-of-whump @getyourwhumphere @itzagoodthing @whumpymirages @soapparentlyilikewhumpnow @zipadeedooda-drabbles @penny-for-your-whump @briars7 @legallylibra @angel-stars @loyds-of-registry @tears-and-lilies @badluck990 @rosesareviolentlyread

@vickytokio @neuro-whump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpsy-daisies @control-whump @theydy-cringeworthy @starnight-whump @cursedandtired @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @justabitofwhump @glamrockgregory @rippedjeansandfadeddreams @genesissane @justbreakonme @addyez @httyd-chocolate

#linden and colton #pet whump #noncon tw

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 years

Text

Sugar, Sugar 15

[FIFTEEN/END]

MASTERLIST

Warnings: non-consent sex and rape, violence, mean sugary Steve

This is a dark! sugar daddy! Steve fic. Obvious AU so please keep that in mind. :) That being said, it will be an explicit fic (18+) with noncon. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

(This chapter: violence, threats, fear :O)

Series Summary: The reader is struggling in the big city but find opportunity before her. Will she take it?

This Chapter: The wedding day approaches but not everything goes to plan.

Author Notes: So this is another series wrapped up after a grueling two years, haha. Sorry y’all.

Please let me know what you think, like and reblog <3 love ya

🍭 🍭 🍭

The floor length mirror was trimmed with twisted gold. You stared at your reflection as your shaky hands pressed against the front of the ivory dress. The cut hid the small bump but you could not forget it. Ever since you confessed, it all happened so fast; the wedding was pushed up, the dress tailored and expedited, and invitations sent out in a rush.

It all felt surreal. The day had come but you just couldn’t accept it. How could you go through those doors and smile through it all?

You closed your eyes and let your breath out. They would knock when it was your time. Your father would be waiting to walk you down the aisle. The guests waited eagerly for the most talked about ceremony in the city. And you still felt like just a footnote in your own wedding.

You moved away from the mirror and sat unsteadily, gripping the arms of the cushioned chair, careful not to catch your veil under you. That night you told him, that was the final straw. But you didn’t forget what Sasha said. You took a picture of the broken door and wrote down the entire scene. You sent it to yourself in an email as proof.

That wasn’t the last time. You recorded Steve one day when he came in as you were texting your sister about the new date. You hadn’t answered his last message about your first appointment with the doctor. He was livid and you sat and listened to him rant as the red dots pulsed. You wrote down every instance, every time he made you appease him, every terrifying word.

Then there were the police reports. Nothing more than words in a filing cabinet but the night he choked you was just the beginning. He threatened to break your finger when you took your ring off because your hands were swelling. Then he broke your laptop when you didn’t pay him enough attention.

As the wedding loomed closer, he only seemed to get worse. He was clingy, always touching you, marveling over your stomach. He checked in almost every hour on the hour when he was working, and you weren’t stupid enough not to notice that the building was being watched.

It was like you were living two lives and yet you were entirely trapped with him. What good could the emails do? Or the reports when the police wouldn’t act on them? You were going to marry this man and that would be the end of it; of you, of your life.

Knuckles tapped on the door and you stood. You crossed the room and inched it open the door. You flinched as you were met by an unexpected and uninvited guest.

“Sasha?” you gasped.

“You’re marrying him then?” he held the handle but you didn’t try to close the door, “the account gone, I heard nothing from you.”

“I… I’m scared,” you admitted, “when he found out, I thought he was going to--” you shook your head. He wouldn’t actually kill you.

“You know it’s not too late,” Sasha urged.

“You can’t be here, it he finds out, he’ll--”

“I’ll defend myself,” Sasha snarled uncharacteristically, “I’ll give him what he deserves.’

“No, I don’t want you to get hurt. You need to go,” you begged as you glanced past him furtively.

“I will. Come with me,” he said, “just go. Everyone’s distracted, they won’t know--”

“I can’t just leave. You don’t understand--”

“No, you don’t understand,” he argued, “if you marry him, it all gets so much more complicated. I told you that day at the café. It will be harder to fight after the vows, but right now, you can still get out.”

“And go where?”

He swallowed and looked down the hall. You could hear the distant murmur of the crowd.

“Did you do any of it? Keep a journal? Something?” he asked.

“I tried. I went to the police but nothing,” you sniffed and gripped the door tight.

“Nothing yet but that’s a start,” he chewed the inside of his lip.

“Why are you here? Why is this so important to you?”

“Because I can do something,” he hissed, “because I can’t live with it if I don’t. So come on. Come with me, I got a bigger place. It’ll have to do for now and then we’ll work on getting you standing, getting the baby somewhere to grow--”

“Am I trading him for you?”

“I’m your friend,” he said evenly, “that will never change. All I want is you safe. If it makes you feel better, I’ll sleep in the hall. You can lock me out and I’ll sleep against the door. But I came down here knowing I wouldn’t leave without you.”

“It’s a sweet fantasy but--”

“Come on,” he grabbed your hand and pushed the door open, “please, don’t go with him. It doesn’t end well. You don’t get out. It doesn’t get better.”

“I have nothing,” you quavered.

“You have me,” he said, “please don’t make me walk out of here alone.”

“I….” you uttered as your heart squeezed. “He’ll come after you.”

“Good, I want him to,” he clung to you, “please?”

You inhaled and heard the voices. Your father and your sister. You had no time to think but you knew it was your only chance.

“Let’s go,” you lifted your skirt and pulled the door shut behind you as you stepped out, “now.”

He held onto your hand as you rushed away from the voices and skirted around the corner. Sasha urged you on down the back stairs and through the maze like halls of the extravagant church. You nearly tumbled down the stairs and he caught you as you came along the narrow passage beside the main room, the guests and groom just on the other side of the wall.

You came out into the sunlight and Sasha lifted the train of your skirts as he directed you over the grass. our heels sank into the dirt as you rushed over and the organ began to play Here Comes the Bride. As he helped stuff the swathes of fabric in behind you in his modest car, the music stopped suddenly.

He closed the door as you were squished in the back seat amid your layered skirts and he got in the front. The engine turned and he nearly side swept another car as he pulled out without looking. You peeked back behind you but saw no one coming down the large steps of the church.

He turned the corner and sidled in behind a yellow cab. He looked at you in the mirror and nodded. You bit your lips nervously as reality sank in. Your chest hammered and your entire body buzzed with adrenaline. You knew it was only the beginning.

🍭

The day passed in a daze. You sat in your wedding dress waiting for all hell to break loose. Sasha sat with a beer, silently, and tapped his foot endlessly. When the silence was too much, he turned on the television but neither of you paid any attention to the old sitcom.

When the trance of disbelief dissipated, he showed you around his spacious loft. He was being paid well by Stark but you worried how long he would stay on the payroll after what he’d done. Steve wasn’t stupid and there were more photographers at the church then you’d seen collectively over the last year and a half.

“This is the second bedroom,” he showed you into a room with gleaming windows. There was a bed, a dresser, curtains, a cozy rug, all carefully selected, “I thought you’d be here sooner.”

Your eyes lingered on the box leaned against the far wall. A crib.

“Didn’t know how long…” his voice trailed off as he followed your eye line, “I’m not trying to be him. You can go anytime but I… you have a place here.”

Your eyes welled and you blotted them with your knuckles, the rough lace of your gloves scratching your cheeks, “you did all this for me?”

“I told you, I’d do anything,” he said.

“But… Sasha, I don’t--”

“I don’t expect anything from you. High school was a long time ago but you made it bearable for the biggest dweeb in the class.” He sighed and paced a circle around the room, “you know, I had the biggest crush on you. That doesn’t mean anything now, it doesn’t mean I want you to fall into my arms, but it means I want to help you. It’s the right thing to do, somehow I made a career of doing the right thing so what’s one more?”

You felt your chest sink and you covered your cheeks with your hands, “Sasha?”

“Please,” he cringed, “I was a teen boy, I think I had a thing for Oprah once. Really, it’s just… we’re friends. We’ll always be friends.”

“I can’t…” you sniffled and dropped your hands, “I don’t deserve any of this.”

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Sasha intoned, “and you don’t deserve to live like that. I know this isn’t much but I know you. You’ll find your way, you just got a little lost.”

“I…” you shook your head speechless.

“We’ll figure everything else out tomorrow. You can borrow some of my clothes for tonight and then we can see about retrieving your things from Steve,” he neared the door and stopped beside you, “or we can say fuck it and you can start all over.”

You turned and slung your arms around him. You buried your face against his shoulder as tears spilled out onto his jacket.

“How did you know?” you sobbed.

“That day at the shower,” he rubbed your back gently, “you know, lawyers learn how to read people and you never were very good at subtlety.”

“No,” you chuckled through your tears, “No, it’s why I was great as a bard.”

“Mmm,” he grumbled, “if that’s how you remember it.”

🍭

It felt like Sasha was gone forever but when you checked the clock, it had only been twenty minutes.

You sat on the couch with your feet under you as you watched the news and rocked nervously. All anyone was talking about was Steve Rogers’ runaway bride. Your face was everywhere and the statement issued by Steve made it all the worse.

He painted you as a gold-digger, as an adulterer, as a swindler. He was the heartbroken fiancé and you were the wrongdoer. You knew it would go this way but expectation never softened reality.

You flinched as the lock turned and Sasha entered with a bag in hand. He came to the couch and set it down beside you.

“I don’t know about my taste in women's clothes but those should do,” he said as he checked his watch, “we should go soon.”

“Yeah,” you stood and opened the bag to reveal the lavender blouse and dark jeans, “you really didn’t have to--”

“You kidding, he’s gonna be surrounded by cameras. You can’t win his game if you don’t play it. I’ve dealt with his type before, they’re the ones who need lawyers on standby,” he sneered, “did you eat?”

“Yeah, thanks,” you swiped up the bag and headed for the hallway, “it was good.”

“No problem,” he shrugged as he grabbed the remote and shut off the tv, “and ignore all that nonsense.”

You got dressed and emerged as your anxiety grew to impatience. You left the apartment in brittle silence and the car ride fed the uneasy bubbling of your stomach. .

As you came up to Steve’s building, you sat for a moment before you got out. Sasha followed and shoulder away the cameras as you neared the front door

The elevator moved slowly and fidgeted uncontrollably as it dinged on Steve’s floor. You swallowed and braced yourself to face Steve. Sasha kept a few feet back as you walked down the hall and stopped at the door. You knocked as you found it locked.

It was a while before it opened but when it did, you were startled as Steve grabbed the front of your blouse and wrenched you inside. He spun you but quickly released you as he was knocked off balance and sent sprawling over the floor. Sasha stood above him with his hands in fists.

“Hey,” he pointed at Steve then looked at you, “you okay?”

You nodded as Steve glared between the two of you and cautiously got to his feet, “so you brought your little boyfriend?”

“She’s here to get her stuff. We thought we’d avoid a police escort, as her lawyer I thought it prudent, but we can always make that phone call,” Sasha said sternly, “she is entitled to her possessions.”

“Her stuff? I paid for every single thing she has to her name. Hers? Mine.” Steve spat and reared on you again, only to be caught by Sasha as he inserted himself between you.

“You will not touch her again. Those things you bought for her were gifts. You have no legal rights to them once they are given. She will take her clothes, her phone, and any other necessities.”

“Pfft, she’s not taking anything. She’s not going anywhere,” Steve growled, “she not yours--”

“I am certain the photogs would appreciate a show,” Sasha pulled out his phone, “police? That can only be a domestic dispute.”

Steve squinted and his nose flared as he looked at you over Sasha’s shoulder, “fucking slut.” He crossed his arms and stepped aside, “get your shit, get out…” he hissed, “but I have my rights too. You will not keep me from my baby.”

“That will be settled in court,” Sasha replied coolly, “go on, get your things.”

He waved you past him as he kept you shield from Steve. He was of a height with Steve but not as broad. Even so, you felt safe behind him. You rushed down to the bedroom and quickly gathered up your toiletries and those clothes you didn’t absolutely hate. Your phone screen was shattered but you took it anyway.

As you emerged again, a bag slung on your shoulder, you slid the ring from your finger.

“You can keep the rest,” you said as you placed the band on the small round table just inside the front room, “goodbye Steve.”

“Goodbye? Goodbye?” he spat, “this isn’t the end and you fucking know it.”

“Calm down,” Sasha warned.

“You don’t tell me what to do,” Steve shoved him, “I should fucking smash your head in--”

“I’d like you to try,” Sasha stood his ground, “really. You think the court would let a violent man be around an infant?”

Steve scoffed and rolled his eyes. He backed down and shouldered by Sasha. “Get the fuck out.”

You left quickly. You had no desire to hang around. As you stepped onto the elevator, Sasha softly touched your elbow and you winced. The bag fell to your elbow and he quickly scooped it up and heaved it over his own shoulder.

“You okay?” he asked.

“No, I don’t think so,” you said, “he was so angry. I--”

“I was stupid, we should’ve brought the police. Fuck the cameras,” he said, “from this point on, no contact with him whatsoever. Only through me and the court. No talking to reporters, no nothing.”

“Yeah, that won’t be hard,” you uttered as he led you out of the elevator.

As you came outside, cameras flashed and voices called out. You collided with Sasha as he was blocked by a photographer shouting questions, “is it true you’re pregnant? Is it Steve’s?”

“My client will not be answering questions,” Sasha kept on and made a path for you, “go, she’s not answering any of your questions.”

He elbowed past more cameras and opened the car door for you. You fell inside and quickly huddled down in your seat. As he sat behind the wheel, he mumbled and pulled out into traffic. He gripped the wheel tightly and pushed himself back into the vinyl.

“That asshole,” he said, “he’s gonna want the paternity test. This isn’t gonna be pretty.”

“I can’t… he fucking told them. I mean, I’m not surprised but… god,” you grimaced.

“We’ll get the test done before he makes a formal request,” Sasha said, “it shows transparency and when we hand over those results, we’ll include those police reports too.”

“Police reports?” you blinked.

“Sorry, I… It’s a suggestion,” he said tersely, “but he’s going to make this a trial by media.”

“No, no, I want to,” you said firmly, “I want everyone to know the real Steve Rogers.”

🍭

‘I was just like many struggling in the city. I worked a low-paying job in data entry and lived in an apartment which was little more than a box. The dreams of the big city were passing me by as there was little opportunity to be found.

Then I met Steve Rogers. Like a dream or a Lifetime movie. I was in debt, I was desperate, and he offered me a safety net. I can own my part in the relationship; I was interested and I accepted his generosity. I was all too happy with the arrangement.

That was until I found out that it was all based on a lie. I didn’t know that he had access to my accounts even before I knew him, that he had used his connections to force me into that dire situation. And I could not know the real man behind the billionaire façade.

It was little things at first. Any woman loves to feel wanted but his possessiveness soon turned to control. He kept me isolated from my own family and did not permit me to do anything without his permission. His affection turned to obsession and when it was not reciprocated he forced it from me.

He took me on vacation and did not allow me to wear clothes. He chose what I wore, how I looked, and what I did. He coerced me into acts I was reluctant about, and when he was too rough, he did not listen to my pleas for him to stop.

When I tried to leave him, he followed me and dragged me back. He had me watched by PIs and surveilled all my communications. He used his financial power to control me and when that did not work, he used his physical power.

Steve Rogers abused me. He yelled in my face, he threatened my family, and he choked me.

Steve Rogers raped me. He expected me to bend to his will whenever he desired and when I refused, he held me down and did what he wanted.

Steve Rogers took my whole life and when I chose to leave, he set his eyes on the life inside of me.

The only thing I want from him is freedom. I want to live safely with my child and I want that child to never experience the abuse of their father. I never want anyone to know that horror again which is why I have written this and released the police records. I am not asking for anything but peace for me and my unborn child.’

The statement was carefully edited by Sasha. You reread the font across the glossy pages of Vanity Fair, the article spliced with excerpts not only from the police reports, but your own emailed accounts of your relationship, and the whole thing began with an image of that broken bathroom door.

It was two months since you ran away from the altar but life was not a romcom. It was a disaster. Even with the article, you knew not all would believe you. You knew it would open you to doubt and vitriol. And you knew Steve would have a response.

You closed the magazine and groaned as you rubbed your hips. Freedom didn’t feel so… freeing. There was a long way to go; court dates, doctor’s appointment, and depositions. But it was a start.

You rested your hand on your stomach and pushed on the arm of the couch as you stood stiffly. When you were halfway up, you felt a hand on your elbow and Sasha helped you stand straight. You smiled guiltily. You’d grown a lot in the last few weeks and still had nearly four months to go.

“The reviews are good,” he said, “I know that is kinda grim but… people seem to believe you.”

“Seem to?” you echoed as you went to the kitchen and pulled out the container of sliced strawberries, “or they don’t?”

“Well,” he leaned on the counter as he watched you add too much cream to the berries and smiled, “Stark Industries has cut ties with Shield, Inc. and Tony has made a sizeable donation to several shelters across the city,” he cupped his chin coyly as he leaned on his elbow, “and will be covering legal costs for the support hearings seeing as I can’t legally represent you anymore.”

“Oh,” your mouth fell open before you could spray some cream onto your tongue, “when were you going to tell me this?”

“I’m telling you now,” he crossed his arms as he shifted them further over the island, “I thought I’d give the good news first.”

“And the bad?” you put down the can of cream as you neared the marble across from him.

“I have several requests for interviews and I think you should do at least one,” he said, “I know you hate reporters and all that but… with a little Rogers baby on board, it’s just another part of the process.”

“Oh, and what should I tell them,” you edged around the counter towards him, “that I moved? That I found someone better?” He turned to you, his lips curved as he leaned in and you turned your face up to peck his lips, “or maybe I should tell them I’m single? Keep the intrigue?”

“As long as you tell them I’m handsome, I don’t mind,” he purred as he placed his hand on your side.

“Oh, how could I leave that out?” you cooed and kissed him again, “patient, loving, kind… but what a geek?”

“A geek?” he smirked and framed your chin with his hands, “says the dungeon master.”

You giggled and ran your hands up his chest, “someone’s gotta raise this little bard well.”

“Oh, no, no, she’s not gonna be a bard. Maybe a cleric?”

“No way! That’s lame,” you chirped, “how about… a sorcerer? Ours is a bit lacking.”

“Excuse you,” he quipped, “what was your AC again? Maybe next session I’ll run out of healing spells.”

“See?” you taunted, “geek.”

You drew him to you until he was pressed to your belly and he swept you up in a kiss. You rocked with him as he turned you against the counter and slowly parted.

You squeezed his wrist as you went back around to your strawberries and cream. You took a spoon and scooped up a mouthful as you slid your phone towards you. Sasha stayed as he was, watching you scroll through the emails and piled up texts.

You stopped as one blared in all caps. There was no name, only ‘Private’. You opened the conversation and found a dozen bubbles; ‘THIS ISN’T OVER’, ‘HE CAN’T KEEP YOUR FROM ME’, ‘CUTE, YOU THINK PEOPLE BELIEVE YOUR SHIT.’ Another message blipped up, an image and you dropped your spoon as it opened.

You saw the picture of your sister and her son. You shook as you put your hand down on the counter and choked on the cream.

“What?” Sasha reached over and turned your phone to him, “Shit,” he sighed and blocked the number, “he’s just stacking the evidence against himself.”

“I--” you blinked as tears boiled behind your eyes.

“You don’t need to be afraid,” he screencapped the conversation, “this just makes the case even easier.”

“No, I will always be afraid of him,” you said as you touched your stomach, “it’s not just about me anymore.”

“And it’s not just you anymore,” he took your hand and rubbed the back of it with his thumb, “we’ve been through worse. If we can get through a cave full of orcs, we can defeat Steve Rogers.”

END (or is it?)

#steve rogers #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #steve rogers x reader #fic #dark fic #dark!fic #series #sugar daddy au #au #sugar daddy!steve Rogers #sugar sugar #marvel #mcu #captain america

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kyberphilosopher · 3 years

Text

Cerise

Those are people who died, died Those are people who died, died They were all my friends and just died.

Word Count: 5736 Warnings: Crime, Weapons, Mentioned Murder of a R/pist, Crude humor.

Jason’s friend and roommate, another Gotham villain, is ordered to return to Task Force X.

ce·rise/səˈrēs,səˈrēz/ [noun] a bright or deep red color.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Let’s open up our story on a colorful note: Fuck Amanda Waller.

Nobody likes her. You don’t like her. Jason doesn’t like her. None of the characters in this story like her. Arguably, none of the characters in your present universe like her, either. There’s a reason why people call her “The Wall”. It’s because that’s what it’s like talking to her. And that’s what it would be like trying to deny the request she’d passed on to you in her letter.

It weighed on your mind briefly as you walk up the stairs of your apartment building. By the third flight, the weight’s pretty much disappeared. Sure, there’s anger at Waller for violating your agreement, but it’s so useless being annoyed with her that it washes away fast. So by the fourth flight, the whole thing is settled in your head to completion. You’ll go back to your Suicide Squad- or a Suicide Squad, considering most people Waller selects are idiots. Then you’ll do the job, and walk away bing, bang, boom.

You tip your head politely as if in salute to the older woman, Mallorca, who occupies the apartment across from you. She returns a warm smile that raises her prominent and wrinkled jowls, igniting the fire in her warm brown eyes. “You need me to do your laundry again?”

Of course an angel such as Mallorca would make such an offer. It’s not a bad offer, either. Your dark, silver lined chest plate is splattered with blood all over the front. It’s nobodies blood that doesn’t deserve it, as per your agreement with Waller. Just some perverted little prick who thought with his dick instead of his brain with the wrong girl. She looked frightened, and you saved her, and since the prick had just hit 18 (a fact you learned after rummaging around his wallet after), you had permission to bash his brain in. Hence the blood splattered vigilante armor.

The first time Mallorca had seen such a sight, she had no reaction whatsoever. You weren’t sure what else you were expecting from an old woman living in a back alley apartment building, but it certainly wasn’t that. She offered no shock to your red masked, blood stained roommate either. Mallorca is simply an otherworldly being. And is that cocaine you see on the collar of her shirt?

“I got it,” you throw in return, rounding the corner so she’s at your back, and nearing the climb up the next and last flight of stairs. “Hey, is Jason home?” But when you turn around fully, Mallorca shows no intention of responding and has disappeared down your previous staircase. You clasp your hands against the sides of your thighs, “Oh, okay.”

You make your way up the final steps and stick a hand in a secret back pocket to fish around for your keys. You wince when you begin the rigorous task of tugging the lanyard free from the depths, which unfortunately fell near to your back hole. Then you slip the key into the lock and twist.

Inside your apartment is near emptiness. There’s a couch, a rug, some windows, a TV, and to your immediate right is a small kitchen beside a hallway that leads to a bathroom and two bedrooms. You see the large plant you’d stuck in the corner is wilted and tinged brown, and the TV is playing some movie with the sound muted. No sign of your roommate, however.

You toss your helmet and keys onto the couch. Then you make your way to the kitchen to search the fridge for a snack (that you know is not there) or perhaps some water. You bend down to peek an eye in, only to stand back up and close the thing. Then you pass over to the counter, and reach up to now peek an eye in the overhead cabinet.

