#why did i only just see this THIRTEEN HOURS LATER

[be-bi-do-crime]

hey. hey HEY. hey. HEY WHAT THE FUCK. HEY

#why did i only just see this THIRTEEN HOURS LATER #HELLO? HI #FOR THE LOVE OF GOD HELLO #ARE YOU ABSOLUTELY KIDDING ME. #@ IQIYI IM NO LONGER ASKING POLITELY. DROP THE OTHER DELETED AND UNRELEASED SCENES AND PICS? #love between fairy and devil #im biting DRYWALL

[celaenaeiln]

Jake and Mari meeting Damian for the first time

Jake: *watching Dick struggling to piggyback a 260+ lb man* Dad who is HE?!

Mari: Why're you carrying a man twice your size?!

Dick: *Wheezing but refusing to let go of his hold on Damian's legs* He's...he's my son...s-say "Hi, Damian."

Jake: I'm your son!

Mari: Jake's your son!

Dick: *gasping* Yes...but Damian's my first born."

Jake & Mari: *turning to look at Damian*

Damian: *looking back at them then turning his nose up and smirking*

Jake & Mari: *instantly activating their powers* This means war.

Dick: *jerking his head up* Wait-what?

--

Jake and Mari complaining to their Uncle Tim about Damian

Jake: You won't believe what he did! He hit me on the head with dad's eskrima!

Mari: He also punched me!

Tim: *snorting* Let me guess, he also stuck his tongue out at you two while Dad-DICK-wasn't looking?

Jake: Yeah! And then dad scolded all of us but when he was scolding me and Mari, Damian took dad's eskrima, put into his pocket-

Jake & Tim: *finishing together* -and mouthed "Mine."

Jake: Uncle Tim, you get it!!

Mari: *narrowing her eyes* speaking from experience?

Tim: *scowling at her*

Tim: .......hmm.

--

Tim and Jason forced to team up for a family mission

Tim: ...So I heard something interesting today.

Jason: Can we just shut up and work in silence so I can go home and eat and clean my guns in peace?

Tim: Jake and Mari told me they fought with Damian.

Jason: What? HAHAHAHAHAHAHA!! It must've been over Dick! It's the only thing that matters to that demon brat.

Tim: *smirking* yup. Remember when we fought over Dick?

Jason: Heh. I beat your ass. Good times, good times. I mean-what were we even fighting over, huh?

Tim: Liar, I totally won. And I know right? It's completely obvious-

Jason: Without a doubt-

Jason & Tim: *finishing confidently* I was Dick's favorite.

A ringing silence echoing in the batcave after that statement.

Tim: *smirk dropping* Did the pit wipe whatever brain you had managed to scrape by with? Dick obviously loved me more. He taught me how to analyze people, how to do laundry, and he even cooked for me! Me! He never cooks for anyone.

Jason: *sneering* And here I thought you were a detective but it turns out you were a "dumb-tective" instead. Has he ever gone skiing with you? Has he ever come up with a code-nickname for you like he did with "little wing" for me? Has he ever protected you from seeing seeing stuff cause he thought it wouldn't be appropriate?? Has he ever done that for you?

Tim: hE CALLS ME ALL THE TIME-HE LOVES ME MORE!!!

Jason: HE OPENS UP TO ME! IM THE ONE HE LOVES!

Tim: *screeching and lunging* I'LL BE SURE TO KNOCK YOUR BRAINS INTO PLACE!!

Jason: *grappling with him* AND I'LL MAKE SURE TO PUT YOURS BACK IN YOUR HEAD!!

*one hour later*

Jason & Tim: *Bloody, silent, and seething*

Tim: .....hey.

Jason: *gritting his teeth* what.

Tim: Did you and Bruce ever fight over who Dick loves more?

Jason: *mind exploding with memories of the two of them using sly, underhanded tricks to have Dick's attention for themself and sometimes even coming to blows over it* no. And I'm not the one who fought with a ten year old.

Tim: But you did.

Jason: You were thirteen.

Tim: No, I mean you and Damian fought.

Jason:

Tim: It's okay. I used to have a cold war with Bruce.

Jason: With Bruce? Why?

Tim: Because Bruce didn't want me but Dick did and Bruce is a possessive asshole who loves Dick but doesn't like sharing.

Jason: Damn. Yeah, that actually explains a lot. I'm still the favorite though.

Tim: *cracking his neck* You wanna go again?

Dick: *entering* Hey guys-woah, what's with the tension?

Jason: *Sidling up next to Dick and wrapping an arm around his shoulder* Nothin' Dickie. Heard your kiddies got into a fight.

Dick: *sighing* You heard already? It was a disaster. I'll tell you about it later. How're you doing, Tim? Everything okay, buddy?

Tim: *walking forward and grabbing Dick's hand* *furtively catching Jason's eye* Good Dick! I'm really glad you're back.

Dick: *immediately ruffling his hair and then Jason's* Awww! You're the sweetest. Both of you. I'm going to make sure the Bruce doesn't burn the kitchen down thinking he can suddenly cook in his old age.

Jason & Tim: *Turning to each other after Dick leaves* This means war.

Canon based

Dick is Tim's idol

Dick is Jason's idol

Dick teaching Tim panels I already posted before but here's him teaching Tim to fold laundry.

Dick protecting Jason's eyes from unsavory sights

Dick calling Jason Little Wing

Dick took Jason skiing when he was robin

Bruce being manipulative about wanting Dick back (another addition)

Jason is just like Bruce

And for fun XD

#it's back! #sorry I had 12 am impulse and 7 am rethoughts #love you guys #dick grayson #nightwing #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #jason todd #red hood #jake grayson #mari grayson #bruce wayne #batman #batfam incorrect quotes

[hwangyu]

airplane fun time!

you're feeling needy on the airplane

pairing; dom!beomgyu x afab reader

warnings; dom beom, kind of mean? sub reader, afab but no female pronouns (please lmk if i accidentally wrote any</3) reader likes the thought of others watching her and beom teases them about it, degradation, beom calls reader whore x2, semi public sex, the other boys are mentioned to be in the same space multiple times, …poorly written smut, perhaps a little bland? lmk if i forgot anything :( not proofread. 18+, minors and ageless/blank blogs, dni

wc; 1.3k

You figured the first class flight you were lucky enough to take with your boyfriend was going to be nice and relaxing. Which it was…sort of, you didn't entirely foresee being horny for the entire thing.

Okay, maybe not the entire thing, if that were the case, you may actually die. But it's only been three hours in a thirteen hour flight and all you've done is hide the way you're rubbing your knees together with a white, fluffy blanket whilst staring ahead of you and daydreaming about how you wish your boyfriend, who was sat right next to you, would touch you.

It wouldn't be so bad. If you were alone. You can't exactly start begging your boyfriend to fuck you while his friends are all in the same room, however. Regardless of if they're distracted by a movie or sleeping.

God, why did Beomgyu have to be a good, considerate boyfriend at this exact moment in time, is what you thought when you felt his hand on your blanket covered knee—snapping you out of your wet daydream to look at the man who was looking at you with slight worry in his precious eyes.

"Are you okay, baby?" Beomgyu asked you softly, "You can rest if you're tired." he added and the way he was looking at you almost had you feeling guilty about all of the things you were just thinking about him.

You swallowed, offering a small smile and placing your hand on top of his, running your thumb over his knuckles to reassure him because you were about to lie straight through your teeth. "N-No, I'm okay. Thank you, sweetheart."

Despite your 'almost guilty' feelings, your thoughts about Beomgyu pulling you into his lap and fucking you right there in the airplane seat snuck their way back to the front of your mind and looking at him seemed to be making it worse. Obviously.

He smiled back at you but he clearly wasn't convinced. You were stupid to think that of all people, your boyfriend wouldn't notice that you weren't entirely paying attention. It's embarrassing but Beomgyu always seems to have a hunch about how you're feeling from your body language or facial expressions. You were kind of giving him the win on this one, though, considering your half-lidded eyes.

His smile turned into a smirk and his grip on your knee tightened. "It's not nice to lie to your boyfriend."

Your mouth fell ajar and you blinked—for a second, you thought about insisting that you weren't, that you really were fine, but with a second of extra thought…you decided not to. You chose to be honest.

"It's— it's just…embarrassing."

"No need to be embarrassed, pretty." Beomgyu grinned. "You know I always love making you feel good." He tilted his head and whispered, "Tell me, baby, you want me to touch you?"

Your grip on his hand tightened before it loosened and you relaxed in the seat. "Y-Yes, but— what about, you know," You frowned, "The boys?"

He blinked, like he had forgotten himself that you two weren't alone. Either that or he didn't care and you were suspecting it was the later as he tore his eyes from you to check what the others were doing, and seeing they were still all distracted, he looked back to you.

"Guess you'll just have to be quiet then, huh?"

It wasn't a question, that much you knew. You licked your lips and nodded slowly, unsure how quiet you'll really be able to stay but you're far too worked up not to risk it right now. You squirm in your seat as Beomgyu shoves his hand underneath the white blanket that was covering your legs and into your pants.

Pressing his fingers against your panties, he chuckled feeling how wet you were. You huffed, embarrassed, and Beomgyu couldn't help but tease you further, you were just too cute.

"All this just from thinking about me, huh?" He kept his voice low. "I wonder what you were thinkin' about that got you like this…bet it was a lot of things, was it?"

His questions were rhetorically, thankfully, you knew because he didn't push you for an answer and he slid your panties to the side—running his middle finger up your slit, coating it in your juices before he pushed into your hole and watched you sigh in relief.

"That's right, baby, just relax." He whispered, pumping his finger in and out of your cunt slowly and seeing the way you were already trying to keep quiet had his ego soaring. "M-More, Gyu, please." You begged, voice shaky.

Beomgyu hummed, turning his head away from you and for a moment, you panicked, thinking that he wasn't going to give you what you want or worse, just stop touching you entirely.

Thankfully, this was proven wrong as you felt him push another finger inside of you. You bit hard at your lip to stifle the moan that had desperately wanted to escape from your throat, you grabbed the armrest of your seat to dig your nails into in hopes that it'd help you hold back your sounds.

But that soon proved itself to be hard as Beomgyu curled his fingers inside of you. Fuck, did you love his hands—they felt perfect. They always did and it was starting to make you forget that you two weren't entirely alone.

He continued to fuck his fingers into you and you prayed that no one could hear the quiet squelching sound that was coming from underneath your blanket or maybe you didn't really care anymore, you weren't sure as a small moan made it past your lips which had Beomgyu looking back at you again.

"I told you to stay quiet, baby. Unless you want all of the boys thinking that you're slut? I have no problem fucking you out here, right in front of them." He teased and your cheeks burned red while you shook your head. "No, no! Please, s-sorry, 'm sorry." You quietly apologized but the way you began to clench around his fingers was giving away the fact that you weren't as against that idea as you were trying to make it seem.

"Are you sure you don't?" Beomgyu smirked, "I told you it's not nice to lie to your boyfriend. You really want me to bend you over, let all of them how much of a whore you are for me? Let them see how well I fuck your pretty cunt?"

You let out a small whine, sliding your hand underneath the white blanket to start circles around your clit. It was embarrassing that his words were pushing you over the edge, but you didn't have the time to let yourself think about it, too focused on the feeling of your high being so close.

"Gyu," You breathed out. "Please, please, fuck. 'M gonna cum." You squeaked, and he chuckled. "How cute, gonna cum at the thought of the others knowing how much of a whore you are. Just proves my point, don't you think?"

Squeezing your eyes shut, you brought your hand up to your mouth to bite at your thumb in an attempt to quiet yourself as you arched your back off the seat and came all over his fingers. "That's it, let it out." Beomgyu cooed, the pace of his fingers slowing down.

You took a deep breath and you opened your eyes again to look at him, feeling a little tired from your orgasm—letting your hand fall back down onto the armrest, Beomgyu smiled softly at you as he pulled his fingers out of you and brought them to his mouth, licking his fingers clean.

The sight made you gulp and suddenly, you weren't tired anymore. You opened your mouth to speak, but Beomgyu had beat you to it, leaning in to whisper into your ear.

"Bathroom. Now."

a/n; ive never been on a plane before let alone mfkn first class so im sorry ...i started writing this like a week ago but didnt finish it until now so im also sorry if its super stinky 😭😭 those airport pics got me fucked up tho ... also if the formatting gets fucked up i will cry real tears. PART 2 IF IM FEELING SNAZZYY

#choi beomgyu x reader #txt x reader #txt hard hours #txt hard thoughts #beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu smut #choi beomgyu scenario #beomgyu x reader #txt smut

[2nd2ndalto]

