#;3; my requests are still open if anyone wants to throw me a bone

[literallykenmaandshoyo]

What About Me?

Peter Parker x Female Reader!

Warnings: Angst. Reader is upset because Peter is off being busy as Spider-Man and he's stood her up one too many times for her liking

Word Count: 1.6k

Author's Note: Guys this is my first Peter Parker drabble! YAY!~ I absolutely adore Peter and I wrote this one up earlier tonight and figured it'd be good to share! I hope you all love it, I'm so used to writing fluff that sometimes I forget that writing angst is really good too! Let me know if you have any feedback or requests by sending in an ask, and remember to request Mod Shoyo to be specific! Have a great night (Or morning) everyone!

Also, PicsArt doesn't have the same scrabble letter thingies that Kenma and I have been using for our headers so this one is just a major WTF. Sorry if this looks ugly lol :,)

~Mod Shoyo <3

Y/N sat by her bedroom window, overlooking all of Queens from the seventh floor of her apartment building. Night had fallen and the stars were out, all of the buildings nearby had some office lights still on, people were probably still working, even at this ungodly hour.

That’s one thing that they had in common with her boyfriend Peter.

Being a web-slinging superhero was definitely not on Y/N's list of why Peter Parker could be so distant and just vanish all the time. However, when they first officially started dating, Peter took it upon himself to lay out all of his cards for her right then and there. Y/N was more than understanding and he thanked God for her every single day. Y/N knew that she said she’d be okay with the late nights and the canceled plans, that she’d be up waiting for him during late hours of the night just to make sure he came home safe.

But there was only so much she could take.

She stared down at her text messages with Peter. She asked him if he wanted to come and stay over at her apartment tonight since she’d been missing him a little extra these past couple days. Not only has Tony been working him to the bone, but the crime percentages in Queens seem to have only elevated since Peter would be out all night stopping robberies, saving people from getting mugged or kidnapped, the whole shebang. 

I’ll swing over in 10 love <3 11:45 p.m

Y/N looked at the top of her screen and saw that it was 1:57 in the morning. She knew that she got herself into this and she told herself that every time that he was late or had to cancel on her. It wasn’t his fault. Peter was just doing his job, what he signed up to do, so she couldn’t be mad at him. But who could she get mad at?

She looked like a lovesick puppy, just waiting at her window to see the red and blue suit that her boyfriend wore to come swinging over to her building. Tears were streaming down her face and she was making herself more upset by crying over something like this. She grabbed her phone off the windowsill and turned it off, chucking it into a random corner of her room and lying in her bed. She got under her throw blanket on top of her covers and threw it over her head. Her sniffles and soft sobs weren’t loud enough to wake anyone, but a small part of her wished that Peter would walk in and hear how devastated she was.

Being Peter’s girlfriend was a blessing. It was something like a mantra that she told herself every single morning when she woke up. She wanted to be the one he came home to, the one that would make all of his cuts and bruises better after she cleaned him up, she wanted to be the last woman he would ever love in his life. She wanted to be his. Forever. But being in a relationship didn’t always mean that Peter was the one she fussed over all the time. She was entitled to her own feelings and how she felt, and right now, she was sick and tired of waiting up for Peter.

As if right on cue, her bedroom window slid open and in crawled Peter. He was panting, short of breath as soon as he ripped his mask off his face. “I’m so sorry love, there was this guy in an alleyway that wouldn’t leave this group of middle schoolers alone and he-”

Peter stopped dead in his tracks as he looked at Y/N's shaking figure under her throw blanket. He raised an eyebrow and walked over to the bed, his ears picking up on the sounds of her soft sniffles and hiccups. He pulled the blanket off her head and saw her laying in the fetal position. Her hair was covering the side of her face and he couldn’t really see her expression, but he knew that she was upset. Obviously.

“Baby,...” Peter pushed her hair behind her ear and could see her puffy eyes and red nose. “Hey, hey, what’s the matter?”

Y/N sat up in bed and fixed her crazy hair, sniffling and wiping tears off of her cheeks with the sleeves of her shirt. She sputtered and tried to speak, but she didn’t even know what to tell him. Part of her wanted to be straight up and just tell him that this is the seventh time she’s been kept up waiting on him, but the other part of her knew it wasn’t his fault and that she was just upset because he’s been so busy. Just because she was always available for him, doesn’t mean that Peter was always at her dispense too, especially with what he does with his time.

“I…”

Peter waited for her to explain, but she just looked down at her lap and started to cry again. He felt awful and he was so clueless. He thought back to the last time she cried and remembered that she had lost a grandfather recently that she was close to. Maybe it was that. He grabbed her hand and held it in his tightly.

“Is this about your grandpa again, love?”

Y/N shook her head and pulled her hand away from his. Now Peter was really confused. He racked his brain trying to figure out what else it could be, but every single option he came up with just came to a dead end. Y/N couldn’t help but notice how hard he was trying to think, and she found it ironic. He was so intelligent, the smartest guy she’s ever known. Yet he’s so oblivious when it comes to the small things, she always thought that maybe his brain was so big, that the most simple of questions really took a couple of seconds for him to think about.

“I’m just tired, Peter.” She finally croaked.

Peter’s heart fell into his chest. His gaze met hers instantly and he felt his heart pounding in his chest. He always thought about how Y/N never deserved to be with someone like him, not when he has the whole Spider-Man thing going for him. It’s unfair to her. And he always felt like one day she’d get tired of it all, but he was praying to God out of his own selfishness, that today was not that day.

“This…” She hiccuped. “This is the seventh time that I’ve stayed up past what we agreed to see each other at just to see if maybe you needed a little more time to come home.”

Now Peter understood. 

“You said you’d only be ten minutes at 11:45 and it's two in the morning now, Peter.” Peter looked down at her hands and noticed that they were trembling. “It’s been so hard for me these past couple times to just tell myself this is what I signed up for. But I miss you so much while you’re gone.”

She broke down in tears again, sobbing into her hands. Her sobs and her hiccups were muffled, but that only made them louder in Peter’s head. She was right, in every way imaginable. He hadn’t been much of a boyfriend recently, only texting her about how much he loved and missed her, sending her a quick selfie while he was mid-swing from one crime to the next. He couldn’t even imagine how lonely she must feel within those gaps of time that he wasn’t messaging her.

“Baby, I- I’m so sorry,” Peter cooed. “I know that I’ve been really busy recently, and I-I can’t even think about how lonely you must feel every single time I do this,”

Y/N looked up from her hands and wiped the snot that was running down her nose. She could barely keep her puffy eyes open enough to look at him.

“Don’t ever tell yourself that this is what you signed up for ever again.” Peter scolded. “I asked you to be my girlfriend because I knew in my heart that I was ready to be your boyfriend. And I still believe that. I haven’t been giving you the attention that you deserve and that’s completely on me. Okay?”

Y/N stayed quiet, staring at him with her bloodshot eyes and a quivering lip. The scary part was over. She was never good with calling people out and telling them how what they’re doing affects her. She’d rather just forgive them and never have to talk about it again. But then, when it happens again, she just puts herself through an endless cycle.

“I just miss you…” Y/N sobbed, wrapping her arms around Peter.

She dug her nose into the crook of his neck, bringing her hands up to the back of his head to feel his hair in between her fingers. When Peter hugged her back, her entire body relaxed and she just let him hold her while she cried into his suit. Peter was rubbing her back comfortingly, whispering sweet things into her ears in between pressing kisses to the top of her head and her temples.

“I’ll do better for you, baby. I promise, okay?”

Y/N nodded. 

Peter felt himself getting choked up the entire time Y/N was crying in front of him. The lump in the back of his throat was almost unbearable to push his spit past whenever he swallowed. He held Y/N in his arms for a while longer before finally taking his suit off and changing into some pajamas. He crawled into bed with Y/N and held her once more, the sound of her heart beat finally calming down bringing a soft smile to his face. He kissed the top of her head once more and closed his eyes.

That night, he made a promise to himself.

A promise that she was never going to feel like this ever again.

[perotovar]

Hi bb!! I absolutely love the writing challenge you've launched <3 You and I agreed to let my initial pick go to someone else (@marisferasiop I literally couldn't take Ezra away from you, especially because you're my absolute fave Ez writer <3 ), sooo I'm sending you a request to pair a Norish God up with Santi so I can still join 😍

hello, my love! sorry to keep you waiting, i wanted to get some good info to work with for you! and yes, both you and @marisferasiop asked for tyr/ezra at the same time so i had to figure something out, and wanted both of you to have a chance to write something! so adi was cool enough to let me give her the matchup of fenrir/santiago.

make sure to read the tyr summary for a sort of "sister" story or "mirrored" part to fenrir. tyr is a really important part of fenrir imo.

-

Son of Loki and Angrboda. Name translates to “He Who Dwells in the Marshes”. The most famous of the wolves in Norse Mythology.

There are many stories that include Fenrir, but probably the most famous is “The Binding of Fenrir”, where the Aesir gods raised him in order to keep him under their control and prevent him from wreaking havoc on the Nine Realms. Tyr was the only one brave enough to approach him and feed him from day to day. There’s an understanding between the two. He grew at an incredible fast rate, which worried the gods, so they attempted to chain him up. Their first couple of attempts were unsuccessful, since he broke through them easily. Eventually, they enlisted the help of the dwarves, who forged magical shackles that couldn’t be broken. They had the appearance of being very light and soft to the touch so as not to throw Fenrir off. When the gods approached him with these, he was of course suspicious, and refused to be bound unless one of the gods would stick their hand in his mouth as a pledge of good faith. Tyr was the only one to do so, given their prior trust of one another, resulting in him losing that hand when Fenrir couldn’t break free. The chains were then tied to a boulder and a sword was placed in Fenrir’s jaws to hold them open. He howled ceaselessly which resulted in a foamy river called Ván (“Expectation”) to flow from his drooling mouth.

As the name implies, there will be a time when Fenrir breaks free and causes Ragnarok, ie the end of the Nine Realms. He does this by swallowing the sun (the goddess Sol), killing Odin (as is fated), and chaos follows. He’s killed by Vidar, son of Odin, by ripping open his mouth and decapitating him at the jaw.

Much of this story (and Ragnarok by association) is heavily Christian influenced, however. If you want to know more about the influence, I’d look into “The Fettered Devil”.

There’s debate over Fenrir actually being born a wolf. Perhaps he was much like his sister Hel, and chose to take on the form of a wolf instead of being humanoid. If that’s the case, why did he choose that form?

What we do know for sure about Fenrir is that he is very powerful, and very intelligent.

It’s rare, but there are a lot of people that actually work with Fenrir like they would with any of the other gods, despite not being seen as one. It’s very nuanced, but some examples of what he could represent are as follows:

Fenrir is a force to be reckoned with, and could represent those that are being oppressed and take action against their oppressors. There’s thousands of years of people doing this, and it’s even present today. He could be the one to inspire people to take that next step towards self reliance or protecting oneself.

However, Fenrir is still Fenrir and should be given his own space. He won’t submit to anyone. And neither should you.

Offerings/Associations: Raw and cooked meat. Bones. Chains.

-

and your moodboard:

[fjsj]

fake dating

Frank Morrison x Reader

wordcount: 900

warnings: blood, threats of violence

A/N: This is going to be a multiparter, not sure how many but one more at the very least. Any following parts to this will have background!Julie/Susie - so if that’s not your thing, I’m very sorry :(

Next

--

You were so close. You could hear the rhythmic pulse of the hatch nearby, and you stumbled towards it. This trial had been brutal and short, and you held your side trying to stop the blood from gushing out and leaving a visible trail. The four of you had started all grouped up together, something that was usually a blessing especially with the gentle hum of generators oh so close. But the confidence you initially felt was quickly ripped to sheds, as the lithe shape of the Legion darted between you and your team leaving blood in their wake. How they could move so fast and yet still hit so deep was beyond you. Between rescuing teammates off the hook and healing, you'd only gotten...maybe half of a generator done.

Staggering into the small clearing, you spotted the hatch and its gaping maw. Your relief was dashed as quickly as your teammates lives had been, as you recognized Frank standing in front of it. Arms crossed and guarding it. Your eyes darted between your ticket to freedom and the murderer beside it. Maybe, if you were fast enough, you could make it. The deep piercing pain in your side would certainly hinder your speed and what if he had brought a mori? Before you could further contemplate your options, he spread his arms open in a somewhat friendly gesture, "Heyy y/n."

You squinted at him and took a hesitant step back. Outside of trials, you hung out around Mount Ormond most of the time. Preferring the chaotic nature of the Legion to the somber air that settled around the camp. But you were quick to learn that friendships outside of the trials meant fuck all inside of them. "Oh come on, I'm not going to bite." He said, exasperated, but making a show of putting his knife into his waistband. You glanced back at the hatch. If he didn't want you going through it, he would have closed it already.

"What do you want for it, Frank?" You asked, straightening up slightly as your gaze leveled with him. Stories of killers wanting something in exchange for the hatch weren't all that rare at the campfire, but you'd never experienced it yourself. Usually it was a favor or an item that the killer wanted. Sometimes they wanted the survivor to betray their own the next trial, and in rare cases they wanted something far more vulgar. And to be honest, you weren't sure you could even guess as to what it was that Frank wanted. You two weren't exactly close and he always seemed irritated when you entered the room so you had avoided him for the most part.

He looked up, as if contemplating. "I need a simple favor, is all." It was vague and you frowned. Your vision was beginning to get hazy around the edges, and you pushed harder against the bleeding wound.

"Which is?"

"I kind of...told Julie I was dating someone."

"And that's my problem why?"

"When she asked who, I panicked and said your name."

You dragged your free palm across your face, before settling to pinch the bridge of your nose. "So what exactly are you asking me to do?"

"Just next time you come out, pretend we're madly in love so I can get her off my back. And then I can make up some bullshit reason as to why we 'broke up'."

You couldn't help the laugh that burst out of you, instantly recoiling as the slash in your side yawned wider. You'd be lying if you said you'd never thought about it. You weren't blind and Frank was attractive, no matter how much of an asshole he was. Though...you supposed that was part of the appeal. But this? For a hatch? When watching Julie bitch at him for lying would be so much more entertaining? "I'll pass."

You took another wobbly step back when he made to go for his knife. His hand stopping just short before clenching into a fist, obviously struggling to restrain from just planting the weapon into your chest in frustration. "Can I sweeten the pot somehow?" But as he asked, he looped around to the other side of the hatch. His boot came up to rest under the hatch's...well...hatch, threatening to kick it closed.

"Hm...how about, for the next three trials you can't touch a hair on my head. No attacks, no hooks, no moris."

"Hell no, do you know what the Entity would do to me if I started playing favorites?"

"Then I'll pass."

There was something fun about riling a killer up so much, knowing they weren't going to do a damn thing about it. He threw his hands up in the air, partially in irritation, partially in surrender. "Fine, fucking fine. But I swear to the Entity, if you don't play it up and make it convincing I'll mori you outside of the trials." His voice dropped an octave with the threat. That was impossible but...something about his tone left fear prickling up your spine. As if he'd find a way, if it was the last thing he did.

Your vision was really starting to go now, as you walked forward to the hatch. A sweet smile on your lips as you blew him a sarcastic little kiss. "Sure thing babe." The smile spread into a grin, and you jumped into the hatch.

[kshira]

hey love, how you've been? i hope you're taking good care of yourself. so, I wanted to request sum mitsuya x reader, where they're not dating yet but reader gets suddenly distant and jealous over yuzuha, but of course he catches up. please and thank you ❤

hi babie! i hope you’re doing good! i enjoyed this request and i hope you do as well! <3

-ˏˋ MITSUYA ˊˎ-

tw. fem!reader, cursing, jealousy tones, possessive mitsuya, dirty talk, fingering, creampie, he’s soft but in a demanding way? soft dom! mitsuya w/ sub reader!

wc. 959

“why are you running from me? stop!” mitsuya grips your wrist, fingers slipping through his hands. you look so far away from him, out of his reach within seconds as you make your way to your door.

“it’s nothing, go home mitsuya” his last name feels foul on your tongue but it sounded so much better when she said it—not you.

“so now we’re on a last name basis? you’re being ridiculous, angel” his voice beckons on the back of your ear, that nickname for some reason was already calming you down.

“don’t call me that, mitsuya” you added emphasis on the remaining words, adding sting again, your hand gripping the doorknob “call her angel, not me.”

mitsuya lingers the words, casting the unfamiliar confusion in his mind, baiting an answer as he replays the night and hook, line and sinker— he found it.

“are you jealous of yuzuha?” he questions, his hand grazing across your fingers trying to just touch something of you, afraid you’ll float away.

you turn to him, eyes glossy and lip quivering as mitsuya raises his hand to wipe the tears away, “unfortunately” you whisper when he places his forehead against yours, he smiles “i figured as much.”

the lamp beside your bed lit an ominous yellow across the bed, mitsuya face shadowed a smile sewed to his lips, tugging higher when your fingers brush across his lips “you’re so pretty” he coos, drawing his fingers across your bare stomach, an ache starting to circle amongst your heat.

“mitsuya—” you begin, hands carding through his hair as he attaches his lips on your breasts, tongue circling across the bud. “why are you still calling me that?” he hums, lilac eyes glancing upward to you “you should know by now that’s not my name, angel.”

your eyes knock to the side, looking at the wall covered with photos of him and you—friends, best friends and whatever the fuck this is “does she call you by your first name when you flirt with her?” you question, pushing the jealousy on his lap.

mitsuya contemplates your words, a finger tapping at your cheek “no, i usually think about you when i’m with anyone else.” he cradles your face within his hands, thumb laying on your warm cheeks “do you know what i think about at night, when i get so fucking hard?”

you shiver under his touch, a tingle running through your spin and creeping to the skin causing goosebumps to arise, and that familiar heat pooling warmer in your stomach “n-no.”

“you, those pretty legs—perfect tits and what i would do to fuck this pussy till it’s molded just for me” mitsuya exhales, throaty moan vibrating through his voice—eyes glossing over you until your reaction seems worthy.

his hands dance down to your stomach, skimming over the soft skin as he rolls his pads lower reaching your cunt, he starts small circles on your clit using your slick to swipe a steady rhythm, he closes the distance placing a kiss on your ear “you’re so wet for me, princess.”

“mitsuya please, just fuck me already” you whine, rocking your hips against his palm, his fingers agonizingly close to your clenching hole, he sinks two fingers in curling against your spongy walls “say my name, fucking say it.”

“takashi! fuck takashi” you squeak, his lips curling into a smile against your ear “atta girl.” he sinks deeper, pumping his digits in and out of your sopping cunt, the lewd noises your pussy make have his cock throbbing with every cry of your trembling voice.

strings of your slick cling to his fingers when he pulls out, halting the blossoming orgasm from approaching, “you know you’re cumming on my cock, m’kay princess?”

you only know to nod your head yes, his hands holding your face still while he hovers over you, legs spread with ease and fingers digging into your thighs while he spreads you open for him, a deep sigh bubbling from your lips when you feel his heavy cockhead slide against your folds “i’ll fuck you till you know, i only want you.”

mitsuya rolls his hips, dropping low to rut into your hole, the stretch makes your toes curl, heels of your feet digging into the mattress as he bottoms out, he keeps his head in the crevice of your neck lips suckling on your sensitive skin “nobody will ever fuck you like i do, you’re the only fucking person i want.”

your fingers claw at his back, nails eating at the flesh as mitsuya thrusts harder, grabbing your legs and throwing them over his hips—fucking you deeper in the covers, his face pulling back from your neck to watch your cunt suck him in “fuck angel, m’bout to cum.”

and he doesn’t want to, the warmth of your pussy is so eliciting, milking him dry—the juices of you dripping down to his balls slapping against your ass, he could just die right here; the life he’d dreamed—fuck he was in it.

“don’t wanna cum, wanna stay—fuck this pussy over and over” mitsuya moans, gasps leaving his lips when he slides his hand down to thumb at your clit. “if i’m cumming, you’re doing it first pretty baby” he coos, rubbing faster until the knot in your stomach starts to send shocks through your bones.

“that’s it angel, let go—cum on my cock, show me how good i fuck you” like a silent prayer answered with his voice, you cum—hard, cunt spasming as mitsuya fills your hole to the brim, his seed dribbling down into the sheets.

mitsuya stills inside you, pulling strands of hair behind your ear as he places a kiss against your lips “are you still jealous? or do i have to fuck you again, angel?”

[easilydistractedbyfanfic]

Hello :) Could I request some riventrix angst if you still take requests?

Hi, Nonnie! I had to think about how to answer this because I don't typically take requests outside of ask games. Not so much because I don't like requests but because I've usually got a full plate with my own inspiration for fic! But I was recently playing the "Write 3 Sentences" fic game (though I was terrible at it since I am a wordy human), so how about we add this request there (even though this also is nowhere near 3 sentences lmaooo).

Also as a side note, I don't personally ship Riventrix - I'm a Stellatrix/Rivusa fan but I do like them as friends & partners in crime! My apologies if you wanted something super shippy but I am probably not the writer for that! Anyway, here's a potential take on how things might have gone after Bea gave up Riven to Rosalind so Andreas wouldn't be punished, and there IS some angst...

"I didn't have a choice!" Beatrix tries to reason with him, following him into his room despite his efforts to close the door on her.

"Keep telling yourself that, Bea, and maybe one of us will believe it." Riven collapses onto the edge of his mattress, weary from both the conversation and the bone-deep ache in his muscles. The lingering headache he's had since Beatrix left him in Rosalind's office two days ago doesn't help.

"He's my dad, okay? And I knew you were hiding something! What did you expect me to do, side with you instead?" She glares at him like the entire idea of it is preposterous, and the memory of walking down the school hallway with her hand in his suddenly flickers through his mind, thoroughly at odds with the venomous tone she's using with him now.