“You’re home early.”

You let out a short-but cathartic- scream, jumping as you turn around. You relax quickly. It’s only Jason, and your face changes from shocked and panicked to simply annoyed.

The man at the other side of the room pulls his infamous red helmet from atop his face. Underneath is a classically masculine, handsome face with eyes that blend between green and blue. Black hair falls free in messy strands, accented by the one white tuft that you’ve claimed reminds you of a skunk. You tilt your head lazily in defeat. “How many times have I told you not to do that?”

Jason shrugs in his red hoodie and jeans, walking across the room to set the helmet on the coffee table. “Four. Any particular reason you’re home so early?” he flops himself onto the couch and kicks his feet up, crossing them tastefully next to the Red Hood helmet.

You turn back around to continue the task of grabbing a cup from the top cabinet. “It’s been five, and I apologize for assuming I could do what I wanted in my own home.”

“If you have to ask me to stop sneaking up on you five times, you’re probably a really bad vigilante.”

“Fuck,” you mutter as you fill the cup with tap water. “That’s true.”

You turn around to face Jason. His eyes are already on you, illuminated by the blue glow from the television. They linger purely on your form for a moment, then they dip down to narrow at your armor. “Were you the one who killed that guy on the back of main?”

You furrow your brows and look up with pursed lips in thought. “Are you talking about the main diner or the main records shop?”

“Main diner on main street.”

“No, that was Azrael. This was by the records shop.” You raise the glass to your lips.

Jason snaps his fingers. “Oh, that guy. The kid?”

You nod and take another sip of the water. “He just turned eighteen, so you know. Free game. So, what do you want for dinner? Pick something good. I’m going back to the squad so I won’t be here for a few weeks.”

Jason’s brows furrow for a split second, then he perks up attentively. “You’re going back to the task force?” he repeats, though it sounds defeated and disbelieving. Distraught- is that the word you’re looking for?

“Yeah,” you shrug. “I got the letter-” you set the cup of water down and reach a hand into your pocket. Then you pull the crumpled envelope free of its confines and toss it onto the counter, “-today.”

Jason’s eyebrows furrow again. This time the movement is quick and curved and almost offended. “So, that’s it then?”

“What’s wrong, Jason?” you smirk. “Did you finally fall in love with your roommate turned friend? I always knew this day would come.”

“Uh, no?”

“Suit yourself.”

You turn back around and begin rinsing the cup out. Jason watches your back, something in his chest sinking. You weren’t his best friend. Besides living together, you weren’t really all that close. You were living a life a lot like his, running around at night as some antihero vigilante. The only difference was that you’d crossed paths with Waller and had managed to make it out of her system alive. Most antihero vigilante’s weren’t so lucky. Most of them died. But now you’re telling Jason right to his face that you’re going back. That you think you’ll only be gone a few weeks when it could just be forever. Sprayed with dark blood all over... what if it was yours?

“Actually,” Jason leans forward. His legs drop from the table and spread open, elbows resting against his knees with a hunched back. “Why don’t you pick dinner tonight?”

The glass clinks against the metal of the sink as you set it inside. Jason almost always picks dinner. Most of the time he chooses burgers or Chinese. Your apartments stove isn’t working, so eating from home really just means a BLT sandwich for the both of you.

“Are you offering because you’re hoping I’ll choose that new steakhouse?” you smile.

“I’ll get you anything you want,” the man replies. “It’s on me.”

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

Jason meets you on the roof of the building about an hour and a half later. You wanted to go with him, since you’d say his behavior is different from usual, but he was very adamant about you staying in. Jason even encouraged you to go ahead and pick your favorite movie to watch while he’s gone.

When you told him you’d decided on the steakhouse option, you meant it ironically. Between the two of you, money could be described as ‘tight’. Going to a new place like that would mean saving for a while. Furthermore, you hadn’t even given him your order before Red Hood was gone.

To his credit, looking at him now, you wouldn’t change a thing. The first bite of the food is phenomenal. The second bite is just perfect. Jason must have mind reading powers to be so aware of your taste in food- you’d thought he never noticed.

He gets a steak, as predicted. Jason loves steak.

Gotham looks most like itself at night, a view shared between the two of you. Two sets of legs dangle over the side of your building, both of which are clad in heavy boots and armored knees. Jason had decided to go out as his alter ego- a fact he thought he could keep from you by putting his hoodie under his leather jacket.

“I saw you put your helmet by the door,” you tell him. “I know what’s under that sweatshirt.”

“No you didn’t,” is all he says back.

The wind tickles the back of your neck. It ripples through the air in lazy waves, making Jason’s hair ruffle. The white skunk streak disappears and reappears between the darker-than-midnight-sky strands. Behind Jason, the moon is full and lonely. Its only company is the two of you.

“Oh my god,” you stuff your mouth. “This is so good.”

“Hm,” Jason hums in agreement, stabbing his steak once again with a fork in his black to-go box. It’s the next movement of his shoulder that catches your eye.

“Jason, is that cocaine, or powder donut dust?”

Jason glances over at you.

Your eyes linger on the white splotch of something in the wrinkles of red fabric. “Because I asked you not to eat them since there’s only two left.”

Your face slowly falls to one of horror as Jason stays still. With a face of steel, he finally says, “It’s cocaine then.”

“Then?”

“Look what I got you.”

Jason sets his box to the ledge beside him and leans down.

“Worst subject change ever.” You take an angry bite of your meal in an attempt to both silence yourself and to make you feel better. Unfortunately as you pull away from the bite, crumbs attach themselves to your chest plate and stick to your fingers. “Crap. Jason, your dumb food is getting shit all over my stuff!”

When you look over, Jason’s orbs are already on you. His eyes pierce yours, almost unintentionally daring them to look away. The skunk strands glow this close. He holds two things in his hands. The first is a small, brown pot you could balance in the palm of your hand, filled with miniature yellow and red flowers. Scarlet tulips, golden sunflowers, and blonde alstroemerias. In the other hand is a Blu-ray copy of your favorite film.

“Oh,” is all you can muster out.

When was the last time the two of you had actually exchanged gifts? You weren’t lovers, or best friends. You were just friends. It had to have been last Christmas, when you had gotten him a TV subscription for South Park and a pair of socks. Jason had gifted you a new bedframe that he later helped you put together.

A big smile reaches your eyes and makes your cheeks sore. “I haven’t been able to find this anywhere,” you say, taking the movie from his fingers. Your voice comes out pure and genuine. “Thank you.” Your smile grows even larger when you cup the pot of flowers with both hands.

“All of the flower shops were closed,” Jason explains. “Those are plastic. They won’t die anytime soon.”

At that moment, you swear you could’ve kissed him. He’s looking at you like this is all nothing, like he didn’t just drop big money on dinner and flowers for you. Jason knew what food you wanted before you did. He knew your favorite movie when you can’t even remember saying a thing about it. When had any other man or woman been so thoughtful? So romantic? So caring?

You glance down to the film in your lap. “I didn’t think you payed attention this well.”

Jason’s brow quirks upwards. Something flashes in his eyes as he adjusts his position, seven stories up from the ground. “What kind of roomie would I be if I didn’t?” he asks. Something tells you there’s a shyness blooming in that broad chest of his. Jason’s eyes flit downward to the blood on you, before his head dips back upwards to lock a stare with you once more. “You smell nice,” he states.

You look up at him simply. You know your eyes are filled with pure adoration, and that it’s showing all over your face, but you don’t care. Your red hooded, drug pedaling, bat wrangling, gun toting equal roommate is your favorite person in all of Gotham at this exact moment.

Behind Jason, a small bird flits overhead with a flash of crimson. “Hey, look,” you pat Jason’s shoulder. His eyes follow yours until they land on the floor of the roof behind you. “I think it’s a robin.”

“I know that bird,” Jason scowls. “That’s the son of the bitch that keeps waking me up in the morning.”

“Hm?”

You watch as Jason swings his legs over the side and pushes himself from the ledge. One hand reaches into the back of his pants while the other searches his leather jacket pocket for something. After a few seconds, he produces both a clip of ammo and a gun, which connect with a click.

“Ah!” you yelp, placing both the flowers and movie on the brick before copying your friends actions and standing on the roof. Jason hasn’t shot yet, but the gun in his hand is aimed right at the little birdie. He’s got a clean shot. His face remains neutral and unmoving as you take your place beside him.

It’s a full minute, and the robin is still alive and intact. He nibbles on a little crumb of bread. “He looks happy,” you think out loud. The air of Gotham goes quiet up on that roof, despite the distant sirens, music, and people throughout the city. “Are you gonna shoot?”

Jason’s finger lingers over the trigger. Even the slightest of a squeeze would set the weapon off at this point. The balls of your feet move to and froe, anticipating the bang you’re so familiar with. But then Jason lowers the gun completely, and the robin flies away at the movement. “Nah. He’ll feel the pain I dish out in the morning.”

“Don’t be sad,” you nudge Jason. “He’ll be back at six AM tomorrow to wake you up.” You turn to return to your beckoning food on the ledge. “Thanks for all this, anyway.”

“You’re welcome,” you hear Jason respond. “Hey Y/N?”

Jason watches you spin until you’re completely facing him. He can see the blood again. How it’s completely standing out against the darkness of your outfit. You look powerful, yeah. And you look like the antihero you’re labeled as. But all Jason sees is a corpse of a... of a friend. “Yeah?”

“You’re sure about this Waller thing?”

“Yeah?” you reply, as if it were obvious. The stain on you is so haunting it’s easy to think otherwise. “It’s not like I have much of a choice. It’ll only be a few weeks. I’ll be back before you know it. Then I can show you this sick ass movie.”

Then you go back to walking towards the ledge to retake your seat. But Jason remains standing. He watches as you, the person he thinks of naked so often, get comfortable, your back facing him. And, despite your word, Jason has the sinking feeling that some Suicide Squad mission isn’t the only place Amanda Waller will send you to.

This time, Amanda Waller will send you to your grave.

.✫*ﾟ･ﾟ｡.★.*｡･ﾟ✫*.

This was supposed to be out on August 16th, for Jason’s birthday. But the concept came to me too late and I spent too long on it. Anyway, here’s some symbolism for ya.

Tulips symbolize unconditional love. Sunflowers symbolize adoration. Alstroemeria’s symbolize devotion. The reader describes the plant in their apartment as turning brown, suggesting it may share a similar fate as the reader as plants go brown when about to die. Robin’s symbolize optimism, a trait the reader displays towards the idea of returning to the Suicide Squad. Robin was also a former identity of Red Hood. Both of which could be why Jason decides to spare the bird.

I’ll go back and proof read this in the morning.

226 notes · View notes

whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years

Text

tuxedo, m | myg

pairing(s): yoongi x reader, mentions of previous jungkook x reader

summary: Your cat turns into a man. No, not, your cat was always a man and turned back into a man. Your actual cat turns into an actual man and neither you or your cat (man? cat-man?) have any idea why he's human now. Also, he's naked, so that’s a problem. Also, he’s kind of attractive. Yikes.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of the coronavirus pandemic; possibly full-on crack; Yoongi still thinks he’s a cat; mentions of smut (fem reader, m-receiving oral (choking on a dick, but not in a sexy way), doggy, spanking, wall-fucking, unintentional??? voyeurism); non-idol!AU - cat!Yoongi x human!reader; ft slightly cocky Jeon Jungkook and you being mad horny for him, what’s new; breaking of the fourth wall; are YOU a furry? you decide

an anon asked for cat hybrid Yoongi, although instead this is some voodoo witch doctor shit, whoops yes, I do reference BT21, Bob Ross, the lady-pointing-to-the-cat-accusingly meme, list goes on... and there is a cameo of 2021 Seasons Greetings Kim Taehyung and Park Jimin XD

Your lungs were being crushed.

You were bundled in your duvet, wrapped like a mint-colored burrito, on your back, head nestled comfortably in your memory foam pillow. Warm, cozy, snuggly. All things considered, a comfortable position. So comfortable that you were blessedly asleep for many hours until your lungs started getting crushed.

You cracked one eye open.

A giant tuxedo fluffball was causing this slow and painful death.

“Get off.”

You glared with slitted eyes, voice cracking from sleep. The fluffball did not move. Velvety, pointed black ears flicked back and forth. The little pink nostrils flared a bit, breathing evenly and contentedly. At least one of you was. You grunted in irritation. The minty-green eyes opened, black slits for pupils.

“I’m going to die.”

Your cat meowed in your face.

“Shut the fuck up. Get off.”

He yawned.

You narrowed your eyes and lips into lines. Stared at your insufferable, not-so-subtle tuxedo cat that was killing his owner. How long had he and his seven-kilogram ass been sitting on your tits? Too long because your sternum was already aching. You rolled over and he gave you a disgruntled meow as he tumbled off. You pulled your arms out and gave him a soft scratch behind his ears before reaching around to his white belly and patting his chest. He started purring, rolling to his side, white sock-like paws sticking up.

“Ugh, my chest hurts, Shooks. You’re a dick.”

Your cat gave zero fucks.

You were still petting him. Sigh.

“I’m getting up,” you announced to no one except your cat.

You tugged yourself out of your comfy, mint-colored duvet and winced, rubbing your breastbone. Did you buy this bedding set because it reminded you of your cat’s eye color? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In your defense, you hadn’t meant to become a crazy cat lady. You were innocently walking on the street when the tuxedo-patterned cat started following you. A large cat with big minty eyes surrounded by black fur like black bangs. White snout and jaw, pink nose, and a raspy meow. The tuxedo pattern was pretty similar to an actual suit, with a white chest and black fur over its back and limbs. White, sock-like paws, on the bigger side. Cute pink toe beans too. At the time, he was skinny and dirty, no collar around his neck, but you could tell he was long-limbed. He had a cut on his right eye, caked with blood.

“You alright, little guy?”

The cat seemed to scoff at you disapprovingly, as if to say, do I seem like a little guy to you?

“I guess you’re not a little guy. You have an owner?”

The cat’s response was headbutting your calf.

You took him back to your apartment and then it was doomed.

Why was his name Shooks? Well, actually, your cat’s name was Shooky, and it was because you tried many names to get him to respond to you – including, but not limited to, “you little shit” – and he responded to none of them except Shooky. For some reason, Shooky made him turn his black-and-white face around and look at you.

Shooky it was.

The first encounter was cute, but after you had fed him and given him a few pats, you gave him a good, hard taste of reality. Shooky was very upset about getting a bath for the first time. There had been a lot of angry meowing, although thankfully he hadn’t swiped at you very much. As soon as you got mostly undressed and sat in the bath with him, he seemed to relent. Maybe it was because you closed the glass door and he couldn’t leave.

“Do you see how dirty you are? You need a bath.”

He gave you a disapproving meow.

“Look, I even bought pet shampoo and you’ll get treats after. Come on, you.”

He was very displeased.

In any case, Shooky was now your primary companion, a large, long-limbed, fluffy tuxedo cat, following you around as you brushed your teeth and made breakfast, his new black collar jingling with a tiny silver bell. Every morning, you handed him his dry food first – he chomped down immediately – and made yourself some breakfast as he ate. Somehow your life now revolved around him, spending time looking up the best cat food (without paying an arm and a leg, you weren’t a sugar momma), making sure he was brushed (his hair got everywhere), telling everyone you needed to get home because you couldn’t miss his dinnertime (if you were a second late opening the door, Shooky would start meowing very exaggeratedly, like he was dying, what a drama queen). Was he annoying? Yes. Was he the best cuddle buddy? Also, yes. Kind of like a boyfriend, but better, because Shooky didn’t talk back.

You arranged your small dishes on the table. Tofu. Eggs. Pickled squash. Just enough for one. You sat down, holding your bowl of steamed rice.

A tuxedo furball jumped onto the table, licking his chops.

“Look here, this isn’t for you. Shoo.”

He settled onto the tabletop and stared at you as you ate.

Sigh.

Live with a cat was pretty similar to life without one.

Except for that weird habit Shooky had of sitting on your bathroom rug when you got out of the shower, scaring the shit out of you the first time. You lived alone, so you didn’t really bother closing doors, but you considered changing that. But it was just a cat. Also, he walked in here of his own volition. Not your fault if his eyes were scarred.

Shooky was a normal cat, but also a weird cat.

He slept a lot. Normal. He bit his paws sometimes. Weird. You figured maybe it was his nails, so you learned to trim them and he seemed better about it, but sometimes when he was stressed, you would notice fur missing from his little white socks. A lot of things could stress a cat. The internet taught you that. You brought him toys and played with him, but mostly he seemed to want you to sit down so he could plant himself in your lap. This make life rather difficult, so you decided it was time to invest in Netflix so you could at least use your time wisely.

This was for your cat, remember.

Yes, binging shows on Netflix was for your cat.

The weirdest thing was…

Shooky was always stressed when you invited a man into your home.

Maybe he didn’t like men. Something in his past, maybe? Could be. Come to think of it, did you even like men? That was a question for another day, but in any case, your cat always gave you this accusing stare when you brought a guy over, no matter how nice the guy was, even if the guy petted him very gently. Shooky never attacked them. He just glared at you like you had betrayed him somehow. How could that be?

What a needy drama queen.

You figured, eh, it didn’t really matter. He wasn’t trying to sabotage your chances of finding true love and all that stuff.

Who are we kidding?

You’d settle for a simple good dicking.

Well, there was that one time.

That time you were in the middle of giving a guy a blowjob. It was going great. You were naked, he was naked, he had a tattooed arm – hot as fuck – and he was very vocally enjoying your tongue technology. Hey, you didn’t have many talents, but you had that going for you. Even if a guy was mildly apprehensive about banging you, once you got your mouth on his dick, it was game over. You mentally patted yourself on the back for doing such a good job.

Positive reinforcement, right?

Annnnnnnd then…

Your cat jumped onto your back and made you choke on his dick.

“Urk!”

“Oh, fu–”

All seven kilos right between your shoulder blades. Oof.

“Are you okay?” He was half-worried, half-laughing, and Shooky was climbing up your back, pressing onto your neck, one paw on the nape, trying to murder you by dick suffocation. It took both of you to lift you off the dick – sad – and Shooky left a few scratches on your neck, as if to communicate his distaste of your infidelity. The guy was really nice about it. Actually, he found it hilarious. You scowled at Shooky and he gave you that deadpan stare that all cats seemed to have. The rest of the night was hot and heavy like you wanted and you even eventually got to complete said blowjob, which brightened your spirits.

It was a little disorienting that your cat was watching you from his cat tree the entire time.

Creep.

Honestly, you would have kept dating that guy if he didn’t move to a different city. Sigh.

Eventually, you stopped bringing men over.

One, because Shooky. Two, because worldwide pandemic.

Sigh.

The night that changed everything was ordinary.

Too ordinary.

You were passed out on the couch, halfway into season six of American Horror Story, somewhat peeved because you wanted to watch the other seasons, but geez, season five had such a poor story and hard focus on gore that it slightly turned you off. That it was a lot, even for you. Season six was better, but slow. The first four seasons had really hooked you and the idea of them all being connected? Nutty. You wanted to watch all of it.

Idea of season five? Awesome.

Lady Gaga? Yeah, why not, you’d be seduced.

Execution? Eh… could be better.

Shooky hadn’t watched any of it. He just slept in your lap.

Subtitles really helped you out here. You didn’t understand how the English-speaking audience could hear the whispering parts, but maybe that was because your English was garbage. You could read better than listen.

At the moment, you weren’t reading shit.

You were half-tucked in a fuzzy black blanket with a tuxedo cat pattern. Did you see the tuxedo cat pattern and buy it immediately? Yes. Were you a crazy cat lady? Maybe. In any case, your head was cocked at an awkward angle on the couch cushion and your mouth was open, snoring away. Attractive. You were wearing mint-colored, striped pajamas, one arm hanging off the couch and the other on Shooky’s furry butt, because you had been petting him.

Netflix was doing that annoying thing where it was asking you if you were still watching or not.

You couldn’t respond.

Shooky was awake.

Your cat was staring at your laptop on your coffee table. It was open. An HDMI cable connected it to your television. Not a clean setup, but an effective one. Again, you lived alone. Who was going to judge you? Your tuxedo cat?

Pfft.

Your cat was awake.

He got off your lap and hopped to the coffee table, peering at your laptop. Then he did what any sensible cat would do.

He walked all over your keyboard.

Circling around and around, smashing all the buttons with his cute pink toe beans, looking for a comfortable spot before settling down and planting his fluffy body on top of it. Windows closed, tabs appeared, the volume got muted, your display settings got fucked, the usual.

The unusual part was that your cat was looking at the screen.

Your internet browser was open.

A video was playing on a mysterious website.

A handsome young man with a boxy smile was wearing a sienna floral dress shirt and sunglasses, oddly paired with flared violet pants. He was standing next to another young man with an angelic face who, for some reason, was wearing a pastel floral handkerchief around on his head and a white-and-navy tracksuit with black, red, and green stripes. They were standing in some weird set with a black tablecloth covered round table and a lavender crystal ball, crystal-like beaded curtains glinting in strangely colorful lighting.

There was no volume.

Your cat tilted his head at the screen, curious.

The man with the boxy smile was speaking excitedly, gesturing to the angelic-looking man who seemed to be in awe. A retro, old school graphic popped up, flowers surrounding a blocky orange and green serif font, mildly tacky but somehow endearing in its own way.

COULD WISHES REALLY BE GRANTED?

Your cat tilted his head the other way.

Your cat didn’t know Korean.

… Right?

Well, you did mostly speak to him in Korean. Maybe he was secretly fluent. He definitely knew, don’t fucking do that, because you would witness him doing the very thing you told him not to do right after you said it. Bastard. But you couldn’t bear witness to this now. You were knocked out on the couch.

Zzz.

Boxy-smile guy placed his fingers elegantly on his forehead, mock dismay on his features, acting as if he couldn’t believe the viewer’s skepticism. Angel-looking guy placed his hands in prayer position, the text now reading, I won’t believe you unless you prove it! Boxy-smile guy flourished to the camera, showing off his brilliant pearly-white smile, mouthing words unheard. Text appeared once more.

Make a wish, any wish!

Your cat closed his eyes and appeared to be asleep.

The video turned black and disappeared into purple sparkles.

Your internet browser unexpectedly closed.

You woke up with a painful stitch in your neck and Shooky nowhere to be found.

“Fuck…”

You tried to get up, but underestimated the cramp in your back and fell onto the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!”

You blamed the pandemic for fucking up your sleep schedule. Also, getting old. Fuck getting old and being an adult. Time didn’t stop just because you didn’t go to work. Well, not true. You did go to work; your work was just different now. You were YouTube video editor, which meant you were mostly edited video game montages now instead of travel vlogs. The work was slower now. People were getting discouraged, taking breaks, because, you know.

Pandemic.

Sigh.

Anyway, not the point. You were grateful that your work was mostly internet and computer-based. Not everyone was so lucky. You were also grateful that you didn’t work in an industry that was too negatively affected by the pandemic. It had started off as a hobby, but then the creators you were helping unexpectedly blew up, needing your help more and more. You fell into it by accident, but that’s how life was. Happy little accidents. You couldn’t complain. As long as you had some income to feed your cat and you, that was enough.

