#so in some fairly big personal news: boyfriend accepted a new job! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

emojellyace08 · 11 months

Text

Shower sex ft.! Daniel Park (Lookism)

Genre: smut/lemon🍋 Slight warning: fingering, penetration, hand and blowjob, overstimulation, squirting!/cum shot!/unprotected sex! (mentions of slang terms of male and female genitalia). CHARACTERS ARE AGED UP! (reader is female). summary: You and Daniel moved in a new apartment. When you help fix the packages, your erotic image bending down while sweating turned him on. Since it's been a while since you've make out, an idea popped in his head to treat you in the bathroom. This post is edited.

You and Daniel's relationship have been doing well. Both of you get to know each other, you see each other at school, and both of you even have slumber parties and sleep overs at each others place. So what's wrong with getting an apartment with the both of you can live in?

Daniel was first against in this idea. It's not that he doesn't want to be with you and living under the same roof, in fact it will be much more easier since you can now spend time together without going in each other's place. Both of you can even have a date inside without loosing your budget on other public places and fast food. But he's worried that you'll "waste" your money on him again but you quickly reassured him that it will be okay since you have a part time job that pays you fairly as long you do a good work.

It's the day that both of you will be moving in. It makes him really nervous and excited at the same time since he won't be apart with you and he can spend with you more often even on weekends. It was 12 noon and he was already taping the boxes with his personal belongings until he heard a knock on his door. "Darling?" "Oh wait coming!" He was quick to open the door and he saw you with a gleeful smile on your face. You're wearing a plain f/c t-shirt with a f/c mini skirt and f/c converse. Despite the plain style that you were wearing, you still look really beautiful in his eyes (or whatever style you rock in).

"You ready?" you asked him and he replied with a nod. You requested if you can help him carry the boxes but he insists that he can do it by himself. He looks really different than how he looks like when you both first get to know each other (not that he's ugly as other people say). His work out turned out well and your glad that he's doing some process not only in his physical form but also in his mental state (he is used to not believe in himself).

After a few minutes, you both arrived at the location with Daniel. You both got out of the taxi with the driver helping to take the boxes inside the building. You and Daniel were chatting about random topics until you are approached by an old lady who asked if you are the new residents and you both quickly replied yes with respect. The old lady explained the rules in the building. She also praised Daniel's looks and how lucky of a girl you are to have a "good-looking boyfriend" which he quickly replied with a thank you while blushing rubbing his nape. Despite Daniel's physical change, he's still the same sweet and respectful boy you met at middle school. The old lady gave you the keys and you and your boyfriend went to your new apartment.

You unlocked the doorknob and opened the door, you and Daniel are both greeted by the warm and happy atmosphere. The place is clean and the furniture are organized and it has a really big space for the both of you. "Have you eaten lunch?" Daniel asked you. "Oh, I haven't I was preparing for the move y'know." you replied. " You wanna eat ramyeon I have in the package?" he replied which you gladly accepted and told him that both of you should eat first before you do some arranging your things so both of your empty stomachs wouldn't interrupt while working. You both removed your shoes and socks and placed it in the shoe rack before entering your new apartment.

While Daniel is preparing the food and utensils, you started working in placing the clothes in your shared bedroom. You insists to fix his luggage as well so he doesn't have to exhaust himself more later on which he hesitantly agreed to (he doesn't want you to be tired since you've been busy with other things but since you're too helpful and stubborn, he can't argue with you). A few minutes passed and your boyfriend called you in the kitchen, saying that lunch is ready. You fixed yourself in the mirror and went in the dining area with the ramyeon already prepared in the table with chopsticks. You sat in front of the raven-haired boy who's waiting for you to eat with him. You both prayed and thanked for the meal. While eating, you hesitantly asked him about his business with the Workers. He told you that things are not going so well since his second body got kidnapped. He's just happened to be lucky that Sophia help him loose weight and Gun trained him to be more stronger in combat. You're pretty sure that he's mentally drained from this gang shit and you comforted him that everything will be okay. Though things will turn out the worst in his mind, your comfort is enough for him to calm himself down. He's feeling really lucky for him to have you as a partner. You're always there for him when things go upside down, he's also worried that because of his involvement with these gangs, he might accidentally put you in danger or his enemies might view you as a perfect target for their advantage and hurt you with no mercy (luckily you can defend your self but it still worries him a lot). But it's his time to relax for a while and spend some time with you before going back to business. You apologized for bringing up the topic but he reassured you that it's alright for you to asking. He felt that he has to voice out his concerns after all or else if he keep his stress and problems more it will probably make him insane from all this misery. You tried to talk about other topics to ease up the tension in the atmosphere and cheer Daniel up which gladly worked.

After finishing your ramyeon and cleaning the dishes with Daniel, both of you started to unpack the boxes to arrange your packages with Daniel insists in managing and taking care of your heavier belongings. You're fixing the living room with arranging the couch pillows and him fixing the kitchen utensils and the heavy pots. "Love where can I-" he was about to ask you for help when he notices you bending over the shelf putting the CD's in order. Because your skirt is a bit too short he can see a bit of your skin underneath the fabric, your f/c panties peeking through and your ass slightly being exposed. Because of the hard work that you're putting in making the discs arranged in the shelf, you started to sweat which makes your innocent action and posture feels and look erotic and sexy for him. You turned to look at him since he cut off his question and asked him if he needs help. Still looking in your ass, he quickly stared back at your face painted with a cute and confused emotion. "Oh-Uh- Nothing! I already got this sorry!" he quickly replied before going back on what he's doing, which leaves you confused but you immediately just brushed it off. He can feel his cheeks burn up, probably dusting his cheeks with a light pink color which he hopes you won't notice. He felt like a pervert peeking through your skirt. I mean can he blame himself though? If you keep bending like that and exposing your ass and cunt even if it's unintentional, he's sure that he'll get a hard on.

Hours passed by of arranging and a bit of tidying the place and you're feeling lucky that you have the courage to finish through the day of fixing the apartment that you now call home. Without the help of your sweet boyfriend, it may be impossible to finish this quicker. You lied down the couch, tired and sweating. Daniel sat on the couch with you feeling the same, weariness. "Woah. That's lots of work today." he exclaimed. "Yeah. Thanks to you we get to finish setting up earlier." you thanked him feeling your body and mind getting drained. "Couldn't done it without you too." "Damn, you're too cheesy." he laughed at your response and you did the same, at least you can see him smiling and laughing now. You remained laying down with Daniel stroking your hair for a few minutes and chatting about high school and funny moments like when Vasco accidentally spilled his choco-banana milk on Zack. You also talked about animals and other things, making you and Danny feel relaxed. You remained talking to him while both slumped on the fluffy mattress until you slowly got up from the couch, feeling that you regained your energy back to wash yourself up. "I'm going to shower now Danny. You can wait for me in the bedroom and get some rest." You told him and oh, when you said about you going for a bath, that perverted image of you flashed back in his mind making him feel hot and bothered. While he's also feeling sticky because of his sweat too, an idea popped in his mind and he wants to grab the opportunity to take a shower with you but he's hesitant. He's scared that you would turn off his request and feel weirded out of him. You and him definitely have make out before. From sweet, innocent, wet pecks on the face and lips to hands slipping under each other's clothes with teasing touches and your tongues slipping inside each other's mouth before breaking the kiss with a blushing and heated face. But we all know that he's a virgin and unexperienced. You are his first girlfriend and both of you haven't go through in that line where sex is involved in your relationship yet. He only watches porn and read erotic manhwa when he's horny, obviously him being too shy to ask some help from you when it comes to things like this. But since you and him are living together on the same roof now, there's definitely a possibility that you and him are just going to fuck in the same bed in a random day.

"Wait!" he stopped you from leaving, his hand holding your arm with a gentle grip which makes you confused. "Um, w-would you mind..." he cut off his sentence, a bit hesitant and scared to complete it which leaves you puzzled. "Daniel?" "I-uh, would you mind me taking a shower with you?" he asked and gulped harshly while avoiding eye contact with you. Not going to lie, you were shocked by this coming from Daniel himself. But you can't resist since he's your boyfriend. He's usually shy when it comes to topics like this but he also got that charm and that rough side that's just hiding underneath that innocent and shy personality, you know it. And while there are times that you can't see each other, you're fighting yourself to not masturbate and think about him but you still ending up losing from the feeling of emptiness anyway. Slightly processing on what he said, his statement broke down on your thoughts before thinking deep about it and responding to him. "Oh. I-I don't mind." you replied back while blushing, him returning your reaction with a slightly shocked and flustered face. He wouldn't expect you to accept his offer that fast.

"You sure it's okay for you? You don't have to-"

"It's okay really, I don't mind it."

There was a few moments of awkward silence surrounding the atmosphere before Daniel stood up and pulled you gently for a kiss since he can't control his self any longer. You're surprised by his action but with the lust and heat consuming you, you didn't hesitate to kiss him back. You both make out and while enjoying the kiss, he pinned you in the wall gently, his right hand supporting your head and the other one guiding and holding your waist strongly but still gentle that is probably going to leave hand marks on your waist considering of how strong he have gotten. He started biting your bottom lip, him asking permission to French kiss you. Getting turned on by this, your playful side started to show so you teased him by closing your mouth more. Him being slightly frustrated, you can feel him making a cocky smirk against your soft lip before his left hand slowly crawled in your chest and squeezing your breast. You got surprised by this and he took this opportunity to slip his tongue inside your mouth leaving you whimpering and moaning. His wet muscle danced against yours and since he's much powerful than you, his tongue dominated yours. Daniel's free hand slowly crawled down to cup your now damp underwear underneath your skirt leaving you moaning and yearning for more and submitting to him, making you buck your hips for more friction. As both of started to loose breath, he broke the kiss leaving a string of saliva connected from both of your pink and warm tongues.

"We should continue this in the bathroom shall we?" Daniel asked you in a raspy and low voice, still rubbing your clothed core which makes your whine as you feel your underwear getting wetter than before. You are about to respond to him when he picked you in bridal style and took you to the bathroom. He opened the door, him still carrying you and opened the light switch. There is a separated shower and bathtub with the other necessities that you both needed. He brings you down and pulled you for another hungry kiss and you're both now making out in the sink. He slowly made it down your neck. Making wet, damp kisses finding your sweet spot which makes you arch your back and making you moan his name. This reaction of yours make his cock twitch and grow underneath his pants, but he knows that he needs to take his time with you. While he continues leaving sweet pecks and soft smooches on your skin, your hands traveled and explored his body eager to take his clothes off. Your right arm wrapping along his neck and the other touched his chest and torso. His once chubby body that's so comfortable and fun to cuddle with is now muscular as you traced circles in his stomach leaving a ticklish yet gentle sensation on his skin, him getting encourage to find that spot. Wet kisses were left on your soft skin like an animal marking it's territory as Daniel soon finds that sensitive region of your part that he's looking for making you gasp and moan his name. He sucked your neck a bit too much that it stings a bit but you couldn't care less, causing it to draw blood on the surface of your skin leaving a mark with a hue of purple and red color.

"Danny, Please..." "Please what love?" "Need you so much..." you mewled against his neck, feeling your warm breath that tickles him. He leisurely made his hands to your waist to undress you before stopping through to ask permission to do his work.

"Can I take your clothes off?"

"Yeah."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Please."

Daniel processed your pleas before pulling down your tight, little skirt revealing your panties forming a wet patch. Daniel smirked, feeling absolutely amused that he managed to make you wet just by kissing you while you feel embarrassed from the drooling mess your cunt is making. "Can I touch you?" "Yes please." you begged with a hint of desperation on your voice before feeling his warm fingers slip underneath your lingerie and slowly make direct contact with your vulva making you released a lewd moan making his dick grew bigger, his huge member now poking through his pants. He then smeared your sticky and warm juices on your clit using his thumb making you gasp at the contact of your sensitive pearl while his two fingers teased your entrance by rubbing your labia more. "Fuck it darling, you're so wet for me." he remarked as his thumb played with your clit, rubbing and making circles and repeating the same motion over and over again in a slightly fast pace and deep pressure which your hips and legs reacted shaking. Despite the friction and pleasure you are receiving, you were still getting impatient wanting his fingers inside you. You bucked your hips against his now hot body and begged for more. "Danny, more..." "This doesn't satisfies you enough?" he asked you curiously. You protested that it's not that it doesn't feel good but you want him inside your throbbing hole, you begging like a little bitch. Him not wanting to tease you, he obliged as he gently entered his middle finger making contact with your warm and tight walls making you gulp at the contact. Dipping his finger in your wet insides, he pushes it more inside your vagina trying to find your g-spot, putting it in quickly just to pull it out again repeating the motion that makes your walls clench on to him more. As he entered his knuckle inside you, he touched that rough, spongy spot making you release another loud moan as he continued to poke it leave you really satisfied.

"Ooh! Fuuuck!" you yelped as he pumped his finger quickly and repeating that motion on your now swollen clit before sliding another finger inside, his body now on autopilot getting more excited. You were left panting and screaming in pleasure just by his hands, what more when he pushes his length inside your pretty cunt?

"Fuuuck Daniel! Gonna cum!" you struggled to find your words because of the unexplainable feeling you're experiencing right now. "Let go of it." he grunted as he tried to move his fingers on a rapid pace. Him continuing this lewd movements on your body, you started to feel that familiar ball of warmth forming on your stomach until you can't hold it back anymore as your ropes loosened and he made you squirt, him feeling your walls tighten more as you release your juices and staining your underwear and coating his hands with your cum. He continued to finger you as you ride your high until he pulled it out and showing you his now glossy fingers and sucking his coated hands, tasting you making you blush and crave for more as he feels the same. His mouth released a popping sound before asking you to suck his fingers. "Suck it. C'mon be a good girl for me". Not wanting to disappoint him, you returned the favor and obeyed him. Sucking his fingers, you tasted your juices as he shoves his digits deeper in your throat. You later pulled it out leaving a mixture of each other's saliva and your own liquids before you gave him a kiss again, this time unzipping his pants as it falls on the ground. Him moaning, you stroked his member beneath his boxers that also started forming a wet patch on the tip of his clothed cock. You and Daniel spend time undressing each other and touching each other before stepping inside the shower.

Being fully naked, he turned on the shower knob letting the water make contact with each other's skin. You both take your time washing each other up, his hands holding and cupping your cheeks and you wrapping your hands around him before pulling each other for another make-out session. Your delicate hands crawling down to his torso down to his groin until you reached his member, gripping it a little tight and stroking it making him grunt between the kiss. "Y/N..." Daniel whined, your hands keeping the sensual pace so he wouldn't come yet. You broke the kiss, staring at Daniel's eyes that are filled with lust and admiration before you bend down to your knees finally making close contact with his erect dick. You stroked his shaft faster. From the change of the speed of your hand, he can't help but to shut his eyes and make smutty noises as he tries biting his lower lip but the pleasure is just too much. His whines and grunts may not be the manliest, but you're glad he's enjoying the handjob that you're giving him. The more he releases a moan, the more your movements get faster in playing with him. Feeling your cunt getting drenched by your liquids while still pumping his cock, you didn't hesitate to give some kitty licks on his now pinkish tip and tasting the building pre-cum. "Hah~..." he mewled while feeling your warm tongue tickle his growing member. You started to suck the red tip before gently pushing and bobbing your head up and down to take more of him while touching and stroking the base faster. You continued to feast on Daniel until he can feel his orgasm building up quickly, gripping on your hair for support and you moaning sending more vibration on his dick as he feels his release coming soon. "Oh God, Y/N!" he called for your name before you can feel the ropes of his warm, sweet semen shot the back of your throat making you swallow all of it. You pulled him out of your mouth, showing him that you swallowed all of it making him even greedier.

"Come here." he demanded and you got up before being pulled for another kiss but this time being more gentle, tasting himself inside your mouth. He touched you down in your core again as you unintentionally slip another moan. Pulling away, Danny's eyes stared back at yours filled with desperation and neediness as you also can't wait for it to happen. "Can I put it in?" he asked with a pleasant voice while gently rubbing your lip with his other hand cupping your face. "Yeah. Just be gentle". you told him with a delightful smile on your lips.

"Wait,"

"Why darling? Do you want to stop?"

"I-It's not that I want to stop. But I-, I don't have any condom."

Thick silence filled the room before reassuring him that it's okay if he doesn't have any. You advised him just to pull out if he feels that he's going to release since you're not in any contraceptives. He swallowed harshly feeling nervous and praying he won't orgasm inside you though he finds it hot if he cums inside, the sight of your pussy dripping with your liquids mixed with his semen really motivates him to keep fucking you.

He wanted to ask if it's your first time but he hesitates. He knows you have exes but you never opened up about your sex life to him (neither he since he's embarrassed to say he's a virgin). But he doesn't really care if you had a fling with other people before, what matters is that you're his now and he'll be the only one who'll make you feel more amazing than the others even if he's not your first.

You positioned yourself all fours, your hands and breasts pressed against the cold wall and spreading your legs, exposing your two holes coated with pre-cum forming on your core and from before. His dick rose up again from the beautiful view ready to be pleased again. He stroked the base, preparing his self before entering you. Knowing what's about to happen, Daniel lets out a shaky and nervous sigh and he gently pushed his tip on your soaked entrance. You softly let out a high pitched sound as you feel your wet and warm walls welcome his long cock as he pushed more into you until he's fully inside you.

"Are you okay?" he asked in a worried tone, seeing your face that slightly faces him scrunch a bit from his thickness. "Y-Yeah-I, j-just keep going." you closed your eyes as he fills your tight pussy, him waiting for you to adjust on his size. You haven't have any hook ups since you started dating Daniel since you don't want to cheat on him and stay faithful. So you don't really know if it's the fact that he's just too big than your ex's who took your virginity or if it's just because it's been a long time since you fucked with someone.

Minutes passed and you told him that he can move now, "Please be slow." you requested "I will honey." he replied kissing your plump cheeks before gently moving in and out of you. Despite his thrust being soft, you can't help but to moan deliciously. He was worried that he's being too harsh but your comfort and reassurance encourages him to keep going. As you started releasing muffled moans, Daniel started to pick up the speed. His thrusts were not too fast or slow, but his tip keeps hitting that special spot deep inside making you call out his name and crave for more.

"F-fuck! Danny Mhmm!" You called his name as he felt your insides clenching tighter on him, not wanting him to stop or leave. "Y-Y/N y-you're so tight." He replied back as he tries to speak, he can feel himself sinking into the warm and pleasurable feeling, he doesn't know if it's because of the warm water that runs through his skin or if it's because of your cunt squeezing him like it's hugging his cock. He tries to hold back and take his time not wanting to hurt you before his thrusts became faster, both of you moaning each others name as his tip kisses your g-spot repeatedly and his balls clapping and making contact with your clit which makes you more satisfied and sensitive. You almost lost your balance from the wall but luckily Daniel's hands guided your waist and pushing his cock deeper on you.

"Oooh shit.... Fuuuck Danny!" you screamed as his cock now hit your cervix. Fuck, you really thought that he's buried inside you so much. Your eyes started to water and tears roll down on your face as he lifts your one leg to insert his dick inside of you more, causing your eyes to roll back at the back of your head from the feeling of his hard member fucking your stiff cunt. Your left hand makes its way on your clit, rubbing your sensitive part harshly as you tried to reach for your orgasm. Daniel took notice of this and he leaned on your shoulder, sucking on your neck again and leaving more hickies as his free hand made contact with yours that played with your pearl, him signing to touch and please you more. You gladly removed your hand and positioned it back on the wall to keep your balance as Daniel stroked and played with you while fucking your hole at the same time, his pelvis slapping on your ass making more clapping noises as the warm water runs on your bodies creating more audible noise that can be probably heard outside the apartment.

"D-Darling! I'm so close!" you whined as you feel another orgasm chasing you. Daniel being desperate to make you cum and pleasure himself at the same time, his thrusts turned faster as he buried himself into you deeply. Your vocal chords are now sore not only for giving him a blowjob but also him making you moan so loud that the neighbors next door can probably hear you fucking now on the first day that you moved in here. You covered your mouth to reduce some of your lewd noises since you don't want to get kicked out. But no matter how hard you try, the feeling of content that you're experiencing was too much to handle. After Daniel thrusting into you a few more times, you felt yourself let go of your second orgasm, coating him with your juices and making your insides feel more slippery.

While you rode your high, you can feel Daniel's breathing getting heavier as his lips parted not being able to control his self from getting faster and from making more auditable noise, grunting on your ear and his beautiful voice is enough to make you wet and damp again. "Y-Y/N if you keep squeezing... m-me like this..." he warned, signaling that he's close to coming making you shocked, you're worried that he'll accidentally release inside your womb. "D-Danny pull it out!" you panicked as you yelped and his arms grip tighter on your body for support and ram deep inside you with an insane speed while you can feel yourself being overstimulated already. "F-Fuck w-wait- Ah!" he whined on your earlobe and he quickly pulled out just in time before releasing on your now abused pussy pumping the base and riding his high releasing more of his warm semen coating and staining your body.

Daniel continued cumming with his head still buried on the crook of your neck before gently letting go of your leg while you can feel his cock poking your ass, probably still rock-hard and up for another try. You and him were catching your breath and taking your time to ease up. While Daniel was processing on what happened today while still leaning on your shoulder filled with love bites that he made and hugging you from behind. He just lost his virginity to you, the love of his life.

"You okay love?" he asked you while still staring at your vulva filled with his cum and yours dripping out of your hole. "Yea-Yeah. That was amazing". you stuttered while slowly facing him and giving him a peck on the lips and him returning the sweet gesture with a smile forming on his lips. Daniel was proud of himself that you enjoyed yourself in his company, sexually or not. He really has high hopes on planning a bigger future with you. For now, all he needs is to relax his self and keeping you safe with his presence. "Let's get you cleaned up." he grabbed the opened shower, pouring warm water on your bodies cleaning each other's bodies as Daniel makes sure to touch you gently and softly, making you feel cozy and feel like in home.

Who knows, you and him will probably have a round two but this time on the bed.

A/N: FUCK THIS IS SO CRINGEY THIS IS MY FIRST TIME WRITING SMUT AHHAHAHA LMAO BYE IMMA GO READ THE BIBLE

#daniel park x reader #daniel park smut #lookism x reader #manhwa smut #lookism smut

183 notes · View notes

theeliampayne · 1 year

Text

After Zayn bought a new house, all he wanted to do was enjoy the peace. It was a small house, just big enough for him and maybe one other person. It was fairly cheap, as well, but it had needed a lot of fixing. With fading paint, broken windows, and a partially flooded basement, the house had been a complete mess. So when his neighbor came over to help, Zayn couldn’t help but accept the offer.

The guy was hot as fuck, anyway.

Zayn learned a lot about the guy when he was over at the house. He was definitely boyfriend material - humble, helpful, and ridiculously sweet. Overall just pleasant to be around. Part of him wished his house still needed fixing so he would have an excuse to invite him over.

So when Liam came over, a house plant and basket of muffins in his arms, Zayn was more than thrilled.

Zayn opened the door, revealing his neighbor standing there with a sheepish smile. “Sorry to bother, Zayn,” he started. “I just wanted to give you a welcome gift, to, y’know.. welcome you.. Sorry, this is a bit awkward.”

Zayn chuckled, “It’s alright, Liam. Come on inside. You can see the finished work.”

Liam wiped his shoes on the mat outside the door before stepping inside, looking around the house in awe. It had changed a lot since he came the last time, now with furniture, decorations, and cleaned rooms.

“So? What do you think?”

“Zayn, this looks incredible. You did an amazing job with this,” Liam looked over at Zayn with an adoring look. He carefully set the basket and plants on the dining room table, keeping the muffins closer to the middle.

“I’m not the one to be credited for this, Liam,” Zayn insisted. “You did nearly all the work. I just cleaned a bit and got some guys to put furniture in here.”

“It’s still impressive. I can’t believe it looks like this now.”

“So, did you want to talk about anything, Liam?” Zayn asked, smiling at the small pout on the boy’s face.

“Not really. Just kind of wanted to welcome you after the house was finished,” Liam shrugged. “Might have wanted to see you again,” he mumbled, gaze momentarily dropped to the floor.

“What’s that, Liam? Couldn’t hear you,” Zayn smirked. As nice as Liam was, it was fun to get him all flustered. He was absolutely adorable, and it was just enjoyable seeing him like this. And Zayn might have been a bit of a bitch.

“Nevermind,” Liam shook his head, looking at anything but Zayn.

“Fine, but if you want to see me again, I’ll take your number.”

“What?” Liam looked at Zayn with wide eyes, seemingly caught completely off guard by the statement.

“Your phone number. May I have it?” Zayn spoke slowly, teasingly.

“Uhm, yeah. Yeah,” Liam nodded, quickly taking his phone out of his pocket. “Here.”

Zayn typed his phone number into the phone, giving Liam his to do the same.

“Call me whenever, Liam. I’m free.”

“Yeah,” Liam pocketed his phone. “I might just do that.”

#not sure what i think about this one #ziam drabble

1 note · View note

1kook · 4 years

Text

kissanime & foreplay

this is part of my netflix & chill collection !

summary; You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans. warnings; mentions of hentai yes u read right, kook leads most of it, cunnilingus, masturbation (f), oral (f), use of a sex toy, fingering, nipple play, face sitting/fucking/riding idk (f), praise kink, hints of dumbification, cum eating, jk is like passive aggressive in this one, 4 (f) orgasms, this is the kicker: sub kook at the end😳, like 2 sec of dom yn lol, & u get 0.002 sec of adams apple kink misc; more dumb story lines, made up sex stores bc my creativity knows no bounds, Jungkook plays nice but is actually mean for the majority of it, once again doyeon plays a pivotal role in the furthering of women empowerment, internal love monologues about jk best boy<3 wc; 8.2k

notes; back when kissanime was offed I remember looking at this fic in the drafts like what the hell we gone do now.. n almost deleting it but I was like yknow what this isn’t a 1kook fic unless there’s smthn weird going on so here we are. also yes I know ohshc is on Netflix shut up!!!!!

HAPPY BDAY MY LOVE AND MUSE JEON JUNGKOOK !!!! 🥺💜

—

The good thing about getting your own apartment is that you finally have a place to call your own. There’s no limit on how many potted plants you can squeeze into a one bedroom, one bathroom apartment, and if there was one, you’re twelve in and no one has said anything to you yet. You don’t have to share the shower space with anyone, label all your products with a hastily scribbled name. There’s a bathtub—something you haven’t had the pleasure of using during college—and a fairly open living space. There’s so many empty spots to fill with useless decorations and family heirlooms and that ugly plastic rooster Jungkook won you at the summer kick-off fair last month.

The bad thing about having your own place is that the entire world and their mothers seem to know now. Despite graduating from college, you still keep in touch with your trusted graduate mentor Kim Namjoon, who is still very much in school, and has made it his mission to bring you a new plant every week, hence your growing collection. Your childhood friend comes over every Saturday morning to lounge around after her Friday nights out. Jungkook, although the only one who is ever actually invited, runs through your strawberry scented body wash like a madman.

And of course, Doyeon.

Your beloved college roommate of four years, Kim Doyeon, has been the bane of your apartment experience so far. Unlike you, who had slaved away for four years, saving every penny you made during college for this moment, Doyeon was a big spender. She blew every dollar she ever came across, which is why she’s going to be stuck living at her parent’s house for at least a couple more years.

Nothing wrong with that, of course, if she wasn’t the most maniac online shopper in existence. It hadn’t been a problem in college because she was always good old pals with the students who worked the mailroom. If they saw something questionable, they’d let it slide as long as it was under Miss Kim Doyeon, Room 229.

The reason it became an issue for her now is because it’s poor Mrs. Kim who signs over the package from Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! one Tuesday afternoon as it is delivered to their suburban home.

So now she’s taken to ordering all her freaky stuff to your new apartment, where the small cabinet by the door has quickly become home to her impulsive shopping habits. Truthfully, you don’t mind accepting Doyeon’s weird packages, and have long since grown used to the uncomfortable looks the mail carrier gives you.

Jungkook’s supposed to come over today and you really hope he doesn’t ask about the state of your hall cabinet. Now that you work at a small company outside of your degree to make ends meet, time with Jungkook has been significantly decreased. You weren’t in college anymore, so you didn’t have the luxury of dropping by his house whenever you wanted to in between classes. Of course, it’s mostly your schedule that conflicts with your planned hangouts, because Jungkook is still working his dream job from home.

However, because Jungkook is quite possibly the most amazing person on this planet, he’s started coming over every Saturday night to make sure you’re still alive and not dying. And so weekly media binges are a thing, and it’s currently week four.

He gave up on showing you the Marvel movie franchise last week, after you had asked where Wonder Woman was three times in a row. Since the Barbie Movie Debacle of last month, you’ve found a nice medium between who picks when. Jungkook picks most of the time, because most of the time you don’t really care. It’s become a running joke between the two of you that movie binges are usually just terribly masked excuses to go to town on each other, so you don’t mind missing an entire 15th Century French Revolution documentary if it means Jungkook is deep in your guts by the time King Louis XIV gets beheaded or whatever they did to him. Is it too obvious you didn’t watch the documentary?

Occasionally, there are instances where one of you genuinely does want to watch something, in which case you have an intense match of rock-paper-scissors to decide who’s picking that night. Most of the time, Jungkook wins. But for every match Jungkook wins, he promises you’ll pick the next one so you’ve long since stopped trying to actually beat him.

Long story short, last weekend you sat through a two part Ancient Aliens episode on the connection between aliens and American presidents.

It was the most god-awful conspiracy theory you’ve ever heard of, but Jungkook ate up every minute of it. By the time the two hosts announced their conclusion you were just about ready to rip your own ears off and single-handedly fist fight every producer on the channel for allowing the production of such an atrocious show.

Anyway, because you had so bravely sat through the entire evening without complaints— well, no complaints towards Jungkook’s terrible taste; the show, however, was not safe from your wicked tongue —Jungkook has so graciously allowed you to pick the media for this weekend.

You’ve been telling him for the longest time that you were going to hook him on anime. It was one of the few interests you always believed Jungkook should possess, being a weeb and all, because it was only fair that he had one questionable trait to balance out the rest of his perfection. Liking anime isn’t bad— if a hottie like you enjoyed it, then it obviously had its perks. However, you know a lot of other people are turned off by anime-enthusiasts due to preconceived notions of the genre and the viewer-base.

Now, it was a widely known fact that you always had ulterior motives. So maybe turning Jungkook into a weeb was just a ploy to turn other women off from him and keep your jealousy at bay. Sue you, your boyfriend was a walking wet dream, and you’d do anything to keep him to yourself.

After long deliberation, you’ve decided on introducing Jungkook to anime with a classic: Ouran High School Host Club, a god among anime, a true Beyonce among shoujos. The only problem was that you absolutely refused to pay Crunchyroll or Funimation when you could so easily find the entire show on KissAnime.com, home to only the finest of hentai ads and Are You a Robot? questions.

He sends you a text when he’s outside your building, and five minutes later there’s a rap against your door.

“Hi,” you smile up at him, heart fluttering in that same trademark way it did whenever Jungkook was within a five foot radius. He smiles back softly, leaning down to peck your lips as you step aside for him to enter. He’s got on those cotton sweats that you love, the ones that send your brain into a censored frenzy. But he’s also got that soft curl to his hair that lets you know he came here straight out of the shower in his hurry to see you. How you managed to bag a dream boyfriend like him was beyond you.

You bask in the overwhelming feeling of unannounced love for all of ten seconds before Jungkook is lifting up a square package you hadn’t seen at his hip. “Mailman gave me this,” he says, waving around the signature bright pink packaging of Sexuality Unleashed. Jungkook, for all his politeness and respect, seemed to falter in those categories when it came to you. He turns the box over, reading the big fat name of the company on the side. “Since when did you start buying sex toys?” he asks rather loudly in the hallway.

You yank him inside, hurriedly slamming the door shut before any of your neighbors can come out into the hallway and get a peek of this avid sex toy consumer. “They’re not mine!” you hiss, standing still when he uses you to balance himself as he tugs off his shoes. You snatch the box out of his hands, turning it around to make sure it is actually addressed to your home. Sure enough, it’s for you. Couldn’t there have been some other sex toy fanatic on this floor?

With his shoes off, Jungkook wastes no time enveloping you in a hug, the Sexuality Unleashed box tumbling to the ground. “It’s okay, baby, no need to be embarrassed.”

You groan, leaning your forehead against his shoulder as he continues to pat your back like you’re actually embarrassed to be caught buying toys— you’re not. You’re embarrassed he caught you with a sex toy you simply can’t put to use. “Whatever,” you sigh, “your gross popcorn is in my bedroom and it’s probably stale.”

He releases you, not before pulling you into a slow and languid kiss that has you clutching tightly at the front of his shirt. He pulls away with a soft smooch, right eye falling into a wink. “Bring the box, gorgeous,” he teases, before sauntering off in the direction of your bedroom.

You groan loudly. “It’s not mine!” you repeat, but for some reason do as he says.