Riven sighs, runs a hand emblazoned with bloody knuckles across the back of his neck. Yeah, he had known something about Silva's escape, but nothing concrete. It had all happened so fast, and he'd already been second-guessing everything once Silva was involved anyway. So a bare second or two of mysterious fumbling in the back of the vehicle just before Silva got away was more than nothing, but all it pointed to was a fairy being involved. And yeah, maybe he had his suspicions about who would have been brave enough - or really, stupid enough - to pull the whole thing off, but he wasn't about to throw anyone to the wolves that were Rosalind and Andreas without actual solid proof, no matter what most of the school currently seemed to think of him.

That betrayal isn't honestly why he's angry with her though. He gets what she did. Why Beatrix picked Andreas. He could tell her it was much the same for him; that Silva was the closest thing he had to a father figure, and maybe she'd understand why he had hidden what little clue he did have about the escape. But ultimately that's just another thing that they have in common, putting family first. They have too many things in common, probably, and it makes his head throb harder.

Right now he needs to focus on the thing that nags at him most, and he holds up a hand to stop her when it looks like she's going to start talking again. "Just tell me one thing. Did you ever like me, or was it just about what I could do for you, how you could put me to use?"

It's not easy to ask the question, feels almost like he has to wrest it from his throat, but it wasn't easy watching Beatrix walk away without a backwards glance when she left him in Rosalind's clutches either.

Beatrix doesn't even wince. Instead she tilts her head, watches him calmly like he's an insect about to be pinned to a board. Riven has seen the exact same look from Andreas. "Does it really matter?"

Riven gets up from the bed, ignoring his protesting thigh muscles, his sore feet and the dizziness that threatens to overwhelm him. He's had worse. He crosses the floor to the door more sluggishly than he'd like, opens it and gestures with his head in an obvious sign for Beatrix to leave. She passes by him, her eyes locked on his. He waits until she's on the other side before he answers.

"It could've."

He shuts the door behind her, certain she hears the resounding click of the lock before her heels move steadily away.

[sageinacage]

Hellooo I saw you were taking requests again!! :D Would you be alright doing a bit of a hurt/comfort ish playful fic like Tommy asking techno to help train him. Techno notices that tommy starts to completely overwork himself and comforts him about like not feeling good enough to be techno's brother and techno playfully tickling him to force him to take a break? I'm sorry if this was a long prompt, it's 4am lol... Thank you so much!! :D

summary: tommy wants to be as strong as his brother techno, but doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to a/n: sorry i haven’t been active this weekend :[ im on the last 3 weeks of school and they’re piling so much stuff WAAAH warnings: swearing, self consciousness, self doubt (this is a hurt/comfort fic!) w/c: 1.6k

DSMP

~

“Techno, how did you get to be so… strong?”

“Hard work, Tommy. A lotta’ hard work.”

Tommy huffed, crossing his arms. That was definitely not the answer he wanted, because the boy wanted to be a force to be reckoned with now. “Well… what kind of hard work?” He egged on, raising an eyebrow in curiosity.

“Well, experience is a big one- I’ve done a lot of fighting and gained a lot of perspective from that… uhhhh… I study books with ancient techniques? I uhhh, let me put some thought into this, kid,”

Techno continued to think, putting a hand to his chin in thought. None of these Tommy liked, as they both took much time, perseverance, and he was just too young to have had as much experience as his brother. “Oh, I’ve trained a lot-”

“Aha! Training! How do I train?” Tommy cheered, almost leaping with how excited he got. The boy assumed he would be able to be unstoppable after one training session, but his older brother didn’t know how to convey that it wasn’t possible- but also didn’t want to crush his spirits at the same time.

“Tommy,” Techno started, then let out a long sigh, “..it’s not that easy. I’d be willing to help but-”

“Let’s go now then, big man!” The blonde exclaimed triumphantly, marching towards the entrance to their house’s backyard. Techno watched him stomp out the room towards the back exit, shaking his head and following the boy.

When he arrived outside, Tommy was already in a set of armor with his sword out, grinning madly at Techno. With an amused huff, the piglin picked up his sword and stood a good distance from in front of him.

“Alright, the first thing is stance. Make sure you’re standing so you’ll be able to block on any side of you.” Techno placed his sword down, heading to Tommy. He gently moved his arms and shoulders to be in a preferred position. The boy stood there, completely stiff like a statue.

“Y’know you gotta loosen up, you need to be able to block and dodge attacks and can’t do that when you’re stone.”

“I gotta be like stone, so I can’t be knocked down!”

Techno shook his head, pushing his hand into Tommy’s side, making him fall on the grass. “That wasn’t fair!” Tommy whined, getting up and brushing the dirt off of his light armor. “All is fair in fights, kid. You never know what your opponent will do.” The piglin explained, pushing up his glasses.

Tommy muttered something under his breath, getting into the fighting stance his brother showed him. “I’m ready!” He announced, Tech sighing. “Tommy, you need to know the basics before going into battle.” He frowned, crossing his arms. “There are no basics in war!” Tommy rebuttals, using the phrase Techno used earlier against him.

“Actually there is-”

“I didn’t ask!” Tommy ran at Techno, falling onto the dirt as the man stepped to the side. “You don’t just run at someone and expect to get a hit on them, smartass.” He playfully flicked his brother’s head, who grumbled and got up, trying to get more hits on Techno.

The piglin continued to step out of the way, eventually sighing and easily disarming him from his blunt training sword.

“Tommy-”

“I can’t do it! How can I even be your brother?! I can barely even hold the sword, it's so heavy! I’m done with this, I’ll never be as strong as you!” Tommy fumed, throwing his armor off and stomping inside the house to go up to his room. Techno put his training sword away, sighing softly. ‘The kid has potential, he just gets ahead of himself.’ Techno thought, then heading inside to go upstairs to check up on his little brother.

“Can I come in?” He knocked on the door, hearing a small ‘no’ from inside. Techno huffed. “Please? I want to talk to you, Toms.” He asked again, then hearing nothing. “Fine.” Tommy gave him permission to come in, which Techno gladly took.

“Hey,” His brother sat at the foot of his bed, looking at him. “You’re just so cool. You’re Technoblade, everyone knows you as strong and scary. And… and I’m just Tommy. The little brother, the obnoxious one.” He ranted, sniffling softly as he curled his knees in and hiding his face.

“I wouldn’t say that, Tommy. I’ve heard people talk about how brave you are, which I’m gonna have to agree with. Also, you’re not obnoxious, I wouldn’t want to hang out with you if you were.” Techno showed him a small smile, opening his arms. Tommy leaped into them, wrapping his arms around his brother and holding his cape with an iron grip.

“Really? People think that?”

“I wouldn’t lie to you about that, kid.”

“I am pretty brave and cool, I gotta say,” Tommy chuckled softly at himself, his giggles slowly growing as Techno sighed at him. “Oh, I’ll give you something to laugh about!” He exclaimed playfully, his dull claws shifting around his waist.

“TEHehehechno!” Tommy made the poor mistake of shifting onto his back, so now he was just sprawled across his brother’s lap, stuck in his tickly grasp. “Tommy!” Techno playfully mocked, snickering at Tommy’s small growl in defiance.

“You’re really brave to try to rebuttal my attack, ain'tcha?” He spoke lowly, slipping one of his hands under Tommy’s loose shirt to lightly scratch at the sensitive skin around his belly. “Yohou suhUHUCK!” He complained, kicking his legs out in front of him. “What did you just say to me? You really are fearless.”

The boy was about to smile triumphantly until a blunt claw gently scritched over the bundle of nerves over his hip bone. “SHIHIHIT- Nohot thahahat!” Tommy complained. “Sohomewhehere else!”

“Y’know Tommy, when I tickle Ranboo right here he’d dip out right away. You must be tough if you can withstand this!” Techno praised, a fond smile washing over his face. Tommy continued to shake his head, the ticklish sensations making him tingle all over.

“Hmmm, let’s see if I could make you break. Highly doubt it for how well you’re taking it though, kid.” He chortled before laying Tommy down and skittering both his fingers up his sides. “IT’S SOHO BAHAHAD!” He arched his back, a wheeze escaping him. The claws continued to explore up his sides, dragging back down before stopping at his upper ribs to scribble over the ticklish skin there.

“WHIHIHIYYY?!” Tommy whined, slamming his arms down. “Because!” Techno smirked, drilling his fingers as they were trapped and he couldn’t wiggle them anymore. “THAHAHAT’S WOHOHORSE!” He screeched, the piglin just laughing. “Then free me, smarty!” His fingers continued to drill and prod as much as they could, shifting up to reach his underarms.

“NOHOHO! IT’LL BEHE EVEN WOHOHORSE!” Tommy grumbled, kicking his legs. “Good observation, Tommy! Never let your enemy get an advantage!” His brother praised again, smiling down at him. The grumpiness in the boy’s tone turned more gleeful, the pinkette grunting in success.

“But what if the enemy planned a surprise attack?!” Techno exclaimed, leaning his head down to blow a raspberry over the upper part of his tummy, repeating the action but on his navel next time. “I WIHILL SUHUHURVIVE!” Tommy retorted, trying to push at his head. “I’d like to see you try.” He challenged, lifting his shirt a small bit before leaning down to place nibbles along his lower belly and around his hips.

“FUHUHUCK! TEHEHECHNOHO!” He threw his head back, still holding onto Techno’s hair but not really pushing him away. Techno was genuinely surprised- usually, his nibbles can kill anyone and make them plead for mercy. “Wow Tommy, you can withstand my nibbles? You must really be a champ, huh kid?” He complimented, smiling at Tommy’s giddy squeal.

Techno knew how much Tommy needed this, he needed to hear how actually brave and tough he was, because the truth was the kid was strong, just needed to hear it to believe it. “You were able to survive that, but can you survive this?” He devilishly smiled, moving his claws over to scritch at his lower tummy as he nibbled up his sides.

“YOHOHOU’RE HOHORRIBLE!” Tommy shrieked, kicking his legs and arching his back, but still wasn’t begging for mercy like Techno thought he would. “Able to survive again? This is like the hardest time I’ve had tiring someone out, Toms.” Techno admitted, Tommy giggling and happily chortling in response. He was genuinely proud of himself, feeling stronger than ever.

“Alright. I give up.” Techno chuckled, pulling his brother in for a hug while he calmed down. “I wohohon!” Tommy announced excitedly, hugging him back. “Yeah yeah, whatever.” The piglin sighed contently, pulling away.

“You know Tommy, being strong is more than just physical strength. You gotta have the right mindset, and you’ve definitely got it. I’ve never met someone as strong-willed, enthusiastic, and brave as you.” Techno explained, rubbing his stomach and side area, trying to help with the after-tickles.

“Reheally?”

“Yeah, really.” Techno chuckled, getting up. “How about I teach you a lesson in some historic techniques in fighting, I think you’ll find it interesting.”

“Books are so boring- ugh, fine.” Tommy crossed his arms, standing up and stretching, before following his brother out of the room. “What were you boys doing?! I thought Tommy was being attacked for a hot minute.” Phil laughed from the kitchen, seeing them walk by. “I beat Techno in a tickle fight, that’s what happened!” Tommy laughed, nudging his brother.

“Yep. He beat me. Strong kid, I tell ‘ya.”

[byuntrash101]

Ahhhh I just wanna try this out but I really don't know what I want. I just know that I want bbh 😩

1. Bday: Feb. 27, 1999 (I was born at 5:35 AM UTC+8 if that's important lmao)

2. Baekhyun 😭

3. I'm letting you take the wheel man. I trust you.

4. I love smut. But if you think it doesn't fit us then I'm fine with none.

It's okay if you don't accept this request though. I will forever be here silently reading your stories 🤗

Hello Anon! OMG you're so so cute!!!! Thank you for reading. I didn't know what you wanted so i went with something cute and a little angsty. I hope you enjoy ^^ don't hesitate to tell me :D

Warnings - angst (kinda), shower sex, body worship (f), oral (f)

Eternal Beauty - Pisces!Reader & Taurus!Baekhyun

When you push in the door of your appartement tonight you feel bummed out, saddened and heavy hearted. Your job as a model was, most of the time, fulfilling and it was amazing getting to be the part of an artistic process such as the making of a collection of clothes. You liked to catwalk or pose for photoshoots. You liked to look at the stylish piece together beautiful outfits and you liked to see the make-up artists do their magic. As a Pisces woman art and spirituality was a big part of you and having it as part of your job felt just right.

But unfortunately there were days, like today, that it wasn’t picture perfect. You auditioned to catwalk at the Paris Fashion Week for Céline. One of the designers you’ve admired ever since you started your career. And you got the job, yes, but originally they said you were going to close the show and wear the center piece. A gorgeous destructed ball gown inspired by grunge and underground culture. But alas, they announced today that they decided to go with somebody else.

What was supposed to be an accomplishment for you turned bitter as you couldn't help but to see it as a failure. You should be happy to be a part of the show. That only is already a great accomplishment but… you can’t.

Your creative nature comes with a downside because your imagination serves you to escape reality but sometimes it also takes your brain to dark places, washing your own confidence away, down the drain.

Baekhyun, a true Taurus, didn't pick up right away that something was wrong with your mood. You usually like to spend time on your own so it didn’t ring any bells when you simply said hello and went straight to the shower. Pisces when hurt tend to seek solitude.

But even if the bull isn’t notorious to be discreet he’s still far from dumb so when you seem to take a little too long he comes in.

“Sweetheart…” he’s hesitant. “Are you okay?” you sniffle.

“Yeah, yeah I’m fine” you lie.

Baekhyun knows it.

“Can I come with you?” he asks, still hesitant.

“Yeah” you huff out, rubbing the tears away with more water.

When he steps in the big Italian style shower he notices right away your watery eyes and your pinkish reddish nose. And he knows you’ve been crying. The taurus man can’t stand seeing the ones he loves hurt so his first reaction is anger.

“Who did that to you?” His big voice bounces off the wall and makes you flinch. It’s the last thing you need right now. You feel fragile and hurt, you don’t need to hear yelling. When your eyes fill up with tears again, Baekhyun hugs you.

“My baby girl” he cooes as you quietly sob in his arms. “What happened?” he says, trying to catch your gaze.

So you tell him the whole story and somehow talking out loud about your struggles has lessened them. Baekhyun and you work together beautifully and harmoniously. You give him the whim he sometimes lacks and he’s able to ground you in like the stable and robust earth sign he is.

“Maybe I wasn't pretty enough?” you let out, repressing a sob, your lip trembling. There it is. The mean thought that you have been throwing at yourself ever since the big news this afternoon. The thought that has been eating away at your confidence.

“What?!?” Baekhyun says outraged. You chuckle cutely at his exaggerated reaction.

“My baby, you are the most beautiful woman on earth” he says as he attacks you with kisses in the crook of your neck as warm water runs down your back.

“Stop it” you say, nudging him.

“Baby I’m dead serious. I’ve never seen anybody or anyone as pretty, as gorgeous, as kind, as imaginative as caring as you. You’re beautiful in every way inside and out.” he looks at you with those eyes full of love that you can’t resist.

“I’ll prove it to you” he gets on his knees and bows his head to you. Which as you smiling from ear to ear. “You’re absolutely perfect, stunning you’re my goddess” he whispers. as he brings his hands to your chest. “Your stunning breasts” he presses a kiss onto your hip. “Your beautiful stomach” his hands go down to your back and bottom. “Your ravishing piece of ass” he presses another kiss to you pubic bone “and your heavenly, delicious little pussy”

He presses an open mouth kiss to your bundle of nerves, you let a moan out. He sticks his tongue out and wraps it around your clit, his warm tongue feels good and you let your head rest on the tiles of the shower.

“Fuck baby, you taste so good” Baekhyun says as he gets more impatient, attacking your swollen bud with small bites and sucking on it. “My goddess, my beautiful goddess” he whispers lips pressed to yours, sending vibrations to your core.

“Baekhyun, don't stop” you cry out. You needy moans make Baekhyun double his efforts.

“Cum my goddess. Please cum all over my mouth”

You feel your walls clench on themselves as you throb on Baekhyun’s skilfull tongue, moaning and panting, hand entangled with his wet locks of hair.

When you settle down Baekhyun gets back up and wraps his arm around you. Before laying a soft kiss on your lips, the taste of your cum spread in your mouth.

“You’ll book other shows, my love. In the meantime, could you model for me forever? My beautiful eternal goddess” he whispers as he beams at you.

[mggpleasedontlookhere]

adams

request: Hi! I have a request, could you do one where the reader is a part of the BAU team, and she’s dating Spence, and she’s watching him interrogate Cat Adams, and she has to hear her say that she’s pregnant with Spence’s baby? Thanks!

for: @mggbler​

word count: 2,965                                                                                                reading time aprox: 11 mins 

a/n: so i’m back? also another thing, if you are requesting an imagine, id really appreciate it if you had your username listed as it will be much easier to tag you, but it is whatever you’re comfortable with <3

masterlist

My fingertips drummed against the cool concrete frame that lined the two-way window. My feet were firmly planted on the hard floors of the prison as I gazed intensely at the scene before me. An ember lit aflame inside of me as Cat Adams tantalizingly edged closer towards Spencer, diminishing the proximity between their faces. Every tedious inch she took, I dissociated farther and farther away into my headspace; although I could still hear her pretentious tone through my earpiece as she brushed her fingers against Spencer’s eyelids. 

“Close your eyes”  

This is bullshit. 

“Good, now keep them shut. Sit back and relax” 

I turned my head aside to look away, pinching the inner crevice of my elbow to regain my sense of reality. My composure was noticeably calm on the exterior, something I’ve picked up in the years of working at the BAU, but the expanding coil of indignation continued to wind as time passed. 

My patience had always been one of my greatest virtues, yet Cat Adams was able to deteriorate that virtue with her nonchalant fingers softly grazing the skin of Spencer’s hands, the licking of her lips as she whispered suggestive words on his neck, and that flame in her eyes that convinced her she was all-powerful. 

“Now when you open your eyes...I want you to look at me like I’m the first woman you’ve seen after being in prison for three months” 

I breathed through my lips, reassuring myself of Spencer’s affections. Yet an insurmountable amount of insecurity peaked into the bottom of my stomach, clawing its way up to my throat. I felt restrained within my own skin, combating the urge to pick and pry at the flesh. 

“If she touches…” I muttered to myself, biting the inside of my cheek as my words trailed off into uncomfortable anticipation. 

“You’re here! You’re really here” Cat celebrated, welcoming Spencer in her chaotic delusion. A mischievous grin appeared on her lips, Spencer fabricating a benevolent facade as he let himself grow comfortable in her scheme. 

 “There is nowhere else I would rather be” Spencer replied with many endeavors, sending a chilling shot through my chest. 

 It’s fake...it’s all fake 

“You’re good at this...you’re so good at this” Cat shook her head, gazing at Spencer with much admiration and recognition. “I almost believe you don’t want to kill me” She teased. 

 “I don’t want to kill you” Spencer hastily admitted, replicating Cat’s gaze of fervor. As ironic as it seemed, it became a game of cat and mouse. Who would concede first? 

 “What if I let your mother die?” Cat blurted out, gauging at Spencer’s reaction to her explicit words. But to no avail, Spencer expressed no tells or twitches that would give away his robust collectedness. “Then would you kill me?” She continued. 

 Spencer stared at her with an unimpressed look, unfazed by the mention of his mother. A small smirk resided on the corners of his supple lips, raising his eyebrows in a lack of interest as if the lifeless walls of the room seemed blasé. 

 “Oh...my mistake” She paused, chuckling to herself as a devious Cheshire grin appeared on her lips. “What about Y/N?” She spat. 

 How did she…

 The once present smirk on Spencer’s face faltered, yet he remained his fortitude. He closed in on her, peering at her in suspicion. “What about Y/N?” Spencer reiterated, using reverse psychology to throw her off. 

 Cat pushed herself off the edge of the table, leaning back into her chair with an impervious attitude. “Cut the crap Spencie, I know about your little romance” She taunted humorously, rolling her eyes as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “I know about the little pet you keep around” She badgered, causing a chink off of Spencer’s armor to be revealed. 

 My fists clenched beside me, absorbing the evident frustration coursing through my veins. I cringed as I bit down on the muscle of my cheeks, the taste of metal coating my tongue momentarily. I kept myself grounded for the sake of the interrogation, but if the life of Diana and Spencer wasn’t on the line, I would be the one interviewing the psychotic bitch myself. 

 “I thought we were supposed to be talking about my mother” Spencer breathed out, leaning back in his chair to cover up for his slip in character. 

 “You know what’s the best part, Spencie?” Cat leaned over the table, ignoring the words Spencer had previously spoken and hovered a few inches away from his ear. For a moment she deviated her focus from Spencer and directed it towards the two-way glass. Even in the split second, she broke away from her main target, you could see the mischief and ego festering in the pit of her eyes. “I know she’s watching us...I know how much it’s killing her just watching us” Cat seduced, trailing her fingertips suggestively up Spencer’s arm. 

Spencer tore his shoulder away from her roughly, pulling up the cuffs of his sleeves in a sensible manner. “You said you wanted to play a game earlier,” Spencer reminded her, battling the urge to prove Cat wrong and reassure the woman on the other side of the glass. “Is it the same as last time?” 

 “Oh Spencie…” Cat sighed, retracting herself back to her seat. Suddenly her stare drifted back to the two-way glass, and with as much authority she can harbor, she peered through the mirror with much affliction. “I can’t wait till she finds out about Mexico” She blurted out in faux innocence. 

 This pricked at Spencer’s ears, leading him to profile the words that spilled out her mouth. “What happened in Mexico?” He inquired, pressing her on the missing fragments of his whereabouts that lead to his arrest. She simply tiptoed around his request, taunting him as she refused to take her blazing eyes off the glass. 