I have a headcanon that all the demigod kids routinely end up in each others beds/cabins at night, because nightmares and trauma and whatnot. So I wrote this smol fic.

~~~~~

There Is Rest and There's You

The first time Nico sees Annabeth leaving the Poseidon cabin at an ungodly early hour (having been dragged from his warm bed by Leo and Jason for an ungodly early errand), he flushes, quickly looking away. Because it's obvious, even to him, that she’d spent the night. But Annabeth merely sleepily raises a hand in greeting and continues on her way back to her own cabin.

Jason, maybe noticing Nico’s discomfort, simply shrugs. “Musical cabins,” he explains. “Happens a lot.”

Leo nods in agreement. “Yep. I had some really wicked nightmares last week, three nights running. I ended up on Jason’s floor. Would have been in the bed, but Piper got there first,” he adds, disgruntled.

Huh, Nico thinks. Musical cabins. That's a little weird.

After that, he pays more attention. It’s not unusual, as it turns out, to find the Apollo cabin overstuffed with various campers early in the morning, rivalling even the occupancy of the Hermes cabin. Sometimes it’s couples tucked in together, but more often it’s friends, siblings. Seeking comfort, and sleep.

It's six months into Nico's stay at Camp when he begins forgetting to lock the door to Cabin Thirteen. He nearly runs Harley through with his sword the first night he finds the younger boy fast asleep in his cabin. But after that, it quickly becomes routine to wake to the quiet comfort of someone else’s soft snoring across the darkened room. Most often it's Will, brushing a warm hand over Nico's forehead before settling into the other bed, but sometimes it's Harley, and several times Leo, complaining that Jason’s bed was already full.

It’s a little weird, but surprisingly nice. Nico begins leaving his door unlocked most of the time.

On a night late in February, the nightmares are worse than usual. Nico wakes in a cold sweat, heart pounding, tears welling behind his eyelids. He does what he usually does - dresses quickly, and walks. There’s something meditative about the rhythm of his boots on the ground and the sharp, cold air on his skin that usually settles him.

But the thing is, it’s really cold. And after only about half an hour he finds himself standing in the central green, torn. He can't feel his toes, but he can’t quite stomach the thought of returning to his own empty cabin, either.

His frozen feet lead him up the stairs to Cabin Seven. And gods, it’s warm inside.

There’s a soft rustle of blankets from Will’s bunk.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is soft and scratchy. “What’s wrong?”

The taller boy is out of bed and across the cabin in a heartbeat, reaching for Nico’s hand. Scanning him, Nico knows, blue eyes wide with worry.

Nico shakes his head. “I’m fine. Just - couldn’t sleep,” he murmurs, and the concern on Will’s face fades to sympathy.

“The bunk above mine is empty,” he says simply.

And that’s that. Nico climbs up, snuggles in. Will’s messy blond bedhead pops over the edge of the bunk, his smile fond. He squeezes Nico’s arm. “Sleep tight.” And then he disappears.

Nico worries it might be awkward, in the daylight. It’s anything but. The Apollo cabin is a riot of sound and motion in the morning. Austin flings a stuffed turtle at Nico's head. Nico's foot is hanging off the edge of the bunk, and Kayla tickles it, cackling when he squeaks.

“Breakfast time, sleepyhead,” she chirps.

“Sleep well?” Will asks as Nico climbs back down.

And the thing is, he really did.

Time passes. The nightmares wax and wane, but they get easier, mostly.

Until one night in July. It’s almost a year to the day since he came to stay at Camp - Nico thinks, later, maybe that’s why the nightmares hit particularly hard. He wakes shaking, gasping for air, convinced he’s fading again, permanently this time. It scares him so much more than it did when it was actually happening. He shoves his hands against the wood of his headboard, hard, positive they’re going to slip right through. They don’t, but he can't shake the panic.

Nico’s up and out the door in the space of a breath, no hesitation as he makes a beeline, barefoot, for Cabin Seven. The air is cool for July, the full moon shining bright above.

He can feel his panic ease the second he closes the door behind him, soothed by a quiet symphony of soft breathing.

But the bunk above Will’s is occupied tonight, and as Nico's eyes adjust, he realizes all the others are, too.

“Nico?” Will’s voice is a whisper. “Nightmare?” He sits up, silhouetted in moonlight.

“Yeah.” Nico steps closer. “Looks like you’re all full in here, though. I’ll see you in the morning.”

He turns to leave, but Will grabs his arm. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, it’s okay. I’ll be fine. You go back to sleep.”

Will gazes at him in the dark, fingers still wrapped around Nico’s wrist. “Or you could stay. Here.”

“There’s no room, though.”

“I have room,” Will whispers.

Nico blinks at Will’s bunk, then back at Will, his stomach attempting to leap into his throat. Will’s eyes are wide, nervous.

“I... um -” Nico begins. He can feel his face heating at the thought of it.

“Gods, di Angelo, just stop talking and get into his bed. Literally no one cares,” Kayla grumbles from the next bunk over. There appears to be at least one Demeter kid in her bed. Maybe two.

Will’s fighting a grin now and he shrugs. Nico shrugs back, then… climbs into the bed. Will scoots over to make room, pulling the blankets over them both. And gods it’s warm, and it smells like Will, and when nothing else calms him, that always does.

Nico lets his eyes close. Then -

“Do - do I feel like I’m fading?” he asks in a whisper, echoes of the nightmare flashing behind his closed eyelids.

Will gazes at him. Then he reaches for Nico’s hand.

“No,” Will whispers. Someone clears their throat nearby and Will grimaces, yanking the blankets over their heads.

“Did something happen?” he asks, his breath brushing Nico’s face.

“No, just - nightmare."

Will nods in understanding. “No. You’re good,” he smiles. He goes to pull the blankets back down, then seems to reconsider.

“That’s um… that’s usually why I end up in your cabin. At night.” he admits, quiet. “Sometimes... I just need to make sure that you’re still solid.”

Nico stomach flip-flops. "Oh."

Will shrugs, sheepish. He pulls the blankets back down, settling on his side. "Here," he says, reaching for Nico's hand again. "Then neither of us has to worry." He tangles their fingers together, reaching out to lay his other hand on Nico's arm, tethering him.

Will's soft smile in the dark is dazzling, and his hands are warm, and Nico worries his own answering smile might just light up the entire cabin.

When he wakes hours later to the familiar sounds of chaos, his head tucked against Will's shoulder, Will's face buried in his hair, well. He thinks maybe this musical cabins thing isn't so bad after all.

Notes

This is a short one! I tried to challenge myself to write something coherent in 1000 words or less. I almost managed it.

It is also my personal headcanon that Harley kind of attaches himself to Nico & sees him as a big brother. This comes up in something else I'm working on as well.

I would love to hear your related headcanons! Snuggly demigods! Sleeping in heaps like puppies!

Jason may not come up much in my fics but please rest assured he is Always Alive.

#nico di angelo #will solace #solangelo #one-shot #prompt fic #my writing #percy jackson and the olympians #heroes of olympus #pjo #rated g #fluff #other characters appear briefly #minor valgrace maybe?

[ilguna]

im sorry, i know you are looking for some request from other fandoms, but this one just seemed so perfect :(

from piano sessions, my tears ricochet by taylor swift with finnick?

i promise i will send another request with a different fandom, and it's totally ok if you don't want to write this ❤️ and of course, CONGRATULATIONS!

☼ my tears ricochet (Finnick Odair) ☼

warnings; swearing, death mention.

wc; 2.5k

prompt; Piano Sessions: songfic, my tears ricochet by taylor swift.

—

When you briefly met Commander Paylor in District Two before the Capitol invasion, she struck you as more of a leader than President Coin. Which was odd, considering that Paylor was a textile worker, burdened with the responsibility of organizing rebel attacks.

She’s a polite person to be around, confident in the way she holds herself, speaking with unwavering authority. You didn’t feel the need to lower your voice in her presence, because she wanted to know what you had to say. It was a nice change from where you’d been under Coin in District Thirteen.

There, you felt like if you breathed too loudly, it would get back to her. The amount of times she called you into Command simply because you were badmouthing her to the former residents of District Twelve was a little ridiculous. You aren’t entirely sure who heard you and reported it, or why Coin cared so damn much.

She must’ve assumed that you had an influence on the people, which she was wrong about. The only times you brought up her flaws was when someone else asked you what you thought of her. Oftentimes, it was because they were too afraid to be the one to say it first.

You could see right through her, like a sheet of tracing paper. The steps she’d taken in order to preserve her own self-image were done out of insecurity. She was afraid that if someone rose too high, they’d sweep the power right from underneath her. That’s why she was so willing to let Katniss go into danger.

All she had to do was win the rebellion, and she’d get control over Panem. And once she did, she showed her true colors. You knew the moment she suggested a symbolic Hunger Games that she wasn’t the right person to be in that chair. Even if a few of the others agreed to letting her do that, you knew they were resentful that she wanted to punish the Capitol in the same way they’d punished the districts for seventy-five years.

She missed one important factor, though. There was a reason why you were following behind Katniss Everdeen and not her. You trusted Katniss to make the right choices, and she never failed you. That’s why you knew that she wouldn’t let Coin announce the proposition.

That same evening, Snow’s execution was to take place. Instead, she found herself humiliated, with an arrow through her cold heart. Katniss took out the only evil left in a position of power, knowing full well that she could’ve gotten killed by the rebels for it. 

Chaos followed this, an emergency election took place, where Paylor was given the position of President. In the weeks that followed, there was a televised trial, where everyone that was close to Katniss, was called to the stand to give statements on her character.

During this time, you weren’t allowed to go home to visit. You were forced to stay in the Capitol, because they could call for you to speak at any moment. And even worse, they’d placed you in a room with Finnick, because they were still under the assumption that you were together.

You weren’t. You and Finnick had been broken up for at least two and a half weeks, since the day that Boggs had died in the apartment complex courtyard. 

The argument wouldn’t come until hours later, when you’d made it several blocks down the street, holed up inside of a different apartment to catch your breath and sort out a plan. After you watched the Peacekeepers destroy the building on live television, announcing you all dead, Finnick said that he wanted to take a walk to get some fresh air.

You went with him, mostly for safety in numbers, but also because you knew he secretly wanted the company. You went halfway around the block without an issue, but when you were about to turn the corner, the armed vehicle pulled up beside you, and the Peacekeepers started flooding out. 

As you’d begun to curse the idea, Finnick started talking to the Peacekeepers, calmly, hands raised in the air. He told them that it would be a bad idea to kill you two on the street, because it would alert the others, and they’d run. However, he told them that if they tried to take you two by force, they’d find themselves in the same position.

You were morbidly curious on how Finnick would charm his way out of this one, when you realized that he wasn’t going to. He was giving them the information on how to catch you. He told them that the squad had off-handedly mentioned going into the sewers to evade the Pods. The best way to catch you guys would be, then. 

And as long as the Peacekeepers let you two go, and didn’t interfere between the time you got to the apartment and into the sewers, he wouldn’t tell the squad about this encounter. To your surprise, the Peacekeepers agreed, letting you go.

The way back to the apartment was quiet. You were too stunned to say anything, wondering how Finnick had gone from the person to sacrifice himself, to doing the opposite. He knew your silence wasn’t anything good, which is why he told you that he wouldn’t let anything happen to you. 

You weren’t upset by that. You weren’t scared that the Capitol was going to throw everything at you to either kill or capture you. You knew that when it came down to it, you’d keep yourself alive. It was the part after, when he told you not to say anything to the squad, did you finally crack.

You broke up with Finnick on the street.

To his credit, he upheld his promise of keeping you safe. The issue is that courtesy wasn’t given to any of the other squad members. Half of them died. Messalla, Jackson, Leeg, Castor and Homes were lost in the sewers. Something that didn’t need to happen, if he’d let you two get taken.

Whether or not he wanted to admit it out loud, Finnick was terrified that the topic would somehow get brought up in court. It was all he ever talked about when he got the chance. That there was a chance that the people you’d trusted for the past year could find out he betrayed them.

And against your better judgement, you told Finnick that what happened with the Peacekeepers would stay between the two of you. If it meant that he would stop worrying about it, you’d never breathe a word. Besides, if it did get out, it would destroy the both of you, not just him. 

He’d get it because he’s the one that told the Peacekeepers, and ensured that you all went into the sewers. You would go down because you didn’t say anything about it, despite having a whole hour to do so.

You should never have told him this, because it’s what sparked the idea for his stupid decision in the first place.

Finnick got questioned before you did. It was simple, straight-forward. They wanted to know Katniss’s mindset during your journey through the Capitol, if there was anything out of the ordinary. When he got to the part of the story after Boggs had died and you holed up in the apartment, he tried to completely skip over your walk outside.

The man that was asking the questions, didn’t let this slide. He knew the two of you had taken a walk. You think he was trying to make smalltalk, now that you’re looking back at it. But Finnick must’ve panicked, because he let everything spill, the same way he had when he exposed Snow for the victor prostitution.

The issue is that he spun the story.

Finnick turned the blame around entirely, and he did so effortlessly, as if he’d been rehearsing it for days in a row. He told the court that yes, you had gone on a walk together so he could clear his head. However, a Peacekeeper truck pulled up, and that’s when you talked your way out of getting captured, by offering Katniss up as a sacrifice.

The entire courtroom filled with silence when that word left his mouth. Dozens of pairs of eyes landed on you, but you were looking at Finnick. There was only one word that chanted through your mind, getting louder as the seconds ticked on.

Wrong.

Even the man that was questioning him was confused, asking him to elaborate. That’s when Finnick repeated the events, twisting the truth to put you in the hot seat. You were the one that calmly spoke to them with your hands raised. You were the one that told the Peacekeepers about the sewers. You were the one that threatened Finnick if he spoke about it.

He was the one that broke up with you out of fear.

“Wrong.” You breathed, getting to your feet. “You’re the one that did all of that, Finnick!”

The judge had you removed from the courtroom, while they wrapped up the trial without your statement. You were supposed to go on stand that same day, but they ruled you out, because you were too emotionally unstable to be seen.

Reasonably so, because it was only thirty minutes later, did you realize that the entirety of Panem had just watched Finnick lie straight through his perfectly white teeth. And you’d never get the chance to explain yourself to anybody, because they wouldn’t see you.

Finnick was removed from your mansion bedroom, leaving you here alone. No one saw you for several days on end, except to leave food at your door. You were stuck watching the trial from the television, and it ended yesterday, with the conclusion that Katniss was under so much pressure the day that she killed Coin, that she was deemed not mentally sound. 

And of course, you’ve received blame for that, too. If she hadn’t witnessed so many people get murdered in the sewers because of your actions to sell the squad out, she would’ve been able to think straight during the execution. In this situation, you’re the monster, and Finnick has been deemed the hero for coming forward with the truth.

You think that you can come back from this, though. The people around you just need time away, to cool down from the trial. Once it’s been a few months, you’ll come back with a proper explanation, appeal to Paylor, because she’s the level-headed one, after all.

Right now, you want to get home.

There’s a hovercraft waiting in the City Circle for the victors. It’ll be a long trip as you drop off the others on the way to District Four, but you don’t mind. You’ve been craving your bed ever since you got to District Thirteen. It’s been months since you’ve had proper time to relax.

Paylor is waiting in front of the front door with a couple of rebel guards. Once you get close enough, they move to block the way. Your eyes switch between them and her, confused.

“What’s happening?” You ask.

“I regret to inform you that you will not be able to go back to District Four.” Paylor tells you in a measured voice. “There were quite a few complaints regarding your actions, and the general consensus is that they wouldn’t feel safe if you were to arrive in District Four and choose to stay there.”

“They wouldn’t feel safe?” You ask, face contorting. “How many times do I have to tell you that Finnick is the one that told the Peacekeepers about the sewers?”

She closes her eyes. “We have no proof that you weren’t the one that told them. They want to be safe, rather than sorry.”

You side step, trying to see over the guard’s shoulders. You find that Finnick has stepped foot off the hovercraft, standing at the bottom of the ramp, hands in his pockets. You begin to shake your head at him.

“I want to speak to him.” You tell her, ignoring what she’s said. “I want to speak to Finnick before he gets to go home and I don’t.”

“Step back.” She orders you.

You listen to her, watching as she slips through the gap between the guard and the door. She walks down the runway, with Finnick meeting her in the middle. The two of them talk for a brief moment, where it ends with him nodding. Paylor motions to tell the guards to let you through.

They move aside, you go down the steps, heading straight for Finnick. He doesn’t move, allowing you to go to him. Paylor leaves to go back to the mansion, allowing you to speak privately.

“Finnick.” You snap, slamming your hands against his chest, hands gripping on the front of his shirt. You pull him forward. “You set me up. You son of a bitch. They’re not letting me get on!”

Finnick presses his hands to your shoulders, pushing you away. “I know.”

“Tell them you lied.” You shake him. “You don’t have to tell them it was you, just tell them you fucking lied.”

“I’m not.” He tells you. “This is your own fault, (Y/n).”

“How is this my fault?” You demand. “I promised you!”

“You broke up with me.” He’s calm, which is making you agitated. “After I made sure you got out of the sewers safely, you didn’t think to apologize. It was the right move to make.”

“Why would I?” You hiss. “Your actions murdered people.”

He makes a face. “Let go of me.”

“Everything I have is in District Four. My home, my pictures, my belongings. My entire life is there, and you’re the only thing standing in the way of me going. Just tell them you lied, and I’ll leave you alone.”

Finnick pulls your hands off of his shirt. “You have District Two, didn’t Paylor tell you? They said that they’d take you and Gale in.”

Gale, a bitter name in your mouth.

“I don’t belong there, and you know it.” You say.

“It doesn’t have to be there. You can go anywhere you want, (Y/n).”

“Anywhere I want.” You echo, as if it’s a cruel joke, blood boiling. “Just not home.”

“Maybe they’ll let you back sometime in the future.” Finnick begins to back up toward the hovercraft. “I can’t promise you that your house will be there. I heard from Annie that they set it on fire the same night I told them the truth. You’ll be lucky if there’s still ashes.”

“You’re going to regret this, Finnick.” You don’t move from where you stand. “This is going to haunt you for the rest of your life. Each time you look at the other side of the street, it’ll kill you knowing that you did this to me.”

“We’ll see about that.”

--

this was part of my 3k celebration! thank you anon!!

#ilguna #finnick odair #finnick odair imagine #finnick odair fanfic #finnick odair oneshot #finnick odair x reader #finnick odair x you #finnick odair x yn #finnick odair x y/n #finnick imagine #finnick fanfic #finnick x reader #finnick oneshot #finnick x you #finnick x yn #finnick x y/n #thg #the hunger games #3k celebration #angst #anon #requested #ask

[raplinesmoon]

Turn Back Time (KSJ x F!Reader)

pairing: baseball player!Seokjin x doctor!reader (based on the movie 13 Going On 30) genres/au/rating: fluff, humour, angst, smut, time travel au, 18+ summary: After total humiliation at his middle school baseball try outs, Kim Seokjin wants nothing more than for his awkward years to fade away until he’s thirty. Cue a magic baseball glove, and his wish is finally granted. Seokjin suddenly wakes up seventeen years later, now the star pitcher of the team he’d always dreamed of playing for. Confused and overwhelmed at the prospect of the new life waiting for him, he turns to the only person who seems to understand him — you. Will Seokjin learn what it truly means to be thirty, flirty, and thriving? Or will he find himself wishing he could turn back time?

warnings: bodyswap au (kind of), alternating pov, teenage insecurities, bullying, Seokjin is confused, mention of sports injury, thirst, mentions of hangover, sassy thirteen year olds, mentioned infidelity (not between main characters), cheating (like in sports), swearing, angsty confessions, smut warnings: nudity, Seokjin pops a semi at the wrong time, soft!dom Jin, making out, heavy petting, dry humping, nipple play, unprotected s*x (wrap it before you tap it)

word count: 13.3k a/n: a very happy early 30th bday to our WWH! This is my submission for the Catch of The Century collab hosted by myself, @joheunsaram, and @kithtaehyung! I was super excited writing the role reversal with Seokjin, and 13 Going On 30 is only one of my favorite movies ever (seriously, it never misses on every single rewatch). I also just miss Jin so much T_T I hope you all enjoy 💜 also ty to Mars for beta-reading this as well!

listen to the playlist here!

The envelope crinkles as it’s handed to Seokjin, and his heart drops before he can even pause his iPod and yank his earbuds out, the Black Eyed Peas providing the soundtrack to his humiliation. 

Sighing, he looks at his face twisted mid-expression, half-smile and half-grimace, the metal of his braces glinting against the camera flash, and wonders why the photographer had even bothered counting down if he wasn’t going to wait for him to smile for the photo anyway. Not to mention the packet had been inappropriately labeled “Suckjin”. His eomma would be so disappointed. Looking around, he pushes his glasses up onto his nose before shoving the damn thing into his backpack, where it hopefully wouldn’t see the light of day for a few more hours.

“Kim!”

Seokjin bites back a groan at the voice bellowing in the hallway, turning to see Jackson Wang and his posse of baseball boys strolling up to him. He and Jackson weren’t friends, at least not in the traditional sense of the word, but it wasn’t like they hated each other either. They had a mutual agreement - Seokjin would offer to do Jackson’s algebra homework for the semester, and Jackson promised him a try-out spot for the school’s baseball team.

To Seokjin, it was worth it. The baseball team was at the height of status in their janky middle school - everyone knew the players on the team were the coolest, sporting the finest threads walking through the hallways, and tipping their caps to make the girls scream. But it was more than that - for as long as he could remember, Seokjin had always been the lame kid. The one that faded into the background, hiding his acne-laden face under his mop of dark hair, constantly fiddling with his glasses. He hated that.

For once, he wanted to be the special one. The one who hit the winning home run at the game, the one who made all his fellow students and teachers scream with joy, who brought the school to victory. Then no one would ever forget him again. And now, with a try-out spot on the horizon, he finally got his chance.

“Did you hear about that new chick that moved here?” Jackson’s laugh interrupts Seokjin’s stream of intrusive thoughts, and he shoves his iPod into his book. “She’s supposed to be hot stuff.”

“Dude, you should totally hit her up,” DK, one of Jackson’s cronies, eggs him on with a guffaw. Jackson waves him away with an annoyed look, telling them he needs to talk to Seokjin for a second.

His tall, muscular figure looms over Seokjin’s scrawny one, the hard surface of the locker meeting his back.

“Sooo, I know try-outs were supposed to be tonight,” Jackson drawls, looking Seokjin over. “Big day, right?”

He’s unable to respond with anything but a gulp, knowing something was up. It always was with Jackson.

“Well, stupid Mr. Kang decided that we’d have a take-home assignment, and it’s due at the end of the week. I hate to cancel tryouts, I know how much you were looking forward to them, but we’ve gotta bust our asses for this, you know how it is.”

“I-, I could do the assignment for you,” Seokjin blurts out, finally summoning the bravery to speak. This was his once chance. He couldn’t screw it up now. 

“Excellent,” Jackson’s eyes glint with mischief, his head turning to regard Seokjin with interest. He claps him on the back, the force of his palm causing Seokjin to sputter, before walking away with a wink.

“See ya later, Kim!”

The bell rings, and Seokjin immediately makes a beeline for the bathroom, changing out of the argyle patterned vest that his mother had put him in for picture day, and into his well-loved, too-large pair of Nike gym shorts that he’d found for $3 at Goodwill. Looking in the dusty mirror, he checks himself out, making sure he looked the exact part of a baseball player. His unruly hair sticks up everywhere. Sighing in frustration, Seokjin lets the water under the sink run, wetting his hands and combing it back until it lays off his face.

Great, now he looked like he hadn’t taken a shower in a week.

“Baseball try-outs?” a voice next to him squeaks, and he turns to see another kid right next to him, shorter by an inch or two, his heart-shaped smile looking up at him.

“You too?” he asks the kid, who erupts into giggles, his laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Nahhhh, it’s the dance team for me, I’m Hobi by the way,” he reaches out his hand for Seokjin to shake. Seokjin takes the hand with hesitation. Hobi seemed nice, if not a little weird. He reminded Seokjin of himself.

“Dance team? Isn’t that kind of lame though?”

