#he's clearly enjoy himself maybe he shouldn't clock out

[avatar-anna]

Hello! I was wondering if you got a request i sent recently? 🤔 it was about dad!harry with Y/N and the girls having their periods all synced up (if you did and didn’t like it that’s totally fine too!!)

Merry and Bright

Young Dad! Harry x Young Mom! Reader Universe

Merry Christmas from your favorite fictional family! They're all grown up in this one! Enjoy!xx

*.*

When Harry woke up with a small foot in his face, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised, but he was.

He blinked slowly, trying to remember if he and his wife went to bed alone or not. Looking to his side, he saw Y/n sound asleep with her back facing him, a small body in pajamas that matched every member of this family's—cream colored with decorated sugar cookies on them—stretched horizontally across the bed, hence the foot in his face.

Looking at the clock by his bed, Harry's brows raised. It was just after eight, rather late for Christmas morning, though most of the kids were a little older now, and Charlie notoriously slept like the dead despite being five. Still, he expected, maybe even missed, being woken up before the sun came up on Christmas morning because Santa had come and presents had to be opened right away.

Waking up with a little foot in the face or with multiple bodies bouncing on the bed, he wasn't sure which he preferred.

"The morning I don't wake up with a limb in my face could not come soon enough," he grumbled to himself anyway, carefully trying to move his sleeping daughter into a more comfortable position, only to end up with Charlie sprawled across his chest entirely, one hand holding onto a strand of his hair by his ear.

"You should've thought about that before you went and got me pregnant again."

Harry blew out an amused breath. Clearly, Y/n was not as asleep as he thought she was. He tugged a strand of her hair that was splayed across her pillow. "You were all for it at the time."

"I'm not the one complaining about the—Oh," Y/n hissed, her shoulders tensing a little.

Concerned, Harry shifted their still-sleeping daughter in the space between him and Y/n so he could shuffle closer to his wife. He rested a hand on her back and kissed the top of her head. "Everything alright?"

"Yeah, just cramps. I'll be fine in a minute," she said as she began to shuffle out of bed.

Harry moved his hand to her shoulder to push her back onto the bed. He handed the five-year-old over to Y/n, who immediately curled into her mother's arms. "I'm sorry, love. Why don't you hold onto this little nugget while I get your heating pad."

"It's okay, H. Everyone will be up soon, and—"

"Let me take care of Christmas waffles. You can come down when Charlie wakes up, okay?"

His love smiled sleepily at him before taking his hand in hers and kissing it. "You're too sweet."

"Remember that the next time you're annoyed with me," Harry said with a chuckle. With a kiss to her forehead, he said, "Merry Christmas, my love," then slipped into a robe and left the room.

After getting Y/n's heating pad and making sure Y/n and Charlie were comfortable in bed, he went about getting his day started. He knew he was in for a long day, so he set out to make their traditional big Christmas breakfast for the whole family—waffles, bacon, cut-up fruit, and hot cocoa. He lit up the Christmas tree and turned on the train track he and Julian had been setting up since Jules was seven years old, ensuring everything was ready for when everyone filed down to open presents. Year after year, Christmas morning began later and later. Honestly, Harry thought he would come to appreciate sleeping in an extra couple of hours, but he often found himself missing the days when all of his babies were living at home and opened Christmas presents at six in the morning.

There were perhaps fifteen minutes of peace before Harry could hear sounds of life upstairs. It was like a small wave, a shuffling of feet and the rush of water as his children began brushing their teeth, then there was the thunderous sound of feet rushing down the stairs as the realization that it wasn't an ordinary morning struck. GiGi and Natalia were the first ones to skid to a halt downstairs, excited smiles on their faces as they beheld the small mountain of gifts under the Christmas tree and the smell of waffles coming from the kitchen.

"Merry Christmas!"

Natalia bounded over to Harry, jumping into his arms. He had a split second to set his batter-covered spoon down to catch her. "Merry Christmas, Peanut. Did you wake everyone up yet?"

"Almost," Geneva said as she picked at the bowl of fruit on the kitchen counter. "Simone said we can't wake her up until nine."

"Ah. I see," Harry said, knowing full well that his oldest daughter had been out late with her friends last night. "Well, why don't you go and tell her that I'm going to give away her presents and her waffle if she doesn't come down soon."

Natalia and Geneva grinned devilishly, very much on board with bugging their older sister. They scurried back upstairs, giggling to each other as they did so.

Julian was the next to come down, his light brown hair was wet and curly from his shower, a small frown on his face from the early wake-up call. "Collette threw a shoe at me for taking all the hot water."

Harry knew there was probably more to it than that, so he just ruffled his only son's hair affectionately as Jules passed him by the stove. "Be patient, Jules, they're—"

"Going through a lot, I know," he said, shaking his head a little. "Doesn't mean I had to get a shoe thrown at me for it. On Christmas, no less."

Harry gave Jules a pointed look, not completely buying his son's innocence. At his stare, Julian suddenly found the growing stack of waffles Harry was plating very interesting, a small blush on his cheeks.

As the only two boys in the house, Harry and Jules were often on an island of their own, especially one week each month. Over the years, Harry would take Julian and the little ones out of the house for a couple hours when it felt like the two of them were against the rest of the house. Julian didn't mind the occasional quarreling and mood swings that his sisters displayed as much as other brothers might, but Harry knew that his son's patience had its limits. Especially on Christmas morning.

"Go be the favorite child and take this up to your mum, will you?" Harry said, handing over a plate piled high with food.

Scoffing jokingly, Julian said, "Please. I've always been Mom's favorite."

*.*

Harry didn't normally complain about the state of his home, but right now he felt like he was living in a madhouse. Or a landmine.

The key was understanding what made the girls tick—what their symptoms were, what they typically craved, who had a tendency to cry at the drop of a hat. When it was just Y/n, Harry cuddled her in bed, brought her painkillers, and kissed her whenever she needed him to. And then it was Y/n and Simone, and Harry was caring and understanding toward both of them. And then suddenly he was in a house with five women who all got their period at the same time.

The day had gone rather smoothly so far. Everyone eventually trickled down the stairs to eat breakfast and open presents, and the house was soon flooded with wrapping paper, bows, and discarded gift boxes. Harry smiled from ear to ear the whole time as his kids opened their gifts. Even though he could afford to spoil each and every one of his kids every day of the week, Y/n wouldn't let him. She compromised with birthdays and Christmas, but Christmas was when Harry put out all the stops. All year he would plan and plan, ask for Christmas lists months in advance, and spend hours shopping. Y/n used to sigh exasperatedly at her husband's antics, but in the end, she finally let it go. Christmas shopping was one stressor that wasn't on her plate, and she wasn't going to complain about that anymore.

"GiGi, darling, you have to start getting ready for the recital," he said through the door to his daughter's room. Geneva still got embarrassed about getting her period, and now was definitely one of those times.

"I'm not going!"

Harry sighed but decided to move on for now. Y/n would be able to get GiGi dressed and ready to go better than he could, which stung, but he got over it somewhat after his first two daughters. And there were a number of things he could be taking care of to make sure they got out of the house on time, anyway.

When he got back downstairs, Julian, Y/n, and Charlie were in the kitchen, all dressed in their Christmas best. Y/n was straightening the collar of Julian's dress shirt while Charlie clung to his back. Harry made a beeline for his wife, kissing the back of her head as he snaked a hand around her waist.

"You look beautiful," Harry said softly, his thumb rubbing the silky material of her satin skirt.

"What about me, Daddy?"

Harry looked at his youngest daughter. Her hair was done up in a tight bun, most likely done by Y/n, and she was already dressed in her leotard and tights. The only thing missing was the matching sparkly tutu and snowflake hairpiece, but that would come later.

"You look wonderful," Harry said. "You excited for tonight?"

Charlie nodded excitedly, her broad grin nearly identical to her mother's save the dimples in her cheeks. "JuJu's been helping me with my dance.

"It's nothing," Julian said, who was now holding Charlie on his hip since Y/n was done fixing his dress shirt and doing up his tie. Charlie giggled, which made him offer her a small high-five. They were an unusual pair considering their age difference, but Julian loved doting on his littlest sister. And molding her into his little sidekick. "First ones ready though, weren't we, Charlie?"

Y/n shot Julian a look, knowing he was teasing his sisters. Normally, she didn't mind so much, but there were a lot of ever-changing emotions running through the house currently, and it was easier to keep the peace than put out a fire. To Harry, she said, "The girls are getting dressed. Collette wanted to film, but I made sure she gave herself enough time to be ready otherwise she'd have to drive separately. And Maeve was lacing up her shoes when I checked in.”

Nodding, Harry asked, "Can you go talk to Gi? She's...not eager to leave the house."

"Already on it," Y/n said, ruffling Julian's hair as she walked by, which he immediately swatted.

"Do you want to practice at all before we leave?" Harry asked, turning to the youngest member of his family. He wasn't totally surprised that they were spending their Christmas evening at a holiday dance recital, seeing as this was one in a long line of pageants and concerts, but Charlie seemed the most committed to dance out of all his children, even at just five years old. To Harry, it felt like they'd gone to every match, game, meet, and recital possible. Between the seven kids, there was no sport or extracurricular left unturned, but he was often fond of watching his kids perform on a stage of any kind.

Charlie nodded excitedly, shimmying down from Julian's hip. "I've been practicing really hard!"

"She has. Her pirouette is flawless," Jules said with a serious nod of his head.

"Alrighty, let's see it, peanut," Harry said, kissing her forehead.

It wasn't a long routine. Charlie was five, after all. There was a lot of choreographed walking, a couple turns and leaps, and arms spread out wide and above her head. Harry was sure there would be a handful of mess-ups during the performance, and one child would probably end up crying backstage, but Harry, along with the rest of the Styles clan, would cheer for the youngest member of their family as if they were watching a professional ballet performance.

By the time Charlie finished showing Harry, and Julian her routine, more of the family had found their way downstairs. Simone shuffled around in her slippers, a pair of heeled boots in her hands, Natalia and Geneva trailing behind her with matching French braids in their hair, Y/n bringing up the rear. Geneva seemed to be in much better spirits than when Harry spoke to her, which he could only be thankful for. He and his wife were a team after all, and they didn't keep score on parental abilities and duties. Not anymore, anyway, but it had all been in good fun.

"Collette's just finishing up Maeve's hair," Simone said, going over to stand by her brother.

"Perfect," Harry said, checking his watch, a brand new gift from Y/n. There was an inscription on the back with the date, which nearly made Harry cry when he saw it. To my greatest love, it read, with seven little Xs to represent each of their children. "We're right on schedule."

"Since when have we ever followed a schedule?" Simone asked.

"You haven't heard? Dad's gone full-on dance mom," Julian said. "All the other moms in Charlie's class are in love with him because he stays and watches her rehearsals every week."

Simone's brows raised, no doubt a tease for her father poised on her lips, but Harry was quick to interject. "That's not true!"

"It's a little true, baby," Y/n said, coming over to kiss him on the cheek. Even in his late thirties, her husband was undeniably handsome. She'd given up on having feelings about people openly oggling her husband years ago. She knew Harry would never be interested in anyone else. They could look, but never touch, and that was enough for Y/n. "But you're still the best dance-dad ever."

"We're ready!"

Collette and Maeve bounded down the stairs curled to perfection as it bounced with each step. Harry noticed that Collette was wearing an old sweater from his closet, probably one she'd nabbed while he was on a trip, but he decided not to comment on it. He saw the look on his wife's face, though. Y/n's expression was soft as if she was recalling a memory from years ago.

Squeezing her hand once, Harry began ushering everyone out of the house and into the car. Two cars, actually. Driving separately was a common occurrence when the family was all together. Y/n and Harry learned rather quickly that arguments were less likely to break out if the kids weren't packed together in the back seats like sardines. So Harry and Y/n took the twins and Charlie in one car, and Simone drove Collette, Geneva, and Natalia in the other.

Harry sometimes couldn't quite believe that his little girl was in college, let alone driving on her own places. In a lot of ways, Harry and Simone had grown up together as he learned how to become a father at such a young age while simultaneously trying to raise a baby with Y/n. He'd grown up wanting to give his daughter the world, and as he watched her slide into the front seat of her car, one that she bought with her own money after saving up for the last couple years, smiling and laughing at something one of her younger sisters said, he could only hope he'd fulfilled that wish.

Later on, Harry was backstage with Charlie. Her snowflake headpiece was an immovable force on her head, her cheeks sparkled with a little glitter that all the other little snowflakes were wearing as part of their costume, and her white tutu sparkled under the lights of the school auditorium they were in. Charlie had a small pout on her face as she shifted nervously from foot to foot, her big eyes wide as the nerves settled in.

"You're gonna do great, peanut," Harry assured, his gaze level with hers as he knelt down on the floor. "Don't tell anyone I said this, but you're the best ballerina here."

"Really?" A small smile threatened to break through Charlie's nervous frown, and Harry knew she would be ready to go out and perform any minute now.

"Really," he promised, kissing her cheek. Charlie's cheeks had been adorably round when she was a baby, but most of the baby fat had disappeared now that she was a little older, but Harry still thought she would be the cutest, most talented dancer out on that stage tonight. "And even if you do mess up, or if you forget a step, I'm still gonna be so proud of you. We all will be. Okay? If you get nervous out there, look for me."

"Okay, Daddy."

Harry figured Charlie was as ready as she'd ever be. "Alright then. Give your dad one last squeeze."

Charlie lept into Harry's arms, squeezing him for all she was worth. He held her close, careful not to smush the glittery tutu between them. Only letting go when she began to wriggle around in his arms, Harry stood up and walked Charlie to where the rest of the little snowflakes were standing as they waited to go onstage. She wouldn't let him leave until the very last minute, only letting go of his hand when her dance teacher it was nearly time for them to start. Harry gave her one last kiss on top of her head before heading to his seat where the rest of his family was waiting.

It was a good turnout. His and Y/n's parents were in the row behind Y/n and the kids, along with one of Harry's old bandmates who happened to be in town for the holidays. Harry didn't get to see them as much as he would've liked these days, but he knew that any of them would drop any and everything for his kids. Just a few years ago, they all showed up for Simone's high school graduation.

"Everything okay back there?" Y/n asked as Harry settled down in his seat.

He took her hand in his and set it in his lap, his thumb grazing over hers absentmindedly. "Should be. Gave her a pretty good pep talk if I do say so myself."

Y/n scoffed playfully, knowing full well that Charlie was one hundred percent a "daddy's girl." Before she could say anything, though, Harry's mother leaned forward in her seat to ask about their post-recital dinner plans, and shortly after that, the lights dimmed and the performances began.

When it was done, the small section dedicated to Charlie's biggest fans cheered loudly, not caring that phones were turned in their direction or that they were maybe being too loud for a kindergarten dance recital. None of that mattered to Harry as Charlie beamed at them from the stage as she took a final bow, waving at her family excitedly.

At the end of the night, as Harry and Y/n got into bed, he couldn't help but grin at another perfect Christmas completed. It was off to an unusually slow start, and there was definitely potential for tears and arguments, but he couldn't have been more pleased by how everything turned out.

There was a time when even though Harry loved Christmas with Simone, then Simone and Collette, and so on, he somewhat mourned the idea of a Christmas with just Y/n. Because they had their daughter so young, he and Y/n never had the opportunity to enjoy the holidays just by themselves. It would've been nice, but Harry wouldn't change his experiences for the world, and he eventually didn't even want to think about what Christmas without his family looked like. Those memories were too precious to regret or want to change, and he knew Y/n felt the same.

"Another perfect Christmas for the books," he said as he climbed into bed next to Y/n, just half of their family Christmas pajamas on. He tended to do away with a shirt if he thought he and Y/n could get away with sleeping by themselves without any midnight intruders.

"Mm. I'd say so," Y/n agreed as she snuggled up to Harry's side. "Charlie was so good tonight, wasn't she?"

Harry's heart swelled with pride at the thought of his daughter's performance tonight. "Definitely a career there if she wants one."

"Easy there," his wife chuckled. "She's only five."

Harry merely nodded, but he was already thinking about the future Charlie's talent could give her. He didn't care if that did make him somewhat of a "dance mom," he just wanted his kids to be happy, and if a dance career was what Charlie wanted, then Harry would do everything he could to help her get there.

"I do have one more gift."

"Really?" Harry couldn't think of anything else he could possibly need, but he watched curiously as Y/n shuffled away from him to root around her nightstand for something. When she found it, she sat up to face him better.

With wide eyes, Harry stared as she opened up a small velvet box, a sleek metal band inside it. He couldn't even form words as he looked at it, eyes suddenly welling up with tears he didn't want to shed until Y/n explained.

"Maybe I should've done this at dinner tonight with our parents and the kids, but I wanted this moment to just be ours," she said, cheeks turning a little pink. "I—I know we're already married, but that was seventeen years ago, H. Can you believe that?"

"I don't know where the time's gone," he breathed. They were the first words that came to mind.

"Time flies when you get me pregnant six times," she teased, reaching out a hand to cup his cheek. Her thumb moved across his skin, wiping away a tear he didn't even realize had fallen. "But I just thought now that our family is officially complete. And I really do mean that. We could renew our vows or something. Usually that sort of thing is reserved for special anniversaries, but the timing feels right, and I found out I was pregnant when I was seventeen, so—"

"It's perfect," Harry said.