A loud bang reverberated off the walls. This caused Cat’s attention to halt as it shifted towards the source of the ringing sound, only to find out that it was Spencer’s hand harshly slamming against the table. “What happened in Mexico?” Spencer reiterated once again, but this time his tone barely held back the chagrin clouding his rationality. The booming volume of his usually gentle voice complimented the aftershock of the wood beneath his palm as it still rattled underneath his force. 

“Are you getting a little aggressive Spencie? I didn’t even know you were capable of that” She mocked, tucking her arms to her side while her hands roamed the circumference of her stomach. Spencer glared at her incredulously, deciding that he had enough of her drudging ploys. He pushed his chair back, making the motion to get up and leave the room, but before he had the opportunity to stand up, two words were revealed into the already perturbed air.  

“I’m pregnant,” 

Spencer froze in his spot, taking a moment to breathe before shaking his head and proceeding towards the door. I scoffed in disgust, waiting for Spencer on the other side of the door. Even for Cat this was low. 

 I can’t imagine anyone using pregnancy for their own gai-

 “...actually we’re pregnant, Spencie” 

Everything stilled. Oxygen refused to fill my lungs and my blood ran cold. The same seemed to occur with Spencer as his feet were motionless like he was stuck in a fragment of time. The words kept passing through me like waves echoing from a cymbal, only this time it was endless. No matter what I did, the words never resonated in my head. I became deaf, some may say that I was in denial. But I heard it. I heard it slip past as a whisper on her lips. 

 I felt numb for what seemed like an eternity. But it was that same numbness that I wished never went away, so I wouldn’t have felt the overwhelming sickness that came after. My stomach boiled with an uncomfortable sensation. The ringing descended into the quiet of my mind as clarity began to flood my consciousness. 

That’s not...that’s not possible

Cat did it. She found a way--a loophole. 

Can it be possible?

I suppressed the paralyzing thoughts into a small compartment of my mind, letting a small murmur of reason dictate my actions. With naive hope, I rushed to a guard to request a Cat’s health records with much haste. After the small interaction, all I could do was wait.  

Wait for answers. Wait for the truth. 

Yet again my virtues were being tested. I thought the first time I would harbor an immense uneasiness over pregnancy, it would be my own. I was imprisoned in my own doubts and speculation, but I can’t even begin to comprehend the thoughts that are permeating the dark place of Spencer’s mind. 

What does this mean for me and...

No, I can’t think like that. She’s probably lying. 

But what if…

I shook the thoughts out of my head, focusing on the grey-tinted walls that surrounded me. I forced myself to fixate on how the overhead light reflected on the shiny tiles beneath my feet, while I let the background noises of an operating prison engulf my sense of hearing. 

But nothing could ever prevent my buried thoughts from climbing out from the back of my subconscious. Nothing could stop the anticipation that coursed through my veins, threatening to stop my heart altogether.  

Nothing could’ve stopped me from knowing. 

-

The cold zing of the walls was the only thing that tethered me to reality. I felt the way my hip bones would shift under my weight as I sat motionless in the hallway. I felt the pressure and ache that began to build under my knees as they were pressed against my chest. A heavy film cast over my eyelids, making it exhausting for me to keep them open. There was an agonizing shackle tugging at my chest, restraining me from taking a fresh breath. I was battered and beaten, not physically, but mentally. 

With two words, Cat Adams had managed to send me spiraling down a sinkhole that I didn’t know how to get out of. I was stuck, encased in my own headspace. I didn't know what was worse: being in prison or being imprisoned by the person you detested the most. 

I thought the worst was over when she confessed to her pregnancy. I thought the anguish that I experienced hit its climax. But little did I know that the growing hole in my chest only consumed me further when I found out she was telling the truth. 

In bold letters, ‘pregnant’ was displayed on the front of her health records. Now they were measly tossed to the floor in a flurry of confusion and anger. 

A choked breath emerged from my esophagus, finally feeling the full impact of the circumstances that I was in the middle of. I was furious, dazed, and somber simultaneously, and I didn’t know if it was for me or Spencer. 

Spencer…

Does he know it's true? Would he know?

He wouldn’t have chea…? No, he wouldn’t 

As if it was the answer to my inquiries, the clatter of footsteps resounded from the head of the hallway, the clacks against the floor growing in volume as they approached me. Stunned by my own senses, I didn’t even notice the sight of grey fabric coming in from my peripheral view. 

It was only until I heard the rhythmic beat of the footsteps faltering in a slower pace till they stopped completely. Suddenly, a tender hand apprehensively reached out from beside me. Warmth instantly radiated off its palm as it battled with the chilled temperature of my skin. Then, a voice, belonging to Spencer, followed the small gesture in a quaint and reserved tone. 

“I…” He paused, intertwining his fingers with mine. “I know I haven’t talked about Mexico--or prison for the matter. I know that sometimes I close myself up in a box and hideaway, and you tell me it's okay if I’m not comfortable,” He swallowed his words for a moment, staring at his sprawled-out legs in front of him as he struggled to find the right words. “But I also know how much it hurts you when I do…” He uttered out. “I know that it hurts you when JJ’s the only person I can talk to about what happened” He turned his head to gauge my reception, but all I could bring my attention to was the soreness in my chest at his mentions. 

“Did you know?” I meekly whispered. 

“I don’t...I don’t know” Spencer answered unsurely. His voice seemed depleted of any assurance he carried with him when it came to his knowledge. I guess that was a common denominator between us in the present circumstance. “I don’t...I don’t know what she did” He sucked in a sharp breath, careful to let his words teeter around the break in his voice. 

“She’s really pregnant Spence…” I muttered, squeezing the clutch he had on my hand. “It’s gonna be okay Spence. I know you would never…” My voice trailed off into the uncertainty of my words, yet the hope that was latched onto me prevailed. “There’s more to this, I know it” I stated with much determination. 

“What if it’s...it’s mine?” He gasped, a melancholy air following his statement. 

“Well, you didn’t, you know-” 

“No, I--I would never” He finished the sentence, racking his head for clues. 

“Then there has to be someone el-”  

“She did something,” Spencer cut me off. “When I was in there, she told me that Lindsey--she got me to…”. By the wavering of his voice, I knew where this was headed. “A-and she told Lindsey to pretend that she was you…” He scoffed, shaking his head in self-reproach.  

“Spence…” I tried to stop him from his own demise, but I knew the second he started sputtering words, there would be no mercy to it. 

“She started mocking you and my mom, and that’s when...I don’t--I” He paused, licking his lips. “I felt so angry--more than I’ve ever had in my life--and I just,” He retracted his hand from mine in an instant, brushing the stray hairs away from his face. “I pushed her Y/N. I pushed her against the wall and I started--gosh--I started choking her Y/N”. The structure of his tone fizzled out into a meek mumble, an indication that he was battling his internal demons. 

The guilt and agony on his face were enough to devastate an entire colony. So much weight and history hung on the surface of his shoulders that it was starting to deteriorate. “I’m...I’m scared that this is who I am now” He lamented, picking at the small pebbles that littered the floor. 

“No, don’t say that” I protested. 

“Y/-Y/N, you don’t know…” He sighed. 

“I do know” I affirmed, reaching out to clasp his hand in mine once again. “I know you had to do things in prison, things you aren’t proud of, but anyone in your position would have done the same-”  

“You wouldn’t have”  

“Yes. Yes, I would have Spence” I remarked. “If someone threatened my life, if...if someone threatened my chance of seeing you again...”. I placed a gentle hand under his chin, making our eyes meet. “You bet your ass I would. It doesn’t make you a bad person” I finished my spiel, looking into his dull eyes in the hopes he would recognize that I meant every word.

“Then why do I feel like this? I’ve let down the team, my mom, and you…” 

I cupped his face in my hands, although he refused to look at me in the eyes. “Spence,” I breathed. “You have not done a single thing to disappoint anybody” I shook my head as my voice trembled under the weight of the conversation. “If you disappointed anyone, then why is the entire team working to get this psychotic bitch on death row? Why are they trying to save your mom? Why do I love you?” I professed, every endearing word flowing out of my lips with ease.  

Silence encompassed both of us, but the dense atmosphere still created an evident divide. Suddenly, he met my eyes with his solemn ones, but something was different. A minuscule glint of prospect flashed in the pool of his irises. The color and life began to emerge from the dreariness of his countenance and the warmth of his skin began to crimson his cheeks. A relieved gasp escaped my lips as he peered at me with much endearment. 

“Do you really think that?” He whispered. I nodded in response, taking my bottom lip into my teeth as I took in the beauty of his rejuvenating presence. From there I knew Spencer would slowly fill up again. I knew it was going to be hard, but I also knew that I wouldn’t hesitate to take every step with him. 

 “I know that everything isn’t clear right now Spence. But I think--I know--that you’re the only person here that can solve this” 

 “You’re wrong” He breathed. 

 I stared at him with a baffled expression, encouraging him to continue his position. 

“I can’t...I wouldn’t be able to do all of this,” He rested his hand on the apple of my cheek, caressing the supple skin with his thumb. “...not without you” 

-

taglist: @rexorangecouny​ @howdycharlie​ @linthebinbag​ @honeymilk-4​ @andreasworlsboring101​

[whimsicallyreading]

Who Cares

Masterlist

Hunt was soaked in blood.

From beneath his chin, to the toes of his heavy, leather boots. It coated him like a second layer of crimson skin, and Hunt was aware that anyone who came across him would think he was a walking nightmare.

This wasn’t the first or last time he’d walked around publicly in such a state. The Umbra Mortis was no fairy tale told to keep children in bed. He was a living, breathing male that walked the streets of Lunathion daily.

Bryce’s new public status meant that cameras followed her everywhere. Hunt’s name was elevated with hers, but people hesitated pointing their lenses at him. They still cleared the sidewalks when he passed by.

It stung.

Hunt landed on the roof of their apartment and made the slow descent to his floor. Red foot prints followed his wake but he didn’t look back at those. He would leave a tip for the janitor later.

He stepped through the door and kicked off his shoes. Bryce, on the other hand, would murder him if they ruined her rugs.

A low, rumbling ground broke through the silence and Syrinx came barreling from his crate. The little beast charged at the intruder prepared to chew their bones with his need-like teeth.

“Syrinx,” Hunt huffed and got down on his knees. “If you bite my ass again I’m going to turn you into a pair of socks.”

Syrinx skidded to a halt, taking Hunt in with his amber eyes. Once he recognized the male under the blood, his tongue flopped out and his disposition sweetened.

“There you are, Beastie.” Hunt scratched Syrinx’s ears. “Bryce will be home soon and I need to go wash off before she sees me. I’ll take you on a walk after. How is that?”

Syrinx made happy, snuffling sounds and pranced back to his bed. Content to finish his nap and wait for all of his friends to arrive.

Hunt opened the door to his bathroom. Bryce had all but moved him into her room, but claimed this room still belonged to him. She wanted him to have the autonomy of his own space.

Hel, he loved her.

They also shared her bathroom now. Conserving water was her rational for that. Hunt didn’t want the blood to stain her tub, though, so he would use this shower.

Isaiah had called to inform him of a couple shifter radicals, intent on usurping the Wolves of the city and attempting to plant bombs in Moonwood. His friend was loathe to ask, but Hunt understood the request.

Dispatch them quietly.

Hunt wouldn’t deny that was his forte, and Isaiah asking out of respect was different than doing it because Micah ordered.

He is was halfway through cleaning the feathers of his left wing when he heard the apartment door slam open.

“Hunt,” Bryce’s voice screamed, filled with pain and terror.

Leaping from the shower, Hunt barely wrapped a towel around his waist before bursting into the living room.

Bryce was standing by the front door next to his bloodied boots. Her face was pale, legs trembling, and tears were running down her freckled cheeks.

“Bryce, what the Hel is wrong?” He gripped her shoulders and scanned her body for damage. Nothing was out of place besides the tears ruining her makeup.

Mentally he was swearing, if one of those fae bastards had harassed her again on her way home he would-

“There was blood-“ Bryce choked between sobs. “All the way down the hallway. On the walls. The floor, I thought, I thought-“

Shit. He was an idiot.

Hunt pulled her to his chest, neither caring that he was wet or that one wing was still stained and dirty. He could feel Bryce’s heart racing, and her whole body shook in his arms.

He carded his fingers through her hair. “Shit. I’m so sorry, Sweetheart.”

Bryce thought she was walking into another massacre. Another body. Another friend and another love death. He must have made a bigger mess than he’d thought.

“I didn’t know you had a job today,” she cried, her face stilled pressed into his chest. “You can’t do that to me.”

“I’m really freaking sorry,” Hunt apologized, feeling more like a bastard with every sob. “Isaiah called and I didn’t even think to call you.”

Bryce leans back and slams a fist again his chest, and damn if it didn’t hurt. “You moron! You didn’t even consider letting me know?”

Her sorrow was replaced with a burning rage that confused Hunt. “It wasn’t a serious job. Just messy. I didn’t think it was important. I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.”

“I don’t care if you think it’s important,” Bryce growled, her freckles scrunched as her face contorted in anger. “It doesn’t have to be important. I care about you. I want to know because I care if you come home looking like a freaking reaper.”

Hunts eyebrows drew together, “It’s just my job, Bryce. I’m lucky to have one.”

“I know it’s your job,” her voice becomes quiet and her eyes look pained. “But don’t lie and say it doesn’t take a toll on you. We are mirrors, remember? You can’t lie to me. If I’d known I would have been here waiting for you.”

Hunt takes a risk and dips in to kiss Bryce. Nothing like the swift pecks they often exchanged, this was deep and passionate. He gripped the back of her hand in his fist and pulled Bryce closer to him.

When they pulled back, she looked flustered.

“I know you care,” Hunt chokes around the emotion building inside him. “It just surprises me how much sometimes.”

Bryce sighs and takes his hand, leading him back to the shower he left running. He sits on the side of the tub, still in his towel as she picks up a loofa and gets to work on his other wing.

They are silent as she works. Hunt can scent the fear that’s still leeching its way from her system. When she finishes, Hunt wets a rag and wipes the makeup and tears from under her eyes. He presses a kiss to each one when they are cleaned.

“You have a different kind of love Bryce,” He whispers foreheads pressed together. “I’ve never met a heart like yours. Sometimes the honor that you’ve made a place for me inside of it still hits me. I’m truly sorry for scaring you.”

Bryce looks up at him, her red lashes brushing against her eyebrows. “I wish you would stop forgetting that you aren’t alone anymore. You won’t ever be alone again, Hunt. I care if you are okay.”

Tears sting his eyes and he blinks them back. What a foreign concept. He’d spent most of his life in servitude but here was this girl, a literal princess who cared if he came home in a good mental state. Who’d washed him more than once. Who got a spark in her eyes whenever she saw him experiencing or enjoying something new.

Bryce, who made sure he had autonomy in their home, their relationship, their things. Because she wanted his freedom for him even when Hunt didn’t think he needed it.

“You aren’t alone either,” Hunt kisses her again. Deeper. More frantically.

Her hair is damp from the steam and sticks to his skin but he couldn’t care less as her arms wrap around his shoulders. Bryce cups both sides of his face in an iron grip.

Hunt lifts her off her feet and they stumble into the hall when they hear a gasp.

They rip apart and Bryce’s eyes widen in mortification at the couple standing at the door. “Mom! What the hel are you doing here?”

Ember and Randall are staring at them from the doorway. The latter looks like he wants to run back at the door or decapitate Hunt. Ember seems unbothered, her hands resting on her hips and a tight grin.

“Did you forget we were coming? Of course you did,” Ember sighs. “Tell your Angel to go put some clothes on, and perhaps clean yourself up as well?”

“I’m going to kill him,” Randall manages to strangle out, he looks to his wife. “Ember, I’m going to kill him.”

Ember rolls her eyes, “You can kill him later.” Her steely look turns towards Bryce. “We’ve had a long trip and I can assume you don’t have a room ready for us?”

Bryce murmurs under her breath away as she ushers Hunt out of sight. “Give me twenty minutes and I’ll have Hunt’s room ready.”

“We will be waiting,” Ember sings as she and Randall drop their bags by the front door.

Bryce’s bedroom door shuts behind them and Hung runs a stressed hand through his damp hair. “That’s not how I wanted to officially meet your parents.”

“Well get over it,” Bryce throws a pair of shorts at him. “Nothing ever goes as planned with them.”

Hunt can’t help but think being almost naked and making out with their daughter had to at least be on the worst end of that spectrum. Still, he was resolved to try and fix this. He wants to exceed their expectations of a boyfriend.

For Bryce? There wasn’t much he wouldn’t do. How hard could impressing her human parents be? They’d chatted over video call before. He liked both of them. Hunt can rectify this situation, he assures himself.

At least, he hopes he can.

What happens when Val’s client never arrived for their appointment? She stress writes quinlar fluff on her phone while sitting on a grooming table. Hope you guys enjoy <3 

Taglist- (let me know if you would like to be added or removed :D)

@cursebreaker29

@firestarsandseneschals

@royalsqueeze

@julemmaes

@tillyrubes10

@live-the-fangirl-life

@ghostlyrose2

[bowieandqueen11]

Luke Crain Headcanons

Request: Hi🥺I’m usually not to good about making request but I’m trying to breakout of my shell on that cause you are an amazing writer and I love everything you write!! But can I request a Luke Crain headcanon where you guys grew up together but distanced while he was in rehab but you came back together after what happened with Nellie! Thank you so much you’re an angel🥺💛 

Thank you SO much @cathrinexxxv​ I LOVE LUKE CRAIN! Also I’m so ready to binge watch all of Bly Manor tomorrow!! <3

You and Luke first met when you were very young. As in, really really little. To this day, you’re still constantly teasing him and making him blush smile about his huge magnifying pair of glasses and his obsession with bowler hats.

You and your family used to live in the small village which was a fifteen minute walk away from the looming heights of Hill House, so when a rumour started spreading down the houses that a new family full of children were moving in for the summer, you, naturally, were intrigued.

One night, when you had heard from your mother that the new family had moved in, you sneaked out your back garden on a warm afternoon before dinner, cutting through the dark and dingy forest until you reached the outskirts of the property. Seeing a boy around your own age sitting on his own on the burnt grass, you waved to Luke from behind the branch of a nearby, crooked oak tree. He was startled, to say the least, but as he watched you hide slightly behind the bark, he was surprised to find he wasn’t scared in the slightest.

He felt as if he almost knew you already. As if this was always meant to happen, that you were meant to find each other here.

Nudging his glasses back up the bridge of the nose, he shyly waved back. Once he finally realised that you weren’t going to budge from your hiding place, nervous from the stories your neighbours had told you about this house, he decided to pick up his crayons in one fist and his paper in the other, before he sets off half stumbling, half stomping along the uneven ground towards you.

When he finally reaches the trunk, he stops and looks at you kind of funnily, tilting his head slightly before he decides the right reaction was to smile at you.

‘My name is Luke Crain. Do you want to play with me? All my siblings ignore me and they don’t want to draw with me.’

The two of you spent the rest of the afternoon huddled under the shaking leaves, sitting on the roots of the tree, Luke tracing out a picture and you giggling as you tried to bump his hand out of the way to colour it in.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Nellie loved you of course, and saw you as her honorary best friend as well, as did the rest of the siblings (even though Shirley would never admit it, and Theo was too stubborn to), which meant constant sleepovers at Hill House.

Hugh would always chuckle and shake his head when he peeked into Luke and Nellie’s room, seeing Nell asleep on a red bean bag with a half open bag of sweets lying deserted by her feet, and you and Luke sprawled out on the mat by the iron railings of his bed, snoring. 

You were also the only one he allowed up into his treehouse. Although, sometimes he was too embarrassed to let you, or his siblings, in, because he had stuck pictures up on the wall of the drawings he had tried to do of you.

Growing up with Luke also meant having to calm him down after he starts seeing the tall, floating ghost. Sometimes you would try to climb up the ivy outside of his bedroom window, only to topple into the house headfirst when you start to hear Luke’s high pitched screaming coming from under his bed. Although Olivia would come running in, she would always end up comforting sobbing Nellie, as Luke would only grab onto you, the two of you sitting on the edge of his bed as you remind him the rule.

‘Breathe in and out Luke, that’s it. In and out, seven times - that’s what keeps you safe.’

‘Eight’, he would say with a trembling breath. ‘Eight times. You’re my family too.’

The two of you were gutted when Luke had to move away, but your parents could already see how close the two of you were, and so decided that a move away and a new school for you, perhaps, wasn’t the worst idea. Especially, they decided, since you had been there that night as well.

Although the two of you were close for the whole of your childhood, it takes Luke until he’s eighteen years old to realise just how long he’s really been in love with you. It takes some nudging on from Nellie, pointing out how you would run up to his locker during breaks between classes and just fill him in on how your day was going - each break, no matter how long it had been, without fail. Luke was the only person you wanted to talk to, and from the look of pure delight on Luke’s face as he leans against his locker door and gives his full, undivided attention to you, you’re the only person he wants to listen to.

Or how, Nellie would continue, you would come round to their house for dinner, and although Aunt Janet tried to separate the two of you by sitting you opposite each other, you would just spend the whole dinner ignoring whatever Theo was talking about and giving each other funny looks as you kicked each other in the shin.

Or, when the two of you got a bit older, and you would sneak out of your dorm to visit him in the middle of the night, throwing little rocks at his window until his curtains would rustle and the window latch would be thrown open, his grinning face peering down at you. Despite having spent the whole weekend together, reading to each other in the town’s local library, or just lying shoulder to shoulder watching movies, the two of you would sit out in his garden, on the dewy grass, constantly craving each other’s company. You made him blush one night, when you suddenly grabbed his hand and intertwined his growing fingers over your smaller ones, pointing up at the moon, and the glowing stars, not realising the little side eye, euphoric look he would give you. 

That’s when he finally realised how immensely, and terrifyingly in love with you he was.

It scared him, to realise this, but deep down he knew it had always been you.