“What do you mean?” Hobi asks him with curious eyes. “It’s not any more lame than following around Jackson Wang and his posse of meatheads. It’s more original.” 

Hobi straightens up when he sees the clock, the time hitting both of them.

“Oop! I gotta go, I’ll see you later dude! Good luck with try-outs!” he waves Seokjin goodbye, rushing out the door.

Hobi’s words about being original weigh heavily on Seokjin, and he wonders if doing all this would be worth it in the end. After a few minutes of contemplation, Seokjin decides it is. He doesn’t want to be original, he thinks, he just wants to be cool. 

“Seokjinnie! Show Eomma the pictures,” his mom pinches his cheeks, one hand on the steering wheel. Seokjin scowls, wishing she’d hurry up. They were going to be late for tryouts. 

“Eomma, can you please just give it a break?” he grumbles, but she reaches into his bag anyway, peeking at the envelope with the preview.

“Oh, you look sooo handsome my boy!” she coos, beaming at the photo of him with his braces showing. Was she for real?

“Eomma, stop calling me that! I hate my life,” he whines, slumping into his seat. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out his most treasured baseball card, Albert Pujols staring him back in the face. Why couldn’t he be more like his hero? Not the awkward, bumbling thirteen-year-old Seokjin that he was, but an all-star.

“I wish I was thirty,” he sighs, and he watches his Eomma purse her lips.

“Seokjinnie,” she says as she pulls into the parking lot of the baseball field. “Eomma loves you very much, you know that, right? Whether you’re thirteen or thirty.”

She presses a wet kiss to his cheek, her lipstick leaving a faint pink smudge on him.

“Eomma ewwww!” he groans but hugs her anyway with a smile. He knew he’d come home to a warm bowl full of kimchi jjigae tonight.

“Good luck!!” her voice fades off into the distance as Seokjin descends into the dugout where the locker rooms were, ready to give this his best shot.

.  . . 

The sun trickles through the small windows of the dugout, the grey specks of dust flitting through the air. It’s empty. Seokjin walks through, realizing there’s no one there. Did he come at the wrong time?

Pacing around the room, he looks for something, anything that would indicate the team had been here, a spare bat, or maybe a jersey somewhere. But his heart sinks when he realizes there was nothing. He’d been such a fool.

“Ohhhh Kimmmm,” a voice says from the shadows, and Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Turning around, he sees Jackson’s figure looming at the door, a devious smirk lighting up his face.

“Jackson, what’s going on, where’s everybody—” Seokjin begins, only to be cut off by Jackson howling in laughter.

“Poor guy,” he mutters, stalking towards Seokjin with a menacing gleam in his eyes. “Did you really think those tryouts were real? That we’d let a lame-o like you on the team? You’re more stupid than I thought.”

Seokjin feels like he’s being eaten alive on the inside, shame and humiliation coming over him in waves, his head slumping forward to stare at the ground while Jackson’s words ring loud and clear in the back of his mind.

“I don’t get it, I did the report for you, you said I–, I’d have a chance this year,” he stutters, Jackson backing him up against the lockers. 

Jackson picks up a dusty baseball mitt off the ground, shoving it into Seokjin’s hands before pushing him into the locker, the door slamming shut and caging him in darkness.

“You never stood a chance, Kim. You’re just not cool enough.”

. . . 

Seokjin doesn’t know how long he bangs against the door of the locker, knuckles raw and bleeding from being cut by the metal. His voice has gone hoarse from screaming for help, knowing that he’s out of luck for a few hours.

He hated everyone - Jackson, the team, all his classmates at school who made him feel like he was worth nothing. He couldn’t wait to grow up, to get out of here, and to finally be somebody he was proud of.

Bile rises up in his throat as he looks at the dilapidated baseball mitt in his hands. He wants to fling it off into oblivion, its presence only reminding him of how silly he’d been to believe that things would be different. 

Still, it was all he had, and so he clutched it to his chest, blowing off the dust, rocking back and forth in order to comfort himself as the sun began to set outside.

“I just wanna be thirty,” he whispers into the darkness before his eyes shut and he finally falls asleep.

Seokjin snorts in the middle of his slumber, shifting around to make himself more comfortable, when all of a sudden, he feels himself land on a hard surface with a thud. Cursing, he rubs his shoulder, standing up but tripping on the edge of something soft. 

His eyes open sleepily, but it’s still dark. Grumbling, he palms at his face, eventually finding the edge of something covering his eyes. A blindfold? How had that gotten there? Lifting it off, light floods his vision, and his heart stops.

The room around him was very unfamiliar - he catches sight of the rug he’d tripped on moments ago, his eyes traveling up to the sleek bed made out of dark wood with its rumpled sheets. This wasn’t his room. Where were all the baseball posters? And his GameCube in the corner? And his desk with his iMac?

There was only one answer for this - he’d been kidnapped. Panicking, Seokjin fumbles with the doorknob, stumbling into the hallway of the apartment, his eyes widening and heart racing at the even more unfamiliar surroundings. 

“Eomma?” he calls out, padding down the hallway and taking in the sparse decorations. “Appa?”

He pauses when he sees a poster on the wall, a scantily clad woman in what can only be described as a provocative pose, and his cheeks flush with heat. He turns his eyes away quickly, feeling like he’s violating someone’s privacy.

The living room is even more strange, full of black furniture and far neater than Seokjin’s room had ever been. His eyes widen at the large flat-screen TV that sits in the corner, and he lets out a soft *wow* at the thought of being able to watch baseball games on there. 

He turns to look around more, only to come face-to-face with a mirror. But the person staring back at him isn’t Seokjin. This person was not a thirteen-year-old with acne, a mouth full of braces, and dorky wire-rimmed glasses. He looked like one of those models on magazine covers, with hair pushed back from his face, skin clearer than the water at the beach, and a jawline that could cut glass.

He screams at the unfamiliar face, thinking there’s an intruder in the house with him. He staggers backward, tripping on the raised entrance to the living room, and falling flat on his back. Pain explodes across the back of his head, and he wants to cry.

From elsewhere in the apartment, he hears a door click, and he peers over at the mirror again. He freezes when he realizes there is no other intruder. The figure in the mirror moves the same way he does, copying his exact movement, and Seokjin brings a hand to his face, seeing it rest on the jawline of the attractive reflection.

That was him. He was the man. Was this some kind of dream? Or an alternate reality? He tests the waters, feeling around his face, tugging at the skin to see if it was some sort of costume. His hands fly to his chest, realizing that he’s shirtless, and he’s amazed by the muscles he finds underneath his palms.

“What is happening?” he hyperventilates, shocked at the deep voice that comes out, so unlike his own. “What is going on?”

His anxiety increases as he begins to pace around the apartment, coaxing himself to breathe and relax and take a seat. He’d find a way out of this.

Plopping onto the leather sofa, something on the coffee table catches his eye. It’s a letter, and he pales when he sees the name on the envelope. 

It’s his. Kim Seokjin. But that’s not his address. Frantically, he sifts through the mail, growing even paler when he sees all the letters are addressed to him, and that they’re being sent to this same address. He lived here.

The sofa creaks as he rises up abruptly, searching anywhere he can for a phone. Finding it in the corner, he dials his parents’ number, silently praying they hadn’t changed it. His Appa’s voice greets him on the phone, saying that they were currently away in Korea, but they’d be back at the end of this month, and he lets out a heavy sigh. He was alone.

Seokjin thinks this is the weirdest dream he’s ever been in, but he’s interrupted by the sound of the sink turning on in what he can only assume is the bathroom in this place. 

“Seokjin, babe?” a female voice calls out from behind the door, and he jumps back, terror seizing him. This must be the strange woman who kidnapped him! She was probably some kind of weirdo, why was she calling him babe?

Seokjin searches for something, anything he can use to protect himself, settling on an umbrella in the corner. 

“I-, I know you’re there,” his voice wobbles as he yells out to the woman. “My parents are gonna be home soon!”

The door creaks open and out steps a woman. The first thing Seokjin can think of is legs. So much leg, peeking out at him from underneath a fluffy white towel. And then he screams again. Because she’s naked under there. 

“Babe, where’s the conditioner?” she asks him, crossing her arms. Her chest is emphasized by this action, and Seokjin looks up at the ceiling. This was inappropriate. He had to get out of here now!

“Come join me!” her voice fades into the background as he runs, grabbing the first coat and the first pair of shoes he sees in the entryway. The stairs of the unfamiliar building wind around him as he descends, his head spinning, and before he knows it, he’s through a golden set of doors and out onto a busy city street.

A strange buzzing comes from his pocket and Seokjin yelps. Was he being attacked? Had the government bugged him?

“Excuse me, ma’am, do you hear that?” he says frantically, pointing to his pocket. “Do you hear the buzzing?”

The woman passes him by without a second glance. 

“Kim!” a voice calls out to him. “Get your ass over here!”

Seokjin turns to the sound of the voice and stops in his tracks when he sees the person calling out to him. 

It’s Jackson Wang, all suited up for practice. But he’s not the Jackson Seokjin remembers, his tall looming figure from their middle school only growing more intimidating with the amount of Jackson has built over the years. The man chatters away on the phone angrily, gesturing for Seokjin to get in the car. What kind of world had he found himself in?

“I-, I don’t get in the car with strangers,” Seokjin says confidently, turning away from Jackson’s grabby hands. The man scoffs.

“Can you please just get in bro? We don’t have time for this, we’re gonna be late.”

“BAAABEEE?” Seokjin hears the voice from the apartment again, looking up to see the woman from the apartment calling down to him, now wearing a bra. She blows him kisses and giggles. He definitely did not want to be stuck with her. 

His head feels like it’s gonna explode, caught between two horrifying situations. But right now even though it was Jackson, the dude in front of him seemed less weird, and so, he falls over into the seat of the car, the door slamming shut behind him.

During the car ride, Seokjin peers through the windows of the car, taking in the bright lights and busy streets of the city around him. He’s in awe. He never imagined being somewhere like this before. 

“Dude, I know I’m your best friend, but you’re acting a little weird, even for me,” Jackson says next to him, and Seokjin straightens up, looking over at him. His best friend? Maybe he had all the answers to what was going on.

“We’re really best friends?” he asks, and the man snickers in response. “Something really weird is happening to me.”

“Oh god,” Jackson groans. “Did you finally get a girl pregnant?”

Seokjin feels his blood run cold. Pregnant? He hadn’t even kissed a girl yet, how could he get someone pregnant?

“NO!” Seokjin blurts out. “No, no, no, it’s even weirder! I slept in an apartment I’ve never seen before, and there was a naked girl in my bathroom and I almost saw her boobs!”

He finishes with an exhale, but the car comes to a screeching halt at the exact same time, the other man not even saying a word before he gets out.

“W-wait,” Seokjin runs after him. “Please don’t leave me here, just listen to me, I’m thirteen years old–”

“If you’re gonna start lying about your age, Kim, I’d make sure it was something legal at least,” Jackson smirks, walking ahead of him on the street.

“I know it sounds weird, but strange things are happening to me, like, like that!!”

The buzzing in Seokjin’s pocket starts again, and he freaks out, spinning in a circle as he tries to locate the source. 

“Would you stop it?” Jackson pulls something out of Seokjin’s pocket. It’s a shiny, flat, metallic object that continues to buzz in his hands. “It’s probably just Coach.”

“C-coach? Who Coach? What Coach?” He feels like his head is about to explode. 

The phone is held to Seokjin’s ear.

“HEY BAABEEE!” A voice drawls on the other end, and Seokjin screams, throwing the phone to his companion.

“Get her away from me!” he yelps.

“Okay, listen to me!” Jackson roars, stopping Seokjin in his tracks. “You need to calm down. We have a team meeting in ten minutes. I’m going to tell you what to do, you just need to repeat after me.”

“Ok,” Seokjin says, taking a deep breath.

“I am Kim Seokjin, star batsman for the Eagles. I am a tough bastard, and I’m gonna walk into the stadium and not let anyone know I’m hungover.”

“I’m–” Seokjin prepares to repeat the words, but stops when he hears the rest of them. “I AM?”

But Jackson is already gone, disappearing behind the double doors that lead to a stadium Seokjin never thought he’d find himself going into. The Eagles. His dream team.

Seokjin follows Jackson through the stadium, oohing and ahhing at all the different banners and pieces of sports memorabilia that are on display. This has to be the wildest field trip he’s ever been on.

The man next to him scoffs.

“It’s not like you come here every day,” he chuckles, sarcasm seeping into his voice.

“I DO?” Seokjin can’t believe his ears. 

The two of them walk through, scores of people greeting Seokjin and wishing him a good morning. He doesn’t know any of them, their faces all unfamiliar. But they knew him. They knew him and they loved him. He was a star.

“There he is, our star batsman!!” a voice bellows, and Seokjin is attacked by a man throwing him into the biggest bear hug.

“Coach,” Jackson whispers.

“Coach!” Seokjin repeats with a squeak, feeling the wind get knocked out of him. “You’re my coach!”

“That’s right kiddo, who’s your daddy?” the man chortles, and Seokjin responds with eagerness.

“His name is Kim— ow!” He’s cut off by a sharp jab to his chest. 

He follows the two men into the dugout, surprised to see a room full of men wearing Eagles jerseys. The team. This was the team. He was on their team!

Seokjin buzzes with excitement, waving hello to all the players with a bounce in his step. They all look at him with concern etched in their features, and the guy he came with urges him to sit down in a cubby. The shiny letters of “4 Kim” greet him, etched on the plaque that adorns the space, and a weird feeling of pride bubbles in his chest. He’d made it.

“Team,” Coach clears his throat, and a hush falls over the room, the commotion dying down. “We need to get it together. The Hawks have consistently outplayed us in every game of the season this year, and they’ve been using our own plays against us. We need to move fast, beat them at their own game, hit them when they least expect it, especially if we have any chance of making it to the playoffs this year! Don’t you agree, Kim?”

It takes a second for Seokjin to realize the man is referring to him, and he sits up straight, anxiety kicking in because he hadn’t prepared a response to his impassioned speech.

He raises his hand. “Can I go to the bathroom?”

The team erupts into laughter, howls echoing off the walls of the dugout, before Coach blows his whistle, silencing them all at once.

“Get out there on the field boys, we don’t have time to mess around,” and Seokjin rises up, ready to throw the ball around for a bit, happy for the familiarity of baseball to make him feel grounded when it seemed like everything about his life was upside down.

“Not you, Kim,” Coach holds out a hand to stop him. “You’re injured, remember? Your physical therapy with the doctor is in five minutes. Don’t be late.” And with a nod, he leaves.

Seokjin was even more confused. Injured? But he didn’t remember getting into an accident of any kind. 

He hoped whoever this doctor was, they could help give him some answers.

The clacking of heels signals your arrival moments later, Seokjin lifting his head up to asses the new entry to the dugout. When his eyes fall on you, he sucks in a sharp breath.

Wow. You had to be the prettiest girl he’d ever seen, pencil skirt hugging your figure perfectly, hips tapering out to an ass that he knew Irene Bae couldn’t have accomplished no matter how much she stuffed her cheerleading uniform with toilet paper. His eyes travel upwards, falling on your chest, and immediately he blushes, reminded of the woman in the apartment this morning. Your boobs are covered by a silky top, the fabric doing nothing to hide their shape, and Seokjin gulps. They look way nicer than hers, anyway. He wants to rest his face on them like a pillow.

Maybe he should ask you out on a date first, though.

“Hi Jin!” your soft voice greets him happily, a dazzling smile taking over your features, and Seokjin feels his heart speed up. He hadn’t felt this dizzy since he saw a poster of Beyonce in a bikini when he was shopping at Target with his mom. “How are you doing today?”

“F-fine,” Seokjin stammers, unable to look you in the eyes when you take a seat next to him. He tries to find interest in the specks that line the floor, but your smell overwhelms him, the sweet floral scent attacking his nose. You looked nice, sounded nice, and you even smelled nice. Not to mention you were actually nice.

And he was supposed to be alone with you? For longer than five minutes? Seokjin thinks he’ll pass out if you get any closer to him.

“How’s the leg?” you ask him, leaning over until your face is right next to his. Seokjin forces himself to look away with a blush, grumbling about how it’s okay. He wasn’t sure whether his leg or his chest ached more right now with the way you were staring at him.

“Let me take a look!” you say cheerfully, dropping to your knees, and reaching out to grab his calf, and Seokjin thinks he might throw up with the way he can see down your shirt, the soft white lace of your bra doing things to his head. He’d never seen someone more beautiful in his life. And you were taking care of him.

The next twenty minutes are pure torture, Seokjin holding his breath as you poke and prod all over his leg, stretching it in and out with curious eyes. At some point, he feels his pants start to become tight and freaks when he looks down and sees the beginning of a boner in his sweats. 

He coughs loudly, causing you to jump in surprise dropping his leg, and he immediately finds the nearest mitt and puts it on his lap to hide his unfortunate surprise guest. You smile up at him, rising to your feet.

“Your leg is doing great,” you tell him. “It should be all healed up soon, just in time for the playoffs. And then you won’t need to see me anymore.”

“Wait,” Seokjin chokes. He just met you! He needed you to stick around. Maybe you knew something about him, about what was going on. “What do you mean, ar-are you gonna leave?”

You cock your head curiously at him, and Seokjin shrinks into his seat at your intense gaze. Was he being weird around you?

“I’m not going anywhere,” you say softly. “I’ll always be here when you need me, Jin.”

Seokjin’s heart pounds at your words, and he shyly rubs at the back of his neck.

“Thanks! See you again—” he blanks when he realizes he doesn’t know who you are.

“___,” you tell him, raising your eyebrows up at him, turning to leave. “Seokjin? Next time you come to physical therapy, try not to be hungover, okay?”

He watches you leave with a dazed smile on his face. ___. Meeting you had been the highlight of his day so far. Despite how strange everything had been, he knew he couldn’t wait to see you again.

Seokjin catches the ball with an oomph!, shocked at how fast these players could throw. It’d only been a day since he found himself in this new body, and he’d stumbled home confused after his session with you yesterday, eventually caving and trying desperately to hail a taxi to take him back to the apartment. He sobbed in relief when he saw the strange woman was nowhere to be found, slumping against the door and finally allowing himself to breathe for the first time all day. Tears tracked down his face as he thought of how often he’d wished for this, the life he’d wanted so desperately finally finding him in the end.

Even now, as he tosses the ball back and forth, he’s unable to believe it. Him, the star batsman for the team he’d idolized growing up? He wanted to call his Eomma and tell her, but paused when he realized she probably already knew. 

“Something on your mind?” Jackson says to him with a laugh, throwing a curveball, and Seokjin feels his palm burn from the force of catching it.

Seokjin surveys the man who was the last person he remembered before everything changed, and wonders how they ever became friends. He wants to ask, but something feels uneasy about it – like Jackson would judge him for it. He would probably think Seokjin was clinically insane if  he even tried to bring up how he fell asleep thirteen and woke up thirty one day.

He wishes there was someone he could talk to, someone who got it, and that’s when he sees you waving from across the field. You’re dressed more casually today, in slacks and a soft-looking sweater, and yet you still manage to be absolutely stunning.

Seokjin feels guilty for staring at you so much like he’s a stupid thirteen-year-old with a crush on his teacher, but he also genuinely enjoyed spending time with you yesterday. Despite your annoyance at his “hangover”, you hadn’t taken it out on him with words as the others had; you went about the session as normal and treated him with kindness the entire time through.

Seokjin waves goodbye to Jackson, sprinting in your direction. He misses the way Jackson’s eyes follow his back, trained on the way you greet him with a smile, the two of you heading back into the dugout.

“Soooo, you’re a doctor?” Seokjin can’t help himself from asking, immediately feeling stupid when he realizes that he’s meant to have known you for a while. He couldn’t help it - you felt like the only real thing he could latch onto in this world, his mind running a thousand miles a minute as he processed all the new changes that had occurred.

“Yup! I studied sports medicine in college, then went to med school,” you answer politely, your tone giving no indication that you found him weird at all.

“That’s cool, you must be super smart, 7th grade bio is hard enough for me,” Jin laments, immediately realizing his mistake with a soft gasp. “Was. It was hard for me, you know, back in seventh grade.”

“Are you sure you’re okay Seokjin?” you look up at him, eyes filled with concern.

Tears prick at Seokjin’s eyes, the earnest tone of your voice giving him the push he needed to be honest. No, he was not okay. He wasn’t okay, and he needed someone to talk to, and he thinks that you, of all people, might be able to understand. After all, your entire job involved empathy.

“Something really weird is happening,” he confesses, watching you listen carefully to his words. “I don’t know what’s been going on, but the last thing I remember, I was sitting in my closet, and it’s like I’m in a weird dream. I feel like I skipped half my life – I can’t remember the person I used to be, or what my life was like at all. It’s like I don’t even recognize myself.” 

“I think I need help,” he continues. “I need help remembering who I was before. You’ve known me for a little bit, right ___? Do you think you could help?”

Seokjin thought he was onto something, but his heart drops to his stomach when he looks up and he sees you, face pale and lip trembling like you’re about to cry.

“I–, I don’t know if I’m the best person to help you with that Seokjin, maybe you should ask Jackson,” you respond, refusing to meet his eyes.

“Why?” he leans over to look into your eyes, shocked when they’re as misty as his own. “What happened, ___?”

Before he knows it, the vulnerable look in your eyes is gone, and you’re back to your normal, cheerful self.

“Hey,” you tell him. “Why don’t we pack it up for today? I’ll walk you back home to your apartment.”

“Okay,” Seokjin says, stomach still churning at the pained look you’d had moments before. “But can we get milkshakes?”

You smile at him, a look of fondness coming over you. You rise, beckoning him to follow you outside.

“I think we can manage that.”

The slurp of a straw interrupts your thoughts, and you look over to see Seokjin, eyes wide with delight as he drinks up the last of his milkshake, the whipped cream forming a mustache on his top lip.

You’re puzzled. The Seokjin you’d known before would have never agreed to hang out with you, let alone talk to you for an extended period of time. For as long as you’d known him, even in college, he’d been too arrogant for his own good, obsessed with letting everyone know the world revolved around him and him only. The man sitting in front of you is completely different, transformed in a way that didn’t even seem real.

The Seokjin that sat with you now seemed infinitely more unsure of himself, shy and hesitant in the way that only a child would be. You wonder what could have changed so suddenly. Coach hadn’t given you any reports about him undergoing head trauma in addition to his leg injury. 

“Thank you for the milkshake,’’ Seokjin grins, wiping the cream off his lips, and you hate the way your heart skips a beat at that. You curse yourself for the moment of weakness, even after all this time. 

“We went to college together,” you blurt out, not knowing why you chose to reveal this piece of information, given that he likely already knew it. “Me, you, and Jackson.”

Seokjin’s mouth gapes open, a shocked gasp escaping his open mouth.

“Really?” he says leaning in closer to you. “Were we friends?”

You furrow your brow in confusion. Had he really forgotten college? I mean it had been nearly a decade ago, and it wasn’t like life had drawn you back together until recently.

“Not really, you moved in a different crowd,” you chuckle. “Like not the nerdy, study in the library kind. More like the frat rager kind.”

“WHOAAAA,” Seokjin marvels in wonder, his voice filled with childlike glee. “That sounds awesome.”

“What if this isn’t just a dream? What if what I wished for actually happened?” he continues, softer this time, but you still pick up on it. 

Reaching a hand towards him, you pull away at the last moment, unsure why you were acting so wildly out of character with him. It was like the energy between you two had completely changed.

“Well, you got everything you ever wanted, then, might as well enjoy it,” you smile at him, heart fluttering when he gives you a sincere smile back, his cheeks puffing out with happiness.

“I have to run,” you get up abruptly, throwing your bag over your shoulder. “But I’ll see you at the gala tonight?”

“What gala?” he asks, eyes looking up at your curiously. Your stomach turns in disbelief. Did he actually not remember? Maybe his schedule was so busy he’d forgotten.

“The charity gala that I organized for the team tonight,” you tell him. “The one to raise money for medical care for athletes who’ve suffered a career-ending injury?”

“Oh! I’ll be there,” Seokjin says confidently, beaming at you. You give him a weak smile back, knowing you have to leave before you did something stupid and made the same mistake twice.

“Arrivederci, ___!” he waves, turning to walk in the other direction before he disappears around the corner.

“Au revoir,” you whisper back softly. 

Your life was completely different now, and there was no place for him in it.