Y/n looked up at him nervously, as if he would've disagreed for some reason. "Really?"

"Yes, Mama. This is—This is the best gift you've ever given me. Outside those precious little humans in our house right now," Harry said, adding the last part as an afterthought. "I can't think of a better way to end my Christmas."

Harry let Y/n slide the ring onto his finger. Y/n had had a small band for a long time now, an anniversary gift to commemorate their small wedding all those years ago. Harry couldn't wear one at the time because their relationship, along with the rest of his family, was a heavily guarded secret, and a band on his left ring finger would draw way too many questions.

But their relationship wasn't a secret anymore, and while they did their best to stay out of the limelight, Harry had no problem with wearing the ring. He would get something for Y/n too. He'd always wanted to get her a big ring, one that signified just how much he loved and appreciated and admired her, both as his partner and the mother of his children. Now was the perfect opportunity.

"You really outdid yourself this year, Mama," Harry murmured, sliding a hand into her hair to cup one side of her face.

"Would you believe me if I told you that I was partially drawn to the idea after thinking we could have a honeymoon afterward?" she said, a small smirk on her face.

"You've really thought this through, huh?"

Y/n kissed Harry on the lips. A peck, really, and he suddenly needed much more. "Mmhm. Want to hear the details now or later?"

Later, definitely later, Harry thought, but he opted to just kiss his wife instead.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::

Everyone's ages:

Harry: 39

Y/n: 39

Simone: 20

Collette: 17

Twins: 16

Geneva: 12

Natalia: 11

Charlie: 5

#harry styles #young dad! harry #young mom! reader #young dadrry #harry styles blurb #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fluff #harry styles writing #harry styles x you #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles imagine #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fic

[deliciouskeys]

@cozycornerkinktober’s prompt #2: Gloves

America’s Sweetheart (Homelander solo with a soupçon of Starlander)

Warnings: rated soft E or hard M. Cross-dressing elements.  HL pov and all that comes with that. Short. AO3 link.

Homelander can't understand a lot of things about Starlight. For someone who made her way into Vought’s top echelon of supes, she's still oddly attached to her unremarkable birth name (Maeve never insisted he call her Maggie, and The Deep and A-Train only use theirs for signing contracts). She was inexplicably dating a limp noodle of a man who was a mudperson. Homelander would have understood if it was someone with political clout or money, but Hugh had none of those things. And she periodically felt the need to speak out on camera about things that made everyone uncomfortable. In some ways, Homelander wonders if it was her infuriating behavior during rehearsals that inspired him into his own public tirade. Did she think she was the only one who could speak off the cuff?

Given all of these things, her rejection of the sexier improved uniform the Vought team attempted to update for her shouldn't surprise him. His new co-captain seems determined to wear that dowdy, prim little skirt-and-cape ensemble. Shoulder covered. No cleavage, no thigh high boots. He’s surprised she didn’t insist on a skirt that would cover her knees and go with a full Amish bonnet instead of a headband.

When he intrudes into her room to discuss his vision for the finale of Vought’s Next Top Superhero, he paces around idly, stopping in front of her closet and scanning through it. He’s pleased to discover that she never bothered to return her uniforms. Six identical outfits Vought manufactured for her that she snobbily rejected after a brief run were still hanging up, side by side, in the back of her closet. 

“Why won’t you wear this version?” he asks as he shoves the door open and pulls out the uniform that also has accessories on the hanger.

“Because it’s uncomfortable and obscene,” she says brusquely.

“What’s obscene is you wearing jeans and a t-shirt while you’re on the clock. It’s fucking unprofessional.”

“I’m in my own room!” She was already exasperated with him before, but is clearly even more on edge now. Maybe because she can guess that during his scan he also saw her vibrator stashed away in her underwear drawer. He did enjoy the brief mental image it gave him, but there’s no reason for him to bring it up and give her a hard time. If he really wanted to, he could listen for the buzzing sound at night and look through walls and floors to perv on her. But he’s not that obsessed with her.

“Your room is in Vought Tower, and 10 am is work hours by any definition, even a New Yorker's. So pull yourself together. Wear your old maid uniform, at least, if you can’t force yourself to wear this sexy one.”

“Sorry I can’t be like you and live in my suit 24/7. But I’d like to see you wear that thing and then tell me you’d want to spend time in it.”

Homelander’s mind feels like it shorts out and goes blank for a moment.

~~~

He brings the uniform he pulled out back to his own room. Starlight has no intention of wearing it or at least she didn’t voice any protest when he took it with him. He has no interest in the white and gold shapewear that might as well be a swimsuit and throws it on the bed, but he’s itching to touch the gold gloves and thigh-high boots. He remembers when he touched her gloves for the first time, holding hands as they walked down the red carpet after Translucent’s funeral. He was drawn to do it again down in the tunnels, patronizing her, grabbing her wrists as he told her to kill off her lowly on-again off-again boytoy. But he was touching them through his own thick gloves. It wasn't until assaulting her in the elevator that he really lost his mind over the way they felt as he snaked his hand down her body while she raised her arms up to protect herself.

Now he strips down with eagerness that surprises himself, and fucking moans when he touches her gloves with his bare hands. He tries to pull one of them on but to no avail. They’re small and tailored for thinner arms than his– and he’s so bad at estimating his own body size under the foam padding that he fully expected them to be able to stretch and fit. He can’t quite fit his feet into the boots either, even with the leg is unzipped all the way down to the ankle. All he can do is push his feet in as far as they will go, not quite able to fit his arch in, heel hanging over the edge.

This won’t do. 

~~~

When Homelander orders only the accessory pieces to Starlight’s deprecated uniform, but in a bigger size, the people in the costuming department look at him uncertainly.

“Is she wearing it again?” they ask, as if it's any of their business. “We weren’t aware her size changed.”

Homelander sighs at having to explain himself. “It’s not... for her. It’s for a different woman. Who’s a bit larger.” He realizes his tone sounds strange as he’s trying to come up with a good lie for why he needs this. “Can you just make them larger?”

“But sir, no one else is allowed to wear Starlight’s uniform, even the old version. It’s copyrighted…” the man with a ‘Steve’ nametag begins to stammer.

“Oh for crying out loud, this isn’t for wearing outside. It will only be worn behind closed doors, I promise you. And I trust I can ask to keep this discreet?”