He has so many nightmares though. So many nights are spent with his head lying heavy in your lap, as you brush through his golden hair, trying to shush him and calm him down, or rocking him as he cries into your shoulder because of the nightmares he has about his mother, or about Abigail.

As the two of you start to escape your teenage years, and the wishful chasing after each other that came with it, your relationship becomes slightly more strained when he starts using. You choose to move in with Nellie for a while, once he finally goes to rehab. When she gets married, and you're forced to find somewhere new to live, you think you'll never hear from the Crains again - you get the odd visit from Nell, or Theo, but they're so busy enjoying the newly wed life, or studying for their degree that it's not enough - nothing fills the hole that comes from missing Luke. 

It hurts that he never comes to see you, but little did you know that he used to sit at his little beige desk every night, underneath the barred window, just staring up at the moon as he bit on the edge of his pen, a feeling of such wistfulness and loneliness and longing weighing down his chest.

He used to write you a letter, every day, just pouring out all the feelings he was too afraid to tell you, but he always crumples them up and throws them away, too scared to send them.

When Steve phones you up to tell you the news about Nellie’s passing, you told him to immediately come and pick you up.

You're terrified when you open the door and walk out into the bone chilling night to hug him, your heart thumping in your chest when he tells you about how Luke has left rehab again and is somewhere out on the streets, probably using. It breaks your heart, but you know you have to be the one to find him, to bring him back.

When you reach him, and see the man you've loved since you were a child wandering, shoeless and shivering along the freezing, cracked pavement, muttering to himself, you can’t help a tear slip out as you unbuckle your seatbelt and hop out of Steve’s rental.

Luke is so terrified, he doesnt recognise you for a second. It’s only a second, though, before his eyes widen and he pounces on you, wrapping you into him so familiarly, his frame looming large above you but yet feels so fragile in your grasp as he buries his head into the side of your neck and starts crying.

‘I’m so, so cold, Y/n, and my arms are s-s-so stiff, and I’m s-so sorry, I’m so sorry-’

You can’t bear to tell him the news, so you just hold the nape of his neck and pull him tight against your chest, hating the way his whole body shakes in your hold.

On the day of Nell’s funeral, he doesn't leave your side once - it’s as if the two of you had never been separated at all. As everyone files in through the main door, ignoring the sour face on Shirley as they wander into the reception area, you and Luke just sit knee to knee on the couch opposite the entryway.

‘I tried to write to you,’ he starts, as he fumbles a cigarette from out of his breast pocket and tucks it away behind his ear, trying to busy himself with anything so he doesn’t have to meet your confused eyes, and so you don’t have to see the guilt ridden in his. ‘I want you to know that. Nellie kept on telling me off, but i just didn't know how to say what i needed to say to you.’

‘Luke, its okay, i understand how difficult it was for you-’

‘No-no, Y/n, no more excuses! You mean so much to me and i- i cant... i can't lose anyone else. Just-’

He's so gentle when he finally reaches over and kisses you, trying to shake off his fear and just show you what he meant instead. His suit rumples against your chest as he smooshes himself against you, cupping your cheeks softly with his large hands as he tilts you to the side to meet him in a needy, a desperate, a long anticipated kiss. 

He doesn’t pull away - he can't - until you finally break for air, and only then does he finally concede and places his forehead against yours with a soft thud, just closing his eyes in both agony and bliss.

‘I’m sorry that took me so long to do.’

‘It was worth the wait. Although, I have to be honest, your timing has always been rubbish.’

He chuckles, his deep voice vibrating against your chest as he rests his head on your shoulder like a lost puppy, gazing up at you with those wide, lost eyes, and for the first time you can finally see the adoration and awe and just pure love that’s always been in them.

For the rest of the reception. before he tells you of his plans to go back and burn Hill House to the ground, is spent with the two of you escaping from his siblings by stepping outside and sitting on Shirley’s porch. Your arms stay linked tightly together, as if afraid to let go again, and his coat is wrapped around both of your shoulders as he rests against you, just content to be surrounded by your presence.

[aliwritesfic]

Night Shift Part 3 (F!Reader x Frankie Morales)

Summary: Yours and Frankie’s weekends take very different turns

Word Count: 2K

Warnings: Emotionally abusive relationship, very brief mention of drug use, drinking, T*m D*vis makes an appearance

Part 1 Part 4

Frankie slept better that week than he had in months. Every night was long, uninterrupted, mercifully dreamless sleep. The diner had done exactly what he had hoped. When he awoke that Saturday afternoon, he felt better than he had in ages. He hummed while he rummaged through the refrigerator, grabbing out some leftover padthai and throwing it in the microwave.

Each night that week, a routine between you and him had formed. You’d work, barely exchanging words until the dinner rush was completed, then you’d make him a coffee and he’d make you something to eat. You’d requested something different each night, and each night you’d spoken to him a little more. Some nights you were in a better mood than others, but he quickly realised it wasn’t personal against him.

He found he was a little disappointed when he woke up that afternoon and remembered that it was his day off. If he was being honest with himself, he’d grown to enjoy your company. Something about you intrigued him, made him want to get to know you more.

Frankie spent getting stuff together for poker night with the boys. It was his turn to host, so all he had to do was make sure that his dining room table was clear and his portable speaker was charged. 

While he got ready, his mind kept wandering back to you.

He thought of the way you had a different smile for certain customers. The truly genuine one was reserved for only a select few of your favourites. He felt himself hoping that one day you’d give him one of those smiles, instead of the one that didn’t really reach your eyes and disappeared quickly. 

He thought of how when the diner was quiet, you’d lean against the counter and sip your coffee, your gaze firmly out the window. 

He thought of how when your shift ended and you checked your phone, your face would change for just a fraction of a second before you’d say goodbye and rush out the door. 

Jesus fucking Christ, he thought, do I have a crush?

Frankie hadn’t had a crush since high school, when he had finally had the guts to ask out Portia Inglewood. That relationship had lasted until he left the military, and brought all the emotional baggage with him.

A loud banging on the door knocked him out of his thoughts. 

“Cat!” Benny didn’t wait for Frankie to open the door. “We’re here, and we have beer!”

“You know where it goes,” Frankie called back. 

Santi grinned at his best friend and handed him a beer. “How’s the new job?”

“It’s exactly what I need right now,” Frankie told him. Santi nodded in understanding. They all had their own ways of dealing with what they carried. “Plus, the extra cash doesn’t hurt.”

Frankie didn’t want money - he had plenty from when he’d do private jobs with Santi. If he ever became desperate, he knew he could just join Santi on his next job. 

“Well, extra cash or not, I’ll always be the hottest person you’ve ever worked with,” Santi winked, making Frankie roll his eyes.

“Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, man.” Frankie laughed. 

The night progressed in a haze of pizza and beer and poker. Will lost money to Tom, and Tom promptly lost it all to Benny. Santi told the group about the new girl he was seeing, some French expat over stateside for a few months. Benny double checked everyone was coming to the fight next weekend. Tom revealed that he and the girls were moving to Ohio to be closer to Molly’s parents. The boys promptly began planning a going away party, which would basically just be another poker night but with more beer and possibly a cake.

Any worries Frankie held seemed to melt away on nights like these. At one point, he briefly wondered what you were doing and if you were thinking of him too. Yep. Definitely a crush.

~*~

You didn’t like Kurt’s friends. Unfortunately, you were stuck spending your Saturday night with them crowded in your apartment, loud and disrespectful as hell. It didn’t matter to them that you’d asked time and time again could they please go outside to smoke, could they please put their beer bottles in the recycling bin, could they please not use your nice plates to do coke on. 

If your grandfather could have seen you now, he would’ve called you a push-over. You hated that you had become this person - afraid to stick up for yourself in your own home. Hell, you didn’t even know at what point you’d become this person. It just seemed to happen over the five years you’d been dating Kurt.

You had lost yourself in trying to be what he wanted.

With a sigh, you sealed yourself away in the bedroom with a bag of Doritos and your phone, wishing you could call your grandfather. You still had his number in your phone. Occasionally, you’d look at it, the numbers seared into your brain. 

Instead of calling the now disconnected number, you settled for messaging Sara. She was one of your only remaining friends from high school, and knew as much about your feelings as you were willing to let on. The thing was, you knew what she would say if you told her how you felt every single day. How lost, how hopeless you felt. She’d tell you to leave, forget Kurt and all the years with him, but to you it wasn’t that simple. 

Part of you still loved him, despite everything, and that part remained hopeful that you and Kurt could fix the fractures in your relationship. Plus, a voice in the back of your head told you he was right when he said he was the only one who could ever love you. 

Being alone, unloved, was one of your deepest fears.

This was one of the nights you actually missed being at the diner. You missed the lemon scented countertops, the radio that seemed to be permanently set on the oldies station, hell, you even missed Frankie and his amazing food. He’d been working with you less than a week but he had already wedged himself into your stomach. But, it was just two more nights until you were back there. It struck you that this was the opposite of how most people thought. No one you knew actually wished to go back to work. 

It was almost dawn when you were woken out of your half sleep by Kurt stumbling into the room. 

“Baby,” he slurred, crawling into bed beside you. “Baby, I love you.”

“I love you too,” you mumbled, moving over so he could fit in the bed easier. He reeked of sweat and booze. 

“I’m sorry,” he planted a sloppy kiss on your neck. “I really try to be good.”

“I know,” you ran your fingers over his head. He liked his hair cropped short, in an almost military like style. “I try too.”

“Can we go back to how we were?” Kurt continued kissing you, his hands moving drunkenly over your body. You bit back a sigh, knowing where this was heading.

You decided it would be easier to let him do what he needed, despite how badly you wanted to sleep. The only saving grace was you knew Kurt would only last a couple of minutes before it would be over. 

~*~

“So, what’s the new guy like?” Manny asked. You were seated outside, at one of his favourite cafes. The sun shone down warmly on you both, brightening your mood.

“I like him, I think,” you said. “He’s nice, quiet.”

“And pretty cute, right?” Manny wriggled his eyebrows. 

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lied. Of course you had noticed. It was impossible not to notice. 

“Don’t feed me bullshit, I can tell when you’re lying.”

“Ugh, fine. He’s good looking. But that doesn’t mean anything.”

“That’s the thing lover, it only means something if you want it to.” Manny took a conspiratorial sip of his drink. “And I didn’t get a gay vibe from him.”

“Oh good, because the only thing holding me back from jumping his bones in the kitchen is that I didn’t know his sexual preference.” You rolled your eyes, deciding to quickly change the subject. “Anyway, how’s the new job?”

“I’m loving it!” Manny lit up. “Everyone says teenagers are the worst group to teach, but it’s like they forget middle school exists.”

You smiled at Manny’s happiness. It thrilled you to see someone you considered your best friend so happy. If anyone deserves the whole world, you thought, it’s him. But he wasn’t going to let you change the subject that easily.

“You know, maybe you could invite Frankie to one of our lunches,” Manny said slyly. “It could be a night crew thing.”

“That would mean inviting the weekenders,” you reminded him. Manny held a grudge against the weekend crew, but you could never figure out why.

“No, weeknight crew only. Come on, lover, it could be fun! Plus, I want to get to know my replacement a bit better. Make sure I’m not handing the spatula to someone I don’t approve of.” Manny pouted and switched on his puppy dog eyes.

“Ugh, fine, I’ll ask,” you conceded, “but don’t be surprised if he says no. The man probably has a life.”

“It can’t hurt to ask though, and I will bother you about it until you have an answer.”

“What are you planning?” You knew that look all too well.

“Just on making a new friend,” Manny said innocently. “Lover, you can never have enough friends.”

At that moment your phone buzzed with a text from Kurt.

Where r u?????

You grimaced and sent a quick reply, hoping it wouldn’t lead to what it usually did.

At lunch with Manny from work. I’ll be home in a couple hours, do you want anything?

“Why don’t you just break up with him?” Manny asked, watching you carefully.

Is he the gay 1?

Yes, you met him and his husband last year.

“It’s complicated,” you said. You didn’t have anywhere to go. You were terrified of being alone. Part of you still felt like you could salvage what you had. The one and only time you had tried to break up with him, he had threatened to kill himself if you left. 

“You deserve better than that,” Manny said. You remained silent, not sure if he was right. “You’ve been unhappy for ages now.”

“I’m happy!” You protested.

“No you aren’t. Don’t fucking lie to me. You’re miserable with that douche bag, even James agrees.”

“I haven’t seen James in months! How the hell would he know!” You were getting defensive, but you still managed to keep your voice lowered. 

“Lover, I talk that man's ear off every chance I get. Because I love him. Because he likes to hear me talk about my day and the people important to me.”

“I’m important to you?”

Manny rolled his eyes and threw his napkin at you. “Of course you are, you’re a sister to me. Stop trying to change the subject.”

“What subject!” You scoffed.

“The subject of you for some reason wanting to stay in a relationship with a man who makes you miserable,” Manny’s voice softened and he gently held one of your hands. The gesture almost made you tear up with its gentleness. You merely shrugged.

“Like I said, it’s complicated.”

Manny nodded. “Just please think about it, for real. I couldn’t sleep at night if I never said anything to you about it.”

The walk home was slow, you took your time to sort out your scrambling thoughts. Manny had offered to drive you, but it was a nice day, and you wanted to enjoy the sunshine. You pushed the issue of Kurt to the side, knowing either way the outcome would be the same unless you magically grew a spine and a few extra zeros in your bank account.

Instead, you thought about Frankie and how best to ask him to Sunday lunch. Honestly, if there was going to be a night shift tradition, it just felt downright rude to not at least extend an invite. And if Frankie said yes, well, that was even better. It was like Manny said - an opportunity to make a new friend. Just a friend.

So why did your stomach flip at the thought?

Tagging @hnt-escape if you’d also like to be tagged just let me know <3

[littlesniggy]

I wouldn't want anyone else take me like this

Anon: Hi ^^ I was wondering if you're ok writing a scenario about pegging? 👉👈 If you do can I ask for it with Bartolomeo x active fem reader please? The reader had always been submissive in sex with Bart, but he finally discover her dominant part when she ask to peg him for the first time

Thank you so much in advance <3

Hey Anon! Thank you for requesting! First, I didn't know if I wanted to write about this since I'm not really into pegging but it was actually kind of fun! I've never done it before so I hope this is kinda accurate? Idk but if not I hope you're not too mad 😂 Please enjoy!

Warning: nsfw, 18+, pegging

Pairing: Bartolomeo x female reader

Word count: 2.7k

You were in the middle of a heated make-out session, Bartolomeo on top of you, his hands roaming your exposed upper body, leaving a hot and prickling feeling. His sharp teeth were scratching over your delicate neck, biting down from time to time but not drawing blood. You were panting at his ministration and your hands scratched over his exposed back, feeling some tiny scars on his skin.

The green-haired man pressed his still clothes crotch against yours and you could feel the obvious erection in his pants. You moaned quietly, pressing your body closer against his. Bartolomeo licked along your neck, down your collar bone and eventually capturing your nipple between his teeth and teasing it.

Your hands moved from his back to his chest, stroking down his hard abs and to the waistband of his pants. Swiftly, you opened them and pulled them down a little awkwardly but managing eventually. His hard member sprung free and he groaned in relief, moving his dick against your clothed thigh, leaving a small, wet trail of pre-cum. His hands made their way down your body as well, getting rid of the rest of your clothes.

His hand wandered between your legs, feeling your wet folds and rubbing against them. You moaned, louder this time, and grabbed his stiff member, moving your hand up and down. His finger entered your hot core, his mouth moving to your other nipple. You panted underneath him, enjoying the way he made you feel but today something didn’t feel right. You couldn’t pin point it directly but you had an idea.

Biting your lip, your other hand moved to his back and down to his butt, massaging it gently. Bartolomeo let go of your nipple and looked up at you, a grin on his face. “That’s new. You never grab my ass dabe.” He chuckled but not minding at all. You started massaging the trained ass harder, pressing his hips closer against you in the process.

“Nee, Bart. I’ve been thinking…” you started, second hand still massaging his dick, feeling the light pulsing underneath your touch. Bartolomeo added a second finger but kept looking at you, indicating he was listening. “Can we try something…new?” you suggested, voice a little insecure. After all, you didn’t know how he’d react to your proposition.

“Sure. What were you thinking about?” his voice sounded a little strained due to your touch on his dick; he added a third finger and spread you open, preparing you for his dick. At least, this was his intention. You moaned in response, moving against his touch while your hand on his ass slowly wandered towards a certain spot on his body no one has touched before.

It didn’t dawn on him immediately but when your finger gently and ever so lightly over his anus he understood. He stopped his movements inside of you, his body tensing up a little. “I-if you don’t like it, that’s fine! I just…had this fantasy….” Your voice got more and more quiet and your face felt hot in embarrassment.

Bartolomeo didn’t seem to know what to say, being quiet for a moment. You felt more and more insecure, already wanting to backpaddle and tell him it was a joke when he raised his voice. “I guess…we can try something new….what were you thinking about….exactly?” He sat up, looking down at you, his fingers slowly retreating from your wet core.

“Well….how about you just…let me do and if you don’t like something you tell me and I….I’ll stop. How does that sound?” you proposed, biting your bottom lip again. You could see the conflict within him but to your surprise he agreed, his grin finding its way back on his lips. “I’m intrigued dabe.” Relief flooded your body and you grinned at the man above you.

“Then let’s switch positions.” You said, getting up and letting him lay down on his back instead. You climbed on top of him, your ass hovering above his face. Your mouth was close to his dick but before you wrapped your lips around him you looked back at him with a small smile. “Just remember….if you don’t like it, tell me!”

Instead of a response a deep moan escaped his mouth when you put your lips around his head, sucking on the slick dick and taking him in deep pretty soon. Bartolomeo pulled your hips down as well, starting to lick and suck on your core, drinking your juice and making you feel incredible. His sharp teeth scratched against your lips from time to time, making you moan in response around his dick.

Your head moved up and down in tandem to the movements of his tongue fucking you in earnest and your hands moved to his balls, fondling them gently. You let your saliva glide down his dick, over his balls and it disappeared between his cheeks, coating the tiny hole. For a moment, you let his dick pop out of your mouth. “Spread your legs a little. “ you panted and he obliged, giving you better access to his most private part.

You put your mouth around his dick again, sucking and licking his dick like you were eating a popsicle. One of your hands moved further south and your finger brushed over his anus gently, not wanting to scare him immediately. You felt his hips jerk away a little from this touch but he let you continue when you rubbed over the sensitive muscle, pressing against it with some pressure but not entering him yet.

You felt how he let go of your cunt, his hot breath blowing against your wet core. “Hey, Y/n. Use lube, okay? It’ll go smoother dabe.” At this moment you felt dumb. Of course this would make things a lot easier for him. You just weren’t as experienced as him when it came to preparation; after all, he was always the one remining to use lube if needed. Especially the first times you two had intercourse.

“I’m sorry. Of course! Can you throw it to me?” you asked. Bartolomeo grinned, his hand opening the drawer next to the bed, searching around for a moment before he tossed you the bottle. But against his expectations, you didn’t coat your fingers with the lube yet; instead, you got off of him and with a grin told him to turn around and put his ass up. “Let’s focus on you today, shall we?” you giggled when he obliged, presenting you his backside.

“I don’t know if I’m gonna like what you’re about to do but you’re making me so hot right now when you tell me what to do dabe!” he admitted, looking at you over his shoulder. You didn’t reply anything to his words but you couldn’t deny that this was getting more and more exciting by the minute.

You kneeled behind him, your face getting close to his ass and your one hand grabbing between his legs, stroking his dick. The moan rumbled through his body but that was nothing compared to the moan he let out when your tongue licked over his anus. The sound gave you chills of pleasure and it encouraged you to keep going. Your hand and your tongue moved in tandem, your other hand placed on his butt cheek, massaging it and spreading it to the side to get better access. Your saliva coated his entrance and when you were sure he was ready your tongue pushed past the muscle and you felt his dick twitch in your hand.

“Damn, Y/n!” he panted, his face flushed and his eyes closed. He grabbed the sheets underneath him to have something to hold on to. Your tongue pushed in and out of his hole, twirling it inside of him, making him moan and pant in response. You felt your pussy drip as well and you wanted to get to the “fun” part soon. But you knew you had to prepare him properly.

Your grip on his dick tightened a little and after taking a quick look you saw his pre-cum drip down onto the sheets beneath him in a long string. I can go further. You thought and grabbed the lube, letting it drip down between his cheeks and also coating your fingers. The cold liquid had him shudder for a moment and he was looking at you from over his shoulder again.

“Put your face down and don’t look at me. Just enjoy the feeling.” You said, a grin on your lips. You were so excited and didn’t want to wait. “Fuck.” He hissed but laid his upper body down, burying his face in the pillow. You grabbed his dick again after putting the lube away and started coating his balls and dick with the lube as well, the lube turning warm pretty quickly and making slick sounds.

Bartolomeo moaned into the pillow and he moved his hips to your stroking. Your other hand spread the lube across his entrance and you finally pushed your pinky inside of him. You had to moan when he tightened around it. Now you could somewhat imagine how he was always feeling when he prepared you.

You moved your finger slowly inside of him, his chest heaving, his body trying to either get used to the feeling or get rid of the intrusive feeling. But with you continuously stroking his dick he relaxed around your finger and your could eventually add a second one. This time, a muffled moan could be heard. With a concentrated face you moved your fingers in and out, spreading them lightly before adding a third finger. Your curled them up inside of him and apparently hitting his prostate. His body rocked back against your finger, a loud moan echoing through the room, the pillow not doing much to muffle him.

You repeated the motion and watched in amazement how more and more pre-cum dripped down. It made your insides tingle in relief and excitement. You were scared he might not like it. Sure, you would’ve stopped. It wasn’t like sex with him was bad but this fantasy had popped up more and more often in the last couple of weeks and you wanted to try it so badly. During this time you also bought a little something the last time you stopped at a port.