Seokjin straightens his tie before stepping into his closet, perusing the many suit options he had. He wanted to pick his best outfit to impress you with tonight, but he was feeling overwhelmed with the size of the space, missing the days when his Eomma would drag him to Goodwill and they’d find the cheapest one that fit. 

He settles on a navy blue one, throwing the jacket over his shoulders, and pushing his hair up off his face, before taking a step back to look at himself in the mirror. 

Whoa. Seokjin still couldn’t get used to the way his body had changed, remembering the ugly duckling phase he’d been in the middle of before being transported here. He wonders if he was able to talk to a lot of girls now that he was more confident. Maybe he’d even had a past girlfriend that he didn’t know about. Maybe they’d even had sex.

Seokjin’s cheeks burn when he thinks about it, your face in the back of his mind. He imagines what it’d be like to kiss you, thinking about how soft your lips would feel. Why had the two of you never dated? Maybe because you worked together? Whatever it was, he hoped he could change your mind about it.

Stepping out of his apartment, he skips down the hallway to the elevator, giddy to be going to his first grown-up party. Well, not technically his first, but more like the first, he could remember. The elevator dings and Seokjin makes his way inside, a little boy his only other companion.

“Hi,” Seokjin says, but the boy just ignores him, looking at his phone. 

“I’m Seokjin,” he says, extending a hand that catches the boy’s attention.

“Jungwoo,” the boy says, looking hesitant as he accepts the handshake. “Why are you talking to me?”

“Why not?” Seokjin says, feeling confused. “We’re neighbours, right?”

“Yeah,” Jungwoo responds despondently. “But you usually ignore me most of the time.”

The way he says it makes Seokjin feel horrible inside. He would never purposefully ignore someone like that, not after knowing what it felt like as a kid. He wonders what the 30-year-old version of him had been like to warrant such a reaction.

“How old are you, Jungwoo?”

“I’m thirteen,” Jungwoo responds, and all of a sudden, the elevator comes to a stop, signaling their arrival at the ground floor. Jungwoo walks out without another word, Seokjin running after him.

“Wait!” he says sharply, watching Jungwoo turn to look at him in shock. “You should come over and hang out sometime, we can watch some baseball together.”

“Really?” Jungwoo says hopefully.

“Yeah,” Seokjin smiles, patting him on the back. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later!”

And Seokjin runs out the door, excited not only to have made a new friend but at the fact that it felt like this strange life of his was finally clicking into place.

The room spins around you, and you can’t tell whether it’s because the arm around you feels too tight tonight or because the music is boring as heck. You want nothing more than to sit down, knowing all the attention would be on you in a matter of moments, and the thought made you sick.

What made you even more nauseous was your partner’s maroon tux. Maroon. To match your navy blue. When you’d asked why he hadn’t worn the same color, his only response was: 

“Babe, this little thing isn’t that serious, right? It’s about the money.”

You excuse yourself, wanting to find some investors to talk to about how to contribute their generous wealth towards your aspiring fund, only to catch sight of Kim Seokjin in a corner, knocking back drinks with a giddy smile.

“____!” he waves you over happily when he sees you, taking your hand to pull you in close to him. “I can’t believe it’s 10:00 pm on a school night and I’m at a party, drinking pina coladas that aren’t virgin!”

Your jaw drops open when you see what he’s wearing. Navy blue - a smart-looking suit to match your gown perfectly, and you feel the back of your neck grow hot with thoughts you shouldn’t be having. 

“Glad to see you’re doing better now,” you giggle, and his smirk turns lopsided with glee at your kind words, its unintended effect being to cause butterflies to bubble in your chest.

“I’d be even better if they turned off this boring music,” he slurs contentedly, taking another drink from the server. “Why don’t they play some throwback tunes in here?”

“I’m not sure that fits with the sophisticated vibes needed to gain a corporate sponsorship for my cause, I’m afraid.”

“I’d donate money to you,” he says softly, his warm eyes twinkling from the numerous fairy lights as they meet yours. “Heck, I’d give you my entire paycheck.”

Setting the glass down, all signs of his previous tipsiness disappear as he regards you with a serious stare. You watch his cheeks flush, his gaze dropping to the low neckline as he sharply inhales, bringing his eyes back up to your face.

“Wanna go for a spin?”

You’re mesmerized by him, transfixed as you take his hand, the two of you retreating into a private corner of the ballroom, right by the open-air balcony. The cool breeze creates shivers down your spine as Seokjin pulls you close, his warm breath fanning against your face, and despite your best efforts to look past him and out onto the city lights, you find you can’t take your eyes off him.

It all feels too short, barely a minute of you swaying in Seokjin’s arms before the beat changes abruptly, Usher blasting through the speakers. You feel achingly empty when Seokjin’s hand leaves yours, but the smile returns to your face when a moment later, he begins head-banging and gyrating goofily to the new song.

“Now this is more like it,” he hollers, and you can’t help but join him the two of you twisting and turning until you’re laughing, out of breath and delirious with joy. 

The joy is cut short when another shadow looms over your meeting, pulling you into his arms.

“___, babe there you are! What are you and Kim doing hiding away in this corner?” Jackson pulls you into his side, and your stomach drops when you watch Seokjin’s eyes go wide with a mix of shock, and what you can only assume is pain.

“Sorry Kim, I know you get her for the PT during practice, but she’s mine for the PT after hours if you know what I mean,” Jackson grins, pressing a kiss to your hair.

Seokjin’s mouth remains agape, and you watch his eyes glimmer with realization as he pans to the thin band that adorns your left ring finger, finally noticing its presence for the first time.

A sharp squeal interrupts the tense moment between you, and you notice a woman in the tightest dress you’ve ever seen run over to Seokjin, nearly knocking him over as she wraps her arms around him. His entire body tenses up, and you want nothing more than to smooth over the hair that has fallen into his face.

“Baaabe, you’ve been ignoring me,” the woman whines, her nasal voice grating your ears. Of course. It’s Jennie Kim, model extraordinaire. Of course, she would be Seokjin’s date now – a match worthy of his striking looks and personality. 

“Who are they?” she says vapidly, taking in you and Jackson’s entwined figures.

“I, uh, these are, this is ___, and Jackson, coworkers, and friends from college,” he stutters, trying to unravel himself from her death grip. “And this is, uh, uhm…’

“Jennie Kim!” Jackson immediately lets you go to take her hand, shaking it furiously. “So nice to meet you!”

“Babe, we should get going,” Jennie tugs on Seokjin’s shoulder. “Don’t you remember we kind of had other plans for the night?”

“W-we did?” Seokjin stammers, and you decide you need to walk away, lightly tugging Jackson’s arm to follow you across the ballroom. Of course, he’d go home with her - she was beautiful, successful, and perfect. And you were just you.

“___,” you hear Seokjin’s voice behind you, yet you don’t want to hear anything he has to say. Jackson has left your side once again, going back to talk animatedly to Jennie, and you’re alone together once again.

“Should I go home with her? Jennie? Is it a good idea?” he asks, and you turn, meeting his gaze, which seems so earnest, so genuinely filled with concern for what you thought. Or at least that’s what your overthinking mind told you, kicking back into gear after eight years of wiping all thoughts of Seokjin from your memory.

“Yeah, you should,” you tell him honestly, trying to keep your voice as level as possible. “She’s your girlfriend, after all.”

Seokjin yawns, Jungwoo’s animated voice yapping away in his ear as the two of them walk down to the lobby together. His night had gone later than he expected - too much of it spent lost in the city streets as he’d run out of Jennie’s apartment, not expecting her naked boobs to be in his face the moment they’d come in. Her hands had been all over him, ignoring his suggestions of quitting to watch a movie or maybe even play a game of Monopoly.

“Girls are sooo stupid,” Jungwoo sighs. “Why don’t the ones you like ever like you? Why do they give all these weird signals?”

“Tell me about it,” Seokjin sighs, your face immediately coming to his mind, thinking about how you’d felt in his arms at the gala. Obviously, you’d looked beautiful, but underneath the dim lights, you shone in a way that he didn’t think was possible, one that made him feel very strange on the inside.

“Love is a battlefield, my friend,” Seokjin ruffles the kid’s hair before getting into his waiting taxi and waving goodbye. “Have fun with fractions! Remember, always divide by the number on the bottom!”

. . . 

Coach was furious. The team was failing, their chances of making the playoffs dismal, and he made that clear with how he ripped into them with the speech.

“You better shape up now, or this franchise as we know it will be over!”

“Maybe that’s what we need,” Seokjin blurts out, watching the entire team turn to him. “Maybe we need to get our asses handed to us. Maybe we need to actually experience loss to realize how much is at stake. Because winning is great and all, but don’t we learn more from our failures?”

The locker room is abuzz with chatter, Coach clapping Seokjin on the back. 

“I knew you wouldn’t let the hate get to you, kid,” he says, and Seokjin looks at him blankly, wondering what he could be referring to.

“ESPN?” Coach says. “That article they ran a few months ago about you being a slimy, unprofessional cheat just because you “injured” that player for the Cardinals? I knew it was all BS. I mean look at you, how could you hurt somebody when you’re injured yourself?”

Seokjin’s stomach sinks. He’d hurt another player? That was something he’d never dreamed of doing. He loved baseball, and everyone deserved to experience the joy of the sport, whether it was through winning or losing. That was what made a good player, not sabotaging others.

One by one, the players get ready for practice, Seokjin finally suiting up to go bat for the first time in a while. His sessions with you had tapered down as he recovered, and he couldn’t help but feel a bit sad. The more and more he thought about the life he’d always wanted, one as a star baseball player, the more awful it seemed. Being a grown-up wasn’t as fun as he thought - people were liars, cheaters, and just plain old mean. But you weren’t like that.

The bat slams against the ball with a satisfying crack, soaring out towards the far end of the field, and Seokjin prepares to run. But two voices behind him make him stop in his tracks.

“Can’t believe Coach is trusting Kim and his new weird-ass stunt,” Jackson seethes. “Like he’s really gonna help rebrand the team? All he cares about is himself.”

“Yup, the prick was the entire reason our last shortstop got traded,” Jaehyun, one of the left fielders, hisses. “Can’t believe Kim had an affair with the guy’s wife.”

Seokjin drops the bat with a clank, the entire team turning to look at him. But he doesn’t care, storming off into the dugout. Was this really who he was? A bully and a cheater? Being thirty no longer seemed like a dream, it was steadily turning into a nightmare. 

Storming through the dugout, he finally finds the door to your office, sighing heavily as he raps against it.

You open it within seconds, shocked to see his dejected figure standing in front of you.

“Wanna go for a walk, ___?”

“I can’t believe you and Jackson are getting married,” Seokjin remarks as the two of you walk, bringing up the proverbial elephant he’d wanted to ask you about ever since the night of the gala.

“Only a couple of weeks now,” you respond, wrapping your arms around you to fight off the chill, and Seokjin wishes he’d brought a jacket to keep you warm.

“Are you guys soulmates?” he asks, genuinely curious to know the answer. ‘Do you get butterflies when you’re around him?”

He knows that his question is loaded, that underneath it hides the depth of the feelings he’s managed to keep concealed for all this time, but he asks anyway, knowing the answer may hurt him.

“Nahh, I don’t really believe in that anymore. The last time I was crazy like that for a guy was in college,” you tell him, shrugging your shoulders.

“Why weren’t we ever friends back then?” he asks you again, feeling you come to a stop next to him, your heavy sigh permeating the tense air between you.

“Listen,” you tell him, and your voice sounds thick with what he thinks are tears, “Can we just please forget about it? It was a long time ago.”

“I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Seokjin knows he may not have any reason to apologize but he still wants to anyway. It seemed like he’d left a trail of destruction behind him wherever you went.

“Seokjin, no, please, you don’t have to apologize,” you grab his hand and give him a weak smile, trying vainly to reassure him, but his rapidly racing thoughts get in the way.

“I want to though,” he says back, his own voice cracking. “I mean, do you even know the kind of person I am, ___? I don’t have friends, I just use people, I slept with a teammate's wife, and I never talk to my parents. I’m not a nice person. And the thing is, I’m not thirteen anymore. I need to stop living in the past.”

And with that, he lets you go, ignoring your cries of protest as he runs away, his mistakes following him until he gets home. Closing the door behind him, he slumps to the floor, sobbing while he dials his parents' number.

It was time for him to make things right.

Seokjin stares down at the facade of the house he’d grown up with, the chipped paint and wide windows instantly soothing his heart. The train ride over had been brutal, his empty eyes watching the scenery drift by aimlessly, ignoring the giggles of the group of teenagers that sat next to him.

He wished he could tell them to stay happy and young forever, to continue living without a care in the world. Being a grown-up wasn’t worth it. Instead of bringing him the happiness and the belonging he’d craved, it only made him feel more alone, more empty inside than he’d ever felt as an awkward teen.

Stepping onto the porch, he reaches under the doormat, relieved to see his parents left a spare key there. It was like they’d been waiting for him to come home this entire time.

As he walks through the door, a chilling realization sets in. The house was empty. His parents weren’t here, they were probably in Korea. And all at once, Seokjin’s hope for coming back came crashing down.

Stepping out of his shoes, he leaves them at the door, sprinting up the stairs to his room. The door creaks open, and Seokjin lets out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

The bed is gone, replaced with a treadmill. The walls had been repainted, the floors redone. The lone thing that remained of his was the desk in the corner, all his belongings still on it. It serves only to remind him that his parents had always waited for him to come home, but eventually, they too must have grown tired of him.

A sob escapes him, and he realized he’d disappeared completely from their lives, not even bothering to keep up with the only people who’d loved him unconditionally his entire life. All of a sudden he feels nauseous, his stomach turning as he realized the fate the threads of time had woven him - a life of loneliness. One where he spent so much time garnering attention, only to be a forgotten soul anyway.

He rushes into the basement, the garish yellow walls exactly as they’d been seventeen years ago, and locks himself in the utility closet. Tears stain his face as he hiccups, slamming his head back against the wall.

“I wish I was thirteen again, I wish I was thirteen again.” But his pleading words fail to work this time around.

He doesn’t know how long he remains crumpled up in the closet, but he doesn’t hear the front door open. He doesn’t hear his parents pad down the basement stairs, umbrellas in hand until the closet door opens, light seeps in, and he’s met with their concerned faces.

Seokjin leaps to his feet, throwing his arms around them.

“Eomma, Appa, I missed you. I missed you both so much.”

.  . .

The rain patters against the window, and Seokjin turns over on the couch, watching it gently fall. After a bowl of his Eomma’s kimchi jjigae, he’d felt the most like himself he had in a long time, the two of them fretting over how thin he’d gotten. 

But now, alone in the living room, Seokjin felt like an intruder again. His parents were more used to living without him than with him.

Suddenly, his throat feels dry, the number of tears he’d shed today leaving him parched. He gets up, padding over to the kitchen, keeping his footsteps soft so he doesn’t disturb his parents. Flicking the light on, he walks over to the fridge, opening it to get the water jug out.

“Seokjinnie?” his Eomma’s soft voice comes from behind him. “What are you doing awake at this time?”

Seokjin should have known better than to get up in the middle of the night. His Eomma’s sixth sense had always been knowing when her child needed something. Within five minutes, she’s boiling some frozen dumplings and chopping up vegetables to make him food. 

He’s grateful for her attention, but his stomach churns with nausea. She may be the only other person he can talk to about this. Other than you.

“Eomma,” he interrupts her quiet concentration, and she looks over at him from the stove, her eyebrows etched with concern. “If you were given a chance, do you ever wish you could go back? Like to a different time?”

“I’d love to go back and take care of some of these wrinkles,” she chuckles, and Seokjin smiles along with her. Her face hasn’t changed at all since he was thirteen, still as youthful as ever.

“Yeah, but if you were given a do-over, let’s say, what would you change? Like if you made a big mistake,” Seokjin asks, wondering if having regrets was just part of growing older and whether there was still hope.

“Well, I don’t regret making any mistakes in my life, because if I hadn’t made them, I wouldn’t have known how to make them right,” she responds, a knowing twinkle in her eye when she sees Seokjin staring down at the food, failing to meet her eyes.

“I’m sorry I haven’t come home in a while,” he says, his voice heavy with regret. His Eomma reaches across the table, taking his hand in her smaller one, and squeezing it gently.

“You’re here now. That’s all that matters.”

“This doesn’t make sense, I’m not even good at baseball,” you tell Seokjin. “Why do you want to practice with me?”

Seokjin looks at you, strolling through the park with him in a cosy-looking hoodie and jeans. While your outfit may not have been ideal for baseball practice, the way he looked at you still sent your heart aflutter, and you wondered what it’d be like to wear one of his oversized sweatshirts.

“That’s exactly the point, ____, I’ve gotten too comfortable practicing with the team. I know their every move, but we need to step it up for the playoffs. That’s why I need someone different. Someone who can keep me on my toes. Someone like you.”

You cover your face with your hands shyly, palms out towards him, and that’s when he decides to launch a curveball. 

“OW!” you yelp. “Hey, I wasn’t ready for that!”

“Like I said,” Seokjin smirks. “I need you to keep me on my toes. Looks like you need me to do the same.”

The two of you toss around the ball for a while, your throws being much more unpredictable and much less powerful than Seokjin’s. Your ego inflated exponentially when you saw him miss a few, a smug expression on your face. When you look up at the sky, you realize it’s gotten dark, the sun beginning to set behind the trees.

“Hahaha, looks like the team might need a replacement pitcher soon,” you taunt him.

“In your dreams, ___, stick to helping people instead,” he laughs, immediately running towards you with a devious grin.

You squeal, running away from him, the two of you chasing each other through the park, your laughter echoing through the trees the entire way. 

Eventually, your legs tire, and you slow down, hiding behind a tree out of his sight. It’s all for nothing when you hear his footsteps thud on the running path behind you, his arms coming to wrap around you, sending the two of you toppling into the grass. 

“Ahhh, shit, that hurt more than it should have,” you groan, shifting onto your back. “We’re getting old.”

When you look up at him, your heart stops. Your heavy breathing slows as you look up at him, the stars from the night sky reflected in his eyes when he stares down at you, something hidden in their depths that makes your chest come alive with excitement. 

“Wanna know a secret, ____?” he laughs, stroking your wrist gently with his thumb, and you look over to see your hands intertwined. You hadn’t even noticed you were holding his.

“You’re the sweetest girl I’ve ever known.”

Seokjin’s plush lips descend towards yours, your breaths mingling for a brief moment before panic sets in, and you turn the other way, his kiss ending up on your cheek instead. You feel dizzy with emotion, immediately regretting the decision, knowing all you wanted to know was if his lips felt as soft as they looked. You’d been fooling yourself for so long, thinking your feelings for him had gone away.

You sit up, silence heavy in between you both, but you don’t leave, instead wrapping your arms around him and leaning onto his shoulder. He sighs contentedly, nuzzling against you, and the two of you remain there, watching the city lights twinkle in the distance.

“Ew, what do you mean you guys didn’t kiss properly,” Jungwoo looks at Seokjin from across his bed, five other pairs of young, curious eyes looking over at him. “Did she have cooties or something?”

“Stop it!” Soobin punches Jungwoo in the shoulder, earning a glare from the other boy. “You’re ruining the romance. Are you gonna ask her out, Jin?”

The baseball game in the background remains forgotten as the boys erupt with chatter, arguing amongst themselves about how to ask out a girl.

“I don’t know, guys,” Seokjin says dejectedly, wondering if the reason you’d only let him kiss you on the cheek was because you were engaged to Jackson. “It’s complicated with like, grownup stuff.”

“At least you have someone who likes you,” Felix groans. “Girls don’t exactly want to jump your bones when you’re a metal mouth.”

Seokjin jumps up at that, shushing Felix for even saying such a ludicrous thing.

“None of that, okay! We are young, and we are thriving. Love may be a battlefield, but we’re the Earth’s finest soldiers. So let’s get out there, yeah?”

. . . 

It’s finally here. The game that will make or break the Eagles’ season. And it’s also Seokjin’s first game back. The locker room is abuzz with tension and anxiousness, the players tripping around each other as they get ready.

In his cubby, Seokjin sits, and thinks. This was the moment he’d waited his entire life for. To be a star player, and to win a championship. Yet, in the grand scheme of things that had occurred, it was just another thing he had to do. He no longer faced the same anxiety he had during the day of the tryouts, wondering if he was good enough. He knew now that he was. That all of them were.

“Kim!” Coach slaps him across the back. “Speech please!”

Seokjin rises up and looks at his fellow men and teammates. He feels silly, giving a speech to them when he’s probably the lamest out of all of them, with thirteen-year-olds for friends and a hopeless crush on a girl. But then he remembers the words of that kid in the bathroom right before everything had changed. Hobi.

And he’d rather be original than cool anyway.

“I think,” he begins. “Over the course of the season, we’ve all forgotten that we have a reason for this. Baseball is our sport, and it’s our career, yeah, but there’s more to us than that. We have families, friends, and people we love and care about. We’re doing this for them just as much as we’re doing it for us. Because when we go out there on that field, and we put the love we feel for ourselves, and for everyone around us, into the sport that we play, we’ll be at our best. We need to remember what used to be good, and harness that.”

The whole dugout is silent for a few terrifying moments before there’s a clap from the back of the room. It’s joined by another one until the whole room is thundering in applause, and Coach is hugging Seokjin with tears in his eyes.

“Looks like that time off did you real good, kid.”

. . . 

Seokjin is the last one to leave after the victory, of course. He strips off his shirt, hitting the showers until all the sweat has dripped off his body, and now he pulls his workout gear over his head. The sound of a voice clearing behind him interrupts him, and he turns in surprise, seeing Jackson in the middle of the dugout.

“Hey,” Seokjin says. “Aren’t you supposed to go home? Isn’t ___ waiting for you?”

“Shut the fuck up, Kim,” Jackson replies, ice in his tone. “I know your entire little stunt, and I’m here to tell you it’s not gonna work this time.”

“What do you mean?” Seokjin feels his heart race at Jackson’s seething accusation.

“The moment this week ends, I’ll be married to ___, and I’m gonna ask Coach to trade me. You can’t have her this time, Kim. Do you think you can just bat your eyelashes and giggle and you’ll win the team over and get the girl? Nuh-uh. You’re still just a lame excuse of a person.”

Seokjin wants to protest, but he remains frozen, Jackson’s words causing his entire world to come crashing down around him. His lip begins to tremble, and when the first tear falls, he hears Jackson scoff, turning on his heels to leave. 

“You never stood a chance, Kim. Deep down, you’re still just that scared, uncool thirteen-year-old. Nothing’s changed, and nothing ever will.”

The week before the playoffs passes in agony, Seokjin knowing that Jackson knew about his feelings for you, and the fact that he’d be traded, and you’d go with him. He spends all his time in his apartment, talking with Jungwoo about what to do, he and the younger boy go through many pints of ice cream.

In the end, he calls the one he knows he needs to hear from the most.

“Eomma?” he asks over the phone. It feels good to tell her everything finally. She’d squealed in delight when he told her about you, telling him that Jackson was just being a quote, “butthurt dipshit.” “What should I do?”

“Oh Seokjinnie, only you know that. Just stay true to yourself, and all the answers will come your way, my boy.”

When he hangs up the phone, a notification pings on it, and he gasps at the headline.

“Jackson Wang traded from Eagles.”

In all his misery, he’d forgotten what day it was. He was almost out of time.

. . . 

The Internet was truly capable of modern miracles in this day and age, Jungwoo working his magic to help Seokjin find out the location of your wedding venue. Seokjin doesn’t even change out of his ratty sweats, throwing on his coat and running as fast as he can down the city streets, his phone overheating at how many times he ignored the maps function and changed direction.

Eventually, he comes to a stop outside the swanky hotel, strolling through the revolving doors and stumbling into the lobby. The finely dressed guests pay him no notice, and he manages to steal a bouquet of flowers, covering his face as he runs up the stairs two at a time, until he eventually finds your room number.

He knocks on the door, relieved to find it’s open, and that you’re alone. It must almost be time. You don’t notice him come in, too busy fixing your veil. A soft gasp escapes when you see him behind you in the mirror, disheveled and dripping with sweat, and you turn.

Seokjin thinks his heart might explode at how beautiful you look, your dress hugging every part of your body perfectly. But it’s more than that. Everything about you is radiant, glowing from the inside out. It’s like you’re the sun, and he’s the moon, your bright light complimenting his dim glow perfectly.