Speaking of cat.

“Shooky?”

No meow.

Huh.

He normally would meow or trot over to you when called. He was weirdly affectionate like that.

You were still on the floor, on hands and knees, crick in your neck and back aching. Ah yes, age was just a number until your back pain flared up due to repeated nights of unintentionally falling asleep on the couch. Lovely. You stretched out your back with a groan and yawned, cracking your neck.

“FUCK!”

That hurt. Ugh, you really needed to stop sleeping on the sofa. You untangled yourself from your blanket and headed to the bathroom, rubbing your neck. You still didn’t see your fluffy, seven-kilogram, kind-of-an-ass tuxedo cat, but whatever. He had to be in the apartment. He couldn’t exactly leave. He was a cat. What was he going to do, grow legs and opposable thumbs?

Pfft.

You shoved your toothpaste-covered toothbrush in your mouth and began brushing your teeth. You hummed, trying to remember if you had any deadlines. Eh, they were on your Google calendar. You would check it after washing up. You spat and brushed for a few more minutes, thinking about nothing. This was nice. Sometimes it was nice to think about nothing. No major problems to address, simply a chill and routine morning.

Seemed sufficient.

You reached over to the spit cup and put some lukewarm water in it before taking your toothbrush out and sipping some water to gargle the minty suds out.

You heard a deep, raspy voice call your name.

“Hmm?”

You looked in the mirror.

Wait.

Your mouth was full of dirty toothpaste water, cheeks puffed out.

The voice called your name again, quietly.

Nervously.

Your eyes widened, staring into the mirror in shock.

A pale man was standing behind you, wearing your mint-colored duvet over his shoulders. Messy black hair to his rounded cheeks, dark brown cat-like eyes, small pink pout. His nose was a little red, as if he was cold. There was a black choker on his neck, with a silver bell. He was taller than you, and he looked very confused.

Also.

Pointed, velvety black ears on top of his head, white tufts of fur sticking out, flicking back and forth.

You spat all over your mirror in shock.

“Urk–!”

The man jerked back as you threw your head into the sink, hastily taking another cupful of water to rinse out your mouth because, WHAT THE FUCK WAS GOING ON? Why was there a man in your apartment? With fucking cat ears? That moved? What kind of kinky shit was that? Were you dreaming? What the fuck?! You grabbed the hand towel from its hook and furiously wiped the dirty water off your mirror, completely convinced you were having sensory and auditory hallucinations. Did you drink last night? Accidentally buy groceries laced with LSD? Snorted three kilos of cocaine off a hooker? Who the fuck knows, but there was no fucking way that you let some fucking man in your home, because, one, pandemic and, two, Shooky–

You froze.

The pale man with black hair was still there, standing in the doorway of your bathroom, looking slightly disgusted, but also scared.

He said your name again. A question, almost like a raspy meow.

It was…

Familiar?

You violently wiped your bathroom mirror some more, nearly cracking the glass.

The man was still there, wearing your mint-colored duvet.

Slowly, slowly, you turned around to face this man, your neck cracking loudly, sending searing pain up the back of your head and reminding you that, nope, this is not a dream, and if it was, it was a very shitty dream because at least in a dream you shouldn’t actually feel pain. You looked up at this man, at his fluffy black bangs shading his dark attentive eyes and pale face, chewing on his lip, clutching your duvet around his body like a giant mint cloak.

The cat ears on his head twitched.

“Uh…”

You blinked at him, watching the ears.

“Do… I know you?”

He gave you an eerily recognizable deadpan stare. “I think you do.”

No way.

What?

No.

This wasn’t possible.

You’re drunk, high, or in purgatory.

(You did have sex before marriage.)

“S… Shooky?” you croaked.

The man took a deep breath and shook his head.

“Actually, my name is Min Yoongi.”

You blinked at him. “What? You have a name?”

He shrugged. “Yeah, I guess.”

Relief washed over you. “What do you mean, you guess? That means you’re a human being! With a birth certificate! Thank God, I thought you were my fucking cat for some reason, haha, that’s so fucking ridiculous–!” For some reason, the idea of a random stranger being in your home was much more comfortable to you than you damn cat becoming a human being, because for a hot second, you thought… but no, no, that’s stupid. “Speaking of ridiculous, these ears are crazy dude, they look almost real–”

You reached up and yanked on one of the velvety ears.

“Ow, what the fuck!”

Oh.

Oh my God.

OhmyfuckingGodthey’reattachedtohishead.

“What the FUCK?” you bellowed and a large pale hand shot out of the duvet to clamp one of his cat ears down, shrinking away from you.

“Stop yelling, please, I have sensitive hearing,” Yoongi winced, ticking his head, as if he was trying to flatten the other ear too, but couldn’t. His other hand was holding tightly to the mint duvet.

You saw a glimpse of a pale chest.

Your eyes widened into the size of saucepans.

His hand darted back into the duvet and clamped it shut from your bulging eyes, frowning. He quickly bundled himself up and straightened, thinning his mouth into a line. A few seconds passed. You gawked at him, jaw slack. The pale man sighed heavily.

“My name is Min Yoongi. My parents gave me that name. I don’t think I have a human birth certificate because I’m not a human. I am a cat. You used to call me Shooky, but Min Yoongi is my name, so I would appreciate it if you called me by my given name.”

Your jaw went even more slack.

“Cats… have names?” you squeaked.

Yoongi made a face at you. “Of course, we do. We are not savages.”

“B… But…” You frowned, shoulders falling. “You seemed to like the name Shooky…”

Yoongi shrugged his duvet-covered shoulders. “It sounded better than all the other names you suggested.”

You puffed your cheeks, placing your hands on your hips. “What was wrong with Tata? Or Chimmy? Or Cooky?”

Yoongi gave you a disapproving glare. “Well, perhaps in a parallel universe the name Shooky is somehow important to me. In any case, it was the best suggestion.”

You narrowed your eyes, frowning. “You little shit.”

“I especially disliked that one. Seemed a bit discriminating to our size difference…” He paused, looking down at you. “At the time anyway.”

Your hands fell, looking up at your cat. Er. Min Yoongi. “So, uh… Yoongi…?”

He tilted his head, peering curiously at you under his black bangs. “Hm?”

You pointed at him, gesturing up and down. “Why are you, uh… a man?”

He looked down at the duvet covering his body. You stared at your bedding wrapped around him. Why was he wearing it anyway? In fact, all you could see was a black choker with a silver bell. The mental lightning bolt suddenly hit you. Oh. Your neck began to heat. Your ears began to heat. Your whole face began to heat. Oh. Oh? Oh! Shooky – er, Yoongi? – whatever, your cat didn’t wear clothes. He only wore a collar… which meant…

It felt like your whole body was on fire with abrupt realization.

Yoongi looked up at your mint-pajama-wrapped, now tomato self still pointing at him.

“I don’t know why I’m a man.”

One of his eyebrows raised. Then Yoongi smirked.

An open-mouthed, amused smirk.

“And yes, I’m naked. Your clothes don’t fit me. I tried.”

Your cat, er, man? Cat-man? What even... never mind, Min Yoongi was sitting on your bed, still wrapped in your mint duvet like a key lime cake roll, waiting as you rummaged around in your dresser, searching for literally any piece of clothing that might possibly fit him. The problem was, you worked from home, so you didn't exactly own a plethora of different clothing options. Your daily wardrobe consisted of slinky black leggings...

"They're stretchy?" you suggested timidly.

Yoongi had blinked at you. "I don't think so."

"It could work?"

He pursed his lips together. "I think you're forgetting something."

You gave him a blank look. "Huh?"

Yoongi gave you his deadpan stare. "I believe you are well acquainted with human male genitalia."

Oh.

Right.

He had a dick.

You turned red and robotically shoved your leggings back into their place. A sudden thought flitted across your brain and you spun back to face him, blurting it out before filtering yourself.

"Hahaha, good thing I never got you fixed, eh?"

Yoongi blinked very, very slowly. It was hard to tell if he was annoyed, amused, or wanted to murder you. In conclusion, typical cat behavior.

"I'm not fond of the idea of castration, so I suppose so."

Awkward.

Your vet had suggested it, but since he had been an indoor cat and you weren't intending on getting another, you figured you wouldn't put him under the unnecessary surgery and it would help you avoid the cost. A little irresponsible? Maybe. But you were very careful not to leave the front door open and, so far, he hasn't had the chance to get some poor lady cat knocked up.

Unfortunately…

He knew you considered permanently removing his nuts. Yikes.

Sorry, Shooks. Er, Yoongi.

In any case!

The other half of your daily wardrobe was sweatshirts, but Yoongi's shoulders were too broad for them and he was too tall. Why was he so big anyway? Well, he wasn’t exactly big, just long-limbed. You guessed he was actually on the leaner side, judging from the way the duvet wrapped around him and the brief flash of long fingers, slim forearm, and toned chest. He had been a larger cat.

Seven kilos turned into... him?

You suddenly started and yanked open your underwear drawer, shuffling through it to get to the back and pull out a neatly folded dark gray blob.

"I have this–"

"No."

The response was so forceful and dismissive that you froze, the dark gray fabric unfurling in your loose grip. It was a large men's sweatshirt, soft, charcoal, slightly acid-wash, covered with white paint stains. Eggshell white, to be exact. The exact paint color of this very bedroom, because you had worn it to repaint over that original disgusting beige color.

"Why not?" you inquired, holding it up by the shoulders. "It'll fit you, for sure. It used to be..."

Yoongi kept his completely neutral expression trained on you as you reached your revelation, his dark eyes observing every detail of your body's reaction to the memory. Your grip on the sweatshirt tightened. You felt your cheeks and ears heat, pulse roaring in your ears.

Oh.

Er, right, so…

That one time that Shooky – no, Yoongi? – jumped on your back and made you choke on a dick? Yeah, that guy. Tattoo guy. Yeah, well, before that incident, tattoo guy was the friend of a friend who offered to help you paint your apartment because he had experience working construction – “helped my dad fix-up a house to resell for a couple months,” he had said with his disgustingly cute, cheeky grin, making you nod like an idiot and your pussy throb with his endearing adorableness – and you had moved all the furniture out so you two could get it done quickly.

You had to put your cat in the bathroom.

You didn’t want him to breathe in the fumes or get paint on his luscious fur. It was for his own good.

Tattoo guy had appeared in said charcoal sweatshirt, black ripped jeans, and the most attractive thighs in the whole damn universe, just out and about, giant holes exposing tan skin and taut muscle. Your eyes widened, frozen at your front door.

Oh yeah, he had paint rollers too. You hadn’t given a shit about those in that moment.

He had noticed you staring and laughed sheepishly. “Sorry, I just wore the ugliest pants I own. It might get messy, you know?”

No, tattoo guy. No one thought your pants were ugly.

You sure as hell didn’t.

“Oh, yeah, that’s why I wore this gross t-shirt,” you said absentmindedly, referring to your four-sizes-too-large, free t-shirt that had been chucked at your head while walking past your university common area. It was a hideous chanteuse with magenta writing, a color combination that absolutely deserved to go to hell, and could not even be saved by the quirky, stylish, thrift-savvy TIkTokers of today. It was the ugliest thing you owned, so you wore it to repaint your bedroom.

Now you regretted it.

Tattoo guy looked you up and down. He smirked under his long black hair.

“Your body still looks great though.”

“… Urk?”

Didn’t really matter that you couldn’t conjure a sexy response, because, clearly, tattoo guy had made his decision leagues before arriving here. Painting a bedroom? Oh, yeah, you did that, and with way too much sexual tension. A man should not be that flirty while holding two paint rollers and speed painting your walls. What were you supposed to do? You barely knew the guy. All you managed to do was make awkward small talk to get to know him better. Then he took off his sweatshirt.

“Wait, that’s illegal.”

He had smirked at you, spinning the paint roller in his hand, white t-shirt molded to his body. “Hm?”

You were being mildly disrespected, but also you were gawking at his tattooed right arm and his blindingly beautiful forearms. Cough, no. You didn’t have a thing for attractive forearms. Wasn’t like staring at this muscular pair was making you weak at the knees or anything. Okay, maybe. But you weren’t going to say it out loud. Tattoo guy ticked his chin below you, to the floor. Your job was to paint the little nooks at the corners, ceiling, and baseboards. You spent a whole lot of your job sneaking glances at him and getting caught.

Shit.

“You missed a spot.”

You whipped your head to the floor, craning your head to look for it. A paint roller appeared beside you, pointing to a small sliver for nasty beige. He had a clear, silvery voice.

“Right here.”

You frowned at it and raised your paintbrush in warning to the offensive beige, ready to strike.

“… Noona.”

You started and fell over.

You sputtered, legs tangled, oversized shirt flipping up, trying not to drop the paintbrush and drawing a fat streak across the unpainted wall. You shook your head roughly, clutching the handle of the brush, cool draft floating up your shirt.

Tattoo guy appeared above you, grinning, his front teeth slightly too large and giving him the appearance of a rambunctious bunny.

“You alright?”

You felt your neck and ears heat. No, you were not alright. Yes, you were older, but that didn’t… that wasn’t the time… You didn’t expect it, that’s all. You tried very hard not to look at his thighs. Or his face. Or his chest. Just didn’t look at him. Also, you were pretty sure you were flashing him and pretty fucking sure you didn’t give a shit.

You coughed awkwardly. “Yup, I’m good.”

Back to copious sexual tension complemented by paint fumes.

Once the first coat was down, you two stood in the center of the room, surrounded by the plastic drop cloth, him banishing a paint roller and you a paintbrush. Challenge complete and it didn’t take you very long. Nice.

“We have to let it dry and then we can paint another coat,” he was explaining.

“It looks fine like this.”

Tattoo guy clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “Once it dries, it will look uneven. Trust me.”

You frowned. “Okay. How long should we wait?”

“Couple hours, at least.”

A couple hours? You frowned more. “What are we supposed to do until then?”

He didn’t reply. You turned your head to face him and tattoo guy was staring at you with a smile.

Uh oh.

He was spinning the paint roller with one hand. You felt your ears and neck heat. He switched from his left hand to his right, seamlessly. Incredibly sexy. Were the paint fumes getting to you? You gulped, awkwardly gesturing to the paintbrush.

“Let me just… put this down…”

You turned around and balanced your paintbrush in the paint tray, only to gasp as your felt something foamy roll down your back, covering you with the strong stench of paint. It stopped above the curve of your ass, unable to roll smoothly any longer.

“Hmm, can’t get past your juicy ass, noona,” he teased.

You spun around, cheeks flushed, sputtering.

No, no. You didn’t forget tattoo guy’s name. You remembered it, even now. Remembered saying it in multiple different ways, even.

“Jeon J-Jungkook!”

In surprise, streaks of paint in your hair, him smirking, dropping the paint roller on the other plastic tray and somehow not tipping it over, thank goodness, him walking up to you, taking the bottom of your paint-covered chanteuse university t-shirt, leaning down to whisper hotly against your lips.

“Ah, sorry, it seemed like you didn’t like that shirt very much,” he breathed, sending your brain into overdrive with the heat against your skin, his knuckles brushing your thighs. “You can wear my sweatshirt instead, if you like.”

Your eyes widened, staring at him in shock.

“J… Jungkook…”

In breathlessness, heart pounding in your chest, gaze locked with mischievous dark chocolate orbs, his teeth catching his lower lip, tiny mole underneath revealed.

“Yeah?”

Why was his voice so deep? The tiny tip of his pink tongue darted out, licking his lips enticingly.

“… Noona?”

This man was illegal.

Your hands darted down and gripped his, catching your lower lip in your teeth as well, matching his lip bite, seeing the eagerness growing in his eyes.

Someone should call the police. Or an ambulance.

You grinned, cocking an eyebrow. “I don’t want to wear anything around you.”

But not for you.

There was a very loud meow from your bathroom, but before Jungkook could ask, you yanked your shirt up and over your head. He gasped and instantly it was lips on lips, messy kisses and stumbling to the living room were your bed, dresser, nightstands, bookcase, knickknacks, everything scattered everywhere, but Jungkook and you were too busy yanking off clothes and getting frisky to give a shit.

Yikes.

You stared at Yoongi now, red from head to toe, clutching the dark gray sweatshirt. He rolled his eyes and looked away from you.

“I… washed it?” you offered weakly.

Yoongi’s dark brows raised from under his black bangs. “Mmm, you forget that I have quite keen hearing. I’m not deaf like you, human.”

The color drained from your face.

Well.

Maybe, just maybe, Jungkook got you to wear his dark gray sweatshirt, forcing you – respectfully, he called you noona, after all – to get on your hands and knees for him, then make you wait in said embarrassing position with his sweatshirt bunched around your neck – because, er, gravity – while he casually made you watch him roll the condom on, highly amused by your impatient glare, only to move away and slowly shove his dick inside your soaking wet pussy and spank your ass until you backed up into him enough times to make yourself cum on his stiff length without him moving his hips.

Respectfully, of course.

“Fuck, noona, that was so fucking hot…”

“Jungkook,” you gasped breathlessly, ass stinging in glorious pain. “F-Fuck me, please.”

He made you scream.

He fucked your hard, making the bed creak, pounding you so roughly into the mattress that your fingers curled into the mint sheets, and when you gasped that you were close, he fucking stopped, the damn sadist, causing you to slam your fists into the bed and buck back into his crotch, Jungkook chuckling at your desperation. In your haze of begging for Jungkook’s cock, you heard a judgmental meow from your bathroom, but before you could address it, Jungkook seemed to have accepted your pleading and began to thrust into you once more, making you lose your train of thought and all thoughts in general, except your dire need to orgasm.

Jungkook had made you moan for hours.

Right now, however, Yoongi’s sharp look was making you mute. You were so mortified that you swore your soul stood up and walked out of your body, too ashamed to be in Yoongi’s presence any longer.

“Mmm,” the dark-haired man mused absentmindedly, pointed ears flicking.

From spitting onto the mirror to mentioning his possible castration to remembering that you had locked Yoongi in the bathroom for hours to have mind-blowing sex with Jeon Jungkook under the guise of repainting your bedroom walls…

Too bad life doesn’t have an undo button.

You suddenly remembered Jungkook pushing you up against the bathroom door, your leg hooked around his waist, his cock plunging in and out of you, lips on your neck, and your wrists pinned to the door, rattling it as he fucked you, whispering against your skin.

“You sound so fucking sexy, make more sounds for me, I’ll fuck you as much as you want, fuck you until you can’t think, can’t move, just to hear you say my name over and over…”

“Jungkook… f-fuck, you f-feel so fucking good, o-oh, Jungkook…!”

He pulled his lips away from your neck and smirked in your face.

“Yeah… noona?”

Respectfully.

“Fuck!”

Your back arced against the bathroom door as you came, pussy throbbing and spasming, the top of your head touching the wood, gasping Jungkook’s name in ecstasy, slamming your wrists against the door, Jungkook moaning as he came inside you, cock jerking inside the condom and swelling it with his orgasm, lips crashing down on yours and you whining pathetically into his mouth as he sucked on your tongue roughly.

A quiet, disapproving meow below you.

A master yikes.

You deliberately shoved the dark gray blob back into your underwear drawer.

Yoongi pursed his lips.

“Why is it in your underwear drawer, anyway?”

You slowly closed it, the wood snapping as the drawer touched the dresser.

Silence.

A crow cawed in the distance.

“You know what, let me make a trip to the convenience store…” was your hollow reply as you mechanically walked out of your bedroom, followed by a mint duvet.

“Do you know what size I would be?” came the husky, amused chuckle behind you as you pawed around your apartment for your wallet, two masks, hand sanitizer.

“I’ll just… buy a variety…”

“Or you could measure.”

You heard a rustle and you whipped your head around, only to see Yoongi’s cocked eyebrow and a slight bit of his exposed shoulders, collarbones on display, silver bell jingling. He yanked it back up, frowning at you.

“Are you a pervert?”

“N… no!”

You jerked away and hastily hooked the masks on your ears, fumbling with your sneakers before declaring, “I will be right back!” And then you threw yourself out the door.

Yoongi sighed, finally releasing his hold on the duvet.

“Ugh, so stuffy…”

His long black tail whipped about.

The door suddenly jerked back open and you plucked your keys from the side dish.

Only to see Yoongi fully naked, sleek black tail whisking around, blinking at you.

He was naked.

Really naked.

Very, one hundred percent, naked.

The mint duvet was pooled around his legs on the ground and Min Yoongi, who was formerly your cat Shooky, was a fair-skinned, long-limbed, lean-bodied, very attractive tall man, with velvety black cat ears and tail and – urk! – completely intact human male genitalia. Your neck, ears, cheeks, chest, ancestors from generations long ago, all turned red in embarrassment. Once again, you soul completely left your body in pure mortification.

“D… Don’t leave!” you blurted, snapping the door closed.

Yoongi just stood there, sighing as he heard the door lock and a body bolt down the apartment building stairs.

“You didn’t even change out of your pajamas…” he muttered, picking up the duvet.

"I can't wear these."

It was a few hours later. Thankfully, when you arrived home with your purchases, your cat... man was asleep, wrapped like a mint cake roll in your duvet. You tried not to think about his naked body on your bed, therefore ending up thinking about his naked body on your bed.

"You need to wear pants! For..."

Dark eyebrows raised.

"Decency!"

After getting home, you had spent the next thirty minutes hand-washing a black t-shirt, black boxer briefs, and loose black pants that were definitely too short but it was the only size available that could fit that waist, so you had to make do. You put the other shirts and underwear in the washing machine, but you needed to wash at least one outfit and hang it to dry. You tried to use the hottest water your hands could handle to sterilize the clothing, wincing at the blistering heat.

You didn't know if Yoongi could get coronavirus but you weren't going to risk it.

Eventually you placed everything on the drying rack and positioned your space heater on them to dry them off.

Then you passed out on the couch. You deserved it, after working so hard.

Only to be woken up by Yoongi poking your shoulder roughly and telling you he couldn't wear the underwear and pants.

He was still holding the duvet around his body and your neck was still regretting every second of sleeping on the couch. Ow. Too much physical labor. Quarantine had turned you into a formless potato. You sat up halfway, wincing. Ugh, pain. You jabbed your finger at Yoongi, who gave you a displeased narrowing of his eyes.

"Put the pants on, you animal!"

Yoongi swept around the sofa, mint duvet and all, determined glint in his dark orbs, lips pursed in annoyance. You started, cracking your neck by accident, yelping in pain as you fell back against the couch.

Yoongi planted himself on top of you nimbly.

You froze.

Partly because you were shocked, but mostly because your neck seized a bit.

His legs were on either side of you, body still wrapped up, perfectly balanced despite the sudden leap, surveying you with a disapproving and discerning eye. The silver bell on his neck jingled with his movement. You could feel his calves against your knees.

His bare calves.

"Are you dumb?"

"What?" you croaked in response.

Yoongi rolled his eyes. "You always forget things."

You blinked at him, confused, neck heating. "What are you talking about?" you snapped impatiently.

"This."

Thump.