Not only do you have no idea what’s in this package, but you’re frankly not too keen on finding out. You’re more interested in Jungkook’s reaction to one of your favorite animes of all time. The package is tossed onto the end of the bed, where Jungkook has already stripped himself of his socks and cuddled beneath your covers.

Your laptop has gone dark from inactivity so you slam down on the space bar to bring it back to life. Your first mistake was pressing anything at all. It flickers back on alright, but you forget that you are working with a minefield of ads ready to explode. You get a glimpse of the KissAnime screen for a good two seconds before about seven ads pop up. Another tab to a raunchy hentai website opens, and Jungkook groans.

“What the hell is this?” he asks in a tone that screams he has never had to fight viruses off his computer just to watch something at two in the morning.

You ignore him, cuddling into his side as you hurriedly type in the title of the anime before another annoying ad can intercept you. “KissAnime,” you answer for now, accidentally clicking down on the mousepad with the heel of your palm. Another tab opens up to some sketchy credit site. You huff.

“Baby, I swear I just saw like twelve viruses,” he says. “And what even are these?” he scoffs, jabbing a finger at one of the many ads that lines the perimeter of the website. “Animated teacher porn?”

By the grace of god, you somehow manage to get onto the episode selection screen without having another tab open on you. You smile in relief, turning the power of your excitement onto Jungkook… only to find his eyes narrowed in on the square advertisement for some hentai website. “What? You wanna watch hentai now?” you snort, placing the laptop on his legs as you cuddle into his side.

Jungkook sputters, cheeks tinting red at the mere insinuation he would ever consume such media. “No,” he glares, releasing the arm around your shoulders to huffily cross them over his chest. “I am not going to watch anatomically incorrect illustrations of a woman teacher relieving herself, ___,” he says rather matter-of-factly.

You snort, repeating, “a woman teacher,” mockingly and in a high pitched voice that, honestly, doesn't sound anything like him. You click play on the video box that appears after only about twenty more pop-up ads. “Silence, you nymphomaniac, the episode is starting.” Jungkook pulls you close with a displeased expression, finally quieting down when you put it on full screen and the ads disappear from his view.

You’re beginning to wonder if Jungkook really is the script and plot dissector he claims to be, or if he just lives to get under your skin. He doesn’t make it three minutes without finding something to critique. First it’s the quality of the frames, and then it’s the characterization of the lead character. He nitpicks everything about the best anime in existence, and by the end of the first episode you’re considering breaking up with him.

“Oh my god,” you groan, tearing yourself away from him. He’s all laid up against your mountain of pillows, tongue prodding at the insides of his mouth in that ridiculously attractive habit of his. Usually, you’d be tripping over yourself to kiss him, but you’re about two seconds from ripping his head off. “I mean this in the nicest way possible, baby,” you sigh, picking up his hand in yours. “You gotta shut up.”

Jungkook rolls his eyes. “I have to shut up?” he asks in a scandalized tone. “You sang through the entire intro, off tune may I add.”

At this rate you’re getting nowhere, so you just snatch the laptop back up before you actually hurt his feelings. You escape the full screen, met with those hentai ads that are slowly becoming the bane of Jungkook’s existence.

“Who actually watches those anyway?” he mumbles, covering the sidebar full of naked cartoon ladies with his palm for you, a real gentleman if you ever saw one. “Really?” he says, knocking his pointer finger against a particularly raunchy ad with the caption Be a Good Boy and Let her Play beneath it.

You snort. “You are such a baby,” you tease, pinching his cheek much to his annoyance. “What? Can’t handle seeing some anime titties?”

Jungkook shoves your hand away, leaning back to become one with the pillows as you continue onto the next episode. “They’re just weird,” he admits. “And make unrealistic faces.”

“Unrealistic,” you repeat, finally giving one of the ads the time of day. There’s an adorably drawn character making the most perverted expression, knees hiked up to her chest. Her face is twisted up, drooling like a dog and with her eyes crossed in ecstasy. You shrug. “Just because you can’t get those faces out of me doesn’t mean they’re unreal.”

The second the words leave your mouth Jungkook is letting out a scandalized scoff, sitting up to level you with another glare. “First of all, I can get you like that,” he defends, tapping his finger against the ad on screen. “In fact, I can get you like that without even trying, so let’s not say anything too drastic now, okay?”

His sudden bout of defensiveness makes something playful in you switch on, laying back down beside him with a smirk. “Oh, you can make me all stupid like this?”

Jungkook scoffs. “Yes.”

“Uh huh,” you drawl, tracing a finger up his chest teasingly; Jungkook knocks your knuckles away, obviously still butt hurt about your comment. That’s fine, because a slightly riled up Jungkook was always the best Jungkook. You sit up and lean in close, letting your hand slip beneath his hoodie, palm running over his bare shoulder and around the top of his back. You give his nape a light squeeze, lips pressed against the shell of his ear. “Why don’t you prove it to me, Jungkookie?” you purr, before pulling away.

His jaw twitches at the nickname, one shapely brow unconsciously arching as he regards you with a calculative expression.

The thing about Jungkook was that, after almost a year of dating, you know just how to push his buttons. He has a rather calm and collected exterior to him, the same one he’s had since the day you met him, but beneath it all was a childish competitiveness that raged with the heat of ten suns. He disliked being taunted like you were doing now, especially when his credibility was at stake.

Honestly speaking, you don’t doubt Jungkook can make you look as goofy and messy as those hentai ads. In fact you’re rather confident he can. Either way, him being right or you being right, you would still get some fun out of it.

“Hm?” you add, tracing your hand up to dance over the skin of his cheek, pads of your fingers running over that stiff jaw. “Are you scared I’m right and you’re wrong?”

A hand snaps up to catch your wrist, fingers tight around your skin until you’re shivering against him. “Oh baby, I can make you cum until you cry,” he murmurs, his usual sweet and lilting tone dropping to a low vibration that makes your pussy throb beneath your panties. Your heart leaps in your chest, lips falling open when he ducks down to brush them against yours. It’s too light, just a simple touch that makes you follow his mouth when he pulls back.

With one firm shove, the laptop is tumbling off the bed, thudding loudly against your bedside rug. Jungkook leans over you, his usual trademark doe eyes zeroed in on you with the focus of a laser. “Have a little faith in me,” he teases, and when he presses close you can feel his fattening cock flush against your thigh. Your body is begging to be touched, every brush of his fingers against your skin searing trails in their wake.

Suddenly, he’s drawing back. “Kook?” you frown, barely biting down on a childish whimper when he snuggles back into your mountain of pillows, one arm stretched behind his head.

He flashes you a smile. “Go on,” he says, arms behind his head. “Show me how to get you like that.”

“By myself?” you ask, shifting onto your knees anyway. Jungkook nods, a soft jut of his chin as he gives you another one of those easy going smiles of his. His goal seems a little unclear, but you had a ridiculous amount of trust in your boyfriend that whatever he had planned was certain to be good. With one final skeptical glance his way, you sink down onto your bum, knees spreading and giving him a clear view of your little pink boy shorts, elastic band hugging your waist.

The material of your t-shirt is guided away, held to your chest by the hand currently not traversing the length of your stomach, gliding across soft skin, over your belly button and past that band until it slips beneath. You chance another look Jungkook’s way, only to find his eyes wonderfully downcast in the direction of your core. That smile is gone now, replaced with a somber look as he watches your hand move mysteriously beneath the fabric of your undergarments.

The first brush of your forefinger against your swollen button makes you twitch, back arching at the sensation that is magnified by his watchful gaze. “Mmh,” you bite down, hand twisting in the material of your shirt. Jungkook’s eyes glare a molten path across your skin, from the comfy bra that peeks out from beneath your rumpled shirt to the wrist slowly working beneath your panties.

A hand falls over your thigh, tattooed fingers giving the skin a light squeeze as you get to work swirling your bud around. The sight of his inked skin on yours makes something warm blossom in your lower abdomen, your eyes following the inky swirls up, up, up. They lead you to the face of your very handsome boyfriend, long lashes fanning across his cheekbones as he watches you play with yourself. “Wanna take these off for me?” he says, the tip of his pointer finger wiggling beneath the fabric of your shorts.

You nod hurriedly, wiggling around on the bed until you’re on your back, legs bent in front of you. The shorts come down your legs; the simplest press of your thighs makes something quiver in your abdomen. You toss them off to the side, and just as you go to sit back up, Jungkook places a hand on your knee. “Stay like this for me,” he says, sitting up from his mountain of pillows to glance down at you. You melt into the plush mattress beneath you, staring down at him between your legs. He’s got that adoring look in his eyes, the one that makes you feel so warm and in love, it’s only natural your hand slips down to play with your bare clit again. “That’s my girl,” he smiles, rubbing a hand down the outside of your thigh, urging your legs to fall open.

There’s this overflowing vat of arousal that builds up inside of you everytime Jungkook is around, like the moment your eyes land on him you’re reminded of every position he’s ever had you in. You remember the soft brush of his hands on your body, the way his lips feel on yours, the soft tickle of his hair when he gets too close. It makes your heart lurch in your chest, like if you don’t grab onto him tightly this feeling will slip through your fingers and out of your life. So you were crazily in love with your boyfriend— now what?

A puckered set of lips meets the inside of your thigh, the action ripping you from your overly gooey, overly soft inner rambling. Your hand trails down your quivering pussy lips, collecting your dripping wetness as you go. At the same time, Jungkook kisses down the inside of your thigh, soft smacks of his lips against your skin filling the air with an emotion that makes you bite down a whimper. Your hole puckers at the brush of your fingers, anticipating an entrance that you yearn to give into soon.

His mouth is on you before your finger can go deeper than a centimeter in. But Jungkook doesn’t brush your hand off, doesn’t shove you away to prove his mouth was undoubtedly better. He places a kiss over your knuckles, before swallowing up your significantly smaller hand with his, that of which he clasps together over your navel.

You groan, head rolling from side to side. “Don’t be so soft with me,” you whine, leg twitching when he presses a kiss against your engorged bundle of nerves. “Push me around like that one time, you know I like it.”

Jungkook grins, mouthing over your clit with practiced ease that has you releasing all kinds of whimpers and sighs. He’s got his other hand wrapped around your thigh, strong arm pulling you closer to that devious mouth and tongue that lavished attention on your clit. “Need me to be mean to you, baby?” he purrs, curling his tongue in such a way that it makes your entire body tense up, muscles pulled tight. “Want me to push you around like the stupid little girl you are?” You moan, head bobbing up and down at the ideas he stuffs in your mind. As he moves down the length of your cunt, that round nose you love brushes against your bud, and the cheeky shit takes an obnoxiously loud sniff of it, a soft groan breathed against your lower lips. “But isn’t this better?” he hums, languidly molding his lips against your lower ones, much in the same way he does with the ones on your face; he moves slowly, slips his tongue in every few seconds before eventually diving in head on. “Slow... and so easy.”

“Kook,” you mewl, getting this overwhelming urge to cover your face with your hands. But you can’t, because he’s knotted one hand with yours and his fingers only tighten when you try to yank them apart. Instead you’re left pressing one knuckle against your mouth, brows pinching as he begins slowly fucking his tongue into your cunt. “F-Faster,” you beg. He, of course, ignores your plea.

The wet mass moves past the clenched muscles around your hole, nose brushing against your lips with every intrusion. Every few cycles he stops to press a kiss against your pussy, so hard and wet that it hurts when he pulls off. You’re left writhing and moaning, your heel knocking against his shoulder when he pushes your leg up closer to your chest. “It’s enough,” you cry, your entire body shivering.

Jungkook pulls off with a loud pop, lips glistening with your arousal. He’s got this glint on his eyes, like he’s thoroughly entertained by your reactions. He shuffles around to get comfortable, finally releasing that grip on your hand. Immediately, your newly freed hand jumps forward to tangle in the hair above his ear, tracing down the delicate curve of his cheekbone. Jungkook turns his head, pressing a soft peck against your open palm that makes your heartbeat thunder in your ears.

As he moves around, his leg bumps against something that has both of you pausing. It sounds out of place next to your shallow breaths, and both of you glance down only to catch sight of that stupid package from Sexuality Unleashed teetering on the edge of the bed.

The moment you see it, it’s like you’re transported into an omnipresent view of the scene, the next few hours flashing before your eyes as Jungkook snorts. You know he’s going to reach for it in two seconds, and you know he’s going to tear the hot pink packaging apart with his bare hands. He does so with a scary amount of power, the industrial tape not standing a chance against him. A box roughly the same size as the package falls out, and before you can kick it away and save yourself from suffering beneath Jungkook’s teasing antics, he’s snatching up the box.

“The Bullet Bestie,” he reads aloud, dark eyes flying across the text with lightning speed before that box is also being ripped open. (Briefly, there’s a voice in your head that thinks of Doyeon, but you’re not sure why.) Out tumbles a little pink bullet with a strap on one end that bounces against your thigh and an even smaller remote.

“Baby,” you rush out, the sight of the tiny toy making your heart thunder in your chest. “We can look at it another time,” you try, hands coming up to brush against his face again. “Why don’t you finish off here?” you ask, a sickeningly sweet politeness dripping off your tongue as the knot in your tummy fades into the background of his attention.

Jungkook ignores you, picking up the remote with a wondrous look in his eyes. Before you can try to persuade him back between your legs, a quiet click cuts you off and the little bullet whirls to life. You yelp at the sudden vibrations against the inside of your thigh, so close to your throbbing core. The jump of your thighs has it falling onto the mattress below you, wide eyes snapping back to the smirk that grows on his face.

“No,” you say slowly, sitting back up, “no, no,” you try, your usual assertiveness melting into a whiny cry as you try to wiggle away from him and the nefarious ideas infesting his lust-addled mind. You’re barely turning, ready to make a run for it and hand him his victory by forfeit, when Jungkook is catching you by the waist. Your hips get pulled up, arms clawing uselessly at the sheets beneath you as he drags you close to him. He’s fast, already having moved onto his knees behind you, and when he yanks you up, you can feel every hot plane of his body aligned with your backside. “Kook, please just make me cum,” you gasp.

There’s a smile pressed against your shoulder, lips still wet from before, kissing along the side of your neck. “Look at my girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly jump out of your skin when something smooth is traced along your thigh. One hand slips beneath the material of your shirt, soothingly rubbing circled against your skin. This hand also holds the tiny remote between two fingers, and every nerve in your body is on edge waiting for it to be used. “Where’s that smartmouth now?”

“Jungkook,” you try to warn. But there’s no bite to your words, only an anticipation that grows the closer he moves that damned toy between your thighs. “Baby, we-we can play another time, okay? Just please—“

A soft click, and suddenly your spine is giving out on you, upper body flopping forward as Jungkook runs the vibrations over your clit. Of course Jungkook follows, never letting you slip far from his reach. A loud moan spills from your lips, lower lip wobbling at the unreal amounts of pleasure he bestows upon you with such a small toy. “W-Wait,” you sob, the coil from before suddenly magnified tenfold. It makes your orgasm loom over you bigger than ever, a wave that threatens to spill over and drown you in one go. “No-please.”

His mouth presses against your ear, hot breaths fanning against the skin there. “Hey pretty girl, does it feel good?” he husks out, kissing just below your ear. “Aw fuck,” he groans, something stiff pressing against the cleft between your cheeks, “can’t even see if you’re making that stupid face right now.”

You are, but you don’t even have the words to tell him that. The moment the vibrator had made contact with your already ravished clit, your eyes had rolled into the back of your head. You don’t doubt you look like those silly ads you’d laughed at earlier, mouth opening and closing every few seconds as he circles the toy around your bud. You settle on a high-pitched whimper that has Jungkook laughing meanly against your ear.

It ends too soon, the stimulation from Jungkook eating you out for a few minutes combining with the bullet to form a powerful duo that swallows you whole. An embarrassingly loud moan rips itself from your throat, hands twisting in the sheets beneath you as it washes over you. It’s so powerful, it blinds you, pussy spasming. Jungkook’s name is repeated about a thousand times in between, your body eventually melting back into the mattress as the final shocks run through you.

The vibrator clicks off just as quietly as it turned on, your harsh breaths filling the room in its place. “Good girl,” Jungkook praises, raining down a parade of kisses against your shoulder. You mewl in appreciation, still awkwardly shoving your face into the mattress, and your hips in the air. From the corner of your eyes, you watch him set the glistening toy off to the side, and you’re just about ready to thank the heavens for such an experience with your boyfriend, when said boyfriend hits you with a curveball.

The gentle pecks against yours shoulder dissolve into harsh kisses, rough hands trailing up your waist. The t-shirt gathers around his knuckles, pushed and pushed until he’s got those same hands cupping your breasts. “Did you like that?” he asks, biting down against your shoulder; the sensation is dulled by your shirt being in the way but it still makes you whine. You moan softly, nodding against the mattress as he gets to kneading your breasts over your bra. “Mm,” Jungkook sighs, “my pretty girl was so good for me, wasn’t she?”

Those deft fingers run back down, crawl beneath the elastic of your lounge bra and push it away until your breasts are bouncing out of their cage. “Kook,” you sigh, eyes fluttering shut as he traces circles around your nipples. “W-Wait,” you whimper, suddenly reminded of the swollen cock pressed against your backside when he leans closer.

“Shhh,” he soothes, tweaking your nipples. “Relax for me, sweetheart,” he coos, flicking your hardened nipples with his fingers. You can’t relax, not with your body still so sensitive and him playing with you. Still, the low intonation makes something soft and warm settle in your chest, the kisses against your jaw making your eyes fall shut. “That’s it,” he says, giving one nipple a playful twist that draws a high-pitched moan from you.

Just as you’re beginning to fall into the rhythm of Jungkook’s caresses and voice, he releases one breast to traverse his hand down and over your tummy, to your sensitive pussy. You gasp, biting down on your lip as he teasingly flicks your clit with his fingers. “Bet you could come again now,” he murmurs, taking the tip of your earlobe into his mouth and nibbling softly. You groan, shoving your face into the sheets as if that will save you from your doom. “Bet your pretty little pussy can cream itself just like this, isn’t that right, sweet girl?”

You whimper, hips bucking back against him when he begins nudging your bud, lewd sounds reaching your ears. His other hand remains on your breast, no longer toying with your nipple but simply holding it almost comfortingly. There’s a smirk pressed against your skin, that pearly white smile you usually adore so much teasing you as he circles your nub.

“Come on,” he encourages quietly, kissing up the column of your neck again. You moan, thighs quivering as he strokes a second orgasm out of you with no struggle. Your eyes and throat burn at the heat that washes over you, and you release a hoarse scream into the mattress— Jungkook chuckles at the sound, egging you on with that low voice until your muscles go limp a second time.

When he rolls you onto your stomach again, you try desperately to cover the tears that blur your vision, turning away from him like a child when he tries to look. “Crybaby, crybaby,” he sings teasingly, prying your hands away to capture your mouth with his for the first time that night. “Lemme see those tears, baby,” he purrs.

He tastes like you, tongue dripping with that sweet tang of your pussy, and he smells like you too. It strokes the flames of you ego, arms eventually wrapping around his shoulders as he settles above you. He pulls off with a curl of his tongue against your swollen lips, brown eyes lazily staring down at you. It’s embarrassing how well kept he still was compared to your half-nude state of dress. His skin is all glowy and pretty, not a single tear track in sight, and his grin is still too relaxed for your liking.

Jungkook’s body feels so warm and comforting against yours, muscles keeping the heat trapped between your bodies. You go to brush a hand through his hair, needing to feel the familiarity of those silky locks, before he’s suddenly leaning away. He shuffles onto his knees again, glancing down at your thoroughly abused cunt with a quirk in his brows.

“God,” you groan, knocking your foot against his side. “Just fuck me already,” you huff despite your earlier fatigue. You could only go so long without feeling Jungkook’s fat demon cock inside of you.

He snorts at your snappy tone, cutely tilting his head to the side to move his hair out of his face. His jaw looks sharp from this angle, facial features covered in shadows the lamplight behind him can’t touch. “Can’t,” he announces, and you could pull your hair out from all this unnecessary build up.

Truth to be told, you and Jungkook were both equally as unrestrained when it came to each other. Most of the time, the lead up to actual, penetrative, key-in-lock sex included a couple minutes of heavy petting from his end, and maybe a half assed handjob from you. Sometimes if you felt extra attentive, he’d eat you out and you'd him off. But for the most part, the two of you jumped straight into it after an orgasm, like horny teenagers despite the two of you being twenty-three now.

The most adventurous you’d ever gotten up until the point was maybe two orgasms bestowed upon you by a crazed Jungkook. And, well. You had hit two orgasms now. You were ready for his monster cock.

“Kook,” you whine childishly.

Jungkook shakes you off, placing a palm on both your knees. Slowly, he spreads your thighs apart again, eyes zeroed in on the glossy folds that come into view, the sparkling pearly cum that leaks out of your hole. “I can’t, baby,” he says, almost pained. “I gotta clean you up first,” he insists, and before you can tell him how counterproductive it is to lick you clean of your arousal before fucking you, he’s diving face first into your cunt.

But the biggest surprise doesn’t come from Jungkook going in for thirds, but from the hands he clasps around your thighs, the sheer strength he uses to roll you over (ignoring the shriek you let out) to sit you on his face. “No, no,” you yelp immediately, “I-I‘ll break you,” you cry, trying to escape from his hold.

From beneath your thighs, dark eyes peering up at you daringly, you can see the clear warning on Jungkook’s face. It’s a look that loudly says don’t you dare fucking move, shapely brows sending a jolt of genuine fear down your spine for a moment. “Jungkook,” you fret, trying to ignore the arousal that only continues to blossom as his tongue laps against your folds for the second time that night. “I’m, I’m,” you stammer, hands burying themselves in his hair as he ignores your cries. “I’ll break you,” you try again, spine arching when he slurps your clit into his mouth. “I-I’ll—“

He pulls off with a pop. “Fuck my face, baby,” he says, as if he hadn’t heard a single of your concerns at all. His nose nudges against your clit, a whimper catching in your throat. Briefly, his hand disappears from around your thigh, and when it returns, that tiny bullet vibrator from earlier is pressed against your thigh. “You got that?”

You nod, internally torn apart by your fear of crushing him and your need to drag your cunt all over your boyfriend’s handsome face. You glance down at him, watch him slip that vibrator into his mouth for just a second and lewdly coat it in his saliva, before he’s reaching around to shove it past your pussy lips. They’re still swollen and puffy, but have long since relaxed enough for him to slip it in. “B-But what if—“

“You won’t,” he cuts off, readjusting himself closer to your cunt again, “come on, pretty girl.”

The reason you think you and Jungkook click so well was because he was able to bring that vulnerable side out of you every now and then. He knew you liked to parade around with that huge superiority complex, and he loved it. But he also knew there were things you liked and disliked, and sometimes it took a little pushing for you to reveal them.

For a second, that horny cloud over his irises lifts, and he gives you one of those cute, sloppy winks as he taps your thigh gently. “Fuck my face, sweetheart,” he whispers, “drag that pretty cunt all over me until I can’t breathe.” A gasp catches in your throat, hands unconsciously curling against his scalp. He notices, and flashes you a lazy smirk. “You can do that, can’t you?”

Something akin to adoration blooms in your chest, and before you can blurt out something embarrassing—like I love you—there’s a soft click that has The Bullet Bestie revving up inside of you. You gasp, the sudden vibrations deep inside your pussy making your hips snap forward, clit rubbing against Jungkook’s nose.

“O-Oh,” you cry, and that’s all it takes for you to lose it. Your hips start off slow, at first just savoring the wet drag of his tongue against your lips, his nose against your clit. He sticks his tongue out for you, and part of you wants to tell him he’s a good boy, that corny hentai ad flashing in your mind, but you doubt you’ll survive the aftermath of that. Once you find that perfect pace, your hands are practically yanking at his hair, pushing him further into the mattress as you ride his face like he’s nothing but a toy. “Kook, Jungkook,” you pant, grinding your lower lips against his all too eager mouth.

It feels oddly weird being over him like this, using him like this. You like to think you and Jungkook have equal power in the bedroom, but you will admit that more often than not, he assumes control by default. You’re not particularly bothered by that, because you doubt you’d ever come up with the crazy ideas Jungkook did when he was horny (okay, a lie, because you definitely have thought of crazy sex schemes before).

But, this moment…

The power was quickly going to your head. “Fuck,” you sob, roughly dragging the length of your pussy over and over his face. The hands around your thighs are pressing against your skin with a strength that would hurt were you not blinded by arousal. His eyes are shut, lids fluttering open every now and then as he watches you buck wildly over his face like he was a pillow in high school and your parents were gone for the weekend.

It doesn’t help that the rhythmic pulses of the vibrator inside of you are doing their job well, the tongue that slips into your pussy joining together to form a powerful combination. It’s ultimately what has you halting your manic thrusts, instead falling into a slow grind over him. Your hips circle, eyes squeezed shut as you lose yourself in the lapping of his tongue against your dripping hole. “Mmmf,” you mewl, biting down on your lower lip as the wet muscle prods against a delicate spot within you. You hear feels light, view of the gorgeous man beneath you obstructed by the eyelids that can't seem to stay open. “N-No,” you cry, pulling his hair more roughly than you intended to in order to redirect him. “There, there,” you whimper, holding him tight against your pussy.

Beneath you, Jungkook exhales harshly against your lips, hands moving frantically over your thighs as he works his tongue inside of you alongside the bullet vibrator. If you weren’t so caught up in your own pleasure, all kinds of sounds spilling from your lips, you would have heard the quiet moans that fall from his. Alas.

It takes a few more pulses from the toy and a few more licks from Jungkook until you’re coming for the third time that night, features twisting up as your pussy clenches around his tongue before spilling down his mouth. Your back arches, a defeated moan escaping you as you release the same mess he’d claimed to clean up onto his lovely face. You can barely breathe afterwards, mouth dry and head dizzy when Jungkook finally pops back out from between your thighs. You barely have enough time to lift yourself up, pussy lightly brushing across his Adam’s apple as you stop yourself from crushing his windpipe. It makes you twitch.

“Good girl,” Jungkook praises with a cheeky smile that distracts you from the bullet toy he retrieves from your quivering cunt. His face is absolutely glistening from your arousal, skin warm and flush. He’s looking up at you like you’re some mythical goddess and he’s but a humble villager coming to pay his respects at the temple that is your body. Fuck, were you okay? You don’t think you’ve ever felt this good in your entire life, and Jungkook’s mushy gaze was doing things to your heart.

He presses a kiss against the inside of your thigh before helping you off of him, laughing meanly when you flop limply down beside him. He’s still fully clothed, a fact that irks you when he leans over to kiss you with that glossy face of his. “D’you like it?” he mumbles, kissing softly down your face. You nod, legs twitching from the aftermath of that wild ride. “I saw it, y’know,” he says suddenly.

“Saw what?” you mumble, mindlessly rolling your head to the side and exposing more skin when he begins kissing along your neck.

Jungkook says nothing, just rolls over you. Part of you thinks he’s crazy, but you’re suddenly hit with the realization that while Jungkook’s drawn three orgasms out of you in the course of an hour, you hadn’t done anything for him. Before you can dive head first into swallowing his cock, he’s kissing you softly. “That stupid face,” he smirks, slotting his mouth against yours. “That weird, now realistic face,” he tacks on.

You huff out a laugh, throwing your leg around his waist comfortably. Jungkook smiles, kisses you one last time before settling in your arms, face cutely pressed in between your boobs. “Hey,” you call, “don't you wanna cum too?”

He shakes his head, a soft sigh filling the air. “Nah,” he says, cuddles closer into you. “Rest now, baby.”

You roll your eyes. “I can feel your dick against my thigh,” you point out, wiggling your pelvis upward to brush against his throbbing erection. Jungkook holds you down in an effort to stop you. “Fuck me.”

He groans against your collarbone. “No, you’re tired,” he tries to convince you, but his skin is warm and flushed in the way it always gets when he’s riled up. “Sleep.”

With the leg around his hip, you pull him closer. “Fuck me, Jungkookie,” you purr, using the hands in his hair to turn his face up towards yours. His dark eyes are drawn down cutely, pouty lips too. “Use my body,” you suggest, “I’m yours anyway.”

His eyes flutter shut, a quiet whimper falling from his lips. “Don’t say that,” he sighs, “makes me wanna do very mean things to you.”

You smile. “You can do whatever you want to me, don’t you know that?” Another groan, his head falling forward until he’s hiding in your neck. Still, there’s movement from below, he sweats slipping down at his hips until that throbbing cock is pressed into the tiny crease where your thigh meets your pelvis. There’s a moment of hesitation, and you wonder if this is what he felt like earlier when he’d managed to get you to sit on his face. “Inside, Jungkookie,” you murmur, reaching down to line him up with your sensitive entrance. He whines softly, arms wrapping around you as he pulls you close. “Good boy.”

Despite your earlier belief that you’d never survive an encounter with Jungkook after using such a term on him, the result is much different from what you had anticipated. He visibly melts into your arms, cock slipping past your folds easily. “No,” he says, his voice feathery and whiny against your ear. “I can’t.”

You soothe a hand down his back, eyes fluttering shut as he begins slowly rutting against your swollen lips. “That’s it,” you encourage, tugging softly at his wavy hair. Jungkook moans wantonly against your neck, rolling his hips harshly against you until his arms are the only things keeping you from jostling out of his hold. “Do you like this pussy?” you ask, purposefully clenching around him, tummy tightening at the stimulation you keep packing on.

Jungkook shudders, pace growing slipping inside of you. “Yes,” he pants, “s-so wet… creamy.”

“Yeah?” you huff, pressing a smiley kiss against his forehead. “It’s yours.”

“Ffffuck,” Jungkook chokes, picking up his pace as his well-deserved orgasm reaches its peak. He’s breathing harshly now, and it’s taking everything in you to keep your pussy tight around him. But after the night he’d given you, the sounds and faces he pulled from you, it’s the least you can do. Besides, your body, after being so thoroughly pleased, still rears up for one final orgasm with him. “Mine,” he growls, bucking his hips into you. “You’re mine, baby, mine,” he seethes, ending his little tryst with a piston of his hips that makes you gasp, body almost unconsciously spasming around him. It’s painful, but so, so delicious how he manages to pull this last orgasm from you as he finally busts inside of you.

He comes with a stuttering garble of words, none of which you catch as he collapses into your hold for the final time that night. “Fuck,” he pants afterwards, leaning into your touch when he finally registers the soft combing of fingers through his hair. “That was evil.”

You laugh, pulling him closer. “As evil as you making me suffer through three orgasms before putting your dick in me?” you tease. Jungkook slips out of you, and you know it’ll be a hassle to clean your sheets tomorrow but it’s worth it.

“It’s called building the scene,” he weakly defends, blindly tugging the puffy blanket over the two of you. “I was gonna rhyme it with that horrible website you made me use but I already forgot it’s name.”

“Rude,” you snap, “it’s called KissAnime.”

“And fore-play,” he suddenly says, and you almost yank his eyeballs out of their sockets for doing that stupid thing again.

—

epilogue

Two weeks later, your favorite website and home to hentai ads is shut down after years of piracy. Jungkook laughs at your demise, sits and actually cackles at your heartbreak, until he eventually comforts you with his flaming demon cock and a subscription to both Crunchyroll and Funimation. Doyeon spends weeks tracking down a missing package, apparently some freebie she’d gotten for being such an avid customer on Sexuality Unleashed: The Best Toys Worldwide! before eventually finding it in your drawer. And because her and Jungkook have some awkward life-long rivalry for your attention, he doesn’t pay for that.

—

#goldenclosetnet #networkbangtan #bangtanhq #ksmutclub #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook smut #jjk smut #jeon jeongguk smut #jjk fic #jungkook fic #bts fic #bts smut #mine

3K notes · View notes

idy-ll-ique · 3 years

Text

Cravings.

Pairing: Sam Wilson x F!Reader

Genre: Fluff overdose

Warnings: none

Requested: nope

based off this prompt

Summary: How Y/N's pregnancy cravings led to her becoming friends with Captain America, The White Wolf, The Scarlet Witch and Vision.

Author's Note: hiya peeps! i am in love with Sam Wilson. but like, who isn't? this is sort of an AU, but not really. takes place in phase 4 of mcu. enjoy!

masterlist

---

Mm, that smells so good…

Y/N took in a deep breath as a sweet, sweet, tangy smell hit her nose. "You smell it, honey?" she cooed, cupping her bulging abdomen as her baby kicked once. Then the kicking increased and she groaned, heaving herself off the couch. "Baby, we can't have it, it's not our food. We already had dinner, sweet—" She whined when her baby kicked twice.

"Maybe they'll understand…?" she whispered to herself. Y/N was 8 months pregnant and lately, her cravings had been at an all time high. Every time she got a craving for something she couldn't have, the baby in her belly wouldn't stop kicking and she'd go to sleep upset, tired and hurt. And today, the baby wanted whatever the neighbors were cooking.

She wasn't really familiar with the neighbors; she liked keeping to herself, and with the addition of the baby and single parenthood, she didn't want to disturb anyone or break the peace. Soon, the kicking got really uncomfortable and Y/N grabbed a plate, walking out of the house. They'll understand, she told herself, they have to. If not then they're heartless cows.