“Hey,” he manages to breathe out.

“Hi,” you whisper back, voice heavy with disbelief that he’s actually here.

“____, I know I’m not the greatest person, but I’m trying to be better,” he reaches for you, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, and your hand comes up to join his, eyes glimmering with tears. “And I’d like to think if you also believed that about me, maybe you wouldn’t be marrying Jackson right now. That maybe things could be different.”

You whimper, trying hard to hold back the tears, and Seokjin doesn’t want you to ruin your makeup, so he wipes them for you.

“I can’t lie to myself anymore,” you tell him. “I felt things for you over these past few weeks that I haven’t felt for eight years. But I’ve also realized over the past few days that you can’t just turn back time.”

“Why not?” Seokjin asks earnestly. He wants to believe, has to believe that there might be a way for it to work. 

“Because you made your choice, eight years ago in college, when I told you I liked you,” you respond, barely a whisper. “And you rejected me. I moved on and so did you. We’ve been going down different paths for so long, making different choices. And I chose Jackson.”

Seokjin feels dizzy, like the floor is about to collapse from underneath him. You’d liked him back then. And he’d been too caught up in his delusions to be honest with himself, to give you the chance that you deserved. And now it was too late. He knew growing up was about making mistakes, and learning how to deal with them, but somehow this mistake hurt more than anything he could have imagined.

“Don’t cry,” you say sadly, seeing his eyes fill with tears, mirroring your own.

“I’ll be fine,” he says with a weak smile, backing away. “I promise. I’m crying because I’m happy. I want you to be so, so happy.”

You reach around your neck, fumbling with the clasp of your necklace until it finally comes undone, putting it in his palm gently.

He looks down and chokes on a sob. It’s a tiny gold baseball glove. He’d never noticed it before. You close his palm around it, and he takes a step back, finding himself underneath the door.

“I love you, ___.” 

He has to say it before he goes, he has to let you know how he feels.

“I love you too, Seokjin. I always have.”

And with that, he leaves.

. . . .

Seokjin stumbles down the steps of the hotel, hyperventilating as he finds himself back on the street, the tiny gold necklace still clutched in the palm of his hand. 

He stumbles down the busy road, bumping into strangers, but not caring. All he could think about was the fact that you loved him back, and yet life was still so unfair. Seokjin felt stupid for even dreaming of this in the first place, realizing that dreams were nothing but a delusion. Things never turned out the way you wanted them to, the black and white of them always complicated by different shades of grey.

He finds an empty bench and sits down, clutching his knees to his chest like a child. Running his thumb over the delicate gold charm, he closes his eyes, wishing that none of this had ever happened to him, that he had just stayed thirteen this entire time.

He knew it was all for nothing, but that didn’t stop him from hoping one last time.

Seokjin jolts awake with a gasp, air burning his lungs and light hurting his eyes as the door to the locker is thrown open. His vision is blurry for a few seconds before it adjusts, and he looks up at his rescuer.

It’s a young girl, with a concerned look on her face.

“I heard you screaming, I live right next to the field. Are you okay?” she asks, and something about her seems familiar, but Seokjin can’t quite put his nose on it.

Looking down, he sees the dusty baseball mitt crushed in the palm of his hand, and running his tongue across his teeth, feels the metal of his braces, and his heart swells with joy. It worked! He was thirteen again. And now, he could finally start over.

“I’ll be fine,” he smiles at her, putting his glasses on. They rest crooked on the tip of his nose, but he doesn’t care. “Thanks for saving me.”

“No problem!” the girl reaches her hand out for him to shake. “I’m ___, by the way. I just moved here.”

Seokjin feels his heart stop, looking into your eyes, finding them to be the same ones he’d said goodbye to moments ago. Was this really true? Was the universe giving him another chance? 

Taking his hand in hers, he shakes it, beaming down at her. “Nice to meet you, ___, I’m Jin. D-do, do you maybe want to go grab a milkshake and hang out?”

Your dazzling smile hasn’t changed at all, as you nod your head and laugh, the two of you walking out of the dugout and into the warm afternoon sun.

“I think we’re gonna be best friends, Jin.”

Epilogue

Seokjin pants, breath coming out in gasps as he carries the heavy box up the porch steps. He slams it onto the ground with a thud, putting his hands on his knees and letting out a loud groan, the muscles of his back aching. When he looks down, his mouth parts in surprise, the box’s tape having split open, revealing the myriad of photo frames that would soon decorate your new home.

From just a brief glance, Seokjin can already see a few pictures that make his heart swell, a dazed smile on his face. There was the one of you two at prom, when he’d almost confessed after seeing how stunning you looked in your dress but chickened out at the last minute. There was another from your college graduation, the two of you with bright eyes and wide smiles, ready to take on the future together. Another one from a date night at a game where he remembers the two of you getting caught on the jumbotron and making out in front of the crowd. His halmeoni blushed when she saw the video on tv the next day. On top of them all, though, sits Seokjin’s most prized possession: the framed photo of your wedding, Seokjin in a navy blue suit, and you in your dress, surrounded by your friends and family.

Growing up, Seokjin had a lot of dreams. A lot of them revolved around being cool, becoming someone worthy of your love. It was strange, but he’d fallen for you instantly the moment you’d rescued him from the locker, but it had taken years of your friendship for him to make a move. He’d always been so scared that his nerdy thirteen year old self would follow him through the years, and that he’d remain someone you never saw as a life partner. But he was wrong. Because you’d fallen for him too, spending years hiding your feelings in the same silly way. The day he married you was the day he’d realized all his dreams had finally come true.

Your soft footsteps come up behind him on the porch, and he turns to see you looking at him with a curious smile on your face. The sun shines behind you, bathing your face in its soft rays, and Seokjin can’t resist, lifting you up as you squeal, kicking your feet and the two of you stumble over the threshold together.

“That was a lot more romantic in my head,” he chuckles, offering you a hand up. 

“Jinnie,” you poke his cheek. “Who’s gonna get the boxes from outside now, huh?”

Taking your hand in his, he pulls you further inside with him, wanting to cherish these precious moments with you. The boxes could wait a little longer. For now, he was excited to begin the rest of your life together.

“God, it’s fucking freezing,” you chatter your teeth, feeling Jin pull the blanket tighter around your  shivering bodies on the floor. “Why did the heater have to break right before we moved in?”

His warm figure pulls you closer into him until your bodies are smushed together, limbs entangled in a mess.

“Nothing wrong with a little body heat,” he whispers, and even though you can’t see his face, you know he’s smirking. 

You turn towards him, ignoring his soft ow! when you punch him in the chest, before burying your face in the crook of his neck. Your eyelids flutter, heavy from the fatigue of moving in all day, but the draft in the house causes you to shiver again in Seokjin’s arms. Looking up at your husband, you find his deep brown eyes focused on yours, his warm, gentle breath fanning against your face.

Seokjin’s fingers reach up to slowly brush a stray hair from your cheek, and despite the cold, you feel your body flush with warmth, bumping your nose against his accidentally before your lips meet Seokjin’s pillowy ones.

You’ve done this a thousand times, but every time feels like the first, Seokjin’s tongue tracing the seam of your lips before he bites at them, drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“Touch me,” you whisper against his mouth, and you feel Seokjin’s grip on your waist get tighter, his hands running up and down your sides until you’re shivering, but not from the cold.

He guides your hips over his, his right hand pushing you down against him until his hungry lips meet yours once again before they drop to mouth at your neck, sucking deep purple bruises into the flesh there, and you bite back a moan.

Seokjin detaches himself from your neck, eyes dark with arousal as he looks at the splotches and faint sheen of saliva on your neck, and you feel a wave of longing rush down towards your core, grabbing his hand that rests on your back and moving it underneath your shirt, cupping your breast in his hands before he squeezes.

From there, the two of you are frantic, fumbling with buttons and kicking your limbs until your clothes fly off, and you giggle at Seokjin’s pyjamas in the corner, the cartoon characters on them resembling miniature versions of your husband. Your laughter is cut off by a sharp groan when Seokjin’s teeth graze your collarbone, biting down lightly.

“You’re perfect,” he rasps, laving at the mark with his tongue. “Can’t believe you’re all mine.”

His fingers trace up your stomach, thumbs brushing against the underside of your breasts before he tugs at your nipples, and you whine, grinding down into his lap. You feel him harden underneath you, and you roll your hips on top of him again, nails scratching down the broad planes of his back. 

Seokjin flips you around, caging your body underneath him, his knee pushing up right where you need him, his tongue flattening against your stiff nipple, sucking and teasing the bud until it’s red and aching.

“Need you inside,” you bed him, your hips bucking against his knee while his hand slips between your legs, rubbing slow circles on your clit.

You feel the pressure in your stomach build, your movements stuttering against Seokjin’s fingers. It’s amazing, but it’s not enough, it’s never enough. You need to feel him.

“Look at me,” Seokjin whispers before he pushes himself inside of you, his eyes never leaving yours. You feel so unbelievably full, like you’re going to explode, body scorched with heat and nerves tingling in excitement.

He starts off slow, gently rocking into you, silently asking you if this is okay. His gentleness makes your heart feel like it’s going to explode, the moonlight shining on his skin and bathing him in the softest glow. You feel lucky that he’s yours forever. 

You meet his thrusts with circles of your own hips, your back arching up off the blanket as you moan for him to go faster.

“This okay, babe?” His thrusts speed up, snapping into yours, and you’re unable to do anything but slur yes, your voice ringing in your own ears, your moans mingling with his soft groans as the two of you move in tandem, lost in the feeling of each other. 

You grip his shoulders tightly, a string of curses exploding from your lips as the pleasure washes over you, your vision going white.

“Come for me ___,” Seokjin’s deep growl has you hurtling over the edge, trembling as you fall apart underneath him. You whine in oversensitivity when he continues moving inside of you, squeezing his hand until he collapses on top of you, his warm cum spilling into your wet heat.

“Fuck,” Seokjin groans, burying his face into your neck. “My back is gonna be so sore when we wake up.”

“Can you believe we’re here?” you ask him, looking into his eyes. “Married, with our own house? We’re so old now.”

You mean it as a joke, but Seokjin presses a kiss to your forehead, his sweaty arms wrapping you up in a tight hug.

“There’s no one I’d rather grow old with,” he smiles, before his expression turns mischievous. “Now, since we can’t sleep anyway, what do you say to getting some milkshakes, Mrs. Kim?”

“That sounds like a great idea, Mr. Kim.”

A/N pt 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

#bts #btshoneyhive #bangtanbathhouse #collab: catch of the century #bts fanfiction #bts smut #bts reactions #bts scenarios #bts imagines #bts au #bts fic #bts fanfic #bts imagine #bts fluff #bts angst #seokjin #kim seokjin #jin #seokjin x reader #seokjin x you #seokjin smut #seokjin fluff #seokjin angst #jin fluff #jin smut #jin angst #seokjin fic #seokjin imagine #jin fic #jin imagine

[a-local-idiots-shitpost]

Mc get´s kidnapped by Angel fanatics also Solomon get´s a part

I´m very creative with my titles (sarcastic) also should be obvious but Luke´s part is strictly platonic

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Simeon:

so both of you were just walking around when weirdos clad in white kidnapped you

this was a confusing scenario but he actually didn´t try to find one you always find your way home and two you can handle everything that is thrown at you

and just like he thought you appeared a couple of hours later standing in front of the Purgatory Hall building covered in blood

Simeon just scolded you for covering the entrance hall in blood again, this happened so many times that he´s thinking of banning you from the house

but for now he´s excusing you behavior because he was actually worried about you and just wants to spend time with you

Luke:

do these guys even know the Angel they are trying to meet is a literal child?

like hell you´ll allow these weirdos to bother Luke, they already scared him enough with just taking you away in front of the poor guy

if Luke get´s nightmares because of them Simeon would ruin their life, if you don´t kill them yourself of course

and sadly they aren´t so smart as to jut let you leave and keep living

for a Human to have caused this it was a pretty gruesome sight, but hey we are talking about a Human who has pacts with the Seven Rulers of Hell and enjoys living in the Devildom

before getting back to Purgatory Hall you changed your clothes no need to worry the child more than necessary, but not before texting them and saying you are alright and back

afterwards you, Simeon and Luke just did a puzzle together and poor Luke was so worried he didn´t want to let go off, he even promised if he ever sees those people again he will give them a stern talking on why such actions are bad

Solomon:

you honestly don´t know if this was the Sorcerer´s associations idea or if Thirteen manipulated them

anyway they decided to take you away from Solomon with the words they are saving you from him

which everybody knows is them trying to save you from his cooking, which honestly was incredibly nice for them usually it´s every Human, Demon and Angel for themself

and good for them you managed to calm everybody down because Solomon was ready to just march in there and take you by force, no one but him is allowed to monopolize his favorite (and only) apprentices time

for you it was nice in the Sorcerer´s association they thought you forbidden Magic and some to protect you from Demons and other creatures trying to harm you and they just threw Solomon out after everything calmed down

he might have been allowed to stay if he didn´t offer to make cookies

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me imagines #obey me headcanons #obey me! #obey me solomon #obey me simeon #obey me luke

[jazzthatonewriterchick]

Here, Kitty, Kitty (18+ Fic)

Pairing: Aizawa x Black!Catgirl!Reader

Synopsis: In which you find yourself in the weirdest predicament after you’re scooped up and taken to a cat cafe after you decide to take the streets to fight some crime, and you’re adopted by your very anti-social and hot coworker Aizawa aka Eraserhead.

Story Warnings: Smutty smut, 18+ (MINORS GET AWAY), Swearing, Adult!Reader, Ear and Tail Stroking, Light Degradation, Spanking, Exhibitionism, Multiple Positions, Creampie, Unprotected PIV Sex, Facial, Scent Play, Collaring, Deepthroat, Cunnlingus, Begging, Edgeplay, Power Play, Rope Play/Shibari, Master Kink, Some Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Some Action

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!

Writer’s Note: I'm gonna try to finish this fic before the end of June cuz I'm gonna be soooo busy with my summer job & packing for my cruise. BUT we'll see! Stay safe! -Jazz

Read on AO3 here!

Other Chapters: One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen. Twenty. Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three. Twenty-Four. Twenty-Five.

*************

SEVENTEEN.

As you walk down the hallway to UA one Monday morning, you have a pep in your step and a sway in your hips that are only accomplished by good sex. 

It is the Monday right after the weekend and you are 100% ready to see Aizawa today. You didn’t get a chance to see him on Sunday due to your schedules for the day not matching up, but he did text you and specifically stated that this weekend was the best he’s ever had with you. His words had you blushing and biting your lip like a schoolgirl with a crush. 

And you did have a crush on Aizawa. Bad. You couldn’t get what transpired between you last weekend out of your head, let alone how it made you feel. The sex flashbacks that randomly pop up throughout your day have you squeezing your thighs together and fanning yourself when no one is watching. You desperately wanted to call Aizawa over Sunday for a bit of privacy before getting back into the swing of work, but you knew better than to do that. He needed his time to relax with his daughter, after all. 

Which is why you visited him last night in your cat form, which has become a usual occurrence now. He was happy to see you as usual and let you snuggle with Eri on the couch while he whipped up dinner in the form of spicy ramen. “I want you to eat all of it because you begged me to make it,” he told Eri as she excitedly took her bowl to the couch, making you giggle on the inside. 

The Sunday night went on peacefully, ending with Eri taking a bath as you watched her from the floor, bursting over how cute she looked singing Disney songs as she scrubbed behind her ears and tossed you balls from the water to play with. You had cuddled with her for a while as she slept hours later in her bed before moving to the living room and sleeping at Aizawa’s feet as he slumbered on the couch. You were beginning to feel like you belonged with the duo. 

Like one happy little family. 

When you walk through the first floor of UA towards the elevators, it is impossible for others to not see the confidence radiating off of you. Though you’ve always felt good in your clothes, everything on you seems to feel much better today. The pretty, rose-colored dress you chose for today’s outfit feels amazing on your skin and body. The flats on your feet seem sexy to you. The soft makeup and hairstyle you styled at six in the morning today make you feel just like a model. 

To you, you are the sexiest woman to walk the earth, and you have only one person to thank for making you feel like this. When you press the button for the elevator to take you up to the sixth floor, you don’t expect to come face to face with the same man that has been invading your dreams this weekend so early in the morning. The man looks damn good. Even in his tracksuit and scarves which are his regular attire, he looks good. He stands tall with his shoulders back and a confident aura radiating off of him despite how tired he looks. 

“Oh, Mr. Aizawa!” you cheerfully greet him, your heart leaping at the sight of him. “Good morning!” When his charcoal eyes land on you, they widen an inch and they only boost your confidence even more. ‘That’s it. Look at me.’

His pink tongue jets out to quick wet his pillowy-soft lips, sending your mind careening to things unholy. “Good morning, Ms. L/N,” he replies, your last name sounding like sex on his lips. Only you hear the low growl in them and it makes you hot. 

Unfortunately, you can’t flirt with him as much as you want to or pounce on him as soon as the elevator doors close because one of the janitors is in there too. “Good morning, Mr. Tokoma,” you sweetly say despite your pussy weeping in disappointment. 

“Good morning!” the older man replies, tipping his janitor’s hat at you. “Don’t mind the vacuum. She won’t bite ya.” He shimmies to the left of the elevator cart with his vacuum, making room for you. You thank him and enter the elevator. After finding the sixth-floor button to already be lit, you shimmy behind the janitor to take Aizawa’s side. 

When the elevator doors close, the air is tense and thick with a desire that only you and Aizawa can feel. Feeling him next to you and constantly breathing in his cologne is driving you insane. Though Mr. Tokoma has no idea about your building horniness, you wished to God that he never decided to take the elevator this morning. It takes everything in you to not reach for Aizawa just to feel him, but you keep your hands firmly at your sides. 

Aizawa, in contrast, doesn’t. When you suddenly feel his hand brushing against your tail, you nearly gasp. Though his touch is soft and slow, it sends every nerve in your tail into a frenzy. You have to bite your lip to keep from moaning as he slides his hand from the base to the tip, gliding his fingers across the soft fur. 

He is then behind you, as quiet as a church mouse. He barely makes a sound as his fingers leave your tail and begin to lightly trail up your thigh. 

Mr. Tokoma sighs, wiping the back of his neck. “Thank goodness for the AC,” he sighs, popping the collar to his janitor uniform. “Warm outside today.” Aizawa’s fingers sneak up your dress to your inner thighs, prying them open. It is just enough to brush against the outside of your panties. “Y-Yes,” you stutter out. “Very…very…hot.” 

Aizawa softly chortles at you losing your shit as he begins to gently stroke you through your panties right in the elevator. If Mr. Tokoma were to turn even slightly to the right, he would be able to see this unfold for himself. Aizawa continues to nudge at your clit with his fingers, making your toes curl in your shoes as sparks of pleasure shoot through your core. 

“Might wanna relax yourself, kitty,” he whispers into your ear, low enough so only you can hear. “You might catch some eyes.” And then his fingers are sneaking under your panties to press against your naked pussy lips. You gasp but mask it with a yawn as his fingers dip in and out of your pussy, slow and teasing. You could kill him for this shit but dammit, it feels good! 

When the elevator dings for the third floor, you jump and instinctively clamp your thighs together, causing Aizawa’s fingers to become trapped between your inner thighs. “This is me,” the janitor says, giving you both a friendly smile, not even noticing Aizawa’s fingers playing under your dress. “Have a good day, you two!” 

“You too, Mr. Tokoma,” Aizawa says, and you plaster on a smile as the elevator doors begin to close. Finally, it’s only you two left, much to Aizawa’s liking. As soon as you’re left alone, he’s ripping his hand from under your dress and pouncing onto you like a jaguar finally let out of his cage. He swiftly pushes you against the wall and traps you between himself and the wall before pressing a toe-curling kiss onto your waiting lips. 

You moan appreciatively into the kiss, dropping your bag to the floor and throwing your arms around him. He presses his hips snuggly against your groin and begins to grind into you, giving you a taste of his hardening dick. With every roll of his hips, he grinds against your clit, making your body shiver and shudder in pleasure. He pulls away from you and slams a hand against the wall above you, still grinding down into your clit like he’s trying hard to make you both cum. 

“S-Shouta, baby,” you gasp, your hands grasping his shoulders. “Wait…someone could come in and–oh, fuck!” He suddenly rolls his hips to the right, brushing against a spot of your clit that makes you see stars. “Just keep your voice down,” he whispers against your lips. “No one takes the elevators this early in the morning. I’ll make sure of it.” 

Before you can respond, he’s leaning over to jam on the button to pause the elevator ride. The elevator suddenly stops moving, leaving the two of you to do as you please. Aizawa’s attention is all on you now. He hikes your leg up on his hip and continues to grind his dick against you, becoming harder by the second.

“I’ve missed you so much,” he growls into your neck. “You’re all I fuckin’ think about now. Can’t even focus on work because of you.” You whine in desperation as you feel the pleasure building. You can’t believe this is happening in an elevator at work. It’s so wrong, yet it feels so, so right. 

Suddenly, Aizawa pulls away and stares dead into your eyes as his fingers fumble for the zipper of his tracksuit. He yanks it down, revealing the wifebeater underneath that is tight on his upper torso and briefs that are even tighter on his hard, throbbing cock. “Look at me,” he says, his voice strained with need. “This is what you do to me.” 

Your eyes flicker down to his cock and you find yourself salivating for it. You’re fiending for him and his cum. You don’t care how you get it. You just want it now. Quickly, you drop to your knees in front of him and go for his briefs. “What are you doing?” he asks, mortified, quickly pushing your hands away. “No, no, Y/N, don’t.” 

“Shhh,” you shush him, staring up at him with a sexy smirk. “Just keep your voice down. Nobody is takin’ the elevator this early, right?” He doesn’t stop you as you pull down the band to his briefs, freeing his hard dick for your enjoyment, but he doesn’t look particularly glad about this. “I don’t–fuck!” 

His sentence is cut off with a long moan as you wrap your hand around his cock and begin slowly stroking him. You spit a generous amount of saliva onto his shaft, loving the way it shines as you stroke it over his dick. Once he is generously lubed up, you wrap your lips around him and begin to softly suck him off. “I’ve been missin’ this dick in my face,” you moan, continuing to swirl your tongue around his swollen cockhead. 

You treat him like your personal lollipop, loving the taste of him. You don’t tease him for too long, worried you’re running out of time. So you begin to take him into your throat, making sure to open your throat and breath through your nostrils as you give him neck. He is loving it. Labored breaths and soft moans leave his lips as you give him throat, gagging all over his cock. “Oh, my God, Y/N,” he groans, his gorgeous eyes rolling to the ceiling. “You’re so fuckin’ good at this.” 

The praise eggs you on and you go faster, desperate to get him to that point of no return. No matter how much your knees ache and your throat burns, you continue to deepthroat him, stroking him in time with your sucking and head bobbing. Saliva drips down your chin and his heavy balls, creating small pools on the elevator floor by your knees. 

You can tell Aizawa is getting close when he begins to grip your hair and thrust his hips into your mouth. You welcome it, stretching your mouth out wider. “Just like that,” he huffs out, gripping your hair tighter. “Just like that, kitty, and I’mma cum. Keep goin’...so close…” 

You hum in encouragement, bobbing faster and faster, the wet sounds of his thick cock stroking your throat getting louder. You want him to cum deep down your throat. You want to taste all of him. His hips begin to slam against your mouth as he chases his orgasm, his grunts and moans growing more urgent. 

“Cumming!” he grunts out. “I’m cumming! Take all of it, kitty!” 

And you do. Once he lets out a low moan of your name and bursts in your mouth, you take every single ounce down his throat. You don’t have a choice. His head firmly holds you there on his dick, forcing you to take every single pump of his creamy nut down your throat. But you gladly swallow what you can down despite his dick still in your mouth. 