When you were 100% sure that he was ready, you withdrew your fingers and let go of his dick. Panting, he looked at you once again, his face flushed and his eyes glazed. “This feels so good, Y/n. Why did you stop dabe?” he asked. “Just be patient.” You responded and got off the bed for a moment, opening a drawer and pulling out a strap-on dildo. His eyes widened and he looked a little concerned. “Why….? When did you….? What….?” He couldn’t form a coherent sentence which had you giggle. “Don’t worry. If it hurts I will stop immediately.” You reassured him when you got back on the bed. “You wanna take a look at it first?” you asked, smiling at him sympathetically.

You handed him the strap-on and let him examine the piece. His main attention was on the part you’d be shoving up his ass and it had him a little worried. But on the other hand, he trusted you completely and he was sure that you would make it as pleasurable as possible for him. So he eventually handed it back to you with a grin.

“I trust you dabe!” he said. You blushed at his words and nodded. He watched you insert the dildo into your core slowly after coating it with lube. The wet noise had his dick twitch, his eyes glued to the silicone dildo disappearing inside your pussy. You moaned at the feeling and closed the piece around your hips. Now, only the black dildo you were about to sink into him was visible and he had to admit that it looked hot and was making him feel excited.

After putting a huge amount of lube on the dildo, you placed your hands on his ass, spreading his cheeks and positioning the dildo at his entrance.

“Ready?” you asked, looking at him from behind him. Bartolomeo took a deep breath in, then nodded and pressed his face into the pillow again. You took a breath as well before slowly pushing the tip inside of him. You had to moan at the feeling of the dildo inside of you but Bartolomeo didn’t seem to feel too good right now.

His whole body was tense and the knuckles of his fingers turned white while he grabbed the sheets. “Damn!” he panted, trying to relax. It took you a while to think about touching his dick to make him feel better. As soon as you had the thought your hand was already wrapped around his dick, jerking him off with fast and hard strokes, trying to make it more pleasurable for him.

Inch by inch, you pushed further inside of him, seeing how he got more and more used to the strange feeling. When you were buried inside of him completely, your hand still vigorously stroking his dick, you moaned and closed your eyes. It felt incredible. But you couldn’t go all out just yet, Bartolomeo still not too sure how he should feel about this.

“You okay?” you panted, rubbing your thumb over his mushroom head. His dick twitched at this touch, having some sort of its own mind. “Yes…” he pressed out. His body slowly relaxed and when he moved his ass against the dildo you took the invitation.

Your first thrusts were slow and careful but the more you moved the more he got used to it and the faster you got. His moans grew louder and louder, just like your own and soon he was moving against you, the strap-on penetrating both of you, pleasuring your insides just the right way. The dildo inside of you was pushing against your g-spot with each thrust and the one inside Bartolomeo’s ass hit his prostate more often than not.

“Go faster dabe!” he demanded. Sweat was running down your bodied at the exertion, your hand still jerking him off. You leaned over his body, pressing your body against his back, your boobs feeling soft against his skin. You moaned into his ear, biting his neck and leaving light marks. You felt your orgasm come closer but you didn’t want to cum before he did. “Bart!” you moaned. “This feels so fucking good!”

The green-haired male looked at you over his shoulder, his mouth open and his breath coming in short pants. “It feels amazing dabe!” he moved against you as best as possible. “I-I’m gonna cum soon, Y/n!”

“Me too!” you pressed your body closer against his, your hand grabbing him harder, the slick sound mixing with your moans. You felt his dick throb in your hand and with a loud moan he came in your hand, his member twitching with each ribbon of cum shooting out his dick. After a few more thrusts you came as well around the strap-on, your moan joining his.

His body collapsed and you with him, both of you were panting like crazy. After a while, he shifted slightly underneath you. “Y/n…could you…pull it out? It’s getting uncomfortable dabe.” He asked. “Oh, right! Of course!” you just weren’t used to being the one thinking about everything and you kind of appreciated it even more how much effort he put into sex each time.

Carefully, you pulled out and took the strap-on off entirely, letting it fall to the floor. You dropped down next to him, your eyes closed and your mind blank, not thinking about anything at the moment.

Bartolomeo was the first one to speak up again after wrapping his arm around you, pulling you closer against his warm body.

“You were great dabe.” He said with a low voice, sounding tired. “Did you like it?” you asked, pressing your body closer to his. He pulled the blanket over the two of you. “I wouldn’t want anyone else take me like that dabe.”

“That’s good to hear.”

[manggojooz]

Foolish Love, Fake Love (Part 10)

pairing: idol!Jungkook x bodyguard!reader

word count: ~2,590

genre: idol!au; angst; romance; drama; enemies to lovers sort of thing

warnings: some references to stalkerish behaviour

previous part: Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 |  Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 |  Part 6  | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 

summary: If all you can give me is a fake love, then I will be the fool to pretend that it is all true.

Taglist: @a-hopelessly-imaginative-girl @dollwithluv @sweetcheeksdna @yeontanie21 @peachygiraffe14 @jeontaes-world  @forvever-ddaeng @namjoonsslutakakoreanmanswhore @apurpledheart @ggukkieeee​ @witchxlove

You frowned at the smiley boy who awkwardly stood outside your door.  

“Uhh, you gonna let me in... or we gonna stand here all night?” Jungkook asked.

“Let... let you in? But why-” you were still only half-awake.  

Jungkook shoved his way past you in one swift move and you stumbled against the door slightly. Catching your balance again you quickly followed him into the apartment.  

“What are you doing here?” you asked as you trailed him into your own kitchen.  

“Ow, it’s so heavy, I can’t stand carrying it another minute sorry,” he lamented as he dumps the bags of groceries on the tabletop with a thump. “What’s this?” he asked as he peeked inside the bag that contained the chicken soup.

“Soup, I think...” you answered weakly.  

“You ordered it?” he asked.  

“No... I don’t know, some guy just came to deliver it...”

“Mmm okay,” he hummed mindlessly but melodically as he took the package away from the dining table and chucked it to the side of the counter. “Let’s see...” he murmured to himself as he took his handphone from his back pocket.  

“What are you doing here?” you asked again.  

He does not make eye contact with you but stares intently at his phone screen, “I heard you injured your shoulder from last night... I didn’t know and I thought...” he stops suddenly. He side-eyes you for a moment and notices that you were surveying him with that same frown. “Hmm,” he clears his throat rather forcefully, “I just wanted to say I'm sorry, I was overreacting because-”

“Because you thought Yeonjoo was hurt...” you completed his sentence.  

“I didn’t know you hurt yourself while protecting her, to be fair it wasn’t really visible you know...” he voice faded as he sounded a little relieved now that the topic has been broached.  

“It’s our job to get injured so that the people we protect won’t be. You don’t have to be sorry for that,” you replied matter-of-factly.  

“I know I know... but I shouldn’t have jumped to a conclusion and accuse you or shout at you” he still avoided looking at you as he muttered this.  

Sometimes apologies are like this – it does not necessarily make you feel better more so than it makes the other person feel better.  

“So... why are you here at this time?” you questioned a third time.

“Ah... Yuri is at another schedule with some of the hyungs and since I am free tonight so I thought I should come and make sure you ate dinner... at least...” he was still half-mumbling.

“You are here to make me dinner?” you asked incredulously.  

“Eo...” he answered affirmatively.  

---

Jungkook buying sacks of groceries just to make you dinner was the most unimaginable thing even just a day ago, but it was happening right this moment. You were too tired to quarrel with the idea and he had insisted that you get back to resting until everything was ready.  

You could hear a lot of tinkering, “ahh”, “ooh” and the occasional swearing from the kitchen even in your half-awake state. You had no idea how long this lasted but at some point you were awakened by a knock on your room door.  

“Dinner’s ready... are you awake?” his voice was soft but his tone was the usual.  

You pulled yourself out of bed and headed out to the dining table, marginally more alert than you were before.  

The spread that lay before your eyes was a wonder – a bowl of plain rice, some kind of stew that looked like it had a mix of unrecognisable ingredients in it and some kimchi.  

“Do I start with the soup or...” you wondered cautiously.  

“It doesn’t look that appetising but I promise you that it tastes fine and this is beef bone stew with abalone and what’s that thing...” he wasted no time trying to promote his masterpiece.  

You raised an eyebrow at him.  

“It’s some traditional herb... I’m sure it’s good for health” he continued.

He looked at you expectantly as you took a tiny sip of the stew with caution. It tasted... barely edible.  

“How is it? How is it?” he asked like a child who was asking for affirmation from his parents.  

“It’s nice...” you answered soullessly, “are you not having any yourself?”  

“Nope, it’s all for you” he answered very certainly and you weren’t really sure if this was all part of the bigger picture.

Be that as it may, you recalled how Yoongi felt bad for you at the hospital and did not want another one of them thinking that girls are too weak to do this job.  

“About last night... I just need to say it again, you don’t have to feel bad that I was injured and I can understand why you were worked up so you didn’t have to do this, but thanks anyway” you said while looking him straight in the eyes, maybe the drowsiness helps with boosting confidence.  

He sighed unintentionally. “Like I said earlier, I know I don’t have to feel bad about it but I was wrong to yell at you and I just feel bad because I assume that Yeonjoo was hurt while you were fine and... and... I guess she just looked really shaken and you looked fine so I thought...”  

“It’s ok, I get it. It’s just that we usually try our best not to show it even if we are hurt” you explained.

“If you don’t show it how do people know that you are hurt... what's the point of hiding it?” Jungkook mumbles endlessly as he walked back into the kitchen. He picked up the ladle still in the pot of stew, and you were about to continue the conversation but he took a sip of his own masterpiece.

“Bleh... oh my gosh... what’s this? This taste horrible! You should have told me honestly that it tasted bad... wow...” he shouted with his tongue half-hanging out.

“As you know, it’s not my forte to show how I feel” you replied sarcastically.

“Ugh I just wanted to make you something nice... what the heck is this even... you know what, this isn’t counted. I'll buy you something nice, what do you want to eat?” he lamented.

You were never a fan of bland soups and porridges anyway.

“Hmm... steak, buy me a nice a steak” you requested.

“You can eat that now? Or do you mean when you are better?” his eyes were round with curiousness.  

“It’s my rule that when the body is not feeling well, the mouth needs to eat even better than usual” you explained quite nonchalantly while taking another bite of the weirdly-seasoned stew. It seems like you were starting to get used to the taste of it.

“Ohhh, alright then. There is this place I know that’s really hard to get a spot at, I will use some connections and get you some really awesome steak. How about tomorrow, since it’s a rare that we don’t have any schedules... I mean if you are feeling better tomorrow...”  

You nodded somewhat eagerly as you continued taking another mouthful of the mysterious stew.

“Wow, you still gonna drink that?” his eyes were very round and large, clearly depicting his amazement by your ability to stomach his stew. “I’ll send you the time and address tomorrow.”  

---

The next day and an hour before seven.  

“Where are you going?” Yuri was shocked to see you all dressed up.

“I... uh... I’m going for dinner” you stammered. You were going to meet Jungkook at the restaurant at 7pm and the restaurant unfortunately has a casual formal dress code requirement.

“You are going for dinner? With who? Did you take your medicine?” Yuri nagged like a mother sometimes.

You thought for a long moment whether to reveal the truth but you decided to avoid it in prevention of any questioning that might ensure, “Wow, you are so naggy sometimes you know. I’m just meeting someone I know and yes ma’am I took my medicine, except that one painkiller that makes me really drowsy, I'll take that at night when I'm back alright?”  

Yuri throws a towel at you for calling her naggy and told you to hurry and get out of her sight.  

---

Thirty minutes to seven.  

Jungkook suddenly gets a call from Kijin; something must be up with Yeonjoo for him to be calling Jungkook out of the blue.  

“Hyung, what’s up? It's rare that you are calling me directly” Jungkook answered the call.  

“Jungkook-ah... I really didn’t want to bother you but could you come over... she wouldn’t come out or talk to anyone since last night.”  

---

Ten minutes to seven  

Jungkook stares at his watch, just as he took out his phone to type a message to you Kijin opens the door at Yeonjoo’s apartment and he rushes in.  

The door to Yeonjoo’s bedroom was shut tight. On the way here he was on the phone with Kijin the whole time and he explained hwo Yeonjoo had been receiving letters and calls from her longtime stalker.  

“Is that... from that bastard?” Jungkook looked warily at a paper box placed in one corner of the living room.

“Ya... I’m handing it over to the police later... it’s pretty gross inside I don’t think you should go near it” Kijin warned.  

“Why is he back? I thought he went quiet for a while...” Jungkook asked with a deep unhappiness.  

“Not sure, I think he’s been sending Yeonjoo some messages but she won’t speak to me now” Kijin answered with matching concern.  

Jungkook headed straight for Yeonjoo’s room. He carefully knocks on the door; there was no answer.  

“It’s me... are you inside? Can you open the door?”  

He was met with an eerie silence.

“Hyung... should we just go in?” Jungkook whispered to Kijin, his face fraught with worry.

“I think we have little choice now...” Kijing handed over a key to Jungkook.

The door creaked open slowly. Jungkook peered into the room that was pitch black. A narrow ray of light shone into the room from the opened door and he finally sees the silhouette of Yeonjoo crouched on the floor near the foot of the bedframe.  

He ran over anxiously, “Are you alright? Why didn’t you answer us?”  

Her hands scrunched the blanket that she had pulled over her legs. She was staring soullessly ahead but slowly turned to look at Jungkook.  

“He’s back. I'm scared” she uttered.  

“I know, Kijin hyung is reporting it to the police now” Jungkook whispers back.

“I’m tired, but I don’t dare to close my eyes” she whimpers.

“I’m here... I'll be here” Jungkook sat down next to her and she couldn’t help but lean against him.  

---

Five minutes past seven.

You stood at the sidewalk leading to the elegantly-furnished entrance of the restaurant. Unintentionally you looked around whenever you heard any sound of someone walking by. You had messaged Jungkook to ask if he was reaching but there was no reply.  

You did not even know whose name the reservation was under so you felt better waiting for him to outside. Time went by as you counted the number of times a car turned in but it wasn’t his car.  

The night grew colder as the time went by.  Eventually, you took a look at your watch.  

Ten minutes to 8pm – you decided to give Jungkook a call. The call went unanswered and you were not that surprised but now you became slightly worried.  

You made another call, this time to Sejoon.  

“Eo.. Y/N...” Sejoon picked up the call and sounded out of breath.

“Hi Sejoon, are you ok?” you asked out of concern.

“Yah yah I’m fine, just ran out to grab some thing for Yoongi and Hobi who are having a schedule now... do you need something?” Sejoon asked you back.  

“Uh... actually I am wondering if you know where Jungkook is now...” you started slowly, not sure how much to reveal about your plans with Jungkook.

“Jungkook? He’s not with you? I thought he told me he would be having dinner with you today,” answered Sejoon.

So, it is not much of a secret then. “Ah yes, he’s supposed to meet me for dinner but it’s almost past an hour and he’s not here, I tried calling him but couldn’t get him either,” you explained.

“What? Ok, he does tend to be late... but not this late... are you still waiting there?” Sejoon exuded his usual friendliness.  

“Yah, I’m kinda still waiting,” you replied.

“What? I'll try reaching him after I put down these things for Yoongi and Hobi? Let me know if he suddenly shows up,” Sejoon instructed helpfully before you hung up.  

---

Fifteen minutes past eight

Two police officers sat in Yeonjoo’s living room collecting as much information as they could from Yeonjoo and Kijin while Jungkook watched them from kitchen. It took him a whole ten minutes to coax Yeonjoo into speaking with the police after they arrived.  

Now that he had mostly done his part, he was letting go of the tension he had built up over the past hour and suddenly his stomach let out a low growl.  

He thought to himself that he could have been having some fancy steak now. “Right... would be nice to have some steak now... oh shit!” he suddenly jolted up and looked all over for his phone.  

---

Your phone suddenly pinged – a message came in.

“Hey Y/N, I’m so sorry, there was an emergency, I didn’t check my phone until now... you aren’t still waiting right? I hope you already ordered something... don’t wait for me,” the message read.

The cocktail of feelings left a bittersweet aftertaste. You were still trying to decipher what exactly it was. Was it worry? Was it annoyance? Was it disappointment?  

Then your phone rings. It was Sejoon.

“Hello? Y/N? Have you left yet?” Sejoon shouted through the noisy background noises on his end.

“Hey Sejoon, umm, yeah I got a text from Jungkook so I’m leaving now...” you muttered, trying to mask that bittersweet aftertaste  

“Oh he texted you? Great, did you already grab dinner? Do you need me to come down and settle the bill for you?” Sejoon enquired on 80% volume.  

“Uh no no don’t worry about me, I’m gonna go grab dinner when I get home...” you quickly cut in, “... but do you know what happened to him? He just said there’s an emergency... is he ok?”  

“Jungkook? Oh he’s at Yeonjoo’s place apparently. Kijin hyung messaged me just a while ago to give me the heads up,” Sejoon explained as you hear someone calling out his name on the other end, “I gotta go! You can text me if you need anything!”  

You hardly ever needed anything from anyone. You hardly believed that you deserved to need anything from anyone. And today was no different.  

Did he need to do this for you? No.  

Did you need him to keep his promise? No.  

Yet you stared down at the pavement clearly tasting bitterness this time. Of all the reasons, why did it have to be Yeonjoo?  

One of the staff at the restaurant must have observed you standing outside their door for the longest time.  

“Hi Miss, uhh... it’s rather cold out here... are you waiting for someone? Do you want to come in?” he offered kindly.  

there was a melancholic pause. “I was waiting for someone...” you replied with a wistful smile, “but not anymore, thank you.”  

[idjitlili]

The Goblin king...the one without warts.

Thorin x reader.

(Not my image.)

Summary:Imagine being apart of the company, of course Gandalf shoves you in with no choice. Growing close to Thorin eventually, after stopping at an inn.

A/n:Anon request includes ,but I won't spoil it. I do not own any characters.

Word count:4682

Characters:Y/n, the company, humans, elves, and David Bowie as Jareth.

Songs:ziggy stardust, as the world falls down.

Warnings: Alcohol, just ale. Uh mentions of jareths pants , and reference to a jareths 'magic'

It's only forever, it's not long at all. Only if we have forever, but we all die. We are not elves, we are not Morgan Freeman. Unless, you aren't telling me something?

Thus, you must take risks; to live the life you want to. The reason that you finally agreed to go an adventure, via Gandalf's request. Not that the leader of the group, that you'd be joining on this adventure,  did not like the fact that a hobbit was joining , let alone alone you, a human, female. Not impressed to say the least.

You had just ignored the tree trunks insults, and seeking the company of the small hobbit. Both of you were in the same position, except you could maybe launch Thorin over a cliff. 

Unknowingly Thorin had created a friendships, well between you, Bilbo, Fili and Kili. After you and Bilbo had decided to mock Thorin in secret.

"Wait, wait, I've got one." Standing up placing one leg on the log, hands on hips, head up , shaking you head slowly as if the wind was blowing it. "How's my hair?" Mocking Thorins low voice, looking at Bilbo who had stopped giggling, moving his eyes crazily to gesture behind you.

Turning your head slightly, to see Thorin staring at you. " Can I help you?" Unmistakable using a lower voice than normal, Thorin scrunched his brows together slightly. "What are you up to?" His eyes glazing over your stature, and posture.

"Oh, If you must know, Bilbo has been making sure that my family jewels have not dropped off due to my massive ego, last time he had to stitch them up because I am such a prick. Not that I could produce because I'm like 160." Maintaining eye contact with Thorin, chest fully pressed into the air, basically superhero pose, now off the log.

Thorin did not understand what you were talking about. "Get your things , we are moving on." Bilbo had just covered his mouth facing down, his eyes looking up.

“Do not test me , Y/n, I will throw you off a cliff, as if you was an end of bread. You are not worthy of this journey," Kili and Fili had been sat by, watching the scene unfold, as Thorin just stared at you. Kili walking over to you.

"Uncle!"

"My sisters son," Pulling Kili into a bear hug, him being the little bear, before pushing him off of you. "Get of me, people will think I'm soft, I am pure steel."   You had not even noticed Thorin leaving.

"That was horrible," It really was, could you be anymore cringy? "You annoyed Uncle though, I am surprised he didn't put you into line." Fili didnt speak much, but when he did, it wasn't useless trivia.

"My arms may have no muscle, but does not mean I couldn't carry both Bilbo and Kili to their horses." Okay, maybe you would be able to actually, but it gained the trios attention. "I highly doubt that, y/n"

Bending your knees so that your back was in front of Kili, hands ready to grab his calves. "Y/n, are you sure? I don't want you t-"" we don't have all day, Kili."

" okay, Thorin." You had scoffed, as Kili had managed to get on your back, arms around your neck, legs around your front. "No, no,no not me." Bilbo shook his head furiously, in disagreement , as you gestures for him to get up.  "Bilbo , please." Bilbo had sighed , as Fili watched you then pick up Bilbo, holding him Bridal style.

It was like carrying nothing, it was definitely a lot of weight, yet you still put in a face and walked through camp with them. Even if you couldn't fight, you weren't completely weak.

You had gained the attention of the dwarves, who Kili waved by in excitement , Bilbo just pretend to be dead in embarrassment.  Thorin had caught your eye for a second as you walked by him, lift Bilbo onto his pony, Thorin told you pack, you were packing...Kili had then gotten off your back when you had kneeled down.

But what you didn't know, was that Thorin eyes were on you most of everyday during the the journey, you just happened to be oblivious to the gazes on you. 

If you did catch Thorins gaze, you just thought that he was judging your actions,others picked up on their kings behaviour.  Though they did not tell you, they did tease Thorin. Well only Dwalin , Kili and Fili dared to.  Actually it was Bilbo who noticed first.

It was probably a few days after almost being eaten by trolls, that Thorin had began to develop feelings. At first he had just thought that you were mildly annoying like his nephews, that impression, was terrible. But once you were all captured by trolls...

