toh s3 but all the adults defeat the collector (+ co?) through the ancient art of a dance battle. like raine casts a spell & footloose starts playing from seemingly nowhere and they along with eda, lilith, darius, eberwolf and alador break out into this weirdly well practiced choreography. as the song goes on they have increasingly stranger moves, lilith does the crab hands :)
also the kids and everyone else is just, watching this go down and very confused. the c.a.t.t.s are winning tho so it's all good
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When We’re Ready [1] | Kylian Mbappé x Fem Reader
[Part One] [Part Two]
Summary: Kylian's blatant desire for a baby has your head spinning. Though, you must say, he is quite convincing...
Warnings: SMUT! Minors, go away. Penatrative sex, oral (female receiving), groping (semi-public), breeding kink, cussing, horny mfs, kinda cringe and cheesy but I stand by it. Let me know if I missed anything! – English is not my first language. –
Masterlist
Kylian was easy to read. His expressive face always gave him away; scrunching and elongating against his will. Even when he was meant to hide his true feelings in certain situations, there was always a little twinge of the eyebrow or crook of the lip to let you know exactly what he was thinking.
Maybe you just knew him too well, spent too much time with his elastic face to pick up on the micro expressions that made it possible to know his mood at any time. But, something was different about tonight. Cheeky? Yes. Pensive? For sure. Annoyed? Maybe… It was hard to say with the way he stared at you from the bed. One hand propping up his heavy head while he watched you intently putting lotion on.
This expression was new.
“Babe?” You call, rubbing together the leftover lotion on your hands, sitting in front of him on the bed. “You okay?”
“Mhm.” He hums, still seeming out of it as he shifts and stares at the TV now, though it only reflects a dark image of himself back at him, seeing as it wasn’t even turned on.
You narrow your eyes at him. “I don’t buy it. Something’s on your mind.” You take your rings and earrings off, setting them in your jewelry catcher by your nightstand. Kylian stayed quiet as you got under the covers, drawing his attention back to you.
When he didn’t give you any sort of answer, you had no choice but to scroll on your phone in an attempt to ignore the burning stare that came from your husband's side of the bed. Eventually, it was impossible to pretend you didn’t feel his eyes dead set on your face. You shut your cell off and set your phone on your stomach, looking directly at him, your sudden view shift taking him by surprise. “Okay, seriously. What?”
“Nothing.” You catch a smirk barely grazing his lips before he just shakes his head, turning and switching off his bedside lamp, cozying up under the duvet. “Don’t worry about it.”
You huff and sneer at his answer, shutting off your lamp as well, curling up with an obvious annoyance at the lack of information. “He thinks I'm not gonna worry about it.” You mumble to yourself passive aggressively, your back turned to him. “You’re being weird. I don’t like it.”
“I'm not being weird.”
“Are too.”
Kylian stared at the back of your head, quiet as he slowly reached for your waist, effectively pulling your body up against his to share his warmth.
“Oh, so now you wanna cuddle?” You grumble, settling in comfortably despite the bite that laced your words.
He kissed your hair, lost in his own racing mind, not fully convinced he should bring this up to you tonight. Your annoyance was surface level, nothing he was deeply concerned about because he felt the way you relaxed against his own muscles, letting his arms act as your blanket.
He was sure that the thoughts that persist in his skull had crossed your mind as well. As he lay there with you, the love of his life, he let his brain think without hesitation; no if’s or but’s, no playing devil's advocate with himself. He let himself indulge in the future fantasy that he had dreamed of since he was a small boy. He felt lucky he had you in all of his delusions, always right there with him. You’re around in every scenario he makes up; ever present, making you laugh, making you swoon. He feels so lucky that you stand with him in the tangible world as well, looking better than anything he comes up with in his mind. Saying funnier things, sweeter things.
As your breathing stables, he’s not sure if you’re fully asleep yet, or how long the silence has even run for. His throat would close at the words when you were awake and responsive, but now that he couldn’t tell, it was easier to whisper them to your sleeping figure – nothing holding him back from telling you his little secret.
“Let’s have a baby.”
His voice could have been mistaken as a sigh as he breathed the words gently into your ear… but you heard them.
Your eyes shot open wide, the air becomes harder to take in your lungs at the shock, laying still in his arms. Slowly, you lift your head and stare back at him. He feels just as shocked upon seeing that you’re actually awake, gulping at the confession he let slip.
He knew you wanted kids, just like he did. You’ve been married just about four months and had previously talked about waiting two years or so to start a family. The pair of you agreed stability in the home was necessary before bringing a child into it – which was fair enough – but his baby fever was deadly. There wasn't anything he could do to keep away the images of little toes, and bassinets, and rolls on their tummy, and dimples on their legs and… just everything. He wanted to see them grow up. He wanted to debate you on who they got it from. He was prepared to do anything for that baby, and the baby itself is just a thought. A sweet little figment of his imagination… but they already had your eyes.
“Did I hear you right?” You sleepily mumble, feeling his grip on you grow tighter and his heartbeat quickening just a smidge.
He kisses your sleepy cheek, resting his face against yours as his arms wrap more securely around you. “Oui, mon coeur. I want a baby with you.” He repeated, voice still soft.
“You think now is a good time for us?”
“Mm…” He ponders a moment. “I think so.”
“Is this what you were thinking about?”
He kisses your shoulder. “Yeah. Been thinking it for a while.”
“A while…”
“A month or two.” Kylian shrugs like it's casual… like it hasn't completely taken over his brain from the second he saw you walk down the aisle. “Imagine our little family. Just the three of us." He lets the silence marinate, unsure of whether or not you've fallen asleep on him. "Don't you think?" He squeezes you gently, needing to keep this conversation going now that it's started.
You burrow your back into him to let him know you're still lucid. "Yeah. Just the three of us... but... is now the time to bring a baby into the world?"
His sigh sounds defeated, tickling your face. “You don’t think it is…”
“I don’t know… I haven’t really thought about it.” You admit, looking at him once more. His eyebrows furrow and now you can read him clearly.
The overthinking face.
Despite being confident in himself and his actions in pretty much every aspect of his life, Kylian is a chronic overthinker. He’ll let his thoughts drag him into a darker place. He begins to question little comments or actions that he wouldn’t have thought twice about if the little voice in his head would just leave him alone. The crease between his eyebrows tilt upward, his tongue finds his top row of teeth, his stare points away to a still object that will allow him to daze off into the flying spiral of introspection.
You tap your finger on his chin to get him to look back at you so you could ground him. “I have thought about it. A lot. Just not so much recently…” You say, not only doing damage control on your last comment, but a true statement on the topic of family that you’re interested in exploring further. “With the wedding, moving, family stuff, you know. Everything’s a little jumbled right now.”
The gears turn in his head and he purses his lips. “No, I get it.” He sighs deeply. “I guess you’re right.” You turn in his arms, now curled into his chest. He kisses your forehead before resting his chin on it, engulfing your body completely in his. “But, maybe two years is a little long to wait.”
“Yeah, I agree. Who knows if we’ll even still be together by then.” You grin mischievously into his skin and feel the vibration of his deep chuckle from your obvious joke.
“Shut up.”
You move your head so you could look at him, pressing a kiss to his chapped and upturned lips. “Let’s give it until the end of the summer. That’s like, what, three months? If we both feel like the time is right, then we start trying, For real.”
He closes his eyes to feel your presence in his, content enough with the compromise. Isn’t that what marriage is all about, anyway?
He wiggles his eyebrows. “You up for a little practice?”
“Practice?”
He rubs a firm hand down your back, letting it rest lower than it was before. “Just a little refresher…”
You caught on, rolling your eyes as he pulls away to gauge your reaction to his suggestion.
“Ky, if anything, you’re a little over-practiced in that department.”
“No such thing, baby. Take it from me, I’m an athlete.” He smirks cheekily, letting only one finger run against your skin, tracing where the hem of your tank top had been resting on your hip. He dipped it lower and pulled up at the waistband of your underwear, letting it snap back gently, stinging only slightly but your sleepy state caused you to feel it ripple through you like he had whipped you.
“Hm…” You were sleepy, sure… but Kylian dipped his face into your neck. His lips could not have been more supple against your skin. The open mouth kisses he placed were gentle, soft, beyond seductive. Your eyes shut against your will at the feeling, his large palm flat against your side and moving up under the material that separated his bare chest from yours, tongue prodding out just slightly to taste your skin. “... I guess we can practice. Just a little…”
That night changed everything for you.
You see babies everywhere now, it’s like the population multiplied overnight. There was nothing that could stop you from cooing at their tiny socks and chubby ankles, the sound of their giggle echoing through the grocery store, their innocent little smiles when they looked at their mommy or daddy… God, does everyone have a damn baby but you?
The months went on and the late summer sun was hotter than it had ever been. At least for as long as you’d lived in Paris. You could barely walk outside for the mail without sweating and needing a shower. You verbally thanked the heavens you weren't pregnant right now, not being able to imagine carrying a human inside of you with all of this heat. Kylian brushed it off, still holding out hope for a new addition to the Mbappe household.
Kylain might be an extremely intelligent man, but, boy… subtlety is not his strong suit. It started with him leaving open baby magazines on the kitchen counter, flipped to the cutest, smallest, chunkiest little one they had on print. He’d send you baby TikTok videos with a message that read “do you like this color for the living room walls?”
In his defense, he was never trying to be subtle. He continued to think about what you said that night he first mentioned trying, and he still thinks that bringing a baby into the mix is right for you two. He tried to chop it down to his social media algorithm sabotaging him with constant baby content or maybe the honeymoon phase after the wedding had him feeling this strongly, but those explanations just didn’t feel right. After knowing you for six years and getting to love you for almost all of that time, he was eager to create a family with you right in the center of it.
The baby discussion had made a sharp turn at some point this last month. You couldn’t exactly pinpoint when it all went from questioning every aspect of your life together and reasoning with one another about very serious doubts and scenarios, to unhinged conversations about things that just caused you to giggle. Things like: where the pair of you would bring your newborn on their first vacation, what their first word would be, if they’d follow in Kylians footsteps, how much money the tooth fairy would give them for their first lost tooth.
It’s safe to say, you finally came to the silent conclusion that you were ready – but that realization couldn't have come at a more awkward time.
Dinner with his whole side of the family was a blessing for you both. It wasn’t very often that every schedule cleared up in the same time frame. A large restaurant section was rented out in the heart of Paris for family and friends to get together. It was a nice time to make conversation and catch up on everything life had churned out since the last time you’d seen each other. The appetizers were spectacular, the drinks were doing their job, it was all so nice…
… Except that nothing – yes, nothing – is more awkward than being unstoppably horny for your husband in front of his entire family. You cut yourself off after martini number three when you noticed it was turning your brain into goo. The buzz wasn't enough to make you drool and incoherent, but seeing your Kylian playing with his niece and nephew, picking them up and turning them upside down, pressing affectionate smooches to their bulbous cheeks… drooling and incherency was not far behind.
He was going to be such a good dad. He was already the most caring husband, even with all of his responsibilities and commitments. He found time for you in every sliver of open space in his schedule, needing to soak up quality time with his wife as if it were as necessary as air.
The entrées began to come out as everyone took their respective seats. Kylian was still oblivious to the googly eyes you’d been throwing in his direction all night, but it wasn’t long after he sat down that he caught on.
He leans over to whisper to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “I know that look. Very well.”
You shudder at his breath tickling your skin. Flustered beyond belief, you could only manage to shake your head, letting out a shy and breathy laugh.
Kylian bit his lip and snickered along with you, setting his hand on your knee and faces forward. His touch was hot. A skillet off of the stove would have sent the same wave of heat all the way up your limbs. You reach for the water on the table, positive that the fierce blush overtaking your face would be obvious to anyone who decided to look at you in your current state. His long fingers began moving against your knee, tracing mindless patterns that only sent you more goosebumps. He knew that every gentle touch or fragment of affection he would give you right now would be heightened tenfold… he loved knowing that you were putty in his hands. He knew your mind – and right now, he had completely taken over it.
“Feeling okay, mon amour?” The sly smirk on his face gave him away. He was just teasing you, and Lord, does he love teasing. His hand moves upward to your midthigh, stopping and moving his thumb up and down above your dress, crinkling the material. “You’re looking a little flushed.”
You’d been avoiding eye contact, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of your needy gaze. “Kylian, stop it. Your mom’s sitting right there.” You reprimand in a soft voice, not wanting to raise any attention to the pair of you up to nothing decent.
“I’m not doing anything.” He chuckles, moving his hand a little higher. You suck in a sharp breath as he leans into your ear again. “Won’t you look at me, bébé?”
You shake your head no, feeling quite shy as your throat dries up. You clear your throat discreetly and reach for the cold water once more, but Kylians hand grabs your palm, bringing it to his lips. “Let me see those eyes, baby.” He mumbled against your hand. His back was turned to the rest of the table, acting as a human curtain for your obvious discomposure.
You roll your eyes before looking at him. You tried your best to give him a scolding look, but the second you saw that same glimmer in his eye that matched yours, your current sensitivities doubled down. The pace of your heart heightened quickly, the warmth in your cheeks increasing by the second.
You felt like leaning in to kiss his lips. He licked them right when he took a quick glance at your own, your hand still taken in his.
“Your eggplant parmesan, madame.” You didn’t even see the waiters bringing out the entrées being too engrossed in Kylian's burning stare. You smile up and thank her then look around the table. You’d forgotten that there were other people there for a second, much less his family. His mom, dad, nieces, nephews, aunties – distant or otherwise… You had to pull yourself together before they caught on to your overly horny demeanor.
Kylian took his hand off your thigh when his chicken alfredo was placed in front of him, noticing how you sat up straighter. For now, he’d let you do your best to make regular conversation with his cousins that sat across from the both of you, but he noticed how tightly your legs were crossed together. He saw your eyes dart away from his whenever you turned his way. When he brushed your pinky on the table before engulfing your hand, you took in a sharp breath. So sensitive.
He nodded toward your empty plate. “Feel like turning in early, mon coeur?”
You raised a brow at him. “Ky, you sure? Your whole family’s here. Don’t you wanna stay a little longer?”
He shrugs. “We’ve been mingling for like,” he looks at his watch, “almost three hours. Besides, I’m quite a bit distracted tonight.” He peeks down at your cleavage, darting his tongue out to wet his lips. “I think I wanna take you home.”
You shudder when he leans in and kisses the corner of your lips. To anyone watching, it’s a sweet gesture of affection, but to you… it was erotic. Sensual. It made you tighten your thighs even more.
His attention is taken back to the others at the table, letting them know that the two of you would be leaving a little early, blaming it on his morning training schedule. You two made your rounds to every seat, kissing cheeks and rubbing shoulders, making sure you left a good impression with each and every one of the members of the group.
He opened the car door for you, grabbing your hand to help you in, kissing your knuckles before hopping in the driver's seat. He weaved through traffic with a sure hand on your upper thigh, slowly and subconsciously getting higher and higher.
It’s unfair that he holds all the power right now – making you sweat and need him with every purposeful tap on your skin. The pads of his fingers migrated downward over your dress until it reached the hem of the frilly garment. His eyes were fixed on the red light in front of him as he let his hand travel under your dress – the simple skin to skin enough to invade you with goosebumps – feeling each and every one on the trail he formed toward your panties, toying with the band wrapped around your hip.
You didn’t even mean to swivel your hips closer to his hand, but when his forefinger traveled lightly to feel your slit over the elastic material, you couldn’t stop yourself. “Ky…” You whined as he wiggled his digit against you.
You look over to see his smirk facing forward, practically visualizing his ego growing at just your involuntary mewl. Looking at his lap, you saw the trace of his member was much too prominent to assume your neediness wasn’t affecting him. You reached over and took hold of it, gripping with a single squeeze that had his breath shake in surprise.
“Merde, cherie…” He hissed, taking sporadic peeks down at your hand as it rubbed him through the layer of cloth. It wasn’t responsible to grope him while he was behind the wheel, but the standstill traffic and ultra tinted windows lent you enough feelings of safety to continue your motions. You felt him getting harder as you pumped your fist as best you could over his stiff zipper.
Half his mind wanted to ask you to wait until you got home so he could shove you between him and the wall, feel, kiss, bite, lick every centimeter he saw… but how could he? Your fluttering lashes made him forget how to speak coherently. He just couldn’t resist you.
His personal fucking kryptonite.
There you both sat, hands on each other's most intimate parts in the center of traffic. It was kind of exciting that the people on the same road had no idea what was going on. That the thick steel doors and blackened windows were the only thing keeping them from seeing you throw your head back when he pressed on your clit. That they were oblivious to the sweet sounds that bubbled up from Kylians chest as you ran your knuckles over his tip, the hand that wasn’t lost under your otherwise innocent dress gripping the steering wheel so, so tightly.
Kylian took a quick and sharp left, finally away from the traffic going down the last road until you reached your private residence. His foot pressed all the way down on the pedal, impatiently rolling the stop signs. In any other scenario, it would make you nervous, but you truly didn't even notice the way he broke traffic laws once he had removed his hand in the urgency of it all.
You unbuckled as he drove down the last couple of blocks, leaning over the center console to attack his open neck, surely leaving a big purple bruise in your wake. Your hand wrapped around his face, pressing him further into you. He grunted and closed his eyes as soon as he put the car in park inside the garage, wasting no time grabbing for your leg so you could straddle him in the tall SUV.
Kylian hiked your dress up with his hand firmly placed on the globe of your ass, squeezing your flesh harshly as you grinded down onto him. With his lips now on your own, all the sounds of pleasure were muffled and smothered.
“J'ai tellement besoin de toi, putain.” I need you so fucking bad. His hands roamed higher around your waist as he got access to your neck.
“J'ai besoin que tu mettes un bébé en moi. C'est si dur.” I need you to put a baby in me. So bad. When you say these words, you feel him stiffen. His hands cease their movements, now only gripping you in place as he leans his head back to look at your face. He needed to see if you were joking or not. Breathless and completely earnest, you stare into his wide eyes, feeling the way the mood changed with just a single phrase.
He hints at a smile. “You’re serious?”
You nod, kissing the tip of his nose, brushing your thumb dearly on his cheekbone. “So serious.”