The people behind the counter look at each other nervously, but smile appeasingly and nod and promise to deliver something for him in the next few weeks… days!, they quickly correct themselves when they see the irritation on his face at the long timeline.

~~~

He finds the package is delivered right to his door. Maybe the department downstairs were intimidated by him and dropped it off to avoid a conversation. Homelander thinks they’re being ridiculous. He’s given them no trouble, asked for no modification of his own suits– he’s requested very few changes since 1999. When he opens the box and unwraps the white tissue paper providing cushioning around the gloves and boots, he forgets all of his annoyance at them. The gloves are just like Starlight’s originals, not a knockoff material as he feared they might resort to if they no longer had the old one in stock. They’re thin and silky to the touch— and not very protective at all compared to his thick pleather ones. He strips down and tries to pull one of them on. It’s still a tight squeeze but he manages to get his hand into the glove, just a little too small. He can't really complain when he didn’t give them any exact specs. He pulls on the other glove too. They feel insanely good, smooth, lightweight, and he loves the feeling of them stretched all the way up to the middle of his upper arms. He sits on his bed and just rubs them up and down his own torso, touching his nipples, and running a hand down from his breastbone, past his navel and to his crotch. Its only takes a few strokes of his cock with the silky texture to get him hard. 

He pauses before riling himself up any further, and puts on the boots. They're also tight, but this time he can push his foot in and even zip up all the way up to mid-thigh. He walks to the mirror to really admire this, finding walking in heels unfamiliar but loving the extra height. He gets harder when he sees his pale, thin torso surrounded by gold-wrapped arms and legs. He's usually vaguely disgusted by seeing himself nude. His brain is used to the suit, and when it’s not hiding his deficiencies he looks bony, skinny, pathetic, as weak as he's afraid to be. But in this getup he enjoys being on the lean side. He keeps rubbing his hands up and down his torso, twisting and turning in front of the mirror, cupping his ass, shifting his weight from one leg to the other coyly, jutting his hips, even crouching down and doing an obscene spread of his legs. These gloves and boots are much more fun than his own, he is loath to admit.

Starlight’s an idiot. She had the best uniform in the Seven, if she had had any clue how to work it. She doesn’t seem to understand that part of her job being America’s Sweetheart on the Seven is having strong sex appeal, even if she’s marketed to be a little demure and provincial.

His cock is aching to be touched again, and he obliges, watching his motions in his reflection, coming with a groan all too quickly, and spraying the mirror’s surface despite standing more than a foot away.

#cozy corner kinktober #gloves #homelander #starlight #annie january #starlander- kind of #the boys #the boys tv #mystuff #fic #sartorial

[hyunsuks-beanie]

Sweeter Than Dreams

Pairing: Jay x gn.! reader

Genre: Smut/fluff with a suggestive ending

Content Warnings: Smut; wet dreams; masturbation; making out 

Word Count: 0.95k words

Mellow speaks: So since you guys like the spiciness of the vanilla with Hyunjin, I'm here now with my usual spicy being a vanilla! It's been so long since I wrote Jay, but it's so good as always, hope you guys enjoy! 

Tagging: @sweethyuka @yedammi @enhacolor @axartia @hyunsuksmygod  @duolingofanaccount @zurimochi 

He felt so warm, so comforting. You could get used to sleeping in the same bed as him, and truth be told, after having spent the night together for a few times, you were already getting used to it. You hadn't been dating for long, barely two months if you counted out the incessant flirting and mutual pining you'd had going for a lot longer. And so, it was natural that you were still learning the ropes of being in love with Park Jay, or Jongseong as you liked to call him. 

It had been his idea to come over, and you knew that all he needed was some much-deserved cuddle time, something you were more than willing to give him. Maybe that's why as the clock on your nightstand strikes two in the dead of the night, you find yourself smiling a content smile against his chest, his heartbeat lulling you to a peaceful slumber as he drapes his arm around you, pulling you flush into him.

Until he isn't, his grip on your waist going lax till his arm really is nowhere to be found. But the loss of contact isn't really what wakes you up. What actually does is the feeling of his hand snaking down his own body, running along your own stomach and your thighs till he's reached the hem of his sweatpants. Something seems different, something definitely is off. And yet, in your groggy state, you don't quite register what it is until you hear a name being called by a breathy, almost desperate voice.

Your name. Being called by his voice. 

It's soft as first, barely a little above a whisper. You hear it, and you wake up, but finding no signs of him being awake, you begin to let yourself fall back into dreamland. Only to be woken up again not more than a minute later. It's louder this time, and more obvious too. He's clearly calling out your name, a crooked smile on his face when you crack your eyes open.

"Jay?," you groggily whisper, his gorgeous face coming into focus as you regain your senses. But he doesn't reply, leaving you to place a tentative hand on his bicep, trying to wake him up. "Jongseong?," you attempt again, using the name he so loves coming from you and realizing belatedly what a mistake you've made. Because the very next moment, his face is contorted into one of anguish, his lips parting to let a moan escape. A moan that emanates from somewhere deep inside his chest, and sends a tingle down your spine. 

He says your name again, but this time, it's much more aggressive, much more....needy. And it's then that your gaze actually trails down his arm, noticing the unusual angle it's at. It's then that you notice the way his wrist dips into his waistband, and it's then that your eyes land on the bulge in his pants, just barely visible in the dim light. That's all it takes for you to start looking at him, eyes transfixed on his form as he continues to pleasure himself to your name, chasing a climax you've only brought him to in his dreams till now. 

When morning rolls around, Jay wakes up to the feeling of something sticky between his legs, and also to that of a softness pressing against his lips. His eyes fluttering open, he finds you looking at him with your own eyes filled with adoration, but there's something else lurking behind that softness. Something that feels more mischievous more....intimate. And why shouldn't it be, when the both of you've had it on your mind for a little while now? 

Sure, you're still maneuvering around your feelings and working out the subtleties, but that doesn't mean you didn't moaned his name in your sleep, or pleasure yourself to the thought of him. The only difference? You were lucky enough to not have mortified yourself in front of him, but even if he hadn't been so lucky, you weren't one to judge. 

"Good morning handsome," you whisper as you lean closer to him, smirking just enough for his half-asleep mind to register. "Wh-," he opens his mouth to ask, but is quick to cut his words off, his eyes going wide when he realizes just what that stickiness is. The second he does though, his cheeks turn a bright pink, his voice breaking out in stutters and stammers as he tries to apologize. 

Not that he needs to, but you still appreciate the way he gets flustered, and the mere sight of him being adorable like that is enough to make you want to press your lips to his. So you do, your mouth molding against his in a soft show of affection. Except it doesn't remain soft for long, taking a turn the second he kisses back timidly.

Why? Because his timidness doesn't quite sit right with you, making you take matters into your hands as you press a little harder, gripping his shoulders for support and running your tongue along his bottom lip. It does catch him by surprise at first, but he doesn't take too long to respond just as fervently, his arms getting wrapped around your waist as he pulls you on top of himself, sighing into the kiss. 

His kisses make the morning sweeter for you, filling you up with an insatiable warmth and the desire to feel him closer. You don't know how long you stay like that for, but what you do know is that when you pull away, lips swollen and eyes hooded, you're ready to take the next step. The next step that he confirms with a smirk and a tug on your T-shirt. 

Yeah, your morning really felt sweeter than your dreams.

#jay #jay smut #enhypen smut #enhypen #jongseong smut #jongseong #jay x reader #jongseong x reader #heeseung smut #heeseung #sunghoon smut #sunghoon #jake #jake smut #jay suggestive #jongseong suggestive

[a-gal-with-taste]

Surprise (NSFW)

Warnings: NSFW|MDNI. Pre-established relationship, consensual somnophilia, morning-sex, oral (M-Receiving), deep-throating, swallowing, overstimulation, multiple-orgasms, this was made entirely for the joke of Silco’s face captioned ‘when she keeps sucking:’ enjoy that I took that prompt semi-seriously

Silco isn't a man for surprises. That's something more suited for Jinx, though, you wonder sometimes, how much of the tendency to keep the world on its toes has rubbed off from her to him.

You seem to be the main victim of his rare surprises, though they are at the very least pleasurable, in a sense. Still, they are often surprises you can never hope of replicating; Promenade trips more expensive than some of Piltovers shops. Candlelight dinners overlooking some of the only non-smog covered parts of the harbors. Moments of peace, almost tender quiet, or raw, all-encompassing pleasure...

Silco gives it all to you, seemingly at a whim. He pulls no stops, puts in all efforts, and will do it all before you can even consider coming up with a way to pay him back for such delights... and by the time you do come up with something, the man has already pulled yet another surprise to sweep you off your feet, often leaving you breathless.

It's hardly fair. And so, finally, you decide that maybe your own little surprise shouldn't be too fair either.

You wait until you know he will be deep asleep. It's even rarer than his surprises - nights that he'll merely dump himself into bed, brush lips against your shoulder, before slumping into sleep far, far into the next day. You don't ask what puts him into these kinds of fits, where groggily shushes any attempt to awaken him before he's prepared to. It's far better, for both you and especially him, to enjoy these sleep-in's for as long as they last...

And with a glance at the clock in the corner of the room as you shimmy down out his arms, further down the bed, you know that not only is this going to last quite a while longer. But it's definitely going to be enjoyable.

From the clock, your eyes drift back up, catching the softened lines of Silco's face. And he... Silco isn't old.

He's aged, and gone through more than he'll ever tell another living soul in-full, but it's suddenly impossible to think of the man, laying on the mattress with tousled hair, parted-lips and a relaxed face, as the old-man you often joke him as being.

Silco is rarely carefree, but when he is, even with the hints of grey, he could almost look ageless.

You shake your head with a tiny sigh, the soft, affectionate smile remaining even as your once more shift your gaze. Albeit reluctantly from his form, but it becomes important to look to the side of his bed, and catch the sight of the tie rolled up on his bedside.

A mundane, innocent sight for any outside party. But the insiders know full-well, that Silco hasn't worn a tie in several years.

And this one is clearly used - undamaged but strained. Clean, but stretched from many, many usages - enough that just the sight of it makes your wrists twitch with the familiarity of them around your wrists, but that's not the only mechanism you and Silco have used it for.

Again, it's mundane enough to pass as something innocuous, meaningless even, to other parties. For the two of you however, it's not just permission, but a subtle invitation.

And normally you don't indulge. Normally, Silco wakes up prior to any expecting-surprises you could spring on him, and by the time you become aware to the world in full-again, he's already sprung his surprise on you.

But this time, you've woken up well before him. And Silco didn't so much as twitch when you wiggled free from his tight-arms to slip slowly down his body, freeing more skin with gentle tugs at blankets and covers. And eventually, freeing even more flesh with a curl of fingers at his boxers.

It's almost instinctive to lick your lips at the growing sight of bare-skin laying bare for you. Far, far from the first time, but there's still something special about the way that this is a sight solely made for your eyes only. That no other has the ability to watch as, inch by inch, pale skin is exposed for your hungry gaze before he lays bare beneath you. Fingers ghost over his hips once the remaining article of clothing is tossed aside, and with a quick glance upward to ensure he rests still, you gently maneuver yourself, and him into place.

Trailing down his body as you settle your body between his thighs, you can't resist ducking your head in order to graze your lips along the thin, pale pink line of a scar, stretched from hip to lower abdomen. Of course, all know of the most notable one, but you know them all. And it's tempting to go through with each one, pressing kisses along every mark, scratch or scar along every single one his body holds, but a glance downward has you smirking slightly.

Another time, then. For it seems the pressure on his hip has already risen his bodies attention, even if his consciousness is still in rest. You waste little time getting to the main-prize, wrapping your fingers loosely around the half-hardening cock to raise it fully, letting out a slow breath between your lips over his head while you glance up at Silco's face. There's a twitch, both in your palm and on his face and you decide to push it further by flicking your tongue out to trail over the head of his cock, humming faintly as the taste of him reaches your tongue under your slow ministrations.

There's a deeper, more alert inhale from above, and you decide to forego teasing. You loosen your hand enough to gather spit on your tongue before applying it to your palm, returning it to gently stroke at the stiffened length while you lean over to take his head between your lips. An open hum earns you the first small, almost-conscious moan from the slumbering man from above, causing your lips to curl at the corners before you guide him another inch further into your mouth, warm tongue swirling rhythmically around him.

There's a jerk of thighs beneath you, muscles jumping before they tense - thankfully not in completion, but in awareness, and a groggy string of syllables sounds, that vaguely resembles your name. You only hum in response, your free hand reaching down and further between his thighs, and you flick your gaze upward just as a long hissed-sigh sounds from him as you cup his sac in your palm.

A rare curse slips out as his eye, still heavy with sleep, manages to strain open as the image of you, shaft halfway into your mouth and fingers gently beginning to fondle at his balls, comes into clarity.

That doesn't mean Silco doesn't blink slowly at the sight, as if he's still dreaming. It's almost cute, the way your name breezes out of a slackened mouth as he gazes down at you in a mix of lust and affection.

"Well, good morning, darling. I think... this is my new favorite wake-up call."

You roll your eyes, and decide to cease playing around. Rubbing a thumb on the tender skin of his sac, you close your eyes and ease your throat as you take him in fully, earning a louder, now fully awake moan of your name as your nose brushes against his pelvis.

He's heavy and hot on your tongue as you hum appreciatively around him, and your actions quickly earn a palm cupping the back of your skull, long fingers slowly carting at your scalp as you hear a shaky intake of air.

Silco's breathing turns sharper when your tongue comes into action again, and even with a heavy-limbed hand at your skull, you ease your head smoothly from him until just the tip is being lavished by your tongue. Then, with a more prominent coupling of a massage at his balls, the act of lowering back down to take him fully into your throat and mouth, quickly makes the low tones of his sleep-roughened voice quickly raise in pitch, which sounds delightful when he can barely manage out your name.

Hands move from attending him below to slip around him before your arms tuck beneath his body. Not only to keep you comfortable as you evenly bobbed your head above his shaft, making sure to slow at the tip for your tongue to swirl against, but also to keep him in place. Thighs trembled beneath your touch with every movement, and the fingers that had been caressing through your hair were now digging deep into your scalp. Almost with enough strain to deliver pain with every sudden tug Silco subconsciously gave, but then he paired it with a particularly sweet whimper as you suckled harshly on his head.

With the amount of pre that was leaking from him, it mixed with your saliva as it slicked down his shaft. Although it was clear words were lost to him so early in the morning, the deep, primal groan of arousal that joined a sudden thrust into your mouth, told you that Silco had gotten a looked, and like what he saw.

The sound and his arching hips spurred you into action, your head bobbing lower and faster. His breathing doubled with the new speed, and despite your aching throat and jaw growing sore with it’s extended usage, you only felt your own untouched pleasure rising with the almost fragile way he was able to say your name as his body started arching to follow you with every rise of your head-

It was no surprise that he came so soon after that. Filling deep down into your throat, you so badly wanted to take your time to savor the familiar taste, but the angle bit it impossible, and you were forced to swallow every drop as the tugs on your head made your hair left in danger of being yanked out.

You didn’t mind though. The mantra of your name, nearly a shout and now a breathless, awed whimper, was more than enough to encourage you swallow around him to gather every drop like it was a delicacy... And then, with a tug beneath his hips to keep him situated still beneath him, the sounds Silco made encouraged your mouth to stay on him, and continue from where you left off the moment he grew still beneath you.

You never knew a human body could stiffen so like something akin to stone.

Silco certainly wasn’t animated, but the way he froze made you briefly concerned that drops of blood had just frozen solid in his very veins, as you pulled back just enough to lap your tongue around his cock. A glance upward, and you almost stilled your mouth entirely as you flicked the tip of your tongue just beneath his head. The action brought a bit of life back to the man, whose back had arched nearly off the bed, with eyes wide and staring straight. Silco’s mouth was parted, and after another swirl of your tongue around him, slow in it’s tracing of the veins on his pulsating length, the first croaked groan managed to slip out of his mouth.

It was all the encouragement you needed as Silco’s head lulled back almost loosely onto the pillows, and you closed your lips around the tip of his cock to suckle eagerly. His hips bucked and twisted weakly beneath you, and you shifted a hand up to stroke at the scar on his hip, petting almost in encouragement as you doubled your efforts. Breath soon as ragged as Silco’s, but not nearly half as broken under what you assumed was torturous, and glorious overstimulation of his nerves as your mouth sucked, teased and coaxed another telling jerk of his thighs beneath you.

Certainly, some strands of your hair had to have been yanked out as his other hand came flying to grip your locks for purchase - for sanity or for more physical-reasons, you were unsure. Silco did in fact climax with a force that had his body partially curl upwards, combined with a broken sound that sounded like the closest thing to a sob you imagined the Eye of Zaun was capable of making.

And he made it at your doing. 

It shouldn’t feel like an accomplishment, especially when considering the more smaller, weaker second-climax you were able to suckle out of him, but there was a surge of satisfaction in you nonetheless. You tried not to make it too obvious, when you popped your panting mouth off his length and wiped around your aching mouth with the back of your hand - but the sight of the infamous kingpin of Zaun, falling back boneless atop the bed, couldn’t stop the grin from spreading across your reddened, abused lips.

Silco’s chest heaved with every breath, post-orgasm shudders racing through his body as you crawled up from between his legs and tucked away your smile. Though it was unnecessary - the glowing red eye flickered around it’s dilated pupil, while his mortal eye remained slip shut, even as you lifted a half-lifeless arm to wrap over your shoulders as you tucked your own body against his side.

“I'm assuming that that’s still your... what was it? ‘New favorite way to wake up’?”

There’s a deeper huff, potentially a chuckle rather than a shaky-inhale as Silco works to regain his bearings. Some strength returns back into him, starting at the arm you’ve coaxed around yourself with fingers curling slightly in a breathless, side embrace as you lean up, kissing his jawline while a hand comes up to wipe at sweaty locks resting errantly along his slick forehead.

“Well regardless,” You say offhandedly, but there’s a flutter of his remaining eyelid that makes it clear that he hears the smile in your even-tone. “I’m glad you seemed to enjoy it, sweetie.”

Silco takes another moment before his breathing becomes even, but still deep. A tongue flicks out so slip slowly over dried lips, before that arm squeezes a little tighter around your waist as he manages to croak, “It was... a very enjoyable morning-surprise.”

His eyes remain closed, but you are certain he could sense your wide grin regardless, as you tucked your face into his neck and continued to gently sooth his sweaty hair back into place as he allows a low-hum. Enjoyable, indeed.

-

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#he's making that one face #you know which one #we all know which face i'm talking about #this was all made from a meme #as it should be #arcane #fanfiction #arcane fanfiction #silco #arcane silco #silco x reader #silco x gender neutral reader #my writing #mdni #18+ #arcane fanfic #lol arcane #lol silco #fanfic #oneshot #sinning sunday coming in early

[jin0]

tiny witchy self sacrifice

MINORS DNI ! I BLOCK !!

Pairing : Stucky x Witch!Reader