You had pretended to be dead, the trolls had tossed you aside, and every time they were not looking you would crawl slightly. Tossing you aside for dessert. Thorin had caught this. Pulling faces as at him, as you slowly got closer, Thorin watching for the trolls.

When you had gotten next to Thorin, you had pulled a knife from you pocket , cutting the sack he was in. You had cut through quite a bit of the sack; when Thorin had pulled his hands out lifting you , shoving you into the sack with him, just as Berts eyes had glided over the dwarves.

That was when the trolls had noticed you had disappeared, but you were stuffed into the bottom of Thorins sack. You were too tall for the sack, your legs curled up, back inbetween Thorins legs. "Where is the human?!" The trolls had began to looking around finding no sign of you ,the moved on soon enough.

"Uh...the-the secret to cooking dwarf, is um..." Bilbo had tried to distract the trolls , after seeing Gandalf of course you couldn't see , you could only smell Thorin.

"Uh...not...not that one, he...he's infected!"

"You what?"

"Yeah he's got worms in his...tubes."

"Ooh!"

"In-in fact, they all have. They're infested with parasites, it's a terrible business, I wouldn't risk it, I really wouldn't."

"Parasites? Did he say parasites?" The dwarves were not the smartest bunch to say the least.

"Yeah, we don't have parasites! You have parasites!"

Thorin had realised that Bilbo is trying to buy them time and kicks Kili, but ends up smacking you with his calf, making you groan , only for Thorin to gently squeeze your shoulder, the trolls had been too busy listening to dwarves , that they never heard your quiet groan.

Gandalf soon had arrived, saving you all as always, the trolls turned to stone. It didn't take long for Bilbo to realise you were missing still. "Where's y/n?"

"I'm over here, Bilbo." You could not get out of the sack neither could Thorin, without someone helping you out. Kili being next to Thorin, had heard your voice, turning to see his uncles, feet looking a bit too pointy. "Where?"

Bilbo had turned in circles in search, Thorin just later there with the most unimpressed face.

"Bilbo, she's over here." Bilbo had hoped over , out of the sack, before opening the sack at the top to allow Thorin could shuffle out. Standing up, Thorin had pulled you up and out by your hand.

"T-thanks, um, your thighs are very comfortable, if I was murderer , I would make them into pillows. Oh, um, thanks , uh," your face flushed pink, noticing how you sounded and that both Bilbo and Kili was right next to you. Sometimes you are ought to think before you speak, a common term taught to children, yet you do not. You had rushed off back to camp, after that.

Tis was a compliment to dwarves for a woman to comment on their thighs or stature.

That was it, Thorin began to notice things about you, you helping Bilbo onto his pony when he needed help, even if he didn't directly ask. The way you'd slip on mud , even if it was dry, save yourself and look around wide eye if anyone had seen. How your arms got tired as you'd try to plait your hair. Slapping Kili gently on the back of the head if he said something mean about one of the others. Normally Kili picked on Ori's knitting .

Of course, Thorin thought his affections only went one way. You could not deny, the dwarven king was intoxicating, you were highly attracted to him. He was a mean guy, no he was not , he didn't want Bilbo to get killed going in this journey to help him.

You hadn't spoken to Thorin directly really, well until he allowed the company to stop at an

inn for the night, which everyone was happy about. The Dwarves were mostly excited for ale. You just hoped they had a deep clean...

Luckily they did , and soon everyone was a sat tables in the pub, 3 separate ones, you being stuck next to Thorin ,Bilbo next to you, Bofur next to him,Kili and Fili so on. Next came the ale, being pushed in front of you all.

Bilbo asked for a tea, but Bofur wouldn't have it, so there sat Dildo sipping at the pint of ale. Whilst everyone drank down theres soon enough, you just drinking it , because you was shoved against Thorin. After your fourth ale that's when you heard it.

A noise like a hurricane , the soaring winds of the mans pipes opened.

"Oh

Oh, yeah

Ziggy played guitar

Jamming good with Weird and Gilly

And the Spiders from Mirkwood

He played it left hand

But made it too far

Became the special man" Looking over to the small stage, a skinny man, with a huge blond Mohawk stood, his bare chest exposed showing a large pendant on his lower chest.

"Then we were Ziggy's band

Ziggy really sang

Screwed-up eyes and screwed-down hairdo

Like some cat from Japan

He could lick 'em by smiling

He could leave 'em to hang" Your breath hitched, as your eyes travelled down to his pants, he wore a legging type pants, showing off everything

"They came on so loaded, man

Well-hung and snow-white tan

So where were the spiders

While the fly tried to break our bones?

With just the beer light to guide us

So we bitched about his fans

And should we crush his sweet hands?" The dwarves and hobbit noticed your change, following your eyes to the man on stage.

"Do you know him?" Fili had snapped you out of your trance quickly, "o-oh, um, I haven't seen him for a long time."

"Who is he, lass?" Thorin said nothing just stared back between you and the man, as you kept glancing at him. Bofur had waited for your reply, calling over more ales. "my best friend ." That was the truth, not that anyone knew but you had wished yourself away to the goblins, thus a friendship bloomed.

Growing up you didn't have many friends, you still don't , Jareth was always there for you, you didn't want to out him being a fae.

"He was the nazz

With God-given ass

He took it all too far."

That's when he caught your eye, sending you a wink before continuing to sing with ease.

Half an hour later, you were starting to feel a little more free, after more ale, leaning onto Thorin for support.

"There's such a sad love

Deep in your eyes a kind of pale jewel

Open and closed." Jareth had started his 15 song of the evening, you had jumped up, well start up. "Thorin! Come on, let's dance." You had pushed him slightly. "Why?"

"Just come on, 'deep in your eyes a kind a pale eye,' that's you so you must dance with me, please." Thorin had finally had budged , standing up, his eyes were gems indeed. You had grabbed onto Thorins hand pulling him onto the cleared floor. You didn't know how to dance not really, but it was the heat of the moment. Well actually you had danced with Jareth during his masquerade.

"Within your eyes

There's such a fooled heart

Beatin' so fast." Placing one hand onto Thorins shoulder, the other into his hand, you could only hope you weren't making a fool of yourself. Jareth did like to be generous.

"In search of new dreams

A love that will last

Within your heart

I'll place the moon."

Looking into Thorins , bright eyes, which stared back into yours, you followed suit with steps , you hadn't realised that Jareth had changed your clothes into a white gown and sorted your hair, but the others and Thorin noticed. Following Thorins eyes down to your clothing you had get let out a snort.

"Within your heart

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone" The dwarves hadn't seen Thorin dance since he was a prince, yet there he was with you dancing. Your eyes never leaving Thorins, as you danced in sync, turning together in a circular motion.

"I cannot wait for you to see Erebor." Thorin voice was quiet not to interrupt the music. You had grinned in confusion. "I thought you didn't want me on this quest? Why would you want me to see Erebor?"

"Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou."

"So that you can attend a proper ball." You had smirked at the King, who just smiled at you.

"Well, you have got plenty of time to tell me all about Erebor, on this journey, that is if you speak to me after this."

"As the world falls down

Falling."

"As you wish." Thus you both just went back to just dancing smiling a little more now.

"As the world falls down

Falling

Falling in love." Though there was a room full of people surrounding you, it felt as if you were in your own world.  Your own crystal...

"I'll paint you mornings of gold

I'll spin you Valentine evenings though we're strangers 'til now

We're choosing the path

Between the stars." You could only hope that everyone would make it to Erebor...

"I'll leave my love

Between the stars

As the pain sweeps through

Makes no sense for you

Every thrill is gone

Wasn't too much fun at all

But I'll be there for you-ou-ou

As the world falls down" As the song finished, you had pressed a kiss to Thorins cheek, Jareth was having a break, you had let go of Thorin, telling him you'd be right back.

Still in your puffy gown, you had made your way over to Jareth standing at the bar with a glass of what could only be described as some sort of rose fancy drink, fit for a fae king. Jareth had placed the glass onto the side, holding his arms out for you.

Jumping into his arms, spinning you around, legs up , before placing you back onto the floor. "Jareth, I missed you." Jareth grinned back you showing his teeth , "as have I missed you, so you and the dwarven king?" Jareth had looked passed to you to Thorin, you looking back too to see Thorin glaring.

"Uh, I dont know, did you know we was going to be here?" Jareth had grinned larger, confirming his answer. "Come meet my friends quickly." You had grabbed Jareth by his hand leading him to your table.

The dwarves and the hobbit had looked up from their conversations, mostly with smiles. "Uh, guys , this is my best friend , Jareth, Jareth this is Bofur, Fili,Kili,Thorin and Bilbo." You had gave Jareth a side hug, he had clicked his fingers and you were in your regular clothes. " 'ello," Thorin had looked Jareth over as you squashed next to Thorin ,with Jareth next to you.

"So, what are you?" Kili bluntly asked,staring at Jareth in interest. "He's the g-ubli- king." Jareth had silenced you for a second blurring the word Goblin. "I'm sorry , what?" Bilbo Baggins was always intrigued by others, especially if you looked like Jareth. "He is a king."

"Of what."

"Now that , Bofur, is for you to figure out." Jareth was indeed a confusing, mysterious man, he seemed to have sobered the dwarves up.

"How did you do that with the dress?"

"You are a very curious lot , aren't you? - "

Jareth could be nasty, you were surprised with his behaviour.

"Well, then how did you meet him , y/n/n?"

" she wished to be taken."

"...Y-you are th-" Bilbo knew he had heard of the man he had heard sing, his books had had came in use. But again Jareth had cut Bilbo off, he knew what Dwarves were like.

"Clever hobbit."

Now, my love, if you need me you know what to do." Jareth had turned to you , pulling you into a hug, looking at Thorin, with a devilish grin. Only if you had know what he had put into Thorins head.

Really he just said, "I will turn you into pie for my Goblins, if you hurt my y/n." That was it, he was gone, you had been hugging air for a good second, before turning back to the group of men , who just stared at you.

"Uh? What?"   Bofur, Kili and Fili exchanged looks of agreement.

"You and that strange man, yep, that definitely happened."    The smirk inlaced into Kili's voice, as he stared at ,waiting for a response. You had only scoffed at " I'll call him back, and you ask him, I'm sure you'd him to make you into a pie for his Goblins." In that moment, Thorin had realised that Jareth, wasn't just a thin stick, he clearly had fed someone to his Goblins before, Thorin didn't want to find out if that was true.

Thus, the subject was dropped, and that was it,though the other dwarves wanted to know what just happened, and Gandalf didn't give a shit or already knew.

Well that was it until you had all left Rivendell , clean for now, only to get captured by Goblins.

No way were they anything like the unwanted children, absolutely. Stuck next to Thorin, you stuck out being human, wishing you had stumbled onto the actual Goblin king. Thorin had pulled you down and shielded you from the whips.

You could only wish... but you didn't Gandalf saved you all again.

Back on the road again, until Thorin gets chewed up by a warg, you rushing towards him, as the dwarves fought off the wargs and orcs. Only for the eagles to arrive , seeing an eagle fly at you and Thorin, you had laid careful onto him. The eagle swooping you both up . "Hey Thorin, are you alive? maybe I can use those thighs a scarf sometime?"

Thorin did not wake up, until Gandalf had done some magic shit, him and Bilbo became best friends. 

Then you were all captured...again, by the worst kind of elves. Dumb blonds, no, Thranduil was just a dick. All of you were stripped down to one layer , all but Thorin  and you , were shoved into cells. You was asked the general question, why are you travelling with dwarves, well actually that was it.

You had pretended to faint.  When Thranduil stood over your head to see your face, you had pretended to wake up, punching him right in the dick. "O-oh my I-"

"Take them away!" Thorin was surprised you were not executed on the spot, oh how he tried to hide his laughter, as the elven knelt in agony ,and you were both dragged away. Shoved into a cage today, before the elves stomped away. Of course , Balin asks Thorin what happened, instead of telling him what you had done, he had simply said about him shouting in Khuzdul.

" Hey, are you coming to my execution tomorrow? I wonder if my last words should be 'being an elf there's only one down fall, once you get to Thranduils age, your cock shrivels up ," Thorin had snorted , and that is when he saw it, your hair...looked like radagasts hair ,but without poop and birds.

Thorins eyes had stared too long, it was clear to you, you were just talking to him, of course you'd see him staring. Your hair. Well yes that was embarrassing, a king was literally making fun of your hair by his silent judging.

"You're judging my hair? Did you not see radagasts?" Thorin had snapped out of this stare, realising what he had been doing, a light blush upon his face. "You are right, " that's he had said, and went back to looking at your hair.

Sighing you had sat on the cold stone, let again breaking Thorins stare. "Are you going to do my hair or just stand there?"

"Are you sure?" Accepting his offer Thorin was quickly sat behind you, combing your hair, of course you didn't know about dwarvish customs. You didn't know you had just accepted his courtship,but you had.

It wasn't long before your hair was braided completely , and just as you had stood up Ori had spoken up. Though you didn't here what he had said but you had heard Bilbo. "Not in here your not." A jingle of the keys and you were free, well lead to the cellars while the others questioned Bilbo.

Soon enough well when Thorin had convinced the dwarves to get in the barrels, via Bilbos request, leaving just you and Bilbo out. Until  Thorin had gestured you over, helping you inside the Barrel, but you stuck out more than the others,you wondered why Bilbo didn't get in one with one of the other dwarves. You barely in the barrel when Bilbo had pulled the lever,gripping onto Thorins shoulders as you were both submerged for a spilt second. Thus, you were off , trying to escape the elves , squished against the dwarven king, that you had unknowingly courted.

Kili was shot, and Bombur did some extreme parkour, and boom you had reached land. Soaking, freezing, lucky your hair was all braided back,  thanks Thorin. Stopping to allow Kili's leg to be wrapped up , to prevent further blood loss.

Dwalin had almost give you a heart attack ,as you stood twisting the water out of your clothing.  "Who did you hair ,lass?" He had basically popped up beside you , inspecting your braids , his voice louder and powerful.

Looking at the dwarf, who looked right back waiting for your answer , already knowing the answer.  "Thorin did, why?" Dwalin only hummed before returning to his brother, him surprisingly whispering to his brother, Fili and Kili had looked at each other in disgust.   Even though Kili was supposedly in pain.

"Do that again and you're dead."  Snapping your head up, to the unfamiliar voice..was that orlando bloom? A human, a man with shaggy dark hair, worn out clothes , beautifully structured face. Boom, you had been able to board passage on his barge.

"Why is a woman travelling with 13 dwarves and a hobbit?"  You had coughed, turning around to face Bard, you weren't very sure what you was supposed to say. "Well, um-" " She's travelling with us because she's betrothed to uncle."    Fili had spoken up, saving you from revealing everything, still you had turned to Fili, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, Fili and Kili smirked.

"You are courting a dwarf?" Thorin had scoffed, as Bard kept his eyes on the lake, his tone was almost unimpressed. "Well, I almost fucked a fae s-" "y-y/n! That's not a-appropriate." Bilbo had choked out, without a thought.

"Come on, Gaggins, did you not see the pants he wore? His magic-"

"Enough." Thorin had interrupted you sharply, snapping your head towards the clearly annoyed King, walking over to him, punching his cheek. "Awwe, jealous of Jareth? You have a lot to live up to. Does your dick grow even after erecttion? I call it his magic c-"

" Hold on." Bilbo had pointed his pipe at you, staring at you, " How do you know that?" Bilbo had coughed again , with his cheeks red trying not to cry. "Don't tell him, maybe I held eye contact with not his eyes many times without him noticing , plus I asked him if he could grow tall as a house, and he said yeah, so I just assumed. I swear 100% I never walked in -"

"Hello, love."  You had jumped out of your skin, turning around, there stood Jareth, your face flushed red, shoving him gently. "Oh- , not nice Jareth, could've died from shock."  Jareth only ignored you, looking at your hair, his hand skimming over it , in interest.

"I heard you speaking of my cock, y/n/n, I'm flattered, but with those braids , I'm afraid you are no position to be making advances on me."  Lips slightly touching your eyes, as the vibrations of his whisper sent chills down your neck. “Well, what position do you want me in?” Pressing your back right against Jareths, his hot breath heightened onto your jeck. Thorin was fuming with anger, the dwarves didn’t know what to make of the situation.

“Y-y/n, enough do you not know what you have agreed to by those plaits?”

You had turned quickly pulling  Jareth away from the dwarves, well as far you could get anyways. "W-what are you talking about? What about the plaits?" Jareth had laughed loudly, getting the attention of the the dwarves , as you reached up to touch the braids.

"Oh, love, you don't know. Those plaits especially when done by a dwarf , signifies courtship, you have accepted." Eyes widened at the king, as he smirked at you, laughing lightly.

"What do I do? I am courting a king, I mean it’s not like I don’t like him , it’s j-“

“You are just being dramatic, you both share affections for each other, so what’s the problem? You know what to do if you need me.”poof he was gone, again.

So you had made your way over to Thorin, pulling him to his feet by his tunic, his eyes wide, as you pressed your lips to his harshly. His hands making their way into your hair, pulling you closer to him, kissing you back.

Your hands now under his jaw, the company well, they were as you could expect...cheering loudly. Pulling away from his lips, still in his hold , as you looked into his bright blue eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That consenting you to braid my hair , meant that I accepted your courtship? I would’ve anyways, but I had to find out from Jareth, I thought that was just a ruse to explain why I was travelling with a bunch of dwarves.”

“Sorry, thought you knew.”

“You hear that Lads, she thought he braided her hair out of the kindness of his heart.” Company had burst into mocking laughter, but you and Thorin had ignored it.

“Well, if we are going to get married, I need the goblin king as our wedding singer.”

“Goblin king?”

“What? You didn’t know, Jareth is the goblin king. Not that wart of a goblin, “

Thorin had only stared at you.

“No, you can’t kill him, his dick would come off and fuck you in the ass.”

“I’m sorry, who’s dick would what?” Bilbo had popped up , with disgust and confusion upon his face.

[baepsaetan]

Novocaine Enough | Yoonseok | Part 1

Amazing banner credit to @joonscore​​

Part 2 -> Part 3

Pairing: Yoongi x Hoseok

Wordcount: 6.1k

Genre: Exes to lovers, angst, smut

Rating: 18+

Summary: Four years later, and Yoongi is still an itch under his skin. Hoseok is trying to move on, from his past life and his past love, but there are some voids that can’t be filled. Some needs that can’t be met. And when Hoseok enters a club and hears the music of the man he left so long ago, he realizes that some addictions can’t be healed by anything as simple as time.

Warnings: Swearing; implied, mentioned and past drug use/abuse (cocaine, ecstasy, weed, alcohol); past overdosing; mutually unhealthy relationship dynamic; explicit (kinda angry) sex, including biting, oral, gagging, rimming, edging, marking, barebacking, thigh riding.

Ao3 Link: here

A/N: This took me a disgustingly long time to complete, but I’ve limped to the finish line! I wouldn’t have got there without @ditttiii​​, who helped me talk through an early version of the fic. Also major thanks to my beta @birbdae​​ for cleaning up this long piece! 

Is there anything he loves more than stepping into a club for the first time? The easy answer is yes, but in the moment – in the present – right now – Hoseok can’t give the easy answer. Shoving through the door is like plunging into water, waves of heavy bass surging against him as he submerges into the half-remembered music and suddenly warm air. The change in temperature is a welcome relief after the cold outside and only serves to reinforce the sensation of entering a thicker atmosphere. Breathing in against the sudden pressure, Hoseok does a grateful little skip as he pulls off his beanie and gloves.

Next to him, Taehyung laughs, the deep sound competing with the heavy music beating at Hoseok’s eardrums. “Not even on the dance floor and you’re already starting?”

Tossing his head to get his dark hair out of his face, Hoseok grins. “That suggests I ever stopped.” He hadn’t. Not really. Once you start to dance – to inhale the music and turn it into pure, unadulterated movement – you don’t really take a break. You just… slow down, sometimes.

His companion grins, a boxy affair with no ridicule in it. And why should there be? Taehyung is a dancer, too, and a helluva good one, if Jimin and Jungkook are to be believed. (They usually aren’t, but in the case of a possible new crewmember, Hoseok is willing to lend a little belief.) He’s known Tae for a year now, since Taehyung became friends with Jungkook in one of their classes and started hanging out with the crew, but it wasn’t until a week or so ago that Kookie persuaded him to show off his stuff. Apparently, in the past, there’d been some kind of accident that stopped Taehyung from dancing, yet according to Jimin and Jungkook, that hadn’t shown at all when he finally broke out in front of them.

Hoseok will see the truth for himself soon enough, anyways; it’s not like they came to the recently opened club to just stand around. His eyes flick eagerly at the thought, scoping the place out.

It’s pretty packed, and given how huge a club it is, that’s saying something. This is one of those open area concepts, all sprawling space with two bars pushed off to the corners, and a much smaller upper area, almost an oversized balcony. On the far side of the club there’s a DJ booth that’s swarming with people in front of it, so much so that he can’t see through the crowd to whoever is getting them so pumped. And there are more people streaming in by the second; he and Taehyung have had to shuffle to the side several times since they stepped inside, and by now they’re almost plastered against the wall. That would have been disappointing, except that according to Jin, on Saturdays the floor gets cleared at around 11 and the serious dancers get to have a go at it for a while.

In the meantime… Spotting a gap in the crush of bodies, Hoseok takes his chance and darts almost seamlessly through, throwing over his shoulder as he does so, “You want something to drink?”

His companion follows, albeit more slowly. Not that Hoseok can blame him; Taehyung is broader than he is, making knocked shoulders and collisions almost an inevitability. When Hoseok makes it to the nearest bar, he’s left the other behind.

