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whatifyoulivelikethat · 3 years ago

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journey, m | ot7

full title: journey to the dick

pairing(s): ot7 x reader

summary: A Cinderella story but it's a dick pic. Yup, that's right. You find a dick pic on your phone and make it your mission to find the owner of said dick. Time to fuck the seven hottest guys you know! Onwards!

warnings: rated M (18+) for language, mentions of alcohol consumption / partying; horny crack, everyone radiates chaotic energy and wants to fuck; reader is comparing their dicks to above-mentioned dick pic so there's a lot of talk about dick, did I mention there's a lot of dick? dick; smut (fem reader, slight D/s dynamics in some scenes, m-receiving oral, cowgirl, penetrative sex, doggy, spanking, handjob, thigh fucking, dance studio sex, overstimulation, fingering, dry humping, 69, face-sitting, photography during sex, m-masturbation, being cummed on (neck / chest [a cum necklace LMAO] + hand), film studio sex, wall-fucking, being overheard / walked in on during sex (and not giving a shit, oops), implied car sex, implied threesome); non-idol!AU - ot7 x sex friend!reader; each member has their own scene

appearances based on the 'Butter' jacket photoshoots yes, the opening line is #50 of my prompt list LMAO title comes from Journey to the West, except it's dick because that's way more important. also, yeah, this is basically a harem hentai, but it's you and BTS, woohoo! :D

"Whose dick pic is this and why it is so inspirational?"

Park Jimin craned his head over to look at your phone, black hair brushing against your forehead. "Damn! That is an incredible dick."

"What are you guys talking about?" Kim Taehyung muttered, yanking your phone out of your hand and peering at the screen. His eyes widened, eyebrows shooting up into his dark brown hair. "Oh, ho! What a high-quality specimen of a dick."

"Why is it on my phone though?" you frowned, taking your phone back from Taehyung. You were sitting next to Jimin on their sofa, contemplating the great mysteries of the world. The black phone case had a cute mouse holding a large sewing needle and sitting next to a spool of sky-blue thread. "I didn't take this one, sadly."

"Maybe you were real drunk," Jimin offered.

"I haven't been real drunk since I projectile vomited in your guys' parking lot."

"That was last week," Taehyung reminded you, smiling amusedly.

You narrowed your eyes. "Look, it was a bad breakup."

"You went on, like, two dates," Jimin laughed, smacking you in the arm.

"It had potential!"

"Yeah, a potential dumpster fire," Taehyung added, rolling his eyes as he sat down on the other side of you. "I know you go for the quiet, nerdy ones, but you're just–"

"Brash? Forward? Ready to sit on dick at any second?"

Jimin was being very helpful.

Taehyung shoved Jimin's grinning face away. "It's a conflict of personality and yours is quite intense, so maybe you should try and be more open-minded about other options."

You frowned, not enjoying this pep talk that you probably needed. In fact, you avoided said pep talk at all costs. You reached back and yanked on Taehyung's ponytail. He prodded you in the left breast in response, glaring. You smacked his hand. He smacked your hand back.

Hey, when you don't have a good reply, resort to violence, right?

You looked back down at your phone. Swollen, red-purple, a good thickness. Nice length too, so hard it was sticking up without the assistance of a hand. You could spy the white pre-cum beading at the engorged tip. It was a strangely clear and well-composed photo. Black boxer briefs. Blue jeans, white shirt.

Fuck.

Could literally be any guy in the history of existence.

You turned the photo to Jimin. "Someone must have taken it last night when I couldn't find my phone for those two hours."

Jimin nodded. "Yeah, seems like it."

"You remember anyone in this outfit?"

Jimin snorted, wrinkling his cute nose. "Everyone was in jeans and a white t-shirt. 'Cause there was that wet t-shirt contest later that night, remember?"

You scratched your head. Ah, yes. Taehyung won. Man looked fucking amazing thanks to working out his arms and chest the past month. Was it solely for the purpose of a silly party gimmick? Maybe. You weren’t complaining though. You did what any good friend would do.

"Oh, right. Who won?"