He grins happily, pure excitement behind his eyes as he rubs your back with an incredible gentleness. He’s overtaken with fondness as he leans in to kiss you again. He smiles into it, letting out a joyous giggle when he hugs you tightly.
He barely pulls back. “Let’s get you inside. My beautiful wife.”
He couldn’t keep his hands off of you as he hugs you down the hallway toward the master bedroom, taking small detours when he simply couldn't help himself; grasping your neck to kiss you lovingly, slowing down to press you against his front and whisper sweet things in your ear.
You half expected him to throw you on the bed, rip your dress off, and take you like it was an animalistic instinct. By his conduct in the restaurant and in the car, you’d expect nothing less than a rough and primal fuck.
But, no. He walked you backward toward the bed, only staring into your eyes adoringly as he lifted you up to lay your head down on the pillow comfortably.
He kissed you once before just looking at you on the mattress, knees turned in and pathetic little squirm demanding its way through your limbs. Your pretty purple dress was now wrinkled and twisted, halfway up your thigh, straps hanging loosely off your shoulder.
He beamed, deciding to sit on his knees with you in between him as he began undoing his white dress shirt, button by button, eyes never leaving yours. Your grabby hands untucked the material from his pants, matching his slower pace as you undid the buckle of his belt.
Once his shirt just hung on his shoulders, he placed two warm hands on your legs, allowing them to wander up and up, the material of your dress all scrunched up in their path. He unveiled your body to his hungry eyes, tapping the side of your ribs so you’d sit up and let him take it off of you completely. You both giggled softly when it finally went over your face, disheveling your hair in the process. Kylian brushed it all away from your features, grabbing your face sweetly and laying you back down, noses only an inch away as he balanced his body on top of yours.
“Mon amour.” He mumbled adoringly, brushing his nose with yours, grazing your lips slightly. “We’re really doing this.”
You just smile, pecking the cheesy wide grin that had taken over his features. “We’re ready.” You confirm, wrapping both your arms around his neck.
He slowly made his way down your body, inch by inch, kiss by kiss. His tongue made soft and swift circles on your left nipple, your other being pinched and soothed by his strong fingers. As he ventured further, he placed his palms firmly on your tummy, kissing it so tenderly, as if to prepare a space for his future baby. Blessing it’s temporary home before they even had the chance to get there.
“You’re going to look so pretty when I get you pregnant.” The words were strangled between the emotions in his voice and the ringing in your own ears; the pressure of his lowering hands making your head spin.
He tossed his shirt aside along with his pants when he reached your underwear, placing himself with purpose as he began pulling down the lacy garment. He hummed delightedly when a string of your slick clung onto the material. You showcased your pussy to him like he paid for it, jutting your hips toward him with pure need.
“You’re so fucking wet.” He murmured as he ran a finger through your folds, just to tease, perceptive to the shiver that formed a sweet noise from your chest.
Without needing further instruction, he kitten licked your clit, gently sucking on it now and then. You turned your head into the silk pillow, letting it catch most of the crude noises you were making for the man between your legs. With his arms securely wrapped around your thighs, he pressed his face further into your core, shaking his head back and forth before adding two fingers.
“God – fuck, Ky.” The abstruse praises spewed out of you when he curled his long, long fingers up, pumping them as they hooked inside your rigid walls.
He pulled them out too quickly for your liking, taking his magic tongue with him as he stared down at your pussy. He stretched your skin apart with his thumbs, playing with you for his own visual gratification before slowly inserting three fingers inside at once. He watched them intently disappear into you, then quickly looking at your face that twisted in delight as he stretched you open – preparing you for his thick member.
You wailed in pleasure, your hands gripping the sheets until your knuckles turned white. “Oh my god, Kylian.” How he loved hearing you moan out his name. It only made him need you more, staring up at you dotingly past your stomach. “Please, baby… I need you.” You begged.
His fingers slow down before leaving you bare. He watched your empty pulsing hole for only a second, licking his fingers clean as he shuffled around to be on top of you once more.
He hovered over you, staring deeply into your eyes. You sighed in contentment at his gazing, allowing one of your hands to go astray to lower his boxer briefs over his ass, pulling down the front as well. You took hold of his thick and hard cock, pumping it while keeping eye contact with your lover. It was so beautiful to observe the tiny fragments of expressions that waved over his face. The microscopic twinges of his eyelids, the slight curve that forms between his eyebrow, the gentle pursing of his lips.
You tugged him to your opening, running his dick along your soaked lips, lubricating it as you began to try and prod yourself open with him. Just the feeling of his tip beginning to enter your tight pussy had him shuddering. Kylian met your hand, helping it guide his cock to your entrance, slowly inserting his desperate mushroomhead.
He moved slightly, watching your expression for discomfort. “You’re so tight.” He huffed. Your hand stayed on his base, his small and paced movements still only to stretch you out for him. He felt the pads of your fingers as he shallowly pushed in and out of you.
“Faster.” You demanded, moving your hands to his ass to follow his movements.
He complied, heavy breathing fanning your face, his pace increasing, stuffing more of himself inside of you. Kylians eyes were shut tightly, head lulling down and occasionally planting a sloppy kiss on whatever skin happened to be closest to his parted lips. His arms shift into a plank position and he nuzzles his face in your neck, body pressed firmly against you – the beads of sweat on his muscles rubbing against your middle in tandem with his thrusts that still only went in halfway. With your hands still on the globes of his ass, you clenched and pushed him deeper with your palms.
He groans at the feeling, almost all the way inside of you. “You want it all? Huh?” He asks between gasps of air. “You want me to stretch out your tight little pussy. Take it.” He kisses you, tongue aggressively scouting your mouth. He lifts your legs up and sets them around his shoulders.
While staring into your eyes, he snaps his hips forward until his pelvic bone was pressed deliciously on your own.
“Fuck!” You scream, feeling him so, so deep inside of you. The slightly upward curve pinned against your g-spot as he stayed still in that position. The way your strained walls grabbed him and kept him buried inside made his eyes cross for a second. He tilted his head and kissed your left knee. Your foot grazed his back when he pulled out almost all the way, and, Christ… the look he gave you was debilitating when he thrusts back in.
When you say Kylian is easy to read, you really meant it. You could stare at his face for all of three seconds and gauge his mood. It was something he actually found a little annoying sometimes; coming home after a tough day and you’d force him to talk about it before he would even get a hello out. He could say he hated your perceptiveness all he wants, but he’ll never truly convince himself of that. He loved that he could communicate with you with just a simple impression on his features.
Now, he thrusted in and out, in and out as he gazed down at your hooded eyelids – and the look on his face was, again, one you've never seen before.
And despite this, you just knew what it meant. You felt it in your heart.
Love. Passion. Devotion. Care. Companionship. He'll be there for everything that is to come.
You saw your future in the shining glimmer in his irises. You saw everything.
Tears naturally welled in your eyes, one slipped, rolling down the side of your face. There was a glint of concern in Kylian as he slowed his unforgiving pace, but you moved your hips to keep him going.
He halted his motions and was about to ask you if you were okay or if you were hurt, but your hands cradled his face and you leaned up to peck his lips. “I just love you so much.” You say, answering the question he hadn’t even asked yet.
He lets out a deep sigh, wavering and telling. His thumb grazes over the trail of your tear, then leaves it there to stroke your skin. You gave him a light and playful spank on his right butt cheek, making you both giggle. He leaned down and kissed you feverishly – smooching once, twice, three times and pulling back only slightly.
“I love you. Je t'aime. Dieu, je t'aime tellement.” I love you. God, I love you so much. He planted sweet kisses all over your face, still smiling. “Tu es tout pour moi.” You are everything to me.
He pulled completely out of you, leaving you empty. A whine bubbled out of your chest and Kylian traced over the crease that had formed between your eyebrows, just before inserting himself back. Your mouth opened in pleasure, a moan stuck inside your throat as he gradually powered through your tight walls, inch by fucking inch. It was a feeling of complete satisfaction when his tip collided with your sweet spot once more. Even better when the drag of his thrusts nudged it over, and over, and over, A slow pace. A gentle pace. A pace that he felt necessary for the beginning of this new chapter.
He knew he was close, but kept his rhythm to get you there with. His hand found your clit quickly, making you jolt up, wrapping your arms tightly around his neck and pulling him into you.
“Oh, shit, Kylian… God! Yes! Fuuuuck…” The heaps of praise melted like butter in Kylians ears. The sweet voice of the woman he loves praising him made his heart flutter, soaking in the feeling of your teeth sinking into his shoulder.
“I’m gonna fill you up.” He stuttered into your hair, changing the motions of his fingers of your sensitive bud to get you there faster.
“Please, please, Kylian.” You kiss his neck, biting the skin. “Get me pregnant. Please.”
He moaned at your words, feeling like he couldn’t stop himself from orgasming for a minute longer. “Putain, je suis sur le point de... bon sang!” Fuck, I’m about to… Jesus Christ!
It was there. Right there. His thrusts faltered, he took your face from his neck and ran his free thumb over your lips, pressing his forehead to yours as he groaned deeply. He squeezed his eyes closed as you felt his hot spurts of cum painting your walls, shooting into you delightfully until you were sure you were full. He cursed, eyes screwed shut as he continued thrusting sporadically. The feeling of it all made the knot in your abdomen pop. You screamed his name, legs shaking on his shoulder violently, toes curling, thighs shivering.
He pulled his hand away and kept fucking his cum into you through his groans of overstimulation, right until he had to gently and slowly pull out. He kept your legs pressed against your chest as he ventured down the mattress to get a better view of your pussy; his seed spilling out of you in dribbles, forcing him to stuff as much as he could back into you with his thumb. You shivered, lifting your head to watch him admire his work as if you were a piece of art he’d spent centuries perfecting. Slowly, he brought your sore legs back into a more natural position, soothing your aching muscles with a gentle massage. You were still coming down under his touch, both of you absolutely breathless. He throws himself down on the pillows next to you, whisking your hand from your heaving stomach – just holding it as you both calmed down and caught your breath.
“Christ…” You mumbled, chuckling a little bit. You rotate your body toward him with a giddy smile on your face, cuddling into his side and kissing his cheek. He began chuckling along with you. “What if I'm pregnant right now?” You ask, excitement comfortably taking over your face.
He shakes his head and looks at you, then down to your exposed stomach pressed against him. His hand snakes onto your middle, gently pushing you on your back as he steadied his hand right on your belly button.
He didn't even need to say anything. His face said it all.
The excitement of it all carried through the following weeks. It took everything in you to not tell every one of your friends and co-workers that you guys were trying. With the media breathing down your necks, it was agreed that this would be kept on the down low and you’d only announce when you were showing and could no longer hide it. Privacy was important to you both as a couple, and saying you're trying was really just a socially acceptable way of telling people you and Kylian were just constantly having sex.
Your leg bounced in anticipation as you asked your Alexa (again) how long was left of your fifteen minute timer. Kylian chewed on his thumbnail as he sat next to you on the bed with the same frustration at the slow clock ticking down, needing to know if the little stick that sat in the bathroom had one or two lines painted on it.
“I’m not pregnant.” You say into the silence with no evidence that that was true.
He leans back, taking his raw nail away from his teeth. “You could be.”
“I don’t think I am. Wouldn’t I, you know, like, feel it, or something?”
He sighs, placing a sure hand on the small of your back. “I have no idea. I don’t know if you know this about me… but I’ve never been pregnant before.” He smiles, earning a forced grin from you. He notices the unnaturalness of your curved lips to appease his bad joke, never reaching your eyes as they darted around the room nervously. He scoots closer, hugging your shoulders comfortingly, rubbing them like it would take away your anxiety. “Whatever it says, we have time. We keep trying.” He kisses your cheek with a quirk in his smile. “I quite enjoy trying.” You huff out a laugh – a real one – and playfully jab his stomach with your elbow.
That moment lasted no longer than a few seconds before the sound of the alarm went off. You audibly gulped down the minimal moisture in your mouth, taking a deep breath in as you both walked to the bathroom, Kylian holding your shoulders as he walked behind you into the tiled room.
“You want me to look?” He quietly asked after you just stared at the stick that was face down on the counter, not moving a muscle or even blinking. You nod, wiping your hands on your pants.
It felt like everything moved in slow motion when he reached for the otherwise insignificant plastic test that your future was written on. He kept the stick face down in his hand and took a deep breath in. You subconsciously crossed your fingers at your side. You’d never done that before, but you were hoping the universe would listen to your silent pleading superstition. You watch his face so intently, hyper-analyzing it before he even turns the stick in his hands.
His eyes shot down to it and he pursed his lips with a miniscule sigh. Without saying anything else, he sets it back down on the counter and pulls you in for a hug. Your heart dropped into your stomach as you needed confirmation of your suspicions, looking over at the stick with only one single line.
He put his chin on top of your head, squeezing you dearly. “It’s okay. It was our first try.” He murmured as you wrapped your own arms around his torso disappointingly.
You nod despite the grave let down, having convinced yourself that it would happen now like you had both hoped. “Yeah. I don’t know why I expected to get a positive that quickly. I shouldn’t have gotten my hopes up.”
He shakes his head, not really knowing what to say to comfort you while dealing with his own waves of sadness. Embracing each other in lieu of speaking was just as comforting, knowing you both were having the same experience together was consolation enough.
He kisses the top of your hair with a whispered I love you, holding you, holding him.
A/N: Part 1 of 2 (possibly 3). I'm back! Thank you to everyone for being patient with me and checking up on me through my little month hiatus. Sometimes, you just need a break and I appreciate you guys so much for being so kind through it! Huge hug and kiss to everyone here! Based on these requests (anon 1) (anon 2). And, don't worry, @megannandrewss , yours is coming in the next parts!
Taglist: @trentione @mentalbaddie @neymarsrealgf @akiraquote @mrswhitethornbelikov @kymb-10 @formula101x @photmath @marcelineslove @tsikik @iheartkyky @freshfraise @jokertbh @germanapples @urfuturesoccerwife @nightlockcornucopia @laylaynaynay130 @starlight8374 @depressoesssspresso @mbappesbae @ maddyperrezz @gigiboss @xanjoy @lovekm @jkkiks @vvbasmavv-blog @suzysface @ lolarmy72 @lizzz2967 @kylians-world @superswaggycooch @shashla @mehrmonga @abayo222 @missmo79 @tties24-7 @gurleenkl @drewstarkeysbae @ vibinwkay @ctn26 @ippid @i0veless @abayo222 @b-bradshaw @http-isabela @zoeeeruiz @mitruscity @kenanlotus0 @mbapbaesluvr @alwaysclassyeagle @nhatquynh @philipetchebest @ricsaigaslec @dfswfvf @urfav-tz @kylianswag @fanatica2023 @alexisquinnlee-bc @megannandrewss
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You see, I’ve never actually posted here before. I only ever reblogged other people’s contact, to show my love for art and fandoms! But this… this just HAD to be put in tumblr. For anything to break my all repost blog streak, this deserves it. Every Undertale Yellow fan needs to see this absolute monstrosity. This has to be the single most unhinged thing that can ever be made forth Undertale Yellow, nothing can top this masterpiece of absurd proportions.
I was simply scrolling through my YouTube home page and found (blood and UTY spoilers ahead…)
THIS!
Look at this, look at what I’m looking at! I need to know that I’m not the only one seeing this. LOOK AT IT!
We have Starlo bleeding out with his entire groin out for the world, legs defying gravity with no care for the boundaries of physics or biology! He shouldn’t even be bleeding out, monsters don’t bleed; and he was shot in the chest, not the head. What’s even funnier is the reason his legs are up like that is the sprite is suppose to be slouched against a wail, not lying down. Dude just turned him 90% and let his legs reach for the surface!
Then we have Ceroba with the classic edgy anime eyes, crying blood, with the craziest text. The grammar in her text box is insane; it’s KILLED honey, not KILLER. These two aren’t even dating, they never were in Undertale yellow, this women is RECENTLY WIDOWED FOR ASGORE’S SAKE! This fandom ships it like wildfire, and I am the one with the flamethrower, but this girl is very obviously NOT over her dead husband yet. This poor guy tried to make a pun with her genocide battle theme “trial by fury” by making it furry instead, but it doesn’t even fit in the text box! I’d normally be mad at such a massacre of my favorite girl and an amazing song, but it’s just way too funny to even think of being mad.
Shockingly Clover is mostly unchanged, just a smile added. I expected them to be covered in blood with a gun in their hand considering what’s going on in the left side of this cursed image, but no, the murders child is the most tame thing here. Meanwhile Flowey looks very concerned over a yellow sans just chilling to the side, who also looks just as concerned about all this. I can just hear the conversation between these two.
Then in the middle, for some reason, there’s just DUSTER from MOTHER 3! Why are you here, who are you, how did you get there?! I’d expect Flint or something for the cowboy vibes, but nope, just a random dude watching a furry go absolute apeshit on a child while a living Starfruit shows us a different meaning to “high noon.” And you wanna know what the kicker is, the punchline to all this, the cheery on top of this pesto bismol flavored cake is? This is a thumbnail for a speedrun.
A SPEEDRUN!
This needs to become a meme, I don’t know what or how, this is simply too over the top not to get memed to hell and back. Make sunning Starlo the new family guy death pose. I need Ceroba shouting at the top of her lungs “I AM GOING TO TRIAL BY FURRY YOU!” I need whoever this random guy from Mother Three sitting in a lawn chair with some popcorn and a soda watching this shit go down. I don’t care, this just HAS a to happen!