Warnings : mentions of blood, fire, possible smut and other things that i definitely forgot

A/N : im new here and this is my forst story so please be gentle with me... also i wrote this on my phone in the train so all the mistakes are mine !! hope you enjoy !! also i had written this for @syntheticavenger , she had a challenge a couple of weeks ago but i kinda got scared to send it so i guess now's the time :)

____________________________________

What kinds of psycho would roam in a forest, past midnight on halloween night ? You. You would. You had something to do.

You were walking barefoot, the leaves sticking to the bottom of your feet. You'd been walking for an hour or so when you reached it. The abandoned church.

When you entered you dropped your bag and your skateboard sitting at the center when you let out a sight. You shouldn't feel so comfortable doing this. But you had done worst. You had done so much worst. To others but mostly to yourself. You would rather hurt yourself, not fearing death, than hurt others. Hurting yourself was better. You liked it this way.

You took off your shirt and took ou the knife hidden in your pocket. They gave it to you. a present that you would never lose.

You started lacing the blade through your skin, letting the blood run down and drip on the floor. Your eyes closed, letting the slight burning sensation pass before you layed down. now you just had to wait.

_________________________________________

When you woke up, you heard it. the familiar rumbling that you loved so much. The warmth of the flames that followed them like a shadow.

You opened your eyes to the flames that you missed so much. You got on your knees when their head started poking through the floor, rising from the concrete. You didn't have the time to pay attention to your bleeding wrists. You were kneeling in a puddle of your own blood but that wasn't important (maybe a little).

When the finally stood at their full height and looked down on you, you should've been terrified but you weren't. They never scared you.

One hand grabbed you jaw softly, guilt and worry painted on their faces.

"We were clear. Do not summon us again. the risks would be too great." Still dizzy, you could clearly recognize the monotone, slightly sad, voice of your brunette lover.

You held his wrist and smiled, nuzzling up to his palm.

"I dont like when you tell me what to do. I never do it and you always end up scolding me for nothing." You looked exhausted and on the verge if passing out, but you got what you wanted.

They sight, helping you stand up. Each one held you wrists looking at the blood coating them and the wound closing right before their very eyes.

You reached for the brunette, kissing the curve of his jaw.

"You shouldn't worry that much Bucky... Doesn't look fitting for a person of you rank."

"I would worry less if you stopped trying to summon us this way. We told you that we wouldn't accept your sacrifice. No matter what." Said the man, looking at you sadly.

"Figured you would say that. i just wanted to see you. That was the fastest option. And it's halloween, night of all creatures of the dark. No better night for a human sacrifice."

You turned to Steve and smiled. He always had to scold you, you could feel it coming. When Bucky couldn't, always soft on you, Steve never stopped himself. So you stopped him instead. Covering his lips with yours and slowly letting your jeans pool at your feet.

"Let's not do that right now. the clock is ticking and I'm not waiting for another year to feel you. Even though i wouldn't have to if you stopped resisting me."

His hands grabbed your thighs and lifted you up before detaching his lips from yours.

"And damning you for eternity to the burning flames of hell ? Absolutely not. Not when you have a lifetime awaiting" His lips were still roaming your skin, tasting it attentively. Even while scolding you, his body couldn't contain itself, it was pulled to yours.

"I wouldn't have a lifetime if you stopped interfering." you scoffed, looking at him dead in the eyes. You weren't one to cower, not when you were so confident about your decision.

This discussion was common. every year, in every dream and soul travel. The closer you would get, the faster would they send you back.

Bucky reached for you, kissing you passionately. They could reject your attempts for as long as the desired, they would always long for you. Forever.

With their hands roaming, their heated bodies against yours and their lips praising your entire existence as if you were descending from the heavens, straight into their arms. The irony of things.

They had undressed in swift movements, encasing you in their arms and playing with your holes as your moans and pleas echoed in the abandoned church. You were probably playing dangerous games with the higher powers but clearly, fire never scared you

"If you could see yourself, my love... As devine as ever... Steve look at her, look at how wet she is, she's demanding our attention."

"She's good isn't she ? Defying but so good when she wants to be. You want us to fill you up don't, you love ? All stuffed of our cocks, feeling the fire burning in you."

Their fingers, toying with you, knowing that you were always so desperate. Deprived of them for so long, they still managed to play.

You pulled yourself closer to Bucky, guiding his length to you warmth.

"Please, i need it... It's been so long..."

They could only smile at you, so powerful but so docile and ready to be used and abused for as long as the night would allow. You were theirs, their love, their enchanteress and owner of their hearts.

The clock was ticking and time was running. You had the entire night but this was nothing compared to the time you could spend if you were down there with them. And that's what you wanted. Eternity. You gave absolutely no fucks about life as a mortal, not when your soulmates were this close to you but so far at the same time. All it would take would be a little sacrifice that you were ready to make, for them. But weirdly enough they valued your life more than you did. Some shit about 'you deserve to live it all before ending up down there'. This was a complete joke. But for now you would let it fly. Because you loved them that much.

They were your Gods of Hell and nothing would stop you from craving their presences. Even if it meant killing yourself in the process. But what's not to like about a tiny witch self sacrifice anyways ?

#stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #stucky imagine #steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x reader #stucky smut #stucky x black!reader #black reader #woc reader #female reader

[dragon-kazansky]

Dangerous | Helmut Zemo

AU! Race car driver Zemo 😎

Gender neutral reader

Collage by @realremyd

[Masterlist]

[Previous chapter] - [Next chapter]

Part 5

It had been a week since you had seen Zemo. You hadn't seen your friend at all either. You had tried to contact her a couple of times, but after receiving no responses, you gave up. It still didn't sit right with you that she and Stark were a thing.

You were currently at work. You were on the afternoon shift today. You could handle the afternoon crowd easier than the morning crowd. It wasn't your usual shift, so your usual co-workers weren't here to banter with.

You were wiping down the counter when a customer approached. You wipe your hands on the towel over your shoulder and turn to take their order, only to stop.

"Zemo?"

He stands there smiling. He was wearing slacks with a button up shirt. He looked very smart, yet so laid back.

"Hello Y/N."

"What are you doing here?"

"Not happy to see me?" He grins.

"I am, it's just... I didn't expect to see you before the race."

He chuckles as he orders something to drink.

"I couldn't wait much longer. I wanted to see your world." He glances around the cafe. It was a nice place. Classy and clearly a good place for groups to hang out.

"Well this is it. I make drinks for people." You make him his drink and hand it over. He pays for it there.

"I like it. It suits you, but I think you'd fit into my world just fine."

You laugh, "not that I'd be of any use in your world. I can barely change a tyre."

That makes him chuckle.

"I'm sure there would be something for you."

You shake your head with a smile.

"Oh, it's your lucky day by the way. My boss happens to be a fan of yours, so I have next weekend off for the races."

"Ah, lucky me indeed." He looks very smug right now. You shake your head, grinning.

"Just this once. I can't take every weekend off."

"Well that's no good. I need you for all my races," he says, stating it like a fact.

"You don't need me. You just want me there for some reason."

Zemo leans on the bar and looks at you softly. He has a small soft smile on his face. You were right in every way.

"Yes, I do want you there."

"I don't see why."

"I like you," he says with ease, confidence oozing from him as he grins at you.

You laugh softly.

"You're so..."

"Handsome? Charming? Dashing?"

"So funny."

You both laugh softly.

"I should get back to work before my manager catches me chatting up the customers," you say, glancing over your shoulder.

"Oh? Do you flirt with others then?"

"Only the good looking ones," you stick your tongue out at him. He winks and takes a seat at a table near by. Though there is literally plenty for him to do, he chooses to watch you work instead.

This was you in your element. Life passing more slowly, more safely.

There was serenity in this life style. Something he couldn't provide through his. He couldn't guarantee anything, as much as he would like to pretend.

There was always that risk.

Risks such greater than anything you could ever face here. He looked down at his half empty cup of coffee. Maybe he shouldn't ever ask you.

You bid goodbye to your customer, and looked over at Zemo. You smiled at him. He smiled back. He finished his coffee and got up from his table.

"That was lovely, though I do have a particular fondness for tea."

You chuckle.

"We serve tea too."

He smiles.

"When do you finish?" He asks.

You look up at the clock on the wall.

"Two more hours. Why don't you go look around the town or something."

"I think I will. I'll pick you up later, no arguing," he winks at you and makes his exit. You smile as you clear his table.

Zemo walks through the town you live in. It's nice, pretty. Again, it suits you perfectly.

Looking around, he almost feels homesick. There was nothing left of the place he once called home. He shakes those thoughts from his mind.

Something catches his attention up ahead. A limo. It stands out vastly against the rest of the cars on the street. Far too sleek, shiny, and expensive for anyone around here.

It irks him that he has a bad feeling about it.

From up the road, he watches as the man he dreaded steps out. Tony Stark put on his shades before holding his hand out for someone. A pretty young lady climbs out of the limo.

Something about her strikes Zemo as familiar. He can't pinpoint from where though.

Zemo watches as Stark closes the limo door and takes the young lady into boutique behind them.

What was Tony Stark doing here?

Zemo had made the trip for you. He had his excuse to be here instead of down at the track. Tony, however, didn't.

Zemo headed over to where he was stood across the street, though he couldn't quite see through the store window display.

He had to make himself scarce before Stark came out again. He didn't want Tony seeing him. As he walked away, he didn't let go of the thought that he had seen that girl before.

Zemo was back at the cafe at the end of your shift like he said he would be. The car he was driving was another one from his collection. He opened the door for you and climbed in once you were safely in his car.

As he drove to your address, which he flirted with you for, his mood changed to something a little more serious. Concerned, you had to ask him what happened in those 2 hours he was alone.

"Are you alright?"

He glances at you.

"Yes, why?"

"You're clutching the steering wheel rather tightly and your jaw is locked again. What's on your mind?"

"I saw Stark here in town."

You swallow awkwardly.

"Did he see you?"

"No. I saw him. He was with someone." He glances at you as you shift in your seat. Now it was turn to be concerned. "What is it?"

"That's my friend. Remember when she called me at the airstrip? She told me she was going to meet me at the train station and tell me something big. Well, when we got out, Tony Stark was there with a limousine. Apparently the news was she is daring him. They had met that night after the first race, he had asked her out and she agreed."

You couldn't look at him.

Zemo, keeping an eye on the road, reached over and placed his hand on your knee. Your eyes flickered to his hand. His touch was warm and comforting.

"She won't talk to me now. When we got to my place, I had asked her about it. She got defensive and shut me off."

His thumb rubs circles on your leg.

"You don't think this is some kind of stunt do you?" You ask, looking up at him.

"I don't know, but I wouldn't put it past him. It's not the first time he's done something big for publicity."

You want to ask, but something else comes to mind.

"They haven't made it public yet."

"I assume he'll make his move at the next race. Cameras everywhere there." He glances at you.

That makes sense.

"Are you bothered about it?" You ask, looking at him from the corner of your eye.

"No. What Stark does for publicity is his problem. The question, does it bother you?"

"Yes," you state honestly, "because I can't tell if it's real, or if she's being carried away by the fantasy of dating her favourite pro racer. I looked into racing as much as I possibly could before that second race. I tried to get some background on the racers, you included, but Stark seems to thrive on being in the spotlight. He wins over and over again, he trots around the globe to meet people and race his cars. He is always making headlines somewhere."

Zemo gave a nod. He was aware. It was because he kept seeing Stark pop up everywhere that he became a pro racer himself.

"You're worried about your friend. That is understandable."

"I'm worried for her if it's not real."

He glances at you. It's as he is sitting there, hand on your knee, glancing at you as he listens to you, that the thought returns to him. Helmut Zemo is not a man who plays around with people's feelings. If this was you two, there would be no other way than for him to be honest and true to you.

As a man who had lost everything in the past, he would never do that to you.

He takes his hand back as reaches your destination. Your apartment building was a nice little thing. You were up on the 3rd floor.

"Do you want to come in?"

He smiles.

"Yes, I do."

You chuckle. You both get out and you lead him up to your apartment. You smile nicely at your neighbours as you pass them, hoping they don't question the handsome man trailing behind you. No one seemed to recognise him, so that worked in your favour.

You let him into your apartment first.

"It's not much, but it's home."

The apartment wasn't huge, but spacious enough for one person. It was decorated nicely, every little thing a reflection of you. There was a bit of clutter here and there, but it was clear you looked after your space.

"I like it."

"Can't imagine the kind of place you live in. Bet it's a lot nicer than this." You head into the kitchen to make him some tea.

"Perhaps a little bigger, it's no castle."

You chuckle softly and set out two cups.

Zemo glances around at the photos on display. You don't have a lot, but he's curious to see what they are.

"Can I ask you something?" He asks, not looking away from a photo of you and your friend.

"Of course."

"When you were researching the racers, what did you find on me?"

You let the kettle boil as you look at his back.

"Not much, I'll be honest. I didn't want to ask about it, but there was something, if you'll let me."

He halts his movements and wonders what you found. It couldn't be, could it?

"What is it?"

"You're from Sokovia, right?"

He relaxes. Zemo turns slowly and smiles, but there isn't much emotion behind it.

"Yes. I was."

You nibble at your lip softly.

"I'm sorry."

"You have nothing to apologise for," he says, walking over to you.

"Still, I remember hearing about it on the news. It was everywhere for a while. I can't imagine losing my home country."

Zemo reaches over and takes your hand in his. You wouldn't vocalise the fact you realised he was being a lot more physical today. You enjoyed the feel of his touch.

"Thank you for your kindness, but you don't need to worry. I am happy where I am now."

You smile at one another. The kettles clicks off, you reluctantly let go of his hands, missing their warmth. You turn around to see to the tea.

"There really wasn't much else about you online. You're a mystery to me, Zemo."

He smiles.

"Makes me all the more interesting, yes?"

You laugh softly.

"I suppose it does."

You hand him one of the cups and you both go sit down. You face one another on the sofa, enjoying the tea you had made. You watched the way he closed his eyes and took a sip.

"This is very good."

"What can I say? I'm a professional," you joke.

"I believe you."

"So, the race." You smile, sitting up and leaning forward a little. Zemo laughed. It was sweet how excited you were about it, considering you hadn't had an interest before... well, before him.

"I can I take you to the race myself?" He asks, reading your face for a response.

"Take me? Isnt6that going to be a hassle? Going there, coming back, and then going back again?"

"I'll do it for you," he grins mischievously.

"You're doing it again."

"Doing what?" He asks.

"Flirting with me."

"Of course I am. You haven't told me to stop," he tells you.

You smile shyly at him. That was true.

"You should focus on your car, I'll be there. I promise."

He shakes his head subtly.

"Too late, I've made up my mind. I'll be here to pick you up the day before. You can stay with me over the weekend. Sound like a plan?"

You look at him, trying to see if this was just him teasing you, but you don't see anything like that. If anything, those beautiful brown eyes of his are almost pleading for you to agree.

"Alright."

His smile is so full of joy, your heart feels like it could burst. He looked so handsome smiling like that.

"Then I best be on my way. I have some thing to plan before the weekend." Zemo put his empty cup down and got up. You did the same and showed him to the door.

You see him out, but before he leaves your apartment completely, he leaves you with a kiss on the cheek. He doesn't say anything as he walks away.

You're left a smiling blushing mess.

@ajeff855 @moonstuffsteve @sky-writes-stuff @lieutenantn @lostghostgirl94 @friday18eo @yaskna @my-blood-is-maple-syrup @gingerwriter97 @lunamooney2406 @wilder-fangirl @nectav @whovianayesha @thesuitkovian @cathrin2405 @deathtothepatriarchy @belle82devart @dxrksxul06 @killeromanoff @alex-the-nb @latenightartist-author @hb8301 @goddessofmischief03 @xxidontwikeitxx @themeanestlittlewitch @scuttle-buttle

#helmut zemo #zemo #helmut zemo x reader #zemo x reader #baron helmut zemo #AU #marvel #tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier

[hobipaint]

Graffiti and Chalk- two

summary: You thought you knew him. You thought him gone. Kim Taehyung was part of you that you had carefully suppressed, keeping his memories to one box near the wall of your mind. That was your fault, though - empty walls demand for art. And who other than your own neighbourhood vandal?

↳ pairing: ex police student turned vandal! taehyung x officer! female reader

↳ genres: angst, fluff

↳ word count: 9.6K

↳ disclaimers: pg15!, vandalism, police officers, criminal past and heavy discussion of it, mentions of character deaths.

one | two

a/n: FINALLY AFTER A MONTH IT'S HERE! This took me really long to write but I'm pretty satisfied with how it turned out : it's my longest work yet, and I feel like it would be among my best as well hehe. a massive thank you to @kookiestarlight because i swear i completed this in the first place because of tasha, @swcetnight who pointed out exactly where I need to elaborate stuff and places in which I was loosing parts of the plot because did I forget the whole storyline while writing this 🤡, @vaekth because this bby is absolutely amazing. she's supported me throughout the process of writing this, thank you so much!! thank you to @taecup-fics for beta reading this at the last minute and pointing out a bunch of grammatical errors because otherwise this would be a mess to read 😭 to everyone who has waited - I'm so sorry that it came this late, I suddenly had a bunch of exams that were announced and had to focus on those. Hopefully this lives up to your expectations!! Enjoy reading :)

Morning often dawns with a feeling of hope. With wistful sights of sunrise. Flowers open up to the golden haze that thaws the frost of the night. Birds roam the skies that had been but mysterious domains in the dark. People wake up with groans about the impending day, hopeful for it to end soon. You hoped for your mornings to always be similar to this- some constants were needed in places where you had cases as bewildering as missing pumpkin plushies piling up in your office. 

Your morning today, though, was much different. Much to your annoyance. 

You held the coffee you had brewed for yourself - another espresso, the universe knows you needed it - and handed one to Taehyung just as the cuckoo perching on the clock shrilly announced that it was eight in the morning. 

"Do you still have no answers for me, Y/N?" Taehyung looked at you. His eyes were sullen - no signs of the cheekiness that had peeked at you last night. Scattered rays fell across his body, highlighting the sunken cheeks, brooding eyes and tight smiles you could now see better in the daylight. 

You sighed- probably for the millionth time this night. "I do not understand your question, Taehyung." 

"You remember it. I've asked you thrice since I saw you again, Y/N. Do you not remember anymore? Do you not care for me? Was our idea of us nothing for you?" He looked at you with a myriad of emotions written all over his face- you looked away, not wanting to see them. 

Sighing, you gathered your thoughts the best you could. "Like I said, Taehyung." You looked at him- looking at the person you once fell in love with. The feeling you felt today, though, was much different. There was a feeling of running towards him, taking him in your arms and remembering who he was to you all over again, but it was overwhelmed by the confusion you felt - should you prioritize a past that wanted answers, or a future that was unsure? For now, you chose none pushing the time to make that decision further ahead. "We were an 'us' for only a few hours. Until you stood me up."

He rolled his eyes."That wasn't intentional, Y/N." 

"And how was I supposed to know that, Taehyung? I thought it was, since you had never told me anything beforehand."

Taehyung's eyebrows bunched together, as if coming to hear the stories that his eyes longed to tell- stories of events that you had never seen and never known. "Would you not hear me out, even once? For the sake of our old love?"

