#(read the fic it'll make more sense)

[fandom-hoard]

Is it just me or is there a trend of more and more "poorly written" fics?

I don't mean "poorly written" as in the story being bad or not engaging, I just mean that it'd get a bad grade in school because it doesn't have correct capitalization/punctuation/formatting/ect.

But fanfiction is NOT written for a grade, so authors can write however they want. Just, can anyone tell me if they think fanfiction getting more casual is a trend that's going to keep increasing?

I'm not against reading fic like this it's just that I find it very very distracting and tiring to try and read, but I don't want to miss out on good fics because I grew up with some elitist idea of what writing should look like or something.

[martianbugsbunny]

Locked In This Embrace (An Espionage Husbands Fic)

*Shapeshifts from being a filing cabinet* So funny story, this started out as like, a good old fashioned scene rewrite fic where I just thieved the dialogue from the show itself and added some inner monologue and of course my own twist at the end bc otherwise what's the point? and OF COURSE the scene I picked was the forehead touch scene between Nick and Talos, I'm obsessed with it. It was supposed to be basically just that scene plus a romantic end, real short and sweet.

It kind of got away from me and consumed several hours of my life. I analyzed the scene itself so a lot of the gestures Talos makes in the fic are actually what he was doing onscreen. His inner monologue is matched to the canon gestures/facial expressions and I swear on the ship it works so well he could actually be thinking that stuff in canon. At this point half or less of the fic is the actual scene rewrite, that's how much of my own material I added.

...and yes, the title is derived from a post I made earlier about this exact scene. It's maybe not the best title but that's my weak spot so that's how it is.

Here's my offering to the blorbo gods and the Espionage Husbands fandom, read on and enjoy!

“I am so sorry,” Fury said.

“Me too,” Talos replied, his voice low. He savored the feeling of Furys forehead pressed against his, sharing space, breathing the same air; he had lost one love, but the other lived, and the fact that Fury cared enough to meet him with a Skrull embrace rather than a Human one returned a bit of the warmth to his heart that he had lost when Soren died. “Soren loved you,” he said. It felt right to remind Fury of that—Fury, who had cared for her almost as much as Talos had.

“But she worried, mate,” he went on (he was never quite sure if he was using that word in the Human context of "friend" or in the Skrull one of "partner"), “That it would take something like this to bring you back to Earth.”

Fury pulled away to look Talos in the eyes. “I guess she was right,” Talos finished.

For a moment, Fury said nothing. Talos wondered if he knew that the word ‘Earth’ was never the one that he or Soren had used when worrying over Fury’s absence from their lives. Talos remembered her saying, only a few days before she died, “I’m afraid of what it will take to bring him back to us.”

But Fury didn’t know that.

He cupped his hands around Talos’s face for a brief moment; far too little time, yet so precious, and then let go and sighed heavily. “Tell me about Gravik,” he said, and Talos tried not to let it show in his face how horribly heartbroken he was that Fury could move on from such a personal moment so quickly. Fury was back for Earth, not for…well, now it was just him. Even if he did feel for Talos the way Talos did for him, which Talos had never been able to decipher or been bold enough to ask, there were more important things to do than trying to determine where the two of them stood.

And still…Talos was never one to let things go. “Let’s just talk about you first,” he suggested. “We’ve been helping you for all these years, to ensure that you kept your promise. But after the Blip…you were different.” Life during those five years had been a nightmare for Talos, even though he had survived. It was terribly complicated, being grateful that his wife and daughter had been spared, and yet grieving the loss of Nick like the loss of his soul. If he hadn’t had Soren to lean on, Talos hated to think of how completely the darkness would have enveloped him.

“You disappeared.” That was the final pang. After all the agony of the Blip, Fury had been returned to life and Talos had, for a moment, hoped he could finally ask, once and for all, where their relationship truly stood. And then—he was gone. Settled in space, almost as lost to Talos as he had been when he was dead.

“Carol Danvers disappeared,” Talos said. She, like Fury, was supposed to be helping the Skrulls find a home. He was less angry at her, though, because she wasn’t Fury. She didn’t occupy that same space in his heart. “And—so did G’iah.”

Fury turned to him. “Your daughter disappeared? To where?”

“She was young. Angry that our people still don’t have a home.” G’iah was the one person he loved more than Fury, and Talos didn’t hesitate to defend her to him, even though he was utterly disappointed in her decisions. But like he said, G’iah wasn’t evil. A lot of rebel Skrulls weren’t. Just angry.

“Many of them were upset. I got kicked off the Council, pushed into exile, but Gravik—Gravik, mate, he took your abandonment—” Talos couldn’t quite look Fury in the eyes where he said that word—“that much harder.”

When they went back downstairs so Maria Hill could brief Fury on the rebel Skrulls, Talos tried not to read too much into it that Fury sat next to her, on the complete opposite end of the table from himself. She was, after all, the closest friend Fury had.

He also hated that, as the only Skrull at the table, it was his job to break the news to Fury just how precarious the Gravik situation was. “We brought you here for a reason,” he said. A far heftier one than my broken heart, he reminded himself, realizing that it was probably about to get a lot more cracked. “If he succeeds…your species will cease to exist.”

Fury stood up abruptly, pushing his chair back from the table. “Shit,” he muttered. “I’m going for a walk.”

“You’re going for a walk—in Moscow, at night?—You’re gonna stand out.” Even if he couldn’t meet Fury’s gaze, Talos couldn’t resist the urge to warn him off from getting hurt.

And then just like that he was gone.

Talos stared at Maria across the table. He didn’t care that his expression was probably giving away how he was feeling—he wasn’t even sure what label to put on it, so why should he bother to hide it?

“He loves you, you know,” she said, after a drawn-out moment of silence. “When I told him I was calling at your request…well, his tone changed awful quickly.”

That was the call where not only had Fury been summoned back to Earth, he had also learned of Soren’s death. Talos had insisted Maria tell him; the wound was too fresh, and he hadn’t wanted the first time he saw Nick after all those years to be a moment for breaking bad news.

“I’m not so sure,” Talos answered. He got up to look through the fridge—he didn’t truly like a lot of human food, but there were some fruits that tasted nearly identical to Skrull produce, and he kept a stock of them whenever possible. He pulled out a half-eaten can of lychees and a fork from the silverware drawer. “He left.”

Maria followed him to the kitchen area, leaning against the small counter. “The Blip hurt everyone, Talos. The rest of the world may not think so, but you and I know that he’s only human. He needed the time away.”

“He could have spent it with us.” “Why are you so hung up on that? I know you missed him—”

“Missed him?” Talos shoved the can to the side and turned towards Maria. “If you can say that lungs would ‘miss’ oxygen or that veins would ‘miss’ blood, then yeah. I missed him.” He buried his head in his hands. “It wasn’t just those five years, Maria. For decades I’ve wondered if he loved me, always too afraid to hear that answer was no to even ask, always sure that if he felt so, he would tell me.”

“You could have told him how you felt,” Maria reminded him.

“I could have. And he could have. We wasted all that time and I just—I can’t help but believe that if he had been down here with us, like he should’ve been, maybe he could have done what I couldn’t. Maybe Soren would still be alive.”

He abandoned us, Talos wanted to say. It was what most Skrulls believed about Nick Fury, although Talos could’ve told them they had no idea what it was to be abandoned by him.

Soren had never made a secret of her affection for Fury; all those years locked away from her husband in Mar-Vell’s lab had taught her how precious love was, and how freely it should be expressed. Talos, on the other hand, feared rejection. Loneliness. Ages of being hunted by the Kree, mistrusted and reviled by other species, had taught him that. And yet…with Soren by his side, it was always clear that Fury had a home with them if he wanted it. And Fury had accepted that offer and lived with them from time to time, his nearness and his close relationship with Soren driving Talos mad.

Why did he give up that home when they needed so badly to see him alive and well after his death?

Suddenly Talos remembered something else Soren had said. They had been washing dishes together, while Fury was in the living room admiring some drawings that G’iah had made.

“You’re a stubborn man, Talos. And I love you for it. Anyone else might have given up on finding us again.” She handed him a plate to dry. “But…I wonder what it would take for you to take a leap of faith.”

“I don’t know what you mean.” (He did.)

“Hand him your heart, Talos, and trust him not to break it.”

Soren had been able to do it all that time, and it had never cost her. Yet even now, when he was finally reunited with Fury, Talos had only been able to give him Soren’s love, and not his own.

It was on him as much as it was on Fury that they had never determined what they were to each other. And it was his inability to protect Soren, not Fury’s absence from them, that had cost Soren her life, Talos decided.

When Fury finally returned from his walk (and a kidnapping, Talos was alarmed to hear) he informed them that he had set up a bug in an associate’s house and was expecting to get new intel on Gravik’s plans soon. Maria took charge of setting up their end of the surveillance equipment, and Talos determined to take his chance and do what Soren had advised him to do years ago.

“Fury, can I talk to you for a moment?” he asked. He noticed Maria smirking and wanted to sigh. “It’s….” Not information on which the fate of Earth or Humanity hung, but still….“Important.”

To Talos's surprise, Fury’s irritation with him had entirely dissipated, no doubt in light of the new information they were about to get. They went back up to the roof and stood looking out at the city together, the silence amiable.

Talos reached over and took Fury’s hand. His fingers were cold. “I’ve always loved you,” he said, staring straight ahead. “And I’m sorry it took me so long to say it.”

Fury smiled. “I had guessed. Figured you would say it when you were ready—didn’t quite expect that to take three decades.” He pulled Talos close and repeated the Skrull forehead touch they had done earlier, their fingers still intertwined. A single tear slipped down Talos’s face. “I love you too.”

[bookwyrminspiration]

in honor of your titz fic (lol tits) what are your thoughts on them? why do you like them as a ship?

fun fact, i think they're just an alright ship. enjoyable, but there are better. the primary draw for me is that Tam and Fitz are my favorite characters, and so pairing them (not necessarily romantically) can be quite a fun study. I just like both of them and with titz they're both there!

As for actual appeal of the ship though, there is the golden boy vs scorned/banished shade situation. Wants to believe in their world vs completely disillusioned about it. There's their sibling bonds--Tam with his protectiveness of Linh and Fitz with his defense against Alvar, which is like 2 sides of the same coin. They're two boys who struggle with trust (Tam with his readings, Fitz saying he only trusts Sophie), and given that relationships are built on trust? Lots of potential there.

Dynamic wise, Fitz is someone who is completely infatuated with the subject of his affection. And Tam is someone who has only ever been loved and appreciated as himself by Linh. That's not to devalue his relationship with Linh, but to say he's not experienced in being cared for. And Fitz cares so much. Sometimes to the point of rage, which pushes most people away and hurts them. But Tam has the kind of thick skin that isn't so easily bruised, and Fitz's fury with the world around him isn't daunting, it's familiar. That's not to say Tam will let Fitz lash out at him, but that he's equipped to push back.

I think they can complement each other--there's a reason I was drawn to both of them individually, after all. There's something there. Titz isn't a ship I lose my mind over generally, but rather a "what if we explored this" kind of thought experiment--at least to me :)

[aphroditesmoon]

wish you'd ask me

clarisse la rue x fem!demigod!reader

summary: you're not good at reading subtle hints, clarisse realises that maybe she should've been more upfront with her feelings for you.

warnings: fluff, oblivious!reader, clarisse is down bad, reader is very neurodivergent coded, kissing, flirting, title n fic inspired by 'Wish You'd Ask Me' by Matt Maltese.

A/N: thank you for 1.9k followers!! I love you all dearly, my ask box and dms r always open, im glad that my writing is being enjoyed by so many people<3

wc: 4.5k

You have been in camp half blood for more than 4 years. You have made yourself at home for the last several years. 

It was easy to view yourself as lesser or inadequate in comparison to other mortals during your days in the real world before you were sent to camp. The world has never failed to remind you of how different you were. Always too much or not good enough, always special and never normal

And it wasn't like you were dying for some sort of diagnosis to justify why you are the way you are, but upon discovering that you were actually a demigod, it felt like all the questions you've been harboring to yourself was finally answering themselves. 

Everything clicked. Everything made sense, though at the same time, it felt impossible. You were a very confused little girl when you first arrived at camp. A girl who just wanted someone to tell them that it'll all be alright in the end.

And you still remembered the first person to hold you by your shoulders and made you look into their eyes as they told you that it was all going to be okay.

The girl with beautiful long curls and dark piercing eyes. The girl that everyone else, apparently, was afraid of.

But you could never be afraid of Clarisse La Rue. 

Not with the way she smiles when every time she sees you, the way she never fails to make you feel included even in activities you're not capable of participating in. Not with the way your whole body electrifies every time your skin touches, when your hands brush against each other. 

It didn't matter what anyone think, because no one could change the perception you've built of her. Clarisse La Rue is good. Or at least she is to you.

When you first heard of the rumours surrounding her, you did think better than to force a friendship on her. You strayed away from her and stuck to your cabin siblings and your books, but you noticed daily how she'd still go out of her way to talk to you at least once a day.

It didn't need to be a long conversation, just a passing acknowledgement. An easygoing 'hey, how've you been doing.' Sometimes she'd even go as far as cracking a joke with you.

With how serious her face is whenever she make the jokes, you'd have to think twice as hard and thrice as faster than another person to try and guess if she was being genuine or not so you could fit in a necessary laugh when you needed to.

Even as her anger became more apparent because of the new kid's accidental climb to fame and embarrassing the Ares' cabin, she still found time to make a conversation with you.

It had been long since you tried to ignore or avoid her. You learned that her attention towards you is harmless, and that she seemed much more comfortable telling you certain things compared to others. If she has been viewing you as some sort of safe box, then you don't really mind it. You liked listening to her talk and keeping her heart's intent as your secret.

You too, talking to her. To some people, you are reserved,  

and to others, talkative. Either way, people find it easy to discard you at any moment they decide you are irritating.

But Clarisse listens. And she asks questions, she's patient- much patient that anyone could anticipate or guess. 

It may be hard for others to believe, but Clarisse is more complex than she seems. She had the capacity to be gentle, and she had the capacity to respect boundaries. The more time you spent with her, the more that side becomes easy for you to access.

Today, however,  marks a new record for your friendship with her. A few weeks ago, she had informed you of her newfound interest in the history of folklore monsters. What a coincidence that you were currently self-studying on that specific topic.

She insisted that you hook her in on whatever it is you're learning. She had even gotten you a doughnut to eat together outside the library as you told her of your insights of dragons and their theorized blindness and incapability to differentiate a variety of prey.

The conversation went well, she seemed immensely in awe of your knowledge and had no problem telling you how she felt. 

You even gave her some book recommendations, though you knew she wasn't much of a reader.

You felt a shift in your relationship that night and had spent the next three days studying more and more about the topic. And today, you had asked her to spend the evening with you. 

You shouldn't feel so nervous asking her to hang out. That is what friends do, after all.

She found you in the library, sitting on the floor in between two large bookshelves. She had been right on time and enthusiastically so. The two of you sat together, hidden by the shelves as some semblance of privacy. 

Clarisse looked confused when you had explained that you indeed wanted to spend the rest of the day in the library, but she accompanied you anyways.

You could never get sick of the smell of the books. Old and new, they all have some nostalgic past tied in between the pages, begging to be discovered. 

You had your back on the walls with tinted windows above your head as she's seated opposite of you in a criss-crossed position.

Today, the library isn't as packed as usual. There were still people walking in and out and checking out the books on the counter, but not too many that it became obnoxiously loud and annoying. 

After finishing another book of Monsters and how to spot them, you're feeling knowledgeable enough to explain the lore of the Giants to Clarisse, she had asked you about this the other day, giants have been long extinct to the point that some might even say they may have never even existed. And so you were interested in sharing with her all of the information you have learned about the majestic species of a beast.

You started with the general information. The basic understanding of what a Giant is the mythhs of Giants and the validity of those sources. Clarisse listened closely in the beginning, never interrupting you unless she had an actual question.

She seemed in awe of the stories you tell her of. You don't blame her, for you yourself have been most interested in the topic of Giants.

You were an hour an a half in when noticed her attention faltering. She leaned against the cases of books, her eyes twitched slightly when you began to explain the different types of giants, and the difference of how they operate.

Her hands are folded together on her lap, and you can feel her listening in on everything you're telling her as she adds in some commentary here and there, but you also felt that she wasn't entirely in on the conversation.

The dim lights of the library made the atmosphere feel warm and secluded, even with its vast space and many other campers hanging around in the other tables and shelves. You made sure to keep your voice low as you spoke in fear of the librarian kicking you out. 

You had a good reputation with the library workers, they liked how organized and polite you were. 

"A lot of people think their greatest strength is their size, which is valid, they are huge, but their real weapon is their mouth." You told Clarisse, ignoring the litter of books by your left that you had brought over for reference.

"They kiss you to death?" She asks suspiciously. You laughed shortly and shook your head. "No, I mean their breath."

She responds with an 'ohh.' 

"They're giants, so their mouth is large too, and you can easily tell what they had for breakfast even from their tall height. Their breaths are also known to be so rancid it could kill you, because they don't exactly eat what we eat." 

She raises a brow as she stretches her hands upwards. "Isn't that ogres?" 

"It's both." You confirmed.

You were about to continue your explanation but halted by instinct as you notice how her mouth keeps pursing together as if unsatisfied, and she has that look on her face that mimicked a confused expression. You're don't think there's anything to be confused of.

"Are you okay?" You asked her worriedly. Clarisse sits up straighter at the question and waved a hand off to assure you she's fine. "Of course, no yeah- I'm fine."

"You seem bored, you're not really interested in what I'm saying are you?” She opens her mouth to counter your words but hesitates to say anything. 

"I- well, I like giants-" She attempts, "-no you don't. " 

"No. I don't." She admits with a sigh. "But I thought you said you were interested in these kind of stuff?" You questioned her. "Well, yeah, like the general idea of it. I mean, I don't hate it, and I like hearing you talk about it." She answers with a shrug.

"Then why do you look disappointed? If you didn't want to come, you could've just told me. I wouldn't get mad." You told her honestly. It was conflicting for you to see her so confused on what to say, being so picky with the words she chooses.

You figured she's probably reluctant to hurt your feelings. That is a notion you're used to. You'd rather she tell you the truth to your face than to be catered around like a time ticking bomb that everyone's so afraid might explode at any time. 

"When you asked me out yesterday, you told me this would be an 'evening to remember." She tells you with such confidence like it was an explanation to her weird behaviour today.

"You don't think this is an evening to remember?" You sincerely inquire.

"No, I do! I just- well, when you said that I didn't think you'd mean we'd be doing this." Your frown deepens as you try to figure out what she means, eyeing her body language closely. “What do you mean? I told you I wanted to hang out.” 

A part of you is offended. She was the one who had said she liked hearing you speak, why would she be disappointed that this was your idea of spending time together?

"I don't know, I thought we'd just be doing...something else?"

It didn't matter what she had really meant with that. You felt completely embarrassed once she finished her sentence. Why was it that everyone else had no problem having long conversations with their friends, but when it came to you, it's all too awkward, unnecessary, and odd? 