You felt something long and furry hit your leg. Your body almost jerked up in surprise, but Yoongi hissed at you, making you lurch back, somewhat stunned at how cat-like it sounded. It was definitely a warning. You were still in your pajamas, slightly thinner material than your usual clothes. It had been cold outside, but your everlasting embarrassment had kept you toasty warm.

Like it was now, because you realized your clothed outer thigh was touching his inner thigh.

His naked inner thigh.

You let out a noise between shock and confusion.

"Urk?"

The long, furry thing brushed against your legs as Yoongi watched you reach your slow realization.

"O-oh... Right. You have a tail..."

He grunted, thinning his eyes into slits. "Yes, because I am a cat."

Highly debatable at the moment, but you were too busy remembering your cat also had a human dick and nuts. Well, not also. Only had? Well. Maybe if you had a seco–

No. No, never mind that. Yeah.

Never.

Mind.

You gulped, trying to suppress the rising heat in your ears and failing. "I can sew?"

Yoongi tilted his head, nose wrinkling a bit. Then he got off you, circling around the couch. You sat up, neck still hurting, but the warmth of your embarrassment somehow helping. Yes, great, trading temporary physical pain for lifetime mental embarrassment, only for such moments to be remembered at the most inopportune times to throw you off guard.

Awesome.

You visibly cringed before standing up, seeing Yoongi's hand snake out and nab the boxer briefs, making them disappear into the duvet. You saw the fabric rustle and then the briefs reappeared, chucked at your face.

Your head snapped back at the force, arms flailing.

"Mmphf!"

"Should be about four or five centimeters. Make it quick. It's hot under here."

You yanked the underwear off your face, scowling. "I'm not your maid!"

Yoongi raised an eyebrow, black ears flicking. He was smirking at you. You narrowed your eyes. What was this guy so high and mighty for? If anything, he should be grateful that you even car–

"You're been cleaning up my literal shit for a few years now, so you are practically are my maid."

... Wait a second, he's right.

You growled and hauled yourself up.

An hour later, your cat was dressed.

Cat?

Man?

Whatever.

Min Yoongi was finally wearing clothes and not your duvet and your fingers stung like a bitch.

You ended up snipping a hole and using bias tape to seal off the raw edges. You didn’t own a sewing machine, so this was the next best thing you could think of without destroying your fingers by trying to imitate zig-zag stiches, although you ended up destroying your fingers anyway because you had to sew small, delicate stitches to attach the bias tape. The area was too high traffic to not reinforce.

Sigh.

“Please tell me you know how to use the bathroom by yourself from now on.”

Yoongi had raised an eyebrow.

“Of course. I’ve watched you enough times to know how to expel human excrement.”

Right. Because he was your cat. Don’t think about it too much. You were trying to take everything one thing at a time so you didn’t overwhelm yourself. Those were future-you problems. Why does he talk like that anyway? You didn’t even know how he knew Korean. Was it because you watched too much television? Yikes.

You rubbed your forehead, dismissing the discussion. “Good talk.”

You realized you would have to cut openings for his tail for all the underwear on the drying rack but, again, that was a future-you problem. Instead, you let him change in your bedroom and went to retrieve the laptop on your coffee table. Plugged it in and turned it on.

All your settings were wack.

“The fuck?” you muttered, resetting your display, volume, brightness, sigh, nearly everything. This only happened when a certain someone stepped on the keys when you weren’t looking. You raised your voice, still looking at the screen. “Did you fuck with my computer last night?”

“No. Oh, well, I did sleep on it,” Yoongi was saying as he stepped out of your bedroom. You growled in your chest, annoyed, but setting everything back into its place before opening your Google calendar. Nothing due immediately, thank god. “Er, maybe you shouldn’t…”

You looked up.

Oh.

Oh?

Oh!

Yoongi mussed his black hair, scratching at his velvety black ear. You noticed he didn’t have a set of human ears. Well, duh. That’d be weird. He was still wearing the black choker with the little silver bell on it. The t-shirt was nicely loose on his frame, the black standing out against his fair skin. The sweatpants were a little short on the ankle, the slim fit showing off his leanness. The sleek black tail swished back and forth.

He was… handsome.

Yoongi looked apprehensive, twisting his lips to one side. “Hmm.”

You blinked at him. “What?”

He shrugged. “Well, when I woke up as a human, I was cold, except for…” His hand ghosted towards his crotch. He pulled it away, waving it aside. “Mmm, never mind.”

You gave him a confused look and went back to your keyboard, typing away. Yoongi winced but you were too busy replying to an email to think too much about it.

We interrupt your regularly scheduled program to inform you of the following.

Min Yoongi had woken up on the coffee table, fucking freezing because humans didn’t have fur, and because his nuts and dick were getting roasted by your overheating laptop keyboard.

Upon waking up, he had a mild mental breakdown as you continued snoring loudly and unceremoniously, before scurrying away to the warmest place he knew – your bed, where he claimed the duvet and tried to figure out what the fuck was going on.

Is this real life?

He had poked at various parts of his new body, trying to figure out if this was a dream or a horrific nightmare.

As we all know.

Life is a horrific nightmare, so indeed, this was real life.

You jumped as Yoongi slumped down on the sofa next to you, sticking his head and ears into your view, blocking the computer screen.

“I’m hungry.”

You gawked at him.

“What a-are you d-doing?” you sputtered.

“I’m hungry,” he repeated. He had a bit of a raspy, almost growly voice at times, reminding you of a cat’s meow. His meow, in fact.

You scooted away, neck heating. Yoongi followed, prodding you.

“Why are you like this?” you grumbled irritably, smacking his hand. Yoongi persisted, as if you did nothing at all.

“This is how I get your attention, because you humans will ignore me if I don’t.”

“You’re a human too!”

“No, I am a cat.”

“Hello?” You grabbed his hand and jabbed at his palm, pointing to his thumb. “Cats don’t have thumbs!”

Yoongi yanked his hand out, shockingly similar to how Shooky used to pull his paw out when you were massaging his little white socks and he was over it. You noticed his cuticles looked a bit dry and torn up. Lately, Shooky’s paws had been a little chewed up too. You frowned at it, tilting your head.

Yoongi stood up and his tail whacked you in the face.

“Ow!”

“Feed me.”

You scowled, rubbing your cheek. Yoongi stared down at you, face expressionless.

Okay, your cat might be a man now, but he was still a borderline asshole, so not much had changed.

“Fine.”

You both stared at the bowl of dry cat food.

Yoongi raised an eyebrow.

“What am I supposed to do with all this cat food then? I just brought it last week!”

“That’s your problem.”

You threw up your hands and cooked you both some lunch.

This was too much.

You know what you did when it was too much?

You took a nap.

You had dishes to clean, underwear to make tail-holes for, a cat that was now a man, an existential crisis to address, but you know what? You took a fucking nap instead. You left Yoongi with your computer and Netflix and told him to do whatever as long as none of it involved him leaving the house.

Yoongi had snorted. “What do I need to go out there for?”

“Awesome. I’m taking a nap.”

And you passed out.

Only to wake up groggily because your lungs were being crushed.

Actually no, it kind of felt like your whole torso was being crushed.

“Urk…!”

You fought with your sleepiness, somehow worse off than you had been before the nap, scrunching up your face ad blinking blearily. Head on memory foam pillow, check. Back on soft mattress, check. Black hair with sleek cat ears and pale face pressed on your chest? Check.

What, wait?

“Gah!”

You lurched and the head grunted, shoulders solidly pinning you down. He was under the mint-colored duvet. Yoongi, your cat that was now a man, was under the duvet.

UNDER THE DUVET.

“Stop yelling. Is that all you humans do? Yell?”

“Why are you – what are you doing here?” you hissed shrilly, trying to wiggle out from under him, but it was impossible. Yoongi was far too big now for you to throw him off.

“Sleeping, obviously,” he grumbled. “Or I was, until you started shouting.”

“Yes, but this is my bed,” you emphasized, realizing you could move your hands so you grabbed him by the waist, fingers grasping the black jersey fabric. You pressed inwards, hands molding to his sides.

Yoongi raised his head, squinting down at you.

You froze.

An oddly familiar gaze of accusation and uncaring. His eyes were dark brown, not the recognizable mint, but the effect was the same. Pink lips upturned, slightly annoyed.

And.

You suddenly remembered he was a man.

A man who was pressed down against you, long legs around your legs, broad chest to your chest, and shockingly attractive for someone who used to be a cat.

“I sleep in your bed all the time. What’s the difference?” Yoongi muttered.

What’s the difference?

The difference???

You’re a man!

A HOT MAN!!!

You struggled to find words, completely entranced by how close Yoongi’s face was to yours, watching his ears adjust slightly to pick up all the small sounds around him. You opened your mouth and it only made a tiny squeak. The pressure on your chest was becoming unbearable. You were so shocked that you completely forgot that you were still dying. You cleared your throat as Yoongi looked increasingly displeased.

“You… You used to be over the duvet…”

Yoongi yawned, nodding a little. “Yes, but it’s colder now. No more fur. I don’t know how you humans survive. Must be why you buy these warm things.”

Your hands were still on his waist. You pulled them away quickly and Yoongi frowned.

“Y-Yeah, but… you weigh a lot more now…” you croaked. “Can’t… breathe…”

Yoongi sighed heavily, as if this was a great disappointment. He slid off you.

“Hmm, I suppose that’s true.”

He nestled close to you and you still stunned, pin-straight body.

“Guess it’ll have to be like this instead from now on.”

Like this?

From now on?

Oh. Oh no.

Yoongi’s velvety, pointed ear flicked against your cheek, a low hum resounding in his chest.

part ii

masterpost

#yoongi x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fanfic #bts smut #yoongi fanfic #yoongi x you #min yoongi x reader #min yoongi x you #jungkook x you #jeon jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook x you

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itsclydebitches · 3 years

Text

I am briefly pausing my normal RWBY content to talk about something completely different: Kang Soo-Jin.

I binged True Beauty recently. As in, “I haven’t managed to watch anything new in half a year, discovered this drama, and promptly marathoned 14+ hours of content,” so to say I’m enjoying it is an understatement. I might do another post sometime about why I think the show works so well, but for now, like many (drama only) viewers, I’m specifically grappling with Soo-Jin’s descent into antagonist territory. At first I was just as shocked and disappointed as others seem to be, but upon reflection I don’t think this is badly written in the way many fans are claiming. To frame this as, “I can’t believe they would make wonderful Soo-Jin suddenly OOC and bully Ju-Kyung over a guy!” is ignoring core parts of her character. I’m as sick of the girl-hates-girl-over-guy plotline as the next viewer, but in the interest of acknowledging that there are exceptions to every rule, I think this is one of the times where that choice makes perfect sense.

Soo-Jin has been abused throughout her life and I’m not simply talking about the fact that her father hits her. Though that’s obviously horrific, what I think is more pertinent to this conversation is the intense competitiveness her parents have instilled in her. The physical abuse comes about because Soo-Jin fails (in their eyes) to be the best, which is where Ju-Kyung comes in. The Soo-Jin we knew in earlier episodes wasn’t faking. She isn’t an inherently evil person who was just waiting for the right time to show her true colors. Rather, at the start of the story Ju-Kyung—crucially—was not in competition with Soo-Jin. Or rather, Soo-Jin did not perceive her as competition. She’s after the best grades in the school and Ju-Kyung is notoriously at the bottom of the class. All she has going for her are her (new) looks and her easy-going personality that makes her popular, two things that Soo-Jin isn’t interested in. Even if she were, those things already come naturally to her too. She’s already friends with Soo-A and, as is commented on multiple times, naturally beautiful without any makeup on. Soo-Jin has been taught—literally had it beaten into her—that she must be the best and in the beginning of the show she pretty much is: popular, mature, confident, smart… just not the smartest in her class. Ju-Kyung doesn’t threaten any of that, so friendship initially comes easily for Soo-Jin, the sort of friendship that allows her to chase perverts off busses or hide her friend’s real face.

This changes once Soo-Jin’s “perfect” mask begins to slip. They’re heading towards college, she’s running out of time, and she still hasn’t managed to take the top spot in the class. Worse, she drops out of the top ten. This exacerbates the abuse to the point where, as we see, she’s constantly in the bathroom trying to cope by washing her hands. Any tiny deviation from that “perfection” — like, say, leaving your tutoring session when you realize your lifelong friend just got devastating news — results in the sort of yelling/physical abuse she can only escape from via a locked door. While things get worse on her end, they get better on Ju-Jyung’s. Her grades go up some and she becomes even more popular, attracting not only school-wide attention, but the attention of the two hottest guys too, including Soo-Ho. For a while this is still fine from Soo-Jin’s perspective, but things really take a turn when Ju-Kyung changes Soo-Ho. Meaning, she helps him come out of his shell and teaches him how to be a kinder person… which includes being a better friend to Soo-Jin. The Soo-Ho who suddenly lies and announces that they have to go study just to get Soo-Jin away from her father’s insults, all of it stemming from a small tick he paid attention to, or comforting her while she sobs over the abuse… that Soo-Ho didn’t exist at the story’s start. He was too wrapped up in his own grief and has been that way for a long time. They may have known each other since childhood, but Soo-Jin and Soo-Ho don’t appear to be particularly close in the past—all Soo-Ho’s flashbacks are with Seo-Joon and Se-Yeon. But that starts to change once Soo-Ho himself changes. Soo-Jin’s ability to keep it together is unraveling, Soo-Ho is opening up and becoming more emotionally available (something Soo-Jin even comments on), then her whole class starts eagerly talking up how good they would be as a couple… so Soo-Jin sees a lifeline. Soo-Ho will care for her even when no one else will. Of course he will. She’s already seen him be that person multiple times.

The problem is that Soo-Ho has his own life and his own problems to grapple with. Between grief over See-Yeon, panic over telling Ju-Kyung how he feels, and the initial rush of dating—what couple doesn’t want to spend all their time together at the start?—he doesn’t have much energy for Soo-Jin. Which from his perspective is fine. They don’t normally hang out together outside of study groups, so yeah, he can put off a conversation with her… not realizing that Soo-Jin is now putting all her emotional eggs in his basket. By the time her feelings are coming to light, Soo-Jin is actively sabotaging her own attempts to get attention and compassion from Soo-Jin. By manipulating them—here’s a new scrunchy to remind you that you’re my best friend and you can’t ever betray me, here I am showing up unannounced at your apartment and guilting you into not spending more time with me, etc.—Soo-Jin has put Soo-Ho (rightfully) on his guard. He’s wary of having a private conversation with her about something she won’t name when he knows Ju-Kyung has been a mess over losing her friendship. He has no desire to listen to her confession of love after she’s just tossed Ju-Kyung’s beloved necklace into the fire. In her efforts to ensure that Soo-Ho pays attention to her, she only succeeds in driving him away.

All of which makes Ju-Kyung the enemy in her eyes. The new competition. To her mind, friendship and love cannot co-exist because Ju-Kyung stands in the way of that love, therefore one has got to go. (In contrast Seo-Joon, coming from a loving family, is in time better able to accept that he can be friends with Soo-Ho even though he likes Ju-Kyung. We can discuss the problems inherent in giving one plot to the girl and the other to the guy, but as they are, these characters have concrete, in-world reasons for their different reactions to what’s essentially the same situation.) And why does love (“love”) win out over friendship? Because Soo-Jin has latched onto Soo-Ho being her boyfriend as the way to finally “win” at life and fix all her problems. It’s fine if she’s not the best provided she’s dating the best, just look at how much Dad fawned over him. Second place academically is suddenly an option provided the top student is on her team, so to speak. The fact that Soo-Ho is also one of the most handsome, a great athlete, super rich, and one of the few people to provide her with feelings of safety certainly doesn’t hurt matters. And the only thing that stands in her way of securing this life-saving “win” is Ju-Kyung. Who is she? No one compared to Soo-Jin. Her grades are terrible. She’s not wealthy. She’s pretty… but oh, only with her makeup on.

Soo-Jin doesn’t need makeup, so why not win this competition by showing the whole school—showing Soo-Ho—what a fraud Ju-Kyung is?

From Soo-Jin’s perspective she’s done the math and come out on top. Everything that (supposedly) matters she either has equal to Ju-Kyung, or is superior, therefore it’s obvious that Soo-Ho would choose her in the end. She says at much: If I had confessed first you would have loved me first, so now that I have confessed you’ll break up with her. Hell, even Ju-Kyung believes this. She has the nightmare about Soo-Ho learning that Soo-Jin has feelings for him and immediately, publicly breaking up with her. After all, if he suddenly has both as an option the winner is obvious, right? It’s all about competition, what they’ve been taught to believe is a competition: Ju-Kyung through her bullying and Soo-Jin through her abuse. The difference is that Ju-Kyung has had the whole series with Soo-Ho (and others) helping her slowly unlearn this mentality. Soo-Jin had the rug pulled out from under her in an instant.

Soo-Ho says no, I wouldn’t have loved you if you had confessed first and I’m not going to date you now. It’s important to realize that this shatters Soo-Jin’s entire world. It’s not about a girl being upset that she can’t get the guy — not even about Soo-Ho as an individual, really — it’s about an abused girl not knowing how to grapple with the fact that she finally did everything “right” and still couldn’t “win,” coupled with losing the last bit of security she had. Soo-Ho broke the unspoken rules Soo-Jin’s father beat into her and she doesn’t know where to go from there. She literally has no one else to turn to. So she falls back on the only way she does know how to handle a situation like this: by still trying to win. If Soo-Ho won’t admit that she’s better, she’ll force him to realize that by plastering Ju-Kyung’s “ugly” face all over social media. Which, to be clear, isn’t an excuse. This isn’t meant to be a way of absolving Soo-Jin of her absolutely horrific actions, only a means of explaining them. Her descent, while shocking to those of us who loved her initial character, is well written because it’s a nuanced look at what can happen when you abuse a kid her whole life and teach her that competition is everything. Oddly enough, she’ll apply a competitive outlook to everything and deal with her stress in unhealthy ways. Ju-Kyung is a victim of Soo-Jin now, but Soo-Jin is a victim too. Her home life has ensured that she does not know how to accept failure—or what true failure even means—so it was inevitable that when things got bad, she’d try to fix it in ways that hurt both her and those around her. It’s all she knows how to do.

So far less “Perfect girl goes ooc and abandons her friend over a boy” and far more “Abused girl falls into a terrible, but predictable cycle that the other stressed high schoolers around her are not equipped to break.” Soo-Jin’s story isn’t bad writing, it’s tragic. Thanks for coming to my three page TED talk ✌️

***

2/4/21 FINALE UPDATE!

#abuse tw #true beauty #kang soojin #mymetas #true beauty spoilers

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luc606 · 3 years

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An Autumn Morning

(by @luc606) Saeyoung feels like he doesn't deserve the life he's built, so you pull him out of it with warm fall drinks and some light yard work.

Saeyoung x MC (MC is referred to as "you" but never by name) 1649 words, FLUFF, a little sadness but not enough to call it angst, just domestic Saeyoung with domestic brother-in-law (to be) Saeran, takes place like a year after SE, roughly based on this ask

also technically goes for mystictober day one: favorite character

Saeyoung was not accustomed to paying attention to the changing seasons.

Before, there were only days, months, and years that were spent mostly in the bunker, the time passing carefully, but not precisely measured, like sand through an hourglass. Saeyoung was used to that kind of life, and once he met you, he had found new insecurity in how well that kind of life had seemed to fit him. Now that he was with you, finding his way into a normal life little by little, there were days where it was all he could do not to retreat back into his dark office and wait for you to inevitably get tired of acclimating him to being average.

Today was one of those days.

He’d woken up before the sun, though he could only tell this by the time programmed sun lamp you had asked him to build. He’d installed them all over the bunker, and it only somewhat made up for the complete lack of windows.

Inexplicably, you’d made the bunker almost cozy. Especially now, as summer turned to fall, you’d gently folded throw blankets over the back of the couch and bought seasonal candles for the kitchen and living room.

On days like this, these touches made Saeyoung’s heart ache. Couldn’t you see that this wasn’t right for you? His love deserved a sweet suburban house or a cheerful cottage with a bay window in the dining room, not a windowless bulletproof box that had once been home to daily illegal activity.

You stir next to him in bed.

“Saeyoung?”

On days like this, he doesn’t think he deserves that name.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up,” he says, rolling over to face you. To make himself face you.

“You didn’t,” you say. And then after a pause, “Are you okay?”

Saeyoung knows that he should tell the truth, tell you that he’s having one of those days where he feels like he doesn’t belong in your light. He doesn’t want to, he wants to lie and say everything is okay.

He says nothing, but his hesitation is enough for you. You’ve spent three years with the man now, you know how to tell when he’s feeling this way.

“Baby,” you say, pulling him into you. “Go back to sleep.”

Despite himself, he does.

In the morning, when the sun emulating lamp has begun to turn subdued shades of orange and pink, he finds that he is alone in the bed. You’d let him sleep in, which he almost never does. He lays for a moment, feeling foggy, but soon the door opens to reveal you in your robe with two cups of coffee. He almost smiles, smelling the pumpkin spice creamer you’ve sweetened the coffees with.

“Good morning,” you greet him with a careful smile, handing him his sweet seasonal drink.

The coffee is in a set of matching mugs that had been an engagement gift from Jaehee. His is red and yours is pink, and there’s a curve in both of them that forms a heart when they’re placed together. He loves that you go out of your way to use these mugs more than any others you own.

Saeyoung takes the coffee from you and takes a sip, it’s warm and almost too sweet. He knows you put just a bit more sugar in his coffee because he likes it better that way, even if he should learn to drink it more plain.

“I hope you slept well,” you take a seat next to him on the bed. “We have some yard work to do.”

“Yard work?” he asks, his surprise coming out as a laugh.

Before, the land surrounding the bunker was unruly. The trees and tall grass camoflauged the entrance, so he’d never felt the need to trim the grass or leaves. Now, though, the yard – he had a yard now – was fully under the jurisdiction of his brother. At the recommendation of his therapist, Saeran had begun the project shortly after you’d moved in as a way to redirect anxious energy. He’d planted flowers and shrubs all around the bunker and had laid a garden path around the front leading around to a small herb and vegetable garden in the back. It was Saeran’s pride and joy, and Saeyoung had stayed mostly out of it. He’d only mowed the lawn once, and even then Saeran had complained about the lines he’d made with the mower not being straight.

“It’s fall,” you say, emphasizing this by raising your mug of pumpkin spice flavored coffee. “The yard is covered in leaves, so you should rake them.”

“Isn’t that Saeran’s job?” Saeyoung asks, incredulous. “I mean he never lets me do anything in the yard, I really shouldn’t–”

You cut him off, “I told him you’d do it for him, I’ll help.”

Saeyoung knows what you’re doing here, you’ve done it before. When he gets down, you’ve found that keeping him busy and out of his thoughts helps him overcome the feeling faster. But yard work? This was a new low.

“It’ll be fun!” you add, taking his silence as dissent.

Saeyoung sighs, but nods. Success.