You bristled. "What love, Taehyung?" You got up to stretch your legs out, looking at the patchwork blanket that was stuffed in the corner. You had taken that for your first date with Taehyung, planning to cuddle with him and watch the stars - a date that never happened. "What love? A love where you don't speak to me for weeks, and then vanish for some crime? We were young then, and I got hurt then as it is. There's no need to go over this right now." 

"That was not my fault, Y/N. You know that." Taehyung seemingly sunk back into his chair, eyes downcast. "I had said I loved you. Before I ever went out with you." 

"Like that matters,” you scoffed, “what's the point in reminiscing promises from an old love?"

"At least, hear me out?" He looked up at you with hope sprinkled in the abyss of his eyes. "I don't want you to forget me."

You turned back to your chair, tearing your eyes away from the blanket that was now a pale blue in the sunlight - a few shades lighter than the cerulean colour it would be in the afternoon. "Not now, Taehyung." 

Taehyung sighed, looking at the floor, tension exhaled into the room. He sat silently for a few seconds, the ticking clock announcing each moment clearly to you. "That's fair. It's just.." He looked back at you. "I'm used to thinking of you as the person I loved." He nervously let his eyes pan around the windows, gazing at the sunshine that streamed through the window, before turning back towards your gaze. "I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I'm just really grateful for your presence-" 

"Taehyung." You sharply interrupted him. "Two years ago, when your case was reopened for investigation. Who did that?" 

"They told me that it was a well wisher in the neighbourhood. Another jailor said it was for good behaviour." He shrugged. 

You scoffed aloud, more loudly than you would have liked him to hear. 

He frowned, lips drawn in a tight line in annoyance. "Don't believe me? I'll have you know, Y/N, I was among the most well behaved at prison. Absolutely no tantrums. I even ate the salt-less, disgusting food they'd give there. No crying. Nothing. I can show you later on if you want, I think I have a report stuffed somewhere here," He got up, shuffled towards his bag and checked the last zip, hunting for a report you had never heard of. 

"It was me." 

Taehyung whirled around to face you, unruly hair swinging like the seats of a carousel at a carnival, and raised an eyebrow. "What were you?" 

"I was the one who insisted on opening the case for reinvestigation, the case of your stepfather's assault. Went around collecting evidence, searching for people who knew about your family better, getting their voices recorded, finding about the whole deal to frame you and stuff. Nearly got fired." You shrugged, sipping your espresso and wincing- too bitter. "You're welcome, by the way. The coffee is getting cold." 

"I don't care about the coffee." He moved the cup aside - nearly spilling the liquid, roughly settling back into the seat he had been occupying for the last few hours. "You were the one who asked for re-opening the case?" 

"Just said that." 

He slumped back in his seat, and your eyes took in how he spread himself out on the chair, tiredness lacing his figure. "I didn't know that." 

"Now you do." You said, sipping your coffee and watching Taehyung do the same. 

Taehyung stared blankly at you, and you couldn't fathom what was swirling in those ebony orbs of his. "Why did you do that, Y/N?"

"Honestly," you smile softly at him, "I was expecting a thank you."

"You should have expected questions, Y/N. Why did you help me?" Taehyung's blank expression made way for a confused one, eyebrows furrowing and lips pouting. 

"I did what I had to do as a-" You paused here, unsure of what to say. "As a friend, Taehyung, nothing more. I knew you were innocent-"

"How were you so assured?" He pressed on."I could be a complete 180 from the man I met you as. I could be fake. I could be an impostor. I could-"

"You could do a bunch of things, Taehyung." You stared him straight in the eye, trying to keep your emotions at bay. "But you could never tell a lie." 

Taehyung scoffed. "You sound like one of the wishy-washy pick-me kind of girls in the movie. No, I don't lie, but I could." 

You sighed. As much as you cared for Taehyung, you had never really cared for his argumentative attitude. "I went with the assumption that you were the same person I knew, Taehyung. The one whom I respected and trusted. I acted on that feeling." 

"That wasn't trust, Y/N. It was naivety. You were naive to believe me." Taehyung paused, uncertainty lining his forehead as he spoke. "You shouldn't have trusted me." 

You rolled your eyes- you couldn't understand why he was so desperate to make sure that you remained aloof from him. What had you done to be treated like that? What had he done to force everyone away from him? 

You tried to play off his remaining doubts and frustrations as insecurities he developed while in jail, and moved on."Alright then, you impostor. I was naive to trust you. And even more naive to believe you. Happy? Now shush. I don't want to talk about this." You tried to clear your mind of any doubts you had about Taehyung, but his behaviour, the way he interacted with you - it couldn't help but increase the worry and confusion in your mind.

Taehyung leaned forward to look you in the eye before smiling softly at you - you couldn't understand why. You were going to give him a criminal record, maybe arrest him. You were potentially ruining his life again, and he smiled at you. "If you say so, officer." Taehyung said, settling into the chair - leaving your mind reeling with questions you weren't sure you wanted the answers to. 

You opened the laptop again, wearily. "Let's get back to the questions; the sooner we finish this, the better. Where did you source the paint from?" 

"You mean the graffiti? And chalk?" You nodded. Taehyung sighed."Terminology, Officer, terminology. Make no errors." He raised a finger to wave at you, as if to say no. You rolled your eyes -it seemed that you were the only one concerned about what would happen to him after this, because Taehyung quite clearly was not. "I bought it with the allowance money that was kept for me in the bank- as much as I hated that man, his cards proved to be useful."

You raised an eyebrow, skeptical. "You didn't steal it." 

"No. Took it from my step-father's account. Technically, now mine. Apparently he left everything to his children, and I'm the only one alive that I know of. Maybe he had other children- I wouldn't doubt it for a moment if he had, but that doesn't change my right to his money either." 

"Any other members of your family who had been granted access to that account?" You asked, wanting to make sure that there were no loopholes - you didn't want a future possibility of Taehyung being entangled with the wrong side of the law again. 

He rolled his eyes, leaning further. "Curious little thing, aren't you? Like I'd told you last night, most of them are dead. Mom had died a few months before I was arrested - thanks to my stepfather being an alcoholic and taking everything out on her. Grandmother already had massive health issues - she passed away after two years of me being in jail - they had let me come out for her funeral."

"My siblings - a brother and sister, if you remember - were taken in by a distant relative, and the last time I spoke to them was three years ago. I'm not allowed to contact them because I might end up being a 'bad influence'," he air quoted the words, laughing mirthlessly. "Guess they won't be too delighted to see me again. You probably know about my stepfather - got drunk and passed out. Permanently. But yeah, that's all. I'm pretty much the sole benefactor from that account."

Hearing how nonchalantly he spoke about it, you were forced to maintain a strong face and be professional. You couldn't possibly think of even wanting to comfort him in any way. "So, you were absolutely not stealing."

"Nope. No. Not at all. Want any further repetitions?" 

"That won't be necessary," You said, having typed out the information - tracking his expenditures would also be necessary now, apparently. "Any expenditure you make shall be monitored, now. Be careful."

"Always have been." He chuckled, getting back to spinning the glass on the table. "You know me." 

You ignored him. "Your cards will be tracked, and any loose cash will be checked by us. If we feel that there's any room for suspicion, you will have reason to be monitored." 

An odd silence filled the room while you tapped away at your laptop, filling in more details about the incident. Taehyung would be having a criminal record again, you thought to yourself. It was the only thought that echoed in your mind. It made you feel uneasy in a way, but you swallowed your unease down. There's a promotion to focus on. 

"Taehyung, something has been bugging me since I caught you vandalising." You shifted a little bit, before deciding to spit out the question. "Why did you do it?" You leaned forwards on the table, elbows digging into the wood as you tried to grasp the answers from him. 

Taehyung looked you in the eyes, and then looked away. "I don't know."

"You don't know." You raised your eyebrows, leaning back incredulously. "Taehyung, that's not an answer." 

"I did it because I wanted to. It was fun. I'd see kids in the morning pointing at my graffiti work and they would like it. There would be people claiming it looked good. I felt acknowledged and I just-" He pleaded, unable to continue without pausing to recollect his calm. "I felt like doing it. After years of having questions raised at me for committing a crime I never did, I finally had people talking about the work I did. Even if it was just chalk drawings." 

You exhaled in confusion. The Taehyung you had known - he was never like this. Confident, assured, independent. That was what he seemed to you when you were younger. And now, to see him want to be validated by others who never even cared for him- it felt ridiculous to you. Why was his only way of feeling validated involving something against the law? "Okay, then." 

You went through the complaints that had been registered against him, hand resting against your forehead as you asked him the most commonly asked question. "Why the insignia 'V'?" 

"V for victory?" He made a 'V' sign with his fingers, "I liked to think that I won against the world by rebelling against its sense of black and white. I saw everyone talk about it, and I felt like the same people who had once pointed fingers at me, blaming me for something I hadn't done, were now pointing fingers at something I had done - I felt victorious. I didn't need to show myself and possibly want more than I had already let myself have - this was enough for me." 

You pulled your lips in a tight line, and hummed in response - there were two places that together had put in about twenty complaints, so you had to respond to all of them. You kept reminding yourself that neither did you have the space to feel sorry for him, nor did you have the power to say sorry to him. You simply kept your head turned to the screen, typing in answers to all the complaints. 

Taehyung leaned forward after a few seconds. "What punishment do you think I'll get, Officer?" 

"If the chief is feeling good, maybe you'll get community service, with a fine," You looked up at him. "Or maybe some time in jail." 

"How much time?"

"Maybe a month or two?" 

"Oh." Taehyung slumped back into his seat nonchalantly. "Cool then." 

How was he this calm? You thought to yourself. He might be going to jail. For a second time.

"Yup." You shut the laptop, finally, after hours of typing information and recording it. Sighing, you lifted the porcelain mug once again to absolutely drain it of coffee, your rather loud gulps echoing in the silence of your office. 

Taehyung tapped his fingers on the table- probably some old tune he had learnt before. You remembered that he played the saxophone - from nights of serenading tunes that he had played for you with his beloved instrument. "How long do you think the chief will take to reach here?" 

"A few hours, maybe? I'd expect him around ten, to be honest. Nevertheless, let me check." You quickly called the chief on your phone, hearing his ringtone play some old Korean trot song before it was picked up. 

"Hello, yes, yes, Y/N. I expected your call." A gravely, rather rough voice responded to you- like it hadn't been used for a few hours. "I shall be reaching the office around eleven. Keep Taehyung with you." 

"Yes sir," you said, keeping the phone on your table and turning to Taehyung.  "The chief said he'll be here by eleven." 

Taehyung nodded in acknowledgement. 

"It's nearly eight thirty now." You looked at the cuckoo clock again. "Would you like to freshen up?" 

"Where?" Taehyung asked, eyes widening. "Shouldn't I just be at the office?" 

"Yeah, you should. My place is right here- the back of this office is where I live, so you'll be fine." You look down at his clothes, grease, paint and metal shrapnel all over them. "Besides, you look like you need a change of clothes." 

Taehyung stepped into your house with an air of curiosity, to see how his once classmate was living. His head stooped low to enter through the small door you had, eyes widening in surprise when he found that the hall of your house was larger than he had anticipated. 

The house was quaint, a hall with an old couch which doubled as a bed when needed. There was a table in the middle of the room, too low to be a dining table and too high to be a center table. For coffee, maybe? There were maybe five or six magazines scattered haphazardly over it, covering nearly every inch- except for one corner, where Taehyung spotted a shining acrylic blue. 

You, however, spotted what page you had left a magazine open at. Squeaking, "I'm sorry!" you ran to shut the booklet close, afraid that Taehyung would spot your love for shirtless men. 

Picking up the magazines, you grinned sheepishly at him. "Just a moment! I'll be back, a bit of cleaning to be done, sit right here!" You patted the couch, trying to convince Taehyung. 

Taehyung turned away from the pictures he had been observing- was there one of you both? - and nodded, eyes widening in surprise as he saw how you scuttled away to hide the magazines. He looked around again, taking a feel of your house- it seemed like the old you. There was some patchwork embroidery you had left in a corner, atop what seemed to be a showpiece? Taehyung stepped closer to see it in detail, and was amazed at the way you had managed to drag the red thread over and over the pink fabric to make floral designs. It reminded him of the rose he had been trying to complete the previous night, and he grit his teeth. He shouldn't be thinking about that now. That shouldn't be what he does anymore. No more.

You came back, looking quizzically at him. "Take a seat, Taehyung! It's alright." 

"Uh, yeah." He shuffled over to the couch again. "Did you make that?" 

You looked in the direction his finger pointed to. "Yeah. Tried doing embroidery for stress release purposes." 

Taehyung grinned at you. "Stress release?" He asked, bemused. 

"Yup." You said while making sure that the magazines were well hidden. "The department I wanted to be in was forensics, you know?" Taehyung nodded, he had been privy to most of your discussions about the advances in forensic technology and analysis - even if he didn't understand anything, he knew your love for it. "Well, they didn't allow me. So the whole 'stress' thing began." You walked back to him, making air quotes as you emphasized on stress. "My mother suggested embroidery would take my mind off it. So, that incomplete piece you see there?" Taehyung nodded, concentrating on every word that left your mouth. "That started a few days ago." 

"It looks like it's complete, though- are you really good at it?" Taehyung looked at you again, turning back from the embroidery you were now rising to get. 

"Pretty much? It's easy once you get the hang of it." 

"Ah." Taehyung said, a dull silence settling into the room for a few moments as Taehyung looked around your room.  

"That picture." He pointed, and you turned your head around. The picture he was focusing on was on your mantelpiece, resting happily. The frame had butterflies stuck on its corners, two large and two small. The border was white, now off white, and had pink dots in certain places. It was a picture of fireworks- red, yellow and blue mixing together in a dull sky to breathe life into the picture. And right in the middle, surrounded by this liveliness, were you and Taehyung. Beaming. 

Taehyung turned to, finger still pointing at the picture. "That's our picture, right?" 

You hummed in affirmation. "That's us, freshman party. We had known each other for a few weeks at this time."

"And I had stopped someone from asking you out, right?" Taehyung reminisced. "That was fun." 

You snort. "You had punched him in the face when he asked for my name, Taehyung." 

Taehyung smiled. "I didn't want anyone to harm you, Y/N, and he seemed like he would harm you." He spread out his arms and grinned smugly at you. "In a way, I rescued you. That night." 

And so many other nights, you wanted to say. For all the time you had known Taehyung, he had been fiercely protective of you - for reasons he never truly told you. You didn't question it either, basking in the feeling of being wanted by someone. 

You cleared your throat, hoping to clear your mind as well. "You should go take a shower, Taehyung." Glancing at the clock, you noted the time and motioned towards the washroom. "It's nearly nine. Go take a shower, call for me if you need anything. I'll go get some clothes for you."

Taehyung nodded, rising up slowly to go in the direction you pointed. "Towels are inside," you shouted after him, and he yelled in response to say he understood. In some ways, too many ways, he felt like the Taehyung you once knew. 

You went to your room to pick out some clothes, opening your meager collection to salvage something that would fit Taehyung. Your eyes scanned over your uniforms, jumpsuits, jeans, t-shirts and finally landed on the hoodies- probably the largest collection in your wardrobe. Thankfully, you loved large, loose hoodies. You started pulling them out, holding each one up and imagining Taehyung's proportions in them. 

The red one, with blue paw prints. "Nah. Too tight." 

The black plain one. "That's mine, I'm not sharing that." 

The grey ones- nearly three. You skipped over all of them, not understanding how none of these oversized hoodies would seemingly fit Taehyung. He'd gotten humongous, broad shoulders and everything. 

You picked out a few more, trying to see whether it would be a fit. None worked. 

When you picked up the next one, you could already picture him wearing it. It was the hoodie you had taken from Taehyung during the first year you knew each other. You looked at its loose sleeves, stretchy from you tugging Taehyung behind you with it way back then. The green fabric of the hoodie was slightly pale in a certain spot - you had spilled soda all over him in a fit of anger.

During your forensic chemistry class,  the teacher didn't recognise their mistakes in the procedure (they used the wrong test for detecting the sample, and blamed it on you), and you were pretty miffed the whole day. Taehyung had bought sodas for the two of you, having planned to go stargazing later on. And you, in a terrible mood, flipped him off in a way that had the soda spilling over him. You cried, Taehyung laughed, but the hoodie was still stained. You took it with you later on to clean it - but the stubborn stain never left. You were agonized, Taehyung amused, but the hoodie- it was still stained. Taehyung had laughed it off, telling you to keep it with you for as long as you wanted- he could buy a dozen more hoodies to last him till then. 

When you left to head home that winter break, you had taken the hoodie with you. You had taken it on your date, crying on its sleeves when you were stood up. And when you came back, Taehyung was suddenly a criminal. 

You shook your head to remove the memories of that time, holding the hoodie in your hand and gently caressing its sleeves. So many memories were held in these threads that meshed together to form the fabric of your youth. Good or bad? You didn't want to dwell on that. 

"Y/N? Could I get the clothes now?" Taehyung called from the washroom. You picked up a extra large pair of cotton shorts and a hoodie, and passed it to him without really thinking- you'd done it before when he got drunk at college too, having him come over at your place, shower, change, and practically behave like a couple- at least, that's what you had thought of it then. 

Get it together, Y/N, why are you thinking about that? 

"Thanks!" he shouted again, grasping the clothes with his fingers and whisking them away to the confines of the washroom. 

You gripped at your hair and pinched your cheeks. You couldn't keep thinking about the old Taehyung. You didn't know if it was truly him anymore. 

"Uh, Y/N?" Taehyung stepped out of the washroom, the previously oversized shorts clinging to his thighs for dear life and the hoodie snugly fitting his figure. "I think it's a bit tight, but I'll make do." 

Your eyes widened in horror; Taehyung looked like he was moments away from bursting the shorts. "I'll get you new pants, wait a second. These ones don't fit." 

You turned back to your cupboard, looking for the loosest bottoms you could find. "I think the hoodie still fits though, right?" 

"Yeah." You heard Taehyung right over your shoulder, scaring you. 

"Jeez, when did you get this close to me?" You turned to face him, crossing your arms, looking at his hair which still had droplets sticking to its edges. 

"When did you get this far from me, Y/N?" His eyes bore into yours, sweetly intense eyes gazing at you like it was the first time he saw you. "What happened?" 

You shrugged, not wanting to answer it. You picked up a loose pair of denim jeans that you had found stuffed away at the back of your closet. Pushing it into his hands, you told him to go change. 

Apparently, your instructions fell on deaf ears. "What happened, Y/N? Answer me. Please."

You moved your gaze to his clothes, not wanting to focus on the thoughts that rushed back when you thought of him. What had happened? You moved your hands to your sides, resisting the need to hold him and know him all over again. "The hoodie looks good on you. Would you-" 

"So do our hands." He held yours, snugly fitting his palm- your calloused fingers against his calloused ones, heat burning in the sleeping embers of your palm. His eyes gazed at the joint fingertips almost reverently. "They fit well."

"Taehyung, now is not the time-" You begin, cut off by his frantic breathing.

"When is the time, Y/N? When will I get to live? When will I get to feel like a human? When will I be innocent?"

His hand caressed your palm, touching your forearm, your elbow, your shoulder, and your cheek -leaving a burning trail behind him everywhere he touched. You shivered. "Do you know how long I have wanted you, Y/N? Years. Seven years, now. I have loved you for years. I have wanted you for years. I did all sorts of things to remember you while in jail- kept asking for you, kept calling for you. I didn't want to forget you, Y/N. Not you. I couldn't forget you, no." 