Taehyung grabbed your shoulders and violently shook you. "I did! Obviously – ah, fuck you!" His tone quickly changed when he realized you were laughing like a maniac, doubling over in a pile of giggles with Jimin. "You're the worst," Taehyung pouted, holding his arms protectively.

"I'm just kidding, don't be mad," you chuckled, reaching over to hug him. He accepted it, but not without continuing to pout. You nuzzled his neck, placing soft kisses on his skin. "I bought you your favorite breakfast when you were hung over this morning, come on now."

His dark brown eyes shifted back and forth before letting out a long, deep sigh and hugging you back. Damn. He had a nice hug now thanks to these arms and his broad chest. He smelled like warm chamomile.

"I worked hard for these," he mumbled.

You patted him on the back before releasing him and holding up your phone. Back to the first order of business.

"Is this your dick?"

Taehyung scrunched up his face. "No? But I don't look at my dick at that angle either."

You puffed your cheeks and turned to Jimin.

"Is this your dick?"

Jimin plucked your phone from your hand. He tilted his head to one side. Then the other.

"Lemme check."

Then he stood up and started walking to the direction of the bathroom. Still holding your device.

"Uh..."

You trailed off.

Taehyung blinked.

The bathroom door closed.

Pants unzipped.

"PARK JIMIN, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"

"You have to be kidding me, Jimin."

"Be reasonable. I can't get hard from this dick pic. Don't you want to know the owner of said dick?"

You pursed your lips and squinted at your phone, standing in Park Jimin's and Kim Taehyung's shared bathroom, because they were roommates and your friends. The mysterious discovery of said dick pic from last night's party sparked this Journey to the Dick, because it was a very impressive, intriguing, and, most importantly, inspirational specimen of the male genitalia. Clearly you had to investigate.

For science.

Which was why you were standing in the bathroom with Jimin's sweatpants off and begrudgingly getting to your knees. Begrudgingly, because...

"I thought we were supposed to be ordering pizza and watching Running Man."

"We are," Jimin answered cheerfully. "After you suck my dick."

You glanced at the photo once more.

It remained, indeed, very rousing of certain interests.

You gripped the waistband of Jimin's black boxer briefs.

Hmm...

Hold on.

You stood up suddenly and took your phone from him, sudden determination overtaking you.

"I have to do this correctly."

Jimin blinked rapidly, jumping with a yelp as you flung open the bathroom door to reveal Taehyung throwing himself into the wall, coughing awkwardly and hiding his face with his hands as you marched out purposefully. Jimin was still pants-less.

"In the proper order!"

Jimin and Taehyung shared a confused look.

"The hell does she mean, proper order?'

kim namjoon.

“Namjoon, may I look at your dick?”

Kim Namjoon looked up from his book and blinked at you over his round glasses.

“Pardon?” he replied in English.

“Your dick,” you responded in kind, in English and with succinct pronunciation. “Your penis. Your willy. Your ding-dong. Your–”

Namjoon removed a hand from his book and held it up. “My what?” he interrupted you, laughing.

Oh good, back to Korean so you didn’t have to flex all the different ways you knew how to say cock in English. “Take off your pants.”

He blinked rapidly, innocently sitting there in his flowy white button-up and brown pants. He even had suspenders. Fancy man. He had dyed his hair recently, a steel midnight blue. That’s how Namjoon was, attractive and book-smart. Absolutely won the lottery when it came to genes and brains. You couldn’t see the title of the book he was reading, but it was probably a self-help or philosophy book. He was into those nowadays, exploring the human mind, while you were more into exploring the physical aspects of humanity.

Fucking.

Luckily, fucking didn’t usually require reading.

(Usually, heh.)

“I have no objections to your proposition. I’m just confused on why so suddenly.”

You dropped your canvas tote bag on the ground. Your red, short summer dress covered in yellow lemons flared out as you shifted your weight to one hip. Your phone was in one of your hands and you waved it around like a baton as you talked.

“Aren’t I usually sudden when I want to fuck?”

Namjoon chuckled, rich and deep, shutting his book and putting it aside. Probably memorized his page number. Big sexy brain and all that jazz. A fantastic characteristic of his.

He also had a big sexy dick you were asking to see right now.