"So, Wilson, you've got a nice apartment here, thought you were living with your sister and nephews at the docks," Bucky grinned, popping open a bottle of beer. "Moved out a couple weeks ago, didn't wanna intrude. Plus she has a boyfriend, it's getting kinda serious between them…" Sam chuckled, "Wanda, whatcha cookin? Smells really good!"

A very pregnant Wanda Maximoff walked out of the kitchen, a huge smile on her face. She was 7 months in with twins. "I'm cooking Borscht, it's a traditional Ukrainian recipe that I like very much. You're gonna love it," she gushed and Bucky raised his glass in mock toast. "Can't wait!" Just then, the bell rang. "I'll get it!" Sam shouted, walking up to the door.

He opened it and saw his neighbor standing there, holding an empty plate. Her head was downcast and she was squirming, fidgeting. Sam had seen her once or twice since he moved in; she was very much pregnant, and she liked keeping to herself so he never invaded her privacy. "Hi, how can I help ya?" He smiled at her. She got startled and looked up, opening her mouth.

Y/N was speechless. She already felt bad about asking her neighbor something like this and now he reveals himself to be this handsome?! "Hello…?" she snapped out of her thoughts and cleared her throat. "I— I'm sorry, I don't wanna intrude…" Bucky showed up behind Sam and she glanced at him, her eyes going wide.

"You have company, oh no, I'm sorry— not now, baby, let's just go—" she whispered, wincing and whimpering in pain when the baby started kicking again. Sam nodded his head towards Bucky who got the hint and left. He then walked outside and closed the door behind him, placing a hand on Y/N's shoulder. "Hey, you can ask me anything, what happened?"

"It's embarrassing…"

"Come on, sweetheart, I'm your neighbor! Sam, by the way, Sam Wilson." She gave him a timid smile. "Y/N Y/L/N. It's just… whatever you're cooking smells really nice and I got a craving; it's wrong, it's your food, your party and I'm intruding like an idiot, it's just— my baby gets really agitated when I don't get what I'm craving for and they kick all night, I'm so sorry—"

Sam grabbed both her shoulders, silencing her. "Don't be embarrassed by this. It's fine, you got a craving? I'll give you some of the food! Wanda, my friend who's cooking, is also 7 months pregnant, believe it or not. She'll be so happy to give you the food, it's a new recipe she's trying and the more people there to eat the better. Why don't you join us?" Y/N sniffled, the kindness of her neighbor and her pregnancy hormones reducing her to tears.

"You're so kind," she whispered and Sam laughed, giving her a warm hug. "But I don't want to intrude." He sighed but understood. "Okay, how about when she's done cooking, you take some of the food home? Will that be okay?" She nodded. "In the meantime, I'd love for you to meet my friends. Wanda especially, wanna come in?" Y/N agreed and the two walked into the apartment.

Bucky and Vision, who were in the sitting room at the time, looked up. Y/N gave them an awkward smile, raising a hand to wipe her tears off. "Hi there," Vision greeted. "Hello, I'm… I'm Y/N, Sam's neighbor, it's nice to meet you," she mumbled shyly. "Hi Y/N, I'm Bucky and this is Vision," Bucky introduced and she nodded. "So, um, there's gonna be a party here…?"

"Oh no, just old friends catching up over dinner. Wanda!" The woman walked out of the kitchen, her eyes lighting up when she saw Y/N. "Hey!" Y/N smiled at her. "Hi, I'm Y/N, nice to meet you." Wanda beamed at Sam. "Your neighbor? Very nice to meet you too, miss!" After a small conversation the Scarlet Witch went back to the kitchen while Sam coaxed Y/N into sitting.

"So, what brings you here?" Bucky asked, glancing at the empty plate. "Cravings," Y/N sighed as Sam followed Wanda to the kitchen, "My baby gets really agitated when I don't get what I'm craving, it's a problem… I didn't want to intrude, it's just… the food smells so nice and I… I actually want to sleep tonight. Just a tiny portion, I'll be gone before you know it."

Bucky frowned at her words. "Gone— hey, we don't mean to make you feel unwelcome here, why don't you stay for dinner? I'm sure Sam offered too, it's really not a big deal. You won't be intruding and Wanda will be delighted to have another member around who wants to eat her traditional recipe, right Vis?" Vision smiled at Y/N and nodded. "Yes, please stay."

"Okay, since you're asking so nicely," she joked and all three of them laughed. "Dinner's ready! Who wants some Borscht?!" Wanda exclaimed gleefully, walking out of the kitchen with a pile of plates and cutlery as Sam followed with a pot with steam coming out of it. "Guess what? Y/N's decided to stay!" Bucky announced and all of them cheered, Wanda giving Y/N a hug.

"That's amazing news!"

"Oh, you managed to talk her into it, how nice…"

Bucky smirked and swung an arm over Sam's shoulders. "Girls like me better than you, pal, accept— ow! I was joking!" Y/N giggled as Sam shoved Bucky off him, giving him a punch on the arm for good measure. "You two seem like really good friends," she commented and Vision scoffed. "You should've seen them when they first met. Couldn't stand each other."

"Oh please, every great friendship starts out like that, am I right?" Wanda nudged Y/N and she grinned. The five of them sat down to eat; Sam served everyone the Borscht. "So, how many months along are you?" Wanda questioned. "8, how about you?" "7, there's twins in there." Y/N gasped. "How lovely! I've always wanted twins, they're so cool."

"I used to have a twin brother," Wanda shrugged. "That's— wow. So, which one of the three is it? Or is he at home?" Y/N smirked. "Vision here, we got married a year ago, it was a small ceremony, only close friends." Y/N grinned at Vision. "Awesome! Congratulations, guys!" Vision and Wanda smiled at each other. "How about you, if you don't mind me asking?"

Y/N's mood dimmed slightly but she kept the smile on her face. "My ex, he got me pregnant. Not really much of a happy story; I love my baby, I really do but I'm gonna have to raise them alone; he said he doesn't even want to visit, let alone pay child support, I just— come on, I'm boring you with the story, I don't wanna be a Debby Downer," she waved in dismissal.

"That's so wrong of him! Give us a name and we'll make that bastard pay up," Sam glared, which made Y/N smile a bit. "It's okay, Sam, you don't have to. I have a nice job, and he isn't that good of a person anyway, it's better if he's out of my life for good. I can't wait to try the Borscht, Wanda." Dinner after that was fun and fairly uneventful.

---

Y/N was watching TV the next morning when someone rang the doorbell. She blinked and opened the door to see Sam standing there, leaning against the doorframe with a small smile on his face. "Sam, hi, what brings you here?" she smiled back at him. "Have you had breakfast?" Y/N frowned slightly and shook her head. "Not yet, I was just about to cook. Why?"

"Will you join me? There's a lot of Borscht left if you're interested." She grinned at him; how had she not introduced herself to him earlier?! "That sounds really nice, thank you for the offer! Let's go." The two walked to Sam's apartment and Y/N sat on the couch as Sam went to the kitchen to get the food. "I actually have something to ask," Sam began as the two sat down to eat.

"What happened?" Y/N questioned curiously, a hand resting on her belly as she ate the delicious Borscht. "I want you to tell me about all your cravings from now on. Anything you want, no matter how weird. I really want to help you, Y/N, will you allow me to do it? I just… I don't want you to suffer anymore, I'm here for you. A friend. Please?" Y/N blinked at him, shocked.

Surely he wasn't that nice? "You really want to do that?" she gasped. "I do. I feel really bad about how your ex just left you so vulnerable and full of responsibility, and he won't even help with the baby, I— I want to take some of the responsibility. It'll make me feel good." Y/N nodded instantly. "That's so nice of you, thank you! I'd love that, you offering to help… you're an angel."

Sam flushed slightly and rubbed the back of his neck, a goofy smile on his face. "Just helping a friend in need." The doorbell rang all of a sudden and Sam sat up, alert. "What?" Y/N whispered. "I'm not expecting anyone. Stay here." Grabbing a gun from a drawer near the dining table Sam put it in his back pocket and went to answer the door. Upon opening the door, he saw a man.

The man was dressed in black trousers and a band t-shirt, his hair a rough mess and a glare on his face. "Can I help you?" Sam frowned. "Your neighbor, Y/N, have you seen her? I'm her ex boyfriend." Sam's blood boiled when he introduced himself but he kept his cool. "I haven't seen her, I'm sorry. She isn't very social, you know and I respect people's privacy."

The man groaned and left. Sam returned to the living room, keeping his gun away with a sigh. "What happened, Sam, everything okay?" Y/N asked worriedly when he sat back down in front of his plate. "Don't be mad." Y/N's frown deepened with confusion. "Why, who was at the door?" He looked up at her. "Your ex. I sent him away. Did you want to talk to him?"

Y/N froze for a minute but then scoffed, wrapping her arms around her middle. "Thank you for that, I wasn't ready to see him. I'm not mad at you, by the way." Sam nodded and the two spent the rest of breakfast in silence.

---

"Y/N! I know you're in there!"

"Go away!"

Upon hearing the commotion out in the corridor Sam opened his front door, seeing Y/N's ex boyfriend banging on the door to her apartment. 3 weeks had passed since he showed up at Sam's house. "Is there a problem here?" he asked calmly and the ex boyfriend turned to him. "Dude, it's none of your business," he sneered but Sam simply raised an eyebrow.

"Y/N is my friend, I think I'd know when she'd want me to intervene."

"Well now's not the time, pal, go back in! Y/N and I are having a personal conversation," he scoffed. "Oh really? Because to me it sounds like she's asking you to go away," Sam rolled his eyes. All of a sudden Y/N's front door swung open and she stepped out, looking between both men. Her eyes lit up when she saw Sam.

Over the course of 3 weeks, Y/N had come to like Sam a lot. Along with being handsome as fuck, he was also really kind, sweet and caring; he bought for her all that she craved, let it be the middle of the night or the afternoon. She also found out that he was an Avenger, previously used to be known as the Falcon but now, Captain America. She trusted him even more, knowing he'd protect her from anything.

"Sam!" she smiled brightly, pushing past her ex to run to Sam. He gave her a tight hug, keeping an arm around her as they both turned to Y/N's ex, who was staring at them, jaw dropped. "A friend, huh, Sam?" he sneered but Sam only stared at him with disdain. "Don't talk to him like that! You weren't even here when I needed you, and now I have an awesome guy helping me with things and you suddenly wanna show up?!"

"Y/N—"

"No, you shut up! You're just a coward and— and an asshole and I don't want anything to do with you anymore. Leave and if you come back, I'll call the police on you, I swear—" Sam cut her off by chuckling wryly. "Sweetheart, I'm an Avenger, are you forgetting? Next time this guy shows up, call Bucky. I'll give you his number. I'm sure Buck will have a lotta fun teaching this guy a lesson."

Y/N beamed at Sam. "Okay!" Y/N's ex stared at the two, jaw dropped. "You're both crazy," he whispered, "Crazy maniacs, I tell you!" Y/N and Sam stared after him with broad smiles as the man left, grumbling under his breath. "Ugh, he's been showing up every day for 3 weeks, and today he created a scene. So sorry about that, Sam, I hope I didn't disturb anything."

"Aw, Y/N, you know I care about you. Don't worry, I was just watching TV. He shows up again, you call me first. I'm always here for you." Y/N gave him a timid smile, rubbing her belly. "I actually wanted to ask you something if you don't mind…" Sam nodded at her to go on. The truth was, he liked her too. She was super adorable, and the pregnant belly of hers made her glow like an angel.

One of the main reasons why he decided to help her out so eagerly was the fact that he wanted to get closer to her, maybe ask her out someday in the future. They would be a happy little family; Sam, Y/N and the baby. He was ready to look after them both, no bias to the baby. "...Sam?" He snapped out of his thoughts, blinked and shook his head.

"Sorry, sorry, got lost in thoughts. What?" The timid smile was back on her face. "I was just wondering if you'd like to go on a date sometime with me… of course you can say no, I won't mind, but I'd really like it if you say yes…" No way. "Y/N, I'd love to go on a date with you, that's fantastic! How about this Saturday, two days from now, at 8 we go to dinner?"

Y/N smiled brightly at his words. "Oh— okay, okay, that will be great! Yeah, yeah, Saturday works for me. So, um, see you then— or maybe before that if I need something, I—" Sam smiled at her endearing behavior as he skittishly ran back to her apartment, a giddy smile on her face. "The things you do to me, Ms Y/L/N," Sam laughed to himself as he went back to his own apartment.

---

A loud, wailing noise pulled Sam out of his slumber. He immediately sat up and checked his phone, walking out of his apartment to ring Y/N's doorbell. She opened the door with a tired smile on her face, greeting him with a quick kiss. "Little one giving you trouble?" he smiled fondly as the two went to the baby's bedroom, who was sobbing at the top of his lungs.

A few days had passed since Y/N had given birth, and since Sam and Y/N started dating. She had a little boy; they named him Luke. "The crying just doesn't stop," Y/N sighed, leaning against the doorframe as Sam entered the bedroom, picking Luke up. The baby quieted instantly, peering up at Sam with his big eyes. "There, there, don't cry. We gotta let your mommy get some sleep or she becomes very cranky."

"Hey!" Sam grinned at her. "I was only kidding, darling, you know I like you," he winked and Y/N shook her head. "Good thing I like you too." A few minutes later, as the baby fell asleep again, Sam's phone buzzed in his pocket. He took it out and saw multiple, hurried texts from Vision. "What happened?" Y/N asked him as he stared at the phone, trying to make sense of the messages. "I don't know."

Y/N grabbed his phone and looked through the cryptic messages, her eyes going wide. "Wanda is in labor! The twins are coming," she whispered and an incredulous expression showed up on Sam's face. "She's only 8 months in, that can't be right." Y/N slapped her forehead. "They're twins, Cap, they always come early. Go to the hospital, I'll see you tomorrow morning."

They shared another kiss, giving each other smiles. "I'll see you then." Sam then left the apartment, rolling his eyes at another weird message Vision had left him.

"For God's sake, you're a robot, how hard is it to type?!"

---

A/N: Thanks for reading, leave a like if you enjoyed!

329 notes · View notes

silkentragedies · 3 years

Text

A boyfriend sounds good, but…

Non idol! Jung Wooyoung x fem! Reader

3.1k words, Highly suggestive at best, making out, FLUFF, E2L vibes, College AU

Warnings: Mentions of STDs, making out. ( This is so self-indulgent it’s horrible lmao- also, not explicit at all.)

This piece of fiction does not reflect the actions of the real-life Jung Wooyoung. Not meant for minors.

College was supposed to be late night parties and hurried submissions, overdosing on caffeine and woefully unedited essay compilations. College was supposed to be hellish hangovers and greasy weekend brunches in bed, helter-skelter running to part-time jobs and missing classes with snoozed alarms.

You got all of that, of course, but you also got one thing you didn’t ask for, in fact, wished beyond wishes that it wouldn’t happen but of course, your guardian angel was up to some mischief: You got yourself an archenemy.

Jung fucking Wooyoung.

It all started off small, of course; bumping into each other rather violently in the hallways on orientation day ended with your coffee on the floor. Minor detail- his phone had also dropped on the floor.

You apologized profusely- he seemed like an upperclassman with his leather jacket, slim but solid build, a head of double-toned hair and oh were those tattoos peeking out of his collar- no point in causing a ruckus on the first day. You even offered to pay for the damage.

And then he opened his mouth.

“Can’t you watch where you’re going?”

The sheer annoyance in his tone rubbed you the wrong way- obviously you had to respond, you weren’t the only one at fault-

“Sorry, but you weren’t watching where you were going either. So don’t tout the blame to me-”

“Oh, whatever, just keep your money. I can get it fixed myself.”

The audacity of this bi-

“Good for you then, because my offer is off the table now, pretty boy.”

A smirk curled up his lip- “You think I’m pretty?”

“About as pretty as a skunk, especially with that hair.”

You had to tamp down the urge to childishly stick your tongue out at his bemused, mildly annoyed expression before walking past him.

Lamenting the loss of your morning coffee, you hurried your way to the orientation venue. At Least he was an upperclassman. Thankfully you wouldn’t have to deal with him-

“Did you see that hot guy in the leather jacket and that black-blonde hair ?”

Fuck’s sake.

“His name’s Jung Wooyoung and apparently all the upperclassmen already have an eye on him. He’s in our major so we really lucked out, hot guys-wise.”

Fuck’s sake.

Surely you could just avoid him and pretend he didn’t exist?

But no.

Jung fucking Wooyoung turned out to be the apple of the campus’ eye in a matter of 2 weeks. He was as new to the university as the rest of you and yet, managed to look more put together, cooler than the rest of you still struggling to figure out class numbers and professor names.

He was the upperclassmen darling- people drooled over him, wanted to befriend him, and invite him to all the big parties…

and fuck- even the teachers were already wrapped around his infuriating pinky finger. They allowed him to waltz into class 25 minutes late, smile his infuriating innocent smile and chill in the back row, scot fucking free.

A month in, he’d gotten into the Dance Club too- cementing his legendary status in the university. It was unheard of, after all, for a freshman to get into the unattainable Dance Club in his first attempt.

You happened to visit one of the club’s performances one weekend and even you couldn’t ignore the sheer talent he radiated. It only infuriated you more to watch Wooyoung hog the stage’s spotlight with almost no effort- all perfect lines, sharp and clean movements…

It’s fine, you could still ignore his existence

But no.

Another thing about Jung Wooyoung- he found sick pleasure in annoying the living daylights out of you.

It was so juvenile, so high-school, so immature of him- sticking gum in your hair, snapping your bra strap, kicking the back of your chair, striking up nonsense debates with you in class…

And then he had the nerve to laugh in your face when you glared at him with hellfire in your eyes because you were too polite to lash out in front of a professor.

Of course, you exhibited no such restraint outside the classroom.

“You vs Woo” was a commonplace explanation for the commotions that blazed up in the campus courtyard every other day. You were like wolves, the way you snarled at each other, not hesitating to slash at each other with as many cutting words as you could find.

This went on for months, an entire semester marred by an enmity that seemed to stem from nothing- until one day, mister Jung Wooyoung really fucked up.

“WHERE THE FUCK ARE YOU? FACE ME, YOU COWARDLY WORM!” Your angry yelling and thudding on the door had Wooyoung’s roommates Yeosang and… Choi San? running to open the door to their shared dorm room.

You barged into Wooyoung’s room, unplugging the game he was playing. “What the fuck-”

“You dirty fucking bastard. You shameless shitstain of a fucking human being-”

Slap. Wooyoung reeled back. In all this time, you’d never actually hit out at him physically. It had always been words. Maybe this time he crossed a line?

“You told Changbin I had a fucking STD. THE GALL OF YOU-” You lashed out at him with every few words, pushing Wooyoung further back against the back wall of his room.

“How fucking dare you make assumptions about me like that. you lowlife scumbag.” You snarled in his face, now having him trapped between you and the wall.

You were smaller than him by quite a bit- it was almost amusing to see Wooyoung cowering in front of you, lowkey terrified of what you’d throw at him next.

“Okay okay, fuck, I’m sorry!” He burst out finally, cutting you right across your angry rant. “I didn’t mean it like that!! I swear, I didn’t even know you were the one he was talking about. And I only told him to be safe from STDs, not that anybody had one.”

“What makes you think I’ll believe you, Jung,” You screeched. “You’ve always been a dick in general to me. I wouldn’t put it past you to say something like that and lie to my face about it.”

You back away, almost disgusted at being so close to him, “Seriously, dude. Get fucked.” Flipping him off before leaving, you turn around to look at him still standing where you’d backed him up to, an evil glint in your eye.

“It will be so fucking unfortunate if somebody told the campus gossip blog you had erectile dysfunction and your hookups were all fake.”

Safe to say, Wooyoung never made digs at your sexual activity again.

Neither did he have much sexual activity of his own for a while. Not that there was much sexual activity in your case either.

Maybe it was that exact…starvation that led Wooyoung to behave the way he did.

What was juvenile teasing became more… flirtatious?

Oh gods, what the fucking fuck is going on-

Suddenly, it wasn’t gum in your hair, it was soft whispers against your ear, breath warm against your cheek

It wasn’t kicking the back of your chair, it was leaning in front of you to fistbump Lee Felix on the other side of you until you could smell his intoxicating chocolate-honey-sweat scent.

He’d taken to taking his leather jacket off and sitting through classes (he still turned up late for) in a muscle t shirt that showed off his toned arms-

All of his movements now seemed to be designed to tease the crawling under your skin you hadn’t been able to quench recently-

Not that you were a serial hookup kinda person, but you’d been fairly sexually active until semester exams and Wooyoung’s rumors had brought around quite a dry spell for you.

It was like every action of his sparked something wildfire hot in your head, tension stringing your senses into overdrive- were you imagining it?

Wooyoung was having some troubles with said crawling under-skin himself.

Since when did you wear skinny jeans like that to class? Did you always have such a pretty neck, just waiting to get marked up? Did you always have that sway to your hips when you walked out of class?

The forced abstinence was doing bad things to him.

It did rather amuse him, however, when he could see your breath catch a little from his murmurings in your ear, or squirm in your seat when he spoke to Felix before the professor arrived. It was the little things, truly.

You still fought like a cat and dog though- there was no way the two of you would ever let on that your scope of noticing each other had gone beyond annoyance and rivalry a while ago.

“Fuck no. I’m not doing this fucking project with you. It’s worth half the fucking grade and you’re a numbskull when it comes to this subject.”

“Like I want to deal with you anymore than I have to, sweetheart. You’re pretentious enough in class as it is.”

Fate really loved playing the cliche card with you- of course you got paired up with Wooyoung for one of your semester projects.

No, it definitely wasn’t the teacher that saw you two glaring more at each other more than the whiteboard and decided to take matters into her own hands.

Of fucking course the teacher refused to allow switching of partners or individual grading- it had to be a team effort or you’d both fail the subject. As a team. Yippee-ki fucking yay.

So you two ended up in the library at 11 p.m, two nights before your first check point review, having procrastinated the fuck out of working together until the last possible minute.

Amidst cursing at each other and cups of ramen and iced americano, the two of you found yourself stuck with each other and attempting to build the basis of an acceptable report to present.

Surprisingly enough, Wooyoung wasn’t entirely a lost cause when it came to the subject. He actually made sizable contributions to the report. He even got you some coffee on his break, despite the jibes and taunts you threw at him about going soft- you were the type to hold a grudge.

You were both wandering down the shelves in the library, looking for more references when Wooyoung decided to open his big mouth again.

“You do realize that shitty rumor you put out didn’t really mess with my prospects, right?” Wooyoung was so full of shit. “If anything, I’d be worried about you, sweetheart.”

There it was again. Sweetheart. Another of those taunting things that just riled you up in all the wrong(right) ways. It was like he knew everything you would go weak for and then shamelessly exploited them all.

“Unlike you, Wooyoung, I don’t need people to stroke my ego…or anything else. I can get myself going just fine.”

“If you did know how to stroke anybody’s anything, sweetheart, you wouldn’t have trouble getting some.”

Ohhh, so he wants to play some games!!! Okay then-

You reached out to flick at his ponytail, ever-so slightly enamoured by how well he pulled off the double-toned look.

“Like you know anything about how to please in bed, babe.”

It was unfair how much that nickname falling from your lips affected Wooyoung. Some…not very appropriate thoughts had already taken root in his brain and you running your mouth was not helping at all.

“Good enough for them to beg, sweetheart.”

A soft crow of laughter escaped you as you turned to fully face him, the both of you standing between the Greek Architecture and Geography sections.

“You sure you weren’t the one doing the begging?”

“Oh, really now?”

You really should’ve thought through what was leaving your mouth

Because now you were wedged between the shelves and Wooyoung’s (unfairly) toned body, his arms caging you in with that signature shit-eating grin on his face as he leaned closer to you-

The tension was almost atrocious now, suffocating you when it had only previously nudged at you. You could feel it settle under your skin, in your veins, fingers itching to reach out and pull him closer

But you kept your hands braced against the shelves- you would not give him the satisfaction of making the first move yourself…right?

Fuck, you really wanted to though-

It had be the late hour leaving you with lesser inhibitions than normal or possibly the pent up horny in your system or maybe the questionable direction your conversation was headed in

There was no other plausible reason for your arch nemesis’ lips to look that inviting

It must’ve been the way your attention flitted from his eyes to his lips that gave you away, a momentary lapse of self-control before you looked away, off to some point behind his shoulders-

And he smirk only widens

“You know, nobody really visits this corner of the library.”

“Your point?”

Both your voices were whispers now, your bodies close enough to touch but not quite, Wooyoung’s face a few inches away from yours and holding your gaze

(He had honey flecks in those dark eyes, 7 on one side and 4 on the other, like gold leaf in coffee)

“We could easily find out who begs for who…”

He still hadn’t touched you yet, his hands placed on the shelf on either side of you- you could move out from the space if you so wished-

Despite the tension between the both of you, it seemed like… like he was waiting for you to make the first move, voice your consent, act on it

How considerate, you thought to yourself as you let your sight wander to either side, checking for people

Surprising you found Jung Wooyoung’s one possible redeeming quality like this, mind hazy and barely restraining yourself from kissing the living daylights out of him-

Oh well, fuck it

A soft sound left Wooyoung as you curled your hand around the back of his neck and pulled his face to yours, lips meeting in a soft, hesitant kiss

How dare he be a good kisser too?

One hand reached up to cup your cheek and you instinctively tilted your head into the warmth of his palm as the kiss deepened

Unfair that he could take your breath away so effortlessly

There was nothing hesitant about the way Jung wooyoung kissed you back

Lips pressing more persistently against yours, teeth grazing your lower lip and pulling slightly before diving in again, hand now curled around the back of your neck

His other hand caressed your side and gripped your hips as he pressed you gently against the shelves, your arm slipping down to clutch at the front of his shirt as his body molded all too perfectly against yours

You could feel him everywhere

Everywhere

From the way his lips had begun to land messy kisses against your jaw and neck, the hand on your hip tightening and slipping under your shirt to clutch at soft skin, hips flush against yours

You couldn’t bring yourself to pull away from Wooyoung, your head spinning at the intoxicating feeling he brought with him

The sensation of his mouth against your neck was almost euphoric, your head lolling back against the books and leaving you to pull your lower lip between your teeth, an almost futile feeling bid to keep silent, you’re still in public

Somehow your hands wound up in his hair, pulling the double-toned strands as his head dipped lower, a quiet groan from Wooyoung your only pointer that he liked it

So this is why he was so sure of himself, your mind temporarily blanking when Wooyoung’s teeth pulled against the sensitive skin, biting and sucking gently

A choked, uneven sound escaped your mouth when he pushed you harder against the shelves, hand reaching lower to squeeze your butt-

A smirk lit up his eyes as he straightened up to look at the line of red- blue blooming across your neck, then at you, cheeks warm and still biting your lip, looking resolutely away from his gaze

“Weren’t we supposed to be working on the project?”

This little buzzkill.

You didn’t work on the project that night

You spent it in Wooyoung’s bedroom, getting railed within an inch of your life.

Not without the lack of the both of you being absolutely unable to keep your hands off each other on the way there

Between the library and his dorm, you pulled or got pulled into shady alleys and corners for ‘another taste’

“Never again.” You warned him when he dropped you off at your dorm, you looking windswept from the wind of course and his hoodie up because of the cold not because his neck was more purple than tan-

Lies.

Your daytime dynamic remained the same

But now with added benefits-

He got to corner you after class, feel you up until you were gasping his name and then leave you hanging

You got to make brazen moves under the table in the library whenever he got too snarky for his own good

He could ask nicely, you learnt. Broken groans and choked-up sounds would escape him when you ran your nails over his skin, soft and sharp and wanting and unyielding as you kissed your way down his body

Down his neck, over his chest, the hard planes of his stomach

He would plead for more when you sucked him off, bucking his hips closer to you everytime you slowed down or stopped

Find him at the right time, though and he could just as easily return the favour

He would tease you relentlessly, hands ghosting everywhere dangerous and then pulling away just to watch you squirm and make grabby hands at him, a frown marring your kiss- swollen lips

Leave conspicuous marks too high up on your neck for you to cover, dark enough for a day or two that even makeup left shadows

Spending a long, long time between your legs only to get up and start dressing, claiming to be late for class

Quickies were your religion at this point

Janitors closets locked and hand covering your mouth to muffle your moans before a dance competition, empty bedrooms in frat parties with one of you getting pushed onto the bed

It was an infernal coupon from hell : Find one archrival, get a fuck buddy free of cost!

Of course, there were side effects

“Did you just walk out of that empty classroom with Jung Wooyoung? After class hours?” “We were studying for the midterms!!”

“Uh.. Wooyoung, who was that leaving the dorm building? at 1 in the morning?” “uh yEAH WE WERE DOING THE PROJECT YEAH.”

Yeah, a boyfriend sounds nice but an archenemy you can make out with in secret sounds ravishingly pleasing-

When the boy in question is a certain young man with double toned hair with a penchant for leather jackets and out-of-line snark, you couldn’t agree more.

Yes, this is a revamp and repost from my main account xD. Like I said, this was self indulgence to the peak 😩 I'm a tad whipped for snarky boy Jung Wooyoung 😀

Do lemme know what you think ^_^. xoxo, A💕

Possibly interested parties: @aliceu @whiteprincessofnohr

(drop me an ask to be added or removed! )

#ateez #ateez imagines #ateez wooyoung #jung wooyoung #ateez smut #ateez scenarios #ateez x reader #wooyoung x reader #kpop #kpop imagines #kpop scenarios #ana.writes ateez #atz #atz x reader #atz imagines #atz smut

141 notes · View notes

nugnthopkns · 3 years

Text

dance me to the end of love (i)

word count: 4.3k

warnings: fem!oc, cursing, potential spoilers for the west wing if you've never seen the show

series masterpost: here

a/n: hi!! i am so incredibly happy to finally be putting this fic out into the world. it means an awful lot to me and i can't wait to share the little world i've created :)) x

Magdalene is content with where she’s ended up.

Denver is wonderful. Her friends are there, her cat is there, and it’s the perfect place for a fresh start. She arrived in the city nearly six years ago – a wide-eyed University of Denver freshman and has stayed put ever since. Her hometown of Aspen holds a few too many bad memories, but is close enough that she can return if an emergency calls for it. So far she hasn’t left, too engrossed in finishing her degree and moving on. There’s a job offer lined up with the university’s library upon graduation that Magdalene is ecstatic about. It means she gets to stay right where she is – where she’s comfortable.

☼☼☼☼

The sun might be shining as she exits her apartment building, but it’s cold for March. Magdalene pulls the thick scarf her best friend Bette got her for Christmas higher up her face and walks as quickly as possible to campus. There’s a brief meeting to attend with her advisor before grabbing lunch with Bette, and then her plan is to spend the rest of the day holed up in the library working on her thesis. It’s due in two weeks, with the defence in just over a month, and Magdalene is incredibly nervous. Though she’d gone through submitting her undergraduate thesis two years ago, presenting her master’s research was going to be a lot harder. She’s heard through the grapevine that the committees are being tough this year and she doesn’t want to fail.

Dr. Williams is waiting for her in his office with a smile on his face. He’s a tall man, with thin facial features and wire glasses that box him perfectly into the intimidating professor stereotype. “Miss Stevenson, please sit,” he gestures to the chair across from him.

“Gerald,” she sighs, “You can call me Magdalene, I don’t mind. Besides, it makes you quite the hypocrite if you insist I call you by your first name but you won’t use mine.” There’s no malice in her voice, just a decent amount of teasing.

The older man scoffs but concedes. “I suppose you’re right. Well then Magdalene, tell me, how are your final edits coming along?”

Magdalene spends nearly twenty minutes detailing all the elements she has tweaked since their last meeting, from the title to the citation style. She’s out of breath by the time she’s done, rambling at an impressive speed, and takes a big gasp of air while the professor mulls over her words. Dr. Williams doesn’t say anything, causing Magdalene to shift anxiously in her seat. “Sir, is there something wrong?”

He shakes his head. “Absolutely nothing,” he beams, “Everything is perfect. It’s a shame you don’t want to continue researching. You’d make a fabulous academic.”

The compliment makes Magdalene’s heart soar. It means a lot, especially coming from the person who has seen her cry over the oxford comma. “Thank you sir, but I belong in the practical realm. Someone has to file all the documents you obsessively scan.”

She leaves the building soon after, promising to stop by after she drops off the final draft in a few weeks. It’s a bit later than she expected and hopes Bette won’t be mad. There’s nothing the blonde hates more than poor time management, but Magdalene prays she’ll understand. It wasn’t that long ago and Bette was scheduling her own appointments with advisors on how to graduate. Barn Owl Book Company is located halfway between the school and her apartment, making it the perfect spot to meet. In addition to being a used book store, Barn Owl sports one of the best cafés in downtown Denver. Bette is perched delicately at her friend’s favourite seat, a bay window converted into a small nook, and typing furiously on her phone.

“Sorry I’m late,” Magdalene apologizes, “Williams talked a lot more than I expected him to.”