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I found one of your sagau posts about language and got me thinking xD
Reader who knows a lot of languages which gets people confused. Are they speaking in their godly language? Are they really that mad that they switched to another language? Why are they smirking like that--- (Aether/Lumine who understood everything trying so hard not to laugh at people's reactions)
Why did I imagine that after a flowery speech Reader delivers a response so blunt the vine boom sfx can be heard---
Reader trying out flowery speech and failing, while the rest of the people in the background are either A.) Trying to convince you that its alright to talk simply (oh now you turn the tables--) or B.) Some of them fainting in devotion/cuteness because their god looks at them so eagerly for feedback
I heard somewhere that Mondstadt is based on Germany and another post about Snezhnaya (bruh whats the spelling 🤣💀) based on Russia, so I thought that while they speak english they also throw in a couple words of their respective language (or in some drunk cases, full out native language). Cue reader just.... 🧍♂️🧍♀️
Bilingual reader who uses full advantage of their knowledge into making puns and jokes to Cyno----
WE CAUGHT ANOTHER ONE BOYS
YES YES THE PSPSPSPSS NEVER FAILSSS🛐🛐🛐
(subliminalmessagingpspspspsscometomeaskscomepspspspspssubliminalmessaging)
___________
DUDE ive thought abt just making it where Aether/Lumine are the only ones who understand English/ur language and like, while u can (or maybe cant for shenanigans) speak Teyvatian (ew theres gotta be a better word for that?) Theres NOTHING as amazing as the bilingual experience of pranking bitches
Eula gives like a whole poetry book of a speech to you guys to be more responsible abt gliding in the city (its cute <3 shes actually very concerned bc you know you would do sm that would worry her, i mean i know im just flinging myself off of every surface all the time, esp in Mondstadt im not using no stairs💀)
And you just... turn to Aether/Lumine and say smth in English and they bust out laughing
(Or worse, u two are giggling like little shits✨️)
Dont feel too bad Eula, they do this to everyone
(Paimon's constantly on ya'lls case abt it)
Like u didnt even say anything rude (probably), as u explained to Eula, but its like this all the time, sm ppl even find themsleves jealous of this bond you two have got, tho whether they are jealous of Aether/Lumine or you is still still hard to tell,,)
♧
IM SO GLAD ONE PERSON OUT THERE GOT THE FLOWERY SPEECH -> YOU REPLY -> VINE BOOM 🤝🤝🤝 THING I WAS TRYING TO CONVEY
Thats deadass like how i imagine half the time it would be like talking to ppl, esp if ur critizing smth that person was doing lmao (like roasting them)
Its even funnier if like, u didnt hear the vine boom so to speak, like u got ur back to the rest of the characters/npcs while ur talking to this one person and u dont even know u just said smth that's got like one person crying laughing
(KAEYA, aether/lumine, hu tao, KAVEH, Venti, childe, Yae Miko, SCARAMOUCHE/WANDERER, beidou, off the top of my head)
♡
Another one is just standing there in shock, when will they unfreeze? Only time can tell
(Zhongli, jean, eula, keqing, ayaka, ganyu, kuki shinobu, once again off the top of my head theres so many characters at this point in genshin help)
♡
They're just like,, processing still, theyre probably overthinking everything u say bc to them you give so little information 💀 i can see the like transparent images of their thinking faces floating around them now LMAO
(Alhaitham, zhongli again rip, DILUC, kaeya's also laughing at him not just you his stomach hurts help him, Ei, XIAO, ALBEDO, Ayato but he'd also be muffling a laugh, Kazuha maybe i can also see him just giggling n shit, Kokomi, CYNO, Tighnari but also he'll react like its the funniest joke ever while he's trying to actually think abt it, so he just ends up standing there, thinking outloud, then cracking up over and over again lol)
♤
Oh Cyno u sweet summer child, as soon as u started making puns it was over for him, no one can stop you, even if Tighnari can't understand ur language rn he can definitely just sense there's bad jokes being made, esp if Cyno gets it and his lip like, twitches upward or even worse, he chuckles.
(Tighnari's totally getting onto him for corrupting you)
☆
pLEASE US ACTUALLY TRYING TO SPEAK LIKE THEM 😭😭😭
What a cute image, just some of them reassuring us and some of them thinking its cute for trying, and we look around the room when we try for feedback i know i would 😭😭
If i actually got close tho they better give me a headpat or smth
___________
Anyway THANK YOU for the ask!! (subliminalmessingpspspspspscometomeaskscomepspsps)
That was a BEAUTIFUL✨️ thing to read, got my heart doin backflips and shit 😳😊🥰
God this is so long im so sorry everyone
Cheers,
🌒🌊🌧Aquarius♒️🌌🌘
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Summers and letters - Robert "Bob" Floyd x reader
after the Coffee shop AU (x), time for a Scout AU
Summary: Every summer, you spend one moth at summer camp, teaching kids and teenagers along side a group that you've grown to love. And that's were Bob teaches too, planning games and activities for yet another year, except this year might be the last, having sent all of his details to try to get into the Navy. So what happens when he does leave for the Navy, leaving both you and the kids missing him, as well as your crush for him not yet revealed?
A/N: This has been in the works for months, and I just couldn't find the motivation to finish it, but gladly, I finally did!
Planning on writing a part two from Bob's point of view, at least from when he leaves, when he receives the letters, how things go from there.
I hope this ends up being a good read, let me know if a part 2 sounds interesting enough! ♡
Words: 4.5k
As always, requests are open and comments are very much appreciated! Thank you for reading and hope you're all having a good day ♡
Every summer, you set aside a whole month for the scout’s camp, a whole month spent with kids and teenagers, depending on the week, and a whole month with your fellow teachers and friends.
You had been seeing them every summer for at least four years at this point, the real world getting shut out each time you crossed the makeshift entrance to the camp, nothing but three trunks nailed to each other, strong enough to hold onto each other during the worst of storms.
The weeks were organized in the best of ways, groups divided by age and somewhat easy to deal with, ending each camp with a song by the fire, a good amount of badges earned and a whole lot of fun memories to take home.
And after dark, when the kids were in bed, you got to hang out with everyone by the fire, just like you had with the kids, yet with different conversations, deeper, funnier, getting to know each other better, with the lack of contact, usually, between one summer and the other.
There was one of your fellow colleagues that you kept contact with, Sarah, just one year older than you and living on your same street, and a colleague that you wished to have more contact with, but never found the courage to: Robert.
He had everyone call him Bob, and you couldn’t help but smile every time he came over to you, talking excitedly about the activities planned, or some of his passions, adventures on the ranch, dreams.
You remembered one of the first nights on camp this year, when the two of you had found a spot by the campfire, on lookout for any kids ignoring lights out or that rather preferred wandering in the dark, talking to each other to make the time pass, keeping each other company while you waited for the next people to take over.
“I remember my first time on a horse. I wasn’t really a fan of the idea, but my dad had insisted, so I climbed on and tried my best for a solid ten seconds, before deciding to give up. Ended up with my foot stuck on the saddle. Rode for 50 meters upside down and crying.” He told you, his cheeks blushed from the slight embarrassment he still felt when talking about it, but it was all worth it when you laughed, your hand reaching for his shoulder as you wiped a tear from your eye.
“Were you okay?” You asked, eyes sparkling from the laughter you had just graced him with, finding the image of a seven year old Bob hanging from a horse a little too funny.
“Oh, yeah, just annoyed.” He said, laughing once more and shaking his head, “I tried again the next day, actually thinking about my movements before jolting down a moving animal, and eventually I came to love it. I was just grumpy that day and that did not help.”
You smiled at his words, his way of being, the comforting sight of him in front of you, sitting cross legged in front of each other as the nearby campfire warmed you.
“What’s your plan with the ranch?” You asked, shifting a little closer, just to feel his knees bump against yours, his hand reaching over to grab your hands, holding them between his when he saw you shiver, a comforting habit he had grown into after knowing you for a little over two years now.
“I’m not sure. I always thought I’d stay. Help my family, keep on what has been going for years, but… I don’t know, recently I’ve been wondering if maybe leaving would-” he shook his head, frustrated that he couldn’t find the right words, “I’m afraid that staying here will make me miss something that maybe I’m supposed to find.”
You nodded, blushing at how his hands were cradling yours, thumb gently caressing your skin as he talked, understanding his words but getting lost in his touch.
“An adventure you’ll miss if you stay here?” you offered with a smile, having felt the same thing as him. This town was great for many things, but it was its own world.
You loved summer camp, creating a separate reality from the rest of the world for a good month, but when you got back home you did wonder what you were missing, if all those things you saw on tv were things you were supposed to truly live, rather than simply dream of. He looked at you, his eyes scanning your own, nodding slightly. Squeezing your hands softly before letting them go he cleared his throat, looking ahead at someone, your mind soon catching up and standing up, knowing that it was time to give up your lookout position and head to bed.
He whispered a goodnight as you reached your cabin, waving timidly before climbing the steps to his own, leaving you with a smile on your lips at his first story, and some aching in your chest at his uncertainty, one that matched your own.
“Bob! Next year maybe we can try the other trail? I heard there’s caves and stuff!” the kid excitedly said, her hands gripping tightly to her own pants, trying to contain her movements.
“I… yeah. If I’m here, sure!” He muttered, hands reaching for hers, helping her move down from the log she had climbed onto, the way back to camp seemingly not fun unless she went over any obstacle she laid eyes on.
You turned to look at him, in your eyes a questioning look that he returned with a small shrug and a smile, hoping that he’d have the chance to further explain later on. He had never missed a year, always there for the whole month, mentioning once that this was his time off from the ranch, getting extra time to hang out and do something he loved. So his uncertainty was… weird.
“You promise?” she asked, this time jumping over a small rock, her hands clinging onto the kid in front of her, Nellie.
“Yeah, promise! Promise!” Nellie started chanting, soon aided in her chorus by most of the other kids, their voices high in pitch and loud, making you laugh as you moved around them, gently shushing them.
“I… I promise, yeah.” he said it slowly, as if his promise wouldn’t count that way. He was half sure he would be there, but he wasn’t fully sure, and lying was something he hated, especially when it came to lying to the face of those adorable kids, kids he had spent various summers with.
“Time to head back, kids, let’s not overdo it, we wouldn’t want dear old Bob to go deaf, right?” you joked, moving them along the path, the sign to the entrance of the camp now in sight. You missed the way he smiled at you, or the way he had to glance down at his feet instead of quickening his pace to catch up, the lie slowly making him uneasy.
You slowed down your steps, falling into a small walk as the kids ran ahead, finding the others and falling into a queue, ready for the next activity, one that neither you nor Bob had to partake in, time for a welcomed break.
“If you’re here?” you questioned, trying to keep your tone lighthearted, pushing any other feeling away, even if the closeness of your hands was making it hard to concentrate on anything but reaching for his, holding it, for once.
“I…” he started, taking a deep breath in, chuckling lightly, “I was thinking of joining the Navy. Sent my papers to the academy and all. I don’t think they’ll take me, I mean, c’mon.” He laughed, pointing at himself, “but if they do, summer is… not a thing I’ll be able to pass here, I think.”
“Oh.” You managed to reply, your footsteps slowing once more, not willing to end your chat so soon, slowly stirring it towards the path that twisted around the camp, a short-ish walk, but leaving you with some more time to talk. “I mean, they’d be lucky to have you, really.” you said honestly, smiling at him. “But I’ll miss you, if you end up going.” You revealed, looking up at him. He didn’t look like a Navy guy, with his messy hair, not combed after the night ‘cause of lack of time, or his glasses, or his slightly shy demeanour, but you’d support him in it. He was smart, and he had many skills, and he would be great and you knew he could do it.
He wouldn’t know that, of course, since you never quite got the courage to ask for his number, never exchanging them, never hearing from each other if not when you met a whole three seasons later, and so you’d never get to tell him how proud you were of getting in, if that ended up being the case.
And it took everything you had in that moment to not show the disappointment in your face, especially when you glanced back up at him, his cheeks red from the sun and his eyes twinkling from the light. God, you thought, If he does end up going, next summer is going to be hard.
You sat by the campfire, Bob sat opposite you, Sarah by your side, chatting with the others about the last days on camp, the crackling of the wood making everyone smile fondly as stories were exchanged.
“I couldn’t believe that Kyle found the courage to cross that bridge all on his own.” Martin said, shaking his head.
You nodded along with the rest, smiling as the kids' accomplishments were shared, as the last activities were planned, from writing a summary of their favorite activities for reference for the coming years, to what stories to tell and treats to cook.
“So,” Sasha said after all the planning had been done, “what are you all going to be doing this winter? Will we be seeing everyone next summer?” He asked cheerfully.
He was the oldest of the group and acted almost like a dad to everyone, always keeping in touch when he could, but also taking care of the vast majority of the summer camp organization.
You smiled as everyone took their turn telling their plans, talking about your own when it was your turn and told everyone your own plans, not varying much from those of the previous year.
It was then Sarah’s turn, with the chatter about parties and travels, hopefully, never losing that glint in her eyes as she talked.
It was then Alice’s turn, and Eliott’s, until it was Bob’s, and you moved to look at him, curious to listen, and to have the extra excuse to look at him with no guilt about it.
“I’m going to help out at the ranch.” He mumbled, “The usual. But… yeah.” He added, nodding with a light chuckle.
It was the furthest thing from a confirmation about his presence in the upcoming year, but Sasha took it as one, not noticing how Bob’s eyes darted to yours when he didn’t mention what his plan really was, almost as if he was asking you to keep his secret, which of course you did.
You gave him a soft smile at his words, keeping your gaze on him, seeing his big blue eyes as they looked back, a timid smile sent your way as a silent thank you.
Two days later you said your goodbyes.
The kids left first, their parents coming to pick them up as they hurriedly ran towards them, jumping in the arms of mothers, parents, brothers, grandparents or caregivers, each child happy to have spent the time in the wild but still glad to go home.
Olivia and Nellie, having grown closer this year than they had during the last two, waved at everyone, giggling and running around.
You turned to look at Bob, his smile bittersweet as he looked at everyone, waving and saying his goodbyes, and his words from the previous days came to mind.
“So…” you said, moving closer to him, “I’ll see you next year, maybe?”
He hadn’t added anything else, and while there were still a few hours to be spent all together, fixing what could be fixed of the camp and saying your own goodbyes, this seemed like one of the last moments you’d get alone with him.
He sighed, looking down. “Maybe, yeah.” He nodded, already missing the idea of not being here, but feeling a passion in his being at the thought of what the navy could offer.
“I’d love to be, but… it’s not sure.” He mumbled quietly, still weary about talking about it with anyone but you.
“I’d love for you to be, too.” You joked, deciding on asking him for his number when you saw his smile, the excuse of keeping in contact perfect and direct.
“I wanted to-”
“Hey, Bob! There’s some fixing to do in cabin 4, can you give me a hand?” Roger shouted from halfway down the path, interrupting you.
“Yep! Coming right down!” He shouted back, fixing his glasses and looking back to you, expectantly.
“Oh. Ehm… nothing,” you said with a dry laugh, feeling your cheeks heat up under his curious gaze, “Go help Roger. I’ll see you later!” you waved, turning to find Sarah.
You had almost asked him. Which was already a step forward, maybe.
Still, it felt bittersweet. Even if you got his number, there was a good chance he’d be gone by next summer, away in another state doing who knows what.
You sighed as you reached your cabin, finding Sarah in it, packing and cleaning, moving around to the music.
“Anything I can help you with?” you asked, stepping in and smiling at her, happy when she nodded, needing something to keep you busy.
“Last bit of cleaning, yeah. There’s a sponge by the desk over there!” She said, pointing at the clean sponge by the soapy water, the smell coming from it flowery and sweet.
You moved by her side and cleaned along, dancing slightly to the music, not saying much.
And there you were, a few hours later, clutching your bag like your life depended on it, waiting to see Bob for the, possibly, last time.
“Hey.” You heard him call after a moment, jogging up to you and sending a wave at Sarah, patiently waiting in her car.
She had told you to talk to him, that being the only way you could get a lift home from here, and that’s what you did, clinging to that threat to give you the confidence you needed.
“Hey.” you repeated, sighing softly, “so, it’s done, huh?”
You barely had spoken, his arms already wrapped around you in a quick hug, a thank you whispered in your ear before he pushed away, standing before you again.
“I’m sorry. I… I hope to see you again?” He asked, slightly stuttering as he reached for his bag, flinging it over his shoulder with red cheeks.
“Yeah.” You hummed.
Want to exchange numbers? You could’ve asked.
Would you like to keep in contact?
“See you next summer, maybe?” Is what you came up with instead, looking at him expectantly until he nodded, swallowing the words that he might’ve liked saying, leaving you to leave with a curse on your lips at the missed opportunity, and him with a slight sadness in his chest, knowing it was likely he wouldn’t see you next summer.
Winter passed slowly, spring soon breaking the frost and warming everything up, leaving a sense of excitement bubbling in your chest. You couldn't wait for camp to start again, meeting new kids, spending time by the fire, seeing Bob again. It was stupid, but he was kind, and cute, and intelligent, and you enjoyed spending time with him, so harboring a little crush was fine, but a little distraction you could allow yourself.
And then the start of summer officially came, leading you all the way up to the annual meet-up, few days before the kids would arrive, the camp in need of some small maintenance and preparation. It was all great, until each single person arrived, except Bob.
He was always one of the first to arrive, with his bag of stuff and big smile, waving at everyone and standing by your side, your little chit chats vital as you caught up with each other.
But this time he wasn’t here, and you knew what it meant. You tried to hide your wandering gaze, feeling a hand brush over your arm and jolting you out of your thoughts, meeting face to face with Sarah.
“How have you been?” She asked you excitedly, pulling you in a hug. She held you tight, moving you from side to side as she patted your back, happy to see you in this setting rather than your usual neighbourly visits, even if her reaction made it seem like you hadn’t seen each other in months.
“All good!” You lied, smile tight and fake, hoping that she couldn’t read what was really going on in your mind. You had held on to the hope that Bob would be here, but now that you were waiting, it didn’t seem likely anymore.
“Great!” She smiled back, taking in her surroundings and counting each person there. “We’re one short.” She announced, turning to look at you with questioning eyes.
“Bob’s not here.” You said, looking down and revealing your secret almost instantly, knowing she’d understand soon enough anyway. She knew about your slight crush on him, revealing it earlier last fall when you spent a chilly night with some drinks, the alcohol making you spill your secret.
“Oh, honey.” She said softly, hearing your tone and reaching to pull you in another hug, this time trying to comfort you. It was just a crush, but she knew you cared about him, and had desperately hoped that he’d be there.
“Bob?” She asked, perching herself forward, almost falling off her chair. “The cutie with the glasses? The one that always comes over to chat with us but never really talks to me unless you’re around? The one that looks at you like you’re a goddess every time you help a kid that fell over, or when you charm everyone with your stories?” You felt your cheeks burn as you shook your head, knowing that that could not be the truth.