You liked Clarisse, you considered her your friend. Sometimes you wonder if it could ever be more, but you never entertain those thoughts because you don't want to ruin what the two of you already have. 

But moments like these resemble a huge slap in the face by the universe.

You couldn't even be good friends with her, how ridiculous of you to think that there could ever be something more.

"Okay, um, maybe we should just go back to our cabin." You decided whilst standing up and picking up the stack of books you're currently borrowing from the library, ready to leave the place without waiting for her.

"Hey, wait." She called out as you walked past her. You spared her a glance, trying your best not to show how upset you are.  “We're friends." She says it so much like a question that you weren't sure if she's even sure of the fact herself until she continued speaking. "I like hanging out with you."

Another thing that you weren't sure if she really meant. "Sure." You replied thinking it's the most suitable response. 

Before she could say anything else, you turned around and started picking up your pace until you disappeared out of her sight.

—

You have been consistently ignoring Clarisse. Which proved to be harder than expected.

When you pass by her camp or the training ground, you make a mental note to always look down or to your front as to never accidentally cross eyes with her.

And everytime you hear her call out your name, you keep walking like you didn't even hear her, knowing that she wouldn't be bold enough to call for you again. After all, she still had a reputation to uphold.

If ignoring her wasn't hard enough, having to deal with how you felt for her is worse.

You've been avoiding confrontation with yourself for weeks even before you decided to go no contact with her.

And so far, you thought you've been handling it pretty well. Except for days where you don't see her where she's expected to be. You tell yourself that you don't care as you make your way to training in the day and reading in the evening, and yet you still go back on your own words when you asked a passerby Ares kid on where his cabin leader was.

"She's dunking some kid's head into a toilet bowl." Of course she was.

You thanked the dude and went back on your way to your cabin. It's close to dusk, the sky is turning orange and the sun is dipping itself below the earth. You take your time returning to your cabin as you enjoy the way the sun slowly removes itself from anyone's viewing.

You wondered to yourself if things like these are what makes you weird or off-putting to some people.

Was enjoying nature and having niche interests only cute when it's done by girls pretty enough to be cool or if it's only in romance movies or books.

You don't find yourself weird, in fact you think all of your hobbies are pretty common and usual, and yet the way Clarisse had spoken to you at the library last week had made you feel unnatural.

You had wanted to do normal people things with her, but maybe your perception of normal is different to her.

Either way, you are pretty hurt with how she reacted. You loved her still, of course. It's kind of hard to unlike the girl you've been obsessed with since you were 15.

Once you finally reach your cabin, you quickly put down all of your books and your tiny sling back by the side before making it to the shower to refresh yourself before dinner.

You thought it hilarious of how hard you're trying not to care about Clarisse, and yet as you're cleaning yourself up, changing your clothes and attempting to read at least 15 pages of your World's Most Dangerous Beasts book, you could only think of her.

What would it take for her to think that you're cool, what kind of things did she want to do instead of listening to you yap around for 2 hours on what is an equivalent of a boring dinosaur facts, not that you really think dinosaurs are boring.

During dinner, you kept to siblings and had to make yourself finish your plate as your anxiety wrecking thoughts have a way of deriving you of an appetite. You also had to convince yourself to not search for her at the other tables which took more strength than one would expect.

But you succeeded, and you were now sure that the only obstacle left for the day was to try and fall asleep without the thoughts of her keeping you up.

Clarisse is a force, a fierce daughter of Ares, and a cabin leader who had much better things to do then hole up at quiet small places with you.

And just because she was nice enough to mantain a good relationship with you for 4 years, does not mean that you're worth her time. Or at least that's what you tell yourself.

That night, you managed to fall asleep after an hour of recalling Harpy facts in repetition. Counting sheeps had never worked on you, so you had to find something much more active to tire out your brain.

You dreamed of Clarisse with her hair down, holding your hand and pulling you closer so she could slip a flower on your ear.

And just as she's looking down at you, moving closer to do what it seemed like to kiss you, you awoke with a jolt, swearing under your breath as if you'd just gotten jumpscared by a ghost.

Someone's palms moved to shut your lips as you're met with a girl, hovering over you in the dark. Clarisse's dark eyes were recognizable, but it sent a shot of adrenaline through your body still.

"Shh." She whispered to your face, hand still keeping your mouth shut. "I'm going to remove my hands now." She whispered again. You nod in understanding and waited for her to pry her hand away from your face.

"What are you doing here?!" You exclaimed as quiet as possible as she helped you sit up.

"I'm sneaking you out." She answers with a wink. "It's 2 in the morning." You waved your hand around at the darkness and sleeping children. "3 in the morning, and yeah, I know. That's why it's called sneaking around." She corrects you with a grin so devilish that if you hadn't known her for a long time, you'd assume she's about to turn you into a new toilet bowl or dumpster boxing victim.

You sighed loudly and glared at her despite your fast beating heart. Her hand remained on top of yours until the minute becomes more awkward and she removes it as if she just remembered that she's been holding your hand.

Without explanation,  she climbed out of your bed and tiptoes to the open cabin door. You're still sitting up and looking at her with conflicted feelings.

Only after she turns back to you, cocking her head towards the entrance, do you give into her request and softly leave the comfort of your bed and trail after her.

"Where are we going?" You asked after her as she kept walking. Instead of responding, she asks you another question back, "Can you swim?"

"We're going swimming?" You watch her shrug in return from behind her and became even more distressed.

"So, is this your idea of having fun and hanging out then?" She laughs drily and slowed down so you could catch up. You walked fast enough until you're beside her and waited for her to talk. "You sound surprised, I would've thought that after 4 years of friendship, you'd know by now that I love doing things that includes active movements."

You did know that, it's a bit hard to not notice how much working out, training and running fuels her even more.

"And why are we doing it in the middle of the night?" The walk towards the lake by the back of the forest was short, considering that your cabin is the closest to the location.

You almost tripped and fell over a stick, but Clarisse was quick to scoop you back up by the back of your shirt. "Thanks." You mumbled to her. "And you haven't answered my question."

Clarisse pulled her shirt over her head and tossed it on the ground without caring of your presence. You, having more moral obligations than her, twisted your face to your left when she began to pull her trousers off. "Too many people in broad daylight." She tells you.

That is a valid reason, this lake is mostly known as a hook up spot, and true to it's cause, many dating campers have been caught together here during dawn or late evenings.

You braved yourself to turn towards her again slowly and realised that she had already hopped into the water. She had a sports bra on and a boxer.

And though you yourself had a tank top and shorts on, you contemplate the idea of suicide as a better choice than having to strip in front of her.

"Are you gonna get in, or are you just gonna gawk at me from there?" You were grateful for the dark being able to hide your flushed face from her, but deep down, you knew that she probably saw it anyways because of the shining bright moonlight.

"I can't swim." You told her.

"That's fine, the water's not very deep." You ransacked your brain for reasons to decline her offer, but at the same time, a small part of you yearned to take this risk that you've been so afraid of for gods knows whatever reason.

Clarisse is there, in the water and under the moonlight. You are only a few steps away from her. And like she said, the water isn't deep, only waist length. She stares back at you with a raised brow like she's challenging you to join her.

"Turn around first." You tell her. She smirked slightly before slowly spinning to the opposite direction. "You know I've seen you naked before right?"

"What?" You choked out, aghast. "Who do you think changed your clothes for you when you first got to camp." Oh, that.

Your shoulder relaxes as you realize she's talking about the first time you met. "That's was a long time ago." You noted. She hummed im agreement. "Yeah, we've both grown since."

You told her she could turn around once you're inside the water. Forgetting about the heighy difference between you two, the water was high enough to reach your chest, trying your best not to trip underwater the way you always do on dry ground, your hand instinctively reached outnfor her shoulder.

Clarisse held your forearm tightly and drew your closer to her until you're inches away from eachother.

You breathed in sharply and felt the need to fill in the awkward silence. "So, you...like swimming, huh?"

"Yes, evidently so." She answered. "Right right, can't sit still and all that." She actually chuckled at your sarcasm, making you proud of yourself.

"You know, even before I came to camp Half Blood, I use to be a pretty active person, running track, volleyball, sometimes swimming." Your eyes widened in curiosity. "Really?" She nodded.

"The counselor told my mom that I just had so many untapped energy, which I guess is a code for anger issues." Her grip on your forearm moves higher until her palm is over your shoulder.  "She told her that it'd be best for me to find a...healthy way, to channel that energy, and for my strong competitiveness. So I joined what I could, and that's how I spent most of my free time there. Besides, I never was that good academically. So, I ought to at least be good at something, right?"

"You are good." You blurted out. Your embarrassment faded away when you saw her smile. "You think so?"

"Yeah." You assured her. Her other hand had snaked around your waist without you noticing. Only when you moved slightly do you notice her holding you softly.

"The moon is really nice tonight, isn't it?" You said, trying to diffuse the tension. You pointed your finger up to the sky at the singular white orb.

She glanced up and let out a 'huh.'

"I like it when it's bright and whole like this, the moon in all of its glory. You don't even notice the starts around it when it's glowing like that." You could stare at the moom forever, even longer than the way you've been staring at the sun.

You believed in it the way children do with their birthday candle. To you, the moon has always been a symbol of hope or comfort for your future. Your fascination for it existed from when you were a child, the way it'd follow you from behind as you gazed upon it from the back of the car seat whilst your parent drove down the road.

The way it moved above you as you walked home from school, like one of the gods themselves watching over you.

"Nothing compares to the moon." You announced aloud, watching as the clouds around it began to gather over it. "Yeah, It's beautiful." You hear Clarisse speak.

As your head snapped back to her, you found that she had already been facing you.

"I like the moon...but not as much as I like you." She whispered loud enough for your ears only. Her face leans closer to yours, your noses brushing together. "Not as much as I like to hear your voice, when you tell me about your little harpy facts-"

"Oh, I haven't told you about the harpies yet." You cut her off. "I just finished that chapter this morning actually and-"

"-and, you can tell me about it after I'm done talking." You blushed and became silent, letting her speak.

Clarisse exhaled breathily, fanning your face with the subtle warm air. "I like doing things that friends do with you, but I don't want to be your friend anymore."

"Oh."

"I want to be more than friends." She elaborated.

"Oh." Oh.

You feel a sudden tightness in your chest, from anxiety or from butterflies is undecided. "You want to be best friends?" You joked, laughing nervously.

Clarisse snorted at your joke, but she was still grinning widely. "Best friends, If that's what you want to call it."

There was a moment of understanding shared between a second of shared gazes before her lips attached themselves to yours. An urgency, approval, meaning that can't be described by words.

Whatever gentleness there was inside of her before had vanished. Clarisse kissed you like a starved woman. Her lips craved yours like it'd be the last time she'll ever know how you taste like.

Your hands clasped on her shoulder and neck for support as she embraced you tighter to her body. You let her tongue slip into your mouth, meeting your own.

And as they danced together, inhaling all there is in your lips, every secret and every confession that have died on the tip ofnyour tongues, you are sure that no heaven nor hell could tear you open to see you back together like this.

You push her back abruptly, letting fresh air fill your empty lungs. "What's wrong?" Clarisse inquired worriedly.

"Last week." You sighed out, chest still heaving as your thoughts clicked together. "You thought I had asked you on a date, that's why you were disappointed."

She winced at the reminder, and for the first time in your life, you had been lucky enough to witness a flustered Clarisse.

"I'm right." Her silence confirmed. "Oh Clarisse, why didn't you just ask me?"

Huffing loudly, she rolls her eyes in irritation. "I thought I was obvious enough. "

Thinking back on it all, it did seem pretty obvious, but gods were you oblivious. The way you intepreted it all so wrongly.

"I've liked you for so long too." You admitted to her. Her scowl was gone at that, replaced by a teasing smile. "And what are you gonna do about it?" Her mouth returned to yours, letting go of all your fears and holding on to Clarisse like she's your anchor, you close the gap between your lips, welcoming the kind of pleasure that you've never tasted before.

[milliesfishes]

౨ৎ꣑ৎSilver Bells౨ৎ꣑ৎ

౨ৎ꣑ৎ12 Days of Christmas Masterlist౨ৎ꣑ৎ [fem reader] contains: fluff :) pairing: fem reader x young politician coriolanus snow summary: coriolanus doesn't understand why you want to decorate the tree yourself, but you insist author’s note: welcome to the first fic of twelve this month!! I hope you love them as much as I do <3 Spotify Playlist

The smell of fresh pine cut through the air of your home, filling you with a sense of whimsy that you were sure would stay for the rest of the season. You stopped, leaning against the wall and balancing the box of ornaments on your hip. A smile crept up your lips, and you shook your hair back, the mere idea of what you were about to do filling you with holiday joy.

Gliding into the living room where your husband was reading a report from his favorite chair, you set the box down and knelt at his feet, folding your arms on his knees and resting your chin there. He lowered what he was reading, raising his eyebrows. "Yes, darling?"

You gave him a sweet smile when he reached a hand out, smoothing back your hair. "Are you going to help me?"

"You know, the servants can just as easily do the tree as they did the rest of the house," Coriolanus remarked, giving you a fond look.

"But it's more fun to do it yourself," you insisted, surveying him with soft eyes. Though he was wearied by the day, it made him no less handsome. His hair had been gelled into place when he left this morning, but now you could see the hint of curl peeking out, softened by his fingers running through it. The tie he'd worn in the office was discarded and two buttons were undone at the top of his shirt.

Standing up, you reached your hands out. "Please? It'll be fun." You flexed your fingers, blinking innocently at him. "You'd deny your wife-?"

He stood, setting his report to the side neatly and sliding his arms around you, a kiss buried in your temple. Coriolanus smoothed the top of your head, lifting a strand of hair caught in your earring. "Never."

You bounced on your heels, pleased to have gotten your way.

And so it began. You eagerly opened boxes, gingerly lifting ornaments from their cushioned packaging and cooing over each one. Coriolanus patiently held decorations on his fingers by their hanging strings, smiling at you when you gushed over how excited you were about each one. He stood faithfully beside you, ornaments in the palms of his hands while you determined their perfect place on the prickly branches of the tree. The radio crooned soothing carols and you hummed along, smiling at the way Coriolanus' lips twitched upwards.

He didn't used to like music, the radio only there for decoration. But when you moved in you started flipping it on when you entered the room, twirling and singing along. He endured it stiffly for awhile, but about a month in you walked by his dark wood office door and heard the smooth sounds of the oldies station you favored.

Standing there, gently hanging a glass snowflake, you breathed in the pine scent, thankful once again that you had insisted on a real tree. Coriolanus, eager to give his wife what she wanted, had called for a massive thing to stand in the front room, and it looked rather pretty there against the snowy backdrop behind the window. But you had requested another tree, one to go in the living room. Simple and pretty, just for the two of you.

He'd hardly blinked at it, kissing your forehead and saying you knew what would look best. You knew something of your husband's past, of his struggles to scrape together anything that looked decent. There were remnants of his past in his mannerisms. In the way he valued nice things, the way he finished every bite on his plate. He enjoyed luxury, but not wasting money. It meant the world that he wanted to spoil you so, make your home look perfect the way you wanted it.

Additionally, he worked like a madman, almost paranoid that his fortune would disappear from between his fingers. So having him here, at your side hanging ornaments from the evergreen branches of your tree was a gift. A holiday miracle.

You stepped back, the box of ornaments emptied completely, only cardboard and bubble wrap left inside. Tugging Coryo back with you to view the full effect of the tree, you gave a little squeal, squeezing his elbow. "Oh, it looks so beautiful, doesn't it?"

"You did a wonderful job, darling," he praised, dropping his lips to your hair.

"Oh, I forgot the star!" Rushing over to the table, you picked up the golden burst, rays extending from the center like splayed fingers. You strained with all your might, but even in heels you couldn't reach the top of the tree.

A warm pair of hands found your waist, lifting you off your feet so the star in your hands was inches from the tip of the tree. You plunked it on top and Coriolanus set you down, sweeping your hair behind your shoulders. "There we are. Better?"

You nodded quickly, tugging on his sleeve. "Would you turn the lights off? I wanna see how it looks in the dark."

Dutifully, he went to the switch, waiting for you to click the twinkle lights on. The room went dark, and you stepped back to admire the effect. "Oh!"

Coriolanus appeared at your side, sliding his arms around your waist and pressing his cheek to the side of your head. You had the distinct impression that he was watching you, not the tree.

When you turned your head, he mouthed a kiss on your cheek. "You like it?"

"I love it!" You touched his big hands on your stomach, squeezing both. "Coryo..." Turning around in his arms, you cupped his face in your hands, kissing his cheek and leaving a red lipstick mark. "You're so sweet to me."

His smile warmed you like a cozy hearth, and you wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in his neck. Coriolanus hadn't let go, just tightened his arms around you when you shifted. He began to sway gently, and you squeezed him tighter when you realized it was to the melody from the radio.

"It's our first Christmas together," you murmured, bending a knee one at a time to kick your shoes off.

You could feel his smile in your hair. "Hardly."

"Our first Christmas married," you clarified, tapping him on the nape of his neck. Pulling back, you searched his eyes, lifting a hand to push back a wayward strand of his hair, loosened into a curl.

Catching your hand, Coriolanus pressed a kiss there, right over the diamond on your wedding ring. "What do you want for Christmas, darling? I don't think I've asked you yet."

"You give me so much already." With a smile, you kissed his other unmarked cheek. "You spoil me."

"Not nearly enough." He smoothed your hair, cupping your face with one hand. "You're my angel. Nothing could ever be too much." A sweet smile bloomed on your face as he dipped his head to kiss you. "I'm sure you've been overdoing it with your Christmas shopping too."

"Spending your money," you pointed out, and he shook his head, still rocking you back and forth with the music.

"What's mine is yours, sweetheart," he repeated, a favorite mantra of his. You could almost mouth what he said next, but you loved it. "I work hard for you." After you kissed him, Coriolanus chucked you under the chin, other hand rubbing your hip. "So tell me. What do you want for Christmas? Last year it was a wedding, and I gave you that. So what is it this year?"

You hummed, running a hand up and down his chest, subtly unbuttoning his shirt. "I want..." you paused, hand going to his belt, holding it for a moment. "...a kitten."

"A kitten?" His voice was only slightly breathier than normal.

"You like cats, don't you?" you asked, reaching through his shirt to flatten your warm palm on his chest. He was a sight with his half-undone shirt and a lipstick kiss on each cheek.

Coriolanus walked backwards to the sofa, sitting and holding you across his thighs. You played with the edges of his shirt, and he watched you fondly. "I do." He smoothed your sides where your dress had bunched up. "Theoretically...what color?"

"I like all the colors," you giggled.

He raised his eyebrows. "Shall I get white to match the furniture?"

You smiled, resting your head on his shoulder. "That might be a little too much." Thinking for a moment, you said, "I've always liked black cats. They're so sweet."

"Hmm." Coriolanus stroked your back. "I'll keep that in mind."

Lifting your head, you hummed a bit of the carol emanating from the radio. "Do you think it's snowing?"