It gives him plenty of time to hover around the edges, admiring the form of the bartender, who puts Taehyung’s shoulders to shame. The man in question isn’t exactly the picture of grace – not like those in Hoseok’s crew – but his energy is so loud, so vibrant, that it makes up for nearly dropped glasses and a few hesitations as he mixes the drinks for various customers. The breathtaking smile helps; the way he goes from 1 to 100 the second anyone tries to complain about the wait time probably helps, too.

Red-faced and outraged, he’s chewing out some poor guy for that exact offense when Hoseok finally finds room to sidle up to the front of the bar. “And if you think I’m making you another Manhattan after that comment, you can stick it straight up – oh. Hey, Hobi!”

The offender slinks away as Hoseok shakes his head in mock seriousness. “Is Namjoon paying you to bartend or to insult customers?” he shouts over the deep resonance that’s currently more a feeling shuddering across the floor than a sound.

Jin’s indignation doesn’t fade so much as evaporate entirely. Blinking with easy complacency, a small smile playing across his face, he turns and begins prepping the order a girl apologetically yells at him. “Just to bartend. The insults I give for free.”

“Wow, a star employee.” Fake seriousness dissolving into something more real, he asks, “Will Namjoon be around tonight? I wanted to ask him about the competition the club is hosting.”

It takes a few moments to reply, Jin’s hands and concentration caught in the mixing profession before he pulls himself away. “Not until a lot later, if at all,” the bartender replies eventually. “He’s looking after Remi tonight, so if he comes it’ll be after she goes to sleep. And can you imagine Joon leaving her alone?”

“No,” Hobi admits. Namjoon dotes on his daughter so much (the few times a month that he gets her) that it would be a miracle if he showed up tonight. Which is a little inconvenient for Hoseok, but the vague annoyance is buried under the reminder that being a good dad comes before being a good club owner.

He stands in fidgeting silence – silence surrounded by sound and people – for a few moments, playing with the studded collar of his black jacket, watching Jin work, and trying to enjoy the music. Taehyung must have been caught by someone, which is fine and not unsurprising given that it’s Tae. However, the absence of his companion, and with Jin mostly absorbed in his drinks, has mild anxiety trickling under Hoseok’s heels and through his fingertips. He rocks on the former and drums the latter against the sleek black leather of his pants in an attempt to drive the restlessness out. It doesn’t work particularly well, but automatically he finds himself adjusting his movements to the rhythm of the bass, and the focus required does help.

Each song is mixed so well, there’s no weird or awkward moment for his concentration to snag on, and the transitions are seamless, so smooth that the DJ must have curated this tracklist with individual attention to each end and beginning. Not unheard of, exactly, but certainly a pleasure when compared to many of the jarring amateur attempts Hoseok has been subjected to before. Last they’d talked, Namjoon had mentioned he was looking to hire another DJ for his new club, and if this is the man… well, Hoseok just hopes he’ll be the same guy who’s doing their dance competition, too. Another question – or request – to throw Joon’s way the next time they meet.

He’s just about to resign himself to submerging back into the crowd in search of Taehyung when the boy in question pops up, all teeth and warm apology. “Sorry, hyung! I saw a friend I haven’t talked to in a while, and you were so far ahead already I didn’t think I could call you back, and I figured it wouldn’t hurt to talk for a bit so I paused and then I’d lost you and –”

“Don’t sweat it.” It’s always been a marvel to Hoseok that such a rambling and excited apology could sound sincere, but Taehyung makes it work one hundred percent. “Let me grab you something. What do you drink?”

“Oh, well, I like whiskey sours, but you don’t have to –”

“Whiskey it is.” As he turns away, Taehyung’s surprised expression isn’t lost on Hoseok. Yeah, he isn’t often this direct, but the young man’s never seen him at dance practice and besides, the music is scraping under his skin, rubbing his bones the wrong way in the best way possible. It’s forcing him into a different form.

Suiting word to deed, he returns to the bar, puts in Tae’s request along with his own. Like a cheerful despot towering behind his counter walls, Jin takes the order before other people’s, waving off the muted outrage of his customers with shameless ease. It’s good to see his relatively new job hasn’t reformed him too much; it’s not that Jin’s ever actively rude or cruel. but he just has one pace, and that pace is his own.

For all that Hoseok admires that quality in his friend, it still has him flushing and ducking his head apologetically at the accusing looks. He’s quick to grab the drinks, but when he tries to shove money at Jin, the other man waves him off. “My treat,” the bartender calls. “When you all start dancing, everyone’s going to get thirsty and I’m going to be getting tons of tips!” His laughter quickly spikes too high to be heard in this crowd, but he’s still laughing as Hoseok, even more flushed, winds through the press of bodies with the glasses held high.

When he reaches Taehyung, his companion just sips his drink, but Hoseok downs his. The burn down his throat is no more intense than the burn he feels building in his muscles. A different kind of heat.

He finds himself shifting, his body beginning to ache with impatience. Tae is an entertaining person, but Hoseok's restlessness is blazing through his concentration, leaving cinders in its wake, and words of any kind – no matter how entertaining – are a poor thing in comparison. While he's always eager to move when at the club, this is a new level of agitation, a heightened awareness of the sounds and heavy ambience, and at first, he doesn't know what has him so on edge.

They talk some more, just waiting, really, for Jimin and Jungkook to arrive. Taehyung doesn't have a car and Hoseok had agreed to drive him, and Jimin was going to drive Jungkook after a late class. They should be here within half an hour or so, though in the meantime Tae, ever obliging, grabs he and Hoseok two more rounds of drinks. It's while he's grabbing the third round that the impatience becomes less of a hum and more of a howl, and Hoseok grasps with a sudden jolt that it's because of the song that's currently playing.

Whoever is mixing this music is really doing an amazing job; the song modifications, amplifications and beat alignments almost make the atmosphere come alive, and all it needs is an avatar to show off just how much energy it really has. He could be that. He should be that. It’s almost like he and the DJ are in a private conversation, and they’re egging him on, jamming little pinpricks into his joints, demanding he dance.

His mouth is dry – too dry – but that's nothing new when he's in the club, and Hoseok hardly notices it. The next song has just come on, as seamlessly as the last, and with a sharp pang of understanding, Hoseok realizes why he feels so tense, even more so than usual.

This DJ – whoever they are – has similar tastes as Yoongi. The powerful flow of thudding music is creating something in Hoseok, a kind of nostalgic frenzy, and it makes him swallow hard, swallow again with the feeling of shards of glass and regret slipping down his throat. He hasn't heard a DJ who favours reverb and synth choruses so much since the last time he'd guested at one of Yoongi's gigs. How long ago was that? Four years? He can hardly remember.

To remember is absolutely not why Hoseok is here.

"Hyung?" Taehyung says something to him, has said it more than once, to judge by his tone. Hoseok snaps his eyes to the other man's face, his breath abruptly staggered. "Hyung, are you okay?"

"Yeah," and to Hoseok’s ears his voice sounds tinny, strained. "Yeah, I'm fine. Jimin and Jungkook should be here soon, right? I should go grab some alcohol for them."

"Do you wanna take your shot?"

"I will after. Be back in a sec."

"Sure...?" Taehyung's eyes are sharp and probing, uncomfortably and unexpectedly keen, and Hoseok can't remember if he knows about Yoongi. He definitely wouldn't know Yoongi – none of his friends do – because they didn't know Hoseok back then. So – there's no point in explaining. No point in bringing it up. Hoseok swallows again, and walks away, needing to escape. Although he can't escape the music.

He also can't help how his gaze skitters to the DJ booth, there and back again, short looks that can't penetrate the barrier of people crowded around it. It can't be him. It can't. The last time he saw Yoongi...

You didn't come here to remember, he reminds himself savagely.

Jin has seemingly even more customers pestering him than before, and just hands off the drinks without a fuss. This time, hypersensitive and too raw to accept charity, Hoseok makes him take the cash, pressing it to the counter when the bartender tries to decline. Head tilting, thick eyebrows furrowing, for the first time this night Jin looks something other than melodramatic, and Hoseok doesn't want that. He came here to dance, for Christ's sake, not have someone notice a mini-meltdown!

Hefting on a smile that feels like it weighs one thousand pounds, he brushes off his friend's concern and darts away, carrying a tray of glasses. He's hardly taken a few steps before he downs his drink. Too much, too fast, especially for him, but he needs the soft buffer of alcohol right now. Hoseok won't look at the DJ stand. It's not him. There's no way it could be Yoongi. And even if it were...

It's not.

And even if it were, what would he do? Go down on his knees and ask for forgiveness? Punch him in his bleakly certain face? Or–

It's not him.

The music resonates around him – through him – in shuddering waves, jarring his weak attempts to tamp it down, and Hoseok is starting to feel feverish with the familiarity of the flashbacks flickering through his head. He's definitely had too much to drink. He just – he needs to do something. He needs to move.

It is with a huge wash of relief that he gets back to Taehyung and sees Jimin and Jungkook have arrived. Jimin is dressed in faded denim jeans and a glittering blue and yellow jacket, though the jacket will probably be off by the end of the night if other nights are anything to go by. Jungkook is a little more subdued, just wearing a simple white t-shirt and black jeans, but his outfit makes the tattoo sleeve on his left arm pop. Both of them are standouts in the crowded space. Add in Taehyung with his black and white patterned shirt and matching headband, and Hoseok really can’t blame the number of eyes he notices settled on the trio.

Taehyung is oblivious to it. “You’re back!” he exclaims, leaping forward to help Hoseok with the drinks.

Jimin’s sultry expression – he calls it his performance face – is something he wears as easily as his brilliant jacket, and he shrugs it off with just as much aplomb when his gaze lands on Hoseok’s tight look. Eyes flickering about as if he could spot the problem, his smile becoming warmer but tinged with concern, the small man accepts the glass from Tae and then asks, “What’s up?” 

A grin can be a work of art, and Hobi turns this into a masterpiece. All ease and bright lines, no clouds in this painting. He’s not quite as good at lying outright, but the noise probably masks his beat of hesitation. “Nothing! I’m just excited to get started.”

“Makes two of us,” Jungkook comments, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he nabs a shot from Taehyung.

“Three!” Taehyung chimes in. They all fall silent, turning expectantly to Jimin.

He’s still watching Hoseok, his lips lightly pursued. Hobi can’t help his nervous titter at the close examination, turns it into a more raucous laugh. “You’re not excited, ChimChim? Come on, we’ve been talking about this for weeks!”

At last, Jimin breaks eye contact, if only to shove back the unruly silver bangs tumbling across his forehead. “I’m excited,” he says, apparently deciding to drop whatever he’d seen on Hobi’s face. “Just hope there aren’t too many rookie dancers around. We don’t wanna make them look too bad when we start.” The look he wears is nothing short of angelic, but Hoseok knows well enough the competitive edge that lurks under that innocent façade. Jimin likes to win.

Jungkook huffs a fervent agreement. He likes to win, too. He’s good at it. Actually, they all do, and they all are. There’s a reason Hobi’s put this particular team together.

Right. Something to focus on, instead of the shadow of memory that the music keeps trying to make more substantial. With a playful nod, Hobi notes with false regret, “Well, if Tae is as good as you say, they might be out of luck.”

“I’ll do my best!” the man in question promises earnestly, and Hoseok can’t be sure, but he thinks he sees a flash of… something… in Taehyung’s eyes. Maybe not the same sharp need to win that Jungkook wears blatantly and Jimin cloaks yet never lets go of, but something. Passion, at the very least.

Hell, it works for Hoseok. Who cares what drives his people, as long as it's driving them to work hard?

As long as it isn’t driving them straight off a cliff.

He knows exactly where that thought comes from, and unbidden he turns to the DJ booth. It’s still too crowded to tell who’s working there. Probably a good thing. At this point Hoseok doesn’t know what will hurt him more; if the DJ isn’t Yoongi, or if it is.

The rest of them are talking and drinking, and he listens with half an ear, half a brain, half a being. The other half is straining to tell if the music really is as familiar as he thinks it is. If he can match that melody with that moment, or that bass with that breath, or that reverb with that regret. It’s stupid, pointless, harmful, but he can’t make himself stop. How funny, that he could have sworn he was over this. Had drummed it out of his muscles and his head both. God, if only he could dance.

Like an answer from the heavens – or maybe elsewhere – the music suddenly cuts off. A voice comes on the mic, clear, crisp, and familiar, but not who Hoseok was half expecting. It’s Jin. “Hey ladies and gentlemen and everyone else. As ya’ll know, it’s time for the Saturday dance off! If you fancy yourself a dancer, stay where you are, otherwise get your ass out of the floor area marked by the thick black lines. If you didn’t know there was a dance off today and you don’t like it, there’s a big ass door under the exit sign. I think we’re over capacity anyways.” With a loud blare of feedback, he cuts off.

Slowly at first, then more quickly, people start wandering out of the space Jin had indicated, crowding against the walls, or heading to the smaller area upstairs. He thinks he sees a few people leave after the announcement, but that might have just been a coincidence. By the time things have cleared, there are some twenty people on the dance floor, not including his crew.

This is exactly what he needs to clear his mind. Hoseok observes those left, his head tilted, an easy smile unconsciously gracing his lips. He can tell at a glance a few people are just idiots who want to flail around and call it dancing. There’s nothing wrong with that, exactly, but experience has taught him that people like that usually get pretty embarrassed when they suddenly find themselves next to professionals. Unless they’re really drunk, in which case they’ll just be a slight distraction. Nothing his guys can’t handle.

As for the rest… Hoseok actually recognizes two women, a couple he’s met at a few competitions, both official and underground. They’re good. Really good. His smile grows, and amid the tingling warmth of all the alcohol he’s had, there’s a fiercer burn, a kind of exultant excitement. He’s too drunk, probably, but this is crystal clarity, a heatwave burning everything unimportant and leaving just his focus and his friends.

And the music. The DJ regains control of the mic system, and he’s starting off with something heavy, almost ominous. The bass is shaking the floor, shaking Hoseok’s foundation, and he finds himself shaking in response, with little tremors of tension. Whoever’s running the music, they know how to start a show, and Hoseok is aching to finish it.

This isn’t an actual competition, of course. No judges, or set songs, or styles. It’s freestyle, and if there’s any kind of critic, it’s the crowd, already buzzing with anticipation and adding to the air of expectation. Hoseok breathes in and it feels like he’s inhaling something far more than air.

Because this isn’t run by anyone official, there are no rules about who can start, or how, or when. While Hobi and the rest of the serious dancers size each other up and feel out the rhythm, a trio of wasted kids stumble into the center of the floor. Their awkward floundering is laughable, and so Hoseok does laugh, a joyful sound echoed by Jungkook and Taehyung and a good deal of the crowd and competitors. It’s not unkind, at least not on Hobi’s part; he’s just too excited to reach the level that’s so far above these people to keep back the explosion of mirth. 

Jimin’s lip is lightly curled when Hoseok glances at him, but though he isn’t laughing, he’s squirming in place, clearly impatient to start.  

Why keep him waiting?  

“You ready?” he asks his crew, a redundant courtesy. They are. “I think we go low for this one? I’ll take the center? Let’s go… Jimin, then Jungkook, then Taehyung? And keep heavy on the left?” Phrased as questions, but they aren’t, just more courtesy, letting Taehyung know how he wants to approach this. They’ve already discussed general four-person set-ups, with Tae and without. The other two know what Hoseok wants. Everyone nods, short, sharp.

He steps forward. Not far. Not really enough to crowd the hammered trio’s space. Just enough to announce their presence and give them room to work. His friends follow, and Hoseok can almost feel them at his back. The wide grin has faded, replaced with an unintentional intensity that, unbeknownst to him, makes it hard for people to look away. Most of the laughter in the crowd dies, replaced by wire-tight quiet.

In that quiet, he begins. Slowly to start. Why hurry perfection? The music pours into his marrow and he turns it into movement, gives it form and features for the simple price of sweat. Jimin, Jungkook and Taehyung join in several beats later, not quite matching his moves or each other, but close. Distorted shadows. They flicker in time with the rhythm, a collection of power moves loosely connected by breaking. Hoseok breathes, draws in the crowd’s awe and admiration, and turns it into fuel as he burns through everything but the music. 

Worries, memories, regrets, nothing can survive the blaze of his concentration, and Hoseok feeds them to the flames with ruthless abandon, glad to feel them smoulder to ashes.

 His moves become sharper, harsher. Everything gets so much more defined when he dances. The audience, his friends, his body, they all assume a stark clarity, almost painfully distinct. He doesn’t worry – he just moves. The music pulses all around him, urging him on, a nameless connection, and as the fluid lucidity gets even sharper, he prepares to speed up.

Soon – in fact, at what feels like exactly the right moment – the song flows into something else. Faster and more electronic. His body reads it almost before his mind does and Hoseok feels himself changing his motions to fit. More popping now. It feels right to hit the floor, so Hoseok does, in a totally controlled spin on his back that nonetheless looks wildly, perfectly out of control. He stops with a shoulder roll that allows him to transition to his feet, making room for Jimin to step forward and claim center as the crowd cheers.

Jimin is… fucking beautiful. The thought is a vague spark without solid form in the midst of Hoseok’s movement, but it’s true all the same. He dances differently than Hoseok or Jungkook, more gracefully, like any second he could swap his bones for the wind and begin to fly.

Not immune to the effect, but far too disciplined to fall for it (much), Hoseok keeps up his pace next to Jimin, letting himself relax even further into the music. The drunk trio are long gone, shuffled off in embarrassment, but some of the others are inching closer. They’re being polite – letting his crew get in a full rotation – but that’ll end soon enough. He relishes their interest. Not because he has something to prove, or particularly cares what they’re thinking, but because once they start to respond, it’ll be another bar to aim for, another goal, one more reason to keep dancing. And God, does he want to keep dancing.

Jungkook is next, powerful, demanding. He hits each move like it’s personally offended him, smashes into the poses as if he wants to break through reality and reach some other plane. When his feet hit a series of rapid beats in quick succession, it’s enough to get the crowd, already primed, to start whistling and whooping.

Hoseok finds himself doubting his choice to put Taehyung last. From what he’s seen from the corner of his eye as they’ve gone, Tae has kept up fine, his movements slick and confident. Maybe just a hair slower than the trio, but that could easily be chalked up to a lack of familiarity, given how much the other three have practiced together and how long Taehyung has been on a break. Still, asking him to follow up what Jimin, Jungkook, and Hoseok himself have already shown… He’d thought it would give him time to settle any nerves and see how they all approached being center, and Jimin and Jungkook had sung his praises to the high heavens, but now it seems like it might have been cruel.

Taehyung moves into the middle, and for some reason there’s a sudden swell of appreciative screams. Not from anything Hoseok can see from behind and to the side – maybe Tae had made a particularly great expression? The screams don’t really… stop… after that. From what Hoseok can observe, he gets it.

Turns out it wasn’t cruel to put Tae last. Like, at all.

The man is a consummate performer. Several times, when Taehyung’s supple steps put his back to the front and Hobi can see his face, he’s almost literally struck by how good his facials are. Passion is the name of this game and Tae plays it to perfection, his expressions conveying such a range of intensity that it’s a surprise he hasn’t started a fire with his glower alone

Hell, Tae winks at him at one point and Hoseok finds himself grinning at the smug audacity, breaking his own fierce look. Whoops.   

He whips it back on, but they’re almost done, anyways. Another group has edged closer, brash with impatience, and a few seconds later start their own dance. Of course, Hoseok’s crew doesn’t give way immediately – like you could snatch the crown that easily – and for a little bit they’re actually dancing against the other crew. It’s a brawl of sorts, Hoseok’s favourite kind of fighting. It doesn’t last long enough (it never does), but it’s exhilarating while it does. The fact that their opponents are pretty good is just gasoline added to the flames.

However, if a good dancer knows how to step while on the stage, a great one knows when to step off the stage, and as the most recent song winds down, Hoseok stops himself. Unwillingly, painfully, but he does. He gives a short bow to the opposing group, granting them the floor amid a cascade of cheering. 

When he and his crew walk away, the shouting just gets louder, deafening in its wild appreciation. Exhilaration swells under his ribs, threatening to crack them with its overwhelming force. For just a moment, Hoseok hears the cheers, feels the way his body is still crackling with energy, remembers how good it had felt to move, and he’s complete. For just a second.

And then the moment is gone.

The rest of his friends are grinning under the praise of the clubgoers, a little playful swagger in their steps as they jostle each other, giving compliments and insults on the individual executions each had pulled. Jimin snags his jacket from a girl who had picked it up from the floor, waves with giddy appreciation at her. They’re quick to find a good spot to watch the other dancers, the crowd happy to give way after what they’d shown. A couple of people offer to get them drinks and Jimin accepts while Jungkook and Taehyung beam. They’re all practically glowing, flush with success. They’d done well; they deserve to be proud. He’s proud of them.

He can feel proud and still be hollow, right? The sudden empty fatigue hits him like a cement truck going 100. It’s almost always like this after he dances, and the more intense the performance, the harder he gets hit. Hoseok abruptly becomes aware of the sweat pouring off him, the waves of heat billowing across his skin, the strained, quiet pain of muscles stretched just a bit beyond their limits. He’s… tired isn’t right. He could do three or four more routines like that, all in a row, without getting truly, bodily exhausted.

Drained. Yeah. That’s it. Like he’d poured something vital into each move, spilled himself across the floor, until there was too little of him left.

Jimin and Jungkook know him well enough to give him a little space after a dance, but Taehyung isn’t in the loop yet. “Hobi-hyung!” Sweat has darkened the younger man’s light brown hair, and if it weren’t for his headband, it probably would have been dripping down his face. “Hyung, you were incredible! You have to teach me how to pop at your knee like that, I’ve only ever done my upper body!”

The disconnect is there, unbearably strong. It will fade in the next few minutes, leaving him just fatigued instead of full-on wrung out, but in the meantime Hoseok makes himself laugh. Taehyung deserves that much, even if it sounds strange to his ears. “Only if you teach me that expression you were wearing during the chorus while you were center. Think I saw a few people faint when you looked their way.” He laughs again, trying to make the sound more natural. Pretty much fails.