Bette looks up and smiles, shoving a cup in the other girl’s direction. “As always. How is he?”

Sliding into the booth, Magdalene fills her friend in on what’s been going on in their former professor’s life. Bette graduated with a minor in Classics, and it was Magdalene's major, but the former decided not to further her education and is instead doing full time charity work for the Colorado Avalanche. Her boyfriend Tyson is one of their star players, and the two of them are so smitten it makes Magdalene sick. Conversation quickly turns from school to life, which she’s grateful for.

“So,” Bette says, “Are you in for the trip this summer? I’ve got to confirm the reservation in a week or something.”

“I don’t know Bee, I'm going to be the new girl. Asking for time off like two months into the job would be rude.”

“Linny,” the blonde whines, “Please? I want you to come.”

Magdalene scowls. Bette knows just how much the nickname sours her mood but she chose to use it anyway. “Don’t call me that,” she snaps with quite a bite. “Can someone else take my spot if I decide not to go a little closer to the date?”

“Of course! Gravy said he’d fill an extra spot if one comes up so we don’t lose the deposit,” Bette blabs before trying to switch gears entirely. Magdalene cuts her off.

“Who’s Gravy?”

If her friend is exasperated by Magdalene’s lack of knowledge surrounding hockey, she doesn’t show it. Bette calmly explains that Gravy, who’s real name is Ryan, is a defenceman with the Avalanche and a good friend of Tyson’s. She also makes a point of mentioning that he’s single, to which Magdalene rolls her eyes. Bette has a masterplan for her life – which includes her best friend becoming romantically involved with an Avalanche player so the two of them can live the better half life together. As the best friend, Magdalene is constantly barraged with potential players who are looking to date. Once she went on a few dates with Mikko, but that ended fairly quickly when the two realized they were better as friends. Every time since she’s turned Bette down as gently as possible, not wanting to get involved with anyone. Her life is just starting, and Magdalene wants to be secure before settling down.

The conversation eventually shifts to what Magdalene plans to wear for both her thesis defence and graduation. Bette is fashion savvy, while Magdalene is decidedly not. Her everyday wardrobe consists of collared button-downs and sweater vests, which is supposedly never going to back a comeback, according to Bette at least. The blonde eventually wears Magdalene down, and secures a position as stylist for the graduation ceremony. There was an attempt at the thesis defence, but the other girl insists she needs to be as comfortable as possible on such a stressful occasion.

A glance to the clock on the opposite wall has Magdalene stretching her arms and giving an apologetic glance to her friend on the other side of the table. “I should go,” she says. “I’ve got to put in some serious work on my citations today, and you know Caligula doesn’t like it when I’m gone all day.”

Bette rolls her eyes, but there isn’t any frustration behind the gesture. “I swear to god Mags, your cat has more separation anxiety than I do. Speaking of, I’m supposed to pick Tyson up at the airport and I’m running behind.”

“Tell him I say hi,” Magdalene says as she wraps her arms around Bette for a quick hug.

The two girls part ways on the sidewalk, with Magdalene heading back to campus and Bette sliding into the sleek Audi she shares with her boyfriend. Headphones find their way into her ears, and Magdalene listens to a random comedy podcast. Once tucked safely inside the library she’ll put on her favourite lo-fi playlist and concentrate, but for now she just enjoys the funny anecdotes of stories past.

It’s quiet in the library for a Tuesday, though Magdalene isn’t complaining. Her favourite table, the one she swears up and down is the only reason she ever gets anything done, is open, and she all but sprints to place her bag on the worn leather chair. While setting up her work station a few of the librarians come over to offer their congratulations for her upcoming job. News certainly travels fast around here, Magdalene thinks, but accepts their generosity with a smile on her face. They leave her alone soon enough and the tedious work of double checking the formatting of every single citation in the sixty-five page paper begins.

Hours pass, and Magdalene stays working in the library until as late as she possibly can. Caligula is going to start to worry about the length of her absence soon and his anxiety response of knocking over plants is not a mess she feels like cleaning up. She packs up her laptop and walks the short distance home as fast as possible.

“Little boots, I’m home,” Magdalene parrots in a sing-song voice as she slips her jacket off her shoulders and onto the hanger. At the sound of his nickname, the small cat bounds into the entryway. “Hi darling, did you miss me?” Magdalene gets an obnoxiously loud purr in response that she takes it as a yes. She reaches down to pick up the tiny animal before continuing further into the apartment, scratching behind his ears as she does so. The two of them settle into the respectably sized couch, where they stay for the rest of the night watching reruns of The West Wing before Magdalene falls asleep.

☼☼☼☼

“You fucking did it!” Bette shrieks as she bounds towards her best friend. Magdalene braces herself for the oncoming assault, and manages to keep them both upright after Bette jumps into her arms.

Her thesis defence had just finished, and the committee found Magdalene a worthy candidate for the Master of Information Science qualification. The presentation itself was open to the public, so Bette and Tyson sat in the front row to support Magdalene, but were escorted out for the conversation that followed. The two girls had developed a code so the news could be shared in a subtle way, though Bette threw the original plan out the window as soon as she saw her friend give a sneaky thumbs up when the conference room door opened.

“Congrats Mags,” Tyson says sincerely, doing his best not to add to the growing spectacle, but Magdalene can tell he wants to give her a bone crushing hug.

“Thank you,” she smiles softly, “And thank you guys for coming. It means a lot.” As two of her closest friends, both Bette and Tyson know that her family situation is rocky at best, and having them act as her support system means more than she’ll ever be able to articulate.

The couple shares a knowing look before engulfing their friend in a hug. “We’re always going to be here for you,” Bette whispers, “No matter what.”

Magdalene’s smile is so genuine it crinkles her eyes as she wraps her arms around Bette and Tyson’s shoulders and leads them out the door and into the sunshine. The group continues to the parking lot, where they climb into Tyson’s car and drive off campus in the direction of Magdalene’s favourite restaurant. Though she had tried to convince her friends they didn’t need to celebrate, she failed, and Magdalene soon finds herself laughing hysterically over a plate of carbonara as Tyson tells a story about the shenanigans the team got up to on their last road trip.

There’s a game tonight, and Bette has somehow convinced her into attending. Magdalene knows she should go, expand her social horizons a little, but all she wants to do is curl up in bed and sleep for three weeks. Her one condition is that she can go home straight after the game without being guilted into following the group to whatever nightclub they’ll celebrate the win or drink away the loss in. Tyson has to get ready so he drops the two girls off at Magdalene's apartment complex. She’s in charge of getting Bette to the rink, and she’ll leave with her boyfriend after the game.

Once inside the confines of her home, Magdalene promptly lies on the floor. “Holy shit,” she sighs, “I did it. I fucking did it.”

“You did!” Bette says as she lies down beside her best friend. “I’m so fucking proud of you, and Tyson is too. Even if he won’t tackle you in public to prove it.”

The comment garners a laugh from Magdalene, which alerts Caligula to the presence of others in the apartment. He pads over the rug currently being occupied by two adults, and snuggles into the small space between them. Bette and Magdalene continue to lay there, petting the cat and looking back fondly on all the times Magdalene called her friend in tears because she didn’t think she could push herself any farther. Bette was always there to pick up the slack, editing whatever section Magdalene was working on or to bring over a hot meal. Her support earned her the top spot in the acknowledgements section of the thesis.

Ball Arena is already crawling with people when Magdalene pulls into the small lot for player’s and their families. Normally she parks with the general public, but Bette insists they watch this game from the better halves box, and these spaces are closer to that entrance.

“Stop dragging your feet,” the blonde chastises as Magdalene takes her time cutting the engine. “I want to get a glass of rosé before they sell out.”

Sighing, Magdalene follows her orders. “Don’t you have a special bar in the box?” she asks while locking the car.

“Yeah, but the other girls are absolute fiends. They’ll drink it all before we get there with no remorse.”

The girls climb the stairs to the better halves box, Bette chatting excitedly about the game, but Magdalene stops just before the entrance. She’s met most of the others on multiple occasions and has nothing to worry about, but she can’t help but feel anxious. Her life is so different than everyone else’s in the space, and it feels like cheating when she’s there because she isn’t romantically involved with anyone on the roster. Bette likes to joke that she’s her better half, but Magdalene knows it’s said just to calm her nerves.

“It’ll be fine,” Bette whispers while squeezing her hand, “And if you get too uncomfortable we can find some seats in the nosebleeds.”

Once inside Magdalene’s nerves dissipate. Most of the other wives and girlfriends pay her no mind, but the ones that are especially close to Bette congratulate her on passing her defence. It warms her heart a little, and the small group Magdalene finds herself in settles down to watch the game unfold.

It’s a fairly intense one between Colorado’s division rival St. Louis. Both teams are fighting for first place in the conference, and a win for the Avalanche would put them three points ahead of the Blues instead of one. Players from both sides are amped up, and more than once a scrum at the net has turned into a dog-pile. Colorado is outplaying the other team, but have still managed to find themselves a goal short heading into the final period. At the buzzer Tyson takes the face-off and is immediately shoved by a member of the opposite team. He goes down hard, and Bette squeezes Magdalene’s hand so tightly she fears it will lose blood flow. Silence falls over the arena as Tyson doesn’t immediately get up. The inside of lip finds its way between her teeth and Magdalene bites down hard, worried about her friend. She’s so focussed on Tyson that she doesn’t notice a fight breaking out.

“Holy shit, Gravy is going to town!”

The remark is made by someone Magdalene recognizes as Gabe Landeskog’s wife, and it makes her peel her eyes off of Bette’s worried features and scan the ice for some action. Sure enough, a very tall man is laying right hooks to someone who looks significantly smaller than him on the Avalanche blue line. The referees let the fight continue until Tyson drags himself off the ice and onto the bench before separating the men and throwing them in the penalty box. Magdalene can tell words are still being exchanged from both sides of the glass, but she’s more focussed on the fact Tyson doesn’t make his way to the dressing room – a good sign that allows Bette to drop her hand and let out a shaky breath.

Nothing of great importance happens until MacKinnon ties the game with seven minutes left. It happens while the Avalanche are short handed, and the goal seems to light a fire beneath the team. Magdalene may not know much about hockey, but she’s smart enough to notice the insane amount of energy all the players suddenly have. Time ticks by slowly and before she realizes it, the final face-off is taking place. Luckily it’s in the St. Louis zone and won by Colorado. The puck is tipped back to the same player who got in the fight for Tyson, Gravy, and he one times it right into the back of the net. The buzzer goes off not a second later, and the entire team piles on top of the player who just won them the game.

Bette and Magdalene join in the shrieks of the other partners, jumping from their seats in excitement. Eventually they make their way down to the hallway outside the locker room and lean against the brick while they wait for Tyson.

“You don’t have to stay,” Bette insists, “I can wait by myself.”

Magdalene shakes her head. “No way. I want to make sure he’s okay too. What good is a friend with a black eye?”

The other girl laughs at her friend’s stubbornness but doesn’t shoo her away. Once Magdalene has made a decision it’s hard to get her to sway from it, and Bette knows better than to push. Besides, who is she to deny her friend a bit more social interaction? Magdalene has spent the past six years practically holed up in the library and deserves to stand in a crowded hallway.

The friends chat idly while they wait, with Magdalene sharing some of the most ridiculous questions she got asked in her defence interview that morning. She’s mid story when Tyson exits the dressing flanked by a man dressed sharply in all black.

“Hey guys,” Tyson greets, dipping his head to place a kiss to Bette’s cheek before doing an elaborately goofy handshake with Magdalene.

“Good game baby,” Bette compliments sweetly. She then turns her attention to the boy standing awkwardly on the fringes. “You too Graves.”

He smiles shyly, muttering out a small thanks. It’s then he seems to notice the final member of the group, and offers his hand in greeting. “Hi, I’m Ryan.”

“Nice to meet you. I’m Magdalene.”

She puts two and two together on the walk to her car. The Ryan Magdalene just met is the same who will take her spot on the trip, fought someone in Tyson’s defence, and scored the game winning goal. Though they’ve only said a few words, she likes him. He seems genuine, and those people are the rarest to find.

☼☼☼☼

Magdalene is walking across a graduation stage for the final time in two days. However, she can’t find anyone to take the third ticket. The University of Denver has a stupid rule where all graduates must have three guests attend the ceremony. Bette and Tyson are obviously occupying two of Magdalene’s seats, but she’s having trouble filling the third.

“I can ask Tys if one of the guys is free,” Bette shrugs. The two girls are sitting in the window of Barn Owl drinking iced lattes and discussing what Magdalene should wear to the ceremony.

“It’s okay,” Magdalene says, “I don’t want to bother anyone. Maybe I’ll just ask June.”

Her friend’s eye roll so far back into her head Magdalene isn’t sure they won’t stay there. “You can’t ask your boss to watch you graduate Mags! Besides, Gravy owes Tyson a favour and was already looking for something to do. I’m sure he won’t mind wasting a few hours as long as he gets drinks out of it.”

There isn’t a better option, so even though she barely knows the guy, Magdalene agrees. “Make sure he gets this?" she sighs, handing her friend an envelope with a single ticket in it. "I have to go. Caligula should be done at the vet soon.”

“Say hello to little boots for me,” Bette giggles as she waves goodbye.

Hours later, tucked into her couch with a glass of wine in one hand and Caligula playing with the fingers on the other, Magdalene realizes she invited a complete stranger to her graduation and how that could be a terrible idea. Sure, Ryan sounds like a great guy from the way Bette and Tyson talk about him, but he’s only ever spoken three words to her. Since that game she’s gone out with the team a few times, but the man with the piercing stare is yet to make an appearance. Magdalene considers that perhaps he’s more like her than his profession gives him credit for, and she feels a twinge of guilt about being worried he’d cause a scene at the ceremony.

There isn’t any more time for her to fret over the third and final guest on the list. At the last minute Bette decides there’s nothing in Magdalene’s closet that’s suitable for her to wear, so a trip to a local second-hand store ensues. While it’s nice that her friend has taken their carbon footprints into consideration, Magdalene wishes it didn’t have to happen an hour and a half before the ceremony is supposed to start.

“We have to be there in twenty minutes Bette,” she frets, tapping her foot nervously against the tile flooring.

If they can’t find whatever it is Bette’s looking for, Magdalene will have to walk across the stage in denim cutoffs and a faded t-shirt with Neil Young’s face on it, which is something she’s hoping to avoid at all costs.

“Have no fear, Mags,” she says with a knowing glint in her eye, “For I have found it.” Bette holds up a hanger that is holding a beautiful long sleeve dress adorned with a whimsical floral print.

Magdalene can’t help the gasp that escapes from her. “It’s beautiful,” she breathes, “But let’s hope it fits.”

The dress does in fact fit, and the workers are kind enough to let her wear it out of the store. Bette drives at a speed that might not be the safest to travel at in downtown Denver, but she gets to the school with minutes to spare. She shoos her friends out of the car so she can go pick up Tyson and Ryan, and Magdalene checks in with little hassle. The pool of graduates is fairly small, so she chats with a few classmates while they wait for the call to put their gowns on. Time passes quicker than expected, and soon Magdalene is being directed to her seat. She zones out while the dean gives a congratulatory speech and they go through the first few names. At one point she looks backwards into the crowd to find Bette, Tyson, and Ryan all giving her a thumbs up. The nerves she didn’t even know she had settle.

A faculty member signals for Magdalene’s row to stand up, and she smoothes her dress before dutifully following the person in front of her. Giddiness bubbles in her stomach at the thought of being done school forever. A hand from the stage crew give a cue, and Magdalene appears on the stage as her accomplishment is broadcast through the microphone.

“Magdalene Stevenson is being awarded a Masters in Information Science in Archival Studies and Records Management.” It feels so good to finally be finished that she lets a tear slip as she shakes the hand of the staff member handing her the package with her diploma in it.

The rest of the ceremony passes in a blur, and before Magdalene knows it her friends are approaching to congratulate her. Bette and Tyson wrap her in a tight hug, murmuring praise in her ears. Ryan stands awkwardly to the side before Bette drags him into the celebration. The four of them stand in the courtyard where the ceremony was for much longer than needed. Bette is crying enough to refill Sloan Lake if there is ever a drought and is yet to let go of Magdalene’s figure.

It’s only when the event staff ask them to leave so they can tear down the stage does Magdalene turn to leave campus for the last time as a student. She’ll be back in a few weeks as an employee, but deep down she knows this is the last time she’ll ever feel such a deep connection to the place.

“Victory is mine, victory is mine! Great day in the morning people, victory is mine!” Magdalene yells, quoting Josh Lyman as she skips down the path towards Bette’s car.

Both Bette and Tyson are confused at the sudden outburst, not knowing what she’s talking about, but Ryan responds without missing a beat. “Should I bring you all the muffins and bagels in the land?” His response doesn’t clear anything up, but it elicits a giant smile from Magdalene, who laughs and nods in confirmation.

Sitting in the back of Bette’s Audi, on the way to a graduation party she’s supposed to know nothing about, Magdalene decides that she wants to get to know Ryan Graves better. From what she’s garnered from Bette and Tyson he’s a class act, standing up for friends and giving good advice. He likes The West Wing and showed up to a stranger’s graduation, so how bad can he be?

☼☼☼☼

additional notes: see what magdalene's graduation dress looks like here // the quote from the west wing is from 1.02 if you were curious!

☼☼☼☼

taglist: @scrunchmakar @marcoscandellas @toplinetommy (add yourself to the taglist!)

#ryan graves imagine #ryan graves x oc #ryan graves fic #colorado avalanche imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #cwrites #dmtteol

113 notes · View notes

annaofthenorthernlights · 3 years

Text

Cruising beyond sunrise

This is my fanfic-contribution to the Frozen Fanzine Volume 5: Summer lovin - organised by @frozines! Hope you enjoy - happy frozine everyone ❤️

Pairing: Kristanna, modern AU setting

Rating: G

Summary: Anna and Kristoff set out for their individual summer jobs on a cruising ship along Norway´s coastline. Meeting "accidently" on the way to Hamburg´s harbour, the journey spins off "kristanna-slow burn-style..."

Chapter 1 / 4 (find the complete fic on AO3)

Somewhere in Southern Germany

For Anna, the invitation for this summer job came right in time. All her family would not be there during those long following weeks. Her parents were abroad on business reason, and Elsa had decided to join the summer camp of the philharmonic orchestra. She was a fabulous harp player after all. But then, Anna felt lonely. After breaking up with that unfaithful brat of a boyfriend… It had already been so many weeks since the disastrous night, where she had walked right in the middle of things, with him being served in the most intimate ways by his secretary… Yack! Anna´s eyes still filled with tears of fury and disappointment when the scenery flashed back before her inner eye.

Her suitcase was finally packed, and all her music devices sorted and stored neatly within her luggage. Anna was ready to depart and embark on the summer trip of her life! If only she wouldn´t feel so lonely… Ah, well, soon she would be surrounded by lots of people and fun programs. She was ready to go!

Somewhere else in Southern Germany

Normally, Kristoff would not travel inland by plane. But the ticket was paid by the shipping company, and he was kind of short on time. So, he would accept the offer and was on his way to Munich airport. He had mastered his finals and until starting his new job, he could just as well earn some money with this summer occupation. It might be a good start off into his career. Still, being surrounded by numerous people all day long, that was not his vision of a quiet and peaceful summer. With a sigh, he stuffed the ticket in his travel bag.

His suitcase was packed, and all his literature supply sorted neatly within his luggage. Kristoff was ready to risk the wave of vacation feeling washing over him.

***

The flight from Munich to Hamburg would take approx. 1 hour. Already they were delayed due to rain and maintenances still going on. Kristoff tried to relax in his seat, but then this size of airplane was not built for big guys like him. He tried to stretch and stretch his legs into the aisle without hindering the still boarding passengers. He desperately hoped they would take off soon, so he could leave this cocoon like cage after their landing. So, he flicked through the plane magazine to distract himself, when he noticed a person stopping just by his side. The woman was about to store her bag just atop of his head. She was small, tiptoed to the upmost maximum and stretched to the extent that Kristoff thought she was about to do pull-ups while dangling at the storage box. Some sort of moaning and sighing noises came to his ears, but nobody seemed obliged to help the tiny lady.

“You need help up there?” he asked, peering up from his seat.

“Huh?” the young woman glanced down between her arms and smiled at him. “That´s very kind of you, thanks, but I manage.” She then somehow shrank back to her normal size and stood there, with a shy grin and pulled up shoulders.

“I´m sorry, but may I…?” She pointed to the window seat.

“Oh, yes, sorry.” Kristoff made some efforts to peel himself out of his seat. For some reason, he seemed stuck. This was ridiculous and he swore under his breath, in his mind strangling the architect of this seating construction.

“Oh, you know what? Don´t bother yourself. Just hang on.” And with that, before Kristoff realised what was happening, the young lady started to climb over his legs, holding on with one hand to the backrest of his seat and with the other to the seat in front of them. Within a jiffy she´d swung herself with ease into the seat next to him and wriggled herself into a cosy position. Of course, she was small and delicate of figure. She could move in here like a little fish in the water. For a short moment, Kristoff envied the small person next to him. But then, excuse me, how rude was her behaviour. He couldn´t help to clear his throat and then stare back at his magazine. What else was there to do?

“Oh no!” The girl exclaimed.

“You´re alright?” Kristoff asked vaguely, glancing over briefly.

“I left my mobile up in my bag, and I thought of listening to some music.” She gnawed on her lips and was about to get up.

“Would you mind? I´m so sorry. But you don´t need to bother yourself again. I can just as well…”

“No. No. That´s totally fine, really!” Kristoff pushed himself out of his seat as fast as he could before someone could climb over him again for the second time within two minutes…

“Oh thanks! That´s so kind!”

After the energetic neighbour had plumped herself back into her window seat, Kristoff turned his attention to his book that he had fished out of his bag before sitting back again.

After the plane had taken off, the flight continued in a peaceful manner, for the girl had plugged her earpads and was listening to music all the time. Only the snack break would stop her from napping with little snores or then happily humming along to the songs. According to the tunes that emerged from her lips, she had to be listening to ABBA.

It was hard concentrating that way, but after a while Kristoff got used to it and for some reason the humming didn´t bother him as much anymore.

And when the plane finally landed, he was off as fast as possible to escape that tiny place and the crowd of people that were all around him.

***

Anna stood at the docks in awe. She had never been on a ship like this one or seen anything like it from close up. Excitement filled her and the thought of being part of this adventure for the next two weeks. The change of tapestry would do her good, she was sure. Since that dreadful time of new year, Anna hadn´t been able to go anywhere or participate in any activity really. The shock of catching Hans, cheating on her in such a horrifying way, had kept her ensnared for weeks. Her family hadn´t been of much help. Of course, they´d been helpless as well. In their ways, leaving her alone, for a good reason, Anna understood them. Finally, she had found relief and regained her composure by repeatedly talking to her aunt Gerda, who had shown her so much appreciative value and heart-care!

“Hi there. Are you alright?”

The friendly voice next to her interrupted her thoughts. Anna turned to face a lovely woman with big almond shaped eyes and ebony skin. Her hair was an impressive bunch of black, neatly combed into a braid that fell all down over her chest.

“Oh, hi. I´m sorry. I´ve never been on a ship like this and had to take a long look first.”

“Yes. It´s quite impressive, isn´t it. By the way, I´m Honeymaren.”

“Oh, I´m Anna. Nice to meet you. Are you going to work here, too?”

“Yes, I´m the 1st hostess and here to help if you have any questions. So, what are you going to do aboard?”

“Me? Oh, I´m here as a fitness instructress.”

“Ah. That is fantastic. Welcome aboard Arendelle lights! Come on, I will show you around and sign you in, alright?”

Anna was so grateful to have met Honeymaren. First, she seemed so kind and then, Anna would have a safe contact in case of an emergency on her behalf. She was about to get a bit nervous, though. If only she would not mess this up and make a fairly good job here!

Her cabin was alongside the other staff lodges, and she loved it. It was cosy, furnished and the bullseye-window was so cute!

The passengers would check in only the next morning, and for tonight there would be some sort of welcome party for all the ship-staff. Anna was looking forward to this event immensely. She desperately hoped to find some nice people to hang out with for the next two weeks and not being left on her own.

***

“Good evening, Dr. Bjorgman. Welcome aboard Arendelle lights. I hope you´re satisfied with your cabin and all?”

“Yes. Thank you. All fine.”

“That´s great. Have you met the captain yet?”

“Yes, I have. Thank you.”

“Wonderful. Well anyway. Enjoy your stay aboard and if you need anything or have any requests, don´t hesitate to contact me. Alright?”

“Yes. Thank you. As a matter of fact, that might well be the case since this is my first cruising tour you know.”

“Ah. Don´t worry. You´re not alone there. Our fitness instructress is new to this , too. You two might just as well stick together then?” Honeymaren smiled and winked sheepishly.

Dr. Bjorgman didn´t get it but was wondering how long he was supposed to endure this event, when the hostess put a hand onto his arm and waved with the other.

“Oh. There she is. Just hang on a second, I´ll introduce you. Hey Anna! Over here!”

Kristoff followed Honeymaren´s gestures and spotted an auburn-haired girl, who waved back into their direction excitingly. The humming girl! She hurried towards them, stopping abruptly upon seeing him. Her eyes widened and she pressed her lips together, pulling up her shoulders while stepping up to them.

“Hi there!” Anna lifted a shy hand to greet them both, constantly looking back and forth between Honeymaren and the man standing next to her.

“Hi Anna. May I introduce? This is Dr. Bjorgman. Dr. Bjorgman, this is Anna, our fitness instructress. You two might have business to talk?” With that, Honeymaren left them to themselves, she was needed somewhere else.

Silence.

“So, I hear this is your first cruising trip, too?” Kristoff asked awkwardly. Meeting the sportive lady again had not been on his mind to be honest.

“Yes, indeed. Goodness… Had I known.” Anna put a hand to her chest and shook her head, obviously embarrassed. “Seriously, I´m so sorry for bothering you on that flight and isn´t it funny, we sat right next to each other? But I was so nervous getting here. I mean excitingly nervous, not nervously nervous, you know?”

Her expression seemed truly apologetical, but friendly and enthusiastic.

No. He would know nothing about the feeling of being excitingly nervous.

“Yeah, sure. Don´t worry.”

They were standing, looking at the people mingling and grabbing drinks from the bar.

“Would you know what we are supposed to do now?” Anna asked uncertainly, gnawing on her lips.

She was nervous after all.He could tell.

“Frankly, I don´t know. For my part, I don´t like such functions. But I guess it´s part of the job.”

“Oh. I love meeting people. I´m just kind of unsure where to start.”

Why not getting her over to that bunch of people and then take a leave?

“We could grab a drink at the bar and join the party?” offered Kristoff with a sigh. Anna nodded feverishly and smiled at him, grateful for his suggestion.

So, when they got to the bar, the barkeeper greeted them with a friendly nod, offering them a “welcome drink”.

“Hellloooo!” A cheering voice sang into their ears from behind and Kristoff and Anna turned to look at a rather little fellow with light hair and big eyes. He grinned broadly and shook their hands enthusiastically.

“Hi! I´m Olaf and I love meeting you all!”

“Oh. How nice! And what are you doing here?” Anna beamed upon meeting someone so refreshing.

Olaf´s face lit up even more at Anna´s remark and he explained, “I´m responsible for the evening entertainment. And youare…?”

“Oh. I´m Anna. I´m the fitness instructress.”

“Aha. That´s lovely. And who is that funny looking grumpy head?” Olaf leaned towards Anna, conspiringly glancing in Kristoff´s direction.

“Oh. That´s… Dr. Bjorgman.” Anna shrugged, unsure of how to address the medical crew member respectfully. But Olaf wasn´t satisfied.

“Gosh, no. That´s too complicated. We are family here!” He waved a hand demandingly at Kristoff. The latter sensed his chances, repressed an amused chuckle, but smirked at the little one.

“It´s Kristoff.”

With that, he waved his goodbyes, wished them a nice evening, and left.

Maybe this wouldn´t be so bad after all. So far, they all seemed to be a friendly bunch of guys. And Anna was safely left in good hands with this Olaf.

This way, Kristoff felt less guilty… If you like to read on... find the complete fic on AO3

#Frozine #frozine volume 5 summer lovin #kristanna #fanfic #modern AU setting #summer jobs #Anna #Kristoff

45 notes · View notes

couchpotatoaniki · 3 years

Text

Idol!ATEEZ: Their s/o secretly writes fanfics pt.2

A/N: This was a request from someone who wanted to read their reactions to dirty fanfics *wiggles brows* but cba coming up with more backstories, so this’ll be a continuation of the first reaction

Tag list: @lovelyrose014-blog sorry this took so long :((

WARNINGS: swearing, mature content, heavily suggestive

Part One

Kim Hongjoong:

Hongjoong made no effort to hide that he read your stories. It was as he promised; the first time he read them was not the last.

He’d been filling up his rare breaks with your works, powerful words contrasting your timid nature and no matter how many times he indulged himself in your crazy mind, Hongjoong never ceased to be amazed.

You had more sides to you than he ever could imagined.

Although, there was one thing he put off for quite some time now, and that would be reading your more popular fanfics. The fan favourites. After all, being the leader, he should know what his fans like, and as your boyfriend he should know what you crave.

Hongjoong was a smart guy despite the goofy act he put on--very similar to your intelligence and geeky-yet-quiet nature. He knew that you wanted to keep him away from the dark side of your account, not wanting to scare him away (which he would never let happen). Hence why he hadn’t gone on it since he wanted to respect your wishes to some extent.

Until now.

Hongjoong swears it was curiosity, nothing more, but deep down he knew. He still needed to see that side of you, the side you deem acceptable for a whole world of strangers to see but not him.

Drove him mad.

But he was still in denial as he chanted in his head that this was only for research purposes. Bullshit.

Late at night, when pretty much everyone had gone home and he still had some work left to do, Hongjoong decided to take a well-deserved break, lying on his sofa as he scrolled through his phone.

He was doing what he had planned--he was finally doing it and nothing made the adrenaline rush faster through his veins. He clicked on the one which had the most reads, the one that was the most popular among anything you wrote, and from the title, it appeared innocent enough.

Maybe this wasn’t the one...

Then again, you were adamant that he never read it.

“Never hurt to try...” Hongjoong mumbled, despite being the only one in the sound-proof room. He clicked on it, anticipation making him restless.

Long chapter, as usual, and everything started out fine enough. No sign of anything, nothing suggestive at all.

What was the big deal about?

The next few chapters were of a similar feel. Sweet, gentle, fluffy. But he couldn’t put his phone down, something about this story had him...unsettled. It was nothing like your usually ones--with sadistic characters and an intricate plotline.

No. This had him slightly confused. It felt too kind.

Then he carried on. And then he realised.

That was exactly your intention.

The filter you had put over the first few chapters was slowly startling to peel away, into something more twisted.

Hongjoong buzzed off this, knowing exactly that the earlier chapters were a trap, a false sense of security. How you managed to poison every reader slowly, like your words were mercury.

By the time he got to the first smut chapter in the series, he was already consumed, work forgotten . Every word felt like it sucked out a part of his soul, and the heavy themes in the scenes had him in an uncomfortable situation of rather tight jeans.

Right now, all Hongjoong wanted was you. He needed you. To do all those things you wrote, to be there with him and feel the things he was feeling.

Luckily, you were always awake at this time of night.

Just a phone call away.

Park Seonghwa:

Although he loved your shower time, there was one habit that Seonghwa didn’t like and that was you leaving your notebooks everywhere. It made his daily cleaning harder than it should’ve been.

Never did he look through them, caring too much about not invading your privacy (save for a few months ago where he accidently found out about your fanfic account on AO3). But today was a stressful day already.

All he wanted right now was to lie down with you and watch some cheesy romcoms, accompanied by some snacks. Hongjoong, ever the perfectionist, was under more stress than usual and that meant all the other members were too.

Seonghwa was the nurturing mother, and even he felt like he lacked the energy to be as such with the way things were going right now--a comeback just around the corner.

So, yes, the tall boy was quite peeved today. He needed his charger. He needed you. But you were taking your damn time in the shower and he had to pick up all your damn notebooks from the most random places.

What even was it about these notebooks that you had to buy--or try to buy--a new one every time you entered a shop? Seonghwa never understood your love for them as he had only linked the devilish little thing to his work, where Hongjoong would be composing or writing lyrics.

The last thing he needed right now was something to remind him of his job.

The stress continued to build as this argumentative thoughts accumulated in his head, causing him to drop the hardback in his hands. “Fuck’s sake,” he growled, too pissed off at the moment to notice that your book had oh-so-conveniently opened up.

When he did, however, his fiery anger cooled down at the page, which had a few words on it. Luckily for him, your handwriting was fairly neat (unlike your normal habits) so he could read your little notes.

Phrases, sentences, ideas, the plot line in general, that’s what he got from a first glance. Maybe he could have a peek, seeing as though he was exerting a lot of energy recently.

The words, the plot, everything on that page was something he did not expect. It was smut.

Surely his innocent sweetheart wouldn’t be writing those, right? He gave you the benefit of the doubt when he found out about your fanfics. But you were a sweet girl, and he had always thought you mind was as pure as your heart was.