"I'll make it so if you want it to be," he muttered, and you laughed, standing up and going to the window. Indeed, thick flakes were wafting from the sky, sticking to the icy grass.

Coming back to him, you quietly said, "It is," and he smiled, pleased as if he'd done it himself. You sat back on his lap, cheek to his shoulder as you looked at the tree. His hand settled on your stomach, securing you to him.

"It's going to be a perfect Christmas," you whispered, eyes on the tree still glowing. The candle you'd begun to burn was a peppermint one, the sharp scent tickling your nose and making you dream of wintery things.

"It will be." Unlike how you'd said it wishfully, Coriolanus said it as a promise. And you involuntarily cuddled into his chest, cozy and warm. Fire crackled in the hearth, warming your back. Coriolanus stroked your back. "I'm going to call up for tea in a minute."

"Hot chocolate?"

He smiled. "Peppermint hot chocolate."

You smiled, nuzzling his shoulder. Drumming his fingers on your thigh, Coriolanus said, "You'll need a new dress for the winter gala, won't you?"

"A red one," you confirmed, and he squeezed your thigh.

"I can take you shopping if you'd like tomorrow?" He drew little patterns on your leg as he made the suggestion.

"No work?"

"It's the holidays, darling," Coriolanus brushed it off. "I'm allowed to spend time with my wife."

You smiled, leaning in to press a third lipstick kiss to his cheek. Coriolanus looked satisfied, adjusting your dress over your knees when you said, "I'd love to."

The season wrapped you in all sorts of fuzzy feelings and scents and colors that brightened your world the same way he did. Christmas had always been your favorite, and it only became more so with him.

Coriolanus carefully reached around you to the house phone, dialing the number for service and holding the tightly coiled wire away from you so he could talk to the servant on the other end. You closed your eyes, letting the soothing echo of his voice in his chest draw you to rest for a moment. He'd wake you up when your drink got here, maybe even carry you to bed once it made you sleepier.

Setting the phone back in its red cradle, he lifted a hand to your hair, stroking it gently, warm palm only serving to make you feel safer. As you grew heavier against his chest, you swore you caught him humming under his breath along with the song on the radio. The one about bells in the city.

It twitched your lips up. If he'd been frozen cold before, now he was melting.

Right in the palm of your hand.

[crimsonbubble]

Dom! Miguel O'Hara and Dom! Peter Parker both sucking f! reader's titties and making her cum untouched and making her brain go dumb dumb 🫢🫢

cw. nsfw, afab!reader, lactation kink, praise, nipple play, double fingering (it'll make sense when you read it) *not proofread, just pure horny

[brain went places... also the original idea was that reader was pregnant but it made little to no differenc so i removed that detail-] reader is married to miguel. peter and mj (shes not mentioned in this fic tho-) are readers and miguels honorary spouses. I just love poly fics <33

MINORS DNI!!

the sounds of your slick cunt being fucked open on two sets of fingers fills your ears and the stuffy air of your bedroom.

the three of you use mayday's nap time as a short break to finally satisfy the curdling need for a pleasurable release. Peter pulled off your nipple with a heaving breath, his fingers curling up deliciously against your good spots.

Miguel pulled off soon after, pushing peters palm further against your clit as he also pushed Peter's fingers into your sweet spot. the pressure made you dizzy, your cunt is swollen and sticky, gushing around their fingers as he nipped and suckled around your leaking breasts.

Miguel kissed along your shoulder, his eyes fixated on how much milk you were leaking and how much your pussy is drooling around their fingers.

"there you go, honey. let it all out, make a mess, c'mon." Peter kissed up your throat, nipping your supple skin with his teeth. you threw your head back against the pillows, your hips stuttering up against their hands.

"need a little more, I'm so fucking close-" your voice is shaky as the pleasure leaves you pliant and ditzy. Miguel presses harder into peters hand and your body shudders. "god you're so fucking gorgeous, mi niña bonita."

Miguel lets out a groan muffled against your neck as he forced Peter's hands to curl up against your spot even more. Peter kisses down your chest, taking your sore and leaky nipple into his mouth again. the warmth of his mouth on your skin, the pressure of both of their hands stuffed into your cunt and pressing into every part of you that makes you writhe, sets you off.

you all but hid your face in the crook of Miguel's neck, biting into him as you were launched headfirst into your blissful orgasm. you don't even want to think about the mess you made of yourself, their hands and the bed, but you can tell it was a lot.

[floralcyanide]

ʙᴏʙʙʏ's ɢɪʀʟ

(joe rantz x fem!reader)

Joe has a major crush on you, but you're Bobby's girl. Or so he thinks.

✣ warnings: cursing, mentions of fighting

✣ word count: 1.4k

✣ author’s note: I wish I had more time to work on this, but I've been busy with work, and a friend has been in town so ): I will definitely post more Joe though. hopefully it'll be better quality lol I just wasn't sure of what to write for Joe specifically so this is sort of a brain dump.

masterlist | divider credit: @cafekitsune

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀ���, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴘᴇʀᴍɪssɪᴏɴ ᴛᴏ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ɪɴ ᴀɪ ɢᴇɴᴇʀᴀᴛᴏʀs ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏᴛʜɪɴɢ ᴛᴏ ᴅᴏ ᴡɪᴛʜ ᴀʀᴛɪғɪᴄɪᴀʟ ɪɴᴛᴇʟʟɪɢᴇɴᴄᴇ. ʏᴏᴜ ᴍᴀʏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴜsᴇ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋs ᴛᴏ sᴇʟʟ ғᴏʀ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀ ᴏᴡɴ ᴄʀᴇᴀᴛɪᴏɴ.

Joe Rantz has a major crush on you, but you’re Bobby’s girl- or that’s what he thought. 

The first time Joe sees you is when the team meets Bobby, their new coxswain. You had tagged along as you followed Bobby everywhere he went, as he did you. The two of you were as thick as thieves. It made Joe a little jealous because he thought you were attractive, and Bobby didn’t seem like the type to have a girl on his arm all the time. Don’t get him wrong, Joe respects Bobby. But he seemed more focused on other things rather than dating. Joe watched you that whole day when his attention wasn’t on rowing. As the weeks of practice continued, the more the boys got to know you. Plus, the more they improved, the more you cheered them on. You took pride in getting the boys in the boat to do better than before. And the more you pushed them from the dock, much like Bobby did in his seat, the more they showed out for you, especially Joe. Joe would catch you smiling at him, and he’d smile back but would quickly recover. You’re Bobby’s girl.

After the team’s first win, you’re glued to Bobby’s side at the celebratory party. Joe tries to keep his eyes off you and your stunning outfit but fails most of the night. At one point, you separate from Bobby to converse with Don and Chuck for a little while. Then, you find Joe, who is tucked away in the back of the gymnasium. He quickly looked away from you, not to give himself away.

“Enjoying the party?” you ask, nursing your punch glass.

“Not really my scene,” Joe shrugs.

“Oh,” you nod, “What is your scene, then?”

“The library, usually. Or the boat, of course.”

“I’d say so. You’re great at rowing. I love watching you all.”

Joe blushes at that, “I’m glad.”

Suddenly, Bobby pulls the needle off the record player on stage, forcibly introducing Don as the live music for the night. You and Joe watch, amused, as the boys shove Don across the stage and to the piano bench. Don dug his heels into the stage floor the best he could, to no avail. He nervously looks out at the crowd before beginning to play. 

“Wanna dance?” you ask Joe.

He hesitates for a moment before answering, “Sure.”

The two of you dance along to the music, singing along as well. Joe tries not to let himself get too deep in his head about how close you are to him. You sense this, trying not to get too handsy despite your inner desire to. You leave room between the two of you for it to be casual. When the song ends, you kiss Joe on the cheek and go to find Bobby. Joe’s cheek burns the rest of the night as he reaches up to brush his fingers across it a few times. He wanted to make sure what had happened was real.

Bobby encourages you to tag along with the team to the East Coast. This race was significant for the boys and would throw them off if you weren’t there. Bobby especially- Joe even more. On the train there, you sit with Bobby. You’re mid-conversation about the paper he’s reading when suddenly, Joe lunges at Chuck. You hurry to stand from your seat and pull them apart, following Joe to the other side of the train when he hurries away from the group.

You stand there momentarily as Joe catches his breath, his face beet red.

“What was that all about?”

Joe brushes you off, not making eye contact. You sigh and sit next to him.

“Chuck probably didn’t mean it like that, Joe,” you put a hand on his shoulder, “Even if he did, you know his jokes are shit anyway.”

Joe cracks a smile at that, glancing over at you without moving his head, “Yeah.”

Before you can say anything else, Chuck comes to apologize, and you get up and leave them to it. When you return to your seat, Bobby is smirking knowingly.

“What?” you ask, already knowing what’s gonna come out of his mouth.

“Nothing,” Bobby says, returning his eyes to the paper he was still reading.

“Just say it,” you sigh.

“You guys should kiss already.”

You snort, “I don’t think Joe likes me like that, Bobby.”

“It’s so obvious,” Bobby slams his paper down on his lap, “He’s so obvious, you’re so obvious. Just get together!”

But of course, it’s not that easy. Joe keeps his distance, so you keep yours out of respect for him. 

Securing the win to head to the Olympics meant preparing to go to Berlin. So, training and practice is never-ending. The stress is, too, and it bleeds into you and Bobby’s usually chill dynamic.

Everyone had already left the gymnasium except Joe one day after strenuous practice. He decided to piddle around for a little while. He had nowhere else to be, anyway. Joe sees you and Bobby getting into it by the boat and hangs back to eavesdrop.

“You have got to get your head in the game, Bobby! Stop worrying about everything else and keep your focus on the team.”

“It’s kind of hard when he’s making mistakes because he can’t stop thinking about you. It’s becoming a problem, and I think you need to fix it.”

Joe’s ears perk up at that. He couldn’t possibly be talking about him, right? That’s when you shove Bobby into the water. You wish he’d realize it isn’t that easy to solve.

Bobby resurfaces, pushing his hair from his eyes, “You bitch!” he squeaks in shock.

You start laughing like a maniac at his expression, and Joe is left wondering what is really going on between you and Bobby.

“What’s going on here?” Joe steps out, walks to the dock, and offers Bobby a hand from the water.

“Typical sibling banter,” you wave Joe off.

“Sibling?”

“Yeah,” you say, “I’m Bobby’s adopted sister.”

Joe’s face is one of shock. Bobby is behind the blonde, keeping him from throwing you into the water next. 

“Makes sense now,” Joe chuckles, blocking Bobby, “If I were you, I’d skedaddle.”

You make a run for the gymnasium quickly, Bobby trailing just a little behind. Joe shakes his head, relieved that you aren't Bobby’s girl. From then on, he paid more attention during practice now that he wasn’t plagued with thoughts of you and Bobby together.

The Olympics come quickly, and you’re nearly as nervous as Bobby. Berlin is an interesting sight, considering every surface is covered in Nazi propaganda. You can sense Bobby’s nervousness about it and try your best to ease him. Being someone of Jewish descent in a place like this was not easy. Don isn’t doing too well health-wise when you all arrive and skips out on the opening ceremony. You watch the USA walk with pride from the stands, your eyes on Joe the whole time.

You’re a ball of nerves during the qualifying race, but of course, that goes away when Bobby pulls his magic stunt, and the boys win yet again, making an Olympic record.  You’re beyond proud and can’t wait for how they compete for Gold.

The day comes for the final race, and when Bobby starts off delayed, your heart jumps out of your body. You’re on pins and needles the whole time, urging the boys to push. When the results of who won aren’t immediately apparent, you hold your breath and hope and pray, even, that your boys won. And sure enough, the USA takes the gold. You shoot up from your seat, cheering louder than anyone else around. When you finally are able to meet up with the team, you slam into Bobby full force in a bone-crushing hug.

When you pull away, Joe immediately approaches you and wraps his arms around you. 

“You did it!” you grin. 

“We did it,” Joe smiles, “But we couldn’t have done it without you and Bobby.”

You and Joe stare at each other momentarily, and Joe seems to be deep in thought about something. 

“Just kiss me, Joe,” you blurt, your arms still around his neck.

Joe throws caution to the wind and kisses you in front of the whole world, finally able to breathe with you pressed against him. The boys cheer, and Bobby stands there with his arms crossed, shaking his head with a smile. Finally, you have taken your leap of faith. But you were a stubborn Moch, after all.

[north-noire]

My Michael Afton throughout the years! ft. his own little doodles. I'll try to be brief about the timeline and how my Michael was without saying too much since it'll be explored in the Hidden Hands AU fic's chapters anyway so I won't say all the details. Feel free to read if you guys like! I have a lot to say about him.

1983 (FNAF 4) - Michael was 12 or 13-ish when the Bite happened. Very reckless yet adventurous kid. Didn't really hate Evan (William, as much as he had a soft spot for Evan, still loved Michael all the same), just had really bad friends and influence (his friends were mostly bullies) - and didn't really like that he's being told to parent a little brother he had no idea how to take care of. It didn't help that Evan tended to be a tattle-tail sometimes about the trouble he was getting into. Michael also, deep down, got scared of what the bullies would do to him if he dared stand up for his brother or spoke out against them, so he ends up going along with what they did for his own sake. After the Bite, Michael was still deeply guilty about what he did to Evan, and it haunts him every night, knowing he had no good excuse but irresponsibility for what he did to his brother, because after all, it wasn't like William wasn't giving him enough attention. Michael just knew that he deserved anything unfortunate coming to him, but is genuinely surprised that his father kept telling him he loved him all the same. From this point on, he becomes easily troubled, tends to stay close to his dad. Makes sure he follows the rules and doesn't do trouble. Just wants to do a complete personality shift, and is deeply ashamed of who he was before. 1985 (Charlie's death, Fredbear's Family Diner shuts down) - Michael was 15 here. Over the years, he slowly isolated himself from most of the people in his life since he gets worried about his past scars coming back to haunt him. Mostly a recluse and reserved. He's not handling things well after Charlie's death and a family divorce - not to mention the non-existent social life he had. Just prefers to be left alone, but he's nice if you get to know him. Doesn't really have a good relationship with Elizabeth, but is actually pretty close with William. Feels extremely guilty and hates himself/blames himself for Charlie's death. He gets paranoid easily, as he thinks whoever took Charlie is now after him, but his father tells him to not worry too much about it. 1987 (FNAF 2) - (17) Slowly having a good relationship with Elizabeth. Starts to get into stuff like the supernatural and becomes superstitious to a degree over the years. In public, he's mostly polite and nice, but his actual personality shows through whenever he's with his father or Elizabeth - he's sarcastic, and has quite a dark sense of humor, can be a bit of a rebel, he's just more subtle about it. A bit of an over-thinker - he gets lost in his imagination/head easily. Has a (surprisingly) good relationship with his dad, as he's not really afraid to be himself around him - sometimes gifts him funny things or something he knows his dad would love/would use (he gifts William a rabbit's foot - for good luck, he says). He also helped William build the Fun-Times with blueprints and other technicalities (He's not really aware of the questionable features they had, unfortunately). He couldn't really come with his father and Elizabeth on Circus Baby's Pizza World opening due to things he had to catch up with his home-schooling, he had been skipping classes to work on the Fun-Times, but he really wanted to graduate highschool with a bang, so he's giving everything his all, here. Then Elizabeth suddenly goes missing all of a sudden, and, well... I would say more, but my fic sort of takes a canon-divergence route around FNAF 2/SL-FNAF 1 so that would spoil half of the stuff I've been working/writing about! Reference-sheet wise, I just wanted to show how he progresses from a rebellious, happy and adventurous kid into a more reclused, anxious and soft-spoken adult. Sorry for the long post! I've just been wanting to talk about him for some time now. There's a looot more that I've left out but yeah that's because there will be more in the fic!

[deadpool1763492]

A Very Late Road Trip AU Update

Art by @toonzxy

Hello everyone! Yes, it's been quite a while since @toonzxy, @joyfuladorable, and I have posted anything about this AU, but I promise the story is still in the works! To keep you all in the loop, we decided to make a sort of update post for the progress of the story.

Read to the end for a little teaser!

Okay, so, Book 1 is currently at 51k words. I promise I am writing it as quickly as I possibly can, but I had a pretty busy summer and am currently in my senior year of university, so it's safe to say that I don't have too much free time on my hands at the moment. I know we said we'd try to start posting it by July/August, but as of now, I don't think this book will be finished before the end of the year. Once we finish writing it, we still have to go through the entire process of editing the thing, which is a pretty daunting task. At the rate the story is going, Book 1 will probably end up being at least 100k words long.

In other news, toonzy and joyfuladorable are currently in the works of a comic! You all clearly enjoyed the comics released earlier this year, so they've decided to create a comic that will run alongside the fic but will have its own minor changes to the story. It won't be too different, but it'll be just different enough for it to stay entertaining if you want to read them both.

Most of our time has been dedicated to world building, which, admittedly, is taking a lot more time than we thought it would. It's also been a lot of rewriting previous plot points so that the continuity makes sense overall. All three of us REALLY hate plot holes, so there's been quite a bit of compromising on all fronts. All in all, it's been a lot of work for three people who not only have normal adult lives, but also have other projects on our hands that keep grabbing our attention. This has been our top priority though, I promise.

Okay, that's enough of that. You guys wanted some teasers? Here you go:

via @toonzxy

There you go. Two comic panels, the titles for the first four chapters (mostly) and a very random very mature name of a place in Idaho that one of us stumbled upon. Do with that what you will.

Alright, that's all from me! Hopefully, the next update won't be as long of a wait as this one, but I won't make any promises.

Hasta luego true believers

-DP

[jenn-ieverse]

୨ৎ. 🎧 𝇃𝄄ㅤ ઈㅤֵㅤN I K I ‹ ENHYPEN › ๋ ࣭ ⭑

AFTER HOURS

PAIRING ʬʬ badboy¡niki + femalereader

TROUPE ʬʬ badboy x class president

LIST ʬʬ prologue, 01, 02

WARNINGS ʬʬ (for this chapter) just Niki being a subtle asshole, implied toxic friendship, toxic family (mentions of child endangerment and abuse).

A/N ʬʬ I am glad to see that there are people who are actually liking this fic that I started on a whim also this chapter might feel like a filler but it'll get better I swear ♡ If you want to be a part of the unofficial taglist, comment ♡ Do read the previous chapters before reading this!!

AFTER HOURS

“I heard they brought in new snacks in the cafeteria.” Areum has her arm slinged around yours as you involuntarily made your way through the hallways to get to the cafeteria on the ground floor. With your selective hearing technique at its finest, you were barely paying attention to what she was saying. And then you saw him, making his way through the students scattered chatting in the hallway. There were small things that you were starting to notice, how he had always parted a crowd every time he walked, the looks he would get, judgemental ones from the boys and affectionate ones from the girls.

As Niki walked past you, his stare went back and forth between you and Areum with a sign of discontentment. You turn around to watch his back as he walks away, a scene you had become used to seeing. “What's the deal with him?” Areum seemed to have noticed. “I don't know.” you shrugged it off. “You know the word that's been going around?” Areum leans in the whisper as you both climb down the stairs, occasionally waving at familiar faces. “Apparently Niki has submitted all his due assignments and it's because of you.” if you were drinking or eating something, you would've choked. “What? That's ridiculous.” you look around, your tone unstable.