You and Saeyoung finish your coffees in relative silence, you sit perched in your robe reading something off your phone while your fiancé shivers against the cool morning air, bundled in your large comforter as if it’s a shawl. When he finally finishes his coffee (you suspect he’s sipping extra slowly, putting off getting out of bed) you take the mug from him and tell him to get dressed. He makes no move to get up, but he’s miraculously clothed when you return from the kitchen.

He looks good, it’s not often that your nerdy Saeyoung looks like this – rugged, a little messy. He’s wearing jeans and an old red flannel with the sleeves rolled up to expose his forearms. He’s pushed his hair back, as he’s accustomed to wearing it now, but without any product, a few of his curls are stuck up in the air while a few fall back onto his forehead.

You kiss his cheek gently as you slip past him towards the closet and he offers a small smile.

“Give me just a second and I’ll be ready,” you say, already slipping off your robe in the closet entrance.

Saeyoung pretends he isn’t looking as you change into a pair of jeans.

“Can I wear this?” you ask, holding up a long-sleeve red t-shirt of Saeyoung’s that he normally wears to work out or clean.

“I’m surprised you’re asking,” he jokes.

You do usually steal his clothes without permission, he doesn’t ever mind.

You shrug. “You’re right there, I’m just being polite.”

He laughs, and his face turns just a bit pink.

Once you’re dressed, you take Saeyoung’s hand and pull him out the door, through the living room, and all the way out to the small garden shed he’d built for Saeran as a gift on the twins’ last birthday.

From the shed, in which Saeran has lined up every tool neatly on pegs along one wall, Saeyoung retrieves the rake.

“How are you supposed to help if there’s only one rake?” he asks you.

You laugh, “I’m here for moral and emotional support, of course.”

Saeyoung, feeling lighter already, whips the end of the rake towards you and gently taps your backside with the handle.

“Lazy~”

“Hey!” You laugh, lunging towards him and catching the rake in your hands and pulling your fiancé towards you with it. “Saeyoung!”

Saeyoung laughs easily, and you can feel the waves of his bad mood melting off. His moments of sadness, depression from a life’s worth of grief and anxiety pushed away for years, are fewer and further between now. He’s seen a therapist a few times, a colleague that Saeran’s therapist recommended, but most of his healing was done by seeing his brother survive and learn to thrive outside of the harsh conditions of their childhood and his time spent in Rika’s misguided care.

“And it’s not that much,” you say, “I’ll put all the leaves in Saeran’s mulch pile while you’re raking and we’ll be done in no time.”

You pull the rake towards yourself again, this time catching Saeyoung’s hip to steady him while bringing him in close.

“Are you feeling better?” You ask, voice low. “You look like you’re feeling better.”

Saeyoung startles, like he didn’t expect you to acknowledge out loud that he was feeling any kind of way at all, but quickly recovers before saying, “Yes, actually.”

He smiles as you pull him down into a gentle kiss, you feel him fail to keep the smile off his face as he kisses you back. His face is warm from the last little bit of summer sun that’s pouring down on you both.

“I love you,” you say, finally pulling away.

His eyes are intense as he pulls back to look at you.

“I love you too.”

☆

Later, after the fallen leaves have been relocated to Saeran’s compost and are no longer threatening to ruin the lawn, Saeran thanks his brother for raking the yard, not with words, but with a warm cup of hot chocolate and a soft grin.

Saeyoung’s heart soars when he sees that Saeran has made a cup for you, too. He thinks he’ll never get tired of seeing his two favorite people continue to love and accept one another as family. It’s everything he’s ever wanted.

He finds himself in a completely different state now than when he had awoken this morning. He settles into the couch next to you, able to appreciate the cozy autumn decor that you’ve adorned the bunker with. He no longer feels like this place is stifling you, he understands that you’re grateful for the security the home provides you, and he feels grateful too.

#saeyoung x mc #saeyoung choi #mysme 707 #mm 707 #mystic messenger #mysmes #mysme #saeran choi #saeyoung headcanons #saeyoung angst #mystic messenger saeyoung #707 x mc #secret ending #luc606 #tagging #mystictober2021 #bc saeyoung is my fave ❤️

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use-your-imagination98 · 3 years

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If I was writing HSMTMTS S3

So, we know the drama kids go to theater camp:

Have the theater camp be run by Ashlyn and EJ’s grandmother: Penny Caswell

This would lead to Caswell Family Drama

which would lead to introducing the grandfather: George Caswell

We already know that George and Penny met at Duke. George was going to be a lawyer and Penny was studying theater. Penny got pregnant her senior year with Cash. She lost her chance at being a Broadway star to stay home and raise Cash (and eventually Dennis)

George bought the camp for Penny to shut up her complaints that he got to be this big shot lawyer and she never got to follow her dreams. George doesn’t understand/like musicals/theater.

George is close with Ashlyn, while Penny is close with EJ. Penny doesn’t mind that EJ is still exploring life, while George is furious that EJ isn’t going to Duke. Penny internally sees a lot of herself in Ashlyn and therefore pushes her extremely hard.

When Ash and EJ introduce Gina and Big Red, it’s Big Red who Penny doesn’t like. She thinks he is below Ashlyn’s standards and spends all summer trying to set Ashlyn up with another boy at the camp who has huge dreams.

Gina, for the first time in her life, is settled and happy. She helps EJ discover what he wants in life and helps EJ and Ashlyn with their family troubles.

Enter Ricky... He brings Lily along with him to summer theater camp. Lily puts on a fake front, but Gina senses that she is being fake.

Soon, an instagram account is created and begins bullying the East High Drama kids: Putting a pig’s nose on a pic of Ashlyn, a DUNCE cap on a pic of Seb, etc. One picture is revealed during each episode starting with 2 and ending with 7/8. All these pictures were taken at camp. So, the instagram has to be run by someone there. Gina, Kourtney, Big Red, and Carlos are the loudest voices telling Ricky that its Lily. But Ricky continues to defend her.

Gina call out Lily at one of the campfire sing-a-longs and Lily acts all dumb and hurt. Ricky and Gina argue (#Rina angst). Big Red breaks them apart and pulls Ricky aside. Red tries to reason with Ricky and explain why everyone thinks its Lily. Ricky blows up at Red and complains that the reason he’s team Lily is because ever since Big Red started dating Ashlyn, he’s changed and doesn’t have time for Ricky. Big Red goes off (#Redky angst)

Howie, seeing how Lily’s lies are pulling the friend group apart, pulls Kourtney aside and admits Lily stole the harness and he knew about it. Kourtney fumes. Breaks up with Howie and we get a girl bonding moment with her and Gina and Ashlyn. Kourtney shifts focus on making costumes for the camp’s summer musicale. Her costume prowess impresses Penny and Penny offers Kourtney a job at Caswell Camp anytime she would like one and writes her a letter of recommendation to Kourtney’s top college.

After Lily posted the Seb picture with a DUNCE cap on him, Seb confides in Carlos that he is dyslexic and learning is hard for him and when people put him down or call him stupid, it really hurts. Carlos decides that he comes from money and decides (with Seb’s permission) to hire Seb an amazing tutor to help him with school.

So, to recap: Ricky is fighting with EVERYONE, EJ is fighting with his grandpa, Ashlyn with her grandma, EVERYONE but Lily is mad at Ricky, Howie and Kourtney are on the outs but Queen Kourtney is thriving elsewhere.

As for Miss Jenn and Mr. Mazzara, Mr. M took the California Job and Miss Jenn is trying to make it work with Mike, but with every passing day she regrets it. She talks to Penny about her troubles. Penny explains her story with George and Miss Jenn realizes she wants Mr. Mazzara, that she is forcing herself to work in Mike’s life, but her and Ben just click.

CUTE COUPLE MOMENTS:

3x05: It’s the 4th of July and this episode contains the Seblos talk about Seb having dyslexia. In this episode, Seb confides in Carlos and Carlos decides he will do any activity that Seb wants to do that day. At night, during the fireworks, Carlos had EJ and Big Red spell out “I LOVE YOU SEB” in fireworks. Seb says ILY2 and they kiss under the fireworks.

3x08: Big Red is fed up with Penny trying to push Ashlyn closer to the camp guy and during a conversation with Ashlyn, he gets super short and testy. Ashlyn puts it together that Red is worried again that he’s not enough for her and tells her grandma to back off. She loves Big Red. It dawns on her what she just admitted and plans to tell Big Red under the star light (since lights are their thing). She drags him to a midnight picnic under the stars and they say their ILYs.

Portwell are cute all season. EJ defends his relationship with Gina to his grandfather pretty early in the season. They are full of fluff all season... until 3x12. EJ decides to go to Penn State (or any out of Utah college) for communications and videography. And Gina (once again) gets the rug pulled out from under her, and confused about what that means for her and EJ.

After her talk with Penny in 3x10, Miss Jenn misses the beginning of the camp musicale in 3x11 and flies to California to confess her feelings for Mr. Mazzara. They finally kiss and Mr. M admits California isn’t for him. He’s more of a Utah guy anyway.

Howie tries all summer to get Kourtney’s forgiveness, but she just won’t budge. During the camp musicale he sings another AMAZING ballad and says an impromptu speech about how in awe he is of her and how he screwed up. Kourtney is touched and agrees to start again but he has to gain her trust back.

George and Penny have a sweet moment in 3x11 or 3x12 after he watches Ashlyn and EJ sing and starts to see what Penny sees in the musical/theater stuff.

Ricky, being on the rocks with all his friends, starts to wonder if they were right about Lily. He steals her phone while she’s taking a swim in the lake and sees that she truly is the one behind the horrible pictures of his friends. He confronts her the morning of the musicale and they break up. Throughout the musicale he makes amends with the gang, especially a really sweet Big Red/Ricky moment. Then, the season ends with Ricky looking for Gina to apologize after the show, and she's sitting in the dark, alone by the lake. He notices she’s crying and she admits she doesn’t know what her and EJ’s future is going to be. He sits besides her and wraps an arm around her. SEASON ENDS.

Musical Moments:

The East High Drama Club does another Instagram video but this time to “What Time is It”

a Miss Jenn/Penny duet (HSM’s Ms Darbus and HSMTMTS’s Ms Darbus)

a Kourtney/Ashlyn/Gina acoustic friendship song after Kourtney is hurt by Howie

George singing to Penny as a surprise after he understands her love of musicals for the first time

of course a bunch of others, but that all depends on what musical they do.

If you made it this far, thanks for reading! I liked season 2, but it wasn’t cohesive. Plots were dropped and the core of the characters and friendships were lost or forgotten. I feel like although the characters would be going through individual drama, all their drama is connected and plots aren’t dropped the next episode. Also, I’m neither a Portwell or a Rina, I ship more of Gina and happiness so I tried to give both Portwells and Rinas stuff they would enjoy.

P.S. NiNi is in California writing/recording music. I don’t think Olivia is likely coming back so I had all this in mind without NiNi being on the show.

NEW CAST:

Alyson Reed as Penny Caswell (uhhh hello! Having the OG Ms Darbus apart of HSMTMTS would be perfect!)

Jon Lindstrom as George Caswell (you guys probably don’t know him but he’s a goooood actor, works for ABC who is owned by Disney, and can sing)

#hsmtmts #hsmtmts season 3 #Portwell #rina #redlyn #seblos #kowie #licky #bored out of my mind #thought this up #I just want a more cohesive season #and more than just relationship drama

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lululawrence · 3 years

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Polyamory Fic Rec

I thought I’d made one already, but apparently I hadn’t. So, since @twopoppies had an anon looking for more, I figured I’d go ahead and make a rec list now. This is not exhaustive, but it’s a start!

Please remember to leave the authors kudos and nice comments to show appreciation for their work.

I Should've Known by @nikogda (Liam/Louis/Harry, 11k)

It started out with little things here and there. A light that needed replacing. The belt in the vacuum. Small things, and eventually they took advantage of it.

Louis decided they needed another, larger repair whilst talking with his alpha neighbour, Liam. Liam had said he would do it for Louis and his partner, Harry.

And, well, it sort of went a little off track from there. What was an innocent thing at first, was now the two omegas’ way of catching the sweet deep scent of their alpha neighbour one whom they both mutually crushed.

Or: the one where alpha Liam moves in next door to bonded omegas Louis and Harry. All three go on their own journeys but in the end find that maybe, in the end, it really was always each other.

And That Was That by @lightwoodsmagic (Zayn/Liam/Harry/Louis, 23k)

“Okay. When Zayn and I were working on the set yesterday, Liam dropped by and mentioned he had a date. I asked Zayn about it, and he said that they’re ah - poly?”

Harry blinked.

“Oh yeah, I knew that. Li mentioned it when we were playing tennis once.” He ran his hand through Louis’ hair, smiling softly when he nuzzled into the touch.

“Is that what’s making you act strange? Because it seems like something that works for them, and I —.”

“Zayn has feelings for me.” A deep breath, and then blue eyes locked on green. “He said he needs distance because he has to get over them.”

Harry hadn’t realised his hand had fallen from Louis’ face until his fingers were being tangled and gripped tightly.

Or, Zayn and Liam have been polyamorous for years, but Harry and Louis are monogamous. When Zayn meets Louis and starts to fall for him, it opens them all up for something they've never experienced before.

That Don't Define Who You Are by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 7k)

“Shit,” Harry muttered, rushing towards the man. “Are you alright?”

The man clearly tried to muffle his scream. “No, I’m really not. I’m afraid you’ll need to call 999.”

When Harry reached the man, he saw the man’s leg had gotten caught by pieces of the bike that had come apart beneath him. Without thinking, Harry leaned down and lapped where the blood was flowing quickly until it slowed.

“I’m so sorry, I just didn’t want you to pass out whilst I was on the phone.”

“God, no, don’t apologise,” the man said. “My mum’s a licking omega, see. Quite soothing.”

Harry blushed. “Yeah. Let me see about an ambulance for you.”

Or the one where Harry is a licking omega with a broken bond who helps heal a fairly hapless beta with a folding bicycle. When Harry also meets the beta's alpha, things start to get... interesting.

Its Mutual We (All) Discussed It by @nikogda (Zayn/Harry/Louis, 29k)

“Well you go to the agency, Alpha Donor Services and fill some forms out, whoever is doing the deed gets tested and such. And then they match you based on the papers with a few Alphas. You read the information on them and pick a few, they make sure they’re still willing and tell them about you. Eventually you guys will meet in public, do that a few times until you’re comfortable.” Niall scratched his arm lightly, and glances over at Harry, “The point of the service is to help a family, mostly an omega one, who can’t have children of their own. An Alpha will help an Omega get pregnant.”

“I feel like this is a lot.” Harry mumbles, setting his mug down.

“It is. Or well it was but it was worth it, H. I mean, I would do this again. We already talked about it.”

“Really?”

Or: Two omegas in a committed relationship are ready to start a family. In the process, their alpha donor becomes part of the family too. Every part of their relationship may be unconventional but all of them have never been happier

old haunts are for forgotten ghosts by fortymaliks (Nick/Harry/Louis, 8k)

“It’s the three of us, now,” Harry says, finally.

Louis blinks.

“Like,” Harry rushes to clarify, “you, and me, and Nick.”

Louis wakes up with amnesia, and learns that he's missing two whole years of his life. Two whole years, and some interesting developments...

Orion's Belt by @londonfoginacup (Nick/Harry/Louis, 24k)

Louis and Nick have been in a happy committed relationship for two years, their matching soulmarks on display for the world to see. It’s been them against the world, the alpha/beta singer and radio DJ power duo.

All that changes on February 1st, when they wake up to a third matching soulmark.

As they say, the course of true love never did run smooth.

You're a Rabbit, Louis Series by @magicalrocketships (Nick/Harry/Louis, 16k)

"Maybe Louis turned into a rabbit," Nick suggests. They both laugh. Louis doesn't. Harry is an idiot and Nick is an even bigger one.

Louis stomps past both of them on four tiny, furry, baby rabbit paws, and into Nick's flat. "I hate you both," he says. He sits on the rug by the TV. "And you can stop following me around too," he says to Pig, who sits down next to him on the rug.

"But seriously," Harry says, from the door. "Where's Louis?"

Louis thumps his back leg on the floor. "I'm here, you idiot."

"I'm not really suggesting this could be true," Nick says carefully, "but are we sure he isn't a tiny baby rabbit?"

The "A" in "Normal" by Yesitstyles (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

Louis eats chips, argues with his best friend Nick about the validity of various sexualities, and falls for a second crush. Harry tries to spell the word "normal".

Loving You's the Antidote by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 11k)

Nick and Harry had never been an obvious match. When eighteen-year-old Harry, newly presented as an omega, came home freshly bonded to Nick, a man nine years his elder and a beta no less, Anne had been more than skeptical and Eileen had shared some harsh words of her own. That didn’t deter them, though, and their families soon realised there really was something special about the bondmates that allowed them to work together almost seamlessly.

It was only a few months later that Harry started getting sick.

Or the one where Harry and Nick have been able to keep Harry's disorder at bay over the course of their relationship, but when they move to London and away from their support system, they find themselves in desperate need of help.

Come Out and Play by @dinosaursmate (Combination of OT5 pairings, 30k)

“I have this… fantasy.” Louis smiled self-consciously. “Well, I- I’ve been thinking about it recently, you know?”

Harry smiled softly. “Say it, Lou.”

“I have this fantasy,” he repeated. “Of… all five of us.”

“All five of us,” Harry exclaimed. “Gosh.”

Louis buried his face into Harry’s armpit, and Harry giggled softly. --- Harry and Louis discover a new kink in their relationship, and it brings all the boys closer than they could have ever imagined.

Trinity's Fate by Anonymous (Nick/Harry/Louis, 43k)

When a person is sixteen years old, he or she finds out if they are a dom or a sub. Later when they turn eighteen, the name of their soulmate(s) appear somewhere on their body.

Louis Tomlinson, a sub, fears getting a dom more than anything.

When his eighteenth birthday approaches and the names Nicholas Grimshaw and Harry Styles, a well known dom couple who are DJs for BBC Radio 1, appear on his arms, Louis panics.

Let me be your good night by Conscious_ramblings (Nick/Greg/Harry/Louis, 8k)

The one where Harry and Louis are in love, they end up at a party with some friends, and end up discovering things about themselves, and their friends that could change everything.

The thing was, Harry and Louis weren’t poly. They’d never even played with others together, despite having talked about it quite a lot in the heat of arousal. When they had been at torture garden and antichrist they had flirted with the idea. Harry had even kissed a friend of theirs once to rile Louis up, which had lead to a great session on the Saint Andrew’s cross. Louis loved to watch Harry flirt, loved the way jealousy turned him on and riled him up, loved how pliant and submissive Harry could be when Louis claimed him after. But they definitely weren’t poly, and Louis wasn’t quite sure what that meant for this evening. Everyone else attending the party was, and Louis’ green-eyed-monster had been feeding off that fact for most of the bus ride here. Now he was confronted by a really hot man playing with his boyfriend’s hair like it was no big deal, and he didn’t know quite what to do.

Perfect Sky by @polkadotlou (Nick/Harry/Louis, 40k)

Sub pairs are a rare thing, not only because of the jealousy that can brew between submissives if a Dom isn't attentive to each.

A sub pair has to be balanced.

Harry and Louis have always fit each other without trying. With them, it's easy.

But sub pairs can't just go out in the world and live on their own.

Alternatively, Louis always knew that a Dom was going to come into his and Harry’s lives – he only wishes Nick picked him too.

The Only Thing That Keeps Me Grounded by lululawrence (Nick/Harry/Louis, 28k)

“Shit, I definitely missed the last train.”

“Oh no,” Louis lamented. “I’d offer a ride, but I’m part of a carpool and we’re full already. I’m so sorry.”

“Really, it’s fine.” Then, what Louis said sank in. “Wait, I thought you were here alone?”

“Oh, I am. I’m the only one dancing here tonight. The others were working. In fact, here’s Nick now.”

It felt like slow motion as a tall, lanky man with incredible hair came walking over towards Louis. He smiled before pulling Louis into him and giving him a quick kiss.

“Nick, this is my new friend Harry. He just moved to the area and he’s amazing at swing. Harry, this is my husband, Nick.”

Fuck.

Or the one where Harry moves to Washington DC to be a nanny and never expects that his past struggles with love will be brought to a head. He definitely never expects the solution to it all will be the man of his dreams that just so happens to be married to the other man of his dreams.

Tell Me It’s The Strongest Shape by @louandhazaf (Nick/Elgar/Louis, 73k)

Nick and Elgar have it all. They’re famous, successful, and engaged to be married—and sometimes they play with others.

When uni student Louis gets street cast by Elgar for a GQ photoshoot, he's drawn into Nick and Elgar’s complicated relationship.

They've always invited mates into their bed. It doesn’t ever mean anything. Until… it does.

it hurts, but it's worth it by words_unravel (Liam/Harry/Louis, 14k)

Liam finds the shots of the three of them, rolling around and laughing, a week or so later during a late night. After a moment's pause, she saves one of the photos, giving it some inane, boring name. She shuts down her computer after that and goes to bed.

It takes a long time before she falls asleep.

#mine #poly fic rec #my fic rec #fic rec #i love poly fics so much #i thought i had made one of these already????#i was surprised to find i hadn't #so anyway #this is a good start

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alyjojo · 2 years

Text

Advice to Work on Yourself 📸 in June 2022: Scorpio

The Tower - The Star - 6 Pentacles rev

Regarding: 9 Wands

You’re getting (or have gotten) bad news in regards to something that was putting a lot of pressure on you, something that’s put you through hell. You’re being released, which seems like a good thing, but it doesn’t seem that way to you. That’s what you wanted right? At some point you did, now you’re hanging on for dear life because you don’t WANT to set down this burden. Scorpios don’t like change, at least not ones they don’t initiate.

This may have come to a shock to you with The Tower. You’re either feeling abandoned by a person (could be a relationship) or you’re dealing with some major financial strain. It looks like you’ve definitely said your piece to whoever dropped this bomb on you. Separately, for some of you, you’re trying to heal a relationship, and you’re dissatisfied because you have nothing to give in terms of material things or financial stability. You want to take romantic action towards someone, could be this Tower person that pulled the rug out from under your feet, could be a separate person and the disaster is pertaining to your job, bills, a financial issue that’s cost way too much of your resources, etc.

You don’t like the imbalance of lack in the relationship, you want equal give and take, a partner, working together, and being together in a loving relationship. It seems like you’re the one lacking though, and it’s killing your pride. Normally you’d judge someone else for this same thing, but instead of facing humility and judging less, you’re just...bitter. Bitter Betty. The more important thing is you love this person deeply, and if they feel the same, they won’t see you as less for that. That’s the advice. Stop judging both others and yourself with these high expectations. Shit happens 💙

Animal Oracle: Mouse 🐁

“You’re overlooking some important details, so pay closer attention to what’s going on.”

Pay closer attention to other people’s body language - how they move, their gestures, facial expressions, and general posture. When you focus not only on what individuals are saying but also on their body language, you’ll find that you have considerably more information that you can use to understand what they’re really communicating, for body language typically reveals far more about people than what they’re verbally expressing. In other words, don’t always take people at their word. Pay closer attention to agreements and contracts right now. Take your time to fully understand any agreement, finding out all that you can or asking for advice if you’re unsure. Walk a fine line between scrutinizing a contract for a period of time due to your need to be 100% certain, and rushing into something impulsively and reflexively based on emotional appeal.