Then again, no one’s heart is truly pure, and it wasn’t the first time you had been tainted by him.

His eyes scanned your words, finding that it was somewhat vanilla and gentle.

A sigh escaped past his lips when he found that you were still his soft-hearted princess.

Then he noticed it was an old entry. Flicked through the pages and saw that the smut scenes progressively got more frequent and dabbled a little more in the dark side of things.

His heart plummeted. Not just because your innocence was slowly peeling away, but because he too found himself getting a little interested by it. Especially one of the last entries of that notebook, where he found himself blushing hard enough to turn his normal skin to resemble that of rubies.

Yet, he couldn’t stop.

That was until he heard your voice yelling, "Seonghwa!"

Eyes like those caught in headlights, his large hands shut the book with lightning speed. But you had already caught him snooping.

"What are you doing with my notebooks?" You cheeks a dusty rouge from both the hot water and embarrassment, you snatched away the book from his hands.

"N-Nothing! It fell and opened up and I just..." He sighed, afraid that he'd already broken your trust. "I'm really sorry..."

Exhaling softly when you saw Seonghwa looking like some sort of scolded puppy, you reached on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. Calms him down a little.

“What,” you cleared your throat to rid your voice of fear, “what did you read?”

Now how was he going to play this? Was he going to lie and say it was only one page, or would he say that he had a peruse through the whole thing? As you had caught him already, it would not be a bad idea to tell the truth. “Um...bits and bobs. Just skipped through, really. I’m sorry.”

Smiling softly, albeit a little awkwardly, you patted his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s fine, I just... didn’t... expect you to... find out this way.”

He chuckled nervously. “Well, I’ve know for about two weeks now, about your... writing.”

“What?!”

Jeong Yunho:

One problem that you have, is that now Yunho knew you wrote fanfics, you became sloppy with hiding it. Not like there was a real need to because--as mentioned--he knew about it. How you loved to write thrillers and suspense and all there strange wacky things you’d find on a documentary about dangerous people.

Though that didn’t mean you never wrote other things as well.

Your works were obviously for a certain age and above (not like the warnings you put matter because the underage ones read it anyway), so writing the occasional smut was normal for you.

In fact, you were comfortable with it. Your personal experience with Yunho, combined with the ones you read online, all fuelled your creativity. Unfortunately, now that you became more open, Yunho had more opportunities to read what you wrote.

Not like it mattered much, you thought, because the words in your google docs were pretty much ineligible from the phrases only you could decode.

Sadly, when it came to smuts (what you wanted in them and what you didn’t), there wasn’t really a way to hide what you were talking about.

So when your tall and rather innocent boyfriend took a sneak peak at your latest entry, he was smacked in the face with the bullet points on there:

Fake dating AU

Cunnilingus

Blindfolds

Size kink

Hand kink

Sir kink

Power play

Complacent sub

(Because for some goddamn reason, every Yunho smut I’ve seen had either a hand kink or size kink...not that I’m complaining tho--)

Was this the stuff you were into? Because he certainly never never knew it. Your sex life with him had been somewhat vanilla due to the fact it only recently started and both of you were still a little too shy to branch out and dabble in other things yet.

His only thoughts until he next saw you were about this. If you were channelling your frustrations into your writing, then he could help you, right? After all, he wasn’t against trying this stuff out. It was a learning experience he was willing to go through. For you.

So when you came back from work, he sat you down on the bed, very nervous with his large hands engulfing your own. Concern would be a drastic understatement.

“Y/N?” You hummed in reply, now thoroughly scared. “I just wanted to let you know... that I’m not afraid of...expanding our experiences and neither should you be.”

Your heart dropped into the abyss of your stomach. “Y-Yunho, are you breaking up with me?”

“Wait, what?” The confusion of this situation seemed rather familiar. “No, that’s not what I’m saying. I just...” he bit his lip, still quite shy. He really didn’t know how to say this outright.

So he showed you instead.

As your eyes fell on the document of your plan for the next smut scene you had to write, your face dropped. Horror was evident in every part of your expression and he could see that.

“Yunho, I--”

“Look, there’s nothing wrong with you wanting to try some of this,” he said, before bashfully looking out the same window you had when you had been discovered. “Besides... I wouldn’t object.”

Now that the both of your faces were redder than roses, the air had become slightly more...still and heavy.

“Listen, Yunho, just so you know, I don’t often write my own preferences. But I suppose trying new things is a bad idea...”

Kang Yeosang:

Almost a year had passed since your boyfriend had found out about your writing (through your clumsy cousin, no less) and you were careful as to what you showed him.

He often helped you through tough times like writer’s block, and understood your strange little habits. Even threw you an idea once in while whenever you were struggling to think of something or even took you out--restaurants, landmarks, whatever would help.

Yeosang was looking after you.

But now? Now, he pampered you.

That had you lowering your guard. He was being so kind, so why not let him read more?

Here’s ‘why not’:

Because he kept pushing his limits. Yeosang and you never had done anything, despite the fact that both of you were living together--by your request, since you had been in quite a few bad relationships where sex was a major factor. So, for the past two years, Yeosang had been alone in his endeavours.

All his intention was to find out what you were into. That was it, he swears. Thought it might at least curb the growing need to have you begging under him--or above him--just have a small glimpse as to what was in store. Maybe even have them as company when he really needed you.

Mission Impossible, is what this felt like, buttering you up, making you feel safe and comfortable (this came naturally since he always wanted you to feel this way with him, horny or not). You were like a fortress, always giving him more but not the stuff that he needed.

So he tried the same tactic he used to get you confess.

Truth or Dare (alone, obviously).

“Seriously? Last time we did it like this, you found out my rather embarrassing secret.”

“Just answer,” he pushed, watching you carefully as you climbed into bed next to him.

“Okay... truth,” you mumbled as you buried your body between his arm and chest.

“How about ‘dare’ this time?”

Your lips released a tired chuckled. “That’s not how this works, Yeosang...” But after a long few minutes of silence, you caved into his request. “Okay, fine. Dare,” you grumbled after saying something along the lines of, “if you wanted me to do something, then just ask.”

His lips brushed against the lobe of your ear, sending electric shocks down your spine. “I dare you to send me one of your smut fics.”

‘Surprised’ wasn’t really the word you would use to describe the immense shock that hit you like a train. “No.”

“Can’t go back on a dare.”

“But that’s even more embarrassing than having you read my normal fanfics...”

“No, it isn’t. Not to me, at least.”

“Yeosang,” you whined but as it became more and more clear that he would not give up as time passed on, you caved once more. Hesitant, you pulled out your phone to scroll through your works. What was the best one to send to him, you had no idea. “Can I at least ask why?”

“Because I want to get to know you more. All of you...” That one sentence had you more excited than you’d be willing to admit.

After all, it wasn’t just Yeosang who felt alone at nights (and sometimes days) for the past two years. Arguably, it was harder for you since you used to be very...active. Hence why you had such a selection to choose from right now--it was your outlet.

Perhaps it would be best to let him see the one that had you more bothered than anything after writing it--since he wanted to get to know that side of you as well.

Finally making a decision, you handed over your phone with bated breath. What would he think? Would he be weirded out? Would he not be into any of it?

For the boy, however, it was a completely different story; he was too into it. The more he read on, the worse his boner got until he looked physically uncomfortable.

Immediately seeing the discomfort on his face, it was as if your worries became reality. Hand reached out to snatch the phone from his hand but his reflexes were much quicker than yours, pulling the slab away as he kept on reading.

By the time he finished, his breathing was heavy and ragged.

This, sadly, had only made his situation worse. Only purpose this served was to make him crave you even more. Certainly didn’t help to have you leaning over him, soft, bra-less chest beneath thin, stretchy cotton of your shirt against his bare arm, trying to see if he was alright. Definitely had you concerned seeing his pained self.

“Are you okay?”

“Not really,” he humourlessly chuckled, “didn’t know it would affect me as much as it had...”

For some reason, you leaned further down and kissed him. Whether it was because of seeing his hooded eyes or feeling the tension in his muscles as he restrained himself against your body, you didn’t care. Relief was the first thing you felt, knowing that he was just as frustrated as you when you wrote it.

No, he was worse. You could tell by the feverish movement of his mouth against yours. You could tell by the harsh grip he had on your waist. You could tell by the stiffness poking your thigh.

Yeosang pulled away with as much willpower as he could muster, while your lips chased after his. “N-No, we can’t, remember?”

Huffing, you were thoroughly pissed off at the promise you made two years ago with him when you first started out dating. “Yeosang, look at me.”

His gaze was even more reluctant, knowing very well that it would be much more difficult to have the eyes he loved so much staring back at him with as much lust as he had clouding them. But he listened.

“That promise was there so I could get to know you and see if I want to commit to this relationship, long-term, and we’ve had two years to think it--which is long enough for me.” Each hand cupped his cheeks, pulling him closer for a peck since you couldn’t handle being that touch starved anymore. “So, screw me.”

Yeosang didn’t need to be told twice.

Choi San:

It had been a little over a month and San had still not dropped his admiration. Didn’t look as if that was going to change anytime soon either, especially with one of your recent updates.

Your current story had a lot of pent up sexual tension and all your readers (your boyfriend being no exception) were at the point of begging in the notes of each update.

Finally, you decided to take mercy on all the poor folks and finally write that one scene which had them crying with gratefulness at the end.

As it was a long-awaited scene, it had to live up to high expectations. While you could do the most tooth-rotting fluff ever, that wasn’t your style. This scene needed to fit the vibe of your series so the whole bit flowed nicely.

The problem was, everything you wrote was ‘too much’. Too much fluff. Too much kink. Too much basicness. Too much weirdness. Too much awkwardness. Too much cringiness.

Unfortunately, this put you in a bit of a pickle and you were close to losing your damn mind. On the other hand, San--the caring lover he was--had noticed. Wanted to do something nice for you, not just because he could clearly tell it was a bad case of writer’s block and he wanted to you to write more things he could read, but because it hurt him a little inside to see you this frustrated.

Requested a day of, which he got considering how hard he had been working, an spent that day as your personal servant. First up was breakfast in bed--fried egg (sunny side up), beans, buttered toast, hash browns and a tall glass of cold, hand-squeezed orange juice. Not to mention a shirtless San in plaid cotton pants, the only coverage his torso receiving was the pink apron he had on.

Kissed you on the forehead and told you to take your time, then get ready or a day out while he made lunch.

The next two meals went by in a similar fashion, where he had put so much love and care for everything to be perfect for you. Your favourite sandwich and a fruit salad, water and a chocolate chip cookie before a walk in the park where you both fed the ducks in one of the nearby lakes.

Later was dinner--arguably the best one out of them all. Steak with roast potatoes, and steamed vegetables (much to San’s dislike, but he withstood it for you). The day’s activity had you more than tired, cheeks aching slightly from smiling too much. Then again, you didn’t even notice because all you could think about was how lucky you were to land yourself such an amazing boyfriend.

Even after dinner, he continued to treat you like the royalty you were in his eyes. Offered a nice massage to relieve the past week’s tension all pent up in your poor muscles. It was innocent enough...

Until it wasn’t any more.

Despite the cloths thrown about everywhere on the bed, neither of you had motioned to clean up and San had instead opted to run you a bubble bath. Scented candles and all. It was more relaxing than you had imagined it to be, and by the time your face rested on San’s now-clothed torso--both of you wrapped snuggly up--you fell asleep.

The man loved the sight, and for once, he actually enjoyed running after you, making sure your every need was fulfilled whether you expressed it or not.

Because throughout the day, you were the happiest he had seen in a while, and all his efforts let up to this sight: you cuddled up close with that beautiful, enchanting smile faintly on your plush lips that he had so gently attacked not two hours ago.

He found himself loving you even more; a pleasant surprise as he had thought his cup was close to overflowing.

Two days later, he found himself falling even deeper when you had finally posted your latest chapter. San found himself grinning by the end of it--a little turned on, but more happy than anything.

Because San’s magic had worked. Cured your painful writer’s block since the words simply flowed as you typed the scene that had been causing you hell.

And whole chapter was awfully similar to that special day when San decided to take care of you.

Just tweaked a little so it would be more smut than it was fluff, adding just the right amount of sweetness that allowed your story to continue to flow perfectly.

Which was why San had been more joyous than usual the past week.

You were a perceptive person so you caught the change in his usual demeanour rather quickly. The source of it, however, was beyond you (he was good at hiding his knowledge of your secret). Any reason you tried to pin down on him was a little off.

Stress? No, he was too happy for that. Upcoming event? None that you knew of, and he shared everything of importance with you. Feeling happy just because? San was the more emotional out of the two of you and none of his moods lasted this long.

So what was it?

It was frustrating to say the least, but your boyfriend wasn’t letting it out. And you don’t think he ever will.

“Oh well,” you mumble, “can’t be that bad if he’s so happy...”

Song Mingi:

The boys had made a pact when they began to read your stories: no reading smuts with the group. This was fairly easy since they would normally be oneshots and you generally weren’t one to write them often into your series. On the odd occasion you did, you often put up a warning and explained straight after if there were any important bits.

All in all, very easy to avoid.

Mingi was a gigantic baby, and with babies, comes curiosity. A sense of need to know what’s happening. An insatiable thirst for knowledge and experience. Suppose what is trying to be said here is, is that Mingi wanted to read the explicit stuff you wrote.

What went on inside that wonderous brain of yours, he wanted to find out. But he couldn’t do that with the boys, nor did he want to. No chance in hell he was gonna be caught with an awkward boner.

Never would he live that one down.

So his plan commenced at night, when everyone in the dorms were fast asleep, he opened up his phone.

Now would normally come the dilemma of what to read, but Mingi is not that patient; as mentioned before, he is a giant baby. The first post he found that fit his criteria was the one that he read. Coincidently, that was result of your ‘experimental’ ones.

Using metallic things wasn’t something you had tried yet with Mingi, but you though you’d take it for a test run through your work to at least see it clearly how it would run if something like that was to happen. Sometimes, you found, it’s makes more sense to write it out rather to keep in your head.

On the other hand, Mingi didn’t really know that your writings stemmed from mild curiosity rather than what your really into (not that you would particularly mind trying some of it out). In his head, this was what you wanted to do.

He’d be lying if he said that the idea wasn’t much of a turn on, and the time he spent trying not to make a sound loud enough to wake up the other members would prove that. To him, this is was your wish and he would gladly comply to it.

The next day, he decided to run along with the theme, but to also add in a few twists of his own. You often liked that, both in and out of the bedroom.

Went out to buy some new rings for you, larger ones decorated with pretty gems for his pretty baby (even though he was one himself). Handcuffs, too, were ordered online, and a silver-chain choker--he made sure to double check it was safe to use. Next up was a little metal ball--he got this idea from the pokey challenge and something called the ‘passion fruit kiss’ on snapchat. Either way, he was excited to try it.

Babies like Mingi, as mentioned, have little patience and so he wanted to try it out as soon as possible, so the moment everything came, he quickly sterilised everything and waited for you to come home.

Made sure each metal piece was cold to the touch by keeping it in the fridge, and had a rolled up black silk tie stuffed in his pocket to act as a makeshift blindfold.

Sensory deprivation was the ‘twist’ he wanted to put on, since you both had tried something similar before with ice cubes and that went quite well...until it became too cold for Mingi’s mouth and that plan had to be scrapped sooner--hence fridge, for a little bit of coldness.

When you finally arrived, he looked like an excited puppy, and you had no idea why. Until he spun you around and tied a soft cloth over your eyes. “Mingi, I’m really tired and I just--”

“Shhhhh,” Mingi lulled right next to your ear, warm breath fanning over the nape of your neck which felt more sensitive than usual, “trust me?”

Sigh escaping past your lips, because yes, of course you trusted him. And now that you felt slightly more awake from his action, maybe you were willing to hear him out. ”Baby, what are you doing?”

Chuckling that followed your question was deeper than normal. Had it always been like that or was it your mind playing tricks on you? Either way, he didn’t answer and all you had heard was the fridge opening.

“Seriously, baby, what are you doing?” Now you were just nervous, all intentions of a lazy evening down the drain as your heart sped up.

It closed, and shortly after your lips were met with his, a faint taste of strawberry attached to them. Then something smooth and cold slipped past from him to you.

The metal ball was passed between the two of you in a playful game of which only your boyfriend knew the rules of.

When he could tell your guard was down and now you became a little more comfortable, Mingi slowly took your hands behind your back.

You had not paid attention, but you should have. Cold, tight restraints pressed against your skin, shockwaves making you gasp from the low temperature. But Mingi kept on going, kissing you to ease your tension.

Two metal things, so there must be a third, right? You knew about people’s strange obsession with threes so you completely expected another cold metal object to come into play. But the question was, what?

You soon found out when a thick chain choker brushed against your neck, clasping around it snuggly. This was it. This was the third and final one. And your suspicions seemed correct when you had not felt another chilly accessory grace your skin.

You wouldn’t have, not when the coldest of all the items--the rings--were being slipped onto your boyfriend’s fingers. You were in for a surprise in just a few moment.

Needless to say, there was only one thought swirling around in your head.

Maybe he isn’t that much of a baby.

Jung Wooyoung:

Ever since Wooyoung found out your fanfics were not about him, but his favourite K-Pop band, BTS, he had been...difficult. Moping around, trying to play for your attention a lot more than normal, not letting you have some peace of quiet with your computer.

It was almost as if he was jealous. You knew how needy the boy could be, wanting skinship with you more than he did with San. Knowing that you were fawning over men that weren’t him had certainly done something to him.

But Wooyoung knew you were no-nonsense. The complete opposite of him. It was exactly why he fell for you, and it was exactly why he wasn’t being as petty as he wanted at the moment.

He knew deep down you were his and he was yours.

Then again, that still didn’t stop him from feeling jealous, and had even gone so far as to decrease the amount he listened to BTS’ songs--especially around you.

At first, you didn’t notice the change since Wooyoung was often spontaneous so his behavioural pattern was difficult to decipher. Eventually there came a point where the clinginess increased so much, you couldn’t feign ignorance anymore.

Looking back, maybe you should not have burst his bubble and let him think that your fanfics were about him... Actually, no; either way, the moment he found out about your hobby, it was going to be hell. But now you just feel bad.

Yet, you don’t feel bad enough to stop. You never actually fantasised about being with them--it was just fun to write about. Clearly, he didn’t understand.

Your boyfriend seemed to be at his tipping point when he came back to you after a long day of dance practices that went sideways, typing away intently on your computer.

This was his time. You usually spend time with Wooyoung when he came back, but you were too busy to comfort him in his desperate time of need. Too busy with fantasising about Taehyung’s large hands or Namjoon’s dimpled smile.

Wooyoung was as cute as Hoseok and Jungkook. He had a unique laugh like Seokjin and was as flirty as Jimin.

He had all your favourite qualities in a partner so why spend time thinking about other men? He was literally right there, begging for your attention and yet, now it seemed as if you gave him none (which wasn’t true since the only thing you’ve done is become less secretive about writing).

When his attempts at distracting you from writing had fail, he tried to see what exactly it was you were writing about. Unfortunately, you had tried to hid it from his sight; the only thing that helped in doing was pissing him off even further.

Only after a tough struggle did he finally see what you had been so focused on that you had neglected him.

It was more BTS fanfic, but this one was worse. This one had him fuming--skin hot red and ears pooling out steam. This one was smut.

It was about no other than Yoongi, and by God, was it a rough.

That was how you liked it, and so did Wooyoung. Probably why he was so angry while reading about mirror sex with one of his fellow idols; you were just twiddling your thumbs in the corner, not sure about how badly your boyfriend was going to burst.

Wooyoung, no matter how mad he was, he had to admit... it did turn him on. Although, he was a prideful boy--not liking how you thought about others and more importantly, how threatened he felt while reading it.

Suddenly realising that it wasn’t enough just being all the perfect parts you liked (even if it came naturally to him).

He had a point to prove; Wooyoung could go beyond your wildest fantasies--and boy was it a wild fantasy.

Throwing your phone haphazardly somewhere (making you wince in prayer that it was not broken), your boyfriend gripped you by the wrist and dragged you across the room. You had barely enough time to realise what he was doing, only feeling a cold surface against your back as his lips ravished yours.

At some point, he broke away--lips swollen and slightly more red than normal. To say the sight had not affected you more than you already were would be a lie.

Still not giving you enough time to speak, Wooyoung turned you around so you could finally see what he had you pressed against.

A mirror.

If an idea of what he was planning hadn’t dawned on you, having his fingers tug at your clothes certainly gave you one now. His free hand had clasped around your jaw, making you look right into your reflection, seeing how your boyfriend’s lips were dangerously close to your ears as he looked at you dead in the eye through the mirror.

“Let me show you that I can be better than your imagination. Let me show you that you need to think about no one but me. Let me show you how good you’ll feel and who is the sole reason behind it.”

Yes, Wooyoung has all your favourite qualities in a partner while exceeding all expectations. That’s why you’re dating him.

Choi Jongho:

Ever since the release of your first movie and publication of the book it was based on, your career had blossomed. Finally, you quit the job that had been draining the life out of you to work full time at the publishing company.

Everyone around you could tell you were much happier, and the one who noticed it the most was Jongho.

Sure, your eyes were less sunken in, your cheeks more red, your step more bouncy. But he could feel that you changed on the inside too.

Your smile didn’t feel so forced after you came back from work and he had asked you how the day was. Now, your boyfriend found himself talking less and listening more to what you had to say.

If there was an expression more powerful to describe how he loved this happier version of you, he would use it in a heartbeat.

Sure, there were still times when the both of you couldn’t hang out as much as you would like to, but that was always in the job description, and the both of you were more than happy with it as long as the bed had both of you in it at the end of the day, both metaphorically and literally.

Then came along your second movie deal of a completely different story. In fact, it was based upon a movie you had watched at the time, and you hated it so much that you simply redid the entire thing.

In fact, it had irked you to the point no one could even tell it was based off of something since you had changed so much of it. However, there were still concepts you kept in the story--intimate scenes, for example (even if they too were completely changed).

You wrote such concepts before, and you would continue to do so since it was just interesting to write. Jongho, however, did not know about it.

At all.

So once your second movie was released, he was in for a surprise.

It was miraculous how terrible your memory was, since you had forgotten that you had not told him about the scene that would come up as you both watched it at home just before it’s release in the cinemas.

‘Surprise’ wasn’t really the word Jongho would use when it did come up, nor would it be ‘shock’. He was... mildly curious? Not that either... Well, all he knew that whatever he was feeling was not overwhelming.

“Did you know they changed this scene?” you spoke up.

“Really?”

Humming, you nodded your head. “They said the original scene was... Let’s just say they thought it was ‘too much’.” Then you scoffed under your breath. “Don’t know why they thought that though. It was fairly vanilla. Just some wall sex is all,” you confessed.

Now he felt a little overwhelmed. But he was mainly amused. “I don’t remember doing that with you.”

“Hmm? Oh... that’s because we didn’t.”

Chuckling under his breath, he cocked his head to the side, the paused scene in the background long forgotten. “Have you ever wanted to try it?”

“Once upon a time. Suggested it to my ex once before but he couldn’t lift me up since I was ‘way too heavy’,” you recalled with air quotations. “Didn’t bother trying after that.” You laughed at the memory, finding it to be hilarious back then and even now.

But your boyfriend on the other hand had not. In fact, he was no longer amused.

He was pissed.

It wasn’t about the fact that you had mentioned your ex--he never felt even remotely threatened by him. It was because he had called you heavy. He called his precious darling ‘heavy’. And you just laughed.

That was who you were--no matter how mean another person was being to you, you took it as a joke and moved on. You saw no point in dwelling over the bad, and that was one of the many genuine things he had fallen for. This time was different; it annoyed him.

Sure it might have been a dumb little memory for you, yet simply hearing about it had his blood boiling.

“Get up.”

“Wha--why?” The dark look in his eye had your lips sealing within the second. As if on autopilot, your body stood from the sofa you two were so comfortably perched on.

He followed you up, wrapping his hands around the back of your thighs, which only meant one thing. “Jongho--no. You won’t be able to.”

“Am I or am I not the strongest man you’ve ever met?”

“You are, but--”

“‘But’ I don’t care.” Forcefully, he lifted you up as you yelped, legs wrapping around his waist. “See? I can pick you up completely fine.”

Scanning his face, you saw that what he said was true. He picked you up as if you were as light as a feather, no tension in his neck, face, or arms to suggest he was having a hard time either.

It had you leaning against him, forehead touching forehead, laughing even more than you did before. Smile once again etched on his face, Jongho pecked your lips, walking slowly with you in his arms.

“Now shush and let me fuck you against the wall.”

113 notes · View notes

aadmelioraa · 3 years

Text

Take Two

A Happiest Season Abby x Riley fic (2.4k, T)

It had been one year since Abby had left. One year since they’d called it quits. One year since their engagement was over.

And now it was Christmas time again, only this time Abby was more alone than ever.

She’d been on a few dates since they’d broken up, but no one had stuck around. Probably more her fault than theirs. It had been good to get back out there, but it still hurt to remember how things with Harper had ended.

It was a pretty big shock at the time, but looking back it had been a long time coming. Abby and Harper were on different paths and it just wouldn't have worked, no matter how much they loved each other.

“It’s not you,” Harper had insisted. “It’s me, and I’m so sorry.”

That was one of the last things Harper said to her.

They’d been talking wedding plans that morning and by evening Abby was packing her bags.

Harper had been so desperate to make her happy since they got engaged, but her constantly bending over backward wasn’t what Abby needed, and it was stressing Harper out. Neither of them was their best self together, not anymore. Rather than bringing them closer, in the end, that Christmas with the Caldwells had exposed too many rifts in the relationship to salvage.

Tagging @mego42 @endlesslychildish @arcane--soul @skittles321

Read the rest below the cut or on ao3

“I want you to be happy without trying so hard to satisfy the idea of me in your head. You’re such an amazing person—“ Abby had started sobbing here, “—but I can't give you what you need either.”

She’d moved out that night. Harper hadn’t accepted the breakup at first despite sort of initiating it. The conversation had lasted for hours, but eventually, she acknowledged the inevitable and left Abby alone for a few hours to pack. John, thankfully just a text away, had helped her drive everything over to his place.

It had been the second-worst night of Abby’s life.

She’d moved to Philadelphia two months later. She’d grown up there, technically, but without her parents, it didn’t really feel like coming home. New neighborhood, new apartment, new job. If that wasn’t proof she could get over it, what was? But when the holiday season came around again a lot of memories, once happy, now painful, resurfaced.

Waking up alone on Christmas Eve that year, in a word, sucked.

Abby was awake at 6:30 am for some reason. She checked her phone. She’d missed two non-emergency texts from John last night after she’d taken melatonin and passed out. He was definitely still sleeping; she’d text him back later.

She made a pot of coffee and stood in the kitchen in her pajamas wondering what she was going to do to keep herself occupied all day. John, who was living with his boyfriend in New York now, had invited her to stay the night and spend Christmas with them, but Abby wasn't sure if she was feeling up to it. She kinda wanted to sit the holiday out completely this year. She opened her phone and jumped aimlessly between the same three apps, then finally forced herself to take a shower.

At noon she decided to get dressed and go for a walk. That ought to keep her distracted enough. She put on jeans, thick socks, and her warmest sweater under her coat and started wandering.

There was nothing quite like Philly at Christmas. Still brash, loud, and occasionally vulgar but now decked to the nines with tinsel. She was glad to have new haunts to discover along with revisiting old haunts.

The snow from the previous day had turned to slush by the time the sun was at its peak, but that didn’t stop the kids in her neighborhood from spilling out into the streets to play football and tag under the grey sky. She waved at her upstairs neighbors and made a mental note to try and get to know them a little better in the new year.

It was a nice enough day. Maybe she’d head to Fairmount Park. Wherever she ended up there were sure to be plenty of frantic people coming to and fro, finishing last-minute Christmas shopping.

A wave of mixed emotions washed over her as she passed by a jeweler. Harper had given back the ring, of course. It was with John for safekeeping. Abby couldn’t return it, but it felt really weird to have it at her new place. Fresh start and all. Maybe someday she’d be ready to sell it. For now, she didn’t want to think about it.

She continued on at a brisk pace, stopping at a street cart for a lunch of falafel which she ate standing over a trash can, then continuing on.

It was after four o’clock by the time she realized how far she’d walked. Her hands had grown pretty chapped, she should probably go inside for a minute. There was a bar up ahead that looked open, and she could definitely use a drink.

It was fairly empty when she entered which made her instantly relax. She sidled up the bar and took a seat, rubbing her hands to warm them.

“Hey.” There was one bartender working, a curly-haired woman wearing a bandana headband, fitted flannel, and impeccable winged eyeliner like some kind of femme Luke Danes. “What can I get for you?”

“Vodka tonic?”

“Not feeling the Christmas spirit today, huh?” the bartender asked, grabbing the well vodka and rimming a glass with a wedge of lemon.

“Not really.”

“Yeah me neither. Anyway, name’s Gem,” the woman said, setting the cocktail down with a gentle tap. “Yell if you need anything.”

She smiled and walked to the far corner of the bar, a towel draped over her shoulder. A tall redhead and a petite girl with shoulder lengths locs raised their glasses at her.

Even if Abby wasn’t feeling it today, she’d picked a good spot.

She’d just started to feel the effects of the booze when she heard a familiar voice.

“Hey, I thought that was you.”

Startled, Abby nearly dropped her drink.

Riley, Harper’s Riley, slid onto the stool next to her.

“Hey!” Abby said, “What are you doing here?”

“Nice to see you too,” Riley laughed.

“Yeah, I mean—great, great to see you.” Abby couldn’t help from grinning. She probably looked like an idiot but she didn’t care.

“You look good,” Riley said, subtly sweeping her eyes up and down in an appreciative manner.

“Thanks, thanks.” Abby was glad she’d foregone the beanie with the hole in it. “You look good too.”

She really did. Her hair was a little shorter now, though it still framed her face perfectly. Otherwise, she looked exactly the same as when they’d met two years ago. She was wearing a black mock neck sweater and a pair of perfectly tailored wool pants. Her boots had a slight heel, not too high to be practical in an East Coast winter. The hem of her sweater pulled up a little as Riley leaned over the bar, exposing just a sliver of skin. Abby tried not to stare too obviously while she ordered a drink.

“I moved to Philly last month, to answer your question,” Riley said. “Got a fellowship at Kensington, I start in a week.”

“Oh, cool. Congrats, that’s awesome.”

“Yeah, thanks,” Riley took a sip, glancing over at Abby in a way that made her face grow slightly warm. “What have you been up to?”

“Finished the doctorate and got a job as a curator at the PMA. It’s going well. I mean, relatively.”

“Well, look at you!” Riley raised her glass. “Doctor.”

“Doctor,” Abby echoed, laughing, as she knocked her glass against Riley’s.

“Glad to hear that.” Riley took another sip of her drink and paused, mouth pulling to one side awkwardly for just a second.

Abby knew the question that was coming.

“So,” Riley was looking straight ahead into the mirror behind the bar, “how’s Harper?”

Abby grimaced.

Riley’s eyes widened. “Oh, shit…”

“It’s ok! It’s ok,” Abby could feel herself overcorrecting. “It’s been about a year. But yeah, we’re not together anymore.”

“I’m really really sorry, Abby.”

“It’s fine, really,” Abby shrugged. “I mean, if anyone knows how I feel, it’s you.”

Riley exhaled and leaned over the bar, her elbow just barely touching Abby’s. “Yeah, that’s definitely true.”

“So what are you doing in a random bar on Christmas Eve anyway?” Abby asked, ready to change the subject.

“I live up the street, actually. I’m heading to Pittsburgh to see family tomorrow, but that’s going to feel like work, so today I just wanted to relax.”

“Totally,” Abby said, watching as a party of college aged kids spilled in from the street and headed to the high top tables towards the back of the bar. “I’m just taking it easy today, too.”

“Big plans tomorrow?”

“Might see John. I think you met him…when we met.”

“Yeah, I remember John. How’s he doing?”

“He’s really good. Thinks I need to get out more, but otherwise he’s very happy.”

Riley laughed. “I’ve been out exactly three times—wait, no, this makes it four—since I moved here in November so clearly I have no idea what that’s about.”

“You liking Philly so far?”

“Yeah, I do. I mean, don’t get me wrong it’s weird as fuck, but it’s got some really great people. The doctors I work with are whatever, but this kind of place has a good vibe.”

She smiled at Gem, who was rolling her eyes as she made Long Island Iced Teas for the group at the high tops.

“You two know each other?” Abby asked, internally cringing at how un-cool about it she sounded.

“I’ve been here three of the four times I’ve been out, so you could say that,” Riley said. “Nice people usually.”

Gem dropped off the tray of Long Islands and brought Abby and Riley another round.

“They tried to order mojitos,” she sighed, rolling her eyes.

“Fucking kids,” Abby said. Riley laughed. That felt good.

Another large group came in, middle-aged couples this time. It had grown dark outside, it must be after five by now.