“Sarah, please.” You begged, half-regretting mentioning this to her. “No, no, I fully get it! He is cute, he’s funny, you two work well together. But you should tell him.” She spoke honestly and simply, clinking her bottle to yours.
“Never.” You said with a laugh, knowing that that wouldn’t happen. Sure, you worked together, and you loved talking to him, and every time you were by his side you could get lost in his stories or just sit in silence and enjoy that too, but there was no way you’d tell him that you liked him.
“Okay, then ask for his phone number. That way you can chat, and maybe he’ll ask you out.”
You sighed, shaking your head.
“If the moment calls for it, sure. I’ll… maybe.” You offered, clinking your drink against hers and smiling when she nodded, letting the subject of asking for his number fall, yet still talking about him for another moment, laughing each time you blushed at something she said.
And so, camp went on as it always did, with bumps and cuts and stories and adventures and crying and laughing and joking and hoping.
But with no Bob.
It worked out, somehow, except when the kids felt his absence, asking about him, wondering, talking.
Pauline caught up with you, Nellie by her side as she tugged on your pants.
“Hey, Pauline, Nellie. All good?” you asked, stopping to talk to them.
“Where’s Mister Robert? He said we could go explore the other trail this year!”
Her smile was bright, and your heart broke a little more at the knowledge that he wasn’t here. You had heard him make her that promise, and even if he had tried to avoid it, she clung onto it for the whole autumn, winter and spring.
“Bob isn’t here this year, dear. But we can still go explore the other trail, we’ll just have to-”
“Why isn’t he here?” She asked, interrupting you with a frown.
You sighed, lowering your head at the question you had asked yourself the first day back, waiting for him eagerly to arrive only to be left with one person less on your team.
“From what I know, he joined the Navy.” You explained quickly, grabbing both her hand and Nellie’s as you walked, answering each question as well as you could as you walked back to camp, needing to tell Sarah the change of plan and pick up any gear needed for the new trail.
“Can we send him a letter?” Nellie asked, already collecting a leaf and a flower to press and add to the letter, remembering when he had taught them all about preserving flowers, insisting that they were great gifts, especially for people far away.
“We… I think?” You truly weren’t sure, but you assumed that probably it wouldn’t be an issue. You could go talk to his family and get an address, or just leave all the letters for when he got back.
“We can.” you decided, giving yourself the afternoon to collect the materials for the next day, knowing that some of the kids would want to add little drawings or think about what to write.
“So,” you started, calling the attention of all of the kids, combining a little group of all the ones that had the chance to meet and work with Bob, along with one kid, Henry, that hadn’t, but that had heard so many good things of him that begged you to send him a letter anyway.
“Everyone can get one piece of paper to write, and one to draw. Don’t feel obliged to do both, but don’t waste paper either.” you said, trying to be stern but not overly so, flashing everyone a smile as they walked over to grab what they needed.
By the end of the day you had collected all of the letters, sitting on your bed while you waited for Sarah to be done with her shower, reading through them and smiling at some of the drawings, Bob being drawn in all of them, sometimes with a goofy smile, or with a Superman cape, or giving a thumbs up to a kid when they did something right. He had always been kind to them, always treated them like equals, always cared for them, and the love he gave was always returned, these letters just proving how he was in their eyes.
Dear Bob,
I miss you.
We get to write you letters, we hope your you’re having fun at the navy thing school.
You said we’d get to go try the other trail.
We did last week, it was scary but we did it.
I miss you, come back to camp again next year please.
Love, Nellie.
The first one said, the messy handwriting accompanied by a drawing of her and Bob holding hands, the sun shining in one corner with a big smile.
Dear Bob,
My name is Henry. You didn’t meet me, but I heard from my friend you were amazing.
I’m sorry we didn’t get to meet.
I hope to one day.
Big hugs,
Henry
This letter had a drawing of a car, red and fast, along with a character that probably was Henry, waving.
Bob,
You’re not here this year. I’m sad :(
Will you be back next year? What are you doing now? Do you miss us too?
I drawed your favorite flower, I remember when you showed me in the forest last year.
Come back soon
Lucie
And Lucie, just like she promised, had drawn, with her little uncertain lines and messy coloring, a cute flower, Bob’s name written behind it with a big heart.
You closed your eyes, holding the letters in one hand as you considered if this was okay.
Shaking your head, you picked a piece of paper up, choosing your best pen and writing a few words to accompany the ones from the kids, each one too sweet to not send to the man you had slowly started catching feelings for.
Dear Bob,
So you made it! I had no doubts, I’m so proud of you!
I hope this is okay, but the kids missed you, so I proposed writing you a letter, something to remember us by.
There ended up being quite a few, so I hope between trainings and lessons you’ll get enough time to slowly read them all.
It was lovely getting to spend so many summers with you.
I’ve missed you.
I’ve attached my number at the bottom of this message, it might make communication easier, even if just to let me know you got the letters.
Big hugs from everyone.
You signed your name at the bottom, scribbling your number and checking it thrice, as well as reading the whole thing over and over. It wasn’t much, and most of what you wanted to say went unwritten, not willing to tell him anything more than friendly words, already debating for quite some time before Sarah convinced you to write your number down too.
“He’ll appreciate it.” She comforted you, looking at the letter in your hand.
“It’s so forward.” You muttered, eyebrows drawn together in worry.
There was nothing more that scared you than losing this friendship you had built with him, kill this harboring crush before it even had a chance, just cause you had been too forward.
“This is literally the opposite. If I were you I’d end it with Love, or with my whole heart, or-”
“Okay.” You interrupted her, plucking the page out of her hand and folding it neatly, placing it on top of the stack.
You’d send them tomorrow morning, the address you had gotten written carefully and neatly on the front, all the letters placed together in a simple box, not overly heavy but surely giving him some reading material. You truly hoped he wouldn’t mind you finding out where to send the letters to.
When you had gotten to his family’s ranch, roughly a week ago, you smiled as you knocked on the door, his mother welcoming you in for some fresh lemonade and a slice of her apple pie. You ended up sticking around for over an hour, telling her stories of how you had met Bob, what activities he was the best at organizing and what stories he had told, as well as her mentioning how much he talked about you, making your heart flutter until you realized she probably meant you as in “the whole team”.
By the time the sun had started to set, you had left his house with an address, a piece of pie for the way home, and a new friend.
The next morning you sent the letters, the little box you had prepared now donning his name and an address, and soon, hopefully in the next week, he’d receive them.
A week and a half after that, you received it.
A simple text from an unknown number, the picture attached to the message immediately giving you a clue as to who it might be.
I am honestly speechless. I didn’t expect this, thank you so, so much.
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dinosaurs are one of my biggest special interests. tf2 is probably getting close as well. i will now ramble endlessly about my thoughts, assigning those old men dinosaurs and you're all gonna listen. also, this is based like...99% off of the characters, not taking gameplay stuff into account. it probably makes less sense in that scenario
cut because this will get LONG
also excuse any blur or bad image quality, its the way the images are cropped lol click for better quality!
so, i COULD be boring and bland and predictable and say Scout would fit a Velociraptor...and im gonna. theyre small, agile, a middle ground between labrador levels of dumb and raven levels of smart. relies on others around him to succeed, and i think he deserves to be small and fluffy ^_^
Medic, i think, wouldnt be a dinosaur at all. instead, i see him as a pterosaur! more specifically, Quetzalcoatlus. absolutely massive, terrifying and unsettling to look at, probably more dangerous than it looks (and it looks dangerous). something about it just looks right for him
Pyro's choice is 50% for the name: a Pyroraptor. i also think its cute how striking the resemblance would be with Scout as a Velociraptor: pretty similar in size, build, matching silly levels!! theres also something about the "looks cute, seems cute, moves like a deadly predator, kills like something far worse" kinda deal going on here
Sniper is also technically not a dinosaur! Deinosuchus, an absolutely huge crocodilian, just felt. correct. while not very australian (i actually considered a Minmi for a while!), there is just no choice. big crocodile, patient hunter, strange and offputting. probably bites
Heavy, who i almost dubbed a Borealopelta, is SUCH good Therizinosaurus material. massive, terrifying weapons (im aware that recent study/s suggest their claws werent used for combat. i simply do not care ^_^), but absolute softies. Therizinosaurus was a strict herbivore (contrary to first thoughts after its discovery!), and i think the contrast in appearance vs behavior lines up kinda nice
no explanation needed. look at the image. need i say more. assigning anything besides a Pachycephalosaurus to Engie is just wrong. enjoys play fighting with Pyro and knocking them down (gently) a lot
pretty privilege: the animal. like Microraptor: not very big, probably annoying, weirdly ruthless. spilling anything on them would result in a very slow head turn that signals your incoming demise. has learned to take advantage of Engie's big ass head: he cant actually feel that thing. perfect place to crouch on without causing alarm
i struggled the most with Demo because nothing seemed like...obvious to me? i have very little to say abt this one, i picked Suchomimus based purely off of vibes. i imagined it and it made sense
Soldier has two options, one is funnier than the other. primarily, i'd see him as a Daspletosaurus! one of the smaller tyrannosaurs, still very big though (~8ft tall, ish?). alternatively, i can NOT get the idea of him as a Protoceratops out of my HEAD. small ("small" is relative here. think of like...a really large dog), probably barks for fun, loves digging holes, has every disease
if i could draw with a mild level of skill, i'd be drawing them all day. they mean everything to me. im imagining them so much and its doing wonders for my mind. (also, the scaling off the animals + mercs in these images are not accurate in the slightest, thats just how it turned out)
i'd talk about them for HOURS if i could
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The Nanny Diaries | Chapter 2
Previous chapter | Next chapter
Masterlist
"Rough night?" Mrs. McKenzie asks me with her Scottish accent.
"What?"
"You don't seem to have had a good night of sleep. Was it your date?"
"No, no. That was fine"
"Then what is it?"
"Nothing, just... Do you know this guy called Benjamin Chilwell?"
"Oh, now I understand... You met young Ben, didn't ya?" she winks.
"I might have."
"He's a handsome lad, isn't he?"
"He is ok" I shrug.
"Ok? Just ok? If there were men like him back home, trust me, you wouldn't find me here folding Mr. Kloss' underwear. I would be in my own house, with my handsome husband, and surrounded by 5 kids, another one on their way."
"What?" I laugh.
"What you just heard. If I had crossed paths with a man like that, I would have made him just mine, marrying him and not allowing him to leave my bed."
"Mrs. McKenzie!" I say, laughing again but also blushing, the image of Ben in my bed already forming in my head. Again. Because that's why I didn't have a good night. Because every time I closed my eyes, I only saw him. Him and his stupid smile, and that stupid fluffy hair, and those stupid blue eyes.
"I'm human, what can I say" she shrugs. "But tell me, what happened?"
"Nothing. He has stupid friends, at first it looked like he wasn't as stupid as them, but turns out he is."
"Was there one called Jack?"
"Yes. That was the one who tried to flirt with me."
"Poor lad. I think he fell when he was a baby, hit his head, and lost the few proper braincells he had."
"Mrs. McKenzie!"
"I'm not the only one who thinks it. Even young Ben does. But for some odd reason, he is his dearest friend."
"Because he is as stupid as that Jack, that's why" I say, smoothing a t-shirt with more intensity than usual.
"What did he do to make you dislike him so much already?"
"He believes himself to be this Adonis, this man no one can resist to, and thinks that I will be at his feet, begging for his attention."
"I wouldn't mind being at his feet."
"Oh my God, Mrs. McKenzie!"
"Yes, that's my name. If you keep saying it so much, you'll wear it out."
"I'm sorry, but I just didn't expect you to be this... Horny" I say, whispering that last word.
"Oh, there are many things you still don't know about me, lass. But let me tell you something" she says, picking the basket full of clothes we just finished folding. "There is a lot more to Ben than just a pretty face."
"What does that mean?"
"Get to know him, and you'll find out."
━━━━━━❃━━━━━━
"Can we have chocolate for lunch?"
"Mrs. McKenzie has been cooking the whole day, we can't do that to her."
"After lunch?" Levi asks.
"Only if you eat everything."
"I will, you'll see!"
"Hello, miss. Mr. Levi" Louis says, opening our building's door. "How was school today?"
"Today we learned a new song, and... Ben!" Levi screams, running through the lobby.
"Hello, little man" Ben says, picking him up. "Neighbour" he says when he sees me.
"Chilwell."
"That's not his name" Levi says, confused. "His name is Ben."
"I know. But Chilwell sounds funnier."
"Oh, do you know what is funny, Ben? I learnt to speak like the whales!"
"You did?" he asks as we walk into the lift.
"She taught me" Levi says, pointing at me.
"Has she also taught you the floor you live in?" Ben asks.
"I already knew it. Three! And yours is five. Can I push the button?"
"Of course you can” he says, putting him down.
“Three and five. See?” Levi says with a big smile.
"Well done, little man!" Ben tells him, lifting his hand to high five him and making me smile like an idiot. Why am I smiling like this? He is the idiot. A hot idiot being super cute with Levi, but an idiot still.
"Are you a “Finding Nemo” fan?" he asks me as the lift starts moving.
"What?"
"Speaking like the whales. That's from the movie, isn't it?"
"Oh, yes. I'm more into the classics, but that scene was funny."
"Levi, have you watched “Finding Nemo”?"
"No. Why?"
"Do you want to come watch it at my house? We can even make popcorn. If that's ok with your nanny, of course" Ben says, looking at me with a big smile.
"Oh, say yes, please!" Levi says while doing little jumps of excitement.
"We'll have to ask your mum first."
"She'll say yes, you'll see. She likes Ben a lot."
"Does she?" I ask, arching an eyebrow.
"She does. But I'm not into milfs" Ben whispers in my ear just as the lift's doors open, the feel of his breath on my skin sending goosebumps all over my body.
"Let's go, Levi" I quickly say, grabbing his hand. I need to be away from Ben. Now. If I stay next to him any longer, I don't know what I would do. Punch him, throw myself at him, or both.
"Mrs. McKenzie has my number. Text me if you are coming" he says with a wink while the lift's doors close again.
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When You Realize You’ve Made the Game 1000% Better in Spite of the Dev’s.
So, playing Mass Effect Legendary with the sole intention to avoid Liara in game 1 and 2 makes 3 make NO SENSE whatsoever. So I had it that I played the entire game in Mass Effect 1, grabbing Liara right before the push to Ilos. There is no connection between Liara and Shepard if you do this because they don’t bloody know each other. I didn’t talk to her on the ship, I figured she’s just some civilian currently under protection and does not require the coddling of the commanding officer.
Then in Mass Effect 2 I made the specific choice to not talk to Liara on Illium. I did Miranda’s mission and ran off as fast as possible. Now that did mean that I missed out on recruiting Samara and Thane, but I figured the small sacrifices for the greater good demanded it.
That does mean though – what the heck is Liara’s purpose in 3? Her forced ‘Oh I’ve been here since Eden Prime I MUST go on this mission’ – um…no? Even in a playthrough where I go get you first thing…you still weren’t there for Eden Prime. You are actually the LAST companion to be gotten which means why the hell is 3 telling me you are a required person for this mission? Because you’re an archeologist? I’m sorry, Lara Croft you are not and that makes no bloody sense to bring you. But then to have none of the ‘I gave your body to Cerberus because I JUST COULDN’T LET YOU GO’ (lady, lady, chill out we only knew each other for like a week and I never talked to you.) and her whole ‘Ashley would call it target practice’ uh…nope. Apparently when you forced yourself on Shepard for that ‘mind connection thing’ (which no one will ever convince me wasn’t Liara’s grabby little hands reaching for shit that wasn’t hers to have and that there were hundreds of other ways that Shepard should reasonably have the location of Ilos by that point in the game without relying on some random 3rd party archeologist to just magically recognize some images) you stole information about Ashley and are pretending you knew her because she was already long dead by the time you came aboard.
But also, why the heck are you constantly coming into my quarters? Do I not have a lock? Does the elevator not have a ‘authorized personnel only’ setting? How does she keep getting in? Also – how the hell did she get that equipment onto my ship and why does she have the fancy giant room but everyone else just sleeps on couches basically? Uh, nope. Get out. To the basement with you. No special treatment for a NOBODY on MY SHIP.
Not to mention her whole ‘Shepard that’s my homeworld I have to go!’
No. No you do not. And it actually makes no sense that I would take you if you’re already showing signs of not being rational or ready to do the mission. She’s the most obnoxious person in existence that whole mission. I would have dropped her ass off on the Citadel (if she was even lucky enough to get me to go out of my way and not just drop her off at the nearest taxi station) and not even waved goodbye.
Her little breakdown? Oh my god. I wanted to slap her upside the head. Oh, poor widdle blue baby, your planet has been attacked? Yeah, here’s your tiny little violin on the ship with the people who have all lost their planets before you. I hate how we’re all forced to CODDLE her and for what bloody reason? No reason, absolutely no reason. Forget that, she’d be gone. Can’t suck it up and do what needs to be done? Then get the hell off of a warship that you shouldn’t have been on in the first place.
But let me say – Mass Effect 2 became loads better without the forced Liara scenes. And Mass Effect 1? Nothing is funnier to me than her little temper tantrum that she throws when she gets on the ship.
Do I intentionally not get enough war assets and make sure she’s in the group with EDI with me when I make that final run? …Yup. Almost every. single. time.
Supposed to be a sad moment I think? It’s not. It’s supremely satisfying. It took me 3 games to finally manage it. No more Dev’s Girlfriend Plot Armor protecting her for that scene and it is GLORIOUS.
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What lies before us
Book 2 of a Jack Thompson X Reader Story
Book 1: What Lies Beneath
Chapter 1
Y/N was good at keeping secrets. She was excellent at it – after all, it had been her job for four years, and back then, her life was on the line every day. If she had slipped up, she would have been dead meat. She was excellent at it because she was a spy – keeping secrets was in their job description. She had no problem continuing the banter and annoyed remarks towards Jack Thompson during their working hours to upkeep the image that nothing had changed. She had no problem doing it. It was a different story for Jack. After all, his normal tone with people could often be characterised as the tone of a jerk. What was worse, Y/N had to endure the remarks of other people in the office, and as much as he liked to throw them onto the street, he couldn’t. They hadn’t done something he had not done too. At a time.