“I know! A smart girl like you will never intentionally get involved with a guy like him. He is trouble.” you nod, not necessarily in agreement but more so to avoid further arguments. “You know why he was transferred from his school in Japan right?” Yes you knew, it was a stupid rumor that he chopped off the hands of a student who touched his school back, ridiculous. No student is capable of something like that, especially Niki.

The reality was that it's been a week since you've talked to each other, the last time was in the infirmary. Since then he treated you like you didn't exist, except times like just now when he'd pass by you, little too close than necessary, your shoulders brushing each time. On the other hand for you, Niki had somehow become highlighted, in a sense that you would always feel his presence, it was weird really. You'd spot him smoking by the school backyard with the other delinquents or walking into a cyber café with them. Sometimes even sitting by himself with a cigarette in hand outside the convenience store. 

Each time you didn't have it in yourself to approach him. “But really, don't you find it weird that Niki has started to actually show up in class instead of loitering around.” Areum speculates as both of you walk into the cafeteria. It was true that Niki was starting to be present in the classroom, even though he would sit in the corner most chair by the window, mostly sleeping the whole time. “Minjun oppa!” Areum lets go of your arm and runs to her boyfriend, you scoff. Both of them are literally in the same grade (different classrooms) but she calls him oppa because he is a few months older than her. Cringe. 

Do boys really like being called that? “Depends to be honest.” you turn around to see Heesung standing behind you. “Did I say that out loud?” you let out an awkward chuckle to which he smiles, “It's mostly because it gives them a sense of masculinity and superiority.” Heesung says as he buys two cream buns and hands you one. “Thanks.” you smile, peeling the wrapper off the bread as he escorts you back to class. On your way back, you wonder why you never considered Heesung a potential love interest. He's smart, good-looking, self aware (very rare for teenage school boys going through puberty). 

Lost in your thoughts you walk into the class, Heesung following closely behind you. “Damn, my bad.” you turn around to see Heesung looking at Niki who was standing by the class’ entrance door. It seems like Heesung had bumped into him, Niki looks at you staring at him and gets inside the class, walking right past you to get to his seat. The teacher enters the class and you take your place in the middle column of the front row. Mrs. Sung takes the podium, “Alright students, have you decided your partners for the project I discussed last week?” She scans the classroom and all the students nod.

The partners were to be selected for this project for this class which was Culture and Heritage. Every duo has to visit a popular tourist site in Seoul and research its impact on increasing international awareness of Korean culture. “Y/N, make a list of the duos and get it to me.” you nod. “Who are you pairing up with?”she asks, “Kang Areum.” you motion to her, “Here!” She raises her hand from the second row. “Areum? How's that possible?” the teacher frowns. “Choi Minjun from class B submitted your name as his partner.” she announces, making the whole class break into hoots, whistling and teasing a now blushing Areum. 

You should have seen this coming, knowing that the same project was given to class B, there's no way it wouldn't turn out this way. It's your fault this time, you were too naïve. You turn around to look at Areum who mouths ‘sorry’ with an apologetic pout. “It's alright, I'll do it by myself.” you said with a controlled smile earning a sympathetic look from the teacher, “Isn't there anyone who's left to be paired up?” Mrs. Sung looks at the students hopefully. “Ma'am! Niki. He was not present last week.” a goddamn traitor speaks up, you turn around to see the imposter. Choi fucking Yeonjun. You glare at him but catch the sight of Niki sleeping with his head down, you quickly turn infront to look at the now content teacher.

“Very well then!” she clasps her hands together, “Niki!” she calls out and he sits up, “You are paired with Y/N for the project.” she says before going back to teaching where she last left off. You just now Niki is looking at you right now but there is no way in hell you are going to look back right now. “Fuck my life.” you mumble to yourself. 

“I am so sorry Y/N, I had now idea!” As soon as the teacher had left, Areum had walked up to your desk. “A heads up would have been nice, you know.” you said with a sigh. “I swear! I told him I'd do the project with you. I don't know why he told the teacher without asking me first.” her tone had fake perplexity, how could she not know? “I'll buy you your favorite cream buns, you are not mad at me right?” Areum grabs your hands, pouting. You look away feeling awkward in the situation and unintentionally catch a sight of Niki looking at you then turning away scoffing. 

“It's fine really. You don't have to, I am not mad at you so don't worry about it.” you slowly pull your hand out of her grip. “Alright, I gotta go talk to Minjun.” the moment you nod, she's out of the door. You turn around to look at Niki who was again staring with the most displeased look on his face. You motion him towards the door and get up to walk out.

When you enter the rooftop, a soft breeze hits your face, you slowly walk towards the guardrails along the edge and lean over. “What?” you turn around to the very familiar voice. Niki stood with his hands pushed inside his pocket, this hair moving subtly with the soft monsoon breeze. “About the project…” he doesn't let you finish, “Cut me out.” he says, his tone leveled and uninterested. As he turns around to leave, you are face to face with him walking away, a very familiar scene indeed.

୨        ₊       ┈    ⪩⪨      ┈     ₊     ୧

With your school bag slumped over your shoulder you enter the basement unit that is supposed to be ‘home'. Before you shut the rusted door, you throw a glance at the dimly lit alley that you walked through to get to your home, the blinking street light about to be exhausted any minute. Monsoon is going to be difficult this year, you think to yourself closing the door. 

As soon as you enter the small unit, you notice the scattered glass bottles of soju on the floor. You put your bag down and start by picking up the bottles and collecting them in a corner. Most of the items in the unit were packed into boxes, the remaining place mostly empty due to lack of furniture. While you are cleaning the dishes in the rundown sink, the front door opens. You turn around to look, “Mother, you are back.” the woman in her late 40s stumbles into the floor, another bottle of soju in her hand.

You quickly turn off the water and turn to her, “Mother, we are out of groceries. I don't have anything to make dinner with.” You try to take the bottle from her hand. She jerks away and smashes the bottle into the wall, “All you do is ask for money! You ungrateful bitch!” she yells, her words jumbled due to her drunk state. “It's okay mother, I'll just boil some leftover rice for you.” you quickly move to clean up the shattered glass.

“You should have left with your father, god why didn't he take you away with him!” she wails to the ceiling. You let out a sarcastic laugh, “You think I wanna live here like this?” your mothers eyes widen at your response. “It's suffocating, your voice messes up with my head!” you yell back, heat rising to your face. “How long mother? How long are you going to dwell in the past? He left!” you grab the woman by her forearm, giving her a firm shake. 

“He left, and he isn't coming back!” as soon as those words leave your mouth you feel a sharp impact on your cheek. You look at your mother, tears pooling at your eyes, “I didn't have to carry you for nine months. God knows why I did.” her words hurted more than the slap. You search her eyes for some emotion, regret for what she said, shock for what she just did, instead there's just void. Hope feels difficult. You get up, grab your bag and walk out the door wishing to never come back but you know you will.

Hours pass by and you keep mindlessly walking until you are in front of the forest trail. You wonder if you should go back home now but there is not one motivating factor that would drive you to do so. The sun was about to set, an orangish hue spread over the sky reflecting a subtle cast over the tall trees of the forest. Perhaps it's the serenity that pulls you in, you walk into the forest. It's not the first time you've tried to find peace amidst nature so you make your way through the similar trail.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn't notice how deep you were into the forest or how the light of the day had dimmed away. You only notice when a drop of water falls on your head and you look up at the sky. The water droplets start falling faster as you look around frantically, in the haze of your sight you catch a dark wooden cabin and run towards it. “Is this the beginning of a thriller movie?” you whisper to yourself, hesitating to open the door. Shaking away your thoughts you pull the door open.

It all happens within minutes, you are pulled in and pinned against the door, a sharp object pushed against your neck. You don't even get the time to adjust to the darkness when the lights are switched on. “What the fuck?” Niki frowns, backing away. “What the fuck?” you mirror his words, wondering if your prolonged hunger is now leading to hallucinations. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his face twisting in a displeasing scowl. “I could ask you the same.” you counter attack, “You are trespassing.” you accuse him, “Aren't you too?” he questions, “No- Not really.” you shrug with a fake nonchalance.

“I… I am just taking shelter from the rain.” you say as a matter of fact. Looking around you notice a part of the floor is elevated to make a loft which had a mattress enclosed with simple wooden railing. There was a short staircase adjacent to the wall through which the loft bed was accessible. The lower area has a kitchen with dark cabinets, a sink, and a stovetop, along with countertop space extending beneath the loft. It was clear that someone used to live here. “Leave after the rain stops.” Niki says with simple directness before climbing up to the loft and laying down on the mattress.

“This isn't your place, you can't ask me to leave.” you sit down at a chair that was kept against a small table just beside the entrance door. “Then you'll be just as much as trespassing as I am.” he says with his eyes closed. “Whatever.” you mumble with annoyance, “What were you doing with the lights off anyway?” you question, “Uh, sleeping?” he says in a sarcastic tone which makes you roll your eyes. “What are you doing in the woods at night in pouring rain?” he slightly sits up, his upper body pushed up on his elbows, if he were to sit up straight, he would hit his head, that's how close the ceiling was to the loft. 

“Witchcraft.” you replied with a shrug, pulling out your notebook from your bag and going through the assignments for today. You hear him scoff, followed by a rustling indicating that he went back to sleep and so you get to study. Hours go by and you occasionally turn around to look up at the loft to see Niki sleeping with his back facing you. For the first time in years you could study in peace, without the noise of glasses shattering or chain of drunken slurs instead the soft pouring of rain and Niki's occasional shuffles. 

ʬʬ Taglist ʬʬ @d-dilemma @onementally-unstabel-kid @shi-toshi @xienoe @reiminder @starfallia @tya0 thank you lovelies, hope you like it!

[dewdr0pz]

he looks just like a dream ⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

summary: dating headcanons w/ remus lupin

a/n: hello!! this is my most recent fic on this account and my first Marauders fic, so sorry if this is bad!! also, please keep in mind that even though i'm writing a fic about something tied to the Harry Potter universe, this does NOT AT ALL mean i like JK Rowling. i've liked her books since i was a child and have been separating the art from the artist for quite some time when it comes to this. also, i've written Remus in more of a modern situation, so keep that in mind :)

tags: @back-totheoldhouse @daemontargaryennn @o-kye @unbeleevable @mochamuff1n @call-me-frosting-or-not-idc @dangerouslyyour (this is me just guessing who would be interested in this, please let me know if you would like to be removed/added from the taglist!!)

warnings: nicknames with "girl" in them but otherwise gn!reader, mentions of crying, mentions of scars

boyfriend!remus who's memorized how you like your coffee or tea. or if you don't like either, he's memorized your favorite drink and has perfected it every time he makes it. you tell him it's not needed, that you can make drinks yourself, but he says it's worth it just to see the smile on your face.

boyfriend!remus who wouldn't dare tell you to cover up with a dress or outfit you're wearing when you go out ("any guy who tells their girlfriend/partner to cover up because it makes him uncomfortable or insecure instantly just proves he has a fragile ego accompanied by a micropenis.") and he'll only suggest a jacket if he knows it'll be cold outside. if you're happy in what you're wearing, why should he stop you?

boyfriend!remus who reads the books you're reading to have an extra thing to talk to you about and to ensure he understands what you're describing when you rant about how much you either love it or hate it. "yeah I know, I can't believe he did that!" "seriously, the way the writer set up the plot is terrific." "what was the author thinking? the plot makes no sense."

boyfriend!remus who always gives you his clothes. his soft beige knit sweater? of course you can wear it to our date. you need to borrow his beanie because it's cold outside? please do. you want to wear his shirt to bed? just keep it, he thinks it looks 10x better on you.

boyfriend!remus who takes you on all sorts of dates. library dates, lego building dates (which turn into laughing hysterically because one of you doesn't understand the instructions and the other one does understand, but can't find the right piece), cafe dates, aquarium dates, baking/cooking dates, late night walk/drives dates...the list goes on (i will happily elaborate on any of these if asked). he may or may not stalk your pinterest to find out what dates you like

boyfriend!remus who subtly shows you off to the marauders. he's usually a little bit touchy with you in public (a hand on the small of your back or intertwined with yours, his arms around your waist or shoulders, etc.), but he does it more around his friends. it's not any sort of intentional possessive thing (like "grrr my bbg is mine you can't have her raaah"), he just likes people knowing he has a gorgeous partner :)

boyfriend!remus whose room is littered in random trinkets, some of which he'll randomly gift to you. a silver pocket watch he found with intricate details because he thinks you'd like it. a rock or crystal he says looks like your eyes. a flower that he found because he remembered the one time you said "what a pretty flower" when you accompanied him on a walk. a stuffed animal he found at a yard sale because it was your favorite animal. the list goes on.

boyfriend!remus who mainly shows love through acts of service and physical touch. your shoe's untied? he's getting down on his knee to tie it. your books are a bit heavy? he'll carry all of them for you. you're not feeling good? he's doing your homework.

boyfriend!remus whose nicknames for you are mainly "dove/dovey", "baby", and "darling". he calls you "sweet girl/pretty girl" when you're sick, under the weather, or sad, "my love/my dearest" when he knows you're upset, and "sweetheart" when you're in an argument.

boyfriend!remus who would be terrified of showing a lot of skin around you because of his scars mainly because he doesn't want you to be disgusted. he knows deep down that you wouldn't, but it's a deeply-rooted fear for him.

"Remus, your friends have scars. Does that make them ugly or bad people?"

"No."

"Some of the teachers you like have scars. Does that make them ugly or bad people?"

"No."

"I have scars. Does that make me ugly?"

"Of course not, dove."

"So then why do you think scars make you ugly if they don't make anyone else you care about ugly?"

[ghoulsbounty]

Hi hi! I hope you're doing good!!

I have a fic request for all of Walton Goggins characters you write for from your request guidelines as a mini snapshot of each of them. (Length completely up to you)

I was watching The Shield...specifically S5 E3 - Jailbait @ 38:53 👀 where Shane (Walton) is enjoying a sexy time and the way he said "I'm gonna cum" has been swimming in my mind since lmaoo.

How would each of his characters dirty talk and tell their partner they're gonna orgasm (creampie preferably) ? 🥵🥵

Thank you so much for the amazing fics. I'm so happy to read each and every word you've written 🥹

Dirty Talk Headcanon

Summary: Things they say to you when they're about to cum.

Characters: Lee Russell, Wade Felton, Baby Billy Freeman, Boyd Crowder and Cooper Howard/The Ghoul.

Warnings: smut (18+), swearing, creampie, unprotected sex, rough sex, porn without plot, dirty talk, praise kink, cum eating, oral, degradation, control, pet names, multiple orgasms, light dumbification, mirror sex, light nipple play, light sub/dom, possessiveness, cumflation, squirting, slight corruption kink, humiliation, wet & messy, fingering, one small mention of a cheek (face) slap.

Word Count: approx 1k per character

A/N: I enjoyed writing this far too much! I wrote headcanons for dirty talk as a whole (hope that's okay) including orgasms + creampie 🥵Thank you for sending my first headcanon for all the Walton characters I currently write for! I'd love to do more (hint, hint)

Lee Russell - inside or outside the bedroom, he likes to degrade and insult you. will sprinkle in the odd pet name or backhanded praise. his neediness shows when he's about to cum. his favourite thing is the taste of you both together. 

"Didn't I tell you I'd get my hands on you, one way or another?" Lee growled into your ear, his breath hot and ragged. He shoved you further into the rough brick wall of the supply closet, the cold, unforgiving surface scraping painfully against your cheek. Each thrust was forceful, driving you deeper into the corner. Your body responded involuntarily, your cunt clenching tightly around him. The wet, lewd sounds of your bodies colliding echoed through the confined space, mingling with your panting breaths and his guttural moans.

"You slut," he spat, his voice dripping with contempt as he leaned back to gaze at the intimate junction of your bodies. "You're making such a fuckin' mess on my dick. You really have no shame, huh?" His eyes darkened with lust and a twisted sense of satisfaction. Your moans filled the air as his fingers circled your stretched and filled hole, collecting the slick juices there. Without warning, he brought his glistening fingers to your lips and pushed two digits inside, swirling them around your tongue. "Taste good, baby?" he taunted, his gaze never leaving yours, revelling in your submission.

He seized your chin between his wet fingers, pinching slightly as he brought your mouth to his, tasting you deeply. His tongue explored with a hunger that made you shiver. Drawing back, he savoured your essence on his lips, groaning in satisfaction. "Fuckin' delicious, my favourite taste," he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He gave your cheek a light smack, the sound sharp in the confined space, before planting both hands flat against the wall on either side of your head, caging you in. "But it'll be even better with both of us," he promised, his breath warm and heavy on your skin.

He pounded into you with relentless force, hissing into your ear as you tightened around him. "So hungry for me, aren't you?" he growled, his voice a dangerous rumble. His hips snapped with a brutal, unyielding rhythm, each thrust more powerful than the last. A whine escaped his throat when you ground back against him, matching his fast pace with your own desperate movements.

"You can act as angelic as you want out there," he continued, his tone dripping with a mix of lust and dominance, "but with me, you're just begging to be filled, aren't you?" His words sent a shiver down your spine, the truth in them igniting a fire within you. He dropped his hands from the wall and gripped your hips, his fingers digging into your flesh as he drove into you with unwavering intensity.

You felt yourself nearing the edge once more at his unfaltering pace. The combination of his relentless rhythm and the intoxicating dominance in his voice pushed you closer and closer to the brink. You could feel his breath hot against your ear, his teeth grazing your skin as he leaned in closer.

"Admit it," he demanded, his voice a seductive command. "Admit how much you love this, how much you need me."

When you did, he smiled smugly, his lips curling with sadistic satisfaction. One hand snaked down to your front, fingers dancing teasingly along your mound before circling your throbbing clit. You rutted against his thick digit, desperately seeking the friction. His grin widened against the skin of your shoulder, feeling your muscles quake beneath his touch.

"Let me have it," he murmured, the words sounding almost like a request but carrying the weight of direction. As you reached the peak of your climax, your body gushed around his shaft, your orgasm fierce and overwhelming. He continued to fuck you through it, his thrusts unrelenting, driving you deeper into ecstasy.

He pressed a kiss to your shoulder, whispering against your skin, "Always cum so hard for me, don't you? You filthy whore. Fuck, I love it." His words sent another wave of pleasure crashing through you, your body responding to the combination of his rough thrusts, degrading praise and soft kisses.

Your ass clapped loudly against his thighs as he slammed your limp body back onto his cock, his grip now firm on your hip. His hips stuttered, breath catching in his throat before he thrust into you one final time. White spurts of hot cum painted your walls and spilled from you, a primal groan escaping his lips. "F-fuck, that's it, take everything I'm giving you. Look at this greedy fuckin' cunt," he cursed under his breath, mesmerized by the sight of your mixed fluids dripping down his length.