He pressed your palm to his chest, and you could feel a dull thump echo through the clothes, reverberate in your palms. "That fire, Y/N. My passion in the promises I'd made to you. It never went anywhere. I always loved you. I always will. You can't make me leave again, not again. Please, no." 

He held your palm up to his cheeks, not regarding the tears that were streaking your cheeks and his. "You feel me, right? It's me. Taehyung. I am the one you trusted. I'm the same. Trust me again. Please." 

You tried to hold back the tears that threatened to slide down your cheeks, not wanting to pain Taehyung anymore. He held your forehead to his, pressing on the back of your head to meet his - upclose, you could see the redness that clouded the shine that his eyes would normally have. You couldn't hold back your tears anymore, nearly whimpering when you saw how broken he was- sirens swimming in the whirlpool of his eyes, singing songs of misery. "You know me, right? Do you know me? Do you recognize me? Kim Taehyung, police cadet. Your friend. Your classmate. You know me, right?" He asked, nose nearly brushing yours. "Do you know me?"He cried, eyes washing over the fire that ignited behind his pupils. You didn't see a vandal, or a criminal, or a friend. You saw a broken man. 

"Taehyung, oh, Tae," you cried, putting your hands on his shoulders, watching him slink down to the ground as his body trembled and shivered. You wrapped your arms close around his figure, unable to understand his pain but just wanting it to go away. 

You sat like that for a while, coaxing the tears and short whimpers out of him as he held onto your fingers, wanting to remember something he once had: you. 

"I always asked for you, you know that?" Taehyung shivered as he spoke, even if the chills of the weather outside barely seeped into your home. "I always loved you. I don't know why they kept me there for so long, Y/N. I didn't do anything wrong. I don't know why I'm made to feel like this…" he trailed away, tears gathering at his chin as they endlessly flowed down his cheeks. 

You glanced a nervous eye at the clock, wanting to make sure that you get to the station- no matter what happens. The bubbling of water distracted you from the ticking of the clock, and you turned off the stove. Scouring your cabinets for a chamomile tea bag was hard, but you knew you needed it. Taehyung always seemed to calm down with tea - you had used it multiple times before. Times of which you have multiple memories. Times you wish to forget. 

Why did I ever love Taehyung? The question kept echoing in your mind as you leaned on top of the kitchen counter top. Things would have been so much simpler if simply looking at him wasn't so hard. His smile, his behaviour, his tears - it was all but a painful reminder of what you could have been if things had gone different. If only. 

You poured the hot water into the mug you had settled on the kitchen top, watching the water bloom into a serene shade of yellow as you dipped the tea bag into it repeatedly. You prepared one mug, then another, hearing the soft declarations Taehyung kept repeating while he was seated. 

All you had wanted to study was forensic science, and that was simply for one reason: you didn't want to interact with people. 

People are complicated, over emotional beings. and you couldn't help but feel helpless every time you had to encounter a suspect. You would constantly be told by your professors to see them as lawbreakers - but all you tried finding was signs of humanity in them. That even the most vicious killers had scope for reform. That's why you stuck to the subjects you wanted - you were good at finding signs of life, not squashing them. You consistently failed those classes, without any doubt. And today, it seemed like all those classes were laughing at you. 

"Here." You handed the mug to Taehyung, who muttered thanks. He rubbed his hands once or twice on the pants you told him to change into and took a sip from the warm tea. You resisted the urge to reach out and wipe the tears that lined his face, and try and wipe the scars of the past that had scarred him so badly - but you couldn't. You were a mere spectator in the game of his life. You couldn't possibly do anything other than hurt him more. 

"Thank you. For letting me express all of it. I could finally say everything that I wanted to before I was forbidden from speaking about it again." Taehyung tapped against the mug, fingernails resting on ceramic as the sun slowly headed westward. "I'm sorry that I've been such a burden to you, Y/N. I wonder if I can do anything to reduce the pain and confusion I put you through - I doubt I can." He looked at you carefully, though you couldn't tell what he was thinking. "Thank you." 

You let his words echo in the room, preoccupied with your thoughts. It hurt you to see him so broken, and you couldn't help but worry about him. 

"Taehyung, I-" You opened your mouth to respond, watching Taehyung pay attention to every move you made - only to be interrupted by your phone loudly ringing. 

"Sorry, this must be important." You got up to get your phone, watching Taehyung slump in his seat from the edge of your vision. 

"It's the chief," you announced, picking up the phone. 

He got straight to the point. "Come to the station, soon. Bring Taehyung with you." he told, his voice laced with a rather sharp edge- a tone that you had recognized in the years you had worked under him. Things were- most probably- not good. 

You responded with a simple "yes", mind dwelling on the impending result that Taehyung would get. You felt that it would be unlikely that he would be going to jail- at least, you hoped so.

Turning to Taehyung, you tried to hide the fear and shakiness that lined your voice. "Let's go." 

Taehyung sighed, playing with the mug as he rose up. "It's time, isn't it?"

"Good morning, Sir." You greeted the chief as he hurried into the small office, giving Taehyung a glance and then facing you. 

"Morning." He gruffly responded, turning to your laptop. "We found an eyewitness for the vandalism, so we are getting them for the interrogation as well." 

"Another interrogation? We've already done it, sir, and all the information is recorded here. I doubt it will be necessary-"

"Please, Y/N," He calmly said. "Leave the decision about it being necessary to me." 

You stepped back, subconsciously edging closer to Taehyung - a move noticed by the chief as well. 

"Y/N," he began, "I need to speak to you. In private. Step outside for a few moments, please." 

You nodded, briskly walking towards the doors and yanking them open. There was a warm gust of wind that blew across your face, and you turned to face the chief. 

"Y/N," the chief began, before pausing for a moment, "Officer Y/N. I'm going to need you to think clearly now." 

"Yes." You set your features as tightly as you could, not wanting to seem distracted in any way. 

"Do you have any type of bias in this case, perhaps due to your past relation with him?" he looked quizzically at you, as if trying to decipher an enigma scribbled onto your face. 

Your blood chilled, for some reason. Were you having any bias? "No, sir." 

The chief hummed - you couldn't make head or tail of his reaction. He kicked at a pebble before continuing. "From the recordings I heard the previous night in the office, and the way you let him come with you to freshen up a bit, one particular thing has struck me: you were trying to find reasons for Taehyung to be justified as a victim, weren't you?" 

You gulped before responding. "Yes, sir. I believe the culprit committed vandalism as a coping mechanism to get over the hurt caused over the years." 

The chief sighed heavily. "Well then," he said, "I suggest we continue with our investigation, and find a way to make sure the culprit in the matter is stable as well. We can't have repeated cases like these - we have a reputation to uphold for the police as well." 

You nodded stiffly. "Yes, sir." 

The chief sighed again, glancing at the street. "Our witness should be here soon." He turned to you again. "Funnily enough, she volunteered as a witness with CCTV backup to claim that Taehyung had vandalized her shop too. Apparently she heard you arrest him last night - so we have to hear her out." 

The chief turned again to the road, eyes narrowing in hopes of spotting the witness soon. "The investigator whom she contacted has said she is a reliable witness, but I'm going to need to verify her statement nonetheless." He turned back, heading into the office.

You stared at the road that the chief was looking at before - the direction from which the supposedly reliable eyewitness would come, before heading back inside. 

Taehyung was still slumped in his seat, fingers tracing drawings all over the pants you had given him. The chief was shuffling around behind the desk, pulling two spare chairs ahead - one for Taehyung, you presumed, and one for the eyewitness - whoever that would be. 

"Mr. Kim Taehyung," the chief began, "there has been an eyewitness who has offered their testimony - whether it is to defend you, or further establish evidence of you vandalizing public spaces, I'm not yet aware. We shall be interrogating them - and maybe you, as well, now." 

Taehyung rose up from the corner he had settled into, and shuffled into the seat the chief had set for him, wordlessly. 

The door opened to reveal an older lady, dressed in a purple shaded hanbok, hair delicately pulled back into a tight bun and eyes peering around the whole office in curiosity. She found the chief, walking closer to the desk where he was arranging the records. "I'm here as the eyewitness..?"She said, looking at both you and the chief. 

"Ah, yes. I presume you're Ms. Park?" The chief asked, pulling the chair out for her to settle into it. Under the light that shined across her face, you could make out the wrinkles that lined her skin and the greys in her hair - not that that was relevant to what would happen. 

"I saw him vandalize the outside of my store a few days ago," she earnestly began, pulling out pictures that she had taken of the design on her window.  "I'm a florist, you see. His designs are clearly inspired by that, aren't they?" She pushed the pictures in front of your vision, and you could see what she meant - the designs of orchids, hibiscus and asters stared back at you, intricately painted onto the glass windows of the florist's shop. 

She pulled out more pictures. "There's been similar instances all over the neighbourhood- the other florist had a rose, the school received drawings full of children's stories and fairy tales, and had their walls painted with similar stories. In fact, the restaurants around here even said that their menus were drawn onto the streets, right in front of their doorstep." 

The chief looked at the pictures carefully, with you peering at them as well, taking in the detail that Taehyung had while he worked while making each of his works- no, vandalising, you corrected yourself. He raised an eyebrow at the eyewitness, who seemed to shrink into her seat. "What does this bring forward as evidence for or against the culprit? We already know what the crime is, and its details. We just have to determine a punishment- either a hefty fine or jail. Do you have anything that can justify him getting exempted from either?"

Ms. Park looked at you and the chief before turning to Taehyung apologetically, placing a hand on his knee - as if consoling him. "I think that at the end of the day, all he was doing was beautifying the neighbourhood, wasn't he? And most of the residents here don't have a problem with it-" the chief looked at her incredulously- "so please, don't punish him or something. A lot of people appreciate his work in our neighborhood, you know?" 

"But we have been receiving complaints about him since the past few days," the chief said. "Why the sudden change in opinion?"

Ms. Park fidgeted with the hem of her hanbok for a few moments, shaking her head nervously. "Some of us shopkeepers were really bothered by it at first, yes, but we also had some customers come over to inquire about the artwork. It looked professional to them. So we came to an ultimatum : we will let this young man paint and draw for us, on our walls, as much as he wants - as long as it's pretty," she emphasized, one hand patting her chest, "we'll pay him to do it." 

You held back a sob as you saw Taehyung's eyes glimmer - a ray of hope shining in them.His knee bounced up and down- a habit you knew was something he had had since years - and he smiled softly when Ms. Park squeezed his hand. You felt like things were finally going to go well. The chief exhaled roughly before rubbing his forehead, glancing at Ms. Park, who smiled at him in the hope that he would understand her reasoning. 

"The law, honestly, doesn't care about intentions- I don't think I really understand why I should even let him go. Vandalism is a punishable offence, and the perpetrator has been aware of its consequences. Why the sudden feeling to save him?" The chief questioned, eyes steely and tough. 

Ms. Park hesitated for a few moments. "I believe he deserves a second chance." She pulled her chair ahead, the metal ends scraping against the tiles, and pleaded once again. "He was arrested for years for something he hadn't even done - and now, might face a few more months in the same place for simply being artistic. I don't think it deserves punishment."

"That's for the law to decide, not you, madam." The chief sternly said. "I suggest you leave such decisions to us."

The room remained tense and quiet for the next few moments, and your eyes were trained on Taehyung. You noticed the quiver in his hands, the way he shrunk into his chair - as if to hide away from whatever the upcoming decision would be. 

Ms. Park was the first to interrupt the loud silence. "Oh, come on. Let me just pay for the boy's bail." 

The clock chose that moment to loudly announce the next hour: was it eleven? Twelve? You weren't paying attention. You only saw the way Taehyung rose up from his seat - in happiness, you thought - with fists sticking to his sides. "No. I won't accept it." 

You felt the chief look with just as much disbelief as you did. Why was he so hellbent on being a perpetrator when he could be free? 

Ms. Park laughed. "No. I'm not listening to that whole self righteous thing that you probably have," she swatted the air with her hand, as if to push away any explanations Taehyung could give.

"Look, ma'am. I have the money to get a bail, or even pay the fine. I don't want you to pay for me and then hold it above my head like a massive favour you have done for me." Fire blazed in his eyes as he spoke up, rather indignantly. "I can take care of myself." 

"To hell with that attitude," Ms. Park said. "I decided to help you because I didn't want you to suffer once again because of misunderstandings." She pulled Taehyung back to sit on his chair, clasping his hand between her wrinkled ones. "You had to go through so much pain at such a young age - no one deserves that. I was a mere bystander at the time you were arrested, and I regretted it then. I still regret it now." 

She sighed before caressing the back of his hand lovingly, thumb gently pressing on the skin- as if to feel the pain those hands had to go through, and you thought you saw a hint of a tear on his cheeks. "So don't question me for 'saving' you, or something - what you did was perfectly fine for me. I love the way my street looks now, and so do the neighbours. All that really remained was the artist's identity- and now that I know it's you, I don't feel any sort of guilt in justifying what you did." 

You were right. Taehyung was crying. It wasn't silent tears that rained gently down his cheeks, it was a whole thunderstorm. You saw the chief turn away, from the corner of your vision, but you couldn't bring yourself to do the same. He was biting on his bottom lip to hold back any of the sobs or whimpers that came, head lowering to hide the tears. 

Ms. Park simply caressed his hand, over and over, till he calmed down enough to wipe his tears with his free hand. And when he raised his head up, you saw him like a new person. The wound up Taehyung you had met again a few hours ago was slowly vanishing - in his stead, there was a free Taehyung who smiled like the world's burden had been lifted off his shoulders. "Thank you," he murmured. 

The chief sighed again. "I still don't understand how it came to this." 

"Neither do I," Ms. Park laughed. "But it is what it is. We'll pay the fine."

"I'll do it," Taehyung started, only to be shushed by the elder lady. "I want to do it. Let me do it." She turned again to the chief, the bubbly happiness giving way to seriousness. "You can make sure he pays the fine, right? Withdraw the complaints for us too." 

The chief looked at you and nodded, and you got to work - carefully opening the laptop again and making sure that you transferred the report from 'investigation' to 'resolved', and that the complaint was withdrawn. 

The chief, meanwhile, made physical records of it, and informed Taehyung of the fine - which, despite his insistence, Ms. Park paid off, whipping out a cheque she had kept ready, somehow. You added the details to his resolved record as the chief dictated them to you, keeping them for future references - which you hoped would only be needed to prove his innocence in any situation. 

Nearly twenty minutes of details, questioning, and a written assurance from Taehyung that he would be liable to arrest if he continued illegal activities, it was done. Taehyung was free. 

The chief read over the details once again, thoroughly, eyes getting heavier and softer with every document he checked. Once it was all done, filed, and you had stacked the records back in the drawers they were placed in, the chief sagged into the chair, hands clutching the steel arms for support. 

"Thank God," he whispered, eyes closed. "You're fine now." He got up shakily, hands wiping at his eyes to erase any traces of the tears that had possibly leaked out. He walked around the table, reaching for Taehyung - as if beyond the lines of that desk, his duties as an officer stopped and those as a teacher resumed. "Don't you dare do that again, Taehyung. Never again." He held his student by the shoulder tightly, gripping him and shaking him a little - like a parent would scold a kid. "Live a good life, please." 

Taehyung nodded frantically, eyes still wide in disbelief as he ignored the grubby tear streaks on his face. "I will, sir." He had his hands placed politely in front of him, trembling fingers clutching onto the rough denim fabric of the old, loose jeans you had made him wear. 

"Live well," the chief repeated again, thumping Taehyung's shoulder once and then turning around to collect the documents he would need to take with him. He bowed to Ms. Park, who acknowledged him before something at a corner of the small office caught her eye, and turned sharply to you. "Officer Y/N," he began, and you tensed a little bit more. "There was an opening last night in the forensic science department that I got notice of," he said, a smile tugging on the edges of his lips when he saw how your demeanor brightened. "Reach the head office tomorrow in the morning at ten, and I'll give you the details. All the best." 

You hastily held back the sudden smile that threatened to split on your face, smartly saluting your senior before he turned around to leave the office. As he opened the door, you felt a burst of warmth all over your body - the heat of the sunshine rushing into the room. 

Ms. Park walked from her corner to Taehyung, taking his palm between hers and squeezing. "I'm happy that you're free now, Taehyung." She looked carefully at his face - sternness making way for soft concern, and said, "Live wisely. If you need money, or a job to get you started, come to my shop - it's the one you painted with orchids. You remember it, right?" 

Taehyung responded with a rather choked 'yes', nodding his head frantically. He placed his other, trembling hand upon the lady's hands, and solemnly thanked her. 

"That's not needed, I told you." She smiled, before patting his cheek. "You deserve to let yourself live, so use this chance well. Work hard." She turned her head to look through the window behind her, groaning a bit at the sight of the brightly burning sun. "I better leave now - it seems that I'll end up getting a sunburn the nearer to twelve it is." She turned back to Taehyung, smiling softly, and patting his cheek. "Turn up at the shop tomorrow morning, we'll figure something out." 

"Oh, and officer?" she faced you, pointing in the corner where she was standing a few moments before. "I think my grandson had left his plushie over here a few days ago - it's this one, right?" You followed where her hand was pointing, finding a pumpkin plushie left casually on top of a table. "Sungwoo told me he had lost it some time ago, so I just thought it was this one," she laughed awkwardly. 

"I think it is his, he had come yesterday to file a missing complaint for it too," you said, causing Ms. Park to laugh. "He really loves it, doesn't he?" 

"He's not slept well since it went missing. Anyways, I better take it with me, if that's all."

"Just a moment, ma'am," you stopped her hastily. "He'd left a note for the plushie too - I believe Peter?" 

The elderly woman laughed at her grandson's antics, taking the note you offered her and grinning as she read it. "Yes, yes, Peter. I'll take the note with me. Thank you so much for everything, officer."

Thank you, you wish to say - unable to understand how she volunteered to be an eyewitness and defend the one person you cared so much for. Maybe words wouldn't be enough for you to convey how grateful you were to her, so you simply bowed to the woman. 

She took Taehyung's hand again, gently pressing on the back of his hand. "Your mother used to help me out in the shop, you know." Taehyung nodded, and she smiled. "Your hands are like hers. Delicate, yet strong. You can craft beauty with this hand, Taehyung." She squeezed his hand, smiling. "Don't just let that beauty slip away from you." 

She patted his hand again, before turning to you and smiling, and heading out. The sunlight bounced off her gray hair to shine on Taehyung as you looked at him - even with a tired expression, he looked more alive than you had seen him in the last few hours. 

"I'm free," he said, saying it aloud and letting himself feel the sensation for a few moments. 

He turned to you, watching the way your eyes told him that you understood everything you wanted to tell him - even the things he himself didn't understand. "I'm free, Y/N," he repeated, carefully examining his wrists that were once bound with handcuffs - no. There were no restraints there. 

His eyes panned around the room. There was no investigator who questioned him about why he simply couldn't admit his crime. No one who made fun of him for seeking comfort in his art - even if it was illegal. "I'm really free," he murmured again.