They sat in silence for a few minutes, listening to the conversations happening around them. Old friends were reuniting to the right and left of them, the chatter that filled the air was starting to make Abby feel a little claustrophobic. She shifted towards the edge of her seat, tapping one foot nervously against the floor.

“Hey, do you want to get out of here?” Riley asked, raising her hand to catch Gem’s attention. “It’s getting a little crowded.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice,” Abby said, relieved. “I’m just gonna run to the restroom.”

She threw a slightly crumpled pile of bills—mostly fives—on the bar and made her way to the back.

By some good luck, the bathroom was free with no line. The space was cramped and not overly clean, and the small black and white tiles that covered the lower half of the walls created a frantic pattern that did nothing to help Abby’s nerves. She exhaled a deep breath, fixed on her own gaze staring back at her from the mirror.

You’re fine. You’re just hanging out with a girl. A friend, even. Stop being so fucking nervous.

She rolled her eyes, annoyed at her own pep talk, then made her way back to the bar.

Riley was waiting with her hat on, hands thrust deep into the pockets of her dark green coat. Her face broke into a smile when she saw Abby returning.

“Anywhere in particular you want to go?” Abby asked.

“Not really,” Riley said casually. “Lead the way.”

“You got it,” Abby said, and Riley followed her outside.

The air was brisk, and snow had just started to fall as they left. There were Christmas lights everywhere, garlands wrapped around lampposts, a tree decked to the nines in nearly every window.

“Philly really gets in the holiday season, huh?” Riley asked dryly, then pointed up at a stuffed orange mascot that hung from a wreath on someone’s porch. “What the hell is that thing?”

“You really are new here,” Abby laughed. “I don’t know if you’re ready for me to explain Gritty tonight but I promise he's worth the wait.”

They continued up Broad Street, gradually making their way away from the noisy crowds. It had started to snow, which helped muffle the sounds of passerby and create a more mellow but still festive atmosphere.

“So, I’m glad I ran into you,” Abby confessed, breaking the silence that was lingering between them.

Riley’s shoulder bumped against hers as she sidestepped a puddle. “I am too. I have to ask though, is it because we’re both members of the Harper broken hearts club, or something else?”

“No, I’ve been trying not to think too much about that,” Abby said.

“Sorry to bring it up again.”

“I mean, it’s kind of unavoidable. That’s not what I meant, sorry. I’m glad because I really liked you when we met, and I kind of regret not realizing that at the time.”

Riley glanced over at her, genuine surprise etched on her face. “I liked you too, Abby. A lot.”

Abby smiled into her scarf and shook her fingers through her hair the way she always did when she was nervous. “Really?”

“Yeah, past tense though,” Riley added.

“Asshole,” Abby laughed, and Riley’s mouth twitched in reply.

They had paused on a street corner. The snow was falling around them in big flakes, Riley’s hair glittering in spots where it had landed and begun to melt.

Riley cocked her head, lips slightly parted, and stepped a little closer. Her brown eyes sparkled in the light of a Christmas tree peeking out of a nearby window.

“You good?” she asked.

Abby hesitated, chewing her lower lip.

“I can head home, if you’re not feel—“

Abby didn’t let Riley finish. Surging forward on her toes, she kissed her.

Rile tasted like the old fashioned she’d been drinking, smoky and slightly sweet. She kissed Abby back, running a hand through the hair behind her ear, and Abby could feel her smiling as their noses bumped together. When she pulled back Abby caught her breath and realized she was grinning too.

“I’ve wanted you to do that for a really long time,” Riley breathed.

Abby laced her fingers through hers and they kept walking. She wasn't feeling alone amidst all the holiday revelry any longer.

“Do you want to grab dinner sometime, maybe?” Abby asked tentatively.

Riley squeezed her hand. “How about now?”

Abby grinned. “Now is great.”

#abby x riley #happiest season #happiest season fic #kat writes

145 notes · View notes

consumeconstantly · 4 years

Text

Small Buff Girl Sightings Ch. 5

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | ao3

3:00AM | CoffeeVamp: bb bat update us TheOG: ^^ more info on the situation in paris

3:28AM | Demonspawn: It is difficult to obtain information on Hawkmoth. The butterflies disperse after they are cleansed, and before they land their target, they don’t show up electronically. Coffee Vamp: o how the mighty have fallen i thought u said u could best me bb boi

3:42AM | Demonspawn: I’d like to see you do better. Coffee Vamp: IS THAT A CHALLENGE Coffee Vamp: ill take u up on that gimme 24 hours and ur going down TheOG: he has had a whole month so dont be too sure of that LadyLady: would you guys SHUT UP its two and some of us have jobs to do Coffee Vamp: cmon babs u luv us dont deny it LadyLady: Don’t make me hunt you down, Tim. Coffee Vamp: oOooO proper punctuation im shaking TheOG: just shut off notifications Babs TheOG: Bruce does Jesus: i don’t think the man has checked this chat in years Coffee Vamp: wdym brucie checks the chat all the time hes just a silent lurker Coffee Vamp: he doesnt even set himself to invisible

3:57AM | Daddy is away. Coffee Vamp: im so glad i have admin privileges imagine if i didnt bruce would have a boring normal nickname like his actual name LadyLady: good lord, why am I even in this chat?? Daddy: You’re supposed to keep them under control. Coffee Vamp: SEE I TOLD U BRUCE IS A SILENT LURKER> THIS. IS. SOLID. PROOF. IN YOUR FACE TheOG: nobody said otherwise Coffee Vamp: also how are the people have you made friends Jesus: Demon spawn? Making friends? Id be less surprised if he told us he has a new fling Coffee Vamp: is j right? Got a winter fling?

4:12AM | Coffee Vamp: ur lack of a response tells us nothing TheOG: im sure he’s just adopted his usual icy persona Coffee Vamp: haha hes the bb of so many things Coffee Vamp: bb vamp bb demon spawn ice ice bb Coffee Vamp: getitt im so funny

4:36AM | Coffee Vamp: guys?

“I told you I could get her to write her number on your cup,” Marinette grins with pride.

“And I told you I didn’t want her to.” Damian scowls and kicks a pebble in his path.

“You’re still wearing the clothes I picked out for you,” she points out.

“You told me to wear it. I wore it. I’m not interested in her.”

Marinette squints at Damian, evaluates whether he’s telling the truth or not. “Huh, you really aren’t interested. I guess it’s a good thing you didn’t wear the other outfit I picked out for you-- that one would have gotten her to ask you out on the spot.”

Damian groans. “We’re going to have to find a new coffee place.”

“Or we could just come when she’s not on shift and run away like mice when we do see her?”

Damian gives her The Look.

“But they have good coffee here,” Marinette whines.

“Maybe you should have thought about that before dressing me up and sending me to my death.”

“It’s not my fault! You only have your parents to blame for your looks.”

It’s true; both of Damian’s parents are good-looking. His whole family is, actually, adopted or not. All of the good looking people he meets are talented and have a tragic life story. Which is the cause and which is the effect, Damian isn’t sure. But it holds true even in Paris. All he has to do is look at Marinette or Adrien, though he’s not a hundred percent sure where the tragedy kicks in for Marinette. Probably the time when she was at odds with Lila, but he hasn’t looked much into the situation. He can even use Lila Rossi as an example. She has even worse color coordination than Damian is, but her features are model worthy. Lila Rossi is also definitely fucked up in ways that Damian doesn’t care to explore.

The effects of Marinette’s well-placed compliments has Damian thinking about himself in a positive manner that he never has before. Bruce is always stingy with praise, and the other senior members of the Justice League of America see him as another Robin that doesn’t need praise because competency comes with the mantle. Dick and Barbara compliment him occasionally, but that’s rarer now that his place is more firmly cemented in the family. Damian doesn’t think he’s ever had someone so willing to genuinely compliment him. Marinette’s compliments extend to more than just his looks, as well. She praises his technological skills as he sets up her website and has complimented him as he helps her out with whatever altercations she inevitably comes across on the streets. If he reveals his skills as Robin, reveals himself as Damian Wayne, will he receive even more praise?

“But since we did buy you that absolute knockout of an outfit, you’re going to have to wear it eventually. So whose heart do you want to steal?”

“I don’t want a relationship,” Damian repeats. They seem like more effort than they’re worth, and he always sees couples fighting and complaining about each other. Plus, they have to make time for each other and his alter ego doesn’t allow for that, though he supposes that he isn't Robin. At least, not right now.

“You don’t need to want a relationship just to flirt with somebody. Who’s it going to be? The intern at the Louvre? My parent’s newest hire? Oooh, how about Nicolette?” Marinette’s voice takes on a more mischievous tone.

Damian will give Marinette this much: her taste in the aesthetics of people is far from bad. The intern from the Louvre is two hundred pounds of lean muscle with a devil-may-care smile and a deep, belly laugh that makes people laugh with him, but Damian and he don’t have anything in common. Her parent’s new hire is knockout gorgeous, with warm brown eyes, and definitely the kind of girl Damian would have gone for as a one night stand back in Gotham. However, he’s also 98% sure that she has a very possessive boyfriend who stops by the bakery every time she has a shift. Nicolette is considered her college’s belle, and her intense gaze paired with her surprisingly friendly demeanor might have been appealing to Damian if she weren’t ten years older than him.

“I’m not into any of them,” he says, simply.

“Then who are you into? Surely someone has caught your eye in the past month?” Marinette looks genuinely curious, but her expression shifts into horror. “Oh my god. I’m so sorry. I never asked your preferences, if I was being insensitive, I’m sorry, I mean I’m pan, but you absolutely don’t have to tell me, it’s your right if you’re not comfortable.”

Damian does look slightly uncomfortable now that she’s looking at him more closely. His arms are crossed over each other, across his chest, and his hair is tousled. Then, he lets out a small laugh, and Marinette melts. “It’s fine, Pigtails. All of the people you listed are attractive, but I’m not attracted to them. I’m more of a personality guy, though I can’t say that personality has stopped me from things more than dates before.”

He’s had his fair share of hook-ups and makeout sessions in the past when feeling particularly frustrated with something that wasn’t going his way, though his primary method of relief is through sparring. Short missions and one night stands go fairly well together; he doesn’t ever have to deal with people wanting long term relationships, and even if they do, he’s gone before they know it. So far, he hasn’t hooked up with anyone in Paris, but then again, he’s only been here for a month and this is a long term mission. Whatever time he’s not with Marinette or at school is dedicated to piecing together the mystery that is the Miraculous and trying to figure out Hawkmoth’s identity.

“Oh,” Marinette continues to blush.

She’s clearly too embarrassed to bring up any other topic, so Damian decides that he’ll shoot the same conversation topic back at her. Marinette is attractive, and people she meets ask for her numbers and dates often enough. She’ll accept the former if they aren’t a total creep, but she always turns down requests for dates.

“And you? Why aren’t you out there questing for love? No crushes or significant others that I need to beat off with a stick?”

This does manage to lessen her flush. She frowns, turns something over in her mind.

“No crushes right now, no. I used to have a huge crush on Adrien just a year ago. He’s such a sweet person, but we don’t see eye to eye on important matters.” And also not into sex, either. Even physical affection hits him the wrong way sometimes, which makes Marinette worry even further for his well being with Lila’s constant touches. Still, he hasn’t said anything, and Lila hasn’t done anything more than grasp his arm or shoulders every now and then, to reassure the class that yes, they are the golden couple. Marinette also suspects that he is very unwilling to talk about the whole situation in general, and it’s not as though they’re super close.

Of course she had a crush on Adrien. Damian can see it now, Marinette looking at Adrien with her big blue eyes, her lashes fluttering when she gets close to him. Stuttering when she gets embarrassed or when she gets close to him. It makes his lungs constrict, but he’s not sure why.

“As for past relationships, there’s only really Luka. We had a pretty good run, but he’s out of the country, touring. He wanted to try long distance, but I didn’t really want that. But he’s respectful-- there’s no need to beat him off with a stick or anything.”

“I’m surprised a pretty girl like you doesn’t have more suitors,” Damian says, stepping over a crack in the sidewalk as they walk towards the park.

Marinette gags. “There are some other people who have been interested, but I wouldn’t exactly consider them relationship material. If you’re going after a girl just because she looks exotic, that’s sort of nasty. I guess I’m just unlucky in love.”

“At least you’re not as bad off as Ladybug is,” Damian jokes.

She looks at him strangely. “What makes you say that?”

“Well, first there was that creepy sculptor who must have been twice her age, then there’s Chat Noir who keeps flirting with her despite her requests not to, plus all of the random love akumas. I’m not even going to talk about the hordes of guys who chase after her, trying to get a date just because she’s a superhero. It’s not even like she can kick them between the legs because she has an image to uphold and all that.” He smirks, nudges her with his arm. “I’m surprised you haven’t done that with some of your stalkers.”

“Oh. You’re right, huh. Though, I don’t think Chat Noir has actually flirted for a while now.” Chat Noir has been very subdued as of late, and it makes Ladybug worry.

Marinette feels uncomfortable with the way the conversation has shifted. How does Damian know about all of these past akuma attacks? As far as Marinette is aware, most information about anything Miraculous related is difficult to get a hold of abroad, largely because the Miraculous try to hide their existence as best they can, and partially because Mayor Bourgeois doesn’t want word to get out that he hasn’t flushed a supervillain terrorist out even though he’s had three years to do it.

“Copycat happened three years ago.” It’s a question, almost.

“I figure I might as well keep up with the heroes of Paris. I’m here and they’re interesting.” Damian figures this is as good a time as any to bring up his interest in Hawkmoth. Marinette has been nothing but helpful and she’s definitely the kind of person whose heart is in the right place. Not to mention that she’s definitely smart and seems impartial; the one time he asked her about her thoughts on the heroes, he found out that she didn’t see them as perfect. She was able to critique Ladybug in full, which seemed pretty odd considering the rest of Paris seemed to have nothing but glowing praise for the heroine. “You’ve had some awful luck with akumas yourself. Weird how Ladybug didn’t show up when you got kidnapped by Evillustrator. One of the only times she didn’t show up for an akuma.”

“And what happened to the other heroes? It’s mostly Ladybug now. She must be in an awful state with her civilian life.” He looks off to the park, occasionally flicking his attention back Marinette’s face, evaluating her expression.

She catches his eyes and he swiftly looks away, looking almost nervous. Marinette stiffens. He knows, he knows, he knows, he can’t know. But how? How does he know that she’s Ladybug? She hasn’t let anything slip around him. She's been careful not to. Everything she’s ever said about Ladybug has been brief and curt, taking on an almost angry tone.

“If you’re so interested in Parisian heroes, I’m sure you saw the press conference Ladybug and Chat Noir gave last year about why the other heroes would be showing up less often.” Marinette keeps her voice carefully neutral. She needs to play this safe. She’s probably over reacting-- she’s been on edge with Hawkmoth sending out an akuma attack nearly every single day for the past few months.

Damian shakes his head. “It didn’t seem like good reasoning. Ladybug and Chat Noir are too untrained. They haven’t beat two villains in three years. They should let someone else take over.”

Marinette has come across a good number of Ladybug and Chat Noir haters throughout her time. Those who dislike the Parisian heroes often make the exact same arguments Damian is now. That they’re not fast enough. That they should have taken down Hawkmoth and Mayura already. This is nothing new to her, though it does hurt hearing it from Damian, for some reason. She can’t even argue with most of the points he’s brought up. Going mostly solo was because of her own, selfish reasons. She really should have beaten Hawkmoth and Mayura by now.

“The only thing they have going for them right now is that they’re keeping their Miraculous out of Hawkmoth’s hands.” She pretends that the reason why Chat Noir doesn’t show up to battle is to ensure that Hawkmoth can’t get both of the Miraculous in one fell swoop. It feels hopeless to fight villain after villain without any movement forwards. Her mind wanders to the increasing frequency of akumas and smiles, sardonically. “Some people think it’s only a matter of time until Ladybug and Chat Noir lose.”

“Hawkmoth almost seems to be the better strategist.” The two of them pass store front after store front. “Do you ever wonder what they look like, under the mask? Who they are?”

Marinette stares at the concrete underneath her feet. Hawkmoth, the better strategist? Laughable, and entirely incorrect. Even the people who hate Ladybug admit that her plans almost always work out, and that her plans are second to none. Really the only person who can possibly think that Hawkmoth is a better strategist is--

She can’t think like that. Damian is her friend. He’s just curious about Paris. Her lack of sleep and increase in paranoia re making her imagine things that are impossible. Besides, Damian isn’t on her list of suspects-- he told her he’s only been here for a short time, and Hawkmoth’s Miraculous definitely has a limited range. It’s a real pity that the world of Miraculous makes concrete evidence hard to come by, otherwise, Marinette likes to think Hawkmoth would have been behind bars already.

“No,” she lies. Hawkmoth haunts her dreams and every waking hour. She spends hours and hours on theories and scouring out information and people who fit the clues she’s painstakingly pieced together. “Not really.”

Damian’s eyes are a piercing green, and for a moment, Marinette thinks she stops breathing. “Is that so? I’m really interested in who Ladybug is under the mask. I’d love the opportunity to talk to her in person, especially about her Miraculous. The powers she has are… very interesting.”

No. There’s no way that Damian can be Hawkmoth, right? This is all just her paranoia speaking. Damian is just a foreigner who is interested in super heroes. It’s no biggie. Still, she can’t shake off the idea that there’s more to Damian than meets the eye. The way he walks-- no, prowls-- commands respect. Marinette can tell that he knows how to fight, and knows how to fight well. He’s very good at finding information on people-- she sent a whole case file to her on Renee and his situation with his mother within twenty four hours of going into the precinct, complete with video evidence Marinette knows should have been impossible to procure without hacking-- and keeps up with her critiques on Ladybug and Chat Noir’s techniques like he’s watched their battles over and over again. He remembers akuma battles Marinette has half forgotten, because they happened so long ago.

She stares up at him, hands shoved in the pockets of the jacket she chose for him when they went on their wardrobe makeover. Damian is surprisingly wealthy; he purchased anything she even glanced at with passing approval. He looks straight forward, apparently waiting for some response from her. Just because Damian is her friend, doesn’t mean she can immediately expunge him from her list of suspects. So far, she has taken all of Damian’s words at face value. It didn’t matter to her that he rarely talks about his family or his life before Paris. It didn’t matter that he hadn’t brought her to his home during all of the weeks that they’ve been hanging out together. Really, Marinette just figured that he had a rocky relationship with his family, and that he may have been on the poorer side and was embarrassed to show her where he lived. But clearly. Damian is well off enough to afford brand name clothes without batting an eye. Things aren’t adding up. All of the red flags that she’s blatantly ignored start to crop up in her head.

The book on the species of butterflies that akumas are made of, tucked under his arm. The way he showed up after every single akuma attack when she rarely saw him in the area before or during it. His knowledge of the three languages that form the basis of the Miraculous Tome-- Mandarin, Arabic, and English.

If he is Hawkmoth, what sort of emotions would he be feeling right now? Some sort of euphoria, maybe, realizing that he could get infinitely closer to Ladybug when she is Marinette. Anticipation, too. Has Marinette been hanging out with a super villain for the past month? Has she really come to the point where she can call a supervillain her best friend?

Marinette takes another look at Damian’s outfit. Master Fu said that the Miraculous Hawkmoth owns is in the shape of a brooch. Marinette sees no such object on Damian, which could either mean that he’s not Hawkmoth or that he’s just been taking it off whenever he’s with her. She’s really hoping it’s not the second option.

She needs to gather her thoughts, make a plan on how to proceed. When she’s sure that Damian isn’t looking, Marinette sets off the ringtone that is saved for her Maman’s texts and calls. This catches Damian’s attention, and she waves looks up from her phone as though she’s responding.

“Maman wants me to do a delivery. If you’re looking for more information on the whole superhero situation in Paris, I can get you Alya’s number. She runs the Ladyblog-- I’m sure she’d be glad to talk with you.” Alya also has some of the worst conspiracy theories that Marinette has ever seen. She doesn’t often keep abreast of what the Ladyblog’s portrayal of Ladybug is, but back when Marinette and Alya were friends, she was subjected to wild theories that made her stomach nauseous with how little logic there was. Which means that if-- if-- Damian is actually Hawkmoth, he might be thrown off by what she says.

“I’ll see you on Monday? Jagged texted me last night and wants me to change the embroidery on his commission.” This isn’t exactly a lie; Jagged wants one of the smaller details to be changed, but it certainly won’t take as long as she’s suggesting. Marinette hopes that it’s enough of an excuse to get Damian off her back for the rest of today and tomorrow while she reevaluates her game plans and life choices.

Damian waves her off. “I don’t think that Ladyblogger girl knows anymore than I do. She’s of no help to me. I’ll see you on Monday.”

Marinette’s reaction to Damian’s questions are weird. There’s an underlying tension that she exuded before they parted ways, and he’s still thinking about it a day later.

Marinette, who he always finds near an akuma attack right after it occurs. Marinette, who is emotionally and physically superior to most other Parisians. Marinette, who hasn’t been akumatized in a class full of idiots and other victims. Marinette, who doesn’t like Ladybug even though she seems like a fairly competent and kind hero, despite the fact that she hasn’t caught Hawkmoth yet. Marinette, who rarely talks about akumas despite all of the time he spends with her, which is highly unusual because even people he only briefly meets manage to slip in something about akumas into the conversation. Damian feels like there must be some sort of connection between Marintte and the akuma situation that he’s not getting, but it’s eluding him.

He sits down with his laptop in his apartment and looks up information about Marinette Dupain-Cheng. She’s definitely just as talented as he suspected; in her ninth year of schooling, she won a Gabriel competition, participated in a music video of Clara Nightingale’s, and collaborated with Jagged Stone on an album cover. So that was how she met him-- he wondered, but never asked. There are also a few instagram posts that have tagged her as a good samaritan and a few articles that detail a small, asian girl who’s going around Paris helping random people that are in need.

The weird things that Damian finds are contained in her school records. She’s apparently in very good company with her IQ, but what’s more interesting is all the dates that she is tardy or absent from school. They line up perfectly with all of the dates that akumas appear. He feels dread gather in his stomach.

A few more searches seem to cement his growing suspicions. Around the same time that Marinette obtained a truce with Lila matched up with when theorists believed that the Italian girl started working with Hawkmoth. He reads the instagrams and tweets of her classmates from the first year that Hawkmoth arrived, which talk about how excellent Marinette is at calming them down and guiding them to a better place. He also reads the posts of Chloe Bourgeois and Alya Cesaire and the articles about Marinette and Evillustrator that tell a slightly different story-- that Marinette is capable of manipulating others into more unpleasant situations.

Damian jolts. There is an incoming call from his father.

“Are updates on Paris, Damian?”

Should he give them a clue to his growing suspicions that Marinette is Hawkmoth? No, he can’t tell them until he gathers more information.

“No,” he says. “Information about Hawkmoth and the Miraculous are hard to come by.”

There’s a sigh and what sounds like the rustling of papers from the other side. “I figured. Tim and Barbara can’t find anything over here, either, but the Justice League is worried. They want results.”

“The Justice League and I agreed that having Robin make an appearance would be beneficial. Gain Ladybug and Chat Noir’s trust, or find Hawkmoth. Information might come easier with your alter ego.”

“All right.”

Another pause. He and his father have always had an awkward relationship. Bruce didn’t know of his existence until he was ten, and by that time, the most formative years of Damian’s life had already passed. Bruce Wayne may be many things, but good at dealing with children, he is not. Even after adopting so many children, he doesn’t know how to raise a child. Damian and his brothers have all raised themselves, with Bruce only stepping in when one of them is really going off the rails.

“Is everything else going well in Paris? School is good?”

“School is fine.” Damian wonders whether he should tell his father about Marinette. About the girl who is kind and capable and scarily efficient at dispatching criminals for a citizen and-- he can’t think about her like that. He decides against telling his father about her. She might be Hawkmoth, after all, and confirming her existence to his father means that he’s denying that possibility. “Gotham?”

“Nothing out of the usual. A few run-ins with the Joker.”

Another silence. The lapses in conversation aren’t awkward, but Damian thinks of the playful banter Marinette has with her parents and frowns.

“Goodbye, Father.”

“Goodnight, Damian.”

Damian looks around at his empty apartment. There is nothing in it, except for his suitcase and a few pieces of furniture. It’s nothing like the manor, where he knows that Tim is up at all hours slaving away on another project that Damian rarely gets to see, or that Jason is in the training room with Dick joining him occasionally. He can’t pick a fight with Tim or have Dick try to mediate the conflicts between himself and Jason. No nightly patrols with three or four people talking over the comms, or near instantaneous backup when he gets into a tight spot. There is no Alfred or Barbara or Cassandra or Bruce here. Only Damian.

He looks down at his laptop, at the various information and images of Marinette that he has up on his screen. In good conscience, he can’t continue being friends with her. Not with the possibility that she is the person he’s trying to hunt down.

He remembers her saying that being lonely is different than being alone.

Damian is lonely.

Patrol is a necessary evil.

Ladybug doesn’t hate patrol. She’s not very fond of it, though. It cuts into time that she could be spending sleeping or designing or anything else, really. In the beginning, it started as a way to figure out how everything worked under the guise of the dark and without the constant threat of an akuma hanging over head. Then, it progressed into disproving the theory about Ladybug’s age, because civilians aren’t inclined to believe that a teenage girl who has school the next day would patrol every day in the early morning. Now, it shows the Parisians how devoted Ladybug is-- that’s something that she’s struggled with ever since withdrawing the Miraculous from all of the part time heroes-- and lets Marinette blow off any steam that she has.

Right now, Marinette needs to blow off a lot of steam. Still, even as Ladybug, as much as Marinette wants to scream to high hell and back about how she’s been friends-- very close friends, she’d dare to say-- with the same person who has been terrorizing Paris for years, she can’t. If she screams, there will be media coverage on it, and she doesn’t want to deal with what the press would write up some article about how Ladybug was overworked and needed to bring back the other heroes, or that Ladybug wasn’t mentally sound enough to take care of Paris, she should just give up the Miraculous, or that Ladybug’s scream was [insert some poetic nonsense that English teachers wax about for hours even though the author never intended the audience to read that deeply into it].

Marinette doesn’t want to admit it, but she’s gotten close to Damian. She’s as close to him as she is with Kagami, Luka, Jagged and Penny. Damian knows that she’s MDC. He knows her hopes and aspirations. He knows her family, knows the majority of her friends, and knows what’s important to her. It will be so easy for him to tear her apart now. Marinette isn’t sure what Hawkmoth is waiting for, but she almost hopes that he’ll get it over with sooner rather than later.

What will Hawkmoth do first? Go after the website that he helped her make, probably. Cut off the financial support that she could use to run away and create another identity. Then, he’ll go after her friends, few and far as they may be. Renee next. Her family, last. She wonders who Mayura is, if he is Hawkmoth. She hasn’t seen anyone that’s close to him. Then again, Damian reveals next to nothing about himself. She’s never even seen where he lives.

There’s a shadow on the rooftops.

God, of course Hawkmoth would send out an akuma today. He knows how horrible her mental state must be. There’s no way he wouldn’t take advantage of that.

She yoyos over to the shadow, not close enough to strike or apprehend, but close enough to easily give chase without the akuma being able to give her the slip.

“Ladybug,” the akuma says.

“Cut the crap. We all know you want the Miraculous, Hawkmoth. Let’s get to it.” The shadow steps forward where a street lamp illuminates its costume, and once again, she is assaulted by the barrage of colors on her eyes. After seeing how awful Damian’s color coordination was, it’s easy to come to terms with the awful designs of all of his costumes. Still, she’s surprised that the boy who dresses in the same outfit every day creates such outlandish costumes for all of his minions.

The akuma frowns, tenses.

“I’m not Hawkmoth,” it insists. “I’m Robin, a vigilante from Gotham. I’ve come to learn more about the current situation and aid you in taking Hawkmoth down.”

Ladybug scoffs. She’s not sure what this akuma’s tactic is, but none of the others have tried to lie to her so blatantly about their identity. And ripping off an identity? That is a new low, even for Hawkmoth. She’s sure that the real Robin didn’t agree to this, and if she were close with the vigilante, maybe she could get him to throw a lawsuit or two at Hawkmoth once he was in custody, just for kicks.

Robin the akuma scrambles, apparently looking for something that can verify his identity.

Ladybug strikes. There’s no pride in striking an opponent when they are distracted, but it’s a means to an end. If Damian is dumb enough to send out an akuma confused about its identity tonight of all nights-- a night where Ladybug is distressed and it would be all too easy to take advantage of her-- then she’s going to take advantage of it.

It’s easy to bind the akuma. Startlingly easy. The akuma is different tonight, then. His powers have something to do with close contact, maybe? Ladybug looks on his person for things that could be the point of akumatization, eyes flitting from Robin’s waistband to his mask.

She comes to an unpleasant conclusion. The measurements and the coloring are a perfect match. Hawkmoth has come to meet her in person.

“Damian,” Ladybug hisses.

Damian’s eyes widen, like he doesn’t know how she’s pieced together his identity. How stupid does he think she is? He’s been dropping hints constantly. Information a transfer to Paris shouldn’t know. Never telling Marinette anything personal. Always being near an akuma attack when it happens. It’s almost like he wanted her to figure out his identity.

“How did you know?”

“Please, Hawkmoth, did you really think that Marinette couldn’t connect the dots? You must have thought awfully little of her if you thought that your constant appearances near all of the akuma and questions about the Miraculous didn’t lead me to your identity.”

“Hawkmoth? Ladybug, I’m not Hawkmoth, I’m Robin.”

“And I’m the queen of England. Renounce your Miraculous now, Hawkmoth. Or I’ll beat you until you detransform and take it from you.”

Damian looks confused before his face contorts to an expression of resignation. He recognizes a cold fury in her eyes that is distinct to people who won’t give up until they get their way, and there’s really no other way around this right now. He should have brought his comm with him, but he wasn’t expecting to meet Ladybug tonight; he just wanted to assess the situation as Robin, to get out from his apartment for a second. Rookie mistake.

True to her word, Ladybug beats Damian unconscious and also until he’s black and blue. She’ll be lying if she didn’t say she took out some of her fury from the past years on him.

But here’s the thing; Damian doesn’t detransform. He stays in his god-awful costume that has the same disgusting shade of mustard yellow as that one top Damian owns. That’s not what’s supposed to happen. When Miraculous users faint, they detransform because it takes a sort of mental awareness to handle the powers bestowed upon them. Is it different because Damian is an akuma? Is there some sort of Miraculous bylaw that if a Miraculous user gets akumatized, they get to stay in their alternate form? Oh wait, that’s right, he’s an akuma, not Hawkmoth right now.

Ladybug stumbles forward, breaking all of the weapons that are on his belt, taking off his mask and breaking that as well. No akuma comes out. She tries his gloves, then his boots. She pats him down, seeing if there’s anything she missed. She rips his suit, too. Nothing. There’s no brooch in his personal effects either.

What is she supposed to do now?

Seeing no alternative, Ladybug picks Damian up and yoyos back to Tom and Sabine’s Boulangerie to safely detransform and figure out what the fuck is going on.

He’s not Hawkmoth, is the conclusion Marinette comes to after a side by side comparison of pictures of the vigilante and Damian. The horrifying conclusion: the person lying on the floor of her bedroom is actually Robin, the vigilante from Gotham.

Marinette knows it’s better to err on the side of caution, but she still buries her head in her hands in embarrassment. How can she have gotten him so wrong? She really needs to get better at reading people, because deciding that random civilians are Hawkmoth clearly has not paid off.

She also cannot believe that the Justice League has decided to step in now, and with a sidekick from America, of all things--Marinette is pretty sure that she sent the videos to the European branch. It must have been three years since her first notification to them. She contacted them immediately after Stoneheart, and again, after Syren when she was distraught at the death that surrounded her. With no response, there was nothing she could do. She has to start relying on herself and her own skills.

Ladybug only contacted them once more, after Heroes’ Day. At that point, Ladybug had been thinking for a while that someone who was naturally superpowered or someone with a high grade of intelligence-- like the heroes affiliated with the Justice League-- would do more harm than good if they were allowed in the city. After the devastation of her teammates being akumatized, and the nearly week long battle that ensued, she was certain that she could barely fight her teammates, let alone trained professionals. So with shaky hands and red rimmed eyes, she said to please disregard her earlier messages; the situation in Paris wasn’t that bad, and Ladybug could handle it.

Damian groans. Marinette jumps; he is waking up far earlier than she anticipated. She wants to transform back into Ladybug. Being in her spots gives her a pseudo sense of security. First, though, she has to restrain him. Even though he isn’t Hawkmoth, she’s not sure whether he’s a threat or not. She makes quick work of it, using the thickest zip ties that she has on hand and restraining his arms and legs.

She doesn’t get the chance to transform back into Ladybug, but that’s just as well, because at the end of the day, Marinette is the foundation of anything that makes Ladybug a hero to the public. Damian opens his eyes almost immediately after she has finished restraining him, taking in his surroundings and the person in front of him.

“Marinette? Where’s Ladybug?” No questions of how he got there; Ladybug can clearly carry her own weight and more. No questions as to why there are zip ties cutting into his wrists and ankles; he has seen too many of Marinette’s victims on the streets.