When he had emptied himself completely inside you, he dropped to his knees, spreading your cheeks apart with his fingers. He dived between your messy folds, licking and sucking at the creamy mixture. His moans vibrated against you as he cleaned you thoroughly, his tongue delving into every crevice, savouring the taste of your combined releases.

Your body trembled, the profound sensation of his mouth working you over, driving you wild. You couldn't help but grind against his face, your movements becoming more desperate as he brought you closer to another peak. His fingers dug into your skin, holding you firmly in place as he continued his relentless assault with his tongue.

The pleasure was overwhelming, building rapidly until you tipped over the edge into another intense orgasm. Your body convulsed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as waves of ecstasy crashed through you. He didn't stop, his tongue continuing to lap at you, drawing out every last shudder and twitch of your release.

When you finally came down from the high, your body felt utterly spent and sated. He rose to his feet, his eyes filled with a mix of satisfaction and pride as he looked down at you. "Good girl," he murmured, brushing a tender kiss against your forehead. "Now get out."

Wade Felton - more of a sweet talker than a dirty talker. gives lots of praise, and likes reassurance that he's doing things right. sounds desperate when he cums.

"You feel so good, sweetheart," Wade sighed against your neck, his breath warm and heavy as he pressed tender kisses along your skin. Each thrust was slow and deliberate, his movements drawing out every ounce of pleasure. Your thighs were hooked into the crooks of his arms, giving him leverage to push them higher, allowing him to bury his length even deeper inside you.

Your whimpers filled the room, the sound mingling with the soft slap of skin against skin. Your body trembled beneath him, responding to his careful, intoxicating rhythm. His touch was both gentle and strong, his hands gripping your thighs firmly as he moved within you.

"You're taking me so well," he murmured, his voice a low, sensual growl. "Stretching so pretty on my cock. Do you feel good, baby?" His eyes searched yours, filled with a mix of lust and tenderness, the intensity of his gaze making your heart race.

Every movement was deliberate, each thrust designed to heighten your bliss and deepen the connection between you. The room was filled with the scent of your mingled arousal, the air thick with the heat of your passion. His lips trailed down your neck, leaving a path of fire in their wake, his breath hot against your skin.

"Tell me how good it feels," he whispered, his voice vibrating through you. His eyes never left yours, his expression one of adoration and desire. The rhythm of his hips was steady and unyielding, each thrust sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body.

When you told him, he smiled against you, his lips brushing your ear. "I love hearing that," he said softly, his pace quickening slightly as he felt you tighten around him. "You have no idea how much."

His words sent a shiver down your spine, amplifying the sensations you felt deep within your core. His thrusts became more insistent, each one driving deeper and harder, pushing you closer to the edge. His hands roamed your body, caressing your skin with in a blend of tenderness and desperation.

"I need you," he groaned, his hips snapping with increasing urgency. "I need you so much. You make me feel so damn good."

Your body responded to his every word and touch, your muscles clenching around him as the pressure built. His name escaped your lips in a desperate plea, your hands clutching at his shoulders, pulling him closer.

You keen under his praise, your walls clenching in response, and his eyes brightened at the sensation of you tightening around him. "Fuck, what did I do to deserve you?" he murmured, a grin spreading across his face as he looked down at you with admiration. When you giggled, his eyes widened, and his hips stuttered as he groaned at the feel of you vibrating around him. Both the sound and feel of your laughter seemed to ignite something within him.

His hips picked up their pace, rutting into you with renewed strength. You trembled around him, your moans filling the space, each one spurring him on. Your hands grasped his forearm for purchase, feeling the strength and solidity of his muscles as he drove into you. The rhythm of his thrusts grew more fervent, each movement fuelled by a mix of passion and desire.

"God, you feel amazing," he groaned, his voice rough with need. The way your body responded to him, the way you took him so well, drove him wild. He leaned down, capturing your lips in a heated kiss, his tongue exploring your mouth with the same vigor as his hips moved against yours.

Your moans were muffled by the kiss, your body arching into his as he continued to thrust into you with relentless precision. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing through you, building toward an inevitable crescendo. The connection between you was electric, each touch and sound amplifying the other's desire.

His forearm, solid and reassuring, flexed under your grasp, the muscles taut as he pressed your thigh almost flat to the mattress. His other hand gripped the headboard above you, knuckles white with the force of his hold. "You're incredible," he breathed against your lips, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "I can't get enough of you."

"Come for me, darlin'," he begged, his voice a low growl, pace becoming almost frantic. "I need to feel you."

The urgency in his tone, combined with the overwhelming sensations coursing through you, pushed you to the brink. With a final, powerful thrust, you came undone around him, your body convulsing and leaving you breathless. His eyes dropped to your hungry cunt as you creamed around him. The sight of the thick white ring of your release coating his shaft had him pulsing inside you, the visual driving him to the brink. His breath hitched, and his hips stuttered as he struggled to maintain his rhythm.

"Shit, I'm..." he groaned, his voice breaking with the effort. His thrusts became erratic, each one sending shockwaves through your body. The sensation of your walls milking him was too much, and with a final, powerful thrust, he buried himself deep inside you with a force that made you cry out. "I'm cumming," he panted desperately. "I'm cumming, baby, oh fuck."

Hot spurts of thick cum filled you, his body shuddering with each release. He held you close, his forehead pressed against yours as he rode out the waves of pleasure. The passion of the moment left both of you breathless and his hands gently caressed your skin, grounding both of you as the aftershocks of your climax slowly faded away.

Baby Billy - heavily into praise and encouragement, but with a filthy mouth. the star of his own show - tell him how he makes you feel and pander to that ego. doesn't like to waste a drop.

"That's it, you ride that dick now," he said, his arms stretched along the back of the couch, eyes locked on you as you bounced above him. Your fingers dug into the shoulders of his expensive suit, desperate for purchase as your pace became increasingly sloppy. The familiar surge of heat spread through your body, signalling the approach of your climax.

Your movements became frantic, grinding down on the thick length that filled you completely. The feeling was overwhelming, and you cried out his name, your voice a sweet blend of desperation and ecstasy. As the waves of your orgasm rolled through you, you threw your head back, lost in the intensity of the moment. His hands gripped your hips, helping you ride out the last tremors of your release, his gaze filled with pride and lust as he watched you fall apart above him.

A sly grin tugged at his lips, at the feel of your cunt trying to milk him. "That's my girl," he murmured, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction as he watched you soak his lap. "Baby Billy made you feel good on his ol' dick, huh? Go on, you can tell me."

You nodded, eyes glazed and mouth agape as you dropped into the crook of his shoulder. He kissed along your jawline, sending shivers down your spine as your cunt spasmed around him. "That's what I thought, always making you feel good," he murmured, his voice filled with gratification. He secured your arms around his neck, his grip on the flesh of your hips tightening. "Hold on now," he instructed, his tone low and commanding.

With a firm grip, he began to move again, his thrusts deep and deliberate, each one making you gasp as he fucked up into you. You whined against him, your body trembling under his control. He lifted you off his length only to slam you back down to meet him at a relentless pace, his surprising strength and rhythm driving you wild.

Your cries grew louder when he encased one of your nipples in his mouth, his hot tongue flicking over the sensitive bud before sucking hard. The feeling was electric, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. Your fingers tangled in his grey strands, pulling slightly as you sought any anchor in the storm of sensation. He didn't scold you for messing up his perfect style, too engrossed in the act of devouring you with his mouth and body.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared bliss: his low grunts, your high-pitched moans, the wet slap of your bodies coming together. Each thrust, each suck, each flick of his tongue brought you closer to the edge, your body arching and straining against him as you spiralled toward another orgasm.

His mouth left your nipple with a pop, and he drew you back to look at him with a grin. "You giving me another one? Baby Billy got you all worked up, huh?" He teased, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and desire.

His hands roamed your body, caressing and squeezing as he admired the way you trembled above him. The connection between you was electric, every touch and glance charged with passion. He resumed his deep, powerful thrusts, each one hitting just the right spot to send a thrill coursing through you.

"Making me feel good, now," he murmured, his voice a low, seductive growl. "Ain't nothin' better than this right here." His words spurred you on, driving you to move faster, to ride him harder. You could feel the tension building again, a tight coil of pleasure ready to snap.

"Come on, angel, I know you've got it in you," he urged, his hands gripping your hips to help guide your movements. The combination of his thrusts and his words pushed you over the edge, and with a cry of ecstasy, you came again, your body clenching and spasming around him.

"That's it," he praised, his voice a low growl as his hips began to stutter. "Oh, here it is," he said, chest heaving as he threw his head back. "I'm cumming, angel, here I cum," he cried, his release following yours as he buried himself deep inside you. He groaned with satisfaction, the sound primal and raw, as he painted your walls with ropes of hot white cum.

The ferocity of his climax made his entire body tense, his grip on your hips tightening as he emptied himself inside you. Each pulse of his release sent shivers down his spine as he stayed buried deep within you, savouring the feeling of your bodies entwined and the warmth spreading between you.

"That's it, sweet girl," he cooed into your ear, his voice shifting from the earlier growl to a tender murmur. The contrast made your heart flutter, the softness of his tone wrapping around you like a warm embrace. You collapsed against him, your body spent and trembling, every muscle relaxed in the aftermath of your intense release.

He pushed you back gently, pulling out with a hiss. "Let Baby Billy see it now," he instructed, and you whined as your cunt gaped, clenching around nothing. His cum leaked out of you, dripping down your thigh and making a mess of his dick. He watched intently, his eyes dark with satisfaction.

Taking two fingers, he ran them up your thigh, collecting the dripping cum before stuffing them back into your cunt to the hilt. "There you go, angel," he murmured, his voice thick with lust as he watched your body react to his touch. His fingers moved inside you with a practiced rhythm, ensuring none of his cum was wasted. "Don't waste a precious drop."

Your body trembled, overwhelmed by the sensation of his fingers filling you again. The rawness of his actions left you breathless. He looked up at you, his grin wide. "That's my good girl," he praised, his other hand caressing your thigh. "You take it all so well."

Boyd Crowder - praise, praise, praise! worships the ground you walk on. possessive (will take out the entirety of harlan county for you.) likes to watch you both together.

"Open your eyes," Boyd whispered, his breath hot on your ear. "I want you to see yourself. Just about the best damn thing I ever laid my eyes on," he cooed, his fingers gripping your thighs harder to urge you. When your eyes fluttered open, your breath caught in your throat.

You saw yourself, spread open and exposed on his lap, your back pressed against his chest as his hands held you open and his cock stuffed you full. The chair he sat on creaked under your combined weight as he adjusted himself, slipping further into you until his balls were pressed snugly against your ass. The sight was intoxicating, your bodies joined so intimately, every inch of him buried inside you.

Your gaze caught his over your shoulder in the rustic, floor-length mirror, and he gave a wicked grin. The reflection showed everything—the way his strong, tattooed arms enveloped you, the way your bodies moved together. His eyes were dark with desire, and the possessive gleam in them made your pulse quicken.

"Look how perfect you are," he murmured, his voice a deep rumble that vibrated through to your core. His hands shifted, one moving to play with your clit while the other kept a firm hold on your thigh, keeping you spread open. The combination of his touch and the sight of your intertwined bodies in the mirror sent waves of desire crashing over you.

"Feel that?" he asked, his tone both teasing and reverent as he pressed deeper, eliciting a moan from you. "That's all me, filling you up, making you mine." His hips began to move again, the rhythm slow and deliberate, each thrust designed to draw out your pleasure and make you feel every inch of him.

The sounds of your shared delight, the creaking of the chair, and the wet, rhythmic slaps of your bodies echoed in the room, creating a symphony of passion. As your eyes met his in the mirror once more, you saw the reflection of two people completely lost in each other, bound by the rawness of the moment.

You placed one hand over his, guiding his movements on your clit, while the other snaked around his neck, fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. He groaned, turning his head to press a hot kiss just below your ear. "Do you like seeing us, baby? Watching yourself come undone on my cock?" He whispered, his voice deep and husky. "Fuck, I love it," he groaned, punctuating each word with a thrust of his hips.

The sensation of his fingers on your clit, combined with the sight of your bodies in the mirror, sent heat burning through you. Your grip tightened in his hair, pulling him closer as his lips trailed along your neck. His breath was hot and ragged against your skin, each thrust driving you both closer to the edge.

"You look so perfect like this," he murmured against your skin, his voice laced with both admiration and need. "Damn, I love being inside of you." His hips moved with a deliberate rhythm, each thrust deep and powerful, making you feel every inch of him. The chair creaked beneath you, adding to the symphony of sounds that filled the room.

Your bodies moved together in perfect harmony, your bliss heightened by the mirror's reflection. His eyes never left yours, the connection between you deepening with every shared glance and touch. "I want you to remember this," he said, his voice a mix of command and desire. "Remember how good we are together. Don't you forget it."

As your climax approached, the pressure of his fingers on your clit and the relentless thrusts of his hips became almost too much to bear. Your breath hitched, your body trembling with the anticipation of release. "Cum for me, baby," he urged, his voice a growl in your ear. "Watch yourself cum all over me." With a final, powerful thrust, he sent you spiralling over the edge. Your body convulsed in his arms, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as watched yourself fall apart around him.

The feel of you clenching down on him had Boyd panting, and seconds later he was whimpering against your neck. "Damn, I'm close," he said, his voice breaking with desperation as he rutted up into you. The raw need in his voice made your heart race. "You make me feel so good, baby," he continued, his words a mix of admiration and urgency.

Eyes still fixed on the mirror, your head fell back against his shoulder, your body going limp as you surrendered completely to him. Both his hands now gripped your thighs with bruising ferocity, holding you in place as he drove into you with a relentless rhythm. Each thrust was accompanied by the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wet, lewd noises filling the room and burning your cheeks.

"Fuck," he groaned, the word drawn out and guttural. His breath was hot against your ear, his chest heaving with effort. "Damn, baby," he cried, his voice strained and desperate. The feel of his cock swelling inside you, the frantic pace of his hips, and the way his entire body seemed to shudder with impending release all combined to push you further into bliss.

He buried himself deep inside you with a final, powerful thrust, his body convulsing as he came. "Fuck, I'm cumming," he cried out, his voice breaking. You felt the hot spurts of his release filling you, mixing with your own arousal.

As he rode out his orgasm, his hands moved to caress your body, fingers tracing gentle patterns on your skin. He held you close, his forehead resting against the side of your head, both of you trembling from the intensity of the experience. Your eyes met in the mirror, both of you sharing a satisfied smile as he remained buried inside your swollen cunt, keeping his seed there.

The connection between you was palpable, a silent understanding passing between you as you basked in the afterglow. The mirror reflected your entwined bodies, the evidence of your shared passion glistening on your skin. He nuzzled into your neck, pressing soft kisses there, his breath warm and comforting.

"Look at us," he murmured, his voice soft and full of wonder. "So perfect together." His fingers continued to trace lazy patterns along your hips and thighs, each touch grounding you further in the moment.

Cooper Howard/The Ghoul - very possessive. teasing/light degradation. praises you for a job well done. his clothes stay on. loves to fill you until he's spilling out.

"You want another one?" he laughed teasingly, looking down at your fucked-out eyes as you trembled beneath him. "I don't think you have it in you, but you're so desperate," he taunted, his own eyes filled with a mixture of amusement and raw desire.

Cooper's gaze trailed to your cunt where he continued to fuck his load into you, white cum drooling from you as he filled you again and again. The sight of his cum spilling out and mixing with your own juices only seemed to spur him on. He revelled in the intense pleasure of filling you to the brim, knowing that he was overwhelming your senses, his cock and his load too much for you to contain. His thrusts remained deep and relentless, each one pushing more of his seed inside you.

"You’re so greedy for it, aren’t you?" he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Taking everything I give you." His words shot through to your core, your body trembling and on the edge once more despite your exhaustion. His hands gripped your hips painfully, holding you in place as he drove into you with unwavering ferocity.

His teasing laughter filled the shelter. "Look at you," he said, awe and possession in his voice. "You're a mess. You should be ashamed, letting a man like me do this to you." As he continued to move inside you, the heat built again, your body responding eagerly to his every touch and thrust, ready to give him yet another orgasm.

The lewd sounds of your sloppy pussy echoed through the room as he pounded into you, his grunts and moans joining in as you contracted around him. His hand reached down to your clit, pressing a gloved finger hard against the swollen bud. The rough texture sent shockwaves of ecstasy through you.

Your eyes widened, hips rutting against his own in desperate response. The harsh fabric of his clothed body rubbed against your naked skin, the friction intensifying the heat between you. The sensation was a perfect mix of pleasure and pain, pushing you over the edge as your orgasm tore through you.

Your body convulsed, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as ecstasy overtook you. The spasms of your cunt squeezing around his dick made him groan loudly, his thrusts becoming even more erratic as he chased his own release. He didn't let up on your clit, the relentless pressure driving you wild.

"Atta girl," he cooed, his voice a gravelly whisper. "Let it all out." Your cries filled the air, your body arching against him as waves of satisfaction crashed over you and he watched as your pussy gaped and gushed around him once more. A primal look flickered in his eyes, and a crooked smile spread across his handsome face as he buried himself deeper inside you. "Gonna keep you full," he promised, his voice a low, possessive growl.

Cooper's thrusts became slow and deliberate, each movement sending jolts of pleasure through your overstimulated body. His hand pressed against your lower abdomen, feeling the slight bulge where he was buried deep inside you. "You take me so well," he murmured, pride and desire burning in his eyes. "A real vision," he sighed, pushing further into you.

He wanted to leave no doubt that you belonged to him, that he could push you to the brink and bring you back again and again. The feeling of being so completely filled, so utterly claimed, sent waves of ecstasy through you.

"Doing good, sweetheart," he said, his voice softening slightly as he leaned in to kiss you. The contrast between his tender words and his rough actions made the moment even more intoxicating. "Gonna keep you full and satisfied," he whispered against your lips, his breath mingling with yours as he worked himself towards his release.

His hand tightened on your hips, ensuring you took every inch of him as he continued to thrust with unrelenting fervour. Your tits bounced with each movement, your mouth hanging open in sheer ecstasy. The sight of your body responding to him, of your cunt clenching and dripping around his dick, drove him to push harder, deeper.

"You gonna take it?" he panted, his thrusts becoming desperate. You nodded, whimpering as you bit down on your lip. "Fuck, take it. Take my cum," he moaned, his voice thick with lust.

His cock pulsed inside you, releasing hot spurts against your walls. The sensation was staggering, the warmth spreading through you as it overflowed, mixing with his previous load and your juices. You felt overstimulated and full, and you watched Cooper as he gazed at the slight bloat of your stomach, his eyes filled with primal satisfaction at the sight of you so thoroughly filled with his cock and seed.

His hand moved to rest on your belly, gently pressing down as if to emphasize the fullness. "Look at you," he murmured, his voice a heady blend of awe and possessiveness. "So full of me."

The combined fluids soaked both of you as they trickled out, creating a slick, messy connection between you. His hands caressed your hips, fingers trailing along your skin, smearing the wetness as he admired the aftermath of you together.