Artist Oracle: GRAYSON PERRY

- Scratch at the surface until your fingers bleed.

- Meaning separates art and craft.

- Try something new, the old fashioned way.

Advice:

- Host a Murder Mystery Party!

- Learn to Meditate

Charms:

Axe 🪓 on 4 Pentacles is exactly the attitude that needs to be cut off. Narrow minded, greed, possessiveness, jealousy, judgement, being closed off to other perspectives or ways of behaving or believing. It’s not serving you, and whatever it is clearly isn’t how life works. There is no one way life works.

Unicorn 🦄 on The Tower could point to something idealistic, fantasy, a false idea in your head or assumption that’s crumbling. There is a lot of advice based on needing to shift your perspective, and this one in particular feels like “reality check”. Towers exist to wipe away what is not built on a stable foundation, and magic has its place, but only when it’s based on some kind of reality too.

Heart ♥️ on Murder Mystery! Isn’t to be taken seriously, it’s “lighten up, get social, have fun”. You’re stuck in a grumpy mindset and Spirit wants to help you out yo’ feelings, as a friend once said to me 😆 It’s true though. And this sort of thing sounds right up a Scorpio’s alley. You could love it.

Ladybug 🐞 on Knight of Cups shows there is luck relating to the romantic action you want to take. The only one stopping you is you, and maybe outside financial circumstances, that maybe don’t carry as much weight as you’re giving it. This person comes up as someone that has a lot of compassion, love, and understanding. If you’re afraid to be judged, it isn’t necessary. You judge yourself enough for everyone and then some.

#scorpio tarot reading #advice to work on yourself #advice #Scorpio #tarot #june 2022

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whimsicallyreading · 3 years

Text

It’s Time

Masterlist

Bryce could only prolong this talk for so long.

It wasn’t that she didn’t want to talk to Ithan. They’ve both been dying to speak to each other since she closed the gates.

Bryce wanted hug him. To thank Cthona that he’d made it into the cellar, and get to know him as the person he’s become. Conner’s little brother who is all grown up now.

Before they could do that, they had to clear the air between them. It would require picking at old wounds so they could heal properly. The death of the back was a rugged, festering scar on both of them. Solving Danika’s murder started the long journey towards healing and it couldn’t be stopped now.

Ithan was a big part of this.

“Would you like me to stay with you, Sweetheart?” Hunt mumbles into her hair.

Bryce knew he would stay if she asked. Bear the awkwardness of this conversation silently, acting as a welcomed voyeur to this mending of a relationship. Her and Ithan needed the safety of privacy to work this our, though.

She leans up and presses a kiss to the high arch of his cheek. “You don’t need to hand around. It’s just a talk.”

Hunt looks decidedly concerned, but doesn’t contradict her choice. “Let me know when you are through. We can go out for dinner tonight.”

Bryce wrinkles her nose, “Where we can get harassed by paparazzi and journalists? I don’t like having my picture taken when I’m trying to shove noodles into my mouth.”

“Oh, Sweetheart,” he brushes a piece of hair back from her face, “they won’t be bothering us tonight. I’ll make sure of it.” There’s a lightness to Hunt’s posture and a wicked gleam in his eyes now. Freedom looked good on him, and he was thriving.

Bryce felt the strange new magic inside of her twist. It was almost as attracted to Hunt as she was, and it always answered his call to playfulness and mischief. The kind of trouble Bryce herself was always drawn to.

Kindred souls, mirrors, whatever you wanted to call them, there was an unmistakable bond between them. One, that when Ember finally comes to visit with assuage her worries about her only daughter being with a Vanir male.

That was saying something.

Bryce looks through the glass windows of the bar where Ithan sits. He hasn’t seemed to notice her presence yet, the weight of what they were about to do was probably distracting him as well.

“Call me when you finish,” are Hunt’s final words before he takes off above the city streets.

Bryce looks at Ithan for a moment longer, and counts to three before walking inside.

As was typical these days, the minute she steps through the doors, heads turn. A couple of men even pull out their phone to snap picture, but Bryce flips them off and ruins their shots.

Or maybe they will sell it to CC Weekly and title it Princess Unhinged Again.

Ithan turns and glares at some of the offenders, and a few even have the common sense to turn away. Pissing off the new lead of the Aux packs wasn’t high on anyone’s to do lists.

Bryce was glad for Amelie’s decision to step down. She took it upon herself to decide that someone who didn’t have the dominance to oppose Sabine in her rash decisions should be her second. It was also becoming more apparent to the other packs that Ithan was built to be an alpha male, and Amelie was doing a piss poor job of maintaining control.

Ithan’s eyes catch Bryce’s, and instead of angry, he seems almost sorrowful. She pulls out the barstool next to his and orders a beer, looks at Ithan, then orders another for him as well.

Step one, they both would need alcohol for this.

“I’m not going to lie, Bryce.” He says looking up at the TV playing Sunball reruns on the screen and keeps his gaze fully locked there. “I’m really freaking uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, it is.” She agrees, “but it shouldn’t be, and that’s why we are doing this.”

“He was my brother.” Ithan chokes out and Bryce feels a tear in her heart. “You hurt him really bad and then he died.”

“I know,” Bryce swallows.

“He loved you.” There are tears dripping down Ithan’s cheeks and makes no move to wipe them. “You didn’t love him, but you lead him on and made him think he had a chance.”

Bryce wanted to retort, but she knew Ithan needed to express these feelings. He’d harbored them for so long they needed to be said aloud before they could be dealt with.

“He died and you wouldn’t even talk to me,” Ithan looks at her in betrayal.

She has to dab at her eyes with the sleeves of her shirt. Ithan looked so lost. So different from the vibrant puppy who played college sports and squished next to her on the couch. Bryce felt responsible for that loss of innocence even if she hadn’t been the one to kill Conner.

“I’m sorry,” she says, through the lump in her throat. “I know that doesn’t mean much but I am. You should know that I did love him.”

Ithan scoffs, and shakes his head at those words. “Sure you did.”

“I did.” Bryce hisses leaning forward, but catches herself and sits back in her chair. “You don’t get to tell me what I felt. I was young, stupid, and scared about what a relationship would mean.”

A sigh escapes her and she leans her face into her hands. “You know my baggage with Vanir males. I won’t go into that again. Conner was an intense person. I know how he felt about me but I wasn’t ready, yet.”

She looks Ithan in the eye, pleading for him to understand. “I wasn’t ready then.”

Her and Conner had just taken the first baby step in a relationship that night. They hadn’t made any commitments to each other, and while the wolves may see things differently Conner wasn’t expecting her to dive head first.

If they’d had more time, there would have been more baby steps. More progress. Bryce would have had time to mature and for Conner to be sure he was making the right choice not searching for a mate. They might have become something.

But they never got the chance.

“I couldn’t even look at myself in a mirror, there was no way I could have faced you.” Bryce confesses weakly. “If I could change the choices I made that night, I would. Without hesitation, but that’s a useless thought to entertain.”

All she could do was live with the choices she made. The past couldn’t be erased, and with Hunt, she was finally learning to embrace the future.

Connor sniffles and takes a long drink of the beer in front of him. “It wasn’t your fault, Bryce.”

Shock ran its cold fingers up her spine, and Bryce couldn’t keep the surprise from her face.

“You messed up. Don’t get me wrong, it was hard to forgive you for that,” Ithan says and Bryce cringes a little. “But I should never have let you go in believing you were to blame for them dying.”

“Ithan-“ the tremble in Bryce’s voice sends more tears to her eyes and she dabs them with a bar napkin. “Ithan I-“

“No,” he stops her short. “They were family too. You were in the right place at the right time and it spared your life. There was nothing you could have done, and I’m glad you aren’t dead. I would miss you.”

Ithan shudders and takes a gasping breath, and it breaks Bryce as well. She reaches over and wraps her arms around him, while Ithan squeezes her waisted as if he were afraid she’d disappear.

Several moments pass with them like this. Bryce knows a few people have snapped photos, but there isn’t any more room for anger. Not with the relief flooding through her veins, chilling that hot white pain she’d carried for so long.

“I forgive you Bryce,” Ithan whispers in her ear.

Bryce sobs, “I missed you too Ithan.”

They both pull away, wiping their faces and taking drinks of their beers to calm down. A cheer comes from the TV screen as a goal is scored, and a bowl of peanuts had been set in front of them at some point.

“Can we start over? Bryce asks hesitantly. “Is there a chance we could be friends again?”

Juniper was busy and Fury was gone on another mission. With Hunt and Ruhn active in her life again she was a lot less lonely, but there was still a gap where the pack had been. Where Ithan used to be.

Ithan takes a moment to think. “No,” he says, breathing out and taking a drink of beer. He rolls a peanut shell between his meat-stick finger. “I don’t think so.”

“Oh,” Bryce said. That didn’t feel like a knife in her gut at all.

“No,” Ithan continues. “Because we are family. We’ve always been family.”

Bryce beams from ear to ear, she honestly may even be glowing a bit. “I like the sounds of that.”

They drink beer, and soon talk becomes easier. Ithan fills her in on the years she missed, Bryce talks about the dance classes she’s taking again. They even talk about the night the she shut the gates, and the backlash that’s followed.

Time passes, and before she realizes it, Bryce is late to meet with Hunt.

“Shit,” Bryce starts gathering her things and lays a few bronze marks on the table. “I’ve got to go.”

“Hot date with your Angel?” Ithan asks and Bryce blushes and turns away, feeling slightly ashamed to acknowledge her new boyfriend in front of Conner’s brother.

Ithan touches her shoulder, “Conner would have liked Hunt for you.”

Bryce had texted Hunt, and she can see him land on the sidewalk outside of the bar, but her attention is still focused on Ithan.

“They didn’t know each other very well when he was alive,” Ithan acknowledges, “but if my brother saw how happy Hunt makes you, it wouldn’t have mattered. At the end of the day, he would just want you to be happy.”

Bryce grabs his hand and squeezes it. “He would be proud of you Ithan.”

“I know,” he smiles. “Now get going, I have to report for my Aux shift soon anyways. We should meet up again sometimes.”

They bid their goodbyes and Bryce feels a million times lighter as she walks out of the bar. Hunt sweeps her into his arms and they take off over the streets of Lunathion.

“How did it go?” He asks.

“Really well,” Bryce tells him l about their conversation and the bridges they mended. Hunt listens without judgement or interruption.

He lands in vacant side street close to the Old Square. A food cart serving spicy wraps, pita bread and hummus is just down the block. “I figured we could get some food and have a picnic?”

“A picnic?” Bryce smiles. “I like the sound of that.”

They’d made a bucket list of things ordinary people did in the city that Hunt has yet to try, and they attempt to knock a few off each week. Bryce took photos, and Hunt would get them developed after work. Soon a whole wall of their apartment was now decorated with photos of the two of them having fun.

A picnic was on their list, but near the bottom. It didn’t seem like the kind of thing Hunt would be super interested in.

Yet here they were.

It turns out, he’d even packed an old blanket in his backpack. When they finished eating Hunt and Bryce laid out under the stars, not speaking but just content in each other’s presence.

Her phone dings.

A text bubble from Ithan appears, quickly followed by another.

I hope you and Hunt are having fun. Conner isn’t the only one happy for you. I’m glad you’ve found someone.

It’s time

Bryce’s heart is warned further, and she sets her phone back down on the blanket beside her. She would call Ithan in the morning. Right now, Hunt’s wing was draping over her and the softness of it could put her to sleep.

Everyone was moving on, but instead of bitter and sad, there was hope. Their loved ones may be gone, but they weren’t forgotten. The pack would always be in her and Ithan’s heart, and where love endured so would their memories.

“You didn’t tell me your mother is coming next week,” Hunt whispers as Bryce’s eyes droop.

“I wasn’t about to give you time to prepare yourself,” Bryce smiles into his neck. “It’s better if you just jump in feet first with her.”

“Menace,” he hisses. “A pretty menace, but a pain in my ass at the same time.”

“We can face her together,” Bryce yawns.

“Go to sleep,” Hunt encourages. “I’ve got you, Sweetheart. Like I said earlier, no one is going to bug you when I’m around.”

So, under the night sky, wrapped in a velvet wind, her and Hunt fall asleep, looking forward to tomorrow at last.

The conversion at the end of HoEaB I feel we desperately needed 😂

Taglist- (let me know if you would like to be added or removed :D)

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@royalsqueeze

@julemmaes

@tillyrubes10

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

#crescent city #a house of earth and blood #hunt and bryce #Ithan Holstom #a little angsty #lots of comfort

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moon-light-jukebox · 4 years

Text

“All you have to do is ask.” Chapter 6 - [Reid x Reader]

previous chapter // series index // next chapter

Summary: After a long stretch of crimefighting, Reader and Spencer finally get a chance to spend some time together. Reader is ready to give Dr. Reid the proper introduction to female domination and BDSM he asked for.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x (Female) Reader

Category: 85% Smut, 10% Fluff, 5% Angst.

Word Count: 7.9k for Chapter 6

Content Warnings: BDSM, Femdom, thigh riding, pegging, orgasm denial, spitting, slapping, bondage, sub drop, aftercare, brief mention of menstruation (just in case that needs a warning). This chapter is filthy, y’all.

A/n: Before we begin, I wanted to give a small warning. When I started this story, I wanted to give an honest portrayal of BDSM/Femdom. The before, during, and after are equally important. Sub/Dom drop is a very real and emotional thing. But don’t worry, Reader is always there for our nervous boy.

y/n = your name. y/l/n = your last name. Italicized text is Reader’s thoughts.

-- Chapter 6 – “Dirty thing” --

Things started to move so fast after Illinois. We arrived home late Sunday night only to be called back out on Monday morning to assist the Tucson Police with a child abduction. We were finishing up the paperwork when the call came in from Florida about a series of car-jackings that weren’t really car-jackings.

It had been more than 2 weeks since that night in the hotel room, and all I had since then were just moments with my Dr. Reid. He sat next to me on the plane sometimes, his hand resting on my thigh when he was certain no one could see. He had placed a kiss on the back of my neck while we were standing in the conference room in Florida. I was surviving on these stolen moments.

Spencer seemed to be happy with our first BDSM experience together, which was a relief to me. I had never had a submissive that was inexperienced before. I felt a great deal of pressure where he was concerned; I knew the toll one bad partner could have on a person.

Some nights Spencer would call me from his hotel room. I would give him instructions on how I wanted him to touch himself; listening to his desperation grow every time he brought himself to the edge and I pulled him back. We experimented a bit with degradation. Learning the complexities of Spencer Reid was quickly becoming one of my favorite pastimes.

After Florida we made a brief stop in Alabama; Hotch informed us that we were only spending one night here and that we would be departing at 7:30 am the following morning. Our unit chief also swore that we were going to have the weekend off; no interruptions. I’ll believe it when I see it, was all I could think. Glancing around to the rest of the team, I could see they agreed with me.

We all had separate rooms that night, thankfully. If I had to listen to Emily snore for one more night, I might lose my mind. I wasn’t sure how JJ did it. Coming into my room, I kicked my shoes off and headed for the bed. I pulled my phone out of my bag before I very unceremoniously flopped down on the bed. The pace of the last 2 weeks was starting to wear on me.

I brought up my text messages when there was a hesitant knock on my door. It was just past 8 pm; it was risky, but I knew it had to be Spencer. I hurried towards the door, throwing it open to reveal his sheepish face. Wasting no time, I grabbed him by his shirt and dragged him into the room.

“What are you doing?” I hissed. “Someone could have seen you.”

"I'm not allowed to go to my friend's room to hang out?"

He has a point. “Well, you never know! It’s better to be safe.”

His full lips turned down into a pout. “I just wanted to spend some time with you. I missed you, y/n.” Is my heart fluttering like that a sign of a medical problem? I wondered. “And not just the…stuff we do. I just…I just missed being with you.”

How could I stay mad at that? “I missed you too, baby.” I took his hand in mine, guiding him over to the bed. He propped up on the pillows beside me, both hands coming up to loosen his tie.

“Can I ask you a question?”

I snorted a bit. “Yeah, Doc, I think you can ask me anything you want at this point.”

“Well,” his cheeks were starting to turn pink. “We’ve been…” I wonder what he’s gonna call it. “…serious”Hmm, that’s fair. “for almost 4 weeks now, 27 days and 14 hours, give or take, depending on when you wanted to say this started.”

“Get to the point, darling.”

“Right,” he muttered. “Well, we’re supposed to have this weekend off. And I don’t have any plans.” He dropped his eyes to his hands which were twisting nervously. “I understand if you have plans, of course. Or you’re just not in the mood. Statistically speaking, given the time we’ve spent together,” your likely to have your period soon-“

“Woah,” I interrupted. “Let’s pump those breaks, Doc.” Spencer looked horrified that he had rambled on so much and equally relieved that I had stopped him. “First of all, I have an IUD. I don’t get my period very often.” I can’t believe he’s talking about my period. “And second, the only plans I have this weekend involve grocery shopping and laundry.”

“Oh,” he said quietly. “Me too.”

I pulled my lips together between my teeth to try and suppress my smile. “Are you asking about my weekend plans because you’re interested in being a part of them? Or just out of curiosity?” Come on, Doc. All you have to do is ask me.

“I was-I was wondering if you wanted to spend some time together this weekend? If you’re not busy.”

My sweet, sweet boy. I stretched my body up, bringing my lips to his. I brushed my mouth over his in a very sweet and unhurried kiss. “No, Doc. I’m not busy.” I felt his lips smile against my own. “And maybe we can try some new things if you’re interested.”

“I’m more than interested in everything related to you,” he breathed against my lips.

It was decided that Spencer would come to my apartment Saturday in the early evening. I left the exact time up to him, in case he had anything he needed to do on this rare weekend off.

It was around 2 pm when my phone chimed with a text message from him.

“What time is okay for me to come over?”

I laughed out loud; I should have expected this. “Whenever you want, Doc.”

His response was immediate, which was also rare. “Can I come over now?”

“Sure, Doc. But I want you to bring something with you.”

I pulled open the door a short time later to find a very nervous looking Spencer Reid. Even out of work, he was still dressed the same as always. He had dark slacks on, a navy shirt, and a cardigan, he had forgone the tie today, and he was clutching the strap of his messenger bag for dear life.

“Hi, Doc,” I greeted him with a huge smile before waving him in. I saw him taking inventory of my apartment. From the art on the walls to the rug on the floor to the books on the bookshelf. "You need a bigger bookshelf," he said at last.

He wasn’t wrong. “I suppose I do. But not all of us can have a whole wall as a bookshelf, Doc.” I put my hand on his arm, pulling him into my living room, then down onto my couch. His entire body was tense, his eyes moving around nervously. I leaned closer, putting my hand on the side of his face, drawing his gaze to meet mine.

“We don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” I reminded him.

“I want to do this. I do.” He swallowed nervously, flexing his fingers. “I just…I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what’s going to happen. And I don’t want to mess up. And I’m so nervous that I’ll do something wrong.”

I leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “Hey, hey. Take a breath. I’m serious. Take a deep breath.”

He rolled his eyes but complied.

“Spencer, I don’t expect you to just come in here and jump into a world that you’ve never been a part of before. I’m nervous too.”

That had his eyes widening. “You are? But why? You know what you’re doing.”

It doesn’t feel like I do. “Every person is different, Spencer, and I haven’t cared about a submissive the way I care about you in a long time.” My boy smiled at that. “Before we do anything, we’re going to let you get comfortable. I’m not going to do anything that we haven’t already discussed. If you feel uncomfortable, say “yellow” and I will pull back. If you don’t want to do anything more, say “red” and we will stop right then.”

He bit his full bottom lip, his eyes widening as he continued to meet my gaze. “I don’t want to disappoint you.”

Just when I think my heart can’t possibly handle another crack in it. I cupped his jaw in both of my hands. “You could never disappoint me, Spencer. Never.” I said the words with 100% sincerity and honesty. It was true. “Even if you decide this isn’t what you want and you walk out right now, I’ll never be disappointed.” If he left right now I would feel a lot of things, but disappointment in him wouldn’t be one of them.

“Okay,” he breathed. “Can…Can I kiss you now? I don’t know-“

I leaned closer, my lips hovering millimeters from his own. “Yes,” I whispered. “You can kiss me.”

His lips were tender as they brushed mine. It was like nothing we had done previously mattered, my nervous boy was still so afraid, but still so desperate and so curious.

I pulled back right as his tongue flicked over the seam of my mouth, resting my forehead against his. “Let’s not get carried away,” I chuckled. “I still need to talk to you.”

Spencer sat back, his hands folded on his lap, looking at me expectantly.

Forever the eager student. "The scene begins when I send you into the bedroom alone. It ends when you cum. That can always change if you decide you want it to stop." He needed to know that. “Since this is your first experience, I want you to be prepared for some pretty intense emotions once we’re done, I promise I’ll be right here with you to get you through anything, should you feel it.” My boy’s eyes were wide, but he nodded. Still so trusting. “I’ll be using toys on you this time. I ordered them a few weeks ago and they’ve all been sterilized.”

His brow quirked at that. “You had to buy them?”

It was impossible to contain my laugh. “I didn’t think you’d be okay with toys that had been used on other people, no matter how well I sterilized them.”

The horrified expression on his face did nothing to help me suppress my laughter.

“Anyway,” I went on, still attempting to get myself under control. “I have various sizes for different things. I assume you’ve never done any sort of anal play on your own?”

There’s that blush. “No, y/n, I haven’t. Does that matter?”

“No, sweet boy, not in the way you think. I just want to make sure you’re comfortable. So, we will start with smaller sizes. If you decide you like it, we’ll work up to bigger ones. Or if you like the small ones, we can stick with those.”

He was shifting his hips unconsciously. “You’d be okay with that?”

Moving quickly, I lifted my leg over both of his, my hands pushing his shoulders to the back of the couch, my heat settling over his cock. He’s already a little hard, I thought with a smirk. I leaned forward, my mouth finding the softness of his neck, my lips skimming down to his pulse point before placing a soft kiss there.

Spencer groaned softly, his hands resting on my hips. He knew our scene hadn’t started yet, which made him bolder with his touch.

Kissing my way up to his ear, I took the lobe between my teeth, tugging softly, before I spoke. "I just want to fuck you, Dr. Reid. I don't care what size cock I fuck you with." I don't know if he shivered at the feeling of my breath against him or at my words. Hopefully both. I placed one last kiss on his neck before I moved off of him.

His bewildered expression amused me greatly. “But, before any of that, did you bring what I asked?”

It took my brilliant boy a second to remember what I was talking about. He reached for the messenger bag beside him. “Yes,” he muttered, opening the bag to pull out several books. “But I wasn’t sure what sort of book you wanted me to bring. So, I brought a few different options.” He set 4 books down on my coffee table. “What are they for?”

“You’re going to read to me,” I said, not attempting to hide my smile.

"…I am?" At my nod, he said, "Oh..okay. Do you want to do that now?”

“Don’t look so disappointed, baby.” I held out my hand to him. “Come with me.”