When he finally finishes, he releases you with a soft groan and composes himself while you begin to clean yourself up. You swallow the rest of his cum before licking your bottom lip where some of his nut dripped. “That was amazing,” he sighs, smiling down at you as he puts his dick, wet with your spit, back in his briefs. You giggle at him, happy with the praise and feeling just as satisfied as him despite your soaked panties. 

You don’t have much time for kissing and aftercare, especially when the elevator begins to move again. You gasp, quickly rising from your kneeling position while Aizawa goes to press the button again. But it’s too late. The elevator dings, signaling the arrival of a new floor. “Oh, shit!” Aizawa gasps as the elevator doors abruptly open. You immediately jump away from him and attempt to wipe your mouth of any essence of Aizawa’s cum. 

The doors open to reveal a very cheerful Mic holding a cup of coffee. “Hey, guys!” he greets as he walks into the elevator, oblivious to what just transpired between you. He shimmies between the two of you, not at all noticing Aizawa zip his tracksuit and you give your hair. “You guys try the new oat-milk latte they opened at the coffee bar?” he asks. “It’s amazing!” 

You clear your throat and sneakily pull down your dress to avoid flashing your friend. “No,” you breathlessly answer. “I’ll have to try it though. I do like a good dose of milk in the morning.” 

Aizawa side-eyes you, and you have to cover your mouth to keep from giggling. 

***********

You’ve never seen a child be so excited over plushies the way Eri is. 

You’ve been watching the girl run around the arcade for the past twenty minutes now, going from one crane game to the next. She tends to gravitate toward those that hold anime plushies and stuffed animals, beginning Aizawa to cough up more money for tickets. “Pleeease, Daddy?” she whines to him now, giving him big, puppy dog eyes. “Just one more crane game and I’ll go play something else!” 

Aizawa isn’t phased. He stares down at her with a tired expression on his face. “You said that twenty minutes ago and so far we’ve played six crane games.” 

“But we haven’t won anything!” the little girl whines, fiddling with her yellow sundress that match the hairbands in her pigtails. She looks so darn cute! You couldn’t help but gush over her when Aizawa picked her up for your lunch date today during break. “I promise I’ll go play Luigi’s Haunted House or one of the PacMan games next time!” she continues to bargain. “I just want the Hello Kitty! Look, she’s in a All Might outfit!” She turns to point at the Hello Kitty cosplay plushie behind the glass box of the crane game she’s got her eyes set on. 

“You used up all your tickets, Eri,” Aizawa sighs, hands on his hips. “How are you gonna play if you don’t have any tickets? And we still need to eat.” Eri just continued to whine and bargain with her dad, making you feel just as exhausted as Aizawa feels even though you’re just sitting at a nearby table with your club soda. 

Aizawa had told you he had a feeling that Eri would lose her mind in an arcade, even opting to just take you for ice cream or to Koa’s Purr Palace for lunch. However, Eri had insisted on the arcade and you agreed, wanting to spend some time with the both of them out of your cat form for a change. So far, it’s been fun watching Eri be the cutest little kid ever and Aizawa try to tame her chaotic self, but now you feel bad for the single dad. He’s obviously tired from watching over the UA crew all day during classes. 

Deciding to give him a break, you stand from your seat and walk over to the adorable duo. “Hey, Eri,” you say, bending down at eye level to the little girl. “Why don’t we give your dad a break and I try this time?” You begin to pull out your wallet from your tote bag. 

Eri’s eyes light up like Christmas trees as you do. “Really?!” she squeals excitedly, stomping her light-up sneakers around. You nod and slip her $10 for ten tickets. “Go on over to the front desk and get ten tickets for us,” you whisper to her with a wink. “I promise I’ll getcha that Hello Kitty plushie. Then we can play some PacMan.” 

You’ve never seen a kid look so happy before. Eri’s smile is contagious as she throws herself at you, wrapping her little arms around you tight. “Oh, thank you, thank you, thank you, Ms. L/N!” she cheers before racing over to the front desk, her pigtails flopping about.

When you stand up, feeling good about yourself, Aizawa sneaks an arm around your waist. “You know you didn’t have to do that,” he sighs, sounding guilty. “That was your money. I wanted to treat you today.” 

You twist around to face him and throw your arms around his neck. “You can treat me to pizza and sodas once I win this plushie for her,” you giggle. “Plus, I wanted to get her out of your hair. You looked like you wanted to stuff her in one of those crane machines.” 

Aizawa smirks humorously at your dark humor. “She’s just excited. I don’t think I’ve ever brought her to an arcade before.” He looks incredibly guilty about this which breaks your heart. You hope he knows that he is a good dad. Everyone who knows about Eri can see it, including you. He is attentive, loving, and nurturing while also stern–all of what a great father should be. It’s enough to make you almost want to have a baby with him too…almost. Or maybe that’s just your breeding kink speaking to you. 

“Thanks a lot for accommodating,” he says, pecking your chin. “I know that this isn’t the ideal lunch we had in mind for today.” He had wanted to take you out to a cafe for lunch today, one where he could count on you having privacy. However, Mirio having track practice and Shinso needing to study for a test meant Eri needed to be watched after. 

“It is for me,” you coo. “I love spendin’ time with you two. I wouldn’t want to spend my break any other way.” And you mean that from the very bottom of your heart. 

Aizawa’s gaze darkens, filling with something less than kind as he grips you to him. “Keep talkin’ like that and I’ll knock a screw loose in that bathroom over there,” he growls into your ear. His eyes flick across the arcade to the women’s bathroom. “You know I’d do it too.” 

You nearly choke on a gasp as you feel his hand sneak to your ass. “And leave your daughter alone out here?” you gasp with laughter to hide your arousal. “What kind of father are you?” Aizawa opens his luscious mouth, no doubt to say something dirty, but Eri’s sudden appearance makes him stop and tear his hand away from your butt. 

“I’ve got the tickets, Ms. L/N!” she excitedly announces. She waves the string of gold tickets around and you applaud her. “Alright then, let’s go!” You take her hand and walk over to the crane machine where the Hello Kitty plush among other cute plushies lies in wait. “I’m gonna need all of your power to help me with this, okay?” you tell Eri as you push the ticket into the slot. She vigorously nods and squeezes your hand while Aizawa chortles behind you, adoring this scene. 

The crane machine comes to life, lighting up and playing music. You bend down towards the controller and grip it, your eyes set dead on the metal claw hanging above the plushies. You move the claw to the far back and slightly to the left, hovering right over the Hello Kitty plushie’s head. Your eyes flick toward its arm, noticing that it’s sticking out. Slowly and methodically, you lower the claw towards the hand and press the button to lower it down. 

When the claw snags the plushie’s arm, you feel your heart leap. “You’ve almost got it, Ms. L/N!” Eri encouragingly shouts. “C’mon, you can do it! I believe in you!” She squeezes your hand for dear life, nearly crushing your fingers. 

With your other hand on the controller, you carefully move the claw holding the plushie toward the opening that leads to a hole in the machine. The plushie doesn’t slip an inch during its travel. Once you’re above the opening, you press the button to open the claw and release the plushie down into the hole. “I’ve got it!” you shout, just as excited as Eri. The squeal she lets out could break windows. You retrieve the soft Hello Kitty plushie for her and she hugs it close, squeezing it to her tiny body. 

“Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she shouts, wrapping her arms around your waist. You bend down to hug her back, adoration flooding inside of you. “Alright, alright,” Aizawa chuckles, settling her down. “Now let’s get some victory lunch.” 

Several minutes later, you and Aizawa sit at your table with two big slices of pizza and iced Cokes for lunch that he paid for (he refused to take your money). Eri already gobbled her hotdog down and is currently playing one of those driving games. Aizawa had to pick her up and place her in one of the cars because she was too short to get in one. She sits in a pink car now with her plushie, giggling as she steers the wheel this way and that. 

“Thanks a lot for gettin’ her that plushie,” Aizawa says appreciatively. You wave him off as you chomp down on your pizza. “It’s the least I could do after earlier,” you reply. You flush at the memory; mostly because you still feel the ache in your knees from kneeling at Aizawa’s feet as you sucked him off in the elevator. “Did Mic suspect anything?” you timidly ask. “Y’know…about us?” 

Aizawa flicks his eyes towards you as he sips his Cofe. “Oh, he knows already,” he replies as if you just asked if the sky is blue. “There’s no way he couldn’t know, but he won’t flap his gums if that’s what you’re worried about.” He sighs, looking like he’s dreading something. “He’ll tease me about to hell and back though,” he mutters to himself. You giggle, picturing Mic making kissy faces at Aizawa. “That was absolutely amazing, by the way,” he says, lowering his voice so only you can hear the need within his words. “I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about your pretty mouth today.” 

You flush in your clothes and force yourself to clamp your thighs together. You do not need to be getting horny surrounded by children. You couldn’t stop thinking about earlier either. You’ve never done something like that in an elevator before, and the idea of getting caught turned you on more than you realized. Maybe it’s the man sitting across from you bringing the freak out of you. 

You smile at Aizawa, using your foot to nudge at his leg. The urge to touch him, feel him, is burning within you. But as you do, you notice the dark circles under his eyes and the way he yawns into his fist. You’re just now noticing how drained he looks. “You look so tired,” you worriedly point out. “Is everything okay with work?” 

He passively shrugs at your worry. “As okay as gradin’ papers and teachin’ classes back to back can go.” He takes your hand in his across the table, birthing butterflies in your stomach. “Did you maybe wanna come over tonight if you have time?” you ask, brushing your fingers over his knuckles. “You don’t have to stay, but maybe I could give you a nice massage to ease your stress.” 

“Fuck, you’re too sweet,” he groans. “I’d love to, but I’m afraid the police chief needs me for a mission tonight.” At this, you sit up a little straighter, your ears straight up at attention. He heaves a sigh, pushing his half-eaten pizza away. “I wasn’t planning on tellin’ you this because I didn’t want you to worry, but a new villain hit the streets. He’s more underground so it’s been kept under wraps, but his quirk is worrying the police department.” 

“What’s his quirk?” you wonder aloud, picking your own meal up from your paper plate. 

“They’ve dubbed it ‘transparency’,” Aizawa explains as you chomp on your pizza. “He can walk through walls and any kind of solid matter, including floors and the ground. He’s been poppin’ up over the past couple of months committing petty crime, but lately, he’s been committing serious felonies as paid hits, like assaulting and killing white-collar folks in the wealthier side of Musutafu. They keep a lot of that shit hush-hush though.” He pauses, sipping his Coke. 

“So why do they want you to catch him?” you curiously ask. 

“Because they trust me and know I’ve had experience with underground villains.” He shrugs. “It’s a blessing and a curse. Tonight, they suspect that he’ll show up downtown at an opera show because most of the city’s white-collar folks and elite congregate down there.” 

You pause, picturing him sitting among the rich folk in their seats, his eyes skimming over the audience shrouded in darkness for his target. “So they want you to go to the opera tonight?” 

Aizawa nods, not looking too happy about it. “With a suit and everything to blend in. They’re also giving me an earpiece to contact the police department, but I’m used to that.” You stare at him, picturing him in a nice suit and kicking ass all alone. The thought makes you feel almost sad rather than aroused. He notices and raises a brow at you. “What?” he asks, staring blankly at you. 

You begin to play with his fingers, adverting your eyes from his. “So you’re going alone?” you ask worriedly. “No one is going with you?” 

“No, but I’m fine, kitty,” he assures you. “You don’t have to worry about someone like me.” You still stare down at his hands, noticing the brush of healed cuts and bruises on his knuckles. “What’s with the face?” he asks, a laugh in his tone. You pull away from his hands to take a drink and begin to silently fumble with your straw, trying to think of a good way to ask him to let you come with him tonight as backup. 

He seems to already know what you’re thinking though. “Uh-uh,” he firmly says. “No. You better not be thinkin’ what I think you’re thinkin’, Y/N.” You look up at him, the brat in you taking the driver’s seat. “And what is that, Shouta?” you innocently ask. 

His expression is fixed and hard, not up for the BS from you. “You’re not comin’ with me to the opera. Not a chance in hell. This is a me job.” You roll your eyes at his pride. “C’mon, don’t go Bruce Wayne on me again,” you whine in protest. “I’ve shown you how good of a fighter I am time and time again, Shouta. I’m great backup!” 

He still looks resistant, his eyebrows knitted together in a permanent scowl. “That, you are, but this is some serious shit, Y/N. Underground villains are way more sneakier which makes them extremely dangerous and high-risk.” You cut your eyes at him, feeling irked by his attempt to sway your decision. “You think I can’t handle it?” you scoff, irked by the way he’s making you feel. “You think I’ll distract you?” 

The stare Aizawa fixes you with curbs your attitude somewhat, but you can’t help but feel like a little kid he’s lecturing. You don’t need that shit. You’re a grown-ass woman! “You know I don’t think that,” he firmly says, “but you’re not actually a seasoned or official hero either.” 

As right as he is about that (which you hate), you’re also the most stubborn bitch in the world. You won’t go down with a fight. So you push your food away and fold your hands under your chin, prepared for an argument. “Shouta, I literally helped you take down two villains with guns tryin’ to stick up an art exhibit with no problem. I think I can handle this.” You give him a reassuring smile that doesn’t thaw the ice encased in his eyes. 

“I’m not gonna get in your way or distract you from your mission, but you’ll need another set of eyes and hands–and, honey, I’ve got two of the best ones.” You flex your hand where your claws extend from your nails. You don’t even mention your heightened senses, which you’re sure he knows about and has taken into consideration. “Plus, this would be the perfect time for me to learn how to be more of an effective hero. You could teach me all about how to conduct myself on a mission!” 

Your words register across Aizawa’s handsome face, but he still looks hesitant. You know it’s for your protection more than anything. You take his hands in yours once more and press a kiss to them. “You always want to protect other people,” you softly say, “but, Sho, who’s gonna protect you?” He doesn’t respond. He simply stares at your hands in his, thinking to himself. 

“Just for tonight, Sho,” you promise. “That’s all I ask.” Finally, his eyes meet yours and you can see his defeat. He sighs, running a hand down his face. “God, damn you for bein’ so cute,” he groans exhaustedly. “Alright, fine, but you’d better know what you’re in for.” 

You grin excitedly to yourself, feeling accomplished. You couldn’t have asked for a better end to your lunch date. 

*************

That night, after a pep talk in the mirror and some mental preparation for tonight, you leave your dorm to go see Aizawa. 

You decide not to sneak out your window in your cat form, instead simply walking out of the faculty dorms with a duffle bag full of tonight’s attire. If anyone asks, you’re just going to Planet Fitness because they have more equipment. Just a little while lie to accommodate why you’re sneaking out so late at night in nothing but Nike gear and sneakers. 

You don’t walk out the doors immediately. You take some time to assess your environment and tap into your senses. You don’t hear or sense anyone coming, even after ten minutes of waiting. With labored breath, you quickly make your way out of the lobby and outside to walk across campus, your heart pounding against your chest. 

You’re just about to cross the threshold to the street when you’re spotted. “Stop right there!” a voice shouts from behind you. You jump, causing your tail to poof up and your ears to shoot back as you’re startled. When you turn around, prepared to scratch the stranger in the first if necessary, you find that it isn’t a stranger at all. It’s Nemuri in her silk nightgown and slippers with Mic right behind her. “Nemuri?” you question, squinting at her in confusion. “What are you doing out here so late at night? 

Nemuri puts her hands on her slim hips, glaring at you like an angry mom. “You know, that line is really meant for you, but I already know what you’re doing. Don’t you think you’re going too far with this, Y/N?”

You grip the strap to your gym back to you, biting your lip. ‘Just ask natural,’ you think. ‘Don’t tell them shit.’ 

“What do you mean?” you dumbly ask. Nemuri rolls her eyes, obviously not here for your innocent act, but Mic puts a hand on her arm to stop her from telling you off. He steps forward, taking his glasses off to give you a closer look at his concern. “We’ve been meaning to talk to you, Y/N,” he carefully says. “Nemuri and I both agree that this nightly activity has run its course.” 

Understanding his words, you are filled with sudden, hot anger. “You’ve been talking about me behind my back?” you hiss, irate. Mic blushes at your rage, caught like a deer in headlights. 

“Y/N, we’re just worried!” Nemuri exclaims, exasperated. “Look at you! You’re covered in bruises, we barely see you anymore, you’re taking off from work more and more, and not to mention you’re seeing Aizawa now.” You flush with embarrassment and shame under the moonlight, feeling like its silvery rays serve as a spotlight for you. “You still haven’t told him yet, have you?” Nemuri questions. “About this cat thing?” 

The sudden urge to cry bursts behind your sinuses. You don’t need this right now. You don’t need to be here getting lectured and criticized like a child. “Look, I’m trying, okay?” you sigh, pinching the bridge of your nose to avoid crying. “But it’s kind of hard to tell the man you’ve been pinning after, who also likes you back, that you’ve been sneaking into his dorm pretending to be the cat he adopted for his adorable daughter so she’d be less lonely.” 

Nemuri and Mic silently share a look of confusion. “Wait…what?” Nemuri asks, utterly confused. “We’re talking about you being Night Claw. What are you talking about?” 

Your eyes widen as the realization that you epicly fucked up hits you like an Amtrack train. “Shit,” you hiss, facepalming yourself. 

Nemuri stares at you like she barely knows you anymore. “Have you been using your cat form to visit Aizawa ever since the night he adopted you?” she asks, shocked. “Does Aizawa know you’re Night Claw already?” Mic looks between you both, clueless. “Wait, what happened?” he asks, lost. He stares at you, dumbfounded. “You can turn into a cat?!” he shockingly exclaims, gaping at you. 

You keep quiet, shaking slightly like a leaf in the winter because you’ve been caught in your lie. Nemuri fixes you with a hard, laser-like stare that peels back the mental armor you’ve been shielding yourself with for months. “Y/N, you’d better start talking now.” 

You growl to yourself, your shame winning over your pride. “Okay, okay!” you defeatedly shout. “Yes, he knows that I’m Night Claw and he was fine with it. And yes, I’m able to transform into a cat and I’ve been using it to my advantage when I’m out in the streets. One night, I got hurt and was picked up by this old lady who took me to her cat cafe.” 

“The Purr Palace?” Mic asks, squinting quizzically at you. “That’s Eri’s favorite place.” You slowly nod, staring down at your Nike kicks. “One day, Aizawa came in with Eri and he adopted me. I swear, it was only supposed to be one time and I was gonna tell Aizawa the truth, but…” You trail off as teas begin to well in your eyes. God, you’re so fucking stupid. 

“But what?” Nemuri pushes. 

You huff, roughly wiping at your eyes. “Things got complicated,” you confess. “I saw how happy I was making them and felt obligated to continue to role-play as their pet. Then Aizawa finally started talking to me and I knew if I told him the truth about the cat thing, he’d never talk to me again.” 

Nemuri curtly laughs at your confession which isn’t at all the reaction you thought she would have. “So this is all about you, right?” she scoffs, looking almost disgusted by you. “You’re keeping this from Aizawa because he wanna keep him.” 

“No!” you shout, then weakly backtrack. “I-I mean, yes, but this is about his happiness more than anything. I just want to keep him and Eri happy!” 

“By lying to them?” Nemuri demands. “I’ll admit, initially keeping the Night Claw thing a secret was sexy and mysterious until I saw how it was affecting you. But now I see that this wasn’t the case at all.” She crosses her arms over her ample bosom, fixing you with a disappointed stare that makes you grow even hotter with shame. “It’s bad enough you’re lying to Aizawa about the cat thing, but lying to Eri too? She’s just a child, Y/N! A very lonely and vulnerable one at that!” 

Anger starts to mix within the shame you feel, making one very bad cocktail. You glare daggers at Nemuri, pissed that she’s lecturing you over something you already know is pretty fucked up. “Okay, ladies,” Mic weakly says, moving to step between you. “Why don’t we just–” 

“Don’t you think I know that?” you bellow angrily at your friend. “That’s why I’m doing this. Aizawa adopted me so I could keep Eri company. It’s my job now, Nemuri!” 

“No, it’s not!” she angrily argues. “Your job is to tell Aizawa the truth. And if it’s not you, then it will be me.”

You gape at her, trying to decide if she’s deadass serious or not. “You wouldn’t,” you growl. But her intense stare says everything you need to know. She means this shit with her whole chest. “Try me,” she sternly replies. 

The white-hot anger takes over your body, causing you to not see Nemuri as a friend but as an enemy. And when it comes to enemies, cats only do one thing to keep them at bay: they hiss. And so when the urge to hiss comes, you let it come and burst out of you, shocking Nemuri and Mic as soon as the harsh sound comes out of your mouth. Nemuri gapes at you, astounded. “You…did you just…you just hissed at me!” she gasps, shocked at your behavior. 

You close your mouth and advert your eyes from hers, refusing to see the disappointment in them. “You know what?” she scoffs. “Fine. Go ahead and lie to yourself all you want, but when Aizawa finally discovers the truth and dumps you on your ass, don’t come crying to me about it later.” And with those harsh words hanging in the air, she turns around and swiftly walks back towards the dorms, her glossy curls bouncing behind her. 

“Nemuri!” Mic calls after her to no avail. She doesn’t turn around. She’s completely done with you and it makes you feel incredibly guilty. 

Mic turns around to face you and sighs. “I hope you make the right choice, Y/N,” he softly says, a soft sadness in his eyes that makes you feel even more guilty. Then, he too leaves you alone standing in the grass to softly cry. 

#shouta aizawa #shoutaaa #smutty smut #my fic shit #my works #here kitty kitty #bnha smut #black coded reader #black fanfic writer #black writers #aizawa x black!reader #shouta aizawa x black!reader

[willsimpforanyone]

For some reason I now have a desire for angst, so could you do a Jason grace x male or GN reader

Where Jason has just started to become too busy with quests and being a praetor(?) To camp Jupiter, and the reader just keeps trying to have a conversation with him until the reader just stops and accepts that Jason might not talk with them anymore.

(Note: only if you want to do this)

i can totally do that, sorry you've had to wait so long for your angst!

------------------------------------

I buried my face in Jason's neck. "Hey, I've missed you."

His arms wrapped around my shoulders, breathing deeply. "I've missed you too, baby."

Jason had been gone on a quest for almost a month, with no way to communicate with anyone other than the other people on the quest. I'd missed him so much it hurt.

There was a cough from behind us. Chiron stood, a little awkwardly. "Beg your pardon, but Jason is needed to debrief about the quest in the house."

I nodded, and reluctantly let go of my boyfriend. "I'll see you later, yeah?"

He kissed my cheek. "As soon as I'm done." He walked away with Chiron. Well, that's okay, I've spent weeks without him, what's an hour or so more?

It was six hours later and well past the time I should have been asleep before Jason found me looking into the campfire in the amphitheatre. He looked exhausted and I didn't look much better.

He sat next to me, and I wrapped an arm over his shoulders. "They kept you for a long time, huh?"

Nodding, Jason leant against me. "Yeah, they wanted to know every detail." He paused, but didn't say anything else.

I kept my eyes on the fire. "Anything else?"

He sighed. "Um, yeah, I have to go back to Camp Jupiter tomorrow."

I shifted to look at him, eyes wide. "Tomorrow? You've just come back, can't they give you a break?"

Jason gave a small, tired laugh. "Nope, I'm a Praetor, I kind of have to help run the whole camp." He already looked like he had lists and chores to do running in his head.

"But-" I tried not to feel selfish. "-but I've just got you back, it's not fair."

Jason shrugged. "You could come with me."

I considered it carefully. I could spend time with my boyfriend, get to experience Camp Jupiter, it would be cool. But I was the oldest in my cabin- the second oldest was thirteen, the youngest was six.

"I can't leave my cabin, Jas, you know that, I can't leave them the way so many of their parents left them."

He nodded. "Yeah, yeah, I know." Jason stood, and offered a hand. "We have tonight, though, you want to sleep in my bed?"

My heart jumped and I grinned. "Absolutely."

The next morning I woke up alone in the Zeus cabin. There was a note on the bedside table- 'had 2 go, love u - J'. Something cold settled in my stomach; there were several issues with the note, namely that he didn't wake me up to say goodbye.

I brushed off the feeling and shuffled to my own cabin to shower and get ready for the day. At breakfast, I wandered up to Chiron. "Sir? Can I ask you something?"

"You need not call me sir, dear boy, but yes." He turned his full attention on me.

I swallowed. "Um, did you ask Jason to go to Camp Jupiter early this morning?"

Chiron frowned. "No, I did not. Perhaps Reyna requested his presence, perhaps he decided they needed him more than we do."

That cold feeling grew stronger. "O-okay, thank you." I walked away, worried and slightly sick. Why would Jason leave so soon of his own volition? He'd just come back to me, he said he missed me. Did he?

In a slight panic, I pushed that thought away as soon as it came. Of course he missed me, he loves me, Reyna must be in trouble, something really important must've come up, he wouldn't leave me so soon otherwise.