He steadied himself above you, his breaths ragged and uneven. The heat of his body pressed against yours, a thin layer of sweat glistening over your skin. His eyes remained locked on yours, filled with pride.

"Good girl," he murmured, his voice softening as he leaned down to kiss you gently. "Completely mine." His hands roamed your body, soothing and comforting as you both came down from the high. 

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

𝐑𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐚𝐠𝐞 [Part 1: Goldrush]

There's always a certain sense of childish sadness in a man consumed by rage and anger- because in a man like him, those feelings are simply born from the pain of the past, and the crushing fear of what the future might yet make him face.

Tags/Warnings: Mafia!Tiger!Jungkook, Deer!Reader, mentioned abuse, mentions of underground fights, graphic descriptions of violence, a gun oh no, Jungkook in a suit, it's pretty dark read at your own risk, there is like a hint of fluff?, just let me cook I promise it'll be worth it, do not read this if you're easily triggered/upset by dark and violent themes please thank you

Length: 6.5k Words (oh boy look at the size of that thing)

There is no taglist for this fic.

A/N: Haha remember when I said it'll be 3k words per chapter? well I lied oops

-> Masterlist

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Jungkook met you after his first fight for the Golden House.

Humming a tune you'd almost danced through the kitchen- though you were mostly focused on helping the other maids and cooks prepare the food for the higher up's currently invited for dinner at the estate. He remembers he'd scared you- probably due to his rather beat up face, none of it having been treated most of the time, just so he could scar up and look tough on the outside.

It had worked- somewhat. Though his hybrid genes had made it rather difficult to hurt him enough to permanently scar- all of them eventually fading, needing to be remade, night after night.

The look of fear in your eyes had been something he got used to- or maybe he simply didn't notice it after a while, maybe it became normal to see you in a constant state of fight or flight. He never saw you rest, only saw you work- but when you were away from the Boss and only amongst yourself or him, you had a certain sense of lightness to yourself. Like a feather, as cliché as it sounds.

If it wasn't for your hybrid features, Jungkook would've sworn you were more of a bird than a deer- put in a cage, fear used against yourself to lock you in and to the Golden House forever. Just like he himself was shackled up, bought and owned by the highest man just so he could have some amusement watching the tiger hybrid fight in the ring.

He was a toy to him. Just like you. Just like any other hybrid at the Golden House.

Sometimes, when no one was paying much attention, you'd visit Jungkook in his room. You'd clean his wounds, and most of all- you'd talk to him like an equal. You'd tell him of dreams you had at night, of thoughts you'd come up with during your chores, or with fantasies you had about the world outside the walls of the estate. And he'd listen to all of it, quietly, your voice soothing his wounds more than any medication ever could.

Maybe your fear towards him didn't just become normal to him, so he didn't notice it. Maybe it disappeared, slowly, and that's why it left your gaze. You didn't fear him. Didn't see him as an enemy. And maybe that's what really changed.

It was winter when he found out about the consequences to your actions.

He'd spotted you outside in the snow, white flakes falling steadily onto your head and clothes, feet naked and red from the cold. It was punishment- for caring for him, doing something you weren't told to. You'd hidden it, kept it a secret so he probably wouldn't feel bad- but the true nature of it was more selfish than that. "I don't want you to stop talking to me." You'd said when he'd confronted you about it. "I don't want you to ignore me like everyone else does." You'd cried. He hadn't even spoken much to you at all, and yet the few words he'd gifted to you were more than you had ever received before.

And so he had to compromise, and instead tried harder not to get injured in the ring, so no one would notice when you'd help him heal.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

He knows that you saw the signs when his mind had started to slip. When his anger grew, and his sanity took a backseat inside his head.

Especially when the Head of the estate had decided it would be a delight to make you watch Jungkook fighting in the ring every time he had to as a way of trying to make you stop your foolish actions of helping the fighting hybrid- to show you how cruel and brutal the otherwise quiet and reserved tiger could really be, as he'd dislocate limbs and break bones night after night with a certain sense of bloodthirst in his gaze, eyes no longer kind but cold. How he'd bite and scratch with pure intent to hurt and end the fight in his favor, no matter the outcome for his opponent.

Jungkook knows that your view on him changed back then, even if you did not tell him that. He could feel it, in the way your hands would begin to tremble before touching him, or how you'd suddenly no longer reach out to him.

Gone was your attachment to him, murdered was any emotional connection you'd been creating.

At the end of the day, you had been nothing but a puppet to the head of the Golden House, nothing but a doll fed with orders because no matter what, you'd do it if it meant you'd survive another day. You would've probably even killed him if it had been asked of you- even though he wouldn't have let you.

You wouldn't have stood a chance against him.

The kiss you'd shared had been more than questionable, and he does feel bad about the circumstances back then.

He knew that it could've gotten you killed if anybody had ever caught you both, and he also knows that if it wasn't for his own initiative, you would've never made that step either. But he loved you, he loved you so much it hurt, and he hated being hurt because it was a constant for him he could never escape.

Everything he did, every situation he found himself in, every waking moment had been nothing but pain in one way or another. Nothing could soothe that ache in his body, could somehow make that burn in his bones feel a little lighter.

Nothing but your touch.

You cared. Even though he knew that you feared him, you still cared. And he hated it.

Why didn't you push him away, make him angry at you so he could have a solid reason to just get rid of you? The only reason he continued to endure wasn't so he could survive- he never gave a fuck about survival, none at all. But the heartbreak in your eyes, the fact that you'd be alone, the memory of you crying so bitterly about being ignored and put aside was continuously making him pull himself back up whenever knocked down, to win the fight and come back to the Golden House-

where you'd wait for him, soft hands on his skin relieving his rage just for a moment. Giving him a second to breathe. Where you'd kiss his wounds, and lift all the weight off of him for just a second.

And then you betrayed him.

"Thats a train ticket! I got it from Chun, she said it'll take you to busan." You'd told him, panic in your eyes as you'd pushed the slightly torn canvas bag filled with clothes and other necessities further into his arms. "After your fight tonight, there will be a dog hybrid named Min Yoongi in the locker room. He'll take you to the station.!" You said.

"And you?" He asks, dreading the answer he'd inevitably get.

"I'll be your insurance." You'd smiled.

"He'll take all his anger out on you-" He'd worried, and you'd nodded, and never looked so brave.

"I know." You'd told him. "But you'll live- and that's enough for me."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Flake has been replaced with Dohyun. The people aren't very happy with it, but he'll make them accept the change soon enough." Namjoon offers, setting some papers down in front of Jungkook, who looks like he might be asleep- face resting on his hand, arm perched up with his elbow on the armrest of his chair.

"Hm, they're never happy when a hybrid's on top." He mumbles lowly, eyes not opening. "I assume Flake didn't go… voluntarily." He asks.

"No." Namjoon responds. "Was executed on his balcony."

"Classy. I like it." Jungkook chuckles, eyes slowly opening as he takes in a deep breath. "Hm, I'm hungry-" He starts, looking at his watch on his wrist. "-let's hope Hideo doesn't piss me off tonight, or I might just have to swap him too." He growls, slowly getting up to prepare for the dinner he has to attend with the human gangleader.

Jungkook had the chance to get out. He's been given the chance after all, by the only person he's ever really considered he 'loved'- and yet his thirst for blood wouldn't let him go. The need for revenge was way too big inside him to be just satisfied with living his own life away from his past- but he couldn't.

They took everything he ever had away from him. They took you away from him. And he'd never forgive that.

So he began to convince Yoongi to join him in his plans, took the first few pillars out to make the fundamentals of the underground gang life crumble. He shook up the entire game, and began to 'swap out' human leaders with hybrids from his own rows- a gang he'd build up himself, consisting of almost exclusively hybrids of all kinds. He knows he's not doing any good with the way he's doing things- but he doesn't care.

If he can't change the game, he'll become the best player instead.

And currently, he's definitely on the road to take the seat as the king.

"Jungkook!" The rather eccentric man stands up, opens his arms for the hybrid who does not attempt to return the gesture or accept the invitation at all. "My favorite big cat, come take a seat!" He laughs it off, sits down with Jungkook, who keeps his face stoic and expressionless. "Can we have some chairs here please? I'd hate for your friends to stay standing while we eat-" He tries, but Jungkook shakes his head.

"No need. I'd rather have them pay at attention." Jungkook responds, and Hideo laughs in front of him.

"Always so on edge. Never change my boy!" He jokes, before the food is being placed on the table. "So. I heard you let Flake tumble down his balcony like a dramatic movie-climax." He chuckles, cutting into his steak. Jungkook nods, begins to eat as well, but keeps his eyes on the man in front of him. "Quite the spectacle. Made the higher up's a little nervous." He tells him.

"Good." Jungkook simply answers, and Hideo laughs.

Hideo is one of the only few human leaders left in his original spot- mainly because the man is rather interested in surviving, and keeping his head in one piece. He's smart, albeit a little bit unhinged- sometimes even causing Jungkook himself to feel uneasy around the man. He's a wildcard, and does what he wants whenever he wants, only follows rules if they're in his favor.

So Jungkook is wary of him, and doesn't trust that man as far as the bridge of his own nose.

"They say his minions aren't too happy with your new choice." The man mumbles, shrugging his shoulders however, clearly unbothered. "But they just don't like the change. What you should worry about however, is the money you're loosing." He says, making Jungkook's eyes sharpen.

"What money are you talking about?" He asks, finishing up his plate.

"The money you're not aware of." Hideo chuckles. "Flake had two daughters, and rumor has it they both emptied their bank accounts a few days before you struck and pushed Rapunzel down her tower." The man informs him, licking his knife while looking at Jungkook, who tries hard to make nothing visible on his face. He knows exactly what the man is trying to tell him.

Somehow, those daughters knew Jungkook would attack. Which in turns, means someone told them.

Which hints at a snitch.

"Sakata is currently finding them as we speak, so no worries about that." Hideo suggests, finishing his meal as he wipes his mouth with a napkin. "The only thing you should do, would be to.. sniff out who needs to go, so to speak." He says, grinning at Yoongi, who pins his ears back in irritation at the joke. Jungkook leans back, tilts his head once, before he stands up.

"I want to know the whereabouts of those two daughters the moment you have them." Jungkook says dryly. "Do not kill them. I want to.. talk to them personally." He orders, and Hideo laughs, nodding with his hands clapping once.

"Of course! Oh and-" The human man grins, and it tells Jungkook that the man has something to say that will definitely cause problems. "-I heard my dear Chisoo left you a present at your estate?" He says, catching Jungkook off guard for a second, as the tiger hybrid looks to his side towards Namjoon, who shares an equally confused gaze. "Oh, you've not seen it yet? Hm, it does explain his good mood, doesn't it?" Hideo asks one of his guards who doesn't react. "Ah, I really liked that guy. Don't be too harsh on the boy, yeah? He doesn't know how to.. read a room, you know? His jokes can be terrible." He laughs.

Jungkook slowly leaves, but as soon as he sits inside the back of his car, he's growling out orders. "Call Chisoo right now." He demands Namjoon, who already dials the number. "If he doesn't answer we'll pay him a visit right now." He says, waiting for the speaker system of his car to reveal the voice of the man.

"Jungkook! What's up my guy?" The young voice chimes out.

"Cut the shit. What did you do?" Jungkook demands, and Chisoo just laughs on the other end.

"Oh you've not seen it yet? I thought you'd like it!" He says, clearly eating. "Saw the poor thing and remembered something I heard from a former guard of the Golden House." He chuckles, and Jungkook's blood runs cold. "Look man, I have some urgent business right now. If you don't want it, you can just get rid of it- I won't judge." He laughs, before he hangs up the phone.

"Tell Seokjin to check the premises before we drive back." Yoongi informs him from the driver's seat, instructing Namjoon who calls the man right away.

"Seokjin." Jungkook says as the phone is picked up. "What the fuck did Chisoo bring?" He demands to know, and grows increasingly uneasy when the answer isn't what he hoped he'd get.

"I.. you should just not worry about it. It was probably meant to just anger you." He tells the tiger hybrid, not specifying things. "I've already dealt with.. it, just-"

"That's not your decision to make." Jungkook growls. "I'm on my way back right now, and I want whatever it is in my office before I'm back at the estate. Am I making myself clear?" He demands.

"..yes." Seokjin simply complies, though with great hesitation.

Because he knows, the moment Jungkook knows what it is, there will be nothing capable of calming Jungkook down.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

One, two, three.

You're counting each tick of the clock standing on the table in the office, waiting for something to happen. That's all you've been instructed to do- the man earlier having escorted you here, and just told you to 'wait', and nothing else. So you do just that, naked feet on the soft carpet, intricate details on the fabric almost hypnotizing you. It's already a lot warmer in here than in your room at the Golden House- and the man who brought you here had given you his jacket too, probably because he thought you were shaking from the cold.

Which you did- but you also tend to shiver from fear, mostly due to your hybrid instincts.

Just.. in here, you don't really feel scared. It smells familiar in here, like something you forgot existed- almost like a childhood memory, far away but reawakened right in this moment. It soothes your worries and slows down your thoughts tremendously.

ninety-four, ninety-five, ninety-six.

You can hear faint noises now, ears turning towards the door behind you, though your body otherwise doesn't move. you don't dare to, since the handcuffs around your wrists might make a noise, and no one told you if you were allowed to move anyways. So you just stay still, even when you can hear someone argue in front of the door, angrily, upset. The voice is familiar, again- but you don't recall a face to it whatsoever.

One hundred.

The door opens, people walk in. Your face stays lowered, you don't even dare to swallow the saliva in your mouth. "Why the fuck did he send me a hybrid?!" Someone growls, and it makes your throat clog up, angry tone causing your muscles to tremble once more. "Fuck. And why is she not-" He starts, before he stops right next to you, frozen in place almost like you are- though due to different reasons.

"Jungkook-" Someone sighs, when Jungkook next to you talks again, but in a truly bone-chilling tone.

It's so low, and steady, that it makes everyone wordlessly follow the command.

"Out." He says. "Everyone, out, right fucking now." He growls, and both Namjoon and Yoongi leave, though the dog hybrid hesitates a little- shocked as well by the sight of you, most likely.

Once the door closes, it quiets down. All you can really hear is the way the man called Jungkook walks around, paces for a good while, clearly in distress. You're not sure why you're causing him to be like this- maybe he doesn't know if he wants to kill you or not. Or he's fighting primal urges to hunt you down as a predator hybrid. It could be a lot of things.

You lost track of the ticking. You can't hear it properly with Jungkook moving around like that.

"Don't- stop doing that.!" He suddenly says, and you notice yourself panicking. What are you doing right now? You're not moving, you're not looking at him, and neither have you said anything- though that's out of the question anyways. What are you doing that you need to stop? You're barely even breathing- maybe that's it? It's an odd request, and you doubt you can properly follow it for long, but if he wants you to do that-

"Stop being scared!" He suddenly roars at you, hands on your shoulders making you whimper out of pure instinct, as you watch his chest rise and fall rapidly. "Don't-.. I'm not.." He stammers, before he takes a deep breath, seems to control himself as his hands leave your shoulders, instead push themselves into the pockets of his slacks. "Look at me." He demands, and you do just that.

His hair is fairly long, growing over his ears, curly and a deep black. There's two round tiger ears between his wild hair, one of them a little torn, but the scar seems long healed. His eyes are piercing, watching you intently as if he's searching for something with desperation, jawline sharp but his face has a certain roundness to it.

It doesn't distract you from the danger he radiates, tail swaying impatiently behind him. He's a tiger, in every way- large shoulders and powerful muscles unable to be hidden even underneath the suit he wears.

But there's a certain shift in his posture and most of all his gaze as he seems to realize something about you.

"Who am I." He asks, or more so orders you to answer. You begin to panic once more. How are you supposed to answer that? "Who. Am. I." He repeats slower, and you open your mouth to say something-

though no coherent word leaves your lips, only barely a noise that even sounds like it hurts, and it makes your eyes sting.

Jungkook seems to grow angry again. Is he upset that you can't answer? Will he kill you now, because you're unable to give him a proper response?

"Do-" He looks absolutely devastated, and for some reason, it makes you sad. "Do you know who I am?" he quietly asks, bracing himself for the answer he might receive.

Though nothing could prepare him for the pain he feels in his entire body when you quietly shake your head, confirming his worst fears.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

You've not only forgotten him- but everything else too, it seems like, according to Namjoon, who'd been trying to sort you out since Jungkook left you in his office, unable to really have you close like that any longer. His friend had tried it all, and had also let someone with medical knowledge have a look at you- which also gave an explanation about why you just won't talk.

You can't. It's not clear what exactly must've happened, but there's a definite injury there that won't let you make any sound without pain.

It's now pretty obvious to him that you must've gotten caught giving him a way out- and you probably paid the consequences for it too. Whatever happened caused you to forget most of your past, and no one can be sure if it's permanent, or just temporary. What is clear however is that you're completely hollow. There's no trace of a personality in anything you do, no personal preferences towards anything, no interest, not even very noticeable emotions.

It's not surprising to him- and maybe that's what pains him the most.

"So if you don't tell her what to do, she will just do nothing at all?" Jungkook asks as he looks through some documents to distract himself. The more he thinks about you, the darker the possible punishments that you most likely received become in his head- mind forcing scene after scene of you into his brain.

"Won't even sleep if no one tells her to. She was awake the whole night because no one told her when to sleep I guess." Namjoon says, arms crossed. "It's hard to tell what she's thinking considering she doesn't talk." Namjoon sighs defeated, while Jungkook stares at the papers for a moment.

You used to talk a lot, back when he was still used for underground fighting, and you were nothing but a maid for the gangleader. He remembers you humming random songs while dressing his wounds- something you told him was to mostly distract yourself from not crying in front of him.

"I'll fight better next time." He'd told you while you carefully placed the large plaster onto one of the scratches that's still bleeding. "So you won't have to cry."

"I want every bit of info as to where she came from before Chisoo got his hands on her." He tells Yoongi who's been sitting in the corner.

"I believe Chisoo bought her straight from the Golden House. Overheard him talk to one of the guests." Yoongi responds, and Jungkook nods.

"Good." He smirks, standing up, and bracing his hands on the table with a dangerous glimmer in his eyes. "I've got some unfinished business with them anyways." He says. The Golden House was no longer a place of fear for him- because just like you, Jungkook isn't who he used to be.

"You're going to start a war over a hybrid friend you made years ago?" Namjoon worries. "Jungkook.." he sighs, but the Tiger hybrid doesn't back down.

Because you're not just a friend.

You were his Savior, the only soft thing he's ever had in his life.

"No. I'm not just starting a war-" Jungkook growls like the predator he is. "I'm getting my revenge."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Yoongi watches over you like a guard dog, just like Jungkook had told him to.

You'd overheard the tall tiger hybrid give those instructions to Yoongi just before he left in his car, and now you're left standing in the hallway where someone last told you to wait. "Come. You need to eat." The dog hybrid mumbles, walking a step before he checks if you follow. You do.

Of course you do.

You'd jump out the fucking window if someone told you to do so.