Taehyung leaped towards you, pulling you close and holding you tight, as if unable to believe that you were there with him: and that he was here with you for as long as he wanted to be. You let your arms circle around his neck, one curling through the hair at his nape and pulling him further into your embrace, and the other spread out over his back - trying to remind yourself that yes, he was here, with you. 

"Thank you," you felt him murmur into your shoulder. 

"For what?"

"Just being here. With me." He sighed, further tightening the hands that rested around your waist. "After so many unfamiliar faces over the years, seeing yours feels like a reward of sorts for behaving well." 

You laughed at him, slapping his back light heartedly. "Don't talk like you did anything wrong all those years ago. It's not good." You let your hands pane across the expanse of his skin, feeling him cling on to you as you tried to calm him down. "I'm happy for you, Tae." 

He held you like that, for a few more moments - like you were slowly pulling him back into what could be his new normal life. Waking up every day in a room that doesn't have steel bars as a door. Not having to crash at the old house that had haunted him for years. Not having to hide his face in the fear that someone would taunt him for his past. Actually doing something that made him feel happy, confident, and alive. 

"I'm happy too," he murmured into your shoulder. You hummed as he looked beyond your frame to see the streets outside the window - seeing how they were illuminated in daylight. How animatedly people were talking about what their plans for the day were. A kid kept hopping on a chalk drawing of hopscotch he had drawn on the footpath, clutching onto a plushie that oddly seemed like a pumpkin. Someone walked around their stall, setting things up for the day. 

You pulled him away from your grip to look at him again - not wanting to forget any part of him in any way. "I still care for you as much as I did all those years ago, you know." You put your hands on his biceps, just as you used to do when you had to knock sense into your friend. "You better not hide anything from me now." 

"I have no intentions of," he grinned. "Thank you very much." 

You giggled, a feeling you hadn't felt in years fluttering around your stomach like butterflies. 

"About us," Taehyung began, holding your hands in his, "You know that I love you, right?" You felt yourself tense up, and probably Taehyung did too, as he squeezed your hands. "I'm not in any hurry. I want to take some time to understand myself and what I want to do before I think of anything with you. But when I'm settled, and I'm someone I can be proud of, I want to come back to you. Be with you forever." He let go of your hands to hold your cheeks, smiling as he saw your big eyes peer at him. "You'll let me, right?" 

Your eyes softened. "Of course, Taehyung."

"Tae." He corrected you, coming closer to press a kiss on your forehead. 

You smiled when he moved back, glancing down at all of him and laughing. "For beginners, how about we get you clothes to change into?" 

He looked down at his clothes, laughing with you. "Let's go, then?" 

You nodded at him, pulling him out of the office, and locking it securely before turning to a widely grinning Taehyung. "I have a feeling I'm going to love the daytime. It's just so positive, and nice, don't you think? Really warm all over." 

"You're just saying that because you lived like a night owl," you laughed at him, watching his eyes sparkle in the sunshine. 

"Yeah, that wasn't the best way to live, was it?" He clicked his tongue and frowned. "Guess I better start living well now. To new beginnings, then, Officer!!" He grinned and poked your forehead. 

You watched Taehyung skip over the pebbles that were lined outside the office, walking freely on the streets, feeling the dread that you had let build up in your heart for so long slowly drain out of you. "Wait for me!" You screamed behind him, running to catch up to him. To new beginnings, you thought. 

a/n: hopefully, this piece of writing was worth your time 😊 thank you so much for reading graffiti and chalk!! I'd love to hear any feedback you have. Feel free to send it in as a comment, reblog, or as an ask! love, hazel 💞

taglist: @taejinnies (the torture is over bahaha), @xiaokoo, @thedarkwinterrose, @shatzkrinslinzki

masterlist

#kwritersworldnet #btscreatorscorner #bangtaninn #bangtanarmynet #castlebangtan #clubzerooclock #graffiti and chalk #hobipaint #bts fanfics #bts angst #bts fluff #bts imagines #bts fanfiction #bts fanfic #bts smut #bts drabble #taehyung fanfic #bts taehyung #bts kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #taehyung drabbles #taehyung smut #taehyung fanfiction #tae x reader #tae x female reader #tae x oc #tae x you #bts v

[desertofsnowflakes]

Incorrect Order Chapter 4 (Nessian AU)

A/N: I know I haven't been able to update as fast as you'd want me to but I'll try to fix that. Your comments and feedbacks are very much appreciated. Do inform me if you wanna be added/removed from the taglist! If you happen to find my storyline similar to another fic or one of yours, I'm extremely sorry, I might've just not known. All characters belong to the author Sarah J. Mass. Enjoy!

Summary: Don't first impressions always affect the way you see someone? Well, what more with the Nesta Archeron? Nesta meets Cassian at few unexpected places and to say it didn't go well was a major understatement. Certain circumstances make them become enemies to tolerable company to friends to lovers.

Trigger Warnings: None really

1652words | Incorrect Order Masterlist | Read on AO3

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The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to do something they liked. That was the only way Cassian kept from spiraling. Since sending the woman to her own house, Cassian had more than a few moments when he wanted to repeatedly slam his head against a wall. That’s why he spent most of his time sparring with Azriel. He won’t admit he was simping for that woman in his free time too. Or maybe that was always.

Now, sprawled on a couch in front of the TV, with nothing to do but stare at a blank screen, Cassian led his thoughts to the box he kept all unwanted thoughts locked in. He thought about Tomas, her ex-boyfriend. Funny, he thought. I know her ex's name but not hers.

It took him a little too long the other day to realise they didn't exchange names. Again. He once thought that maybe she was purposely not giving him her name. That maybe, for her, he was just a random stranger who happened to save her life. He snorted. Surely anyone would know the name of the person they saved or was saved by— stranger or not. He supposed he'll have to make do with pronouns for now.

After she left his home, it took every scrap of self-restraint not to beat this Tomas dude to pulp and let him rot in the same alley he had the misfortune of meeting him in. He may or may not have been the cause for some extra injuries. Cassian appreciated the woman’s attempt at mercy. He, however, didn’t trust Tomas at all. He was dubious about just handing him over to the police. Who’s to know he won’t frame him and the woman for absurd things? Anyway, he left a note in Tomas’s house saying something like “Step out of line, lose your favourite part of anatomy. Name it and have it for your meal.” He made sure he printed so that no one would recognise his writing. Yet, all this didn’t calm his nerves one bit. He presumed he’ll have to stay on guard for some time now.

Now, back to the girl. He sighed. He didn’t dare change the sheets in his guest bedroom. He didn’t even let Mor use the room when she came over last weekend— which he could bet created suspicion. No, that room was only open when he craved her scent. He even realised one of his shirts was missing. He shrugged it off thinking he would've left it somewhere and just couldn't find it. Once she came to his house, he was constantly thinking about her. So much that now he started pinching himself often. It was the only way he could stop thinking about her— by creating physical pain.

Cassian glanced at the clock on the wall. 2.30 in the afternoon. He walked to the refrigerator and checked his freezer compartment. Huh. No ice-cream. He sighed, grabbed his jacket and keys and headed to the mall to get an ice-cream with a pout. He’ll have to leave for Rhys and Feyre’s first anniversary only around 5.30 to prepare everything. He has enough time to get an ice-cream and probably hang out for some time. Good enough to stop thinking about her. Or so he thought.

***

Nesta wasn’t sore anymore. Her headache was gone almost a week after the incident. Her nose didn’t hurt anymore. Okay, maybe a little bit. It didn’t hurt unless she bumped her nose against something. Today, her nose was dully throbbing because she hit her nose against a pillow yesterday. A very, very soft pillow and yet it hurt this much.

The man’s first-aid and medicines were really helpful.

It really wasn’t fair that he excelled at basic first aid too. It wasn’t fair that he looked so good. With black tattoos swirling over generously muscled arms and shoulder-length dark hair curling at the edges and gloriously tanned skin and hazel eyes with minute flecks of green and brown when taken a closer look at and dimples and—

A quiet “Who is it?” snapped Nesta out of her moping. She looked up to see Gwyn walking to her.

“Who is what?” she asked, feigning nonchalance. Gwyn's pursed lips and glare conveyed that her act wasn't enough.

“Who are you thinking about?” Gwyn clarified.

“What makes you think I'm thinking about someone?” Nesta retorted.

Gwyn sat on the chair next to her and started assisting with classifying the unceremonious heap of books on the table to be kept back in its correct positions on its own rack.

“Nesta,” Gwyn sighed, “Clotho assigned you this stack almost an hour ago. And you've barely finished a third of the stack. Normally, you'd finish stacks bigger than this in an hour. So there's clearly something.”

“It wasn't anyone,” Nesta mumbled.

As usual, Gwyn saw through her lie. “You were twirling your hair,” she said flatly.

Heat inched up her neck. “I was not!”

Gwyn murmured a “uh-huh” and they lapsed into an easy silence till they were almost over.

Gwyn's eyes lit up as it normally did whenever she got an idea. “Is it him? The guy you came with that day?”

Nesta scowled, “How do you know…” she broke off when she realised which 'that day' Gwyn was talking about. Nesta fought back a blush. “No, no, this isn't about him. We don't know each other. Much. Like, we've seen each other a number of times? That's it. Nothing else.” Cauldron, the first part was a complete lie. But at least the rest are true. Will Gwyn happen to know his name? Maybe I ought to ask her. Or maybe I shouldn't.

She should, she decided. She cleared her throat. “Uh, Gwyn? Do you happen to know his name?”

Gwyn frowned and asked, “He hasn't told you yet?”

Nesta shook her head and answered, “No, we, uh, forgot. I guess. We haven't really exchanged names.”

Gwyn nodded and smiled. “Well, he is—”

“Gwyn!” a voice called. “You can't expect me to come over to you and beg for you to help me. Help me only if you want to or don't work under me.”

Gwyn’s eyes widened. She abruptly stood up and mouthed, “Merrill. I gotta go. I’m so sorry.” She all but ran to Merrill, the very strict librarian Gwyn was working under.

Nesta sighed and continued her work. There wasn’t much left so she was able to finish fast. She picked her things and left the library with a word to Clotho, heading to the mall.

***

The best way to keep whatever problems one has out of their mind was to also eat something they liked. So, ice-cream it was. After having his ice-cream, Cassian was aimlessly walking around the mall. Here, not more than a month ago, he met her for the first time. Almost a month ago. He huffed out a breath. The fact that he was pining for her this long blew his mind off. He—

“This is your fault— not mine. I’m not taking the blame for this,” he told her. They bumped into each other. Again.

Her lips quirked up. “It is kind of my fault. But blame this—,” she poked his chest, “— for making my nose hurt again.”

Just like that, his mood sobered. “How are you?” he asked.

She pointed at the cafe to her left. “Coffee?”

He nodded. Who was he to say no to her?

So they ordered coffee and talked about everything and nothing. He grinned and she laughed. He laughed and she smirked. He wouldn’t say he knew her well but he’d never seen her so carefree. Her laugh was like nectar for a starving man. Her eyes bright and welling up with tears from laughing.

“I don’t think I’ve laughed this much,” she said.

Cassian put a hand on his heart dramatically and said, “I know, I know. I’m very funny.”

Her lips kicked up a notch. She straightened as if she just realised something. He was about to ask when she drawled, “So I just realised that we still haven’t exchanged names.”

Oh. Right. Of course. “Yeah,” he nodded. “Usually, when people meet, they start with introductions but in our case we’ve literally bumped into each other three times and still we don’t know each other.” He shook his head and extended his hand. “Well, hello there. I’m—”

His phone rang in his pocket. Fuck. He was going to kill whoever was calling him now. He was so close to knowing her name. He pulled out his phone to see an incoming call from Azriel. He apologetically looked up at her and said, “I’m sorry. I wish I could choose not to take this call and instead kill this idiot but I can’t. Just give me a moment, okay?”

She nodded and he picked up his call.

“What do you want?” he hissed.

“It’s 5.30 already, you idiot. We’ve got to get the things ready for the party. Mor already went to get the cake and you’re not even at home. Where on all earth and hell are you?” came Az’s faint voice.

“15 minutes only? Mother above, I’m coming.” he said.

Az’s “make it fast” was the last thing he heard before hanging up. “I wish we could stay here and talk forever,” he said to her, “but I have something up in a short while and I totally didn’t realise time was passing this fast. I’m so sorry. It was nice talking to you. Really. And I wish we could meet again. Though without the bumping part.”

He grinned when she smiled and said, “Bye. Have a nice day.”

“You too,” he called back. He didn’t want to think he imagined the subtle look of disappointment on her face because hell, he was a walking epitome of disappointment right now.

taglist:

@shadowsinger07 @im-someone-i-guess @saltyfortunes @cressjacquine @julian-blackthorn-supremacy @champanheandluxxury @zemiraa @ladygabrielli1997 @nehemikkele @heartless--aromantic @sv0430 @ddsworldofbooks @irenethaleia @sjm-things @dontgetsalmonella

#writeblr #kepper's writing #sarah j mass #sjm #sjmaas #sjmverse #a court of thorns and roses #a court of mist and fury #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #acotar au #nesta archeron #nesta #cassian #nesta x cassian #cassian x nesta #nesta and cassian #cassian and nesta #nessian #nessian fanfiction #nessian au #nessian modern au #gwyneth berdara #merrill acotar

[fourfucksake]

online meeting

pairing: chris evans x black!fem!reader

warnings: cursing, stripping, masturbation

word count: 4.2k

p.s this workpiece is set in an alternative reality. this is a professor!chris one shot + i imagined y/n as a black girl, but i hope every single one of you lovely people will read!

Heaps of new policies bombarded universities since the spread of the virus. The amount of preparation and paperwork that had to be completed due to the newest conditions in the teaching system made everyone stressed to the maximum level. Perhaps, that’s why teachers communicated more during those challenging times; only those who work in the same environment can relate to your work frustrations. Individuals whom before appeared almost invisible where now your online buddies. It was quite incredible though.

Chris enjoyed the feeling of this community being available for him whenever he feels like expressing his irritations and or simply desires to moan about his dislikes. Before, he has never considered himself to be a whiner, but since everyone has been constantly moaning and pouting, he thought this is the right time to join the club.

Taking into consideration the current state of the world he was assured that everyone is a complainer right about now. He was okay with that though. No doubt, he didn’t know much about psychology, however, it seemed only logical to allow people to talk about how they feel. Also, it appeared plausible people felt scared, confused, or worried. Hey, these were very surreal times. There was no reason to make others feel bad about having emotions.

Of course, there was some resentment towards certain members of University since all the teaching went online. Sometimes, Chris felt like most of his colleagues gave rats ass about regulations and procedures that were now put in place. Instead of trying to provide the best learning experience possible, they restricted themselves to slamming all the work materials online for students to figure everything out on their own.

Personally, he found online teaching unbearable and exhausting. He hated it; there were no words to describe how much he despised it. At first it was alright; it was tolerable and doable. In a way, it was nice. Being at home, able to wake up later than early morning hours. Being with his dog and going on long walks wherever he wished. Being able to take his time with cooking, exercising, reading. All of those mentioned were exceedingly pleasant.

However, Chris chose to be a teacher. He loved spreading his knowledge around. Since an early age he would teach his younger brother; he was much help when it came to revising, essay or exam tips. This was his passion, he loved it. This pandemic undeniably took this away from him. However, there was still room to provide students with knowledge this way, and he tried extremely hard to do so in most effective ways.

For example, he did not have to orchestrate his own online meetings to be this long. Half an hour, that was a long time slot. This was planned completely on purpose. Ultimately, his desire was to provide students with the time to talk to him, express their concerns, and ask questions. Maybe he took this job way too seriously, he thought, and it wasn't needed. However, there’s always this teacher everyone likes, and Chris wanted to be precisely that guy. It wasn't some stupid ego thing, not at all. He genuinely wanted people to feel like he is there for them and wants them to succeed. Every single individual had an ability to be successful, some just needed an extra push too keep them on track. Although his own schooling experiences where genuinely pleasant, he knew he would benefit more from University experience if he had a teacher like him. Not to lick his own ass, he thought, of course.

After years of working in the schooling system no errors have ever occurred. Until last year, when the last class prior to pandemic began their college journey. Back then and there a problem has arisen – you. It was no one else than little Miss Perfect, the girl who made him look twice when she entered the room. Oh, how tiring and fatiguing crushing on you really was. Chris was always collected and focused while working, but with you in his classes he found himself distracted. Often losing his train of thought, his mind shifted to dark places when your class sat in front of him. Chris was a perfectionist, so this was, in fact, greatly infuriating for him.

He did not feel this way since high school. Back in the day he was not the coolest kid you could walk past in the corridor. Thankfully, he has never had his head shoved in the toilet, but not being bullied did not necessarily mean there’s a successful high school experience behind an average American. In his own opinion, he was just a normal kid that had nothing to show for back then.

Precisely that, being average, was now the reason behind this familiar feeling. A pretty girl, a popular girl causing vivid emotions to flush down himself. Looking at her while she does the most ordinary things was the reason behind the uncomfortable state in his pants. His hormones went ill around her, reminding him of how tough being a teenage boy with no control over his erections was. It felt so familiar, craving her this badly, almost as if he’s done it before. Maybe, in a way, he compared you to someone he crushed on for the whole duration of high school. A beautiful skin complexion, addictive smile and those big, shiny eyes staring at his soul; those qualities of yours highly reminded him of her.

Chris remembered that girl very well. He recalled being fascinated by her presence, by her strong personality, and hypnotic prettiness. Her name did not pop up in his mind for years. Until he met you. Chris had Pearl, Pearl Bennett, tattooed on his brain back then. Needless to say, it was embarrassing how annoyingly beautiful she was. Just like you. Now, he didn’t even know if she was alive, he hasn’t seen her for years. It never really bugged him then, it didn’t bug him now. It was just a pleasant memory that he was able to recollect because of you.

He wasn’t sure about your feelings towards him. Mr. Novak, his colleague, often commented on the way some students would look at him. Chris regularly heard Novak claiming that Evans could get any of “that young pussy” if he only snapped his fingers. Whether it was true or not, he had no idea. Maybe, he was just humble. Or stupid, possibly very stupid.  

The house was practically unoccupied now; his wife was dropping groceries off at her mum’s house and Dodger was nowhere to be found, most likely sleeping someplace in the house. Chris did not mind. In fact, he was relieved to have no other human being here. Since pandemic began his marriage decreased in its quality drastically. For quite some time existing relationship brought more annoyance than joy. He was not sure if it went both ways but noticing how regularly his wife exited their house in recent times it was healthy to assume the feeling was mutual.

How did he feel about his failed marriage? Weirdly, he was awfully okay with it. There was not a single part of him that cared enough to fight for this marriage any longer. Right now, all his thoughts were concentrated around another female. How she managed to look delicious without trying. How she smiled or laughed. How her faced twisted with grumpy expressions once she didn’t understand a certain concept of a lecture. Chris could go on, and on, and on.

It was not possible he could describe you in any other word than perfect. It was quite pathetic, he thought, it shouldn't be like that. Yes, you are a pretty girl and yes, no man can probably say no to you. There was just something about you, something so extraordinary that it took his breath away. What was this fascination? He wasn't sure. However, what he was positive about was that he enjoys looking at you. He enjoys listening to you. He enjoys thinking about you. He enjoys all those things way too much; he was aware of that. He was not ready to stop thinking about you just yet.