Curious as ever, my boy followed me into my bedroom, his eyes scanning over the bed, resting on the small chest that sat at the end of it.

“…Are we…” he trailed off.

"Sort of. I wanted to try something first before we officially start.” I turned to him, my fingers moving slowly up his chest until I reached his collar. “It will help me get you ready for later. Is that okay?” Still so nervous. Spencer nodded quickly; his pupils were already beginning to dilate. I rose up on my tiptoes to press a kiss to his pouty mouth. "We're not really in a scene right now. I know that can be confusing, and it's not something I would normally do, but you've never done this, so I thought it would be best." I pressed another kiss to his jaw. "You can touch me, just not under my clothes yet. Alright, baby?"

He mumbled his response while I pulled him forward until the back of my knees hit the bed, bringing him tumbling down with me. His hands tangled in my hair when my mouth found his. I didn’t pull away this time when his tongue flicked over my lips. I let him in with a soft sigh, moving my hands to tug on his soft, messy curls. I shifted until my pelvis was aligned with his, beginning to rock slowly.

This whole exercise was a bit of a tease, but I needed for him to be aroused for what I had planned. The more aroused he was the better.

I tugged his shirt out of the waistband of his pants, running my hands underneath the fabric. "Hey," he whispered, pulling back to smile at me. I ignored the way my heart fluttered at his tone. “You said not under the clothes.”

Smiling back at him, I hooked my leg around his hips, pulling him down further. I used that momentum to flip him onto his back while I straddled him. He looks so surprised, I thought smugly. He knows I help teach seminars on defensive tactics.

“Wrong again, Dr. Reid,” I murmured, my lips moving down his cheek to his jaw, to his ear. “I said you couldn’t put your hands under my clothes, baby,” I whispered against his ear. “I can do whatever the fuck I want to you.” I brought my hand up to wrap around his throat, applying a small amount of pressure to each side. I pressed my still covered pussy against the bulge in his pants. “Isn’t that right, baby?”

Spencer didn’t even wait until the words were out of my mouth before he started to whimper. I lifted my body until I was sitting up then I brought my hands to his belt. My fingers were unzipping his fly before I spoke again. “I asked you a question, Dr. Reid. Or does that memory of yours stop working when you become a whimpering, needy little mess?” My words were harsher than they had ever been with him before; he’d really enjoyed the degradation we had done so far and said he was open to pushing it a bit further. Ask and you shall receive, baby.

I moved off of him then, rising to my feet at the side of the bed. First, I slid his shoes off. Then I reached up to pull his pants down. Then my thumbs hooked in the waistband of his underwear. I let out an exaggerated sigh as I climbed back on top of his body. My lower body was still completely covered but he was bare from the waist down.

He wasn’t prepared for when my right hand shot out and grabbed his face. My thumb digging into the left side of his face. “That’s twice you’ve not answered me, Dr. Reid.” I lifted my hand from his face and quickly brought it back down quickly. Not as hard as I had the last time we were together like this. Not yet.

“I’m sorry, Miss,” he whimpered. “I’m so sorry.”

“Are you?” I moved my hand down to grip his hard cock in my hand, squeezing him, enjoying the way his eyes fluttered at the action. “I don’t know if I believe that, Dr. Reid.” My hand was pumping him steadily now. “I think you need to apologize a bit better than that.”

His eyes shot open and he subconsciously licked his lips, causing me to chuckle and still my hands movements. “Oh no, you can’t have that. You haven’t earned that, my nervous boy. Look at you. Look how much your cock is leaking precum already.” I brought my hands up unbutton his shirt. “You’re just a needy thing, aren’t you? It’s almost pathetic.”

Spencer was shifting his hips again, trying to get some sort of friction. “I’m sorry, Miss.”

Once his shirt was unbuttoned, I brought my hands up to his throat, leaning down to kiss the tip of his nose. “I know.” I lifted up, raking my nails down his pale chest. “Which is why you’ll be my good boy now, won’t you?”

He nodded quickly, his eyebrows coming together when I moved off of him. I knelt in front of the trunk at the end of my bed. He propped himself up on his elbows as I opened the chest and pulled two items out before I moved back over towards him.

“Move up the bed, lay in the center.”

Crawling back onto the bed, I hovered above him, before I began to move down his body. I kept eye contact with him the entire time. It’s okay, baby. I would never hurt you. “Do you know what this is, Spencer?”

I think hearing his name surprised him; he forgot that we weren’t technically in a scene yet. I had only acted this way because I wanted to bump his simmering arousal up to a flaming inferno. I knew my boy would become more nervous if he wasn’t a whimpering, desperate mess. He nodded.

I pushed his legs up until his knees were bent, then I kissed up his right thigh, moving towards his cock. “I want you to be ready for when I fuck you.” I offered in way of explanation right before I moved to run my tongue up the underside of his cock.

Spencer threw his head back, tossing it against my pillows. I wrapped my fingers around the base of his cock while I moved him into my mouth. I didn't suck as hard as I normally did, instead of letting saliva slip from my mouth to coat him. After a few moments, I pulled off.

"I want you to touch your cock, Spencer," I said, uncapping the lube. "You're not allowed to cum. Remember that when you touch yourself. If you get so close that it's painful to stop, you have no one to blame but yourself. And if you cum, I will punish you."

His Adam's apple bobbed, his eyes moving from the butt plug to my hands then back to his cock. He wrapped his long fingers around it while I coated the plug with lube. Eyes fixed firmly on my hands; he started a slow rhythm. What a good boy.

I stroked his thighs as I moved the plug into position against his ass. His face was flushed with a mix of arousal and embarrassment, I think. I just smirked at him. “Don’t get shy with me now, baby,” I said as I slowly began to push inside of him. “I’m going to have you begging me to fuck your tight little ass before the day is over.” He whimpered, his hand speeding up slightly. “You do know that, don’t you, Spencer? I’m going to make you such a little slut for me.” The plug went in further, with almost no real resistance from him. “Jesus, it looks like you’re already a fucking slut.” His whimpers and groans were coming faster now. “Look at how you’re taking this plug,” I started to fuck it into him slowly. “I knew you were dirty, Dr. Reid. But I didn’t expect this.”

With one final small push, it was seated inside him. I reached to grab his hand, pulling it off of his cock. His lip was between his teeth, his forehead dotted with sweat. "You did so well, Spencer," I praised him. "You're more needy than I thought. I think I might make you bounce on my cock later." I moved off of the bed, reaching down to pick up his underwear before I tossed them to him. "I thought it would take some time to get you to ride me, but you're such a little slut, I'm sure you'll be begging for it soon."

He looked so confused, his fingers picking up his underwear. “Wha-“ he panted, his hips moving against my bed, already starting to be overwhelmed by the sensation.

“Put on your underwear, Dr. Reid; leave your shirt unbuttoned. Then come back into the living room.” I gave him a wide smile. “You still have to read to me.”

I sat on the couch, flipping through the books Spencer had brought, waiting for him to emerge from my bedroom. He really had done so much better than I expected. I wasn’t exaggerating when I said I was going to have him bounce on my cock. The thought of him moving over me, his head thrown back while I pumped his cock caused heat to pool between my thighs.

My eyes didn’t raise to look at him when he walked into the room. He sat to the left of me, where he had been before. His cock was still hard, his precum was leaving a damp spot on his underwear. “Which book do you want to read me, Dr. Reid?”

He groaned. “I-I don’t know if I can finish the whole book like this,” he mumbled, flushing a deeper red that went down to his neck.

“You don’t have to finish, darling boy.” I rose up from the couch then, undoing my pants before shimming them down my hips. “You just have to read to me until I cum.”

Spencer’s eyes went wide. Flickering from the books then back to where I was removing my shirt. I wasn’t paying attention to what book he picked; ultimately, it didn’t matter, I’m not sure I would be able to pay enough attention during this to even process what he was reading.

I stood before him in my bra and panties. He brought the thick book up to his chest, never so much as blinking while I moved over him. I put my thighs on either of his right thigh before I sat down, pushing the seam of my pussy against him through my underwear. I gripped his shoulders, moving my mouth to the tender area where his shoulder met his neck. Placing a soft kiss there, I moved my right hand down his chest, skimming over his stomach, then applying a teasing pressure to his cock over his underwear.

“Come on, Dr. Reid. You told me you’d read to me.”

His first few words were sure. I was almost positive this was one of the many books he had memorized, meaning he wouldn’t need to rely on the book itself to keep reading. This was probably good, as at the first rock of my pussy against his thigh, he released a soft groan, interrupting his words.

Smirking, I moved my hips more purposefully against him. My hands came up to grip his hair, pulling harshly. His moan once again made his words falter. “What’s wrong Dr. Reid,” I whispered sweetly against his skin. “Can you not focus on your book?”

“It’s…It’s so hard, y/n.”

I licked the vein running up his neck before I sucked on the skin. “I can feel just how hard it is, Dr. Reid.” I moved my mouth up to his ear again. “Take my bra off.” I expected him to fumble with this task, but he put his right hand behind my back and removed my bra in seconds. You’ve been holding out on me, Doc. Leaning back, I moved my hands to my own breasts, thumbing my nipples as I listened to Spencer read his book, his words barely registering in my mind.

“You don’t need both hands to read, do you?” He shook his head, his worlds never faltering from the story. “Good. I know how hard it is for you to sit here with that plug inside you. I know you’re thinking about how it will feel when I fuck you.” There’s that whimper, I thought. “I’m thinking about it too, Spencer.” My hips began to grind against him faster. “Put the book down but keep reading to me. If you stop your words, I’ll stop moving. The sooner I cum, the sooner you can get back into my bed.”

He placed the book down; his words a whisper now as he recited the book. “Touch me, Spencer. Make me cum like a good boy so I can finally fuck you like the little slut you are.” His hands gripped my hips, guiding my movements against his thigh, his mouth against my neck while he continued mumbling words I could barely hear against my skin.

"I've thought about fucking you before, you know," I said, my pussy becoming wetter and wetter against him. "The first time was on the jet. You had some book open in your lap. You were stretched out on the couch." I groaned as Spencer moved my hips faster and faster. "I thought about the look on your face if I just came over to you and sat on your lap." I moved to kiss his neck again. "I wonder what they would have said then." Dropping my hand down to palm his hot, hard cock over his underwear. "What would they have said if they saw Dr. Spencer Reid's big, pretty boy cock sliding down my throat?"

He was groaning now in between words, but the words were yet to totally falter. “I guess that would be better than them seeing you get fucked, right?” One of his hands moved up to my breast to pinch my nipple. “What would they think if they knew that their boy wonder, their resident genius, wanted to get his ass fucked and treated like a dirty little thing?”

I was so, so close. “Come on, Agent Reid. Make me cum. Make me cum all over your thigh so I can make you cum so hard you see stars.”

His words faltered then; his mouth moved to my shoulder, kissing it softly before he said, “I’d let the entire world watch anything if it meant I got to fuck you.” With that, he bit down on my skin. That small amount of pain caused my orgasm to break like a wave against me. Spencer kept moving my hips back and forth to help me ride it out.

The world came back into focus slowly, my breathing still harsh against Spencer’s shoulder. Gripping his shoulders, I pulled back to kiss him softly. He tried to turn the kiss into something deeper, his need making him desperate. I pulled back, looking in his eyes. “When you go into the room we really begin,” I whispered. “Green, yellow, and red. I need you to know I’m so proud of you, darling boy, even if we just end here. You’ve done so well.”

He whimpered again, confirming once again that he had a praise kink. “I want more, Miss. Please?”

I moved off of his body to sit back on the couch, picking up the book he had set down. “Go into the bedroom, take off all of your clothes. Lay in the center of the bed, hands by your sides. Do not touch yourself. If you do, I will punish you.”

When I finally made my way into the room a minute later, I found Spencer right where I instructed him to be. His cock was still hard; he was breathing rapidly. I stood at the edge of the bed, slowly slipping my panties off before I knelt down to open the chest again.

I had given this first scene a lot of thought. One day, I wanted to restrain him with my handcuffs when I fucked him. I could just imagine how he'd blush whenever he saw them after that. But, for this I had decided to use arm restraints that attached to the bars on my headboard, wrapping around his wrist with a Velcro cuff; he could open them if he needed to. I moved up on his left side, fastening one restraint to the bed, then walking to the right side, doing the same. His eyes were on my face, so expectant and so trusting.

I crawled on to the bed then, sitting myself on his firm stomach, my wet heat touching his skin. I leaned over to grip one cuff before I said, "Give me your hand, Dr. Reid." He complied without complaint or hesitation, then he did it again with his left wrist. I scooted my body down his until I felt his pubic bone brush against my still sensitive pussy. His breath hitched. "What's wrong, Dr. Reid?" I asked as I moved further down, my ass now resting over his cock.

“I-I can feel you. You-you’re so close.” His hands started to pull against the restraints, itching to reach out and touch me, push me back even further so his cock would finally touch the paradise that was my wet cunt.

I tsked at him, pouting my lips. “I know, darling boy. It must be so hard.” I moved my hands to his chest, bracing myself on one hand while the other reached up to wrap around his throat. “It’s so hard to so fucking needy, isn’t it, baby?” I moved back another inch.

He was whining under me now, shifting his hips relentlessly. Leaning forward, I placed my lips centimeters away from his own, my grip on his throat tightening just a bit. “It wouldn’t take much, Dr. Reid.” I brushed my mouth against his, laughing when I heard the restraints jerking against the headboard bars. “You know I won’t let you fuck me…but all it would take is just a shift of my hips.” I rocked back a bit, bringing my pussy right there, before drawing back up. “What would you give me for that, Dr. Reid? What would you do to feel my hot, wet, tight, little pussy rub against your pretty boy cock?”

“Anything,” his voice was so much higher than normal when he spoke. “I’ll do anything, Miss. Please. Please.”

You’re so good at this, baby. “You sound very pretty when you beg, Dr. Reid.” I placed one more chaste kiss on his top lip before I went back to a sitting position. Bracing my hands on his hips, I lifted my pelvis over his groin to settle on the tops of his thighs. His strangled groan was music to my ears. “You have been such a good boy…” I pretended to ponder this. “Tell you what, if you promise to ride my cock, to swirl your hips while you fuck yourself on top of me, I’ll let you feel me.”

He was nodding desperately, still pulling against the arm restraints. “Yes. Please. Please, Miss. I’ll do whatever you want.”

I moved his cock to lay flat against his pubic bone, the head pointing upwards towards his face. “I want you to watch, Dr. Reid.” I could feel myself dripping when I moved forward. Slowly, slowly, slowly, I placed the lips of my cunt around the width of his cock.

“Fuck." Spencer's eyes were glued to where my pussy was finally touching his cock. "You're so…fuck, you feel so good, Miss.”

This was the first time I had felt a man against me like this in longer than I wanted to admit. I should be scared, but I just couldn't be. It felt so right to be against him right now. I started moving my hips forwards and backward, much like I did when I rode his thigh. I looked down, watching his cock disappear as I slide my pussy over him. This wasn’t even sex in the way most people considered it, but being here, sharing this moment with Spencer was one of the most erotic and intimate moments of my life.

With one finally slide of my hips, I lifted off of him, getting off the bed completely.

“No, no, no, Miss, please come back.”

I looked back at him over my shoulder. His cock was wet with my arousal, his neck was flushed a bright red, his messy curls were sticking to his forehead, and his wrists were still pulling against the restraints. He is the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen.

“My, my, Dr. Reid.” I moved back to the chest, reaching down to pull out my harness. “You might be the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen. Look at you,” I shot him a look of fake disapproval while I stepped into the harness, bringing it up to secure it around my hips. I had selected this strap-on for the specific reason that I could change the size of the dildo attached to it. So, for today I could use something smaller on my boy…until he was ready for something rougher, or bigger. Originally, I had planned on selecting the smallest dildo, but after seeing how easily he took the plug, I decided to move to the next size up.

Spencer watched with wide eyes while I pulled out my “cock”. I smirked at him. “Do you like it, Dr. Reid?” I slid the dildo into place, clip it into place. I moved closer to him, crawling up the bed, sitting on his right side. I brushed my fingers over his chest, feeling his racing heartbeat. Moving so quickly he didn’t have a chance to brace, I struck quickly, whipping my left hand up to backhand across the cheek. Rising up on my knees, I moved closer to him, gripping a handful of his hair with one hand, my other bracing myself on the headboard. “I am getting really fucking tired of not having my questions answered, Dr. Reid.”

He was positively squirming now, his pupils were huge, his mouth hanging open. “I’m sorry Miss, I’m so sorry. I can’t- I can’t think when you’re around me.” I had to fight very hard to stop my lips from spreading into a smile, but I think he saw my lips twitch anyway.

“Brat,” I muttered, yanking on his hair again, causing him to let out another whimper. “I think you need to apologize, Dr. Reid. You want to be my good boy, don’t you?” I tilted my head to the side, regarding him curiously. “Because, if you’re my good boy, I’ll let you cum. But…if you’re not,” I leaned down to whisper to him. “Well, bad boys get their pretty little asses fucked, but they don’t get to cum.”

“I’m sorry Miss,” he whined out. “I’m so sorry. Please let me apologize.”

“Open your mouth.” He did so without question, his arms pulling on the restraints harder when I spit into his mouth. “Swallow it.” Such a good boy. “Now, I want you to suck my cock, Dr. Reid. Can you do that? Suck my cock and get it nice and wet before I fuck you with it.”

His eyes were on my face; I could see just the smallest flicker of nervousness in those pretty golden-brown eyes. I’d never hurt you, baby. You know that. Almost as if he heard my thoughts, he opened his mouth for me. Releasing his hair, I brought my hand to the dildo, guiding it into his mouth. “That’s it, you’re doing so good, Dr. Reid.” I gave a few very shallow thrusts of my hips, watching his eyes flutter while his cheeks hollowed out. “I knew the first time you sucked my fingers that day on your couch that you’d be so good at sucking cock.” I moved my hand from the dildo to place it lightly against his throat. “You’re nothing but a cock slut though, right, Dr. Reid?” He moaned around me; I squeezed his throat in response.

Pulling out of his mouth, I smiled down at him while I moved further away. I placed a soft kiss on his cheek before I moved down the bed. “You know why I left your legs free, don’t you Dr. Reid?”

“I’m not sure Miss.” His response was breathy and immediate. You’re learning, my nervous boy.

“Oh, the great Dr. Reid isn’t sure? That must be first. I guess it’s probably hard for your big brain to work when all the blood is going to your cock.” I grabbed the lube from the side of the bed to place it beside his thigh. I pushed his legs up roughly, so his knees were bent again. “I left your legs free, Dr. Reid, so it’s easier to make you take my cock.”

I brought my right hand up to his cock, my grip not firm enough to be satisfying, but I wanted him to focus on that sensation, especially now. In reality, it probably didn’t matter, my boy looked too far gone to be embarrassed anymore. With my left, I grabbed the base of the butt plug, slowly pulling it out.

His breath caught in his throat, his top teeth digging into his bottom lip so hard it whitened. “What’s wrong, baby?” My tone was condescending as I worked the plug out a bit, before I pushed it back in a bit, fucking it out of him gently, much like how I fucked it into him. “What do you need, Dr. Reid?”

He knew what I wanted, I had told him multiple times, but will my boy be brave enough to give it to me. I pulled the plug out completely, tossing it to the side before I grabbed the lube. I squirted some into my right hand before I started to slick up the dildo, my eyes never leaving his.

“I-I want you to fuck me, Miss.”

“Hmm,” I acknowledged, my hands still moving up and down my ‘cock.’ “I’m not sure what you mean, darling boy. You’ll have to be a bit more specific.”

Spencer’s head thrashed, his thighs clenched, his stomach muscles tensed. “I need you to fuck my ass, Miss…Please. Please fuck my ass, Miss.”

My hand stilled. Goddamnit. Hearing those words out of him made my pussy clench, my own wetness starting to drip down my thighs. "All you have to do is ask, Dr. Reid.”

I moved into position between his thighs, bringing both of my hands up to grip his slim hips. Scooting forward, I lifted him up a bit until my knees were barely under him, just enough to tilt his pelvis up so I could see him. I ran one of my hands up his inner thigh. “You’re even pretty here, Dr. Reid.” I lifted my hips slightly, pressing the dildo against his asshole. “Hold still, baby. I know you’re so needy and that makes it so hard, but you can hold still for me, can’t you?”

He nodded rapidly, his hands fisted into balls, his wrists tugging against the restraints, his teeth still sunk into his lower lip. Usually, I would demand his words, but I understood how overwhelming this was for him. Free pass, my nervous boy. I slowly started to push inside of him. My gaze kept flicking between my ‘cock’ entering him and his face, watching for any reaction, any sign of hesitancy.

“Please,” he whimpered.

I started making slow strokes, fucking the dildo into him in shallow, small thrusts. When I had about 4 inches inside of him, I put some more lube on my hand. I stroked some of it on the remaining 3 inches of the dildo, making sure I could bottom out inside him. The remaining lube I left on my hand…the same hand I brought up to grab his cock with.

“FUCK.” Spencer’s shoulders were raising off of the bed, his eyes locked on my movements.

“Does it feel good, Dr. Reid?”

"Green, green, green, fucking green," he muttered. Under normal circumstances, I would have laughed, but right now I just pitched my hips forward, burying the dildo inside of him. He let out a strangled moan that sounded like my name when my thighs hit his body.

"Look at that," I said softly. "Look at what a good little slut you are, Dr. Reid?" I started to thrust slowly, looking at his reactions to see which strokes seemed to have the biggest effect on him. Being a profiler comes in handy at the strangest times. “You’re such a pretty cock slut, baby.” The tempo of my thrusts sped up while I looked down to watch the dildo move in and out of his tight entrance.

“Miss, fuck,” he whimpered. “Miss, please fuck me harder.”

I moved my hips faster, watching as his mouth opened in a silent scream. I gripped his cock firmer in my hand. Building up a rhythm between jerking him off and fucking him. “Is this what you want, Dr. Reid? You want to be used like this? Like a filthy slut?”

“Yes, yes, Miss, please.” His eyes were fixed on my hand on his cock, on my hips moving quickly. “Miss, Miss, you’re so- Miss, I’m going to cum.”

“Oh, you are, are you?” I teased, slowing my hand slightly. My thighs still slapping against him as I fucked him.

“Please Miss,” he begged. “Please let me cum. Please, I’ll do anything. Please, please, I’m so fucking close.”

I gripped his cock harder, my pace never slowing. “Come on, Dr. Reid. Cum for me like the dirty thing you are.”

At my words, he let out the loudest moan I’d heard him make yet. His back was arching off the bed, as rope after rope of cum erupted from his cock. I slowed my pace, only giving a few shallow thrusts to work him through his orgasm.

Right as his orgasm started to end, I slowly withdrew the portion of the dildo that was still inside him.

I leaned over him to quickly undo the cuffs, freeing him. Moving off the bed, I unstrapped myself, letting the harness fall to the floor before I dashed into the bathroom connected to my room. Wetting the washcloth, I had already laid out, I grabbed my other supplies and hurried back into the room. Spencer was where I left him, his eyes fixed on the ceiling, unseeing.