It was a week before I saw Jason again. He came for a visit on official Camp business but I was happy to see him anyway. Or I was, until he greeted me with a quick kiss on the cheek and was swept away to discuss something or other. I was left behind. I felt silly, standing still and watching him walk away, lip quivering as I tried not to cry.

There was a tug on my jeans.

"Why are you sad?" Robert, my youngest brother, looked up at me with as much concern as a six-year-old can manage. I sniffed and put on a smile, lifting him into my arms.

"I'm sad because I miss someone, that's all."

Robert held onto my sweater with one hand and tried his best to wipe away a traitorous tear that had slipped down my cheek. "Why?"

I sighed. "Because I love him very much, and I haven't seen him in a long time." Robert nodded sagely as if he knew exactly what I was talking about. "Do you miss anyone, hm?"

Robert nodded. "I miss my big brother a lot."

"Yeah? Which one?"

He pointed at my nose. "You. Daisy says you are sad a lot and that's why you are asleep a lot."

More tears escaped my eyes. "You miss me, huh? I'm sorry, buddy, I'll try and be a better big brother, okay?"

"Okay. Can we go get a snack?"

"Sure, we can go get a snack."

I'd clearly been letting my feelings overwhelm me; Daisy was thirteen, she didn't need to worry about me as well as learning to live in this new world. I pushed Jason to the back of my mind for now, I had to look after my family.

It was another few weeks and conversations with my friends before I saw Jason again. He gave me a halfhearted smile and gestured to the house, as if to say 'what can I do? I have to go'.

I rolled my eyes and stepped in front of him. "No, you're going to talk to me, now."

Jason frowned. "I have to go debrief from a quest, babe, I have responsibilities." Babe? Really?

"No, we're going to have this conversation now, and then you're free to do whatever you want." That sounded final enough to me.

Jason shifted on his feet, glancing over at the Big House. "You sure it can't wait? I really have to go."

Fine. "You want it short and sweet, huh? Fine, can do." I crossed my arms, swallowing around the lump in my throat. "I'm breaking up with you."

Eyes wide, Jason looked like he'd been smacked in the face.

"W-what? You're breaking up with me? Why?" He sounded so surprised, like he hadn't been neglecting me for months now.

I stood strong, resisting the urge to smooth away his creased forehead and take everything back. I'd talked to my friends about this, I'd prayed to my godly parent, I'd thought long and hard about this decision, I couldn't let him sway me so easily.

"Because in the last 3 months, I've seen you three times, and only one of those times has been for longer than five minutes, Jas." I dug my nails into my palms, I was not going to cry. "It's been like I don't have a boyfriend, and I've been so upset about it that Robert said he missed me even though he sees me every day!"

Jason shoved his hands in his pockets. "Well, you could have come with me to Camp Jupiter."

"Oh, fuck you." I hissed. "I am at least four years older than anyone else in my cabin, I have a responsibility to them, I can't leave them just because the only way my boyfriend will talk to me is if I follow him around like a puppy!"

Jason opened his mouth, but I cut him off. "No, I don't want to hear your defence. I've been so wrapped up in feeling like you don't care about me that I forgot to care about me. We're done, Jason, we're done."

Without giving him a chance, I turned on my heel and walked away, tears welling up and stinging like acid in my eyes. I didn't look back, didn't hear him calling for me, prayed to all the gods that my cabin was empty. I shut the door behind me and slid down it, landing hard on the floor.

My prayer wasn't answered, my siblings were inside and watching something on my laptop. Daisy looked round, looking worried as I hastily wiped the tears off my cheeks. "You okay?" Robert wiggled his way out of the cuddle pile and over to where I sat.

"You're still sad."

I gave him a watery smile. "Yeah, but I won't been soon, okay?"

Robert cocked his head to one side. "Why?"

I hefted him into my lap, sending a comforting smile to Daisy and the rest.

"I won't miss him anymore."

----------------------------------------

thank you so much for requesting, i hope you enjoyed!

#jason x reader #jason grace x male!reader #jason grace imagine #jason grace #jason grace angst

[jerzwriter]

Thank you to @rookiemartin for this ask. I had to get creative with this! LOL Of course, the 100-word mark with me? About as likely to happen as Tobias not irking Ethan. lol I hope you enjoy this silliness.

Book: Open Heart (Post Series) Characters: Ethan Ramsey, Tobias Carrick Rating: Teen Words: 737 Summary: Ethan gives Tobias a lift home from work when his car is in the shop. But a quick stop at the grocery store on the way turns into chaos. A/N: Participating in @choicesseptemberchallenge2023 Day 22, Friends. Barely proofed this; I hope it's not too bad, peeps! Just a little fun.

The soothing sound of the automatic doors ushered Ethan and Tobias into the grocery store on this unseasonably warm autumn day. It felt like an oasis as the frigid air hit them, and Tobias groaned with delight.

“Goddamn, that feels good,” he growled, leading to peculiar stares from several customers in the produce and an eye roll from his friend at his side.

“Simmer down, Carrick,” Ethan warned. “It’s beginning to sound like our old Hopkin’s apartment.”

“Heh. It sure is. Is that Mr. Brightside playing?”

Ethan stood silently, straining to hear the music over the chatter, then nodded.

“Look at that, it is.”

“Jesus! When did music from our med school career become supermarket music? This is not acceptable.”

“We can’t stop time, Tobias, but we can age like fine wine.”

“Shit,” Tobias chuckled. “You don’t have to tell me, pops. I’m glad you’re finally on board.”

“Is this the thanks I get for giving you a lift home from work, including a pit stop at the store, after a sixteen-hour day?”

“All right, that’s fair,” Tobias smiled. “But let’s be real, you only agreed to stop at the store because I need to get some things for Sammy. You would have told me where to put it if it were for me.”

Ethan couldn’t contain his grin. “Well, my goddaughter is much cuter than you....”

“You’ll get no arguments from me,” the new dad concurred.

“I’m going to pick some vegetables for my salad,” Ethan informed. “ We can meet by the registers when we’re done.”

“Sounds good. I’ll be quick. I’d rather be looking at my beautiful wife and little girl than your mug. No offense.”

“None taken,” Ethan grinned as he began filling his cart. But a moment later, Tobias’s laughter filled the air.

“What?” Ethan groaned, almost afraid to ask.

“Nothing,” Tobias replied as he grabbed his phone from his pocket. 

Curious, Ethan began walking his way. “What are you doing? Are you taking pictures of fruit?”  

Tobias turned like a child caught with their hand in the cookie jar.

“Oh, uh...I... I’m just sending Casey a picture.”

Ethan stretched his neck to look at the subject of the photo and dragged a hand down his face with a sigh. “Are you thirteen?”

“Thirteen?” Tobias questioned while placing an erotically deformed peach and a well-developed banana into an even more questionable pose. “I think you’re being generous. I would have said eleven, twelve, tops.”

“Why are you doing this?” Ethan whispered.

“Come on? Don’t you see it? The peach totally looks like a....”

“I know what the peach looks like,” Ethan spoke loudly, drawing all attention their way. “What I don’t understand is why you’re photographing fruit porn!”

“I have to send it to Casey,” Tobias replied, almost insulted that the answer wasn’t plain as day. “If she was here, we’d be having a hoot with this... I don’t want her to miss out altogether.”

“Is this what the two of you do? Troll Boston area grocery stores to molest fruit.”

“Sometimes,” Tobias shrugged. “But if we’re being honest, it’s usually vegetables. You should see what we can do with a nice zucchini and....”

“STOP!” Ethan yelled. “I’m trying to fight it, but I’m starting to visualize!”  

“Mind out of the gutter, Ramsey! And what my wife and I do with eggplant and squash is none of your concern.”

“That’s it. You can walk home.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Tobias grinned. “I’ll stop.  Let me head over to dairy, and then we can get out of here, OK?”

“Sounds good,” Ethan said with relief when Tobia’s phone chirped.

“Oh, wait. It’s Casey.”

“Do you need to pick up something else?”

“No, she noticed that bulging gourd in the background of the last photo. Hey, could you just hold it so I can....”

Ethan turned on his heel, rushing away without saying a word.

“Hey, Ethan! Get back here!” Tobias hollered after him. “Come on, we don’t have to get the bulging gourd if you don’t want to.”

“For fucks sake,” he muttered as Tobias howled. “Somedays, I miss the serenity of the years when we weren’t speaking.”

“You know that’s a lie,” Tobias grinned, placing a gallon of milk in his cart.  “Now, wanna hit the small appliance aisle before we leave?”

Ethan was already at the express lane when Tobias finished the sentence.

“Too easy,” he chuckled. “Entirely too easy.”

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Other tags on reblog.

#choices fanfic #open heart #open heart choices #choices open heart #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #tobias carrick #playchoices fanfic #<100 - not happening lol

[greghatecrimes]

Easter Eggs - In the Dirt Chapter 3

Okay. I have so many of these that I threw in for funsies. I had to have something to keep myself entertained while PVP-ing writer's block for six months xD I'll post my favorites first, just since the list is kind of ridiculously long, lol.

First: the entire funeral section of the chapter is written with the same structure as the first chunk of chapter one. >:) ("Sticky counters under fingertips. The sharp tang of sweat and alcohol..." -> "The stifling scent of artificially perfumed flowers. A dusty Princeton funeral home...")

Now for narration and dialogue. Unless stated otherwise these are just meant to be parallels/nods that we the readers see, not that the characters are explicitly referring to within the story.

"I'm going to die. What difference does it make if it's when I'm still young and healthy, or if it's five years from now when I've lost the ability to walk? To talk?”: This one is meant to be a tonal parallel to Thirteen and House's argument in You Don't Want to Know. ("I might die. So could you, you could get hit by a bus tomorrow. The only difference is you don't have to know about it today, so why should I?")

"Oh, grow up.” House snarls, so sharply that Thirteen feels herself flinch. “It's the same for all of us. Everybody dies. You know damn well that none of us get to do it with any dignity.”: HNNNNFHFSDF this is my favorite one. On my part, it's a reference to both Pilot ("You can live with dignity; we can't die with it") and House's angry, grieving outburst to Thirteen in Dying Changes Everything. ("People die! You, Amber, everyone. Don't act like you just figured that out.") Within the story, House only intended it to be a callback to the latter.

"You'd rather die than let anyone see the real you, because you think you're weak. You think you're pathetic.”: OOSHGSDF THIS IS MY OTHER FAVORITE. Okay. This was meant to be a parallel to my 7x18/5x08 web weave. Specifically House's dialogue with Sophia in Emancipation ("You need people to see how independent you are, how well you're coping. So they won't see the lost, hurt little girl.") (The other parallel to the web weave that I threw in there was Thirteen's later thought of House... what did you do?)

Before you start yelling at me– They're heading down a two-lane road, passing field after field under a dizzyingly wide blue sky, and Thirteen's vision fills with green-green-green– I'm doing this because I care about you.: When I first set up this connection when I was outlining the chapter, I almost fuckin' screamed. BIRTHMARKS. BIRTHMARKS!!!!!!!!! ("I am not doing this because I care.") I drove myself fucking insane with this one. I could write a whole ass post about the parallels between this chapter and parts of Birthmarks, but I think a lot of it will probably end up getting sprinkled into House's POV. (Edit to add: and the drugs. that was ALSO an intentional birthmarks reference. Idk how I forgor the drugs😭)

The rest are under the cut if anyone is curious!

Thirteen asking Foreman "Are you... okay?" at the beginning of their phone call: This was meant to parallel the moment in The Dig when Thirteen asks House the same thing, immediately after finding out that he and Cuddy had been dating but broke up.

“You had me worried for a second there. I thought you were about to show up at my apartment with a dead body or a stab wound.”: A nod to Darrien going to Thirteen for help in After Hours.

"I'm sorry." "Hey, no, don't do that.": Parallel to Remorse, when Foreman apologizes for firing Thirteen in the middle of their argument, and Thirteen snaps, "Don't do that! That's not what this is about!"

"What, did he finally break parole and get arrested or something?": Parallel to an exchange between House and Thirteen in The Dig about Lucas ("You could have at least hired Cuddy's weird boyfriend." "Lucas?" "Mmm-hmm." "You don't know?" "What, is he dead or something?"). Except with the horrible irony of: this time, someone actually is dead. Or something.

“I’m trying... to say that he’s gone. House is gone.” “Excuse me?”: Meant to be a thematic mirror image of a moment between Foreman and Thirteen in The Softer Side ("Do you miss sleeping with women?" "Excuse me?"). Tone-wise and context wise, they are complete opposites. But both times Thirteen reacts to the shock by asking for clarification (because clearly, to her, what she just heard can't possibly be what Foreman intended to say.)

"We've gotta be realistic. He's attempted before.” “Yeah, four years ago!": Reference to House quite literally killing himself (for less than two minutes) via electrocution in 97 Seconds.

"Why the hell did you just give up? What happened to 'killing yourself is never the answer?'”: House is referencing what Thirteen tells their patient in The Softer Side ("No matter how bad things get, killing yourself is never the answer"). He didn't mean it as a reference to Kutner, but it triggers memories for Thirteen of Kutner's suicide.

His words hit her like a sucker punch as memories of a different person– a different time and place, blood coated over her hands and face, cold and thick and copper-crisp– flash before her mind's eye.: Thirteen remembering the moment they discovered Kutner in Simple Explanation. (Also occurs at the end of the chapter when she feels "someone else's blood that drips from her face")

House's jaw drops.  “Charity case?” he demands, incredulous. “After everything I've done, you think that's what this is? A charity case?": lol this was just a nod to the title of the 'House fires Thirteen so she can be happy' episode being Charity Case. Something something House has never seen Thirteen as a charity case something something Thirteen tries to say he does so she can deny emotional involvement/connection.

She'd written out a little speech. Something about spud guns and lesbian bars and the number thirteen...: In-story reference to the events of The Dig and The Choice

Chase's easy grin, Eric's warm hand around her own: Thirteen remembering Last Temptation (Chase grinning and hugging Thirteen when he sees her again for the first time) and Simple Explanation (Thirteen and Foreman holding hands as they watch Kutner's funeral procession)

The cool metal of a spud gun beneath her fingers and House's hand over hers, steadying: That one screen cap from The Dig where Thirteen's aiming the spud gun and House looks like he's supporting her/guiding her through it. Thirteen is remembering that moment.

#in the dirt #my writing #my meta #meta #house md #remy thirteen hadley #greg house #eric foreman #tag later #for episodes

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Never Too Late

Summary: Dean’s not too thrilled with the way his life is going and his thirteen year old daughter begins to take notice. After she confronts him he agrees to see a therapist but he’s not the only one that’ll get the help they need...

Pairing: Dad!Dean x reader

Word Count: 3,700ish

Warnings: language, angst, mental health talks, on the run reader

A/N: Enjoy!

_____

Dean’s POV

“Dean,” said Mary from across the table. He hummed and looked around, his dad and Emily already missing from the table. “You feeling okay, honey? You’ve been quieter than normal lately.”

“Yeah. Let me help with the dishes,” he said. He started to gather them up, the sound of the front door shutting nearby.

“Your father was taking her for an ice cream,” she said.

“She doesn’t need ice cream,” he said as he carried the plates into the kitchen.

“She’s thirteen and skinny as a rail. She ate all of her vegetables. She can have an ice cream cone, Dean,” she said, following him in.

“You seem to know how to be a perfect parent. Why don’t you raise her then if I’m doing such a shit job,” he said. Mary stared at him, Dean closing his eyes. “Sorry.”

“Your father and I have had enough of this. Emily is picking up on whatever it is going on with you,” she said.

“I hate my life, that’s what’s going on with me,” he said. “Emily is the one good thing in it and she’s growing up. She wants to spend more time with her friends or go to the mall. Five years, she’s in college and then I just work and save money for her and then that’s it. That’s the rest of my life.”

“You sound depressed, honey,” she said.

“I am not depressed. I’m just tired. I’ve been working a lot of overtime,” he said.

“Dean-”

“Drop it, mom. I’m fine.”

“Dad,” said Emily from the other end of the couch that night. I hummed and kept watching the cooking show, handing her the remote. “No. I…”

“What is it, baby?” he asked, giving her his full attention. She frowned and looked down at the empty space between them.

“You know my friend Pippa? She says her mom gets sad too sometimes. She takes medicine to help her,” she said.

“Emily, I am fine. Don’t-”

“No you’re not. You’re always sad or tired. You barely smile anymore and I think you need to take something to get help too,” she said.

“I am fine,” said Dean.

“Dad, don’t lie! You’re not fine.”

“I’m not taking life advice from a thirteen year old,” he said. She frowned and stood up, storming upstairs. Dean sighed and ran his hands over his face, taking a deep breath when all of a sudden Emily was back in front of him, shoving a book in his lap.

“It’s from the library and it’s by a doctor and it’s about this mental health stuff and you suck at it so read the stupid book,” she said before she took off, her bedroom door slamming this time.

“Em,” said Dean with a deep sigh. “Emi, why do you of all people have to see through my bullshit better than anyone?”

He turned off the TV and took the book up to bed, pausing at her door but figuring it was safer to let her calm down on her own.

He sat down on the edge of his mattress and flipped it open. It wasn’t particularly long, something a middle schooler could understand easy enough.

Half an hour later Dean had shoved the book on the floor and had his head resting on his tucked in knees.

“Dad?” he heard. He turned his head and tried to wipe his face off, Emily walking over.

“Yeah, Em,” he said, not looking at her. She grabbed his cheeks though and turned his face back, Dean not able to hide the emotions he normally kept so in check in front of her. Her eyes instantly welled up and he frowned. “No, Emi, it’s not your fault. Dad’s…”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it,” she said. He pulled her onto the bed and into a big hug, kissing the top of her head. “Daddy, I’m sorry.”

“Rip my heart right out sometimes, I swear,” said Dean, tucking her under his chin. “I’m sorry, baby. This is not your responsibility. This is not your problem at all or nothing you did. I’m sorry for scaring you. I’m so sorry.”

“Do you need medicine?” she asked.

“I need to talk to someone,” he said, closing his eyes. “I needed to talk to someone years ago. Tonight though I’m going to remember that you are a wonderful and amazing person who loves me.”

“You thought I didn’t love you?” she asked, lifting her head up.

“My head was lying to me, baby. I know you do,” he said.

“I’m sorry too, for being mean earlier,” she said.

“Well, you shouldn’t be mean but sometimes people need it, like I did,” he said.

“Can I sleep in here tonight?” she asked.

“I think you’re a little old for that,” he said. “But I’ll make an exception tonight. I don’t really want to be alone either.”

“Are you gonna be okay?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I promise.”

Y/N POV

“Dean Winchester,” you said, a grumpy looking guy in a tan coat standing up. “Right this way.”

He sighed and followed you back to your office, Dean slipping past you and inside. You took a seat at your chair, Dean sitting down on the couch as far away as possible.

“I don’t bite,” you teased. “I’m Dr. Smith but some of my patients prefer to call me Y/N. Your choice.”

“Mhm,” he hummed.

“Alright,” you said, flipping open your notepad. “What brings you in today, Dean?”

“My thirteen year old daughter cornered me last night and said she thinks I have a problem with my mental health and I know she’s right and I don’t want to be here but I will be here for her,” he said.

“You need to be here for you, Dean. That’s step one,” you said.

“I’m here so my daughter doesn’t worry about me anymore so feed me some happy pills or whatever,” he said.

“Listen. I’ll be upfront about this. I don’t prescribe to my patients, only very rarely and I’m not going to feed you medication to numb you out so you can go about your day. We deal with our shit in this office. You want to do that, great. You don’t, there’s the door,” you said.

“What the fuck kind of shrink are you?” he asked.

“I’m your fucking shrink,” you said with a smile. He stared at you, glancing at the coffee table for a moment. “I’ll take the fact you haven’t stormed out yet a sign that you’d like to stay. Okay. Let’s get down to business then. Why does your daughter think you have an issue with your mental health?”

“Because I do. My entire life has revolved around taking care of someone else and she’s growing up and someday soon, no one will need me,” he said.

“Kids always need their fathers. Shit, mine just helped me paint my shed last weekend,” you said.

“I think this was a mistake,” he said as he got to his feet.

“Kids grow up, Dean. You just told me you think you have a problem. I help with those kinds of problems. Why not try this?” you asked.

“I’m not gonna be coming to therapy every week. I don’t have time for that,” he said.

“There are alternatives. I do home sessions in the evenings in certain cases. But let’s get back to you. Do you ever think of harming yourself?” you asked.

“No. Not me, not anybody,” he said. “I’m not nuts. I’m just tired.”

“Tired. Alright. How about I give you a short survey to fill out and we’ll go from there?”

“Well?” said Dean not long after you’d started to read over his survey answers.

“I think you’re tired,” you said with a smile. “Dean...I think maybe you have some self-worth and esteem issues, maybe a little more than the average person but I think it’s simpler than you think. You’re lonely and don’t make yourself a priority at all in your life. It’s brewing unhappiness which is spilling out everywhere else.”

“So I’m miserable because I’m miserable.”

“You need to start giving a fuck about yourself. If you do, I think you can start to feel better,” you said.

“What if I don’t want to?”

“Do it for your daughter.”

He was quiet and glanced down, letting out a deep breath before he nodded.

“Alright then. Now, let’s talk about the best way to do that.”

“Sorry,” said Dean as you pulled on your coat a few hours later. “I didn’t realize it’d gotten so late.”

“It’s what we call an emergency session and it’s totally cool,” you said. “But you can walk me to my car.”

“I was planning on it,” he said with a smile. You hummed and gathered your things, Dean following you out the hallway just as the front door opened and a police officer stepped inside.

“Officer the office is closed for the night but I can give the number for the emergency therapist for your department,” you said, already going over to the receptionist desk.

“No. I’m here on other business,” said the officer, nodding for Dean to leave. You glanced over at him and he raised his chin, looking back at the officer. “Sir, it’s a private matter.”

“I don’t entirely feel all the comfortable leaving her alone here with you,” said Dean.

“I’m a cop. Leave.”

“Dean, you should um, listen to the officer,” you said.

“Why? I’m not breaking any laws,” said Dean.

“I’d like to speak to my wife in private is why,” said the officer.

“Oh,” said Dean before he caught the look on your face. “Still going to have to pass on leaving.”

“What the fuck is this?” said Lance to you. You shut your eyes and you swore he growled. “Get this fuckface nutjob out of here.”

“He is a patient and you’re the fuckface. We’re divorced so get the fuck out of my office,” you said.

“She’s not a shrink,” said Lance to Dean. “She pretends. Her name is Y/N Y/L/N and she is a convicted criminal, a fugitive, and I would not get involved in this buddy.”

“You got any proof?” asked Dean. Lance narrowed his eyes and Dean took a step in front of you. “Didn’t think so. Unless you want to pull a gun on the brother of the assistant DA, I’d get the fuck out.”

“I’ll have a warrant in an hour,” he said before he left. You closed your eyes, Dean’s grunt causing you to flash them open.

“You really a convicted criminal?” he asked.

“I ran away from him because that was him being nice and him being mean is not a great thing and…” you trailed off, Dean nodding at you. “I shot him. Then I ran. We’re from the Dakotas. He doesn’t work here.”

“Yeah, I got that from the out of state badge on him. Let’s get you someplace safe, alright?” he said.

“I have a go bag in my trunk,” you said. “Sorry. I’m actually not a therapist. I took a few psych classes though. Although technically I had a PhD in English so-”

“Yeah, Y/N, let’s stop freaking out and you’re going to get in your car and follow me to my place, okay? I wasn’t lying. My little brother really is the assistant DA. He’ll help you out.”

“Let me get that,” said Dean, taking your backpack from you. You stared at him as you stepped into his foyer, Dean setting the bag down after you’d taken off your coat and shoes. “I’m gonna leave it right by the stairs, alright?”

You nodded and he locked up behind you, an angry stamping coming from around a corner.

“Dad! It’s like eight thirty! I’m starving!” said a teenage girl, her face falling when she saw you. “Oh. I’m sorry.”

“I was late and make yourself a TV dinner and eat it in your room,” he said as you followed him down the front hall into a kitchen. He opened a drawer and started to flip through some papers, the girl staring at you.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi Emily,” you said. 

“Who are you?”

“Y/N’s a friend,” said Dean, pulling a sheet out. “Emi, make your food and then go to your room. This is grown up stuff.”

“Don’t say that,” she muttered. He sighed and threw his head back.

“Um, how about I make something to eat quick for everyone? I’m sure we’re all hungry,” you said.

“Why?” mumbled Dean in your ear.

“I’m trying not to freak out and she’s hungry and just let me make dinner,” you said. He held up his hands and pulled out his phone, walking around to the other side of the table before he was calling a number. “What would you like Emily?”

“Dad was going to make sriracha chicken,” she said.

“How about macaroni and cheese?” you said with a smile. “That’s nice and simple.”

“Whatever,” she said, hopping up on the counter and pointing out where to get the pot and food from.

Twenty minutes later you had a few bowls of food on the table, Dean tapping his finger on the wood as he kept glancing at the door.

“How was therapy?” asked Emily.

“Eventful. Also, please don’t discuss that in front of other people,” he said.

“But she’s your therapist,” she said, poking at your lanyard with your ID badge, still hanging around your neck.