“What do you mean, where’s Ladybug?” Marinette is right in front of him. She might not have the suit on, but at the end of the day, she does have the Ladybug Miraculous, which means she’s Ladybug through and through, and Damian must know that. Otherwise, there’s no real reason for Robin to be spending so much time with Marinette. The fact that she feels more real and true to herself as Marinette than as Ladybug probably means nothing to him.

“She knocked me out on a rooftop. Didn’t know that you two knew each other personally. I’m not Hawkmoth, by the way.” He twitches, then realizes that he’s been tied up. “Why’d she leave me with you?”

So he doesn’t know that she’s also Ladybug? This whole thing keeps getting more confusing. Still, the less people that know about her alter ego, the better. Marinette will keep him in the dark. She attributes his blatant misunderstanding to the identity concealment magic of the Miraculous. It’s powerful stuff. If it didn’t exist, she’s sure she would have found concrete evidence as to who Hawkmoth is by now.

“She asked me to assess whether you were a threat or not. Whether or not she casts the Miraculous Cure is contingent on my response.”

“Ladybug wants you to assess whether I’m a threat or not? Why’d she leave a possible super villain with a civilian?”

“I help Ladybug out with many things.” Her voice turns to clinical detachment. She uses this method to dissociate as Ladybug when things get overwhelming. Assess the situation. Get in, deakumatize, get out. Marinette needs to distance herself. It’s bad enough that the situation is this convoluted, but she doesn’t need Damian to doubt Ladybug’s capabilities as well. “Ladybug knows that you’re not Hawkmoth now, and she knows that I can handle myself with any run of the mill bad guy, even if they are a supposed vigilante.”

“Tell me, Robin,” Marinette spits the name like a curse, “Why should I tell Ladybug that you’re not a threat? That you are who you say you are?”

In all honesty, all Marinette wants to do is knock Damian out again so she can collect her thoughts. She’s not sure how she should address his presence as Robin in Paris and is still reeling from the whiplash of thinking he was Hawkmoth only for him to turn into a foreign vigilante. Next thing she knows, he’ll tell her that his name isn’t even Damian Grayson. Well, now that she thinks about it, he’s definitely not. After this encounter finishes, she’ll look up Damian and Gotham and see what she gets.

He looks flustered, like he never expected anybody to question his identity or presence. It’s laughable, really. Marinette doubts that the Justice League actually sent him; he’s probably here to explore on his own. That means he’ll only be a pain in the ass to deal with. Maybe she needs to get into contact with the Justice League again, if only just so she can deport Robin with more ease.

“I can call Batman,” he says.

Marinette doesn’t think this is a very good solution. There’s no way for her to prove that the person on the other side actually is Batman and not some actor. But after racking her brain, she can’t come up with a much better solution. It’s not like Robin has any superpowers that she can request to see, and she doesn’t have a direct line to anybody from the Justice League.

“Fine. Call Batman.”

“It’s in the pocket near on my right side.” Marinette doesn’t bother going closer to him. She destroyed everything on him earlier, in case it was the akuma’s vessel. Ladybug thought she came across a phone, but now she’s glad she smashed it and left it on that random rooftop. He probably has some sort of tracker on his phone. In any case, Marinette thinks it’s weird for a vigilante to have a phone on them while on the rooftops. Shouldn’t he have an earpiece or something?

“Your phone was destroyed by Ladybug. Tell me the number to call. I’ll put it on speaker.” Marinette isn’t sure if the number he’ll have her call will be some sort of secure connection or direct line that is only accessible through Damian’s phone, but she doesn’t particularly care because the Miraculous Communicators are exactly that. Miraculous. Master Fu assured her that all communications were private and impossible to crack unless they also had a Miraculous. Which is why she’s using the Miraculous Communicator to call Batman.

Damian winces, then speaks into the offered phone.

“Batman, it’s Robin. I need to verify my identity in order to proceed.”

“Are you with Ladybug?”

So he is on a mission, then, and not just playing hooky. If Batman is involved, Marinette has no doubt the rest of the Justice League will follow soon. This will be a dreadfully unpleasant call.

“I’m making it a video call,” Marinette says. “And no, he’s not with Ladybug. I’m Ladybug’s point of contact, and she doesn’t take kindly to people encroaching on her territory without permission.”

“Robin, what happened?” Batman isn’t accepting her video request.

Marinette cuts off whatever Damian is about to say. “Damian was suspicious; I reported his activities to Ladybug and she believed that he could be Hawkmoth. Then, she caught him on the roofs and took him back to my place after verifying that he wasn’t Hawkmoth. Video call, Batman. I’d like to see that you are who you say you are, before I send Robin back to the states.”

“She knows your civilian identity? Two people know that you’re Robin?”

“Turn your video on. If you can’t prove that you are who Damian says you are, Ladybug and I will do everything in our powers to deport him and make sure that the Justice League is not allowed in Paris again. Ladybug said that she doesn’t need any unknowns in her city, and I’ve been hoping Robin came here of his own volition. It sounds like that isn’t the case.”

Marinette thinks that Batman curses in English, but she’s not sure. Fluent though Marinette may be, she is not well versed in curses, colloquialisms, or American memes. The camera turns on. It’s Batman, or at the very least, an actor wearing a very good knock off costume.

It’s annoying that Marinette can’t see his eyes. There’s some white film where his eyes should be, and the fact that his cowl covers more than half of his face isn’t doing her any favors in letting her read his facial expression. She moves herself so that Batman can see both her and Robin.

“Why is Robin restrained?”

“Like I said: he was suspicious. I’m not taking any chances.”

A moment of silence.

“How do you want me to prove my identity?”

That’s good. He’s not asking who she is, though she’s sure that there are cameras pointing at the screen on Batman’s end, running facial analysis and background checks on her. The Miraculous magic will ensure that any connections between her and Ladybug will not come to light. Other than her identity as Ladybug, Marinette has nothing to hide.

“If you’re Batman, then you should have access to the League’s calls, European and otherwise. Play me the last video that Ladybug sent you. I know what she said.” She spares a glance at Damian. His jaw is tight, but when he looks at her, she finds what looks like regret. It’s not entirely Damian’s fault. A mission is a responsibility, and Marinette understands that in order to be a hero or vigilante, one must be willing to do anything to accomplish the mission. Really, she’s only Ladybug because she feels that heavy weight of the words duty and responsibility on her shoulders. Fu’s fault.

“Behave. If you try something, I’ll knock you out.” Marinette sets the communicator on her desk and eyes him. The zipties are so tight around his arms and legs that he is bleeding. Marinette feels a flash of sympathy, then pushes it away. It was his fault for-- why was he at fault, again?

“I have the video.” Batman sounds even peakier than when they started the call. He plays the video.

“Justice League. This is Ladybug. I rescind my requests for help; I can take care of Paris with my own team. Any help from you at this point would be a detriment and could potentially harm the citizens of Paris. Hawkmoth manipulates strong emotions, and I don’t need to handle a metahuman or tactical genius to gain more power to wreak havoc on my city. I will not contact you with any further requests for assistance.”

It’s an awful video. Marinette had to wait a day after the Heroes’ week fiasco just so her eyes wouldn’t be red. At least her voice doesn’t waver in it. There’s a conviction in the whole video that was unique to that moment.

Marinette looks at Batman, then at Robin.

“Clearly the Justice League refused to listen. Ladybug doesn’t want or need your help at this point in time. Why are you here?”

“The Justice League is at fault for not paying attention to Ladybug’s other videos. But Mayor Bourgeois and President Macron can only cover such alarming incidents for so long. Ladybug and her… team clearly need help in order to find and take down Hawkmoth, so once the American branch of the Justice League found out half a year ago, we started to investigate.” Batman speaks in lieu of Damian. Marinette briefly wonders if Damian knows who Batman is under the mask. She bets he does. They’re probably close, what with how worried Batman sounds.

“What makes you think that the Justice League is any better equipped to handle this situation? Ladybug and her team have been fighting for the past three years and resolved every akuma with no help from you. She needed your help in earlier years. Now she doesn’t.”

“Exactly; it’s been three years and she still hasn’t caught Hawkmoth.”

“You say that like the Justice League doesn’t have a team with more wealth and manpower than Ladybug does that’s been looking into Hawkmoth and the Miraculous for the past half year and clearly has not found any reasonable leads. Ladybug has only been actively looking for Hawkmoth for the past two years, not three. The police handled the first year, not that you’ve done any homework on the situation. Thought that a field agent would help your chances?”

There is fire in Marinette’s stomach. Batman sounds so dismissive of all of the work that she’s been doing. It’s been hard on her; she doesn’t have the support that she needs and doesn’t have the experience or expertise to hunt down Hawkmoth on her own. She trained briefly under Master Fu to learn spells and ways to expand her powers as Ladybug, but that was an equivalent exchange: she no longer trusts that other holders won’t be akumatized. Her growing cynicism and physical training from Maman came at the expense of Chat Noir; after the whole Lila incident in her first year as Ladybug, she found out that Chat Noir and Adrien were one and the same. And Gabriel Agreste is not afraid to use his son until Adrien is stretched far too thin, which forced Marinette to nearly bench her partner.

“Three years,” Batman says again.

“If the Justice League can’t figure it out nearly unlimited resources and funding in half a year-- both ordinary and super human-- then clearly it isn’t a question of time. It’s a question of capability. Get off your high horse, Batman. You haven’t given me any reasons why Ladybug and I shouldn’t deport Robin here, and you’re definitely not making a good case as to why she shouldn’t go to Mayor Bourgeois and France’s president to ensure that the Justice League and its affiliates and ban hero travel into Paris. Bourgeois already doesn’t want information on it’s supervillain situation to get out.”

“Marinette,” Damian pleads.

As Robin and as Damian, he doesn’t pose a threat. He hasn’t been helpful, but he certainly hasn’t messed with the status quo for the month that he’s been here. Still, he is a liability. If he stays in Paris, he is the gateway for the other members of the Justice League to fly in and try to commandeer the fragile balance that she has found. She can’t afford for something like that to happen.

“You’re not any better, Robin. Why did you even hang around me? Thought I was a threat?” Her eyes narrow in realization. It makes sense why he decided to hang out with her, despite his initial cold front. He was playing a role.“You thought I was Hawkmoth.”

His silence is an agreement.

“We just want to help,” Damian says, and against her better judgement, Marinette believes him.

Her shoulders round, and Marinette sighs. She can’t truly begrudge Damian for that train of thought, not when she believed the same about him. She’s been a little harsh on them so far, in part due to old resentment that they never responded to her in that first, awful year when she needed the help.

There’s a dull tiredness that comes with knowing someone who she considered one of her closest friends suspected her of being a supervillain, though she did believe the same of him, so maybe they’re even. It still hurts, though. It hurts like when Alya decided that Marinette was mean-hearted enough to stop the members of their class from reaching their full potential. It hurts like when Marinette finally realized that she couldn’t repair their friendship, not to what it used to be. It hurts like when she looked around the classroom and realized that she couldn’t talk to anyone there. It hurts like when Marinette decided that she couldn’t risk helping her friends the way she wanted to.

“What kind of help can you offer us? We don’t need any more of you to come out here.” Resources are nice. More money to fund therapy programs around town won’t hurt. Master Fu doesn’t help on that part. Really, he doesn’t help at all. Even though she has Chat Noir and had a team, she often feels like it’s herself against the world. Some days, she reaches up to her earrings and feels an aching emptiness, like there’s something more to the Miraculous that’s been sealed away.

“We can give you resources. Money, connections, experience. Robin is good with technology. He can help you track down where Hawkmoth is.”

Marinette’s laugh is bitter. “Sure, he can try, but the butterflies Hawkmoth sends out aren’t visible by the normal human eye or electronically until they’ve found their mark. Once they’re purified, they’re just normal butterflies, and they go off in random directions.”

“Normal human eye? It sounds like there are exceptions.” Damian readjusts himself. He has fidgeted his way into an uncomfortable looking seiza position, where his ankles are bleeding.

“A true holder can see the butterflies at all times.”

Marinette also decides to throw them a bone so there’s no questions as to why a mere civilian is working with Ladybug. “That’s why Ladybug recruited me. I was Multimouse.”

Multimouse was in the file that Damian sent his father, but he asks, just to make sure. “The one that can split itself?”

“That’s correct. I guess now is as good a time as any for the two of you to get your questions answered.”

“Why are you the point of civilian contact instead of any of the other more frequently used heroes? Didn’t you appear only once?” Damian avoids looking Marinette in the eyes, and that makes her feel slightly better. He’s ashamed of his actions. Good.

“Ladybug said that the other hero’s civilian forms were either compromised or not in a good position.”

“Ladybug knows who all the holders are.” Batman speculates. He looks less tense now that Damian is no longer tied up, but his voice remains gravelly and distrubed. Maybe that’s what he sounds like all the time. “Who else knows? Do you?”

“Only Ladybug knows.” Marinette lives in half truths. She’s not sure that they’re much better than lies, but they’re all she has. Secrecy is the only thing Master Fu has sincerely taught her.

“Why have all the other heroes disappeared?”

“Ladybug said that it was too dangerous for someone who could be akumatized to hold a Miraculous. Rena Rage, Shell Shock, Queen Wasp-- they were all frighteningly powerful akumas. It’s also why Chat Noir has been showing up less and less; his home life is not the best, and she’s trying her best to ensure that he doesn’t get akumatized.”

“She’s not worried for herself or,” Damian’s eyes flick to Marinette, away from Batman. “For you?”

“She knows that both of us are good at dealing with stress. We have our own methods of coping.” She looks at Damian, her mouth tightening into a frown. “If you want to stay in Paris, I’ll cut you a deal. We can work together for two weeks, and if we don’t get any results, you have to leave and the Justice League must promise that they won’t interfere again.”

“Two weeks isn’t enough time,” Damian objects.

“If you don’t think it’s enough time, just leave now. I’ll say now that I’m only willing to work with you during the night. That’s the time I work on Miraculous related stuff now, anyways. And stay out of the akuma battles.” She doesn’t actually think that working together will help anyways, and she wants Damian gone sooner rather than later. He’s been making her feel too much and emotions that are far more explosive and easy to take advantage of than Marinette has in a long time. She doesn’t want to be targeted by an akuma because of her inner conflict.

“Two weeks, then,” Batman agrees. “Robin can contact me if you need any extra resources.”

Marinette hangs up and assesses Damian. He looks almost pitiful, with bruising around his eyes, tousled hair, a ripped suit, and cuts where his skin is exposed. She opens her trap door in a clear gesture for him to depart. Downstairs is dark; her Maman and Papa have long since gone to sleep, and it’s only a few more hours until they wake up to start baking. “We start tomorrow. If you need Ladybug for anything, tell me.”

He’s half way down the ladder when he looks back up at Marinette, into her eyes.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

Marinette can’t breath. She feels like vomiting. His eyes are so green in comparison to the purple bruising on his face. She did that to him. She made him look that way. All she’s ever wanted to do as Ladybug is protect the people she cared for. But Damian-- Marinette doesn’t know. She doesn't know whether what Damian has done can actually be described as bad. He was just trying to do what Batman told him to do. Keeping an eye on a threat. Marinette wonders how long he thought she was Hawkmoth. She wonders if he ever thought they were friends.

“I’m sorry too,” Marinette says, and shuts the trap door.

They’re both sorry for very different things.

#miraculous ladybug #dcu #mlb x dc #maribat #daminette #batfam #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayso #barbara gordon #sbgs #original content #adrien agreste #lila rossi #marinette dupain cheng #damian wayne

212 notes · View notes

classic80sand90smovieloves2 · 4 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Bishop

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

- You met Bishop when he was stationed on the same ship as you. He was your teams resident artificial person and was tasked with keeping the ship up and running, as well as dissecting, examining and inspecting the alien life that your team was supposed to be finding.

- You were a new recruit so you felt a bit out of place when you awakened from your hypersleep. Being surrounded by strangers in the middle of space is a bit jarring.

- It was meal time when the two of you actually met. You were the last one inside the room and felt a bit awkward finding a place amongst the nearly full table, especially since the rest of your crewmates already seemed so friendly with each other.

- But you couldn't just stand around and starve so you took your time grabbing your food and looking around the table to try and find a spot you could take up. That was when a voice came from beside you.

“You must be Y/n. I’m Bishop, I’ll be working with you in the lab.” Glancing up, you were met with a slightly cold yet inviting face. You quickly dropped your utensils onto your tray and took his outstretched hand, giving him a smile.

- The two of you made conversation as he led you over to the table, purposefully taking a seat with enough space beside it for you to sit in. To say that you were grateful for the simple act of kindness was an understatement. You could have kissed him ...and maybe, deep down, you actually wanted to.

- Over the next few months, you and the android grew close, working side by side and leaning more about each other. He was sweet and made you feel welcome on the ship that seemed slightly terrifying just a few weeks prior.

- To be honest, you’d felt a bit silly when you first realized that you had feelings for him. He was synthetic after all; you weren’t sure if he could even feel love the way humans could. But it seemed as though fate was on your side since it wasn’t long before he confessed his feelings to you.

- The two of you were in the lab; as per usual, when he asked if he could talk to you about “something ...personal”. You agreed and soon enough he was telling you that he was fairly sure that he was in love with you. To his delight, you confessed that you loved him back and the two of you went back to your work with smiles on your faces.

- You had your first date late one night when everyone else had already gone to bed. He’d approached you after dinner and asked you to follow him, taking you down a few deserted hallways and leading you to a big window that was sat in one of the secluded corners of the ship. When you looked outside, you were met with one of the most beautiful views of space you had ever seen.

- The two of you sat there for a long time, saying nothing yet perfectly content in the silence. It was there that he kissed you for the first time, bathed in the blue hues from the window and with no one around to disturb you. It was perfect, everything you could have ever hoped for and more.

- After that, there was no way you could ever part from him and him from you.

- He likes Pda but he prefers to keep it to a minimum just to remain professional. He usually just wraps an arm around your waist or kisses your cheek, little things like that.

- Something tells me that Androids are cold; like whenever you kiss him or touch his skin, it’s like you’re touching something that isn��t alive. It’s something you’ll certainly have to get used to.

- He holds your hand in both of his whenever the two of you talk or are just sitting together. It’s sort of just a habit of his.

- On that note, he loves feeling your touch. The warmth and softness of your hands is incredibly comforting to him. He’s never felt anything like it.

- Bishops extremely curious about human life so he’s happy to have someone who’s willing to divulge some information. He’s going to ask you a lot of questions, some generic and some personal. He finds you incredibly fascinating and has no problem telling you that.

- He could sit and listen to you talk about nothing for hours; and sometimes he actually does. Your voice is alluring to him.

- He doesn’t quite understand nicknames or pet names. Don’t you like your name? He likes your name, why would you want to hear anything else?

- Bishop is somewhat eager for acceptance. Not a ton of people treat him as a full fledged member of the team or completely human so he finds your relationship to be both refreshing and touching.

- Getting to see all of his little knife tricks.

- Androids have enhanced speed and strength so he tries his best to be careful and gentle with you; which he pretty much is just by nature. He never wants to accidentally hurt you.

- He isn’t quite sure how to react to affection when you first start your relationship. He feels the urge to thank you whenever you kiss his cheek.

- Your beds aren’t the biggest so cuddling is a bit of a challenge at times. He’s pretty skinny so you could be able to spoon; or he’s perfectly fine with you laying on top of him.

- Long hugs. He likes to press his cheek against the top of your head whenever you wrap your arms around each other.

- Stealing kisses whenever you can. He leans down and presses a kiss to your lips whenever he goes to look over your shoulder at something.

- For someone whose never been kissed, he’s a surprisingly good kisser. Firm yet soft and surprisingly passionate when the two of you have no way of being interrupted.

- Wearing his dog tags around the ship. He likes to tell you that they look better on you.

- Name a “person” more selfless than Bishop. This man would quite literally die for you. You constantly have to remind him to look out for himself and that he deserves to have a life outside of helping others.

- He’s fairly reserved, mainly keeping to himself during the day though he does enjoy having your company. He likes when you sit with him in the lab while he does his work, your presence makes things more fun.

- Spending long nights together, you’re either working in the lab or trying to make up for the lack of time the two of you get with each other during the day without having to work.

- He loves compliments, mainly because he rarely ever gets them. Doing a good job is sort of just expected of him so whenever you treat it like it’s more than nothing, he’s in utter bliss.

- Sharing food. He’s always happy to give you some of his.

- Getting shown the most beautiful parts of the universe around you. He likes showing you them, watching the expression on your face and taking in the sight of your amazement as the colors of the scene are painted across your face.

- He’ll explain his programming to you without a second thought if you seem the least bit put off or frightened by him, or if you just ask.

- He is a technician so if you ever have a problem with anything aboard the ship or at home, just let him know and the problem will be resolved in minutes.

- He gets offended when people aren’t polite to him and will take particular offense when they aren’t polite to you. He doesn’t like people who don’t treat you with respect and behaves coldly towards them whenever he sees them.

- Manners mean something to him so you best believe he uses his. Chivalry is not dead, it’s just not human.

- He always remembers your anniversary and birthday. He’s insists on getting you something, even if you tell him you don’t want anything.

- Well, you’re sort of stuck on a spaceship so the two of you can’t have too many “real” dates. You have to get creative if you want to something special. Otherwise, he’s perfectly content with having a relaxing night in.

- Board games. They’re a fun way to pass the time and he likes keeping somewhat busy.

- He always stays by your side whenever he can. At meal time, he’ll always take a seat next to yours or keep you close as he grabs your plates. You’re tasked with holding said plates when Hudson asks him to do something.

- Hudson; and some of the others, definitely tease the two of you. The moment they find out about your relationship, they are on your ass about it and won’t leave you alone for like a week.

- I get this feeling that he’s a good cook and that he finds cooking to be entertaining. It’s sort of like the work he does but without as much potential danger.

- He loves when the two of you get back from missions and can live somewhat normal lives. Being able to go on dates, and act like a real boyfriend is heaven.

- While he is very human-like, he doesn’t quite feel emotions the same way humans do. He does feel them, but not to the extent of organic beings. They’re sort of calmed down a bit, like they’ve been watered down.

- With that being said, some of his reactions to things are a bit lackluster though he does try to exaggerate his responses a bit. He wants you to know that he cares and is feeling the same thing you are, just in his own synthetic way.

- He doesn’t really get jealous but whenever he does, he’s too confused by his feelings to really register what he’s actually upset over. If you ask him if he ever gets jealous, he’ll reply with a no, if you ask him again, he’ll jokingly ask you if he should be.

- He’s always looking out for you. It could be because he’s protective of you or just because he cares, but the main point is that he has your back and isn’t going to let anything happen to you.

- Is he your boyfriend or is he your father, sometimes it’s hard to tell. He warns you about things like you’re a little girl and makes sure you’ve eaten and slept enough or are wearing enough clothes to stay warm. It’s both touching and slightly hilarious.

- He’s the perfect partner to have if you’re shy or the runt of the litter; so to speak. He doesn’t let people push you around or leave you out of things.

- The two of you rarely ever fight. He isn’t programmed to hurt people so you have to understand that whatever he may have done to upset you was purely accidental or against his own control. Whenever he does manage to hurt you, he always calmy apologizes and tells you that it wasn’t his intention.

- He doesn’t say he loves you very often but he does say it. He’ll usually say the words when he’s going somewhere or doing something risky, or when it’s just really warranted.

- Now, I’m not sure on the rules of Android and human marriage but I do know that you have a long and loving relationship ahead of you.

#80s movie imagine #80s movie headcanons #80s movie headcanon #80s movie imagines #aliens imagines #aliens headcanons #aliens headcanon #aliens imagine #bishop imagine #bishop headcanons #bishop headcanon #lance bishop imagine #lance bishop headcanons #lance bishop headcanon

86 notes · View notes

myhauntedsalem · 3 years

Photo

Funeral Home Workers Describe The Creepiest Thing They’ve Witnessed On The Job

1. Corpse sits up all by itself

“My neighbor awhile back before I moved was a mortician. One night he had a body he was preparing for a very early morning wake or service (whatever was going on, it was unusual, and it required him to work into the wee hours of the morning on this particular corpse).

So as he’s working on it, he turned his back to grab some tools or supplies, and the angle he was standing at with regard to the corpse left the body visible just out of the corner of his eye.

As he was looking down at whatever tools he was getting, in the corner of his eye he saw the body slowly start to sit up.

His fight/flight instinct immediately kicked in, and he ran to the stairs as fast as he possibly could, but he was so clumsy trying to get up the stairs he tripped and was pretty much crawling and clawing his way to the top.

He was just near the top before his senses finally came back, and he knew it was rigor mortis. He collected himself and started to laugh at how absurd it all was.

He had been doing this for 15 to 20 years at that point, and he had never had a freak out like that before where instinct overtook knowledge and experience.

He actually sheepishly admitted he had to go clean himself because he had soiled his pants in the panic.”

2. Dead man holds on to medical technician

“I used to work in tissue recovery. My least favorite part was prepping a donor for recovery, as it included shaving the arms/legs. Once, we had a donor who was very freshly deceased. I held his hand to shave his arm, and his fingers curled around my hand as rigor mortis set in.

That was exceptionally creepy.”

3. They groan as they are moved

“If the deceased have a lungful of air, then moving them causes it to release. When the air travels through their throat, you get some minor vocalization, but it’s usually just a liquidy gurgle. It still gets me sometimes, though, if I’m working alone.”

4. Lights flicker every time a new body is brought in

“I’m a nurse, and the only place I’ve ever seen the lights flicker is just outside the morgue. They are fine almost all of the time but when we bring a body down the lights always flicker. Really creeps me out.”

5. A body shivers in the presence of a living one

“I was filling out paperwork over one of the bodies while working late when it shuddered. Never saw that before or after, no explanation.”

6. Funeral home lights go on and off by themselves

“I’ve only experienced something one time and that was around 10PM, after two years with no activity at the location. I had turned all the lights off in the chapel, and when I went to check the casket door, the lights turned back on. I was nowhere near the switch.”

7. Ceremonial doves are devoured by hawks

“I’m a funeral director/embalmer and I have seen… just so many bad funerals. One that really stood out was the time that a family released doves in a rural cemetery, after being told not to, and a hawk ripped one to pieces.”

8. A woman with a glass eye requested it be left open for her service

“I was a part-time funeral director’s assistant. We once had an elderly woman with a glass eye who requested it be kept wide open for the service. Gave me a hell of a fright when I saw her in her casket.”

9. Man has his dead dog waiting for him at funeral home

“My mother worked in a funeral home. One day, she was asked to go up in the attic to look for some old records, and came across a baby coffin. She went to move it with her foot, and could tell it wasn’t empty. Immediately went back downstairs and asked the director about it.

Apparently it’s a client’s embalmed dog that’s being stored until he dies, so that they can be buried together upon his death.”

10. Identical twin shows up to funeral in the same outfit as his deceased brother

“My mom works in the funeral business. Sometimes I would come to work with her and help her set up the chapel for a service.

One service in particular was of a little boy who drowned. His parents dressed his identical twin brother in the same outfit as him for the funeral.”

11. Funeral workers dress as clowns for a funeral

“We had a clown one time. This person was buried in full clown costume with makeup and all.

At the family’s request, the funeral directors were clowns too. They supplied costume and did our makeup. Family and friends had one teardrop painted on near the eye.”

12. Funeral tech is asked to clean eyes that aren’t there

“One of the creepiest for me was having to clean a gentleman up…I was supposed to clean his eyes, as well.

Opened those up only to see two empty sockets. No eyes. Apparently, it was a post-autopsy embalming.”

13. A man punches a corpse while paying his last respects

“I worked at a funeral home for a while when I was a teenager. After an open casket viewing a man came in saying he wanted to pay his respects privately. No big deal, that is fairly common.

We led him into the viewing room, opened up the casket and told him to take his time.

A couple of minutes later we’re sitting in the office and hear a really loud popping sound, followed by running and the door slamming.

We ran into the viewing room and the deceased’s mouth was hanging open and the skin was odd looking. The best we can figure is that he punched the guy and took off”

14. Woman tries to steal her child’s body during the funeral

“I have a sad one from a funeral director’s perspective. Separated parents were mourning the loss of their toddler at the visitation before the funeral. The mom was grieving unlike any mother I’ve seen grieve over the loss of a child – almost fake.

She proceeded to pick up the deceased child, “hide” him in her coat, and walked out the door when no one was looking.

The other funeral director I work with found the mom running to her car where he stopped her and grabbed the kid. We found out two months later that the mother and her new boyfriend had physically abused the kid.”

15. Decomposition so bad, that cremation was only viable option

“A man was brought into us after lying dead in his garage for 3 weeks in the summertime. He was covered in bugs, his skin was black and green, and the skin sloshed right off the bone. I couldn’t do anything for that case, he was cremated.”

16. Woman’s hair and nails keep falling out

“We were prepping and washing the body of a 90 year old woman. One of her toenails fell off, and the hair on her head kept falling out. It took a good 3 hours to get her hair put back in one strand of hair at a time to make it look acceptable.”

17. A man brings his new girlfriend to his wife’s funeral

“Both my parents are funeral directors. At one service, the wife of an older gentleman had passed away. The widower showed up to the funeral with his new girlfriend who was much younger and was wearing a very revealing outfit.

Whenever the husband would begin to cry, the girlfriend would bring his head to her bosom to comfort him while stroking his hair.

Shortly after the ceremony ended, the husband asked one of the funeral directors about the flowers from the funeral.

He wanted to know if he could take them with him for the wedding he was having that weekend with his new fiancé.”

#Funeral Home Workers Describe The Creepiest Thing They’ve Witnessed On The Job #paranormal #ghost and hauntings #ghost and spirits #haunted salem #myhauntedsalem

40 notes · View notes

dustofbrokenheart · 4 years

Text

The Covenant Halloween Party Imagines

Caleb

He will pick a conventional costume, nothing too flashy. A doctor costume, complete with blue scrubs, a white overcoat, and a stethoscope, practically screams Caleb Danvers.

But will agree to do a couple’s costume with you. Just let him know what you have planned and he’ll make sure to get it ready by the big party.

Caleb picks you up in his cool Mustang to take you to the party and gives you a simple flower bouquet. He gives you gifts all the time but you still become giddy whenever you get one.

Once you’re settled in the car, he leans over the center console to give you a tender kiss, his fingers caressing your cheek. You hold hands the entire drive over.

At the party you plan to hit up the snacks and drinks first, but, being the popular boy that he is, Caleb is stopped every couple of steps by someone that wants to talk to him.

He looks at you with apologetic eyes with every new stop and you lean into him reassuringly each time. Sometimes you wished he was a little more anonymous around, but you tried not let it bother you—you knew what you were getting into when you guys got involved.

Finally, the food is within reach and Caleb makes sure to pile your plate high with what you tell him to grab. It’s chips, dips, cucumber chunks, and fruit pieces galore.

Some chairs open up and Caleb and you book it over there before anyone else can snag them.

You two take your time snacking, commenting on what other party goers are doing around you.

“Wow! Look at that make-up job! It’s gorgeous,” you gush while looking at someone with silver stars painted on their face. “Not as gorgeous as you,” Caleb assures. You shove some cucumber in his mouth to shut him up before he can make you more flustered.

After the plates of snacks are finished, you walk around looking for the next thing to do.

You pull Caleb to a stop when you see a game of Jenga in process in the corner. Caleb and you exchange a look and immediately go over to wait for the start of a new game.

When it’s your turn, you pull the block out with the utmost concentration, your tongue sticking out and your brow furrowed. Caleb goes next and when he also pulls a block out successfully, you cheer your loudest to show support for your boyfriend.

The rounds continue and the tower slims down block by block. On Caleb’s last turn he chooses a risky piece, saying, “Go big or go home.” The tower immediately rumbles and his hand is surround by fallen blocks.

Onlookers give him crap for it, but he takes it like a good sport. You hook your chin over his shoulder and while stroking his shoulders whisper in his ear, “Guess it’s time for us to go home then.”

Pogue

He’s comfortable showing skin, but he also isn’t the type to spend money on a costume. He will try to pull something together from what he already has at home. Grabs jeans and leather chaps to pair with a cowboy hat and calls it good—no shirt or jacket needed.

Much like Bon Jovi, Pogue rides a steal horse and will pick you up on his sweet Ducati bike, so hope that you are wearing something that will be comfortable to ride in for your own sake.

How is it possible for him to feel hot to the touch when it was an October night in Massachusetts and he wasn’t wearing anything up top?

When you arrive, Pogue parks the bike and helps you off. Wrapping his bare, heavy arm around your shoulder, you head inside together.

He takes the lead and acts as a shield between you and the rest of the crowd. He keeps his arm around you. Everyone at the Academy knows you two are an item but Pogue knows how some of the other classmates are, so this way he can keep any creeps from bothering you.

Pogue complains when he finds out the only thing there to eat s candy corn. Not a fan. But he will go to get the drinks after you’re situated with a seat. Before he leaves, he takes off the cowboy hat and places it on your head. It doesn’t match your costume at all, but you learned early on that he loves seeing you wear his stuff, so you’re not phased at all.