I moved to sit between his legs. First, I wiped the cum and lube off his cock, murmuring my praises the entire time before I cleaned up the remaining lube from between his cheeks. Tossing the rag into the floor, I moved to kneel beside him on the bed. "Spencer," I whispered. "Spencer, you did so well. You were so wonderful."

His gaze fixed on mine, his eyes starting to fill with tears, his face a mask of confusion. “Y/n,” he said, his voice raspy. “Why-why-“

I pushed his hair off his forehead, bringing his arms in towards his body to check his wrists. “It’s okay, Spencer. It is fine. Your adrenaline and endorphins are hitting your body right now. This is what I was talking about that might happen. It’s called sub drop.” I cupped his jaw, my thumb brushing over his lips. “I’m right here, Spencer. I’m right here. And I’m so proud of you.”

I wanted to wait until he asked me to touch him, to be sure that was what he needed, but I just acted on instinct. I laid down beside of him and wrapped my arms around him. He turned his body to face mine, his knees curled up to hit my thighs. I stroked my hands over his back, murmuring softly to him the whole time.

After a few minutes had passed, and his breathing had evened out, I spoke again. “Spence? Do you think you can take a shower? The heat will make you feel better.”

He sniffled, his eyes never rising to meet mine. “I…I don’t know if I can leave you.”

In that moment, the tiny part of my heart that didn’t already belong to Spencer Reid, this marvelous, wonderful man, was cemented into his grasp. “Spencer, I need you to look at me, can you do that?”

His soft eyes finally rose to meet mine. They were wide and anxious and swimming with a much bigger and more frightening emotion. “Spencer, I’m not going to leave you. I’m going to take a shower with you. Then after we get cleaned up, we’re going to order some food and watch whatever you want to while we sit on my couch.” My words were hurried and dripping with honesty.

My darling boy’s face lite up with hope so bright it threatened to consume me. “You’ll stay with me?”

“You don’t even have to ask, Spence.” I pressed a kiss to his forehead.

The remainder of our Saturday went like I had planned. In our shower, I held his body under the warm water, I washed his hair, and I listened while he told me whatever fact came to his mind in that moment. After we were done, I got his messenger bag and brought him his clothes.

Together, we cuddled on my couch. Him in his old Caltech t-shirt and sweatpants and me in loose t-shirt and leggings. We found some sci-fi show that he said was good that I had never seen to watch while we ate our takeout. I listened to everything he told me about the show, holding his body close to mine.

I felt the tension rise up inside of him the later it got. Which is why I turned to him with an over-exaggerated yawn and asked him the question he was too afraid to ask me.

“Hey, Doc?” I said softly. “It’s getting pretty late…and after…after everything we did today, I don’t really want to be alone. Would you mind staying with me?”

The relief I felt radiate off of him in that moment was so powerful I don’t know if I’ll ever forget the feeling. “Of course, y/n. I’d really like that.”

After I stripped and remade my bed and cleaned up any stray items that I may have missed earlier, I lead Spencer into my bedroom. I fell asleep that night with my arms wrapped around him, his back to my chest. I held my hand against his chest, feeling his heartbeat slow as he fell asleep in my arms. It took a long time for sleep to finally find me, but I didn’t mind. I was content to just feel the heart beating inside the chest of the best person I had ever known.

Series tag list: @abschaffer2 @liaabsurd @brokenanxiety @thisiscalmandits-dr @less-intelligent-spencerreid @reidsmyhusband-emilysmymistress @cielo1984 @sarcasticsagittarius1998 @101donuts @heyitssarahk @creepingfromthecorners @imjusthereformggcontent @fanfictionislifetho @annestine @boiled-onionrings @gublerspublers @dolanfivsosxox @lamusaeuterpe @publiusvirgilius @suzystuff

Permanent Taglist: @rachelxwayne @pinkdiamond1016 @sickeninglyshoujo @justagirllookingforherplace @nanocoool

#Criminal Minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fan fic #criminal minds smut #Spencer Reid #Spencer Reid Fanfic #Spencer Reid Fan fiction #Spencer Reid smut #Dr Reid #Dr Spencer Reid #Reid smut #Dr Spencer Reid Smut #Spencer Reid x you #Spencer Reid x reader #Spencer Reid x y/n #dr Spencer Reid x reader #dr Spencer reid x you #dr reid smut #ayhtdia

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thatasianstereotype · 4 years

Text

Shit. I Got To Deal With This Bitch (Again).

The third installment of my Adrien x Damian AU.

First: Fuck. I’m Gay.

Second: Damn, You’re Looking Fine.

Well, would you look at that? I’m not dead after all. And this took a while to put together understatement of the fucking century. The reason is because life is a busy little shit the English language will not cooperate. I’m thinking of a scene I want to write and somehow words are lost in translating that into the computer and I end up with a white blank screen in the end.

But moving on to the fic. At first, I was going to have the whole Gabriel-being-put-in-jail and former-friends-thing put as an aftermath because I really wanted to write Marinette and Adrien meeting the Waynes. But I decided to make the aftermath a full-blown fic from @michaelshadow7779′s ideas and extend the trilogy into a four-part series.

This part will be focused on what happened to Liar-la, Ms. Bustier’s class trying to gain back their friendship with Marinette and Adrien, and Gabriel getting a special visit from both Robin and Ladybug.

Again, this is a crack writing where creative liberties were definitely taken.

Lila Rossi is a fucking bitch and everyone —Like everyone this time— knew it.

Her reputation was now in shambles (she’s now known as that pathological liar or that lying bitch) and Ms. Bustier’s class could only stare at her with hatred and anger —feelings that were once directed at Marinette.

No one entertained her lies anymore. No one really hung out with her anymore. She sat at the back of the class, staring daggers at both Adrien and Marinette all day (just wishing for an akuma that will never appear).

Unfortunately for her, Lila couldn’t transfer out of class and with only 2 more months of the school year left, she couldn’t transfer out of school so she was stuck dealing with the consequences of her actions: being a fucking social outcast.

Because the class was not at all happy with their supposed friend. Tensions ran high during school. Things took a turn for the worse when Ms. Bustier tried to “fix” things in her own way, mentioning how the only reason Lila lied was because of her “disease” and the girl simply wanted to make friends.

Needless to say, the class did not appreciate their teacher making them out to be fools all this time.

It was Alya who ripped her a new one. Césaire definitely has a set of lungs on her. And Adrien would be lying if he didn’t say how utterly satisfying it was to watch.

Karma was a bitch.

Payback was a bitch.

And Adrien was fucking living in the aftermath. He wondered if it was mean (probably but he didn’t care) that he wished he had popcorn right now.

All in all, life returned back to normal.

Well, kind of.

Unfortunately, with the 2 months left in the school year, Ms. Bustier couldn’t exactly be let go because apparently Mr. Damocles didn’t want to deal with the whole paperwork, trying to find a new teacher to replace her, and dealing with the so-called Akuma class.

That fucker.

So essentially, he left her at the mercy of her unhappy class, saying she will be let go at the end of the school year.

Ms. Bustier was unhappy with the arrangement. The class was unhappy with it too. Probably even more so. Since they still got to deal with Rossi’s bitch ass on a daily basis.

The remaining 2 months of school were spent in a passive-aggressive war. Teacher vs. Students. Where technically the teacher should be respected and they should learn from her but the class was unleashing their collective pettiness.

And Caline Bustier was fucking done with this job. She wanted to go back in time to when she thought being a teacher was a good idea and shake her past self silly. At this point, she was just counting the days until she can leave for good.

“Kim. That’s the third time you slept in class this week. If you don’t pay attention, you won’t pass the test next week.”

“Hold up. I got to ask the certified pathological liar where I put all the fucks I give.”

“Ok. Don’t forget to ask Marinette if you can actually trust her answer.”

It was glorious.

Adrien and Marinette were definitely enjoying the show.

Marinette put down her sketchbook and stared at Damian for a minute. “You’ve been here for a month and a half already. Are you still doing business for your dad?”

Damian Wayne became a common sight around Françoise Dupont High School and can usually be seen around Adrien and Marinette. After a week of constantly seeing him hang around lunch or in after school activities/clubs, seeing a Wayne soon lost its novelty and people accepted it as the new norm.

“I’m already done with what I need to do at WE’s Paris branch.” He casually plucked flowers from the ground to make a crown for his mon amour who was happily chatting with Luka and Kagami.

“So why are you still here? Don’t you have your own education to finish?”

“My schooling is of no concern. I already earned my diploma a few months ago. It was not at all difficult when I’m already light years ahead of my peers in regards to the dismal educational system my Father forced me to attend."

She raised an unamused eyebrow. “Uh huh. And your family isn’t worried at all about you, a minor, being in a foreign country all by yourself?”

“They know I’m here. I already informed Father that I will be extending my stay here.”

“And he just accepted it? Just like that?”

"I’m responsible enough to handle myself. I surely do not need Batman watching over me. And you don’t need to worry at all. I’ve been away from home for far longer.”

“You’re completely missing the point.”

“On the contrary, I thought I answered the question perfectly.”

When they weren’t playing a petty war with Bustier, the class was trying to get back into Marinette and Adrien’s good graces by inviting them to everything and trying to include the pair in their lives again. They wanted to be friends with their Everyday Ladybug and Sunshine Child again.

“Want to do homework together?”

“How about a study session?”

“We’re having a sleepover at Juleka’s place, Marinette. We can talk about each other’s love lives like the good old times.”

“Wanna see the new movie that came out, Adrien? I’ll even pay for your favorite snacks.”

“Come on you two. Let’s hang out in the park. We can get Andre’s ice cream too. It’ll be fun.”

Spoiler alert: It don’t work. At all.

“Hey Marinette, Adrien! Why don’t you sit with us today?” Alya eagerly waved at them from where she was sitting with Nino.

It was a part of a long list of efforts that the class is trying to include the pair in. And it would be nice if it was just to be nice and friendly, you know. Adrien wasn’t going to be outright mean to them even though they fucking deserve it after how they treated the beautiful and kind goddess that was Marinette because Mari asked him to “Play nice, kitty”.

But the class kept trying to slide the whole Liar-la thing under the rug as if it was nothing. As if they didn’t shit all over their good name for a two-faced bitch. As if they had no part in making them feel like outcasts just weeks before. As if they didn’t called them hateful names or gave them scornful glares.

And that’s just fucking wrong. Because it wasn’t nothing. And they weren’t good pals anymore. So stop fucking acting like it.

Adrien was so done with his former friends/classmates. Marinette even more so.

Because apparently, saying “Yeah, We want nothing to do with you anymore.” is not fucking clear enough that the pair wanted nothing to do with their former friends.

Like what the actual fuck.

Luckily, Mari can sense her kitty’s bad mood and quickly laid a hand on his arm and led them to their seats in the middle row since Liar-la took the back and they will be damned if they sit next to her.

Alya was utterly aghast. She and the others were trying their best to have things be back to where they were before. Doesn’t Marinette and Adrien want things to be like they were before? When everyone was friends and they were making happy memories together?

Why won’t they accept their olive branch? They’ll be friends again and everything will be okay just like it was before Lila came.

Let it be known that Alya Césaire was not a patient person. Like at all.

She was fuming (like you could see the smoke coming out of her ears) as she walked up to Marinette’s desk, just bursting at the seams with frustration. “I don’t get it. Why are you so cosy with Adrien instead of us? Did you forget he supported Lila too?

“That was—” Marinette spoke up in defense of her everything-that-actually-matters brother.

But Alya ignored her and bulldozed right over, slamming her hands down on her desk. “Yeah. He changed his mind later on but the point still stands that he was on Lila’s side just like us so why are you willing to be friends with him but not me and Nino? We were best buds.”

“Adrien was friends with Lila unwillingly, unlike you guys. His douchebag of a father wanted him to play nice with that harlot for some reason and he had to go along with it or risk being pulled out of school.”

Alya rolled her eyes (She literally rolled her eyes at that) before crossing her arms in front of her chest. “Please. That’s probably a pretty little excuse he gave you be on your good side again. We all know Gabriel will never actually do it.”

“Are you perhaps referring to the man who rejected the idea of a birthday part for his own son or makes Adrien attend constant photo shoots and a crazy schedule to follow that makes it hard for him to hang out with his friends regularly. That Gabriel?”

At that, Alya faltered a bit as she uncrossed her arms.

“Look, Alya. I’m fine with being friendly classmates but I’m not going to be your friend again.”

And Alya —who wanted things to just be okay again and wanted to go back to being Marinette’s best friend, who was tired of days trying to put so much effort into being Marinette’s best gal again only to be rejected every single time— just let whatever came into her mind to slip out of her mouth. She didn’t watch what she said next and in doing so burnt the last bridge she ever had to Marinette.

“Maybe Lila was actually right for once when she said the only reason you’re close to Adrien was to use him to get ahead in the fashion industry.”

Oh shit.

She really done did it now.

It was at this point that Marinette’s infinite patience and kindness snapped. Adrien scooted his chair back a bit to get out of the crossfire. He’s a dumbass kitty but he still has self-preservation.

The grip on her pencil tightened as her eyes narrowed and grew darker, her voice ice cold.

“You were the one who decided we were done being friends, Césaire.”

Alya was taken aback, frozen at the biting harshness Marinette directed at her. Whatever comeback she had died in her throat.

Mari let out a deep breath and her voice was back to neutral. “Look. Maybe someday in the future we can be friends again. But not right now. Please respect my decision.”

And that was the end of that.

Well kind of.

Because the ice queen treatment didn’t deter her at all. Alya still persistently tried to get Marinette to be friends with her again until Nino pulled her away and forced her to stop it with her ridiculous antics which aren’t working.

The rest of their former friends now classmates got the message and left the pair alone. They were friendly and cordial with each other as common courtesy dictate but they had no interaction beyond that. They were nowhere near as close as they once were before Liar-la happened.

Anyway, school went back to normal. Well as normal as it could be with all the recent changes.

Nothing was as it was before.

And Marinette and Adrien were fine with that.

Mari was hanging out with Aurore and Mireille for the afternoon so Damian and Adrien had Mari’s room all to themselves. They were currently playing video games.

And although the Wayne boy was the perfect gentleman who doesn’t let his hormones rule over common courtesy and a proper courtship, Plagg was there to supervise the lovebirds (with a boatload of cheese to keep him company of course).

He likes to think of himself as laid back and chill who cares deeply about his kittens. And Adrien is a pure innocent little bean.

Don’t get him wrong. He does like Wayne as a person. The kid’s attitude and personality is a fun riot to witness. But the major plus is how it is beyond obvious Wayne adores and cares greatly about Adrien. He is a good boyfriend to his chaotic gay sunshine baby.

But after all the shit and drama that went down with his scumbag of a dad, Plagg was just feeling a tad protective of his kitty.

Just a tad.

They have been dating for close to a month now. He wonders if they are going to do a one-month anniversary. Is that excessive? Or was that normal? But Adrien still can’t get over how he landed such a hot and amazing guy as a beau.

If only he could go back in time to visit his insecure and confused little self and reassure him that they had game all along.

“Fuck. I lost.”

Dami smirked. “That makes it 7 to 5 in my favor.”

“I don’t care if you’re drop dead gorgeous. I’ll beat your pretty face in the next round.”

Hot-And-Sexy had an amused grin on his face. “I love you too, babe.”

Marinete and Damian are finally making a plan to get Hawk Moth to answer for his crimes. Needless to say, they have their differences on how to handle Gabriel Agreste.

“I vote to have Hawk Moth taste my blade.”

“We’re not killing Adrien’s dad no matter how much he deserves it.”

“I can get away with it.”

“So can I. But murder is still illegal.”

Naturally, discussing how to confront Gabriel and coming with a good solid plan that satisfies both teenagers took some time.

Adrien entered Mari’s room, humming a bit as he carried a tray filled with homemade snacks. He perked up seeing his two favorite people in the world getting along so well.

“Hey guys! What are you up to?”

Damian and Marinette glanced at each other for a split second. They didn’t want their Chaton to worry about Hawk Moth so they didn’t share any specifics.

It was Dami who spoke up. “We are discussing the legalities of assassination.”

Mari facepalmed.

Luckily, Adrien was a pure oblivious child. “That’s nice, babe.”

With all the strange things he’s seen (namely, the Miraculous and getting powers from tiny little talking animals), Gabriel will like to say he shouldn’t be surprised.

But he was.

Luckily, he had enough self-control to not show his surprise in an obvious way, just a raised eyebrow towards the two superheroes standing in the middle of his office.

“To what do I owe the pleasure, Mademoiselle Ladybug and Monsieur Robin?” Pleasant and neutral.

Ladybug he can kind of understand her presence. He is a supervillain after all. Wait. Maybe ex-supervillain now. Because he hasn’t been doing villain things for a while now since he misplaced Nooroo’s brooch and couldn’t find it no matter how many boxes of unsold Miraculous replicas he went through. And he went through a lot (that is not an understatement). Amazing how much free time he has when he isn’t stalking on the watch for negative feelings.

But what was Robin doing here? He wasn’t aware the Gotham sidekick was in Paris in the first place.

“We are aware of your alter ego, Hawk Moth.”

He sighed internally. This wasn’t going to end well. But he hasn’t gotten this far by bowing down easily.

“Just because I am a genius recluse does not mean I have supervillain tendencies.”

Ladybug was unimpressed as she crossed her arms and stare at him with a deadpan look. “But you do have supervillain tendencies. I have yours and Nathalie’s miraculous who told us all about your plans.”

Huh, no wonder he couldn’t find them.

But anyway, the gig was up. Nooroo and Duusu were very emotional blabbermouths. The main reason why he couldn’t let them out of his sight —besides needing them to transform into bad guys of course.

“Then you know I had a good reason why I became Hawk Moth.”

“To bring your wife back. Yes, I am aware of your ‘master’ plan.”

Maybe he can appeal to their sympathy. After all, heroes got to have empathy, right? “It was for Adrien’s sake to have his family back together.”

Apparently, that was the wrong thing to say.

Because next thing he knew he had a razor sharp sword against his neck. He didn’t even see Robin move.

“Do not speak of his name, you traitor scum.” The Gotham hero growled. “How dare you preach about your son’s happiness when you are the one who have been neglecting him for the past years. Do not say you care for the boy when you never once showed an ounce of love towards him.”

Why is Robin so protective towards Adrien? Do they know each other well?

But Gabriel’s questions were immediately banished to the back of his mind. Because right now, he was righteously fearing for his life. Prison sounded better than death. He glanced towards Ladybug. He knew she, at least, wouldn’t let him die. She was the picture perfect hero after all.

Who was facepalming at the situation. “For the last time, we are not killing Agreste.”

Unfortunately, Robin did not remove the sword. “And as I keep saying, no one will have to know.”

“I will. I am literally standing right here as a witness.”

“You may look away if you are squeamish.”

“...That’s not the problem.” It was time for Ladybug to pull out the big guns. “And if you go through with this, you will make your boyfriend cry and he will no longer want to date you.”

It took a few seconds but Robin eventually lowered the sword and addressed Gabriel. “Do not presume that because you have no received death today that you do not deserve it. The only reason why your guts have not decorated this room is because I do not wish to make my mon amour shed tears for such a despicable man.”

Ladybug spoke up next. “We are going to report you to the authorities. Robin and I have enough evidence to put you away for life.”

To live for another day, Gabriel makes the smart choice of quickly surrendering right then and there.

“Mon amour, I come bearing both good and bad news.”

Adrien looked at Dami confused. “Okay? What’s the bad news?”

“Your sister have unfortunately stopped my attempt to slay your wicked father.”

Aww.

Adrien’s squishy little heart filled with endearing fondness at how much Hot-And-Sexy cared about him.

“Killing my father isn’t worth going to jail, Dami. I’m sure you can pull off orange but Mari will probably bar me from ever visiting you to teach you a lesson.”

He considered that for a moment. “That is true. Marinette is a frightening terror.”

“She’s the greatest thing to happen to me.”Adrien swooned at his goddess before remembering his boyfriend was with him. “You’re a very close second.”

But Dami was smiling fondly. “I know. I knew what I was getting into when I asked you out. I will never get in the way between your sibling bond.”

Aww.

He could feel his squishy little heart almost explode from all this sugary cuteness from his vain and egotistical Adonis.

“You’re adorable. So what’s the good news you have for me?”

“Marinette and I have finally dealt with your father. He will answer for his crimes in front of the Parisian authorities and you will not deal with the repercussions of being related to someone as vile as he.”

“Does this mean I don’t have to legally change my name to Dupain-Cheng after all?”

“You’re already one. Not sharing their name does not make you any less of one.”

Adrien beamed, smiling brighter than any sun. He loved being part of the Dupain-Cheng family and it was nice to be acknowledged as one of them.

“Of course. Being a Wayne is an honor too.” Damian said casually as if he was simply talking about the weather. Only the twitch of his fingers belied his nervousness.

Adrien interlocked their fingers together. “You have to buy me a pretty ring first, Mr. Hot-And-Sexy.”

The next week was kind of crazy to say the least.

Gabriel Agreste was outed as Hawk Moth and Natalie as Mayura to the public. They were promptly put in jail.

For all their contingency plans, Marinette and Damian had nothing to worry about after all. Adrien being a literal sunshine and Paris’ darling model was what saved him from being a pariah and outcast. The public knew that Adrien was the victim here and not part of Hawk Moth’s plans at all (Be serious. Can you imagine Sunshine child actually having an evil streak in him? No? That’s right. Because it is impossible). People were more sympathetic about Adrien having such a douchebag as a father than the possibility that he was evil like said douchebag.

After that whole drama mess, Ladybug and Chat Noir announced their retirement to Paris’ dismay. But eh. Without akumas running around, they can leave Paris’ future to the police (since it’s you know, their job to keep the peace and not teenagers who is still winging it as they kick ass).

Marinette and Adrien just wanted to focus on their future without any other crazy shenanigans.

He already said it before. But it still bears repeating.

Lila Rossi is a bitch.

The only thing Gabriel did right was throw her under the bus when he was caught. He told the police and superheroes how Lila helped him cause akumas with her lies and manipulation. Who knew her destroyed reputation could plummet even further? Understandably, her mother was not at all pleased with her daughter’s antics.

For being a terrorist and an indecent person, Lila was immediately arrested and deported to Italy (and that’s the last they ever heard of her thank everything Mari thinks is holy).

With the whole Hawkmoth thing out of the way and he didn’t have to worry about his shitty dad ever again, Adrien can now focus on his biggest challenge yet.

School will be over in a few days and summer will be here. Which means: It’s time to finally meet the Waynes.

Oh fuck. He was going to meet the Batfam.

And even though Dami assured him that his family will like him, he was still nervous.

Fuck that. He was absolutely 100% freaking out!

Thank goodness Mari was coming along for the ride.

Taglist:

@iglowinggemma28

#ml x dc #ml salt #ml salt fic #lila rossi salt #alya cesaire salt #bustier salt #gaydrien #adrien is a hot mess #adrien agreste x damian wayne #adridami #adrien deserves better #marinette deserves better #bamf marinette #a 3.7K fic people #crack writing

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