Today was such a day. Agent Lee’s vocal comment about how women simply didn’t belong in this environment, even ‘if they looked like Y/N’ annoyed him probably ten times as much as it did her.
“Good thing I make the hiring and firing decisions, Lee, isn’t it?”, Thompson said in passing, “Or did you get the bullet out of my chest?”
“Sorry, Chief.”
Y/N clenched her teeth to stop her from laughing. She didn’t know what was funnier – Lee’s voice that sounded like a bitten dog, or Thompson’s poisonous stare. When she brought the coffee to the Chief – an unfortunate job she had yet to get rid of somehow – she whispered in passing: “Try not to stare him to death. He’s said this about Marge a million times.”
He would have loved to say that she was not Peggy Carter, but he also knew that it was better to just say ‘thanks’ for the coffee.
Back at her desk, her phone rang.
“Agent L/N, SSR, with whom am I speaking?”
“Y/N!”
“Peggy?”, Y/N asked, “What a coincidence, I was just thinking about you. What’s the matter? How’s the western front?”
“The temperatures are slowly getting more bearable”, Carter said, “it’s even rained some days ago.”
Staring outside the window, Y/N noticed that it was still raining in New York. “What a miracle.”
“I made some progress on the Arena Club pin. It seems to link to the club’s city of origin, where they, at least historically, would hold their meetings in an undisclosed location. I’d imagine that, whatever the key opens, it will be connected to this place.”
“And where is the club’s origin?”, Y/N asked back, noting all the info down onto a paper, “Do you know that already?”
“That’s why I’m calling you”, Peggy replied, “because it’s not on the west coast. Imagine where the most likely location is for an organisation connected to wealth, power, and politics.”
“…Washington D.C.”
“It would appear so.”
“Fantastic. And what about Underwood?”, Y/N questioned.
“There have been no crimes reported in our jurisdiction that would match her skillset. It’s not impossible, of course, that she is around here, still, but she knows about the Arena Club. After some digging, we found out that not only was she hired to steal the pin, but she’d had relationships with at least one of the members before their… unfortunate demise through Whitney Frost.”
Y/N sighed. Catching Dottie Underwood was as easy as catching a dragon. Just, she’d argue, more dangerous for the people involved.
“I’ll let Chief know.”
“If we’ll find the time, we’ll fly over to discuss the case in depth. We just have to finish up a few things here, first.”
“Don’t worry, Peggy, we’ll not botch the job”, Y/N assured, “Though I’m not looking forward to heading into DC.”
She could hear Peggy laugh and someone speak in the background. “Tell Sousa I said hi.”
“I will. See you soon, Y/N.”
“Bye, Peggy.”
She stared at her notes, exhaling slowly. Another day, another attempt to catch a ex-Soviet child assassin.
Getting up, she pinched the bridge of her nose. The Arena Club was about as far removed from any Communist organisation she could think of. Aside from the Mafia, there was hardly any organisation more interested in wild capitalism than the Arena Club.
“Chief”, she exclaimed when knocking at his door, “Carter called. Underwood.”
She was called into the office and placed her notes on Jack’s desk. “She traced the Club’s origin to DC. And she assumes that Underwood is going after whatever it is the Club was hiding, too.”
He rubbed his eyes, studying her handwriting. “Brilliant”, he deadpanned.
“It’s the best lead we’ve got on both”, she shrugged, “and I’d really love to know that the Russian killing machine is locked up somewhere real save.”
“You want to lock her up?”, he questioned, “You have too much faith in our prison system. Unless, of course, you want to keep watch yourself.”
“You’re thinking of permanently stopping her?”, Y/N inquired, crossing her arms.
“Accidents happen”, he shrugged, “and usually, if you have a bomb on your hands, you diffuse it, not bury it under some concrete.”
Y/N scoffed: “I suppose. Do we have the clearance to neutralise her?”
“She’s Soviet. Of course we do. Executive Order 9835, remember?”, he asked back, referring to Truman’s decree on tighter regulations on Federal Agents to sniff out any Communist sympathisers, “We’re just doing what they’d want us to do. Eliminate the Red threat.”
Though liberally interpreted, Y/N was aware of the current climate. The White House and the Congress would have their backs. After all, they were suspecting foreign agents everywhere.
“Alright then”, she nodded, “Shooting it is.”
She was about to leave when she heard Agent Hill call her name: “L/N, phone’s ringing!”
“What is it today?”, she hissed, turning on the spot to get the call.
“Agent L/N, SSR, whose speaking?”
“Y/N?”
Y/N wasn’t quite sure if she heard right. “Jonas? Is that you?”
“Don’t ask how I got this number, I probably breached protocol more than fifty times”, she could have recognised the voice anywhere. He had worked with her in Germany – one of the few, incredibly valuable locals that worked with the opposition.
“Protocol?”, she asked, “You’re working for whom, exactly?”
“MI6, and we’ve intercepted communication from East Germany”, he spoke quickly, and Y/N knew better than to waste time asking questions. “They were discussing plans to re-establish communication with an asset in America. The pronouns used refer to a female agent who has entered the US between 1941 and 1946 and has had contact with the SSR.”
“Anything else?”
“It’s incredibly vague, but that it is of the outmost importance that this operation be kept from the Americans, and that something has to be shipped from America to Leningrad, before November.”
“Why would MI6 not contact us in the first place?”, she questioned, “Shouldn’t that be in the interest of both?”
In the background, she could hear Agent Lee barked at more junior agents to fetch him coffee, given the designated person for that was busy. Y/N would have loved to inform him to keep his mouth shut, but was too busy listening to Jonas.
“There was an order not too long ago to send these types of things to the FBI rather than the SSR. I don’t know why.”
“I think I know”, she groaned. Vernon Masters – may his soul rest in the hell he deserved. “Jonas, if you hear anything, and I mean, anything else, please find a way to contact me again. And thank you. I know this is dangerous for your position.”
“Hell”, he scoffed, “We’ve done worse. They’ll just kick me out, not execute me like the Nazis would have.”
“Still. I’ll be in touch.”
She stared at her notes. She had heard Thompson walking up to her during the phone talk and was now looking over her shoulder.
“What was that about?”
“Seems like today is Dottie-Underwood-day”, she replied sarcastically, turning towards him, “That was Jonas Bauer. He was a German resistance member and worked with me in the war. He’s now working for MI6, who apparently received the order to disregard the SSR, and direct their information to the FBI.” She pressed her lips together: “Anyways. Short summary is, Underwood will steal something that has to be shipped to Leningrad, before November.”
Thompson frowned. “Why the tight schedule?”
Y/N tilted her head. “If I had to guess, because whatever she’s stealing is quite sensitive. If I were them, I’d avoid using ships if possible. The American navy has the possibility to hunt them down, and a ship is more vulnerable than a plane. And possibly, the November-deadline has something to do with the temperature. Which would mean it’s something that is volatile to altitude, and at least partially made out of liquid or gas that shouldn’t drop below a certain temperature. That would explain the ship, and the month.”
The agents around her looked at her with a perplexed expression. Jack simply looked dumbfounded.
“Yeah. I guess it would.”
“And you know who could maybe give us an idea of what they want to steal?”, Y/N asked, dreading her own answer. Not again!
“No.”
“Yes. I don’t like it either.”
“After Dooley and L.A., I’d say going to Stark is way down the list”, Jack retorted tensely.
“Sure”, she shrugged, “Do you have any other brilliant, albeit conceded scientists on that list of yours? Maybe Samberly, if we ask nicely.”
He threw her a look, and she only grinned: “Like I said. I don’t like it either.”
“We don’t even know where Stark is. He could be out of the country, for all that we know”, Jack objected again.
“Yeah, he could”, she agreed, “but you know who probably does? Edwin Jarvis.”
He raised an eyebrow: “You have the phone number of Stark’s butler?”
“I had to be able to reach him in L.A. I naturally wrote it down”, she shrugged, “So yes. I do.”
“Great. Tell him I am repulsed by the thought of working together.”
Y/N shook her head: “Unbelievable.”
Looking up, she noticed again the gazes of her co-workers observing their interaction. Too familiar? Raising an eyebrow, she asked: “What, anyone else have something to contribute that I should relay to the butler?”
Jack frowned at his staff: “Your work isn’t doing itself, agents.”
A muffled ‘sorry chief’ emerged from the room as he left Y/N to her own devices as she now made the call to Mr. Jarvis whilst the rest of the office rejoiced that the poor agent who had been barked at by Lee returned with their coffee.
“Edwin Jarvis-“
“Good morning, Mr. Jarvis, this is Y/N L/N from the SSR. We’ve worked together not too long ago”, she said quickly.
“Yes, I remember. The Frost-incident.”
“Exactly. See, we have a development here with the Underwood-case, and what is important right now is that the Soviets want to steal something, and they need Underwood for it. I suspect it could be linked to the Arena Club. In any case, they need the item or items to be shipped from the US to Leningrad before November. I assume it’s because of the volatility of the product, which would indicate it is some sort of weapon. Does Howard Stark know anything about the sorts?” She spoke so silently that not even the man at the next desk could have understood her well, a habit she had picked up early in her career as a spy.
“Mr. Stark knows a great deal about many things, but that does not mean he shares it openly with his surroundings.”
“Well, it is very important. Could you ask him if he has ever knowingly sold anything to members, or to people close to members of the Arena Club, or if – once again – some blueprint of his disappeared? I’m sorry to bother you again, but the security of the world might be under threat here.” Y/N had the ability to use polite words, but utter them in such a way that it was clear that she did not accept ‘no’ for an answer.
“I will chase him down to inquire. It might take a while, though, I am afraid. He is currently on a yacht outside of Hawaii.”
Of course he was. She rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Well, he can dock in Pearl Harbour”, Y/N retorted dryly, “And take a plane from there back to L.A. He might need Miss Carter’s help to explore all possible links of that being one of his inventions that got stolen, or sold.”
“Yes, Miss L/N.”
“Thank you, Mr. Jarvis. And until next time.”
It had felt that it was one of these days where Y/N had repetitively run in circles from her desk, to Thompson’s office, to the coffee machine and back again. It was Agent McKinley’s turn for the nightshift, so the rest could leave between six and seven. Returning to her desk to collect her handbag before leaving, she noticed a note placed on top of it, which she carefully unfolded. She recognised the handwriting instantly – Jack’s handwriting was much neater than most would suspect.
19:15. Entrance Underground.
He always used the European way of writing time – apparently, he had been made accustomed to it in the Marine Corps. A way to avoid the a.m./p.m. confusion – a confusion Americans invented, as Y/N made the experience that not even the British subscribed to their way of telling the time.
It was 19:04 when she had unfolded the note, so she left the SSR office without wasting more time, and to make sure the two of them would not leave the office in immediate succession.
It was September – and it was still pretty warm, so walking down the streets was actually still a pleasant experience. At 19:15, as expected, both of them walked towards the underground station and headed down the street to the parking area where Thompson had parked his car.
“If I may give you a piece of advice”, Y/N said with a grin, “Next time someone makes a foul remark, don’t act like you care. You’re not supposed to care.”
“Yeah”, he grunted, “But what the hell has Lee contributed since joining the SSR? Even of the basis of merit, he should keep his mouth shut.”
“Yes”, she sighed, “But it’s not really about merit, is it?”
Jack rolled his eyes. He knew what she was saying was true. He had even said the same thing to Peggy. They’d never be seen as an equal to men – at least not by most of their co-workers.
When getting in the car, Y/N quickly checked their surrounding to make sure they wouldn’t directly be seen by another agent, but the street was empty.
“Will you let me work the Underwood case?”, she asked quietly when he started driving down the street. Jack remained silent for a while, and his face grew serious.
“You know my skills are exceptional for this kind of work”, she reminded him, knowing that it wasn’t really about her skills.
“I know that, Y/N.”
“We’re in this profession for a reason, Jack. It’s bound to be dangerous”, she replied silently, “But you can’t keep me from being involved. Having the best people on the job reduces the risks of failure. If you send less-qualified agents up for it, you’re just setting them up to be killed.”
“I understand that, Y/N, I do. But that doesn’t mean I’ll like it.”
“But you’ll let me do it regardless?”, she asked back.
“We’ll cross that bridge when it comes to it. Who knows? Maybe, by some miraculous coincidence, she’ll be hit by a truck”, he replied dryly.
“Yes. I’ve heard that’s a common way for Soviet super-assassins to die”, Y/N agreed cynically, “Right after drowning in the shower.”
......
He pulled up to the empty parking space next to the entrance of the apartment block outside the city centre. He liked the anonymity of it – he hardly knew his neighbours, because of his very erratic working hours, the travelling, and the occasional near-death experiences, he hardly had the chance to bump into any of them. It was only the third time Y/N was at his apartment, because, quite honestly, he preferred the atmosphere in hers. But his was closer to work, and that made for less commute. And for more sleep.
Whilst Jack warmed up something for dinner, Y/N was occupied with setting her hair in pin curls for the night. She always thought that this procedure made her look silly, or like a grandma. If Jack had been honest though, he thought watching her do it was actually a very personal experience. Because, unless they let you, women would not show the process to men. It signified a sort of closeness that was hard to describe.
Wrapping the curls in a silk towel to secure them, and to have a more comfortable time sleeping, Y/N returned to the kitchen area to join him for dinner. It was beef stew with potatoes, which wasn’t fancy, but it was tasty. And most significantly, he had actually prepared it in foresight, so she gave him extra points for resourcefulness.
“How is the sleeping going?”, she asked eventually, referring to the occasional nightmares she had witnessed the first time they had shared a bed not that long ago.
“You know”, he evaded, “It’s getting there.”
Y/N raised an eyebrow, not truly convinced that this meant it was getting better, but decided not to interrogate him. She’d see it eventually, anyways, she suspected.
“And did you tell your mother that I am back and alive, and all is well between us?”, she asked jokingly.
“Yes.” He grinned: “But now, ma is insistent on you coming over to say hi.”
“I will”, she assured, “once we have a quiet week.”
He laughed: “Yeah – like that’s going to happen any time soon.”
Y/N got ready to go to bed, taking off her makeup, neatly folding her clothes, making those for the next day ready. It was habit – just like always having a switch-blade knife tied to her thigh. It was habits like these that had kept her alive through the war, and they were hard to shake.
She wore a simple night robe to bed, nothing like in the magazines with lavish fur, but only simple embroidery.
As she would have guessed, Jack’s nightwear style was about as adventurous as hers – a cotton button-down shirt and pants.
“Those pants have a hole at the ankle”, she pointed out as he entered the room.
He looked down and shrugged: “It’s for sleeping, right? Besides, I don’t wear pants, I wear trousers.”
“What’s the difference?”, she questioned amusedly as he climbed into the bed next to her.
“Women wear pants, men trousers. Or so my DI informed us in Boot Camp.”
“Your DI must have made this up”, she laughed, “But sure. Jack Thompson only wears manly trousers.”
She pulled the blanket up to her chin and turned to on her side, facing Jack. “Good night.”
“Night.” He switched off the lights and searched for a comfortable position. It was still foreign to know that someone was sleeping just inches beside him, but not uncomfortable. Apart from the cold feet, that was apparently something all women universally shared to torment the men in their beds. Or so he was convinced.
Jack was an incredibly light sleeper – he hadn’t been as a child, but since the war, he was incredibly sensitive to sounds. Hence, when someone knocked against the front door, it took about three seconds for him to be wide awake.
“What the hell”, he grumbled, rubbing his eyes. It couldn’t be neighbours – again, barely anyone knew him. He dragged himself out of bed to see that it was shortly after three. He trotted towards the door, only to see two figures through the peephole, whose silhouettes he could make out even with the dim light of the corridor outside. He looked behind him, hearing Y/N’s steady breathing. He prayed to God that she’d stay asleep.
He opened the door and stepped outside: “This better be important, Sousa, it’s three in the morning!”
“We thought it is important to let you know right now, as we’re headed to the airport right after to fly to Atlanta to follow a lead there”, Carter shot back at his annoyed tone.
“’A’right”, he rubbed his face awake, “shoot.”
“Stark was able to reduce the numbers of candidates down to one he finds most likely. It’s a bomb that has about the destructiveness of a nuclear bomb, but its primary ingredient is a special gas, a gas only he knows how to make. But a member of the Arena Club once saw his equations and the blueprints”, Sousa explained.
“So you suspect they’re transporting a bomb case and explosive gas?”, Jack asked back, “Of course they do. It always has to be something that explodes, right?”
“We’re trying to hunt down the scientists who could have produced it”, Peggy added, “one of them is in Atlanta.”
“Got it.”
“Jack, who are you talking to? It’s the middle of the- Oh, hi, Chief Sousa. Peggy.” Y/N walked up to the door, and though only half-awake, she wasn’t quite sure what was funnier, the disbelief on Sousa’s face, Peggy’s mixture of satisfaction and horror, or Jack’s embarrassment.
“You two keep your mouths shut”, Thompson hissed, “You understand? I don’t need this getting to my agents just yet.”
“Oh yeah? I remember there was a time you loved taking a jab at Peggy and I”, Sousa retorted with a grin.
“Yeah”, Thompson scoffed, “Then you tell me how that’ll end up for Y/N. Whatever she does then, she’ll always be seen as the one whose here because she’s got one on the chief. That was a bit different with Carter.”
“Jack, they take the piss regardless”, Y/N muttered amusedly, “and let that be my problem.”
“Well, and you know what this”, Peggy gestured at Jack and Y/N, “means. You owe me a dinner.”
“You bet on us?”, Jack asked offended.
“I bet on you not constantly having a stick up your behind, indeed”, Peggy winked, “and I think I have been proven more than right.”
“Oh, Peggy”, Y/N shook her head, “Please.”
“Anyways”, Sousa cleared his throat, “I guess, uh, I guess we’ll leave you to it, then. See you soon, Y/N. Jack.”
“Leave us to it?”, Jack repeated, “We were sleeping!”
“Whatever you say, Chief Thompson”, Peggy waved at them, “that’ll be your loss then.”
They left an amused Y/N, and a very red Jack Thompson behind, who was thankful the apartment was not lit, so Y/N couldn’t see his cheeks.
“They couldn’t have left a note”, he grumbled, stepping back into his apartment and locking the door, “It had to be right now.”