Before you were taken in by the Golden House, you'd actually roamed the streets with the dog hybrid together. You'd slept in a storage unit his past owner had rented before he died, a small place of shelter you eventually shared with Yoongi before you met Yuan Shun, the past head of the Golden House. You'd been way too naive back then. Told Yoongi you'd finally found a home to go to, finally found work to pay him back all his kindness.

You didn't know what you'd get yourself into. Not before Shun had forced you to get the small tattoo on your wrist that would forever bind you to him no matter if he died or lived. Every member of the Golden House had to get it one way or another- there was no way around it.

It was burned into everyone's wrist, whether they wanted it or not.

And once you're in, there is no out.

"Jungkook won't harm you." Yoongi says as he pulls out a bowl of something prepared, before he puts it into the microwave to heat it up. "He's just.. he can be a bit.." the dog hybrid sighs, shaking his head a little, unsure how to phrase it properly. Jungkook has his own problems, and it's pretty obvious to everyone around him that he's not the sanest of people any longer. No one can blame him for cracking a few braincells after what's happened to him, that's true- but that doesn't mean that he's a monster.

He's just scarred by his past, and haunted by his potential future.

You want to ask Yoongi what your connection to the tiger hybrid is. You really do- but you also feel like it's none of your business. If anything, you're simply waiting for orders, for a job you'll be working as from now on, a task you'll be given in this new place. The dynamic of things here is confusing to you, how everyone seems to walk freely, no one ever standing in one place waiting to be needed. You even saw someone laughing in one of the hallways.

It's eerie. You don't like it here.

"Eat." Yoongi says, before he holds your wrist, one of his ears twitching in irritation when he notices it's the one with the fine lined burn mark of the Golden House. "- when it's cooled down a little, of course." He sighs, and you nod after a moment, staring at the bowl of pasta.

Waiting. Counting the ticking from the clock in the kitchen.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"I don't give a flying fuck-" Jungkook growls, knee connecting with the man's jaw once more before he pushes the chair back, gripping his face to force him to look at him. "-about your so-called loyalty." He finishes his sentence. "The only reason I'm not breaking your jaw yet is because I need you to be able to talk." He threatens, before he steps back, and wipes his hand on a tissue.

"I'm not talking. Daeho will-" He starts, when Jungkook slowly and carefully loads a black gun in his hand, pulling the magazine back to ready it in his hands.

"Daeho will what?" Jungkook almost sings. "Kill you?" He asks with feigned innocence in his tone, while he walks forward, and points the nuzzle of the gun straight at the man's kneecap. "How nice. But you see, I'm not Daeho." The tiger tells him, tilting his head a little.

"And I'm not nice."

A shot rings through the small room, followed by agonized screaming, and the gun reloading in Jungkook's hands. "Now, I'll try again. Why did Daeho sell her to Chisoo?" He asks, and the man takes a few deep breaths.

"He wanted to fuck with you." He grits out from between his teeth. "He knew it would piss you off. He technically wanted to send you a tape- you know what kind." He says, and Jungkook's blood boils up again. Of course he knows what kind of actions that sick man would have forced you to do, what exactly he'd make Jungkook watch. "But he thought-.." The man needs to catch himself a little. "He thought it'd make more sense to give her to you instead. Alive."

"Why?" Jungkook asks.

"Because you'd lose your fucking- whatever the fuck you're doing!" He groans. "You'd turn soft. Maybe even break at the sight of her all fucked up like she is now." He explains. "That's why he messed her up before you got her." he says, clearly sweating now from his body trying to keep up with the rapid bloodloss.

Jungkook is silent, before he unloads the gun, clicks the safety in place, and puts it back into it's holster on his belt, turning to leave the room. "Wait- wait, what about me-!"

"You can bleed out right here like the pig you are."

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Mostly, because whatever was, isn't any better than what is now. The blood staining Jungkook's hands is still the same consistency as back in the fighting ring, it still washes down the drain the same way as it did before. There's nothing new to the way his knuckles hurt from the force of the punches he'd delivered to the man, and yet, there's a new sting in his chest that just won't leave.

Before you came here, he had at least a way of pacifying his worries about you. Before, he'd been able to just convince himself that you probably got yourself killed for him- that you'd been set free after all, finally escaping your cage once and for all.

The fact that you did not, and instead just went from one cage to the next, makes him nauseous. He doesn't even want to know what you had to endure throughout the years you'd been apart. Now you're just a shell- a plastic lifeless version of what you once were, nothing of your soul remaining inside of you. Could he even consider you 'you' any longer? Or were you now someone else?

Are you someone at all?

"Where is she?" Jungkook asks Seokjin, who'd brought him a plate of dinner into his office.

"She's eating with Yoongi downstairs in the kitchen." He tells his boss and friend, who's currently looking outside the window facing the balcony. "What do we do with her?"

I don't know, is what Jungkook's only answer can be. Because he surely doesn't- he's unsure if actually killing you would be a more generous thing to do than letting you simply waste away in the state that you're in right now. What you are, in this moment, can't be called 'alive'. There's nothing living behind those eyes, nothing but fear.

But he also knows that he'd never be able to put the gun to your head and shoot.

"Can I give a suggestion?" Jin asks after a moment of silence, and Jungkook turns his head, nodding. "What if you turn this whole 'joke' around?"

"What do you mean?" Jungkook asks, body now moving as well to face his older friend.

"Right now, her presence is doing exactly what it's supposed to." The cat hybrid says. "She's making you lose focus, makes you act without thinking. That's what they want."

"I'm not killing her." Jungkook defends.

"I'm not asking you to." Seokjin says, walking closer. "But think about it. What about her is making you feel like this the most?" He urges.

The fear you have. The fact you forgot him. The terror in your eyes. The emptiness you represent.

"Jungkook, you told me once that back then, she was the only thing keeping you sane in that place." The man says, white ears twitching between his hair. "And she can become just that once again."

"Have you seen her?" Jungkook growls.

"Have you?" Jin challenges. "You're in a place of power here. You call the shots, this-" He gestures around. "-all of this is yours. You offer us protection, a home, a place to let our guard down for once. You're not who you were before. You turned your life around- and you can do it again, but this time, it'll be her's." He says, and suddenly, Jungkook understands what his friend is trying to tell him.

This is his place. His territory. He's in charge. He's in control.

Nothing will ever return to what it once was.

Because he'll be the change it needs to turn this twisted joke around.

⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅ ── ⋅ ⋅

"Remember, he's nothing to be scared of." Yoongi tells you, before he opens the door, and gently pushes you inside by your lower back- before he leaves you alone with the tiger hybrid in the room, no longer wearing his jacket, only dressed in a casually unbuttoned black shirt and slacks.

Even his gun is on the table. You could take it at any moment, shoot him, no problem. You know how to shoot a gun. Is he that stupid?

Probably not. There has to be a reason for his actions- you don't think he got to his position by being reckless.

He moves slowly, a lot more confident and most of all relaxed than when you last saw him- the person he is right in this moment a stark contrast to who he'd been when he first saw you. It makes you suspicious, unsure, because if he houses so many different versions of himself inside his body, how could you ever know who the real one is?

"The rules in this house, and under my hand, are simple." He says, voice surprisingly calm as he speaks. "Loyalty." He states, looks at you- and from the fact alone that he doesn't seem to mind, you guess that Yoongi was right when he said that you were allowed to do that. "As long as you don't betray me, I will offer you a safe place, and protection."

That doesn't make sense to you.

If that was true, that would mean that he'd just take in random people just because they don't snitch on him- what the hell would he even get out of that? Inside the Golden House, there were already rumors about him. That he's possessed by the drive to 'change the game' and put hybrids up on top, an odd way to live since apparently he'd escaped this entire circus years prior. Why would he willingly return to it?

Even worse, play the game he barely managed to get out of?

He sits down on the edge of his bed, and only now do you realize where exactly you might be right now. And it confuses you even more. He's letting you into his personal rooms?

Why?

"Come here." He says, and your legs move without any of your control. Like a puppet on a string you're pulled towards him, unable to really go against any orders told to you, like you're mind controlled. The moment you stand in front of him, he reaches out his hand- and you're torn by the possible choice given to you. But if he reaches out, you're supposed to take the hand, right?

Instead, you put your own in his, not making a decision at all.

Control is a scary thing. You don't want it.

He looks at your wrist as he turns your hand over, thumb running over the signature branding you have on your skin, burned in scar never fading. It's when you can spot something on the hand that holds yours, between all the ink and color he's placed underneath the skin. A scar, achingly similar to your own.

Your eyes find his- but he's not looking at you.

So he's from the same place as you once were. Is that why he smells so familiar? Did you forget him? Or did you never know him at all, and simply caught traces of him during your time at the Golden House?

Who is he?

"From now on, you're mine." He tells you, and you soak up that info like a sponge. "You belong here, and nowhere else." He says, and you nod to make sure he knows that you understand. There's a small moment where he simply looks at you, before he nods as well, and lets go of your hand. "Can you write?" He asks, and you eagerly nod, finally expecting a task from him. You'll be useful, you'll have something to do- you won't just have to stand around and wait for something that never happens. "Good. That gives me at least some way you can talk to me, I guess." He mumbles to himself as he gets up and walks past you, to dig around in a small drawer of a desk close by. "I want you to talk. If not with your voice-" He offers a small, palm sized notebook to you, a pen clipped to it's side. "-then with this."

You take the booklet with a nod, opening it to write something down. He expects a thank you- but that's not what he gets.

'What is my purpose here?' you've written, and he sighs to himself.

"Heal." He says, making you look at him confused. You're already starting to show a lot more emotions he notices, and it calms him down quite a bit, because that means that even though you may have forgotten him, you're at least slowly adapting to the overall environment you're now in. You move to write something again, before you hold out the booklet.

'There has to be a job for me.' you write, and he tilts his head at you, arms crossed, veins clear under his forearms, exposed since he'd rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"And I just told you what it is." He responds, face expressionless, but eyes glimmering with something almost mischievous. "Your job is to heal, adjust, and adapt to the way I run things." He tells you. "But if you want a.. job, I can try and arrange something for you." He huffs, dissatisfied, but still caving in.

You show him the opened page again, something added to the bottom.

'Thank you' is written there.

He just nods, and knocks on his door to give Namjoon the sign to take you to your room so you can sleep- and leave him by himself for a moment, as he watches the calm night-sky from his window, world steadily moving on while he doesn't know what's to come for him.

Even if Seokjin is right, there is no guarantee that this whole thing won't just backfire horribly. And there's still the looming threat of someone amongst his people who's currently the biggest danger to the house of cards Jungkook had barely built up over the years until now. If that person just so much as pushes one more card, it might all come falling down-

and this time, he'll take you with him.

If he dies, you can't survive.

Because if you do, you'll probably face a fate he doesn't even want to imagine.

[okaysonny]

i saw a guy kissing santa claus! ╎ jake kim

ᯓ★ summary: being santa claus is the biggest big girl job there is.

ᯓ★ details: fluff, established relationship, f! reader, spoiler free.

ᯓ★ wc: 1.8k

ᯓ★ A/N: erm...it'll make more sense as you read. but my second fic! yippee! heard the song while i was shopping and the idea just came to me lol. merry chrithmus <3

divider: @strangergraphics header image: Madokka on pinterest

"you promised you wouldn't laugh!"

jake is laughing anyway. not a quiet chuckle either — full on can’t-catch-his-breath laughter, covering his mouth so you can't see the extent of it. “sorry, sorry. it’s just…i thought you were joking when you told me. you actually went through with it?”

the suit didn’t fit. of course it wouldn't fit. it's designed with a jolly old man in mind, not…you. the coat has you swimming in fabric. the pants were two sizes too big, and the large belt barely cinched your waist. then there was the beard — a fluffy contraption that tickled your chin and smelled faintly of whatever cheap detergent the mall used to sanitise it. definitely a look.

you cross your arms, the red velvet sleeves swishing dramatically. "i was dead serious, jake. but i didn't think i'd actually get it!"

he exhales, trying to compose himself. "i can see that. so…santa claus? really?"

"the one and only!" you tug on the beard's elastic strap in an attempt to make it more comfortable, but it snaps back with a vengeance.

"so, they didn’t think it was weird that you’re…y’know…not an old guy with a beer belly?"

"don't say that! that's not what christmas is about!"

"…what does that even mean?"

“it means…” you plop down next to him and take off the beard. “only a person who truly embodies the joy of christmas could be santa this year. and according to the manager, that’s me" you huff, slightly delighted with yourself.

jake gives you a skeptical look. “you? the joy of christmas?”

"i have loads of christmas joy!" you try your best to look offended. "the manager said enthusiasm is more important than looks. um, or maybe he's just a creep. i dunno. anyway, the pay is fucking amazing, so i didn't question it!"

"right" he nods solemnly. "that’s exactly the kind of logic santa would have"

he earns a smack from the santa beard. "whatever!" your expression shifts into something more sincere. "it just sucks, because i can't see you much for the next few weeks"

“…you don’t want your boyfriend visiting you at work? that's cold” he feigns disappointment.

"are you crazy? of course not! this isn't an office job…it's embarrassing" you take off the hat, tossing it on the table. "and you're a busy guy too! so don't even think about swinging by"

what a bizarre situation. he can't hide his amusement, but still decides to surrender. "okay, okay. i'll stay out of your winter wonderland"

you take his hand and squeeze it apologetically. "thanks, jake. just for a few weeks"

⋆꙳•❅‧₊⋆❆₊⋆

as he descends the elevator in your apartment building, he whips out his phone, a smile tugging on his lips. he picks up instantly.

"jerry?"

"yes, boss?"

"do we have much on the schedule tomorrow?"

"no, boss"

"alright. thanks, jerry"

"you're welcome, boss"

the mall is a bustling snow globe come to life. string lights twinkle like they’re winking at you, and wreaths hang on every surface. oversized ornaments dangle from the ceiling and in the distance, a giant christmas tree is bursting with red, green, and glitter.

the main event is, of course, the santa station. a giant throne surrounded by candy canes and a line of impatient kids. it stretches longer than you expected, and parents are eyeing you like you’re the reason holiday shopping is ruining their lives.

you shuffle in your boots, shifting your itchy red pants for the millionth time. too late to back out now. you plaster on your best smile and remind yourself that the paycheck is worth it. probably.

dressed in an elf costume, reluctantly it seems, a colleague sighs, casting a weary glance at the children. he unhooks the red rope. “alright folks, one at a time, please. santas ready for you” he muttered, as he waved them through.

"hohoho! merry christmas everyone! santas caught a cold this year, so he may sound a little different!" it's the best santa voice you can manage. alright kids, do your worst.

the first boy bounces onto your lap. “what do you want for christmas, kiddo?” “a new gaming console, please! the one with the ultra HD graphics!” he says, eyes sparkling with excitement. you nod wisely, stroking your beard. “a solid choice. santa’s got your back — unless the elves get stuck in a multiplayer match.” "r-really? tell them to hurry!”

the next child hesitates before climbing up, clutching a sparkly notebook. “and you? what’s your christmas wish?” “i want an electric guitar!” she says confidently. “and lessons, so i can be a rock star!” “love it” you tip your hat. “we’ll have you practicing in no time. don’t forget to thank your parents.” she grins. “i won’t!”

one kid runs up, practically throwing himself onto you. “what can santa do for you?” you ask, smiling. “i want daddy to come home again!” you blink. oh boy. “that’s…a really nice wish!” you say, patting his shoulder. “i’ll do my best!”

his mom hurries over, her face beet red. “timmy! what did i say about that?”

“but santa can fix it!” he insists, beaming up at you. you wave weakly as she drags him off, muttering “we’ll talk about this later.”

there's only so many hohoho's you can manage before you start to tire. but every now and then, a child would hug you so sincerely that you felt like you were truly santa claus. motivation to keep you going.

until finally. "okay kids, that's all the time santa has for today! he'll be here at the same time tomorrow!" a line of children start crying. your elf-dressed colleague hooks the rope back again, before hastily walking off.

could you manage this for the next few weeks? you slump back on the throne in contemplation before something catches your eye. blue tracksuit. you sit up suddenly, eyes scanning the crowd to see if you're right.

sure enough, there he was. with that stupid lop-sided grin. jake just stands there, arms crossed, looking like he’s about to start laughing any second. you glare at him, but he doesn’t flinch. if anything, his grin widens.

whatever. you try to play it cool, leaning back into the throne. just ignore him you tell yourself. he’ll get bored and leave.

but then he does the unthinkable. he raises his hand and waves - big, dramatic, and impossible to miss. a kid tugs on his dad’s sleeve. “is that santa’s friend?”

“oh, look at that! santa needs to check the naughty list real quick!” you push yourself off the chair with a forced chuckle as you scurry away. your attempt at casual speed walking is anything but that, and the kids confirm it for you. one kid pipes up. “santa walks really fast!” another adds “he looks kinda mad”

"hohoho! what’s this? a surprise visitor from the north pole?" you say, speeding up until you’re right in front of him. you jab a finger at his chest. "did those silly elves send you here early? they’re always causing mischief!"

"yeah, they’re the worst. real troublemakers" jake peers at you in all your bearded glory, as he stifles a laugh. "you should see what they did to my uh…sleigh"

"unbelievable!" you boom, grabbing him by the arm and guiding him away. "let’s take this up with mrs. claus, shall we?" the parents watch the two of you with furrowed brows, and you hear one whisper “did santa just kidnap that guy?”

you practically shove him into the break room, your cheeks burning under the beard. "what the hell jake?! i told you not to come! don't you have a street to look after?"

he waves a hand dismissively. "they can manage without me for a few hours. jerry has everything under control. are you saying you don't trust jerry?"

"what? no! but i told you not to come! it's humiliating if you see me like this!" you splutter.

jake shrugs. "i've seen worse. remember the time lineman tried to wear a tie? he looked like he was being choked out."

you blink, caught off guard. "that's not the same thing!"

"sure it is" he says, leaning against the wall. "besides, you’re bringing joy to the children of the world!"

your eyes narrow. "jake, be serious."

"i am!" he protests, gesturing to your outfit. "i mean sure, the beard’s a little…fluffy, but it suits you. adds character."

you tug self-consciously at the itchy material. "i swear-"

"hey…" he cuts you off, his voice softer now. "i’m just here to keep you company. nothing humiliating about that. you really want me to go?"

"of course not, it's just…" you frown. "i feel like i'm not doing a good job at this. i dunno"

jake gently takes your hand, pulling you towards him. "you’re doing fine. trust me. the kids love it. you’re the best santa they’ll get this year."

"but i don't even look like santa…" you mumble.

he smiles, adjusting your hat into place. “so what? they can't even tell. you're just that good”

“oh” you grin sheepishly. “really?”

“yes, really” he laughs. you love his laugh.

“so stop worrying. speaking of which...” he leans in just slightly, his voice dropping to a murmur. “santa, can i get an early christmas gift?”

you scrunch your nose in disgust. “jake. that's so corny”

still, the pink on your cheeks betray you. for once, you were grateful for the beard.