Taehyung seems grateful for the compliment, nonetheless. He bobs his head, flashing a boxy grin. “It’s not a fair trade. Making faces is easy; I think I’d have to be high to move like you were, if I ever could.”

His jaw abruptly tightens, tension arcing through his throat. So quick he wouldn’t have noticed if he weren’t expecting it, Jungkook and Jimin exchange a glance. They know (almost) all of his history. Jimin reaches out, plucks at Taehyung’s shirt sleeve. “Come on,” he whines. “Didn’t you see me? Don’t you think I was cool, too?”

It’s a masterful attempt at distraction, though Taehyung seems inclined to dwell on Hoseok’s moves. “Well yeah, of course! But what hyung did was –”

Jimin interrupts him. “Anyways, I want to introduce you to one of our friends,” he says cheerfully. “Seokjin-hyung. He works as a bartender here.”

“Oh, but Hoseok-hyung already–”

“I’ll come too!” Jungkook chimes in, and together they drag the bewildered Taehyung into the crowd and away. A kindness, letting Hoseok have this moment of weakness. What had he done in another life to deserve these people in this one?    

What had he done? For just a second, a memory enters his head, of a few colourful blue and red tablets sitting in an outstretched hand. A voice, achingly ironic and raspy, asking, “You ready to get ecstatic?”

He couldn’t have said if it was the pill or the voice that he longed more violently for after the sodden rush of dance-inspired euphoria was gone. Given the way his eyes cut to the DJ booth, Hoseok supposes he has his answer.

He has his answer, but he doesn’t have what he wants. The press of people has dispersed with the dance-off, the clubbers are more interested in crowding the square than swarming the DJ, leaving his view clear for the first time tonight. There’s a girl working the booth. Not someone he recognizes.

Not Yoongi.

A shaky exhale splits his clenched teeth, and Hoseok closes his eyes. He hasn’t been listening to the music since they stopped dancing – not really – but it sounds different now. No longer as intimate, the connection between him and the rhythm is broken. Had he just imagined that bond before the dance-off, made up that gut-wrenching familiarity? Given that he hasn’t taken any drugs tonight, he seriously doubts that he has the creativity to imagine something so vivid.

Maybe the girl DJing learned in the same style as Yoongi. Maybe that’s what set him off.

He hasn’t had any drugs tonight, but he’s still coming down from a high. That’s how it always is, after dancing. He told his friends, his family, that he got clean, but it was a lie. Hoseok just replaced ecstasy, his drug of choice, with something else. Movement instead of MDMA. Not a bad trade. He couldn’t have made a career off of being a chronic user, after all. Couldn’t have found happiness, either. Probably.

His mouth is bone dry, and he’s lost sight of his friends. They’re probably busy harassing Jin. For a while Hoseok watches the other dancers, fingers tapping out a pattern on his thighs in time to the beats, grateful for the chance to pull himself out of his despondency with a bit of friendly critique. From what he can see, the group that went after them is the most skilled so far. 

The couple he’d recognized earlier haven’t gone yet, and they’ll shake up the ranking, but slowly Hoseok settles into the comfortable conclusion that his crew is the best one here. It doesn’t matter – there are no announced winners – but it’s promising for the actual competition coming up in a few weeks.

Things get better. He gets better. He always does. By the time the couple finishes their piece – with a flourish of partner flips that have him joining the raucous cheering – Hoseok is back to feeling energized by the sweat still slick on his skin. He’s back to being overjoyed by the music beating against his eardrums, back to savouring the crush of bodies and noise and life that scream nothing more than here you are, right now, isn’t it amazing!        

Even stepping in a thick puddle of someone’s spilled drink isn’t enough to dampen his spirits.

With a grin and a lighthearted curse, Hoseok heads to the bathroom, intent on wiping off his shoes. Sticky sneakers are a fact of life at clubs, but given that it’d been a mini lake of beer and he hates the sensation of his feet peeling across the floor, this seems to be a justified trip. Even better, the dance-off is finishing; he won’t be missing anything.

It’s as Hoseok is leaving the washroom, shoes squeaky clean, that someone grabs his arm from behind. Hard. He startles with a yelp that’s barely audible over the raucous noise of the club, his heart rate spiking. Moving jerkily with the admittedly excessive alarm pounding in his chest, Hobi turns to berate whichever of his friends thought it would be funny to sneak up on him.

Freezes. Stares. Doubts.

Hoarsely ironic, Yoongi observes, “Still as jumpy as a cat on hot bricks, huh?”

[sevlgi]

the florist pt. 2

requested: yes

group: dreamcatcher

pairing: jiu x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: hanahaki!au, florist!jiu.  read part 1 here.

warnings: death

synopsis:  Minji’s drawing away. You know that; you can see it, and you can feel it deep in your bones. But when you finally realize the pain afflicting her, will it be too late for you to save her?

a/n: I’M SORRY THIS IS BASICALLY FULL ANGST ASLKDFFDSKJN... i’ll do a part 3 if y’all want it 😬

word count: 3.6k

Sometimes, the arrival of a new person changes the way you see things.

That fact had been true for Minji for years; meeting people always taught her something new, whether it was about the world or about herself. And yet, no one had ever been able to change her thoughts about her 6 closest friends, until she found a beautiful girl in her flower shop, begging for help with the blooms in her lungs.

She didn’t mean to resent Siyeon. She shouldn’t have-- you were a stranger, just another person that used your personal connection to her friends to guilt her into helping you. But when Minji saw how dismissive you were to even the possibility of asking Siyeon to save your life, she realized something about her friend, and she realized something about you.

On one hand, Siyeon knew what she could or couldn’t do to help others. Minji had seen her go out of her way to pick up a fallen grocery basket for someone or help an old lady across the street, but she would never try to lift a car to save someone underneath. She knew her limits, and Minji had to accept that it wasn’t selfish of her to protect herself.

But on the other hand, you were selfless. Too much so, really. You hated the thought of inconveniencing the girl you loved, even if it meant that you would die. It took too long for you to convince yourself to even ask Gahyeon for help, just because you knew how touchy of a subject it was for her.

Maybe Minji loved that about you, at the same time that she hated it. And maybe it was something that she hated about herself as she stared at the speckled purple blossoms swimming about in the toilet bowl.

“Shit,” she whispered, wiping droplets of blood off her lips. “It’s getting worse.”

“Obviously.”

Gahyeon looked more grim than sympathetic as she offered a box of tissues to the older girl. She experienced the disease herself for long enough that she knew how painful it was, and she was smart enough to know that Minji didn’t have much time. “How long has it been?”

“8 months.” Minji gingerly plucked petals out from under her tongue, flicking them away. “I met Y/N 8 months ago.”

She could’ve smiled just by saying your name, but she kept her face solemn as Gahyeon did the math in her head. “8 months. It takes 3 months to fall in love, but knowing you, it was probably shorter.”

Minji rolled her eyes, taking a sip of water. “Watch it.”

“I’m just saying,” Gahyeon protested. “But at most, you’ve had Hanahaki for 7 or 8 months. So why are you basically on your deathbed? Y/N told me she loved Siyeon unnie nearly 2 years before she even bothered to ask me for help.”

“Maybe my heart is just weak,” the florist sighed, leaning her head against the wall. “It’s my fault, I fell for a client. A client, Gahyeon, how stupid am I?”

The younger girl scooted closer, wrapping her arms softly around Minji. “You aren’t. Okay? Y/N is amazing, and if I wasn’t so hung up on... if I had the time for it, I could see myself loving her too. You should--”

“Don’t,” Minji warned, eyes narrowing. “Don’t tell me to tell her. I can’t put that on her, and I can’t let her know that I’m in... that I’m in pain because of her.”

“You’re one and the same, you know that?” Gahyeon shook her head. “The exact same.”

But no matter how much she griped, Minji knew that her friend wouldn’t reveal the secret, not until she was lying on her deathbed. She was trustworthy, and she would leave Minji to her own solutions if she asked for it.

Finding a real solution was what would become the problem.

“Hey, Minji!”

Even though you felt awkward with your shoulder pressed up to your face and bags in your hand, you smiled as you squeezed the phone closer to your face. The florist hadn’t picked up on your call, but you didn’t fault her for being busy. “Uh, I’m coming to you to make Gahyeon’s cake like we promised.”

You cursed as you dropped one of the grocery bags, taking your phone in your hand to finish the message so you could check out. “I’m almost there, so wait up for me! I got some special supplies for you too.”

Rounding the corner onto the Love Blossom, you fished your keys out from your pocket. There was a pink jewel-studded one on the chain, new as of just 8 months ago, but it felt like it had always belonged there as you twisted the lock and pushed the glass door open.

To your surprise, Gahyeon was waiting inside, almost looking like she was shielding the door to Minji’s apartment. “Hey, Gahyeonie,” you greeted, attempting to wave. “Good to see you.”

“Hi, Y/N. What’re those for?” she asked, nodding her head at the bags. “Baking again?”

“Yeah, you know me.” You craned your neck, trying to see if Minji was fixing a bouquet somewhere, but you didn’t find the brunette anywhere. Gahyeon, standing smack in the middle of the shop and blocking the door, didn’t help. “Is Minji here?”

“Oh, yeah. She’s just... finishing something.” The younger girl’s smile was disarming, obviously hiding something and yet innocent enough that you could’ve just been paranoid. “You don’t mind waiting, do you?”

Your eyes narrowed, but you shook your head. “So, uh, how’s Siyeon?”

Gahyeon softened at that, sighing, “Still not ready to see you. I’m sorry, she... she feels guilty now, that Minji and I had to help you not die.”

“It’s okay.” To be honest, it was true; despite all the feelings you’d invested into her, Siyeon couldn’t break you just yet, not even after you barely recovered from the Hanahaki disease. “I’ll give her time.”

“I’m grateful for that,” the other girl smiled, squeezing your arm. “On her behalf.”

Before either of you could say something more, the hidden door creaked open to reveal a Minji that was decidedly more gaunt than when you had last seen her. Her cheeks were hollow, lips pale and dark circles unable to be hidden by the layers of makeup she wore. “Oh. Hey, Y/N, what’re you doing here?”

You raised the bags in your hand in answer. “Baking? We agreed a couple weeks ago.”

“Oh!” Minji attempted an apologetic smile, though you still got the feeling that she didn’t really remember. “Right. Gahyeon, I’m fine, you can go home.”

“Are you sure?” the younger girl eyed the florist critically. “Because--”

“Gahyeon. I’m good.” Minji’s tone left no room for argument, and Gahyeon merely waved at you before making her way out. Finally only the two of you left in the shop, the brunette opened her door for you. “Sorry about that. Come in?”

Despite not really wanting to overstep, you blurted out, “So. What was that about? If you’re sick, I can easily go home and bake there...”

“No, I’m good!” Minji tried her best to grin, but something was just lacking. You also noted that she did her best not to touch you, skirting around the kitchen table to be on the other side. “Did you get chocolate like I asked?”

“I did,” you nodded, accepting the fact that she wouldn’t talk about it until she was ready. After all those months, you learned that when Minji was stubborn, there really was nothing that could change her mind. “Chocolate because Gahyeon likes it, but I also got vanilla to make cupcakes for anyone who doesn’t like it?”

She clapped and you played along by bowing, though she stopped so she could start to taking ingredients out of the bag for you. “Oh-- what’s this?” she frowned at the can of coconut cream she held in her hand.

“That--” you snatched it out of her hand-- “is for you. I learned how to make coconut mousse recently, and I thought that while I’m here, I might as well treat you.”

Minji opened her mouth to speak with a smile, but she was interrupted with a sudden fit of coughing. You reached to grab water for her, concern parting your lips, but she waved you away. “I- I’m fine. A bit of a cold, that’s all, I’ll be right back.”

With that, she ascended to her loft again, leaving you with coconut cream in your hands and confusion written all over your face. In all the 8 months that you had known her, Minji hadn’t gotten sick once; she brought you chicken soup when you got the flu and miraculously avoided it, claiming herself to have “immunity superpowers” with that amazingly infectious smile. So it was weird for her to be so affected by a simple cough.

But as you turned back to your cake recipe, you tried to write it off. After all, she’d saved you already... she didn’t owe you any explanations.

Yubin was sweet. A lot quieter than Minji, but she was that calm kind of funny that didn’t really require being boisterous to invoke laughter from you, and you definitely didn’t mind it. “Thank you for coming to shop with me,” you mentioned as you bent down to stare at the label on a folded jacket. “Minji said she’d come, but she’s really busy lately.”

“Yeah, she can be like that sometimes,” Yubin shrugged, pointing a decorative cup out to you. “She insists that she doesn’t like to burden us or whatever.”

“That’s bullshit, but it sounds like her,” you sighed. You folded the jacket over your arm and picked up the cup on your way to the register, Yubin following with her gift for Gahyeon already hanging on her arm. “But I can’t help but think that she’s hiding something from me... just me.”

The younger girl raised an eyebrow. “Really? I mean, Minji’s been quiet recently, but I don’t think she’s treating you any different. If anything, she’s nicer to you than she is to the rest of us.”

You chuckled at that and passed your credit card over the counter. “Right. She is being really nice to me, almost weirdly nice. You know, I brought my baking supplies over to her the other day, and she didn’t even try to throw flour in my face. It’s weird.”

“You’re right that that doesn’t sound like Minji,” Yubin frowned, opening the shop’s door for you as you walked out. “I don’t know, she’s like a different person after meeting you. Doesn’t talk to Siyeon much--”

At the guilty expression on your face, she stopped talking. “Y/N, it isn’t your fault. Minji... she’s just too kind. She never understood how our friend, who saw the effects of Hanahaki herself, could just let you die.”

“Isn’t it my fault though?” You tilted your head to the sky, observing the fluffy white clouds that floated over the skyscrapers of Seoul. “I gave her that responsibility of healing me, she wouldn’t have given a shit if she didn’t have to heal me.”

“Well, if you think that, then you still don’t know Minji well enough.” The other girl laughed softly, shaking her head. “See, it’s less about letting you die and more about letting someone else die. We all know that Siyeon-unnie couldn’t love you on command, but Minji thinks she was callous with how she rejected you.”

“Yubin...”

She held up a hand so that you’d let her continue to talk. “See, she’s selfless. She could’ve turned you away, no matter how much Gahyeon tried to convince her, but she didn’t. Minji can’t handle the thought of not doing something when she could, but she would also never impose on others.”

“Do you think that’s what’s happening?” you asked suddenly. “Is she sick or something, and won’t tell us?”

Yubin hesitated to answer, her expression conflicted. “I want to say no. But it’s... more likely than not.”

You almost reached for your phone, but you remembered how curt Minji’s text messages had been in the past month, and how often she had blown you off. “Huh. Well, I guess we’ll just have to ask her tomorrow.”

“Yeah. Coffee?” your new friend offered, stopping in front of a small coffee store. You followed her in, more and more worried about the florist as you thought about her. Your heart was beating uncomfortably in your chest again, as quick as it had been when you had Hanahaki, just without the unrequited love clogging your lungs like so many months ago.

You leaped onto Bora’s back as soon as you saw her, laughing as she shrieked. Gahyeon, who had been talking to Bora, grinned at the sight of you in your sparkly outfit. “Gahyeonie, happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Y/N.” She took the gift from your hands to set it down on a table, Bora hitching you up higher on her back. “Now that you’re here, will you convince Handong-unnie to let me see the cake?”

“Not a chance,” you sing-songed, sticking your tongue out at the pouting birthday girl. “I spent hours on that cake, I’m not letting you see it before the grand reveal with Minji. Where is she, by the way?”

“Minji?” Bora frowned, finally giving up and letting you down onto the floor. The petite woman scanned the apartment with her lips pursed, swishing her specialty punch in the cup she held. “Mm. I don’t think I’ve seen her today.”

Your eyebrows furrowed at that, and you stepped further into the living room to try and catch the florist among the throng of celebrators. “Really? That’s unlike her, I would’ve thought she’d be here first.”

“I think Siyeon stepped up for organization this time,” Gahyeon offered. “I can... ask her for you?”

You were tempted to agree; after all, it had been nearly a year and a half since you had confessed and gotten painfully pushed away. But then, you had to know where Minji was for yourself-- any information, even if it was given to you by Gahyeon, wasn’t trustworthy unless you heard it for yourself. “It’s fine,” you sighed. “I’ll go.”

“Y/N, are you sure?” Bora asked quietly, catching you in your stride with her hands on your arm. “She’s not exactly friendly towards you.”

“I’m good,” you smiled in an attempt to reassure her. “Really.”

Once you left the two behind, it wasn’t tough to find Siyeon. She stood in the kitchen with Handong, laughing at some joke or the other that you couldn’t hear over the music. To your alarm, your heart hurt a little bit at how beautiful she looked, blonde hair lengthened by extensions and lips colored; but it wasn’t the disease, just a normal twinge of remaining heartbreak as you approached her. “Hey.”

She didn’t turn until the hostess pushed her to. “Y/N. Hello.”

You pursed your lips at her attitude. “Look, I don’t want to talk to you either. All I need to know is where Minji is.”

“Minji...” Siyeon frowned at that, turning to look at Handong, who shrugged. “She still hasn’t shown up? The party started hours ago...”

Handong offered, “She texted me a little while ago, she said she had a cough? It’s not like Minji to be sick, but I’m sure a cough is no problem.”

“A cough?”

The three of you turned to find Gahyeon behind you, her expression a mixture of grim and absolutely horrified. “Gahyeonie..?” Siyeon asked, panic seeping into her voice just like it did yours.

“Y/N, you need to come with me” was the youngest’s only answer as she grabbed onto your wrist. “We don’t have enough time, Bora can drive you to the LB. And--”

“Hey, Gahyeon, what the hell is going on?” you asked, quieting yourself when she hushed you. “Is Minji sick? And if she is, why wouldn’t you tell us? We can buy her medicine--”

“She has Hanahaki.” Your eyes widened immediately and you stopped in your tracks, ignoring Gahyeon tugging at you. She gave up, and tried to soften her words. “Y/N... Minji loves you. And you don’t love her back.”

You stammered, attempting to find the right words to respond. But there didn’t seem to be any-- none of the sentences on the tip of your tongue could even come close to describing what you wanted to say, so you could only settle or saying, “What?”

Gahyeon pinched her lips together, typing something furiously on her phone. “Yeah. It’s progressing too fast, I think, she was on the brink of death when you saw her last. Coughing out full blossoms already, and I’ve already found her choking on her own blood twice.”

“But...” Your mind raced, trying your best to find an explanation. “I’ve only known her for 10 months.”

“That’s how much she loves you, I guess,” Gahyeon shrugged, turning as Bora bounded down the stairs. “Please save her. It might be too late, but- but I don’t want Minji to die without seeing you one last time.”

Bora grabbed you then, not giving you a minute to even ask if it was okay to leave. It was a short bound to her car in the driveway, and the both of you seemed just as desperate to reach the florist when Bora pressed down on the pedals with close to her full force.

You came dangerously close to crashing into at least 10 cars, and you were sure that you had run a red light, but there was nothing else on your mind as you slammed the car door closed and kicked the door to the flower shop right open. “Minji!” you shouted, craning your neck to try and see up to the loft. “Minji, where are you?!”

At the sound of some weak coughing, you were leaping up the stairs, gripping onto the banisters to move even faster. And there she was, looking all too frail and weak in her bed.

There was a spray of blood on the pale pink comforter, wrapped around her body with minimal effort, and Minji’s eyes were barely fluttering open. “Y/N,” she croaked, hand creeping up to touch your face as you fell to your knees right next to her. Her voice was hoarse, almost gone from the months of coughing up mallow blossoms and blood. “You came.”

“I... of course I came.” Your voice was shaky, and there were hot tears already spilling down your face. “Minji, why wouldn’t you tell me?”

“Not- not your responsibility,” she coughed out. “I couldn’t let you feel guilty for what’s happening to me. It’s not your fault, Y/N, that you don’t love me.”

You sobbed out at that, wiping your eyes roughly with the palms of your hands. “Minji, please...”

The girl lying before you could barely be called a shell of Minji, and no matter what you said, it could only be your fault that her eyes were as sunken as a skull’s. It could only be your face that her wrist was as delicate as that of a bird, that her hand wasn’t even able to support the weight of your head as you slumped down to sob next to her.

There was nothing bright shining in those brown eyes anymore, none of the light that exploded into a thousand golden sparkles whenever you baked her favorite pastries or arranged a bouquet just right. There was no smile on her parched lips, no laughter shaking her entire body or a stupid joke that no one really understood.

All the memories of the Minji that you remembered flooded into your mind, like videos flickering over the nearly-dead girl that you could see in front of you. Minji when she spent hundreds of dollars for your birthday bouquet, Minji when she took you as a plus-one to her favorite concert. Minji when she smiled at coconut tarts, Minji when she presented you with your very own apron for the shop.

Was there something I could’ve said to make your heart beat better?

Said. As what could’ve been Minji’s last breaths began to escape her lungs, your head shot up and your heads reached out to cradle her to your chest, your lips moving faster than you could’ve ever imagined to say those three words out loud. “I love you. Kim Minji, I love you I love you I love you so much, please don’t leave me--”

You couldn’t feel her breathing against you with the force of the sobs racking your entire body, rocking back and forth on the edge of her bed with your hands wrapped around what was left of her familiar frame. “Please,” you cried, her hair damp against your cheek with your own tears. “Please...”

And with the last plea that escaped your lips, she drew in a rattling breath, only to cough it back out with a good 2 blossoms or so. You gasped, holding her away from you and patting her back to help as Minji vomited purple speckled blossoms onto her bed. 

“You said it,” she rasped, collapsing. All you could do was continue to cry, the salt of your tears finally tasting sweet on your lips instead of bitter like they did when you thought that the girl you loved was dead. 

“Thank you.”