“It’s complicated,” said Dean.

“Is he okay?” she asked you. Dean rolled his eyes and shoveled some food in his mouth. “Please?”

“Hey,” said a tall man, coming in through the front door quickly. “I got over as fast as I could.”

“Thanks, Sam. Emily, finish your food in your room,” said Dean. She groaned but left, Sam giving you a smile before he sat down in her spot.

“I’m Sam, Dean’s brother. So I talked to the DA and we can get you in witness protection,” said Sam.

“It won’t work,” you said. “He has friends in there.”

“You did shoot him,” said Sam.

“He tried to kill me,” you said.

“Yeah, your family and friends have always been on your side about his abuse and all that. Our problem is that...you’ve both broken laws, you and him. The DA had an alternative option. He owes me a huge favor which is why we’re...bypassing legality in this,” said Sam.

“What does that mean?” you asked.

“It means a new identity. Legitimate birth certificate, tax returns, the whole nine yards. The only catch is it’s not going to be ready for a few days,” said Sam.

“I called you to help her, not make her run again,” said Dean. “Since when is shooting someone that’s trying to kill you against the law?”

“It’s not. I didn’t say her crimes were bad. It’s just how the other side would spin it. You wouldn’t get jail time. We just don’t want you near him. This isn’t ever getting to a court. We’ve seen this before Dean. He gets her, she keeps running or somehow we get lucky and he gets taken out of the equation,” said Sam.

“If I get a new ID, I can get farther than before. Keep a low-profile, don’t stay in one place too long, I get it. Please. I’ll take it,” you said. Sam nodded.

“I’ll keep you updated. I’ll get you a hotel room for the next few-”

“He’s a cop. He’s going to look at all the hotels and motels, Sammy,” said Dean. “Let her stay here.”

“You have a thirteen year old daughter. You gave this guy your name basically,” said Sam. “The knight in shining armor act is over. Y/N, come on.”

“Really, Dean, please it’s okay,” you said as you stood up. “You did more than enough. Um, I...I really do hope you feel better. Take care of yourself. Please.”

“I’ll try,” said Dean. “Take care of yourself too, Y/N.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Two Years Later

You rung the doorbell and heard some movement inside after a few seconds. You held your hood to keep it from flying off in the wind and rain. The door opened and the air immediately was cozy and smelled like cinnamon and something really good tasting.

“Hi,” said Emily. She was taller than you remembered and her hair was darker but you smiled and she cocked her head. “Y/N?”

“Hi Emily. Is your dad home?” you asked. She nodded and waved you inside. You took a step in on the mat only so she could shut the door and stop the water from spilling in. 

“Dad! Your therapist you have a crush on is here!” she called, wandering back down the hall to the back of the house. 

“I do not have a crush on Dr. Benson. He’s also very happily married,” said Dean. He was smiling as he came into view, freezing when he saw you by the door. “Y/N.”

“Hey,” you said. You gave a tiny wave and he stared at you. “I uh, wanted to stop by for a second if that was okay.”

“Yeah. Em. Go watch the rolls in the oven for me, please,” asked Dean. She hummed as she walked out of view, Dean coming into the foyer and looking you over. “You look good.”

“Thanks. I um, straight off the bat I wouldn’t have come here if it wasn’t safe. Lance is no longer in the picture.”

“How no longer in the picture?”

“I don’t need to pretend anymore. I’m back to being Y/N,” you said. “Not even a mark on my permanent record.”

“He’s dead, isn’t he.”

“Yes. Started seeing a young girl, barely out of highschool. It got messy. Her mother is a police officer. Things escalated and he got contact information for me, put it out that if I didn’t come forward, he’d do some bad stuff to the girl. I contacted the mother and things got really out of hand but I tried to help so they sweeped everything I did wrong too under the rug. I’m normal again.”

“I kept going to therapy,” said Dean. “I found a really good guy. Things are better around here too.”

“Emily looks like she’s growing up,” you said.

“Too fast. Would you want to stick around for a minute? If you don’t have plans,” he said.

“No, my plans are wide open. I don’t even have a job or house right now. I am very open book,” you said with a smile.

“Well we have cinnamon rolls about to come out of the oven and taco soup on the stove if you’d like to join us to watch some football,” he said.

“Taco soup?” you asked. 

“It’s good. I promise,” he said. He took your coat off of you and hung it on the hook, letting you slip out of your boots before guiding you to the back of the house. Emily was on the counter eating a spoonful of icing, Dean rolling his eyes at her. “Y/N’s gonna hang out for a bit if that’s cool.”

“He so has a crush on you,” she said.

“Would you like to be grounded?”

“You’ve never grounded me,” she said. A fluffy dog came running into the kitchen, barking at her as Dean crossed his arms. “Come on, Rufus. Of course you wait until it’s pouring to have to go potty.”

She hopped off and went off with the dog, Dean smiling as you cocked your head.

“What?” he asked.

“You went full blown happy single dad,” you said. “I bet you didn’t want the dog and now he sleeps in your bed.”

“No, not true. He sleeps with Em half the time,” he laughed. He got out an extra bowl and shrugged. “For a fake therapist, you were a pretty good one. I’m not perfect but I haven’t been as low as I was that night since.”

“Me either,” you said.

“Why’d you really stop by?”

“I wanted to say thank you. If you ever need anything, it’s yours.”

“How about a date?” he said. “I felt something. You felt something. One date and we call it even?”

“Throw in a cinnamon roll and you have a deal,” you said. He smirked and you both heard a door open, a soaking wet dog running into the kitchen and shaking off.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” said Dean. “Emily!”

“I know!” she said, trotting in with a big towel and picking up the dog in it. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright,” he said as she walked him back where they came from. “The daughter thing...that doesn’t freak you out?”

“Not at all,” you said. “Your rolls are burning.”

“Crap,” he said, spinning around and taking the pan out. He sighed and you laughed. “I got another batch in the fridge if you don’t mind waiting.”

“I don’t mind waiting at all, Dean.”

______

#spn #supernatural #dean x reader #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanficiton #dean winchester x you #supernatural fanficiton #dean one shot #dean au #dad!dean

[candlecoo]

I had a somewhat of a dark au idea. Izuku (along with several dozen other kids) was kidnapped and experimented on to see how quirks came into being by using quirkless kids as test subjects. Most of the subjects did not survive and when the heroes arrived to rescue them they only found three. (When I was writing the fic, before I deleted it, I had Denki as the emitter subjects, Toru as the mutation, and Izuku had some Transformation ability that prevent him from dying.)

So I don't have too many ideas for this one but I'll give it an attempt!

- a villain had started a project to experiment and see if they could force or enduce a quirk activation into people through a combination of chemicals and outside forces.

- the experiment started with fifty subjects.

- twenty-five who were born quirkless.

- and twenty-five who had their quirk taken away.

- seventeen of the subject were put in test to try to enduce emitter quirks.

- seventeen more were put in tests to enduce mutations quirks.

- and sixteen were put in tests to enduce transformation quirks.

- the tests ran for around two years.

- within the first six months eleven subjects died due to the intensity of the tests.

- within nine months thirteen subject became brain dead or no longer were mentally responding to outside factors and were transferred to other projects.

- a month after that two subjects took their own lives which led to harsher restrictions on the remaining twenty-four subjects.

- by month fourteen the first subject showed results, subject four, a young male, who had had been the focus of a series of emitter test surrounding electrical current.

- there had been no progress in his tests until one day the electrical frequency went off the charts and the child zapped that doctor's assistant to death.

- it was a breakthrough and just what the motivation the doctor needed to keep going.

- within sixteen months nine more subjects died due to complications during testing.

- month seventeen provided the second successful experiment, for the mutant group this time. Subject fourteen, a young female, whose tests revolved around radiation and extreme light.

- everything seemed to be normal untill they went to her chamber to take her to her next test, when they opened the door the cell seemed to be empty.

- she had became permanently invisible, this was also the first escape attempt. Which failed, of course.

- within twenty-two months six more subjects perished.

- the doctor almost accounted it as seven but then something miraculous happened, subject nine walked out of the morgue and unfortunately into the streets after being dead for ten hours, alive and well.

- also unfortunately nobody realized this until three hours after his escape.

- they had no way of knowing this would happen since subject nines tests had nothing to do with bringing him back to life, they were testing to see if the boy could develop a quirk that could transform his skeleton into an exoskeleton like armor while also replacing the previous skeleton.

- the doctor had to admit the ideas for the transformation group were far more experimental, probably why subject nine was the last remaining subject from his group.

- it took a week to recapture subjuct nine and while the doctor thought it was done quite descreetly, he fail to notice one thing.

- the boy and his recapture was witnessed by an underground hero by the name of Eraserhead.

- within twenty-three months the remaining six unresponsive subjects were transferred to other projects and the remaining three successful subjects were kept for further testing.

- all three subjects had two things in common, all were under the age of ten and were originally quirkless.

- testing that would barely be started since during month twenty-four heroes raided the lab while the doctor was away, little did he know at the same time sensei would be battling it out with the number one hero which would later cause the doctor to drop all personal projects anyway.

- during the raid the heroes found the files to all the subjects and realized how late they were for the majority of the victims.

- in the end they only rescued three, subject four Denki Kaminari, subject nine Izuku Midoriya and subject fourteen Toru Hagakure.

#test my limits au #candle answers #ask the candle #bnha au #bnha #bnha headcannons

[ggomos-maribat]

[23/?]

BDBWM Day 3 | Meeting the JL

original prompt | complete masterlist

*Set Post-Hawkmoth defeat, but before Mari moves in with the Waynes. Thank you to the people over at the MGI server who suggested the subjects for each member

When Ladybug and Chat Noir arrive at the headquarters, a few Justice League members come to meet them. The two Parisian heroes can’t help but notice that the JL are feeling a little off. Tired, restless or slightly distressed. 

“Why do I have a feeling you know something about this?” Chat whispers to Ladybug.

“Umm—” 

“I’m doing homework right now.” Marinette props her legs up to her chest, adjusting the camera of her tablet so she can see the video call properly. “Do you happen to know anyone I can ask for help?” 

“On what subject, sweetie?” Bruce asks. 

“Uhh, a lot. Here, I’ll send a list to you.” 

Her father hums as he scans the list. “What about your brothers?” 

She wrinkles her nose. “Them? No. Not them. Any other suggestions? Do you want to help me?” 

“I wish I could. Unfortunately, I have meetings lined up for the next few days. I’ll send you some contacts of mine to help.” Bruce types on his laptop. “I’ll let them know ahead of time that you’ll be calling.” 

“Cool. Thanks, Dad.” Marinette looks up and gawks at the names on the list. Did he seriously send these. . .? 

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Ladybug whispers back. 

“I am glad that you can join us, Ladybug.” Wonder Woman steps forward and takes her hand. “The Paris situation may be solved but there are still a lot of things to take care of.” 

Ladybug guiltily notes her lack of energy. 

“Hello? Auntie Diana?” Marinette says after warily dialing the number. 

“Marinette! Bruce said that I’ll be able to help with your History homework.” Diana says. “Ask away, dear.” 

“Right, let’s see . . .” 

As it turns out, she’s not any better of a teacher than Plagg. While Marinette appreciated her rambles about her own adventures, she only needs the gist of the progression of industrialization in Europe. She still patiently listens for a couple hours, however. 

“You both seem so young,” Superman mumbles from his seat while hunched over a notepad. 

Ladybug hides her wince. “Yeah, we get that a lot.” 

“We first started when we were thirteen.” Chat casually stretches. She elbows his side. 

“Uncle Clark? I got this article-writing homework . . . We have to write an essay about the Paris tragedies.” 

“But that’s such a broad topic!” 

“I know! I complained too, since it can bring up some traumatic memories for my classmates, but our teacher won’t budge.” Marinette shudders. 

“Alright, first you have to . . .” Clark Kent then proceeds to spill his waterfall of ideas, which Marinette knows will exceed the maximum word count. 

“And—wait a minute, I can just write it for you!” 

“Huh? But Uncle C—” 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll have it done before your deadline.” 

Something tells Marinette that he’ll be neglecting his civilian job for a while. 

“Thirteen? Who allowed you children to fight a terrorist at that age?” Green Arrow frowns. 

The Parisian duo sigh at the same time. 

“Okay! Thanks for helping me with Physics, Uncle Ollie.” Marinette adds the units of her answer at last. “One last thing, do you mind if I ask you a bit about Math?” 

“What is it?” 

“It’s pretty long. Uhh, wait a sec, I’ll send you a picture.” 

“What’s with these messy solutions? The answer’s wrong. You have to do it this way . . .” 

“But Uncle Bars said—” 

“Barry? Nevermind what he said. I’ll send in the right solutions.” 

The Flash is giving the archer the stink eye. “We’re here to talk about Paris, not about their ages or qualifications.” 

“Hello—” 

“Marinette! You asked Oliver about your Math homework?!” 

“Yeah, I just wanted a second opinion—” 

“But my answer is correct!” 

“Uncle Ollie said no, though . . .” 

“Argh! Just wait, I’m gonna run over to him. He’s simplifying the stuff that can’t be canceled out! I already told him!” 

When Ladybug fidgets a little, Chat gives her a look of suspicion. She thinks about not telling him what transpired in the span of twenty-four hours. 

“How old are you both now? Seventeen? Eighteen?” Aquaman butts in to ask them. “Is an Atlantean diorama a good school project? It is, right?” 

“So Uncle Art, I was thinking of having an aquaponics project for my—” 

“Ha! How nice to see you curious about Atlantean culture!” 

“Wait, I said aquaponics—” 

“You can quote me, the king himself! What do you want to know?” 

Ladybug fights back a groan and a scowl towards Batman, who’s busy working on the computer. This is all Dad’s fault. 

BONUS: 

“Marinette, what grade did you get for that essay?” 

“. . . A fifteen out of twenty.” 

“Fifteen? Out of twenty?! She gave an extensive essay written by Clark Kent, proofread by Lois Lane a fifteen out of twenty?!” 

Taglist:

@maribat-bdbwm @tinybrie @sinoffalsejudgement @its-maemain @kamarallil @toughluna @golden-promises @whatamoodhoney @trippingovermyfeet @m4ster0fnone @alexizlazy @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @maybeanalien0-0 @imchaotic-dontmindme @ev-cupcake @flowers-n-fandoms @crusherccme @ji-nk-ies @depressed-bitchy-demon @duskyashe @multplelifes @authorpendragging@iloontjeboontje@thatonecroc@user00000003@paradoxaloccurance@kking13@laydeekrayzee@chaos-inperson@astol07@the-coffee-fandom@nerd-nowandforever@nightmarewasteland@certainmuffinbagelcalzone @the-hospitality-of-knives @stainedglassm @talia-scar123

*if you want to be tagged, feel free to ask in the comments and I'll add you to the taglist :)

#fox dcw #maribat #maribat fanfic #dc x mlb #mlb x dc #maribat marinette dupain cheng #bio dad bruce wayne #maribat batfam #maribat fic #dc x miraculous #mbdbwm2022 #i apologize if the jl members are uhh #out of character :( #it's my first time writing them

[stiltonbasket]

Jueying has the same initials as big bro Jingyi, and is 50x more chaotic. I imagine if she'd been in wwx+lwj generation, the only person who'd broken more rules than her would be wwx, but I might just be exaggerating.

"Shameless!" Lan Qiren barks, throwing a scroll at Wei Wuxian's head. "How can you say that lingli and resentment are the same? To think that I should have lived to hear such words from the dashixiong of Yunmeng Jiang!"

Wei Wuxian leans backwards, missing the scroll by a hairsbreadth as it flies over his shoulder and hits Nie Huaisang full in the face. “But Laoshi!” he yelps, leaping into the aisle between his seat and Jiang Cheng’s as Lan-laoshi grabs another scroll. “Lingli is energy, and resentment is energy. I’ve dissected walking corpses with our sect’s Pan-yishi, and we found out that resentment moves through human meridians just like—”

Lan Qiren lifts the second scroll, looking more incensed than ever; but before it can leave his hand, a crash and a scream echo in the white-pebbled courtyard outside the Lanshi, followed by a girl’s raucous shriek of laughter and a tremendous bang that makes Lan-laoshi blanch.

“Wangji,” he says, sounding deceptively calm. “Nephew. Go outside, see what the matter is, and tell me that Jueying did not light another firework on the roof of the Yashi.”

Lan Zhan rises and goes to the door, peering out into the courtyard with the resigned air of a monk who had caught his novices gambling when they were meant to be making blessing talismans.

“Dishonesty is forbidden, Shufu,” Lan Zhan says at last. At the front of the room, Lan Qiren puts his head in his hands. “But it was not another firework. Another six is likely nearer the mark.”

“Nie-xiong, who are they talking about?” Wei Wuxian whispers, sidling back to his desk. “That sounded like a guniang’s personal name. Do you know who Jueying is?”

Unexpectedly, Nie-xiong laughs.

“You know my Da-ge and Lan Xichen are married, don’t you?”

Somehow, Wei Wuxian had managed to forget that fact, for the current Lan-zongzhu’s elder son is much older than Lan Zhan, just as Nie-zongzhu is more than twice Nie Huaisang’s age.

“Well, I remember now,” he nods. “But who’s this Jueying-guniang, then?”

“My niece. Da-ge and Xichen-gege have two children—Jingyi-didi was born when Wangji and I were three, and Jueying came along two years later. She’s nearly thirteen now, and according to Laoshi—” and here Wei Wuxian hears another great crash from the courtyard, followed by the deafening whoop of a dozen fireworks going off at once, “—she’s responsible for half the gray hairs on his head.”

“Jueying!” Lan Qiren screeches, now tearing down the stony path outside the Lanshi. “Come down from the roof before you break your neck!”

“I won’t!” a young girl’s voice says defiantly. “Shugong, if I come down, you’re just going to catch me and send me back to the Baoshi again!”

“Of course I am! The point of punishments is that you do not like them,” Lan Qiren shoots back. “Now come down before I count five and go back to finish the laundry, or I will send your shushu up to get you!”

“Which one of you is Shushu?” Wei Wuxian wonders, before snorting as Lan Zhan rolls up his sleeves and marches out of the Lanshi like a soldier going to war. “Ah, looks like Shufu is Lan Zhan. What do they call you?”

“Technically, I’m Shushu,” Huaisang grins. “A-Yi and A-Ying call Wangji-xiong shufu most of the time. But I encourage them at every turn, so Laoshi won’t make me lift a finger to stop them when they misbehave.”

In the end, it takes Lan Zhan nearly half an hour to catch his recalcitrant niece; and after Lan Jueying has been safely bundled off the roof, one of the Nie disciples volunteers to escort her back to the Cloud Recesses’ nursery.

“Ying’er has her punishments there,” Nie Huaisang explains, when Wei Wuxian asks why a thirteen-year-old would be studying in the Baoshi. “When she misbehaves, she has to do laundry for the babies.”

“Poor xiao-guniang!” Wei Wuxian sighs, recalling similar punishments at Lotus Pier. “If she’s being punished, I’ll give her the all-purpose laundry talisman I invented last year. She’s still young, and even if she doesn’t listen to Lan-laoshi, she should be out playing in the sun instead of washing clothes.”

Nie Huaisang nods approvingly.

“She loves everyone who helps her skip her punishments,” he says conspiratorially. “If you want to make friends with Wangji-xiong, the quickest way would be to make friends with her.”

The back of Wei Wuxian’s neck starts to burn.

“Do you really think so?” he asks, fighting back the urge to check his brow for fever. “He must care for his zhinu and zhizi very dearly, mustn’t he?”

“En, he does. Both of the little ones drive him mad, but he worships the ground they walk on.”

Somehow, the thought of a younger Lan Zhan watching over two little children makes Wei Wuxian’s throat ache.

He does not dare to think on the matter too long—at least not now, not when Lan Zhan has yet to say a friendly word to him. But if he were to see such a sight tomorrow, then perhaps—!

“Go visit the Baoshi tomorrow,” Huaisang advises him. “Ying’er will be there, and you can meet Jingyi. He’s not so much younger than we are, you know. You two can be good friends, and then you’ll surely be able to get along with Wangji.”

Wei Wuxian inclines his head, feeling strangely bashful at the prospect.

“All right, then,” he says, speaking to the fallen scroll abandoned near his knee. “I will.”

#wangxian #mo dao zu shi #the untamed #wei wuxian #nie huaisang #lan jueying #my fic #prompt fill #anon i saw this and HAD to write a ficlet omg #here you go #jingying at gusu summer school au

[elipheleh]

Stonewall

Continuing my series of learning about things referenced in the book, I'm looking at things Alex references when he talks about engaging with queer history. These are all tagged #a series of learning about things that are referenced in the book, if you want to block the tag.

Stonewall is one of the more well known events, but that doesn't mean that everyone knows what happened, so it's still important - I think - to cover it.

‘Stonewall’ is used by Alex to refer to the Stonewall Riots, which began on the 28th of June, 1969. Patrons of the Stonewall Inn in Greenwich Village, New York City, fought back after a regular police raid, triggering subsequent nights of riots. The police were targeting gay bars, and had been for years. They would raid gay establishments and arrest anyone who wasn’t wearing three items of clothing that complied with their gender, in accordance with New York State law. Unfortunately, the catalyst for why the patrons fought back that night is heavily disputed, even from people present, and there is no clear answer why. Some say that a lesbian began the riot by fighting back against a policeman who was 'mauling' her, others say a trans person hit a policeman - some think that was Tammy Novak, who fought back when a cop tried to push her into a police van. What is known is that patrons refused to provide identification, and others refused to go with police. Those who weren't arrested didn't disperse as usual, but rather gathered outside the Inn watching their peers being arrested. At some point, as mentioned above, the riot began and violence broke out. The police, in trying to restrain some of the crowd, knocked people down - which only increased the anger of the crowd.

Michael Fader talks about the mood:

We all had a collective feeling like we'd had enough of this kind of shit. It wasn't anything tangible anybody said to anyone else, it was just kind of like everything over the years had come to a head on that one particular night in the one particular place and it was not an organized demonstration ... Everyone in the crowd felt that we were never going to go back. It was like the last straw. It was time to reclaim something that had always been taken from us ... All kinds of people, all different reasons, but mostly it was total outrage, anger, sorrow, everything combined, and everything just kind of ran its course.

The riots continued into the early hours of the morning, thirteen people had been arrested and some of the crowd were hospitalised. Rioting continued the following nights, but so too did the desire to organise and take action to secure gay liberation. By 1974, five years later, there were more than 800 gay organisations - compared to the 50 that pre-dated the riots.

The above image is the only known photo taken during the first night of the riots. It shows the homeless gay youth who stayed nearby the Stonewall Inn fighting with police.

-----

There is an ongoing debate over the importance of Stonewall within queer history. It has become synonymous with the "origin" of the gay rights movement, something which many of those involved with early activism disagree with. In the years preceding Stonewall, activists were working towards gay liberation through various different methods.

The Mattachine Society, founded in 1950 in Los Angeles by Harry Hay (and other, unnamed, friends), but spread nationally, had been carrying out "Sip-in's" in New York in an attempt to legalise gay bars. The State Liquor Authority had been denying licenses to bars which served gay people in an attempt to rid the streets of queer people & others who were seen by politicians as "undesirables". They planned that members of The Mattachine Society would enter the bar, announce their homosexuality, and wait to see if they were served. If they were not, they then would file a complaint against the bar and - more importantly - the State Liquor Authority for violating their constitutional right to free assembly & equal accommodation. Bars had been using the State Liquor Authority's requirements of "orderly conduct" to refuse service. Queer encounters between two men were classed as "disorderly", enabling the bars to discriminate against gay people. In 1966, the highest court in New York ruled in their favour, saying that the SLA could not revoke a license on the basis of homosexual solicitation.

There were many other ways queer activism was being carried out, many successful, but it would make this post much too long if I were to list it all. It’s all reasonably easy to find online, the Library of Congress link below has some useful information.

The work carried out by gay activists, especially since the 1950s, had created a point where all that was needed to ignite the gay liberation movement was one event that empowered gay men and women to band together and fight for their rights. Scholars tend to argue that the Stonewall Riots were that catalyst, especially as the media coverage meant queer Americans saw clearly that there were others fighting for their rights, and there were others who were like them.

Sources: Stonewall Origins, Time SLA Sip In's - Stonewall. Carter 2005, page 50 The Gay ‘Sip-In’ that Drew from the Civil Rights Movement to Fight Discrimination - History Wider information - Stonewall. Carter. Fader Quote - Stonewall. Carter - from wikipedia Additional Reading: JSTOR - The Stonewall Riots didn't start the Gay Rights Movement Time - 'The Beginning of a Conversation': What It Was Like to Be an LGBTQ Activist Before Stonewall Library of Congress - LGBTQIA+ Studies: A Resource Guide

#rwrb #red white and royal blue #a series of learning about things that are referenced in the book #long post #elio's #elio's meta