“Don’t brood”, she yawned, “It’s way too early for that.” The bed was still warm as they climbed back in.
“I brood whenever I please”, he muttered into his pillow.
“That you do.”
“Y/N?”
“Hm?”
What did he want to say? They didn’t say ‘I love you’. Neither of them had yet.
“Sleep well.”
“You too, Jack.”
......
Jack dropped Y/N off far enough so that she could make her way to the office on her own and that they’d be at least 15 minutes between them arriving.
“Good morning, Agent Wallace”, she said when entering the headquarters, “Agent Lee. Chief Thompson.”
He nodded at her, and both found it incredibly odd to greet each other after they had literally eaten breakfast together not even an hour prior.
They settled in for the day and the sounds of paper printing, phones ringing and men cussing created the unique atmosphere that was so typical for the NYC-HQ of the SSR.
“Chief!”, Agent Harrow exclaimed from the phone, “there’s an incident in a movie theatre down 31st street, it sounds incredibly similar to the case you covered not too long ago.”
“Midnight oil?”, Y/N asked confused, looking at Jack, “but Howard said-“
“Exactly”, Thompson interjected, rolling his eyes, “Harrow, Ramirez, McKinley and Wallace, you go have a look. If it is what it seems like – do yourself a favour and don’t pick up the canister.”
The three of them got on their way immediately. Y/N followed Jack into his office under the disguise of bringing him coffee: “You don’t think that’s fishy? Howard hated this invention. He made damn sure he destroyed all the material he had.”
“Could have been someone working off his blueprints again”, he shrugged, “it’s better to have a look than let the NYPD run into it and gouching their eyes out.”
Y/N hadn’t even considered what would happen if untrained policemen came in contact with the gas. Jack was right. It was the careful option.
“You’re right.”
He raised his eyebrows: “’cuse me?”
“You’re right”, she repeated with a raised eyebrow. She hadn’t spoken unclearly.
“That’s a first.”
“Like hell it is”, she grinned and left him be.
In hindsight, Y/N knew that there were just five agents left, because it was still before nine when those would come in with a longer commute. This was unusual, normally, they always wanted eight to be here minimum, nightshift and Sundays aside.
It was like in a movie with the roll broken, moving incredibly slow. The door was thrown wide open and five men stormed in.
“Hands up!”
Y/N identified the accent immediately. Eastern European. Most likely Soviet.
“Guns on ground or we shoot!!”
They were outnumbered – even if they drew their guns, they had them already ready to fire. They’d be quicker. So they complied.
“Codebreaker?”
Jack and Y/N’s eyes met. Though she hadn’t worked as a codebreaker at Bletchley, she had been trained in it. She nodded almost invisibly, and just as invisibly, he shook his head. The last thing he wanted is for them to take her, or isolate her from the group.
“I am.”
“You four”, one of the men put his rifle at Thompson’s neck, “In there!” Thompson, Lee, Michaelson and Goldberg were shoved into Thompson’s office, leaving Y/N with the five men in the main hall.
They shoved her at a desk and placed a paper in front of her.
“Watch the door. Make sure those investigating the theatre don’t get back in. Three men can handle this girl.” He didn’t know she spoke Russian.
The paper was a code of British origin. Dated yesterday. To the Americans.
“Move. Break it”, the man right behind her instructed. He was tall, about two meters, and heavy-set. The other two were significantly shorter and stockier, about 175cm.
“Yes”, she nodded, throwing a glance at Thompson and her colleagues. There it was again. This immense calmness whenever she had known in war that if she failed, she’d be dead. It was so ultimate. So clear.
She heard two of the five men disappear, manning the front entrance from the outside. She didn’t have to worry about them for the time being. She felt the cool blade against her thigh. A blade would never win against rifles, so she had to convince them to drop them.
She started to get an idea of the code that had been used, noting down the patterns to create a key. The men barraged the door to Thompson’s office to make more than sure they had no chance to get out. But given they were now unarmed, they were no real threat anyways.
“What is it?”, the tall fellow asked harshly.
“This will take a while!”, she replied curtly, “but could you please put those guns on the ground? I can’t run and you took my gun off me. They make me incredibly uncomfortable.”
“What do you think, boss?”
“Typical American sissy. Hmh, I mean, what is the harm in it. The other men are barred inside that room.” He gave her a fake smile: “Only for you, beauty.”
They placed the rifles on the desk behind them and she started writing down the initial lines of the document. This was exactly why women made for excellent spies – they could demand something and their perceived softness would help them get their way.
Intercepted conversation between KGB and Soviet Asset in US
She waited until they were just in the right position. One of the men stood in front of Thompson’s barraged door, inspecting it with a self-assured smile. The big fellow stood to her right, close enough that she could take him out first. The third was checking the street for the returning agents.
‘Here goes nothing’.
.....
“Goddammit!”, Jack cursed, punching nothing but the wall. He had fallen for their trap – the theatre, that had been a set-up to draw out agents.
“Chief, if she can hold them off long enough for the 9 o’clock shift to arrive-“
“You don’t seriously think they won’t kill us before?”, Thompson hissed, “That’s why they came so early. They must’ve been aware of the schedule!”
“But if they need her-“
“Then they take her, Lee!”, Thompson interrupted, tearing his hair, “Fuck. Fuck!”
“Chief-“
“Just shut the hell up, Lee!”, Thompson raised his hand at his agent and silenced the man with a stare that could have killed.
He watched outside, through the glass, watching Y/N. She looked so focused, so absorbed, so aware.
So brave.
She looked up, just a fraction of a second. Enough to localise the position of the three men that were still in the room.
“No.” Jack’s voice broke. She’d die. They’d reach their weapons. She couldn’t be quick enough to strangle three men. Not when at least one of them towered over her like a giant.
This was a suicide mission. He was about to yell, yell to her not to do whatever she was thinking about doing.
But she was beyond asking for permission. That was the Y/N he had never seen before.
He knew the feeling he felt. It felt like back on Iwo when his buddy left their foxhole to man the machine gun whose gunner had just been killed. He knew that that was a suicide mission, but they had to try. And the minute his buddy left the protection of the foxhole, he was gone. But this felt even worse. Because whatever he felt for his buddy, that was brotherly love. And death of a brother hurt like hell. But this, this was no brotherly love. This was love that hadn’t yet had the chance to develop. He could feel his heart stop.
......
Y/N’s body tensed up in preparation. It was a split second that it took for her to be ready to attack. She leapt up from her chair, throwing her entire weight against the bear of a man next to her, puncturing his aorta, which resulted in blood spurting in all directions, but at least, he was dead in an instant. The next man was the one at the window who wanted to grab a rifle, but she managed to grab his arm, pull him towards her and shove the blade right through his throat. The third one knew he was done for – she was closer to the weapons than he was. She contemplated killing him nonetheless. But some part of her didn’t want to become what she knew she could be – a killer that didn’t care about her death toll.
“You’re all filthy, disgusting examples of humanity’s worst”, she spoke in Russian, taking handcuffs from the desk with her and immobilising him. Her fighting style looked different to Peggy’s – it was more targeted, more specific. It was, in essence, trained to be lethal.
Only then did she look behind her to see the cut-up bodies of the other two men lying on the ground. They lay in pools of their own blood. She looked at her hands that were covered in it, too. Grabbing a handkerchief, she got most of it off, enough so that she could clear the door to Thompson’s office without smearing it everywhere. Slowly, she started to regain her other senses. She could hear Jack yelling her name. She looked up to see him and the other three looking at her, eyes wide.
Her hands were shaking when she opened the door to his office.
“Y/N, oh God, Y/N-“ Jack grabbed her by the shoulders, looking at her face, “You alright?”
“Yes. Yes, I’m good, J-“
He squeezed her against his chest, and she wanted to inform him that he’d get blood all over him, but it was pretty clear that he didn’t care. “I’m so sorry.”
The door was opened, and the other two men came into sight, but only for a fraction of a second – when they saw the carnage, they took off running. Lee and Goldberg were about to run after them, but Thompson raised a hand: “If they leave the building, they’ll run right into our line of fire.” He pointed to the windows to their right and took the rifles left behind from the assailants.
Y/N watched him from behind. His hands were perfectly calm at the trigger, the weapon perfectly still settled into his shoulder.
Two rapid shots. One was shot in the back of the head, the other in the shoulder. Within a few seconds, neither were still breathing.
“Not bad”, she said dryly.
“I’m not a Marine for nothing.”
“And here I thought you were the Chief of the SSR.”
“That, too”, he replied dryly, “but I’ll never stop being a Marine.”
A/N: I know, it’s insane. It didn’t even take a week. I unfortunately don’t have a clear updating schedule, I’m sure it will slow down at a point. I do have good news though - I have two chapters in reserve, so it hopefully doesn’t take ages for those to be published either. I have a plan, I have an ending in mind, and I want it to be beautiful, terrible, sad, and delightful. Let’s see if I succeed at that. Do let me know your thoughts. Also, on a side note: I really try to do my research to the extent possible: E.g. I found it very important to hightlight that Jack is a Marine (not a member of the Army, or the Navy or Air Force), because it was mentioned that he saw action on the beaches of Iwo Jima, and that was a battle fought by the USMC. And yes. I read like 5 autobiographies of veterans of Iwo & Okinawa to get their education, vocabulary and so on down. Hope you enjoy these little insights into history!
@abysshaven
@deathofmissjackson
@okkulta
@briskywalker
@elleclairez
@ultrarebelheart
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ATEEZ AS MURDERERS PART 2: 2/8 HONGJOONG
Word count: 588
Kind of a part 2 to "ATEEZ as Murderers" maybe I'll make a part (or "part") 3. To make it easier and funnier for me; the victim's name is Victor (get it? Cuz they sound similar.) Mori (cuz death. And also; Memento Mori.)
This one's pretty short. I'm sorry. [Edit 06-01-23: It's been who knows how long since I posted this and I just realised this sounded like a short joke-]
Obviously this is going to be rather gruesome so please read at your own risk.
I DON'T OWN THIS IMAGE/THESE IMAGES. I EITHER GOT THEM FROM TUMBLR OR GOOGLE.
This is purely a work of fiction and is not meant to represent nor slander ATEEZ in any way. This is for entertainment purposes only.
——————————————————————
HONGJOONG
——————————————————————
Victor's POV:
"Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"
I tried to get away from him but I just COULDN'T! This motherfucker was everywhere!
I've turned every corner, jumped every fence, gone in every circle and avoided every dead end… until now.
I know every corner and fence and circle that all I have left right now are the dead ends. He's destroyed and blocked any and all exits.
I darted into an abandoned warehouse thinking I had lost him. I ran in and stopped to catch my breath. I couldn't hear his footsteps so I was pretty sure I had lost him.
Then I heard that signature giggle.
"You're a fast one, aren't you?"
He strolled into the warehouse a tad out of breath and with a surprised look on his face. He looked as if he had been refreshed by a morning jog. This was nothing to him...
"You're like a bunny! You were hopping everywhere and destroying everything by setting off all the traps I had placed, like DAMN! I wasn't expecting you to survive even ONE of those!" He laughed like a madman.
Through all his cackling he pulled out a gun and shot at my leg but I moved just in time.
"Oh come on now!" his disappointment showed, like I had ruined his fun.
He kept shooting and kept missing as I tried and somehow successfully managed to dodge them. That was until he got my ankle.
I tripped and fell to the floor in crippling pain. "Daaammmnn… that was SO unnecessary!" He sounded out.
He aimed at my body trying to hit my shoulders and knees. After 3 stray shots he actually got all four of them. With a Mario jump of success he skipped towards my screaming writhing body.
He giggled and couldn't seem to stop. His gaze was locked on and I don't think he even blinked once as he came closer, his wide eyes and evil smile triggering every response I had.
He simply aimed the gun at my head and pulled that damn trigger.
Hongjoong's POV:
I took off my backpack and swapped out my gun for the cheap makeup I had bought. I wasn't about to waste good money on these guys. As I took it out I realised I was out of stock and took out my phone to make a voice note.
"B u y m o r e s m o k e b o m b s ." I put my phone back along with the makeup excluding the red lipstick. I took that over to Victor and drew a nice big smile on his face. It was a bit crooked so I tried fixing the messy lines. I was going to scout the best wall to spray paint when I heard sirens just as I had finished his pretty smile.
I heard the rush of footsteps from the cops racing towards the warehouse. I threw the lipstick back in my bag and grabbed a paint grenade I made a few days ago. I zipped the bag back up and put it on. Covering both of our heads with my jacket, I threw it almost directly in front of me and the paint covered everything. I heard people exclaiming and coughing and I knew they were close by.
Letting out a giggle full of excitement I dropped Mori's corpse and quickly made my way to and through the manhole behind me, covering it back up before running away through the underground pathways once again.
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Sometimes I really want to show movies like Wolfwalkers and Nimona to mom. Because I may be 30 but she's the only one in the family who knows I'm ace and leaning to girls, and she tries to be... idk even, tolerant? I wouldn't call this accepting but love for her daughter - even though the image she has in mind has never existed - and prejudice fight inside and the first one is still winning, even though just by a bit. I was surprised... and not surprised. Despite some of her pretty terrible traits, she's a clever woman. Every bit of "Think. With. Your. Own. Head" I have in me comes from mom - not because she's drilled that into me, but because I kept seeing her being like this and I still admire that.
So I... have this idyllic idea that if she saw these stories, so heartfelt and real and true despite the fantasy element, she'd have understood. Because it all is so clear and on the nose there? It's impossible not to see, right?
Then I read comments people from my country leave on platforms featuring, say, Nimona. With its clearer than a bright sunny day metaphors. And they DON'T GET IT.
They still don't get it.
So I keep waiting patiently for the time I can move out (being ND and weak physically makes it a pretty tough task to accomplish), be independent and... maybe try then. Maybe she will understand. I bet she had her guesses my ex girlfriend wasn't just a friend (and I don't think I ever said that while we were in a relationship iirc) and still welcomed us both very warmly all the time.
I know I'm "a grown up" now and shouldn't care but, as a grown up, I have a total right not to give a flying fuck about what I should or shouldn't do from anyone else's pov. Plus, there are never too many allies. Especially in times like these.
It's also funny how dad seems to pay no mind to how my life should look at all, it's not even remotely one of his concerns (THANKFULLY), so I kind of think he'd understand, too, but at the same time he's generally homophobic because that's how this country society is on average, so he has no reasons to stop and think what his actual attitude is? And it may be different? At least that's what I hope.
Even funnier thing: my gran (who I hate 80% of time but that's not the point rn) keeps telling me not to get married (with a man not only by default but that's what she actually means, the only difference is she doesn't think there are other options) because "you should enjoy your life for as long as you can". Well, it's not funny actually because her own marriage was nothing but terrible and I hate that pathetic excuse for a man with passion. I had just 11 years to know her husband (I refuse to call him grandfather) and mostly it was a few months in summer and like 10 winter days when the family gathered for the New Year, but fucking hell. I had nightmares about him and the village house because of him for a decade after he finally died. I was so content when he did.
So uh. Yeah. I don't have much grounds for being optimistic but I also kinda do. So I keep hoping.
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Could we see your head canon for how Takaaki got that scar on his forehead?
Most people (Taka included) think that Takaaki's injuries were sustained during the line of duty, but in fact almost all of them were caused by other officers under the guise of 'friendly fire'.
Takaaki was made an instant target after his father's impeachment, the fallout effecting most police payslips/pensions. His own record was impeccable so they couldn't outright fire him, so he was bumped down to cold cases, and would be relegated to the worst patrols when he signed for overtime. He was extremely outspoken against corruption so the scandal destroyed his credibility and every dirty cop saw it as a perfect opportunity. For his part; Takaaki goaded them- meticulously gathering evidence because his word alone meant nothing, using spite to fuel his personal vendetta and pursue a one man campaign to see every single one of them taken down.
It's not just the gangs who call him 'Demon Cop'
(in canon the scar was from one of his beta designs but he lost it in the final cut which was a shame)
references to [these] - [asks]
I do love the idea of Takaaki having his own 'Ishida' side, he certainly has the eyes for it! But my bro made a good point that if Taka gets his emotional side from his mother - stands to reason he gets his 'Ishida' side from her too. Especially with her sheltered upbringing she'd probably had no healthy way to express such utter rage, other than becoming a Mama Bear.
If that was the case too - it makes it even funnier to imagine Taka's maternal grandparents, recognising the boy that looks like their ex-son in law, with the personality of their estranged daughter, and remembering her temper. They might make themselves scarce.
(alternatively: "Hey Takaaki! How do you keep control of your 'Ishida' side so well?" "That's my secret. . . I'm always 'Ishida'.")
:-O!!! Gift fic to me?! That's so cool!
I hoped no one would notice but I completely avoided naming her on purpose, as I am diabolical at names- I have OCs from childhood who are still nameless - So I'ma take a leaf from @porcelain-dionysus 's suggestion and give her the 'Kiyo' from Kiyotaka's name : Thus Kiyoko. :)
---
You're totally right. Taka was a lifeline for Takaaki, someone for whom all this pain and struggle and misery was for. He thrives on being able to care for someone, to be useful to them, to have them depend on him, and Taka makes it easy to weather the storm.
No, Takaaki is a bean pole. He runs on coffee, cigarettes and spite.
And riceballs when Taka makes them for him.
(feat. the convo with my brother when I sent him this pic)
The image of Takaaki as a serial dater who has made his way methodically through all the parents of his son's friends is PEAK. Takaaki as the most eligible bachelor, inspiring Lady Dimitrescu style interest for this tall scary man amongst the Hope's Peak parents is so bloody funny to me.
---
You know the Hagakures would find a way to force Takaaki and Taka out of the unhealthy work/study - sleep cycle they force upon themselves, and a post-school summer celebration is the perfect excuse to get the boys to relax for once.
It's probably Hiro's idea, but Hiroko is the one who organises it.
Hiro ends up with being sentenced with a community service order - he gets Taka-bro to help him with it.
He's comfortable with Hiroko pursuing relationships because he knows if he did notice any red flags with it, she would definitely hear him out.