“yeah” he admits, gazing at you with adoration, santa suit and all. “but you like it.”

you roll your eyes as he leans in to kiss you. the beard tickles your chin, and you’re pretty sure it tickles his too, judging by the way he pauses and laughs against your lips. it's soft and sweet. practically magical.

well. it would have been magical, if not for the tiny squeak that echoes in your ear.

“mommy, look!” a little voice shouts. “who’s that guy? why is he kissing santa?”

you both dart your heads, panic setting in as you see a little boy pointing at the two of you. the door you forgot to close fully creaks a bit wider as his mother tugs him away.

“hush! don't point! it's rude! let’s not interrupt santa while she’s — i mean, he’s, uh…working!” she says quickly, shooting you and jake an apologetic smile before hurrying off.

you stare after them in mortification before glancing back to him. “i can't believe it. did i just traumatise a child?”

jake just bursts into laughter, shaking his head. “i can. never mind, you’re seriously the worst santa ever”

“yeah? maybe next time you can wear the beard” you shoot back, smoothing out any creases in the suit.

“deal” his smile grows wider as he drapes an arm over your shoulder. “but don’t blame me when the north pole gets a new leader after i outshine you”

you can’t help your own smile from forming. “merry christmas to you too”

A/N: typing 'mall' pained me deeply, but it seemed like the best choice of words. i am not american (-.-)

[sxeraphfic]

what are your nsfw hcs for donnie? 🤭

TW/NSFW - DONNIE DARKO HCS

Thank you for the ask dear! 

And anyone else who's reading this, if you happen to take a liking to one of my hcs and want me to write a fic/drabble on it just send it in the ask box <3 

A/N: these hcs are general nsfw hcs.. If anyone's interested in cough dead dove and darker nsfw hcs.. My asks are ready for that question :9

Donnie is a socially awkward young man who attempts to hide it through sarcasm and long intellectual rants, the truth is he's never been exactly.. Popular in either the friends or relationship department. That being said, his fantasies usually involve intimacy. In other words, he's totally a horny guy and def has frequent dirty thoughts. And anyone who's watched the deleted scene between him and his therapist would see that.  

What are my personal hc’s for him?  

I think donnie is most likely into some more obscure and weird kinks/interests while simultaneously being kind of vanilla. 

He’d be happy to try anything out really as long as it isn't causing you overt harm that's long lasting.  

He’s probably gentle and shy about sex at first with you, but as time goes on he’ll get more and more into rougher sex   

he enjoys cumming on your face, stomach, thighs and inside you, obviously.

Rough sex with him wouldn't be super crazy bondage or anything but he's definitely into slight smacking/spanking and manhandling. If you're shorter than him it's probably a guarantee he secretly gets off on it or even occasionally admits it to you during it.  

He’s probably read a lot of playboy-esque magazines and has seen images involving tied/cuffed hands, if he's feeling brave he'd be happy to go either way with doing it. 

I can imagine him being into nipple/breast play as well, tbh whether you have a flat chest or A cups or DD cups he's gonna feel them up. He enjoys biting, licking and sucking them too.   

tummy kisses

def loves to give hickies/love bites aswell, specifically on your neck and thighs. He likes if you give them too.

Donnie’s favourite body parts would include; stomach, thighs, neck and chest.   

Donnie's favourite positions may include; doggy style, spooning, missionary, breeding/flatiron and standing.  

I think he would enjoy grinding and dry humping ALOT, he's a bit of a freak and enjoys the forced lack of stimulation from it if he's grinding or dry humping against you. Seeing you use him for pleasure through grinding drives him absolutely crazy, I think it's one of the few examples where a little bit of a soft dom side of him comes out. especially if you're needy during it.    

Thigh fucking? Thigh fucking. Your thighs are not safe.    

Finger sucking as well, both ways.

He's def at least a teeny bit into mommy dom stuff lets be real. Call him a good boy, edge him and control what he's allowed to do, he likes it.  

Def a head giver, sure he likes to receive. But the thought of getting in between your thighs and feeling them crush his face or feeling you push him away makes his cheeks flush and his pants tighten.  

Normal donnie? Cat boy. During sex donnie? A total puppy boy.

That being said Donnie is kind of a sexual chameleon, he can go from soft dom behaviour to being honestly kind of subby in seconds.  

He has a slight humiliation kink, which ties into his more subby side. If you make fun of him or tease him during sex it'll just make his dick 100x more hard.  

Don't forget to praise him though, the poor thing has hardly been complimented or praised throughout his life so he’ll appreciate it and fantasise about you doing it.

Donnie likes it if you act desperate or needy, or if you plead for him.

He's definitely going to ramp up the teasing aswell during it, he likes to humiliate you just as much as you do to him.

Donnie enjoys casual clothing during sex if that makes sense, don't get him wrong he finds lingerie beautiful. But something about seeing his partner in nothing but a t-shirt and panties or topless with just pyjama pants on gets him reeeeal hot.  

Donnie may partake in “risky” sex, he gets a high off of doing inappropriate things semi-publically and enjoys the idea of almost getting caught. Eg; in changerooms, bathrooms, cinemas etc.   

Donnie is vocal during sex, he grunts and huffs and mumbles from how good it feels.

Donnie is not a dirty talker, and he doesn't use pet names super often either. But he might let a tiny bit of dirty talk slip out if he's getting really into it.   

Remember at the start when I said he could be into some “more obscure stuff” ? well here's a FEW possibilities, stockings, choking (towards him), dacryphilia (tears), edging, lowkey feet too i'm sorry guys. There's some more stuff but that might have to be for a dead dove hc list LOL.

That's it for now! Maybe ill do a part two for general nsfw hcs for him one day but i've run out of ideas. I hope you all enjoyed <3

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

[justwinginglife]

Hello!! Hope you are doing well and are having a good day ❤️ Can you maybe do a fic with Narumi (Preferably if you do write for him) or Hoshina where he is together with a reader who faints quite a lot of times and still neglects her health. Hoshina or Narumi is like very very overprotective not yandere type but too sweet boyfriend type. Really want to read a long fic with oh so sweet kaiju no 8 boyfriend . Please do delete this if you don't like it..

Also thanks so much for being so kind and sweet. I love your fics so muchh. The way you write is so wonderful and super enjoyable to read. Do make sure to take care of yourself and not overwork:D

Hello again! @totallybakedcake I hope all your school things turned out well! If not, it'll get better <3 Also thanks so much for the compliments omg! I'm a happy woman :) Hope you have the BEST of days, I will 100% write this for you, Narumi and all. I hope this was a long enough fic, it felt very long writing it lol. There is also mentions of a mature scene but no explicit detail.

Falling For You

The day you met Gen Narumi, you quite literally fell for him. 

The familiar, dizzying pull of gravity had suddenly taken hold of you, and -accepting your fate, as you had all the times before- you aimed your fall towards a nearby bench. When you pleasantly landed in his arms instead, your senses snapped to attention. You were suddenly very aware of his warmth, of his scent, of your lack of breath in the face of his allure. 

When he finally spoke, you thought you might bottle up the sound of his voice and save it for a rainy day. “Woah there. Maybe let’s not take a spill in the middle of the sidewalk, yeah?” 

You simply nodded. You hadn’t yet figured out how to conjure up your thanks, your words seemingly frozen in your throat. 

He searched your face for a moment, his gorgeous eyes unraveling you with every second that passed. “Are you feeling sick or something? Need anything?”

You shook your head.

“Okay… well, I need to get to work. Can I trust you to not bash your head open on the concrete if I leave?”

You nodded again. Apparently head movements were all you were capable of at the moment. 

He looked you over once more and then sighed before reluctantly walking away. Your heart pounded in your chest when he looked back at you, not once but twice, before disappearing into the distance. 

Then your phone beeped and you realized you had to get to work too. It was your first day and you couldn’t be late. You took off in the direction he went in and you wondered if maybe you’d see him on the way. You wondered if maybe you’d have the strength to actually thank him if you saw him again. You wondered if you’d ever see him again, or if that one moment was all you had to cling to. 

You may have underestimated fate because the moment you reported to your superior for your first day of work, you realized it was him and you nearly swallowed your own tongue. 

He looked up from his computer and his eyes almost bulged out of his head when he realized who you were. He looked from the report on his desk to you, then back to the report. “This is you? You’re my new officer??” 

You nodded meekly. “Yes, sir. I am.”

He sighed heavily, rubbing his temples like you were giving him a headache. “This fainting spell of yours. One time thing?”

You swallowed. It was more than enough of an answer for him. 

He groaned and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Great. So I’ve got a walking catastrophe at my door.”

You winced. His demeanor was completely different than it had been mere moments ago. You wondered if he had an evil twin or something. “I-I promise, I’ll be useful.”

His eyes narrowed. “You’ll be useful? Do you mean useful in getting my squadron killed trying to look after you? I don’t have the time or the patience for weaklings and I certainly don’t want them in my division.”

Suddenly your earlier timidity dissipated, now replaced with a raging fire. “With all due respect, Captain, I’m not a weakling in the slightest. And I’ve never had trouble with fainting on the battlefield before. I’ve never had trouble with anything on the battlefield before. You can look at my report again, as many times as you want, you can ask any division I’ve worked with, watch drone coverage of any battle I’ve won, as many times as it takes to convince you, but at the end of the day, I’m a valuable asset and you need me.” You met his gaze with steel of your own, daring his eyes to look away from you, daring him to underestimate your skill again. 

He stared at you for a moment. His fingers drummed over the report on his desk, the report that he’d already gone over extensively, the report that confirmed every one of your bold statements. Gen Narumi was infamous for slacking off, for running away from meetings, for dodging his mound of paperwork, but he would never let anyone onto his team without doing his research. There was too much to lose if he let an amateur run wild on his turf. Everyone in the Defense Force knew that if you wanted into the First Division, you went through Narumi. There was no chance in hell you’d be allowed in if he didn’t think you belonged there. After examining the resolve on your face, he spoke, “We’ll see about that. I’m putting you at the back for now, and if I think for even a second that you’re not cut out for this, that you’re wasting my time, I will bench you. I’ll more than bench you- I’ll end your career so fast, you won’t have time to blink let alone beg.”

You stood up straighter, saluting him. “Yes, sir. I won’t let you down, I swear. You’ll be nothing short of impressed.”

He nodded. “Good. I’m expecting nothing but the best from you after all that big talk of yours.” Then he cleared his throat. “And maybe let’s keep this fainting thing between the two of us, yeah? I don’t want anyone to know I let someone so feeble into my division.”

You bit your lip to keep from sassing your superior again. “Yes, sir.”

And with that, your second meeting with Gen Narumi came to its conclusion. 

It only took a couple weeks for the Captain to finally acknowledge you, having kept your promise to be of tremendous use to him. When you first followed the First Division into battle, even knowing your track record, he’d thought your skills a fluke. But over the next several weeks, you’d shown time and time again that your power was a result of vigorous training and combat experience, and he couldn’t ignore what an asset you were any longer.

He called you to his side on your next mission. You somehow had the nerve to tease him about giving you a promotion, but he’d snorted and said you were lucky to be on the front lines at all. When you completely obliterated the Honju before he could even pull out his bayonet, he almost considered making you Platoon Leader right then and there. But he was concerned about your… issue.

The next day, you’d woken up earlier than usual to enjoy some peace and quiet and Narumi hounded you while you were pouring yourself a cup of coffee. “So is it like a carsickness kinda thing? Only not in a car?”

You didn’t even turn to look at him. “Wow, not even a ‘good morning’ from you, Captain?”

He shrugged and snagged the pitcher from your hands, pouring himself a cup as well. “Just tryna narrow down the cause of your spells, that’s all. Can’t help being curious.”

You sighed as you stirred your cream into your coffee. “It’s not an issue, Captain. You should know by now it’s not an issue.”

He examined you as he took a sip of his drink. “Not out there, no. But in here? In here, I have to be careful you don’t drown yourself in the bath cuz you passed out, or conk out on the counter cuz you felt ill,” He moved to place a hand over the pointed edge, half teasing and half serious. 

You bit your lip to keep from smiling as you took a seat at a nearby table. “So what I’m hearing is, you think about me in the bath?”

He snorted. “Hardly. I’d just hate to have my favorite errand girl six feet under.” He slid into the chair next to you, slurping his coffee loudly.

“Ahh, so you admit I’m your favorite.” You teased, nudging him with your arm. 

He scoffed. “But you’re not my favorite. You’re just… I don’t know what you are. You’re something. Real pain in my ass.” 

“Yeah, well, it’d help if you stopped worrying about me so much.”

He crossed his arms and huffed. “I’m not worried, I just don’t want this to reflect badly on me, that’s all.” 

You peered at him thoughtfully, trying to read his expression. “Okay. So let’s make a deal then. I’ll let you know anytime I feel poorly, and you stop harassing me about it. We’ll just let what happens happen.”

His eyes searched yours, trying to find some semblance of insincerity. Then, deciding he was satisfied with this arrangement, he stuck his hand out for you to shake. “Fine. Deal.”

You shook it and went back to enjoying your coffee beside him in silence. 

Both of you made the decision to form this pact together, but you weren’t sure Narumi fully understood just how frequently you’d be calling on him after this.

Your next episode was the very same day you’d made the deal. Just a couple hours after you’d finished having your coffee together, you were out running laps when you started to feel lightheaded. You called him and by the time he made it out to you, you had collapsed on the track. Luckily, everyone was still inside eating breakfast, and no one had seen your fall. 

You woke up to him hovering over you, hand on your forehead, as he repeatedly called your name. 

When he saw you blink awake, he sighed with relief. “Fucking hell, you’re a mess, you know that?” He gave you shit but you could tell by the way beads of sweat had collected down his face and neck, by the way his breaths heaved heavily in his chest, that he was worried about you.

You had to laugh at that. Captain of Japan’s strongest division, and he was more worried than you were. 

He glared at you. “Why are you laughing, what’s so funny about this?”

You shrugged. “Happens all the time. It’s no big deal.”

He groaned and collapsed on the ground beside you. “You’re telling me, I’m gonna be running myself ragged looking after you? What am I, your babysitter?”

You poked him in the arm, smirking. “Hey, you signed up for this.”

He sighed. “Yeah, yeah. You’re right, you don’t have to look so fucking smug about it.” Then he was quiet for a moment. “Hey… I think maybe I should… be around you more. So I’m not too far away if something happens.” He swallowed as though the sudden intimacy of his request was too shameful to bear speaking aloud. But he knew he had to. He couldn’t keep running all over base to find you, what if you didn’t call him in time and collapsed in front of a moving truck? 

You thought about it for a moment. You’d never had someone actively caring for you like this before. It was a nice change of pace. Even if that someone was your annoying Captain. And even then, he wasn’t all bad. He seemed to you like he was only rough on the outside, but you felt you were one step away from breaking down those walls of his. You wondered what the view on the other side of those walls would look like. So you agreed. 

Soon, you were doing everything together. You were taking walks together, training together, going to movies together, having meals together. It was hard for people not to think you were dating. Though, Narumi was frequently putting down any rumors of the sort, saying he was just trying to make sure his investment in you wasn’t a waste. He did end up promoting you to Platoon Leader. He had no qualms about it considering you had more than proven yourself capable and worthy of the position, and now he could keep a closer watch over you.

He was more attentive than you thought he’d be. He’d noticed you never drank water enough and when he’d encouraged -practically forced- you to start drinking more, you fainted slightly less. He’d started cooking you home cooked meals in case your diet of junk food and frozen meals were the culprit for your spells. He’d even started sending you to bed early so he could be sure you were well rested. Of course, he never took credit for being so kind. He’d simply say he couldn’t stand to see you looking so shriveled up so you had to take a sip of his water. Or he’d say the junk food was making you sloppy, so you had to try his food instead. Or he’d say the bags under your eyes were too pitiful a sight to see, so you just had to retire for the night. And when you’d say to him every time, “It’s okay Narumi, I know you secretly care. Thanks, Narumi,” with the sweetest smile he’d ever seen, he thought he felt his heart soften a little more each time. 

Eventually, things changed between the two of you, when you did, in fact, almost drown in the bath. 

“Didn’t I fucking call it? Didn’t I say you might do this one day? You need to be more careful, damnit.” Narumi muttered, sitting on the bathroom floor and averting his eyes while he held out a towel for you. 

“Gen…” You cooed.

He blushed when you called him by his first name for the first time. “Yeah, what is it?” He grumbled. 

“You can look, you know. It’s just me.”

The shade of red dug even deeper into his cheeks. “I’m not… I’m not gonna look. Just hurry up and get dressed.”

“And what if I wanted you to look?” You pulled yourself up from the water and kneeled in front of him. 

He met your gaze for the first time all night. “And why… why would you want that?”

“Because I like you, Gen.”

He couldn’t stand the way you purred his name like it was meant to sit pretty on your lips. He couldn’t stand the sight of you naked, dripping wet, waiting for his response, waiting for him to like you back. He couldn’t stand the way he felt every time he was around you, the way his heart felt like it might burst, the way he worried when you had another spell, the way he relaxed when you were okay, when you were beside him, when you were nobody’s but his. And he couldn’t stand that he hadn’t kissed you yet.

So he took you on the bathroom floor and you discovered there were other reasons to be breathless, other reasons to be dizzy, other reasons to be lightheaded, that were significantly more pleasurable. And you decided that you’d sacrifice your breath to him every time, with no hesitation, just to get a taste of his lips again and again. 

When you finally started dating, it was to no one’s surprise. The entire First Division had already thought you were dating; they were more shocked that you were only now making it official. 

When you finally started dating, everything and nothing changed all at once. You still talked with him, still walked with him, but now you talked late into the night, huddled under the sheets with him naked, now you walked with his arm around your waist, pulling you closer whenever you’d stray too far for his comfort. You still ate with him, still drank with him, but now you were sharing meals, sharing drinks. You did everything together that you’d always done, but now his love made itself known to you in every second of every day, in every breath he inhaled, in every breath he exhaled, in every word he uttered, in every touch he savored, in every moment in your presence. 

He loved you so immensely, so emphatically, so infinitely, that you thought the only way one could ever be truly loved was to be loved by Gen Narumi. 

When you’d stay late and overwork yourself again -completely by accident, you knew he’d scold you otherwise- he’d throw you over his shoulder and carry you to bed. When you’d forget to eat, he’d force feed you food until he was satisfied. He’d care for you even when you forgot to care for yourself. Especially when you forgot to take care of yourself.

And when he’d examine you thoroughly after battles to make sure you weren’t hiding any injuries from him, when he’d admonish you for being reckless even though he himself was reckless, when he’d check your pulse, check your temperature, check your oxygen levels, when he thought you might be even the least bit under the weather, you knew his overbearance was nothing more than love at its purest. 

Eventually, you had less and less fainting spells with each and every day that passed, after being so thoroughly and wonderfully cared for by him, and when you did feel the occasional dizziness consume you again, he was always right there beside you, waiting for you to come back to him. 

You’d always wondered what the view would be like once his walls came crumbling down, and the sight of his heart laid bare for you made the wait worth it. And it was all yours, he never let you forget that.

And when he finally proposed to you, murmuring, “So I can care for you always,” you simply smiled at him, accepted the ring, and said “You already do, baby, you already do.”