He’s gone for a while, so you figure he must have run into someone he knows. Suddenly, someone else joins you at your table. You feel a little awkward since you don’t know this guy, but he doesn’t seem drunk or rowdy, so you allow it.

That may have been a mistake because even though he doesn’t try engaging you in conversation, he keeps staring at you. Blatant looks that he doesn’t bother hiding. It is terribly uncomfortable.

Pogue must have read you mind because he returns to you just as you were starting to squirm. He immediately notices the unwanted guest and sizes him up. “Hey babe, everything cool?”

He doesn’t even have to speak to the other guy to confront him—Pogue’s stare is enough to scare anyone.

You sigh in relief as Pogue now takes the empty seat. “Thanks,” you say, leaning into his bare chest. “Any time,” he responds with a kiss to your temple.

The two of you drink and talk at the table. Both of you stick to beer knowing that the hard stuff would be a bad idea given that you have to leave on a motorcycle.

At one point someone tries to drag Pogue to join the costume contest that was taking place. They swear that his cowboy look is a shoe-in to win (and a clear thirst trap, you think to yourself) but he wants to part of it. For a guy confident in his looks, he isn’t interested in parading himself around.

Later on, you hear one of your favorite songs start to play over the speakers and start dancing from the comfort of your chair. Pogue smirks over at you. “If you wanna come dance on my lap, I won’t say no.” Your face burns in embarrassment. But you do end up in his lap by the end of the night.

Reid

Will definitely do a bros couple costume with Tyler. Is there a more perfect choice than doing Ghostface from Scream? It’s scary, simple, and there were two killers canonically in the original!

You plan to meet him at the party and when you get there he makes you guess which Ghostface is him. Gives himself away because he asks you in person, immediately revealing his voice, and the fact that he’s the one on the left.

Reid is one of those people that look ridiculous when trying to be cool and suave, but pull it off flawlessly when they aren’t.

When you giggle behind your hand at his goof up he removes his mask. He scratches his neck and rolls his eyes. “It wasn’t that funny, princx.”

To put him at ease you go over and squeeze his hand. He accepts your nonverbal apology and squeezes back.

Leading you deeper into the house his first course of action is to get you something to sip on. He’ll let you choose whatever, but if you can’t decide, he’ll mix something yummy for you.

The alcohol loosens you up and you drag him out to the dance floor because you want to dance with your man. Reid will indulge you for a song or two before pulling away. Dancing isn’t really his thing.

He has no problem letting you do your thing while he does his. He stays close though, in case you need back-up dealing with a pushy party goer.

The second someone tries getting touchy with you, to the point that you have to shove them away from you, that person suddenly start vomiting all over themselves. Before you can question what just happened, Reid is there to whisk you to the corner where he’s in the middle of a game of darts.

You act as his personal cheerleader and go crazy every time he throws.

Even though he’s paying more attention to you, and frequently sneaks in kisses that leave you breathless, he manages to smoke the other players. They all grumble but hand over $20 each before starting another round.

“Reid, that’s way too much money, especially for a party game! Give the money back,” you insist. “Sorry, Y/N, but a bet’s a bet.” You raise your eyebrow stiffly and he gives in, complaining the whole time.

As a reward for his good behavior, you curl your finger at him and drag him to an empty room where you two spend the rest of the party, lips locked and bodies pressed tightly together.

Reid is in nirvana and contemplates other ways to get rewarded like this.

Tyler

Does a bros couple costume with Reid. Quickly persuaded by Reid to go along with the Ghostface idea.

Unless, of course, you have your heart set on doing a couples costume with him. Because then he dismisses Reid’s idea and is behind you 100%.

Tyler arrives and you rush to open the door, eager to show off your part of the costume in person. He melts when you spin around your porch so he can fully appreciate the look. You take a few cute photos of you guys together and then head to the Hummer.

You are not surprised to see Reid in the car too, but it is surprising that he isn’t at the wheel. Tyler gives you a jokingly wounded face. “Come on, Y/N, I can be tough with him when I need to.”

The Hummer pulls up to the party and Tyler opens the door, holding out his hand to help you out of the car. Tyler shoos Reid away so you two can enjoy your date night.

He’s actually the one that asks you to dance. You’re really thankful that he knows you so well—you love to dance but you’re fairly shy and too self-conscious to take the initiative.

You two don’t take yourselves seriously at all which makes dancing even more fun. You do a sock-hop shimmy type of move and Tyler does his best attempt at moonwalking. When Thriller comes on you both lose your minds. Neither of you really know the choreography, but you try you try your best to recreate the moves.

The song ends and you hug, laughing the whole time. There’s no way the moves you pulled out for Thriller can be topped so you exit the dance space.

Tyler and you wander around for a bit, stopping to chat whenever you come across someone you know.

Eventually, you find yourselves outside on the back porch. The energy from inside dies down with the quiet outdoors which inspires a walk through the backyard. It’s the perfect fall night: a luminous full moon, the crunch of fallen leaves, and a chill in the air.

Speaking of chill, your costume is thin enough that you get cold within ten minutes. Tyler notices and plops down at the base of a tree. He pats his lap and you sit in between his legs, your back against his chest.

He rubs his hands up and down your arms and you swear that you start to feel heat spread from his hands to your body. It’s weird, almost like magic.

“You look so good tonight,” he says quietly, “You really do. Thanks for coming with me.”

Tyler always makes your heart race when he starts talking like this. You give him a gentle peck on the lips that turns into something more passionate. But you’re still at a party and before things can escalate too far, you pull away. The two of you were content to sit under the tree, whispering and lost in your own little world.

#the covenant #caleb danvers #pogue parry #reid garwin #tyler simms #sons of ipswitch #imagines

67 notes · View notes

words-for-holland · 4 years

Text

Happier (5) | T.H.

Summary: Harry and Harrison made it to New York without witnesses. One secret is revealed and a relationship could be broken up for good. What will the future hold for Y/N and Tom?

A/N: Everybody buckle up and grab your tissues, we’re in for a bumpy ride. Lemme know how you feel after this! Was it what you expected??

Guilt

It’s one thing to keep a secrets, but it’s another thing when you’re hiding it from the people you love. For Kate, she was becoming consumed in her own guilt as each day passed. Everyday her breaths would shorten, her heartbeat quicken, and her conscience relentlessy invading her inner thoughts. Kate tried to find all the possibilities to avoid the truth, and make everyone happy...but it didnt matter. One way or another, someone was going to get hurt.

Kate stood in front of Harrison and Harry at her doorstep. While she was relieved and excited to see them, a slight tinge of fear was present. “How are you going to find out the truth?” She asks calmly as Harrison and Harry made their way into the apartment. Kate picked up her phone, checking for an message. None showed up.

“Well, we might have found something. A clue maybe, but we’re not sure.” Harry explained as he picked up his macbook, turning it on.

“Is Y/N here?” Harrison asked, and as if on cue she appeared, heavy bags under her eyes.

The moment Y/N laid eyes on the two, she couldn’t believe it. Her hands quickly rubbing the sleep from her eyes, almost convinced it was a dream. “What? Harry? Harrison? What are you guys doing here?” Y/N excitedly asks. She made her way towards the boys giving them a long awaited hug. “I missed you guys.” She whispers.

“We want to help you.” Harrison says as he pulled away. “The unknown number? We might have an idea.”

Y/N looked at them suspiciously, checking her phone for cryptic messages. “Does anyone know you’re here?”

They both shook their head. “We didn’t tell anyone back home. As far as anyone knows, Harrison and I are going on a 3 day hike with little reception.” Harry reassured her with his boyish smile. Y/N look at him with admiration. He may not look like his brother, but his tone had Tom written all over it.

“Great. Just make sure your location is off on your phones..they could be watching us.” Kate warned as she checked her phone again.

Harrison looked at Kate with sympathy. In the years he’s known her because of Y/N and Tom’s relationship, she always seemed to be the sweetest most loyal friend out there. He was happy that Y/N had someone like Kate in her life. Not to mention it was also a plus that she was fairly pretty, even with the worry written all over face, she was still beautiful to Harrison.

“Hey.” Harrison spoke out for Kate’s attention. “We’re gonna figure this out. I promise.” While Kate nodded, she silently knew that this was not going to end well.”

“Wait...so Tom? Is he—?” Y/N asks the boys with anticipation.

Harrison knowing, exactly what Y/N was asking before she could even finished answered swiftly. “No! Of course not!” He laughs as if it was the silliest thing to answer. “Y/N, Tom loves you. He still does.”

“But the pictures..”

“Was a PR stunt set by Natalie’s publicists.” Harrison finished. “He’s doing a project that Natalie somehow got involved in, and they wanted a PR relationship to sell it. He didn’t want to at first, but then they showed him pictures of you and some div.”

“Hey he’s not some div! Matt’s a good guy.” Y/N defends. “Sweet actually, but I turned him down at the end of it. We’re just friends.”

Then it clicked. “Wait. You said that Tom saw the pictures?” Y/N asked trying to piece it together. “How did he get pictures?”

Harry and Harrison took a moment to think it through. “Well...Natalie’s publicist showed it to Tom.” Harry answered.

“But we don’t know where she got the pictures from.” Harrison added. “My money was on Natalie...still is.”

“Cmon mate. There’s no way she could have gotten pictures in New York and suddenly fly back to London.”

Kate slowly made her way to her own room, no longer wanting to be part of the conversation. They were getting too suspicious, and the more they questioned, the more nervous she got.

“Well maybe the unknown number sent it.” Harry said as he continued to be deep in his thoughts. “Or they found out on that fan account you found Harrison.”

“Wait? Fan account? They know?!” Y/N freaked out. Three years into making sure she was kept in the shadows, and it went all down the drain. If it there were fan accounts then it would only make it harder to finding out who really did sabotage her relationship. Let alone everyone’s lives.

“We don’t know yet, but Harrison found a fan account that was posting about Tom and you. Not together at least, but seperately. The weird part is...barely few people follow it, so we’re not sure what it means.” Harry explained, as he tried to pull up the account. “Oh no.”

“What? What do you mean ‘Oh no’?” Harrison panicked.

“I cant find the account.” Harrison said as he tried to pull it up, but the page disappeared.

In the nick of time, a message was sent to all three of them.

Unknown

Looks like you’re back to square 1 ❤️

“Shit! How did they know?” Harrison questioned in anger. “We were this close!”

“It’s okay Harrison. I appreciate that you guys tried, but it’s a lost cause.” Y/N consoled him, rubbing his shoulder.

“It won’t be. We’ll find another way.” Harry encouraged as he hugged them both. “By the way, where’s Kate gone?”

All three looked up to notice she was missing. Y/N waved it off, assuming it was just one of those days. “She probably went to bed early. Kate gets tired easily, nowadays. It might be because of her new job on top of watching out for me. Its a lot to take on for a person.”

The reasoning seemed valid enough Harrison and Harry. Plus it was Kate they were talking about, she always had Y/N’s back from day one, she wouldnt blackmail any of them or ruin Y/N and Tom’s relationship..right?

Late in the night, Harrison had trouble sleeping because of the jetlag. Since it only was a medicore 2 bedroom apartment, Harrison and Harry slept in the living room on the sofa bed. Luckily it was big enough for the both them and they didnt have to resort to cuddling. Harrison lied on his back as he looked out to the NYC view, thinking about everything and nothing at all. He smiled, thinking about it all. For a very serious couple, a lot of shit has gone down and yet here he was with trying to save it. He cared about the two so deeply, they were his family and family never turns their back on the other.

Then he heard something, whispers coming from the hall. Harrison didn’t dare to make a move but he trained his ears to listen carefully at the voice.

“Im telling you they are getting suspicious.” The voice whispered into the phone. It sounded like Kate’s and Harrison continued to listen in.

“No.No. I sent the damn pictures to you for a reason. No one told me that they would come here. I wasn’t prepared for that.” Kate continues as she paces in the corner.

Pictures? Harrison was awake more than ever, as he quickly shook Harry, and told him to stay quiet. They continued to listen.

“Look I did everything I was told to do. She got what she wanted, now —” Kate stopped in her tracks as she saw Harry and Harrison in front of her. Immediately she dropped the call, her lips moving, unable to find the words.

“How could you?” Harry said his brown eyes glaring at at the girl who just betrayed her best friend. “She was your best friend! How could you?!” He spoke louder.

Kate tried her best to quiet them down, but there was the point. She knew this day would come. “You don’t understand.” Kate whispers, looking at the ground. “I was only doing this to protect Y/N.”

“Protect Y/N? Blackmailing her? Sending pictures of her and a guy to Tom, so he would turn against her? That’s protecting her?” Harrison questioned, hurt by her actions. If he was hurt, then surely It would hurt Y/N far worse.

Y/N comes out of her room as she sees the three gather together, glaring at each other. “Hey..w-what’s going in?” She asks nervously.

“Why don’t you tell her Kate?” Harry spits out as he gestures to Y/N. Kate looks into her best friend’s eyes tears welling up. Y/N had fear struck into her face, afraid of what she had to say.

“I’m so sorry.” She cries. “I didn’t have a choice. She would have ruined our friendship if I did.”

“Kate. What.Did.You.Do?” Y/N asks, emphasizing each word to the question.

Kate shook her head as she let out a deep sigh. “Im the reason your pictured with Matt got out Tom.”

Y/N shook her head, tears streaming. She didn’t want to believe it. “Please tell me you’re lying.”

“Im sorry Y/N. I swear I didnt mean for this to get out of hand. I was threatened that if I didn share them, then they would say something that could ruin our friendship..and...I didnt want that to happen.” Kate frantically explains, sobbing at her no good explanation.

Y/N shook her head, her face switching from sadness to anger. “Looks like you didn’t need them to ruin it at all for you. Now you’re gonna tell me what you know and then Im packing my stuff and Im moving out.”

Kate sobbed as she try to plead to her ex-bestfriend to stay. “Look I’ll tell you everything okay, but it’s not much.” She takes a deep breath before she continues. “I was the one that started the rumors and created the fan account Harry and Harrison saw.”

“Why?” Y/N asks, her disappointed face unchanging.

“I was jealous of you at the time. Y/N you had everything I could have ever wanted in my life. A job, a boyfriend that doesn’t leave you, a family that loves you, and the fame which you didn’t even want to accept with open arms. You were always a step ahead of me at something and I was tired of it. So when you told me you felt uneasy about Natalie when she first moved in, I sold that info online and twisted the story so that it looked like Tom liked Natalie and they were a potential couple.”

“Oh my god.” Harrison said as he let his head down. “You made Natalie think that Tom was in love with her secretly thats why she had become so persistant.”

Kate slowly nodded as she took another breath. “As for the fan accounts I can’t tell you much because I was just asked to create them by the Unknown number.”

“Wait so you’re not the unknown number?” Harry asked confused.

Kate shook her head. “I don’t who it is. Im just a vicitim as much as you guys are.”

“No cut that bullshit. It’s because of you that all of our lives are a mess. It’s because of you that I had to lose the most important thing in my life. So don’t say you’re a fucking victim when all you really did was try to save your own ass.” Y/N yelled.

“You didn’t have to if you were so confident in your relationship with Tom.” She spat back.

“I love Tom with all my heart, but I was referring my best friend. I never want to see you again.” Y/N states, emotionless. No one had ever seen Y/N like this. In fact no one had ever seen her mad as she was on this very day. The day she lost her best friend.

Y/N went to her room to quickly gather her belongings, stuffing them back in the bag. Her phone was ringing and she didnt hesitate to pick it up.

“Tom...” she answers, holding back her sobs.

Taglist:

@hollanddolanfangirl @ifilosemyselfagain @hevjadams @averyfosterthoughts @fangirl-with-a-mission @drishtisikarwar @eridanuswave @ifntelyinspirit @trumpettay @astridcommings @parkershoco @racewife2004 @sleepybesson

#tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #peter parker #peter parker imagine #peter parker x reader

165 notes · View notes

tact-and-impulse · 4 years

Text

Basically, since I saw the novel translation that Akane meets with Kougami’s mom, my mind ran wild with speculation. Spoilers for up to First Inspector.

Stouthearted

Tomoyo is accustomed to living alone. Wake up, brush her teeth, have breakfast, check the news offered by her AI secretary.

The golden starfish cheerfully spins as it announces her Hue. “Mint green!”

“Thank you, Hoshiko.” She finishes her coffee, the bottom of the cup sweeter than the rest. She has a lengthy schedule for the weekend but just before she can bring it up, there’s a knock at her door, loud enough to scare Hoshiko into vanishing.

She fastens her bathrobe and runs a hand through her unruly hair. No one’s visited her in a long time. Uncertain and cautious, she only opens the door a crack, enough to see who this stranger is. “Hello?”

“Good morning!” Her visitor is a young woman, whose face is briefly obscured when she bows in greeting. Behind her, a storage drone patiently waits. “I’m sorry to disturb you. Inspector Tsunemori, from the Public Safety Bureau.” She holds up her ID in confirmation. “Are you Kougami Tomoyo-san?”

“Yes…please, come in.” Tomoyo pulls the door further. It’s best that whatever conversation will follow, it should happen inside.

“Ah, just a moment.” Tsunemori unlocks the drone and removes a box from the metal interior, almost too big for her to carry.

“Do you need help?”

“N-no, I’ve got it.” She sets it down and sighs with relief as Tomoyo closes the door.

“I know who you are.”

“Eh?”

“Well, a little.” She concedes. “Shinya called me now and then, and your name came up often. He said you were a good boss.”

It’s comforting to put a face to the name, and she does look young, but tragedy colors a person in a specific, indelible way. Tomoyo recognizes it as Tsunemori’s gaze clouds over. Her answer is strained. “Not as good as I would have liked to be.”

An awkward pause follows, before Tomoyo offers. “I was finishing breakfast. Would you like anything?” Even as she asks, she heads into the kitchen and grabs a cup.

“I don’t want to bother you-”

“No, not at all. It’s been a while since I’ve had a guest, so I apologize for the clutter. Tea? Coffee?”

Tsunemori gives a little smile. “Coffee, please. And I don’t mind, my apartment is far from organized. Oh.”

“What is it?”

“I just realized I might have made things worse for you. Um, the box has books and clothes. Personal items. Not the dishes though, the Bureau took them for reuse. Anyway, I thought, since you’re his mother, you would like his things.” The girl is very nervous, stumbling over her words, but she doesn’t break eye contact. It reassures Tomoyo.

“I would. Thank you very much.” She softly replies. “For now, unpacking can wait. Have a seat.”

They sit across from one another, Tomoyo having refilled her own cup halfway. She’s unsure of what to discuss; there must be protocol to adhere to, and she doesn’t want to make things more difficult for Tsunemori.

Thankfully, Tsunemori speaks first. “I’m sorry, if I interrupted any plans.”

“Nothing urgent. When you live alone for a long time, plans become flexible. I should be the one apologizing, if you’re on the clock.”

“No, it’s okay. I haven’t taken time off before, and this had to be done.”

Hm. She decides Tsunemori isn’t bad.

They sort through the box together. Tomoyo doesn’t recognize most of the books, the titles unfamiliar. The clothes also seem foreign, tinged with bitter cigarette smoke. She never did approve of that habit, and she frowns as she piles the different articles around her. And yet…underneath the acrid smell, it still smells like her boy.

One of the bulkier items is a fur-lined coat, something for the winter months. She sees the way the girl’s fingertips brush over the collar, how her eyes become weighted with melancholy.

“You can keep it.”

“Eh?” Tsunemori looks up at her, startled.

“I can’t keep everything in my place, and besides, you were his boss. Thank you for looking after my son.”

Tsunemori murmurs a half-hearted protest, but she folds the jacket in her lap. It goes with her when she leaves, and Tomoyo assumes that’s the end.

***

But it isn’t. Tsunemori continues to visit, every month or so. Each time is fairly short, enough to drink tea or coffee together. She’s a sweet young lady, unfailingly polite and conversational. They talk about nonconsequential things. The weather, novels, cooking tips. The latter proves to be a bountiful topic, since Tsunemori is inexperienced.

Once, Tomoyo asks about her work. She’s curious if anything’s changed since Shinya was an Inspector. It really hasn’t, and it doesn’t surprise Tomoyo, yet she can’t help but feel disappointed.

In turn, she describes a little of her job, that she analyzes data sent from the local hospital. The majority of her work is remote. She does not share why, though she’s certain Tsunemori can guess. Although the Sybil System can insist it only punishes criminals, family inevitably suffers too. They are carriers of some insidious factor or ticking bombs of the same defective nature but with longer fuses.

Tsunemori also doesn’t ask, though she receives an interrupting message. “Something just came up. I’ll see you later…Kougami-san.” It’s not the first time she’s hesitated addressing Tomoyo.

“Please, ‘Tomoyo-san’ is fine.”

She visibly relaxes. “Then, you can use my name too. It’s Akane.”

“Akane-chan it is.” And for the first time in a while, her smile feels natural.

***

On a rare night, she wakes up crying.

Hoshiko, dimmer in night mode, hovers over her. “Your Hue is Aquamarine. Would you like mental care?”

“This is my mental care. Tears are like stagnant water; sometimes, they need to flow out to feel better.” Satoru told her that once. She couldn’t remember where he read it from, but in moments like now, she could easily recall his voice. “And tears tire me out, I’ll go to sleep soon.” She forcibly shuts the AI down and dabs at her swollen eyes.

It takes an hour, but she does fall asleep again. In the morning, she dusts Shinya’s old room.

***

On her visits, Akane offers to help around the house, but she insists that the younger woman sit and relax.

“It’s enough that you keep an old lady like me company.”

“You’re not so old, Tomoyo-san.”

She gives Akane a flat stare. “But you must have friends your age, or a boyfriend or a girlfriend.”

“I do have friends, we meet up sometimes. As for a boyfriend, I’m too busy for one.” She pauses. “I hope your husband doesn’t mind me intruding.”

She’s perplexed for a moment before she remembers the steel band on her finger. “Oh, this isn’t a wedding ring.” Out of habit, she gives it a twist. “It’s an old gift from Shinya’s father, Satoru. We grew up on the same street, although he was ahead of me by two years. He helped me in my literature classes. Shinya has his father’s scholarliness. Always reading, always thinking inward.” She remembers glancing up from her essays, light pouring from her childhood bedroom window, to steal looks at Satoru’s thoughtful profile.

“It sounds like you still think highly of him.” Akane carefully says.

“I always will. When I was young, they had just introduced the compatibility matches. Satoru and I were a good match, but he had a better one with someone else. A rich girl, in the city across the lake. He left by boat to speak to the family in person, to explain that he couldn’t accept, but there was a bad storm. He drowned.”

There had been an investigation, a pair of detectives who had questioned her. In hindsight, they were very kind to her, but she was aggravated and terse and though she didn’t know it at the time, hormonal.

“You must have been very upset.” Akane softly says.

“My Psycho-Pass was…volatile. Crime Coefficients were not available then, and I’m not sure what mine would have been. But after I found out I was pregnant, I committed myself to living for the child.”

Her son was born in the dark, cold, early time before sunrise. Towards the end of her labor, she had been so exhausted, it took effort to breathe. Her eyelids felt weighted when the doctor urged her to see her baby. One look upon Shinya’s squalling little face, and she was no longer tired.

“My parents helped before they passed. Satoru’s family had pushed him to accept the other woman, so we weren’t close. But they sent money to Shinya, at least until he was an adult.” They cut off ties completely after his Hue clouded. “And now, he has no one, wherever he is.”

Tsunemori’s expression is troubled, but she doesn’t speak.

It’s been one year since her son vanished into the outside world. She wonders if he’s eating enough.

***

She dreams of traversing her high school’s corridors. She doesn’t know why she’s here. The faces of long-gone teachers and classmates blur around her. She has to leave, she can’t stay, though she doesn’t know why. She decides that it’s because Satoru isn’t here. The hallways seem so much longer, and the stairs widen at an exaggerated angle. Other students crowd around her, and it’s agonizing to finally reach the exit at the ground floor.

She opens the door, and runs headlong into the rehabilitation facility’s visiting area, almost colliding against the glass screen that separates her from her boy. Shinya’s in white robes, his face gaunt and unshaven. When he looks up at her, his eyes are shadowed from lack of sleep. His darkened Hue floats above his head, and she relives this memory, the dread of learning her son’s become a latent criminal.

He smiles at her in recognition, but it quickly turns bitter. “Sorry, Mama.”

***

“Your Hue is very clear. That’s quite surprising. Most parents in your situation fare worse.” Her therapist marvels.

“I do what I can. I get by.”

“Well, I think you can excel in group therapy.” A short explanation follows. “The advantages are well-documented. I believe you’d be a good addition. You can take your time to think it over.”

She’s given a pamphlet, which she pockets and leaves on her kitchen table. It stays there while she’s eating. This time last year, she would have thrown it away by now. She’s been self-sufficient for so long, it’s become her gut instinct to reject anything that disrupted her carefully crafted solitude. However…Akane’s presence has reminded her it could be pleasant to talk to other people. Healing.

She’ll go once, and then she can reevaluate if she needs to. After dinner, she has Hoshiko add group therapy to her schedule.

***

“You smell like cigarettes.” Tomoyo points out. “Have you picked up smoking?”

“Not exactly.” Akane looks embarrassed. “I just light them and leave them on an ashtray.”

“Secondhand smoke is still dangerous.”

“It isn’t too often. Only to help me think.” The connection to Shinya is blatantly obvious. Not for the first time, Tomoyo wonders what their relationship was. From what she recalled, Shinya had thought well of Akane; he had said she had an optimistic perspective and a detective’s instincts. Once, he mentioned she was kind. That was high praise from him. Tomoyo couldn’t forget it.

“I didn’t like it when Shinya started and I still don’t.” She bluntly says. “But as long as you’re careful, I won’t say any more.”

Akane nods. It’s not a promise to quit.

***

There’s a period of time when Akane doesn’t visit for three months. When she finally knocks on Tomoyo’s door, she’s welcomed with open arms.

“How are you doing, Akane-chan? I assumed your work was keeping you busy.”

“It was.” She stares blankly for a moment, before she crumples and begins to cry.

Immediately, Tomoyo helps her in and sits her down in the nearest chair. She grabs a tissue box and pushes it toward Akane, as she murmurs. “There, there. Take your time.”

Eventually, after a handful of wadded tissues, she’s able to speak. “…My grandmother passed away.”

“I’m sorry. You said you were close to her.”

She nods. “It was…very sudden.”

“Have you had mental care?”

“I have. My Hue’s alright. It still feels difficult though.” She looks so young, and Tomoyo remembers she’s only twenty-two.

“It might feel that way for a while, but it should pass. Your grandmother wouldn’t want you to suffer for her sake.” She reassures. She brings tea and water and crackers, while Akane recovers herself.

“Thank you.”

“Of course. Any time.”

Before Akane leaves, she seems pensive, in the way a question is brewing in her mind. But she doesn’t, only reiterating her gratitude. Tomoyo suspects she was going to inquire about how she copes. In truth, she doesn’t have a definitive mechanism. Maybe, she’s just accustomed to carrying the pain, so tightly embedded in her Hue that not even Sybil can filter it out.

***

“Even artificial flowers brighten up the place, hm?” Tomoyo says out loud, as she arranges a vivid bouquet in a vase. There is no reply from the porch. Sae stares emptily into the distance, the wind ruffling her hair.

Now that Nobuchika-kun’s become an Enforcer, he reluctantly requested that should she happen to be near Okinawa, that Tomoyo visit his mother. “She always seems a little better after she’s had company.”

Tomoyo wasn’t confident, but she wasn’t in a position to judge and she trusts Nobuchika-kun. Her work had no issue with extending her trip by a day, since it was for mental care. Well, she never said who it was for, but as long as it was to help someone else, she had no qualms about bending the truth.

Satisfied with her work, she steps out into the fresh air. She adjusts the blanket over the woman’s lap, though it’s hard to tell if she’s comfortable. A set of beautifully crafted chimes sways and emits a haunting melody. Sae doesn’t react, and Tomoyo feels an irrational anger. They’re not alike at all. She could never imagine being in such a state, she’d rather be dead. But it wasn’t Sae’s fault either. The other woman never asked to be like this, not her or the other eustress victims.

Tomoyo sighs. “I’m sorry. I’m not a very good companion. But…we do have something in common. We’re among the countless women in history who were left behind by the men we love.” Akane’s face also pops into her mind.

Movement in her peripheral vision draws her attention. Sae’s lips purse, as if she’s about to speak. But her expression relaxes again into a blank slate.

Her hands itch with the need to do something useful, so Tomoyo takes hold of Sae’s wheelchair. “Let’s go for a stroll. The weather’s so nice, isn’t it?”

At the end of the day, she tucks Sae into bed. The woman falls asleep almost instantly, like a child. Tomoyo leaves her be, with the drones to care for her.

***

“I met him in Shamballa.”

Tomoyo’s throat goes dry, as emotion floods over her. “How is he?”

Akane smiles. “He’s well. He’s alive and intact, the last time I saw him. He’s on the move, helping people. I told him I visit you, and he said thank you. And that you never show any weakness.”

Shinya’s alive. Four long years, and finally, she has something to hold onto. “As long as he’s still breathing, that’s enough for me.”

“I thought you would say that.” Her good humor slips. “I wasn’t able to bring him back though.”

She reaches out, to reassuringly pat Akane’s back. “To be honest with you, that might be for the best. As much as I want to see him, his Psycho-Pass…”

“I know. I just wish there was a way. And now that I’ve met him again, I don’t think I can give up. I’ll keep trying, Tomoyo-san.”

A thank you pales in comparison to the intensity of her determination, so Tomoyo bows her head. “I believe you can. In the meantime, we’ll wait. We’ve already done plenty of that, haven’t we?”

“Yes.” Akane agrees. “But I hope not for too much longer.”

***

Her son is home.

He’s more solid now, but his face hasn’t really changed. Her nose wrinkles at the tobacco clinging to his clothes; she hugs him tightly anyway.

“Hi, Mama.” He says, and she fights back tears. She won’t cry in front of him, or Akane, or their friends looking on. And definitely not out in a driveway. “I’m sorry for leaving you alone.”

“I’m just glad you’re here.” She answers, ignoring her clogged sinuses. “And I haven’t been alone, not in a long time. Akane-chan’s been visiting me.”

“Akane-chan?” He repeats. His eyes dart to Akane, brows lifting. “That’s funny, I didn’t hear about that either.”

“Well, now you know.” She beams. “Come inside, Tomoyo-san.”

As he takes her jacket, Shinya mutters. “She calls you ‘Tomoyo-san’, Mama.”

“And?”

“I don’t get that same treatment.”

“If it upsets you, you should do something about it.” She dryly responds. Her son’s unamused expression makes her laugh, and she pats his cheek as she heads for Akane’s living room.

There’s a pair of women who she’s met today, sitting on the opposite couch. They’re friendly enough but she’s most familiar with Nobuchika-kun, who strikes up a conversation with her. His countenance lightens every time she sees him. He’s changed very much since his school days with Shinya, and she’s as proud of him as if he were her own.

She’s happy. Truly, unbelievably happy.

In the kitchen, Akane is making coffee for everyone, and Shinya’s stepped over to help her out. She’s never seen them together before, and now that she has, it’s like they’re tethered by a gravitational pull. It stirs the romantic in her to life after so long.

It is also the last time they meet for many months.

***

In the ensuing whirlwind of events, Tomoyo does her best to occupy herself. Group therapy has helped in that regard. She’s taken more of a mediating position as of late. It’s not long before an unfamiliar couple joins the monthly session. They introduce themselves with the name Tsunemori, and Tomoyo maintains a stoic expression. She treats them neutrally, trying to parse them out. They’re about what she expected: subdued and fearful of uncertainty, especially with regards to Akane.

Afterwards, she takes her time putting on her coat, watching everyone else walk out. When the Tsunemoris emerge, she strides a little ahead, so she can turn to them and speak.

“Your daughter’s strong. Have faith in her.” They blink at her in confusion, but she continues. “She’s helped me so much. If you have time, would you like to have tea?”

***

She calls him after washing her breakfast dishes. “Today’s the day, right?”

“Yeah, finally.”

She can hear the restrained impatience in Shinya’s voice and smiles. “Is your car clean?”

“Mama.”

“I don’t want Akane-chan to be driven out of that place in a dirty car.”

“Of course not. Don’t worry.” He grumbles.

“Well, I do. She’s like the daughter I don’t have.”

“…working on it.”

“What was that?” Of course, she knew what he said, but she wanted to hear him say it clearer.

“Nothing. We’ll see you at dinner tonight.”

She purses her lips. “We’ll talk more then. Have fun, be safe.”

He sighs, but his reply is fond. “Alright. See you later.” The call ends.

Hoshiko announces her Hue for the day. “Powder blue! Would you like me to pull up your shopping list?”

“In fifteen minutes. Thank you.” The starfish blinks out and she exhales. She’s alone, but not for long. She finishes her coffee with a smile.

#psycho pass #shinkane #very slightly #also references my shinkaneweek fics

152 notes · View notes