Now, sitting in front of his Mac, his eyes were focused on the screen. He wasn’t too up to date when it came to the modern technology, but he also wasn’t clueless to how to work a computer. Setting everything up, he glanced over at the previously printed list of names with time slots besides them. The list was not in alphabetical order, students had their half an hour available for the next eight hours of his life.

It would be a lie to say he was not thinking about you. He was looking forward to seeing your face, even if it’s only on the computer display. Your surname and student ID were somewhere halfway through the list. Naturally, he searched for your name straight away after the programme generated the list.

The ticking of the clock hanged on the nearby wall sounded out so clearly. Almost like a racing heart whenever one feels more strain than usual. He could feel the nervousness growing within him as the time passed. He almost felt bad for the kid who had his scheduled meeting right before you. Chris kept on stuttering, disconnecting, and asking for questions to be repeated. Unfortunately, there was no strength in him to think about the failed one-to-one since his brain was too concentrated on you. His favourite, little student.

His thought process was disrupted as a green dot appeared next to your surname, suggesting your online availability. Licking his lips and fixing his hair, his fingers position themselves on the mouse. One click and the signal began. Beep one, beep two, beep three.

“Hi, Mr. Evans!” Her bubbly voice caused Chris to smile. She waved and in response so did he. She seemed happy, her face expression indicated nothing but joy, he enjoyed it greatly. “Hi! How are you? How’s everything?” He asked with an honest curiosity, still smiling at his student. It’s been months since the last time they spoke without anyone else around. Of course, this was the first instance of them conversating in those settings, but he did not mind. Any type of physical interaction seemed impossible now and anytime soon. This was the best he could receive for a significant period for now.

Their faces didn’t shut for the first couple of minutes. Talking about the past months, Chris was quickly reminded of how smart and funny this girl infatuating really is. They seemed to be getting on well right from the first meeting. Weirdly, she had similar likes and dislikes as well as sense of humour. It was like talking to a long-term friend whom you haven’t seen in the longest time. He noticed her hair change, spotting the long knotless braids; in his opinion she looked completely stunning in this hairstyle. He was quick to comment on it and as a reply he was given a complement on his newest buzzcut.

Sadly, but still, he ended the chit chat to focus on discussing work material. Chris tried to stay on topic and somehow it was going well. For the next couple of minutes, he chatted about work. His hand travelled to the left side of his desk to glance at a list of things he wanted to mention, however, he got cut off by the voice emanating from the screen.

“Are those meetings being recorded, Mr. Evans?” She raised her eyebrows with interest spread across her face. Her back bent forward, causing her face to enlarge on his screen. “I mean like,” She continued and coughed. “Is anyone going to watch this later? Does anyone have access to this after we finish talking?” Her question expanded or rather multiplied, sounding out in Chris’ air pads. There was no denying he was conflicted about why she was asking this question. This was not his first online meeting and not a single individual showed any concern in this matter.

“Well, no, not really. If any of us wanted to report our meeting for any reason then I guess, um, I guess it is possible to reopen the video chat,” Slow nod was all he could do at this very moment. No doubt, he still was not able to understand the nature of her question. “If any of us found the other person’s behaviour concerning, rude or inappropriate then the IT services could recover this video chat.” He added in a robotic tone almost as if he were reading from the script.

“Would you want this meeting to get inappropriate, Sir?”

He chocked a little as his eyes widened. He wanted to slap himself across the face in response to his pathetic reaction. Shouldn’t the age gap mean something? Why was he behaving like he’s on her leash? Why was he this…nervous? Excited?

Assuredly, she should be the one who is intimidated, meanwhile it’s her making the first move. He wasn’t sure whether this simply comes from his politeness and gentles; obviously, momma Evans raised him to be a respectful man. It’s apparent, the fear of scaring you was blocking all his possible moves. Risk of being reported for improper behaviour in the workplace was also a worry of his, but it came nowhere near the terrifying theory of frightening you.

But here you were. Being indecent with him. And oh, how he loved it. How he enjoyed this single sentence leaving your pretty lips. Your remarks were more enjoyable and exciting than everything he has completed with the woman he married in the past year, if not longer.

Was he being delirious? Did your comment indicated what he thought it did? Possibility of his mind playing games on him was high. It’s so easy to assume things happened when you wish for them to happen.

“Do you want to make it inappropriate? Do you want me to be inappropriate with you, Sir?” A deep breath left his mouth and a shiver travelling down his spine followed. He was now sure; he did not misunderstand. This was not his imagination playing him, tricking him into believing there’s something here that does not exist. All of this was very real.

“Whatever you wanna be on this call — I’m happy with,” He managed to speak out loud, fixing himself on the chair. This was a bad idea, he thought once again, a horrible idea that could quite literally ruin his career. Was he going to stop? Prevent this from happening? No fucking way.

“Huh, you sure about that, Mr. Evans? I can get really filthy when I want. I am a naughty girl,” Your words hit him like a truck, and he couldn’t help the blood rush in his trousers. He licked his lips slowly and pressed his back onto the chair. He could say something, but he chose not to. Whatever you planned on doing suited him and there was not an ounce of interest in preventing you from doing so.

No further words were spoken. There was a moment of short silence that felt like forever. A moment for someone to back up, break this madness off. No one expressed a need nor a want to stop. She played with her nipples through her shirt before they journeyed up. The straps of her pale pink top slowly moved down her arm, his eyes patiently followed. To him, you were mesmerising. At this moment you had his whole attention.

Looking straight at him, her hands removed the top and carelessly dropped it on the floor. His eyes glued onto her as the soft material left her body completely. He tensed as his length twitched, reacting to her breasts and hard nipples. Her skin was complemented by the colour of a previously worn top but seeing her without it sent shivers down his spine.

Chris could feel the discomfort in his pants becoming unbearable, needing to expose himself immediately. With shame, but still, he slowly undid his zipper. For a while now the feeling downstairs was insufferable, pleading and begging to be uncovered by his hand. Chris gulped back the lump in his throat as he completely freed his member. The view on the screen made his dick ache, his length twitched, jumping again his tense stomach.

“Liking this?” She teased, firmly grabbing her breasts. His eyes darken when he took in all her naked presence. The way she touched herself, he wanted that too. He wanted to feel her nipples between his fingers. He ached to be close to her.

“I wanna see all of you,” His words escaped his mouth, hand firmly grabbing his cock. Without shame nor hesitation his member was stroked, slowly and decisively, as his back leaned on the chair comfortably.

She was quick to listen. So submissive, he though, hand still firmly hugging his man part. He observed as she stood up, taking a few steps back. Still looking at Chris, her body turned around in a circle. Her moves were slow, very captivating, making Chris feel like every single movement was in slow motion. He already adored her body.

Her hands roamed around her own body before she slipped her hand inside her shorts and panties. Subtle movements of her hands indicated she’s pleasuring herself right in front of him. By her expressions, he was able to conclude that she’s enjoying herself. She didn’t play with herself for too long. Pulling the defiant material down as her eyes travelled to his, she exposed herself completely. He felt his mouth dry at a sigh of her bare body. She gave him a sultry look, realising the power she now held over him.

“Is this how you like me, Mr. Evans?” She broke of the silence, still exposing her hot flesh. It took Chris a couple of second to even register the question, his imagination run too wild to focus now. “Do I like you naked? It’s certainly a more thought-provoking image than how I usually view you,” He teased, slightly raising the corner of his lips in a smug smile.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I love imagining it’s your cock fucking me instead of my dildo,” She said completely unprovoked, making Chris widen his eyes. They did something naughty, something filthy, yet this comment really threw him off. “I’m gonna show you how I play with myself when I think of you,” She added and waisted no time before sitting on the bed. Chris had to admit, he spotted the bed straight away when the call started. Picturing himself laying there, you next to him, he took some time imagining the wicked scene you two could create on that mattress.

“I will show you how much, how much I love picturing us together,” Her seductive voice reached Chris’ ears, his interest growing with every single second. There was this unexplainable fear within him at this very moment, fearing she is going to stop. He was helpless now, he needed her to entertain him long enough for him to reach satisfaction.

Licking his lips once again, he watched as she took a box from underneath her bed. It was a regular box, nothing fancy. Taking off the lid, her hand searched inside for a short moment before pulling out a pink dildo. Suiting, he thought, always liking this colour on her. He admired how her skin tone was complemented by the shade.

“I want you to watch,” His student said firmly, staring right at him. The sound of a dildo followed. Chris’ breath was caught in his throat straight from the anticipation of the next step she’s going to undertake. With hunger, Chris watched as she teased herself, rubbing her clit. The toy fondly slid inside of her, resulting in her lewd sounds and Chris’ silent moan.

Her nipples were hard, her unoccupied hand coming up to fondle them both whilst her bottom lip was taken hostage by her teeth. She was really enjoying herself; Chris could tell. The bed made a squeaky noise every time she moved. The call was so clear, thank God, he was able to enjoy every motion of hers. The moans, whimpers and groans escaping her pretty lips as she fucked herself with a toy. The quality of the video chat was good, but not great. He wanted to see her in full HD, he wanted to see the details. For now, though, viewing this was enough. This was damn good, so good. Those desperate hand movements, stuffing the length as deep as she could, it drove him insane. Oh, how he wanted to stretch her out like no one did before.

“Just like that, baby,” He groaned, squeezing his hard cock. He was conversating with you through moans, examining you as the vibrations caused tingles in your lower department. He couldn’t feel it, but he knew her pussy was throbbing and pulsing, desperate for more length to enter. His body parts were no different; his balls felt heavy and his dick was hard as a rock, begging for a dream release.

The heat began to grow within his body with each and every movements of hers. She kept him going, moaning his name, calling him daddy, reminding him who she’s pulling this show for. If only she had any idea what it did to him. A shaky hand wrapped around his length made rapid movements, fighting for his orgasm to arrive. Watching her, listening to her, it was magical. This craze he had within him, this fixation she caused – it was obsessive. A loud scream, her thighs closing on the pink toy and her eyes shut while she orgasmed was enough, it was everything.

The feeling of euphoria intensely swept through him as a creamy load exploded in his hand. She could not see it, but he knew she felt it. All that left his mouth was a silent “fuck” as he collected his breathe. Chris was in pieces, still processing previous events. It was now clear to him how he pleaded for that orgasm to happen, how he needed it. He was embarrassed to admit how strong, how intense, the load bursting onto his hand really was. Lucky for him, no one knew anything about it but him and himself.  

„You liked this little show of mine, daddy?” Her voice awakened his senses, causing his mouth to water once again. She caught him looking at his crotch, now surely convinced what happened. She removed the toy from her body, a silent whimper followed. She threw it away on the bed like it was nothing, like it did not help them both cum just minutes ago.

“So much baby, so much. Can you show me s’more? One more time,” He breathed, looking at her with lust. She obeyed, without hesitation; her body rose from the bed and did a slow, full 360 to demonstrate her delectable features. Maybe, he was delusional, but he was sure her juices travelled down her leg. If he were right next to her, his tongue would have taken care of that.

“See you in a seminar, right, Mr. Evans?” Her sweet voice rang in his ears followed by his quick nodding. He had a chance to see her collecting the missing wardrobe that she then put on right before him. Chris could not help but notice her shaky legs. She sat down in the exact same position as before. She reached for a cup, drinking, and sipping the liquid through a straw. Now, she was back to her regular self, looking innocent once again. It slightly woke him up, brought half of him to reality.

“Yes, Miss. I will see you there. Be good, huh?” Chris said casually or at least he tried to do so. He was caught by surprise, convinced that he’s going to slur over his words more. He caught a glimpse of her eyes, forming as much of an eye contact as possible through the processor. Her current thoughts seemed impenetrable to him, although he always thought he’s amazing at reading facial cues.

“Me and you both know - I won’t.”

The last words of his current interest sounded from his Mac. Sending him a flirty wink before pressing the right button, she terminated the call. The intense orgasm left his hand still somewhat shaking. Eyes focused on the screen, he looked like he was awaiting another glimpse of her to come back.

Chris’ ecstatic state wasn’t quick to falter. It took another couple of minutes for him to do anything. Literally, anything. He was already late for the next meeting, which he felt absolutely no remorse for. His eyes lowered to look at the mess he produced; his mind displeased as he had realised, he needs to move to clean it.

Once again, it was just him and his usual surroundings. The call was over, just like that, almost as if it never happened. Despite his deepest longing, he could not go back to what just happened, he could not relive it. Your moans and whimpers performed in his head like a favourite song one would put on replay without a hesitation. He was craving more, his fingers curled into fists as he felt his cock hardening again. He was not sure what his next moves in this matter will be, but he was more than sure he needed to be inside this beautiful body.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans blurb #chris evans x reader #chris evans imagines #chris evans #professor!chris #imagine

[high-society-of-readers]

Two Beautiful

Having been roughly a week since Myers outburst. You couldn't help but wonder if the wound care nurse actually did her job and tended to the lacerations on his wrist... Dr. Loomis, having been informed of what happened, took it upon himself and instated a new rule in Myers care plan. The rule in question was that you were no longer permitted to be apart of his daily staffing or routine. Actually, you went even allowed to sit at the front counter in the nursing station anymore either.

Seeing as how you couldn't see him you could, nonetheless, look over his charting. It appears as though this was as close as you could get in terms of caring for him. Gazing around your new cramped desk in the med room all you could do was let out a soft sigh. It's only temporary but in all honesty, it was more than a little depressing. The desk was small, yet somehow, still tightly packed between two filing cabinets overflowing with unsorted paperwork and old shower sheets. 

With time to kill, you set about organizing the disorder, and mayhem that is your desk. Whilst halfway through the first filing cabinet, you stumbled upon a horde of skin assessment sheets. This would answer your inquiry on wither or not Myers wound had been properly cared for. Having a few more minutes to spare for your lunch break you set about painstakingly scanning the dates and setting aside the ones from this week. Finally, with the papers in hand, you noticed the apparent lack of documentation. 

Skin assessments were called for on a regular basis, these sheets were completed days after his self-inflicted mutilation… Enraged would be an overly generous understatement you were infuriated, they marked the skin as “clear and intact.” Reading the signature it revealed, that not only did the wound care nurse sign off on the daily evaluations, but the doctor signed a witness statement as well for their weekly assessments. This was clear proof of neglect, as you have done your job with charting the injury on your end clearly showing the injury had transpired. It's a harsh reality but this kind of care, or lack thereof, is a continuous conflict in nursing.

The thought disgusts you, but, in the past, you have turned a blind eye. Should you report the wrong person, you could very well lose your job. Times like this you wished for a form of anonymity, but even that wouldn't make a dent in the corrupted system. Having said this you had roughly a 24-hour window to report this to the nursing administrator. In this case however the doctor that signed the paperwork is well respected, you had no choice but to tend to his wound yourself... 

Should you report this, you'd surely lose your job, maybe even your license as well? You'll have to wait till the next shift before you attempt to sneak into his cell, you were pulling a double anyway. With your lunch break now over you clocked back in and got to work.

As the evening shift ended, the night shift began, you watched the other aids and nurse's left to go home. The nurse you were working with tonight usually ran late, you were depending on it. A small window of opportunity opened up. Guards from this shift were still clocking in, you had a 20-minute window to get to his cell. Grabbing the supplies you had already laid out, you rushed out of the nursing station and down the hall. 

Steps echoed off the walls waking some of the patients, cries of sorrow grew numerous with every footfall. It pained you every time you walked these halls, this came with the job, but that didn't make it any easier. The corridor seemed to darken as you neared Myers door, even the fluorescent lights started to flicker. Stopping just outside his cell with your hand hovering over the handle, is this really okay? What if he attacked you, no one knew you were there, the guards couldn't protect you. 

No, you needed to do this, this was your responsibility, to care for the weak. But this man was anything but weak, you sigh, taking hold of the latch. The door made a loud groan as you unlocked it. You made up your mind and opened the door. Light from the hall poured into the dimly lit cell as you walked in and closed the door. 

Perched on a chair sat Michael Myers, hunched over his table working on yet another mask. You smiled a little while gazing at his decorated walls, all adorned with hand-crafted masks. Looking back over ar Myers you had to swallow your surprise. No longer was he busy working, he was now staring directly at you. Seeing how you now had his full attention you spoke. "I apologize for disrupting you from your work." 

He tilted his head to the side, his favorite orange mask concealing his expression. Nervously you cleared your throat. "I read the documentation, they didn't treat your wound, did they?" His eyes shifted to his right hand, before hiding it behind his back. Michael was acting like a child who got caught doing something they shouldn't have.

You sighed heavily. "Michael I'm not going to hurt you, I just really need to take care of that wound. I don't have a lot of time, I'm not even supposed to be here." Still seeming unsure he slowly presented his right hand never breaking eye contact. It was a little unnerving, but not wanting to back down, you cautiously approached. Gently grabbing his hand you turned it over to inspect the wound, it was clearly infected. 

Promptly you got to work dabbing the antiseptic wipe to the cut and generously applying antibiotic ointment. Then you carefully bandage his wrist, looking up you freeze. You and Michale were nose to nose, his breath fanning across your face, and blue eyes half-closed. Quicky you attempted to withdraw from the closeness but were swiftly pulled back into a crushing embrace. 

As he continued to tighten his hold you gasped for breath while clawing at his back, fingers digging into this shirt. He was suffocating you, it's now you realized what a mistake you made. Colorful spots clouded your vision before it could turn a blinding white, he relaxed his arms. With a sharp gasp, you greedily gulped for air, still clinging on to him with white knuckles. Michael held you close as he gently ran his long fingers through your hair. If he didn't just try to kill you, you'd almost call this comforting... 

This was a warning it was his way of letting you know he was in control, he had every power to kill you. Settling down you rested your head against his chest listening to the steady beat of his heart. Michale's heart rate was calm, not sporadic, this was the heart of a sociopath, a killer. This was a predator, one that can put on the charade of loving affection. But this was all a game and he used "love" as a manipulative tool to get what he wanted. Once he got what he wanted he'd grow bored and cast you aside like a discarded toy. But still... You loved him;

(A/N): Thankfully in today's nursing you can now make anonymous reports of abuse and neglect. Since the movie took place only a year after 1977 when the “Board of Nursing” was first established. There still wasn't a way of having complete anonymity until a few years after. I hope you all have enjoyed this two-part series I know I enjoyed writing it! Let me know what you thought!

#horror x reader #horror #slasher x reader #slasher #michael myers x reader #x reader #fanfiction #fanfic #michael myers