(thank you!! :D)
If they did get together it's unlikely they'd get married on paper, mostly because Takaaki would refuse to put her in a situation where she could be saddled with Toranosuke's debt. They'd probably fall into a common-law marriage, and not knowing exactly when they became a couple, once a year they'd pick a random day to celebrate their ''anniversary''.
(edit: more takaaki asks - [here])
(next set of asks [here] mostly just text this time round tho)
(previous set of asks [about Taka’s eating habits])
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Tease
word count: 1,3k
warning: some mild nsfw
i might write part two of this if you’re interested in it! i wrote this in thirty minutes right before posting it so i’ll be honest i was a bit lazy to write everything, so just tell me if you’d be interested in a part two!
Aelin Ashryver Galathynius knew she was a tease. She had been told so her entire life, and she took great pride in it.
She loved to make jokes about her family, to laugh of her friends whenever she could, and to annoy the shit out of everyone around her when she was in a mood.
But, she wasn’t only that way with people she loved dearly but also with the ones she hated with a passion.
Not a lot of people could fit in that category since she never considered herself a very hateful person, only Rowan Whitethorn could. It wasn’t exactly her fault, she just couldn’t ignore him when he was in the same room as her, she had to pick on him. And he returned the courtesy so she didn’t really feel bad about it.
But after two years of knowing each other, something changed. Aelin didn’t know how their banters went from snarky remarks to angrily making out in closets, but she was willing to admit she didn’t mind.
Not that she had stopped teasing him, but it was funnier now. For the past two months, she couldn’t count how many times her hand had accidentally brushed the top of his thigh, how many times her skirt rode up around him and she just didn’t notice or how many times she had to wipe the side of her mouth as she maintained eye contact with him.
They had made out for hours and they had also sometimes crossed a line, but they were both in silent agreement to never speak about it even when it was only the two of them. So, whenever she could she’d tease him about how bad he kissed (which is the biggest lie that ever came out of her mouth) but she’d never brought up that time they had drunk and he made her scream of pleasure just with two fingers.
And he would tease her on the way she always pulled his hair too roughly, but he’d never spoke about that time she took him so deep in her mouth he came down her throat, chanting her name as he fucked her mouth.
Never had they crossed that final line and Aelin wasn’t sure they would. She didn’t know whether to feel revealed or disappointed. Normal people don’t make out with people they hate, so they’d definitely wouldn’t have sex with them. Maybe she wasn’t normal, she liked the sound of this.
Aelin was having so much fun tonight.
They were all out in a bar to celebrate Fenrys’s birthday and instead of being by her best friend’s side, drinking and partying, she was in a dirty bathroom, her legs around the man she hated’s waist, her hands in his hair, and her tongue playing with his. He was pressing her against the wall, both hands gripping her ass.
“What about ‘never doing this again’?” Aelin asked, pulling back to take back her breath but she didn’t catch a break, Rowan’s lips assaulting her neck. Every time they kissed, one of them promised it was the last time, even if they both knew it was a goddamn lie.
“Shut up,” he groaned, taking back her lips. She just giggled, trying her best not to break the kiss. She was annoying him, she knew it, it’s exactly why she was doing this.
Aelin didn’t know how they ended up here tonight, they had been fighting over what sport was better between football and baseball, and the next second, she heard him lock the door and she was kissing him roughly.
“I’m still right.”
He groaned, pressing his body closer to hers in hopes it would shut her up, but if he really believed this he didn’t know her at all. He went to unbutton her shirt, but she stopped him right there, shaking her head.
He looked at her, a brow arched and Aelin hated how beautiful he looked right now, his long hair in a mess because of her, his lips swollen and eyes darker than his usual shade of green. “Tell me I’m right, then you can take off my clothes.”
“No.”
Aelin smirked, taking her hands off his hair. “Hands off, then.” She smirked but Rowan didn’t let her go. “Come on, three little words. You are right.”
“I’m not going to lie.” He said, his hands massaging her butt. He really was shameless.
“But you’re going home with blue balls.” She winked and used all her strength to push him back, settling on her feet once again. She ignored the ache between her own legs and walked away from him, accentuating the sway of her hips because she knew it’s where he would look.
She sat back with her friends, ordering her second drink of the night as she laughed with Lysandra.
Five minutes later, Rowan sat at the same table, looking normal as if he hadn’t almost fucked someone in the bathroom. He ordered a new drink and spoke with Aedion who was sitting to his left, but not one single time did he look at her, which annoyed her.
She tried to attract his attention by laughing a little loudly, by interrupting his conversation with her cousin because she needed to ask Aedion something or because she was recalling a childhood memory, but nothing worked. Never once his gaze settled on her.
With a smirk on her face, Aelin pulled her phone out of her pocket and quickly found her message app. She took advantage of Lysandra wanting to dance with Fenrys to take the time to scroll into her picture to find what to send.
Happy with her choice, Aelin pressed the “send” button and put her phone on the table, her eyes focused on the silver-haired man at the other side of the table.
He opened his phone the moment he got the notification and she could see the moment he saw her text.
Rowan had just received a very explicit photo of hers truly, she was laying in bed, with lacy red lingerie on and one of her hands disappeared in her underwear, not letting what her fingers were doing to the imagination. She had been thinking of him when she took this, and had felt a little embarrassed about it when she came down from her high, but now she was glad she took the picture.
His knee, which had been shaking since he sat down, she didn't need to see it to know, he did it all the time, tapped the underside of the table, drawing everyone's attention.
His head snapped up toward her, his eyes hard. Aelin grinned like a fiend, proud of herself. She brought her glass to her lips but she before rose it toward him, mouthing “cheers”.
Her phone buzzed, showing a new message. Stop with this attitude before I fuck it out of you.
She bit her lip, fighting the blushing coming on her cheeks. When she looked up, Rowan seemed proud of him as if he knew what she was feeling right now. Maybe he did. They had never spoken about this so outrightly, this was dangerous territory.
Not sure you would be able to handle all of me.
His reply came in immediately. Willing to bet against it?
She was, but she didn’t want him to win her so easily even though she had fantasied about him fucking her for months now. You miss my mouth?
Yes. Oh, good gods help her. She didn’t dare to look up, feeling the weight of his gaze on her. Feeling the same about my fingers?
I don’t know. It wasn’t that memorable.
She looked up to see him frown and she internally smiled at it, finding the image funny. She looked quickly at her phone. Join me in my car in five minutes and allow me to refresh your memory.
Rowan didn’t wait for an answer before excusing himself for the night. She didn’t have to think about it twice, her mind was already made.
————
taglist: @sheharahu // @morganofthewildfire // @thestoriesyoutell // @fromthelibraryofemilyj // @swankii-art-teacher // @itsforeverinnocent-blog // @becarefuloflove // @imnotsogoodatthis // @rowaelinismyotp // @a-court-of-milkandhoney // @feysand-loml // @themoonthestarsthesuriel // @live-the-fangirl-life // @story-scribbler // @loves-books // @fangirlprincess09 // @theysayitscrazy // @hellasblessed // @danibutterr // @endlessdaydream // @thegreyj // @gracie-rosee
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closeted | jjk
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: Jeon Jungkook doesn't like you and you don't like him. Your friends and his friends decide enough is enough and they lock you in a closet together to settle your differences. Mhm.
warnings: language; implied slut-shaming; alcohol consumption; fuckboy?Jungkook x (technically noona) fuckgirl?reader, ft all other BTS members being... helpful? lol; enemies-to-lovers
–
“Jeon Jungkook? I don’t really have any thoughts about him. Isn’t he kind of a fuckboy?”
“Oh, her? Ah, there’s nothing to say really. Doesn’t she like to mess around?”
Those were your opinions about each other, which was now why both you and Jeon Jungkook were stuck in a closet in Kim Taehyung’s parents’ house.
“Taehyung, let us out right now!”
“Not until you two stop hating each other!” announced the booming, baritone voice of Kim Taehyung on the other side of the door, slightly tipsy and yelling over the loud music.
“We don’t hate each other,” came the silvery growl behind you. Jungkook shoved you slightly to the side so he could slam his fist against the heavy wood. You scowled, jerking away from his touch. “Stop being stupid and open the door.” His short ponytail at the back of his head swayed as he tried to shoulder the door, only for you to hear more bodies press against it.
“Nuh uh, Jungkookie,” Park Jimin snickered, sounding drunker than Taehyung even though the two of them had probably consumed the same amount. “Can’t muscle pig your way outta this one.”
Taehyung and Jimin burst into giggles on the other side of the door as Jungkook fumed next to you, long black bangs flaring as he clicked his tongue and rolled the sleeves of his black sweatshirt up, eyes narrowed, jaw tense.
You threw up your hands as Jungkook backed up and ran into the door with a loud thunk!
Nothing except Jimin, Taehyung, and squeaky laughter adding to the mix.
“We don’t even talk to each other,” you muttered as Jungkook shook his head vigorously and prepared to rear up again like a stubborn horse.
“And that’s the problem!” Kim Seokjin tittered in between bursts of laughter. “We’re all friends, except the two of you that like to pretend the other one is a fucking tree rather than an actual person.”
Jungkook collided with the door again and the single lightbulb hanging from the ceiling flickered ominously.
“Who cares?” Jungkook roared, throwing his head back and pushing his hair away from his face with two hands. You rolled your eyes as he smacked the closet door.
“We do,” said a fourth, trying to be the voice of slurred reason. “In order for our shared friend group to have harmony, we two should work out your differences in a civil, dignified manner and discuss the root of your negative relationship.” You made a face and glanced at Jungkook, who made a similar confused expression. How much did Kim Namjoon drink? He sounded like a drunk philosopher.
“Locked in a closet is not civil, Namjoon,” you pointed out.
“Yeah, but it’s funnier,” Jung Hoseok laughed cheerfully, knocking on the door. “You two good in there? Not ripping off each other’s heads yet?”
“We don’t hate each other,” Jungkook repeated, giving up on fighting the door now that five people were holding it down. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”
“What’s the reason then?”
“Huh?” you shouted through the door. Jungkook rolled his eyes at you and you rolled your eyes back.
“What is,” Taehyung repeated, slower this time, emphasizing each syllable. “The reason that you guys are so hostile towards each other?”
“Did he eat some snacks you hid one time?” Seokjin piped up. “Because that would piss me off too.”
“That already pisses you off, hyung,” Jimin cut in. “You always bring it up.”
“Because he does it all the time! No matter where I hide them!”
“Your hiding places a pretty bad, hyung.”
“Namjoon! You’re supposed to be on my side!”
“Eh?”
“The side of reason and being right!”
“Hah…”
Jungkook clicked his tongue again and shoved his hands into his loose cotton pants. They were black and white striped and looked more like pajamas than actual pants. He hadn’t even bothered to get dressed to hang out with his friends. What a weirdo. You sighed, looking away, staring at the wall instead. Why look at Jeon Jungkook? Everyone looked at Jeon Jungkook. You didn’t need to add to that ego.
“Hey.”
“What?”
“Why are you wearing hyung’s shirt?”
You glared at him from your periphery. He was leaning against the wall, hunched over, glaring back.
“First of all, this is my shirt,” you snapped. “Second of all, they’re all your hyungs. Be more specific. And third of all, Yoongi only borrowed it because he said he was cold and this was one of the few things that fit him.”
Jungkook shoved his tongue into his cheek, looking at your black-on-black long-sleeved shirt with a moon tarot card design. He narrowed his dark eyes, giving you a piercing stare. You ran a hand through your hair, cocking your head away from him haughtily.
“Yeah, but you knew which hyung I was talking about.”
“Because only one of them has borrowed this shirt, idiot.”
“That’s not very nice,” Hoseok chided from the other side of the door. “No name calling in there!”
“You’re not very nice,” you retorted at the door, suddenly remembering that they were out there listening. In fact, one of the loons had turned down the music so the five of them could hear the exchange better. Mature of them.
“Why don’t you two say something you like about the other?” Namjoon suggested. “Compliments might help lessen the tension.”
Your eyes shifted to Jungkook’s clenched jaw, a vein popping on his neck. Yeah, okay. He noticed you looking and you jerked your head away, staring at the wall again.
“This is stupid. Why do we have to do this?” you complained.
“You look pretty good from the back.”
You flinched, irritation rising. Did he just–?
“For an older lady, that is.”
A muscle in your eye twitched. “Yeah, well, every guy says I look good from the rear view.”
“That’s not a compliment, Jungkook,” a deep, raspy voice from the bottom of the door.
Jungkook lifted himself off the wall, making a noise of surprise. “Yoongi-hyung? How long have you been there?”
“The whole time,” Jimin giggled. “He’s been pretending to be asleep.”
“I can’t sleep anyway,” Min Yoongi grumbled. “You guys are loud as fuck.”
“Nah, you just wanted to listen to the shitshow of these two,” Taehyung teased. There was the sound of a hand smacking of a shoulder and a disgruntled grunt at the bottom of the door.
Seokjin called your name loudly. “Yah! You haven’t said anything, backhanded or not!”
You grimaced and glanced at Jungkook again. He still looked surprised and, for a single second, you thought he looked pretty cute with his big round dark brown eyes and parted pink lips in an ‘o’. For a single second, he didn’t seem like that ‘hot guy’ that literally everyone, not just women, but men too, everyone was head-over-heels in love with, Jeon Jungkook, ‘hot guy’ with tattoos and a handsome face.
Blech.
You shifted your eyes away and stared at the corner. “I guess you might not have only one brain cell. Maybe you have two or three.”
“Ooh, nice, that’s a great one,” Jimin agreed behind the door. “Three is being generous, noona, well done.”
“Shut up, Jimin-ssi.”
Ugh, this shit was so dumb. And what kind of closet was this anyway? It was full of coats. A lot of them were more neutral colors, but there was the occasional muted jewel tone. Why did Taehyung’s family need this many coats and why was this closet on the upper floor? Some of them were neatly tucked in clear plastic covers. Oh. Probably to prevent them from getting moth holes, huh.
“Why do you hate me, anyway?” Jungkook muttered. “I’ve never done anything to you.”
“I don’t hate you. I just don’t like you,” you huffed.
“Why not? What did I do?” he sighed, reaching over and placing his hand on your shoulder.
You whipped your head around, narrowing your eyes. “Don’t touch me.”
He removed his hand, backing up with his hands in the air. “Whoa, okay, jeez. It’s just kind of hard to talk to you when your back is to me.”
“Hmph, why? Precious Jungkookie wants attention? Wants everyone to dote over him and love him?” you mocked in disgust, crossing your arms.
He twisted his lips. “… distracting, that’s all,” he mumbled.
“Hah?” You leaned forward, raising an eyebrow. “You forget how to talk?”
Jungkook looked away from you, frowning. “Sometimes, yeah. You’re kind of pretty.”
You blinked at him. What? You didn’t expect him to say that.
“In some lights, anyway.” He pointed up. “This one is pretty dim, like you.”
That was more like it. “Takes one to know one.”
His eyes shifted back to you. “What? A pretty person to spot pretty?”
You growled and scoffed, rolling your eyes. “See, this is why I can’t talk to you. You’re so full of yourself. All you ever do is think about is showing off how much better you are. How cool you are.”
“That’s because that’s all they ever talk about.”
You paused at his downcast tone. Your eyes drifted from the wall to his face. Jungkook wasn’t looking at you. His eyes were on the ground and he was rubbing the back of his head, frowning.
“I envy the way others talk about me. They always have such a perfect image pictured.” He inhaled deeply, slumping against the wall again. “It’s hard to live up to the picture everyone has of me in their head. Sometimes I don’t even want to try anymore so they give up and leave me alone.”
What?
His dark eyes shifted to you, half-shrouded by his long dark hair, tan skin glowing even in this dim closet light.
“I envy you,” he snapped, irritated edge to his voice. “I know you hear all that crazy shit they say about you, but you do whatever you want anyway. People call you a slut and you just invite all the hyungs over to your place and watch movies all night. People say you dress weird and you show up in big fur coats and wacky t-shirts and knee-high boots. People say you don’t know what you’re doing, but you can calculate your change faster than the cashier with the fucking computer.”
You gawked at him; jaw slightly slack. It took you a second to collect yourself. “It’s… not that hard. It’s basic math.”
“Hmph, yeah, well, I suck at math,” Jungkook muttered. “I’m not smart like Namjoon-hyung.”
“You’re good at a lot of things, Jungkook.”
“Like what?” he accused, putting you on the spot.
“Uh… you can draw. Namjoon draws like a five-year-old.”
Jungkook snorted. “Taehyung can draw.”
You raised an eyebrow. Honorifics, where? “Not realistically like you can. It’s a different style. Weirder.”
“I’m not weird,” Taehyung said through the door, voice half-muffled.
“Yeah, you are,” Jungkook replied without looking away from you.
“You’re kind of like an alien. In a good way,” Jimin added hastily.
“You’re kind of like an idiot,” Taehyung shot back.
Slapping sounds ensued outside the door.
Jungkook scratched his head, messing up his black hair. “I’m just saying I wish I was a little more like you sometimes.” He coughed. “Only sometimes.”
You ran a hand through your hair. “Well, I kind of wish I was like you sometimes,” you admitted, looking away from him. “I wish people would say nice things about me like they do for you. I wish people would praise me without reason. I wish people would fall in love with me like how they fall in love with you, without even knowing you.” You scoffed bitterly, flicking a hand carelessly. “Instead, they just play pretend and mess with my feelings because they think I’m easy.”
You left out a heavy sigh, weight off your chest. You hadn’t meant to say all that, but oh well. It was out there now.
So dumb.
“Then, when they find out I’m not, it’s my fault for some stupid reason. Like it’s my fault you painted this fake picture of me in your head.”
You felt something touch your outstretched hand. You jumped, seeing Jungkook’s right hand touching your fingertips, hand ink standing out against his flexed fingers. You almost pulled back. Almost. Then you caught the look in his eyes and stopped, mesmerized by the seriousness in his dark brown orbs.
“I meant it when I said you were pretty,” he whispered, barely audible.
Your eyes widened.
Your pulse raced through your veins.
“You… you said only in some lights,” you whispered back.
Jungkook lifted himself off the wall. One step. Two steps, towards you. You could have backed up. You could have slapped his hand away and yelled at Taehyung some more to let you out. Men were stupid. They ain’t shit. They play with your feelings and only want to use you. Dudes are just fuckboys.
Except Jungkook confirmed he wasn’t, just now.
And you confirmed you weren’t the female equivalent of a fuckboy – a fuckgirl?
For some reason, that made this different now.
This moment.
Jungkook looked down at you, tilting his head, brown eyes curious. You spread your fingers a little more and laced them with his, pressing your fingertips against the back of his hand as he pressed his against yours. You tilted your head the other way as he leaned down.
“I said you’re pretty in some lights,” he breathed. “You’re beautiful in all of them.”
He stopped just above your lips.
Pausing.
You lifted yourself up to close the gap, holding his hand tightly.
Mouth to mouth, resuscitating something that was almost dead because of misunderstandings and surface judgements, whispers and rumors clouding the truth, because everybody talks, everybody talks, everybody talks… too much.
For some reason, you expected Jungkook to smell musky or woodsy, something manly, but, in actuality, his cologne was light and sweet, barely there, like a fresh summer’s breeze. It was you that smelled more intense, your coffee and cream perfume mixing with his fruity scent, dominating a little, just like how you pressed harder into his soft lips, capturing them, surprised that was pleasant, almost sweet but with a hint of spice, the tip of his tongue teasingly brushing against your lips, and you drew back, narrowing your eyes at him.
He smiled a little, squeezing your hand lightly.
“That was nicer than I thought,” he murmured.
“You’re not that bad yourself,” you muttered, frowning a little at the heat rising in your cheeks.
“You guys still alive in there?” Yoongi asked gruffly from the ground, his voice drifting under the door.
“Did they kill each other? Should we open the door?” Seokjin wondered.
The doorknob began to turn.
Jungkook started and reached for the door.
You jumped and reached for the door.
A thin crack of light appeared.
Your hands intertwined, grabbing the doorknob and yanking it closed before it could fully open, both swiftly locking the door together with a firm click. The doorknob shook, confused noises on the other side of the wood.
Jungkook stared at you, brown eyes wide. “I… I just… thought we were getting somewhere,” he whispered under his breath.
You scratched your cheek with your free hand. “Yeah… we were getting somewhere... with this.”
The doorknob rattled violently.
“Excuse me, you two?” Taehyung shouted through the door. “Why the fuck is the door locked?”
“Uh…” you started.
“It’s jammed,” Jungkook shouted back.
“Nope, it’s definitely locked. I heard it,” Yoongi said from the floor.
“That bastard,” Jungkook hissed quietly, stepping closer to you.
“Why is it locked?” Jimin accused, sounding peeved. “Hmm? You two doing some naughty stuff?”
“Scandalous,” Seokjin and Hoseok gasped in unison.
Jungkook glanced at you and you shrugged, mouthing, maybe? He mouthed back, I thought you weren’t easy. You chuckled, speaking softly to his chin.
“We already spent all that time being hostile to each other.”
“So, you admit to the hostility.”
“Sure, if it helps your delicate baby brain sleep at night.”
His free arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you to his chest, kissing you again, holding your hand tightly, muttering against your lips, you’re kind of annoying, and you muttering back, you’re actually annoying, and him smiling between gentle kisses.
“I have to find the key, fuck, what the hell are they doing in there?”
“Are you sure you wanna know Taehyung?” Yoongi yawned from the ground. “What if you open the door and you’re scarred for life?”
“They were supposed to find common ground, not get handsy!” Taehyung shouted back, bounding away with Jimin’s disapproving sigh following. In the closet, Jungkook let go of your hand, kneading your waist as you wrapped your arms around him, both of your hands on his broad back, moaning softly into his lips as he sighed into yours, the kisses more audible now, hands exploring as Yoongi sat outside the door, clicking his tongue knowingly.
“You’re handsome, huh,” you breathed against his kisses.
“In some lights?” he teased.
You laughed, slipping your hands under his black sweatshirt, running your fingertips on his skin, making him gasp into your kisses.
“Yeah, in some lights.”
Outside the closet, Yoongi and Namjoon sat side by side, Seokjin and Hoseok long gone from secondhand embarrassment. The sounds from the closet were escalating, clothes rustling a little too much for two people who supposedly hated each other. But, as Yoongi and Namjoon discussed calmly, there were plenty of signs that indicated that those weren’t their true feelings.
“If you think about it, they’re a good fit,” Namjoon chuckled, amused as he heard Jungkook yelp. “This whole stuck in the closet thing was more fruitful than I thought.”
Yoongi laughed, raspy and full.
“Why do you think I suggested it?”
--
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Bittersweet Temptations
CHAPTER 2
[special dt @bluewingedangel <3]
Your neighbors, Nathan and Elena, have been friends with your parents for years. Whether it’d be family gatherings or vacations, they were around; they were family. But when you return home from your final years of college, what will happen when you find that it isn't just them living in the house next door anymore?
_____________________________________
The afternoon sun brought in a relaxing mixture of natural light from the windows, but I wasn’t even remotely focused on it.
My right leg was bouncing hastily under the kitchen table while I prodded my salad with a fork. I tossed a particularly small carrot around in the bowl, swirling it around the sea of other vegetables.
“Are you gonna eat that or play around with it sweetie?” The sound of my mothers voice raced right through one ear and out the other one.
I only sighed in response, and leaned the side of my head on my hand, not bothering to look up at either of my parents that sat across from me.
They urged me to consistently have family meals with them today, in an attempt to dine on the experiences I had away at college. If they’d asked me to do this at any other time, I wouldn’t mind.
But my head was clouded by something else; or should I say by someone else.
Last night refused to escape my line of thinking. Even after it all went down, I went back to bed to try and fall back asleep, but it was absolutely no use.
The cunning quirk of his lips as he smirked back at me was an image that glued itself to the front of my brain. I reeled around in bed until sunrise, unable to silence my thoughts regardless of any persistence. So as of now, I was beyond exhausted.
“y/n? Are you alright?”
I jump faintly in my chair, with my fathers words pulling me away from my cogitation of the man from the pool, “I’m um.. I’m fine, sorry.”
I gave them a toothless smile as reassurance, but by the exchange of looks they both gave each other, they didn’t seem too convinced.
I shifted uncomfortably, and stabbed the carrot I was messing with. I slowly bring it towards my mouth, finally having the compulsion to take a bite.
Until the man’s wink decided to project in front of me, as if I was experiencing the whole ordeal all over again.
I abruptly dropped the fork into the bowl, resulting in a reverberating clash that not only startled my parents, but it startled me back into reality again.
“Jesus y/n, what’s gotten into you?”
I’m asking that same question, mom.
“Nothing, I uh- think I’m just tired,” the excuse flew out of my mouth in a panic, “I’m just.. I’m gonna go shower for the party later.”
I hurriedly sprung from my seat, and scurried up the stairs to the bathroom.
“Well that was smooth, dumbass,” I muttered out in the open, while slamming the door behind me.
That son of a bitch is driving me crazy, and I haven’t even had a single conversation with him.
I take a few steps into the bathroom, placing both of my hands on opposite sides of the sink, leaning over with my body weight. With my head bowed down to the direction of my feet, I suspired deeply.
This was stupid. The brief interaction was embarrassing, yes, but with how I reacted today during lunch, especially when the party was happening later on today..
I just needed to stop thinking about what happened last night.
Act like it didn’t happen.
It didn’t happen.
____________
Turmoil carried on in the form of muffled conversations, and distinct bass from the speakers on the lower levels of the house. Even being upstairs in my room, the walls weren’t thick enough to block the noise that derived from the party.
Of course, my dad’s annual excuse backfired, and instead of the party being fairly small, it was as big as the rest of the parties we've had in the past. Although I really shouldn’t be surprised, knowing this really has carried on for 10 years at most.
As of now, I could only assume that the booze was already out for everyone, and by the end of the night, I could guarantee that almost half the people here will be drunk. It reassured me though, especially when I’ll probably end up being one of those people.
I could use a little alcohol in my system; to let myself go a little bit.
While fixing the straps of my white sundress, I looked at myself in the mirror, making sure any scraps of exhaustion were not visible on my features. Despite longing for a few hours of rest, I knew for a fact that I wasn’t going to get much yet again.
With satisfaction, I back away from my vanity, and start for the door that barricaded me from the chaos.
The exchanges of laughter became much more pronounced as I slowly opened the door, and traveled down the hall. My feet carried me towards the stairs, shaking from the rumble of the speakers seeping through the walls and floors.
It was a blessing that the noise didn’t affect our neighbors enough for them to make complaints; but that was mostly because they were all here.
With each step down the flight, more of the party overtook my vision. Guests were dispersed amongst every room as far as I could see, gathering around each other in hopes of starting conversation over the music. It had been fairly crowded to say the least.
Immediately after I make it to the ground floor, I’m bombarded by my mother.
“Hey honey, Nathan and Elena are outside if you want to say hello to them!” her slightly raising her voice didn't really help much, with us being right next to the speakers. But I nodded letting her know I understood.
Turning away from her, I then faced the crowd of people in front of me. I start to weave my way through, making slight pauses along the way to thank them for coming. Most of the people around me had a slight stench of beer already, making me scrunch my nose; that smell is definitely going to linger afterwards.
Eventually making it to the door, I slide it open and step out, letting the freshness of the outside air fill my senses. I quickly noticed the difference between the outdoors and the impeded aura from inside the house. It felt like I was finally able to breathe.
After shutting the sliding door behind me, I strolled away towards the yard.
I made sure to make a slight detour to the cooler to grab myself a beer though, rashly cracking it open as soon as I got my hands on one. I take a swig while observing the guests around me.
As soon as I saw a familiar head of blonde hair a few yards away, I could feel myself smile widely. I hadn’t seen Nate or Elena in four years, and being back home now is making me realize how much I missed them.
The both of them had moved into the neighborhood about a year after my family, and that was over 15 years ago. Ever since then, they hit it off more than you could imagine.
They had all gotten so close to one another, that they’d have annual dinners together, game nights and tag along on all of our family trips. They would even bring in their ideal vacation spots up to us, which evolved into us traveling to entirely different countries most of the time.
While Elena and my mom went to any beach they could find, and my dad found the bar, Nathan really wanted to drag me along to the historical landmarks and teach me about everything he knew. It made our relationship blossom, and now I considered him my second father.
Plus, because of him I began to develop an endless love for history.
I liked it so much that I made the decision to go to college for it. Nathan’s reaction when I told him before I left was something for the cover of a photo album, and I just knew already that a million questions were going to arise when I got to them.
I stepped down from the deck, and walked towards them with my lips still curled in a smile.
As I made it closer to them though, my gaze became hazy. With my brows contorting, my confused demeanor became more visible with every footstep I made closer to Nate and Elena.
There was another man wrapped into their conversation. He was taller than the other two, especially Elena. I noticed his hair slicked back ruggedly, from above the others’ heads. Though, I still couldn’t get a proper look at his face yet.
I turned my direction slightly to discreetly see who my neighbors were conversing with. My curious nature was overriding my body.
I should have just listened to that universally cliche phrase.
Curiosity did kill the fucking cat, and I wish it would just kill me now.
From here, I had a clear view of his face. He stood there listening to Nate’s banter, with a cigarette wedged between his lips.
The lips I had been staring at the night before, along with the rest of him.
Shit shit shit shit shit.
By this point I would’ve been repeating my annual habit of staring in place. But fortunately, I turned on my heal sharply to try and escape.
“Oh my god y/n?” My breath hitched while Elena's voice rang out towards me.
Well great.
I held that particular breath in as I turned my body once more to face her. My warm smile returned to my face, but a layer of embarrassment and panic riddled beneath the surface.
“Elena, it’s so good to see you,” I went over and wrapped my arms around her carefully, keeping her baby bump in mind, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“I’ve missed you too,” she returned the hug, leaning close to my ear, mumbling, “especially when I’ve had to deal with him all alone. I swear sometimes I really question whether the pregnancy hormones are hitting me or him harder.”
I look over at Nate for a quick second, stifling a laugh while I let go of Elena. The two of us continued laughing faintly, certainly gaining the attention of Nate.
“What are you two laughing about? What’d I do this time?” Nate looked genuinely perplexed, which made it funnier.
“Oh nothing, Nate,” Elena and I looked at each other, smirking as she spoke.
Even with Elena and I’s pleasant interaction, that uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach just wouldn’t quit. I just knew he was watching my every move.
Especially, when in the corner of my eye, I watched his travel with me as I went to give Nate his hug.
“It’s good to have you back, Crash.”
Hearing the nickname took me away from my thoughts on the man behind me for a moment, and made my smile lift.
“It’s been too long, Aku.”
We stayed this way for a few more seconds, until I feel him pat my back. I let my arms fall away from him, and return to my spot in front of them.
I then feel my head slowly turn over to the unknown one of the three; well to me he was unknown.
“So who’s this?” I cross my arms in front of me, anticipating an answer from one of them.
But silence continued to radiate around us.
They all stood there, exchanging looks with one another, making me raise one of my brows. While awaiting a response I decided to take a long sip of my beer, feeling the cold liquid slide down my throat.
That is, before Nate finally spoke up, “Y/n, this is Sam,” he paused, and I could see the hesitation written all over him, “Sam Drake.”
I almost choked on my beer as soon as I heard the last name. I thought for a solid minute that my eyes were going to fall out of their sockets.
“Is this your-” I pointed between the both of them.
“He’s my older brother.” Nate finishes my sentence, as he scratched at the back of his neck.
My face fell even more if it was even possible.
Wait.
Nate was in his early forties to begin with, so that would make Sam…
I looked at Sam’s face intensely again, specifically at the wrinkles that were tainted across his face. Now that my brain was functioning properly, unlike last night, I noticed how many there really were.
Great. Not only was I checking out Nathan’s BROTHER, but the man that was more than twice my age.
Fuck.
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post reveal halloween dilemma
set in the future where adrien and marinette are living together idk i havent thought of the full logistics i just wanted to write this
‘I can’t believe this is the second time this has happened,’
Marinette stared at the red and black spotted costume lying on her bed. Beside her, Adrien was busy scrutinizing his own.
‘The bell is way too big, it’s unrealistic! How could I possibly save Paris every day with a thing the size of a basketball around my neck? It’s so impractical, it’s like they’ve never even seen me before,’
‘May I remind you that it’s your fault we have to dress as OURSELVES for Halloween in the first place?’ Marinette hissed.
It was true. They were meeting up with Alya and Nino for coffee and talking about their costumes for the Halloween party Chloe was throwing at her father’s hotel. Everyone, it seemed, was doing couple’s costumes. Alya and Nino were going as Shrek and Fiona, Rose and Juleka were going as salt and pepper, even Max and Alix paired up to go as Ash and Pikachu.
‘What are you two dressing up as?’ Alya asked Adrien and Marinette, who were in the middle of exchanging panicked looks, desperately trying to come up with a costume idea.
‘We- uh- don’t know yet,’
‘Dudes! You should totally go as Ladybug and Cat Noir,’ Nino piped up. Alya agreed enthusiastically, while Adrien and Marinette froze.
‘I don’t think that’s such a good id-’
‘Great idea!’
If looks could kill, Adrien would have lost all his nine lives at once. Marinette shot him a steely glare that didn’t go unnoticed by their friends, who looked at them questioningly.
‘Yeah! Er- great idea!’ she said hastily, ‘but isn’t that a bit boring? I’m sure there’ll be loads of people dressing up as them,’
‘I doubt it, everyone’s been going as them for the last few years.’ Alya shrugged.
Marinette sighed. ‘Perfect!’
Back in Marinette’s bedroom, the pair of them were staring at each other, wearing the copies of the costumes they donned practically every day.
‘You’re the spitting image of Ladybug, you know that?’ Adrien grinned.
‘Well you’re not nearly as handsome as Chat Noir,’ Marinette replied cheekily.
From the corner, there were retching noises as Plagg stared at them in disgust.
‘You two are obnoxious, you know that?’ he said, finishing off a huge slice of Camembert.
‘Nothing is more obnoxious than the smell of that cheese,’ Tikki piped up from behind Marinette’s mirror. ‘When Adrien had to feed it to me the time you both swapped your miraculous- it was awful,’
At this, thoughts began forming in Marinette’s head. She looked at Adrien and could see the same thoughts in his own.
‘Are you thinking what I’m thinking?’
‘Always, m’lady,’
They got out of Adrien’s limousine outside the Grand Paris hotel. The place was swarming with people. Alya was right, there were very few people dressed as Ladybug and Chat Noir. The novelty of having two teen superheroes saving Paris wore off after a few years, apparently.
Marinette and Adrien stepped through the ornate doors and looked around, trying to spot their friends amongst the sea of people. Marinette caught a glimpse of green skin and yanked her boyfriend’s arm, pulling him in the direction of who she hoped were Alya and Nino.
‘Isn’t Ladybug supposed to be in charge?’ Adrien huffed as she nearly made him bump into a waiter carrying a plate of hors d’oeuvres. Marinette grinned at him. ‘She is,’
They collapsed in a heaving pile beside a table of desserts, where Alya and Nino were looking down at them in amusement.
‘You two could never pass as the real Ladybug and Chat,’ Alya laughed as she helped them up, ‘neither of you can’t stay on two feet for long enough,’
‘You’re right, I’m much better looking than the real Ladybug,’ Adrien said, flicking his hair. ‘And I’m much funnier than the real Chat Noir,’ Marinette giggled, dusting herself off.
‘Can you believe Chloe put this whole thing together?’ Alya whispered, ‘she really does have a flair for partying,’
The party became even louder, which they didn’t think was possible, when Jagged Stone turned up and started playing some songs from his latest album, which Marinette had designed yet another cover for.
The crowd became more and more packed and Marinette gripped Adrien’s hand as he lead her to a secluded corner, trying to stay on two feet as she was pushed every which way. He looked down at her hand.
‘You know, you’re missing a very vital piece of the Chat Noir ensemble,’ he murmured to her as they pushed past a particularly round man who seemed intent on not moving.
‘What’s that, over-confidence and a terrible sense of humour?’ she smiled as he lead her into an empty hallway.
‘No,’ he said, his tone more serious, ‘the ring,’
Marinette turned to see her boyfriend staring up at her, down on one knee with a dainty silver copy of his own Miraculous tucked into a satin box in his hand.
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