“You are, but sometimes you offer to buy me a meal or a snack first.”

“I mean, sure, if you want–”

He lifted a hand and cocked a finger towards himself, smiling. When he smiled, his dimples appeared. That was your favorite feature on Namjoon. You bounced over excitedly and sat on the couch, skirt flipping up and exposing your thighs, still holding your phone.

“I’m on a mission.”

He quirked an eyebrow, adjusting his glasses detective-style. “What kind of mission?”

You pointed to your phone. “Do you remember that party we went to, the one with the wet t-shirt contest?” You lifted your arm and flexed your rather defined bicep that made Namjoon raise his eyebrows and mouth a wow under his breath. Consistent handys really did the trick when it came to bicep muscle definition. “You remember, right? You showed off your guns.”

He burst out laughing, waving a hand. “They are not guns.”

“Sure, they are. I could do a lot of social justice with your biceps, Namjoon.”

He shook his head, grinning, dimples on full display. “And what’s with the dress? You don’t usually wear such a cute style.”

You ticked your phone to the apartment front door. “I’m meeting Seokjin later, but he said he’s going to play another round of bowling because Jungkook kicked his ass again. But anyway, back to what I was saying…”

“Ah, yes. I think I remember Jimin mentioning something to me now.”

You brightened, unlocking your phone and holding up the screen. “Right! I’m looking for the owner of this dick.”

His eyes widened and Namjoon leaned forward, readjusting his glasses again. “Wow. That’s quite a clear picture.” Then he coughed and averted his eyes.

You nodded quickly. “Well? Did you take this picture?”

He frowned and sat back against the sofa, sucking in a breath and ticking his head. “Mmm, maybe? I was pretty drunk. I don’t remember what I did…”

“Hah… Does this look like your dick, then?”

“How would I know?” he chuckled. “I don’t see my dick from that angle and I don’t have sober photoshoots with my dick.”

You pursed your lips. “Well, I suppose we’ll just have to fuck then. Drop the pants.”

The thing about Namjoon was that he was a very reasonable man. You had a problem and proposed a solution and he, an avid learner who liked searching for answers to the great mysteries of this world, had the means to help you out on your quest, so he did. In addition, he thought you were hot, you thought he was hot, and you’d already fucked a couple times before Journey to the Dick, so the mutual agreement was already there.

Splendid!

The other thing about Namjoon was that he really liked to make you work for it.

Slightly less splendid.

“Are you choking?”

You squinted at him and flipped him the bird. He was well-versed with popular Western hand gestures.

Namjoon nodded sagely. “That’s good.”

And he put his hand back onto the back of your head and shoved your mouth down onto his cock once more.

You had half a second to breathe again before air was forcefully taken from you, Namjoon now holding you there, nose-first into his crotch, sighing contentedly as he expanded in your mouth. You planted your hands onto his strong thighs and pushed, but his hand didn’t budge. The safe signal was three taps and you weren’t tapping out yet. You glared and Namjoon closed his eyes, smirking slowly.

He left his round glasses on.

‘Course he did.

Damn you, Namjoon!

You reached up and pawed at the buttons of his white shirt, making Namjoon open his eyes to see what you were doing as you unbuttoned them rather deftly for someone who had his dick filling up their throat. He looked down at you, cocking an eyebrow. You cheekily cocked one back, poking his pecs with your pinky.

He grinned. “Hm? What’s that?”

You clenched your throat around the head of his cock and he gasped, losing grip for a split second.

In that split second, you threw his shirt open, glorious his tan skin and large muscular pecs now in view, and slapped your hands down onto his thighs, instantly starting a fast, rough pace, curving your neck with every swallow, sandwiching his cock between tongue and top of your mouth, pulsing your wet muscles all over his length, staring at that well-built chest, watching the muscles ripple with his sudden, abrupt inhale.

“Oh, fuck!”

Sometimes you let Namjoon have the reigns, but this time you were on a mission, although it was a little distracting now because presently you had an unobstructed view of Kim Namjoon with his shirt open, head thrown back, midnight blue hair fanning over the sofa, his full lips open and panting, tendons in his neck tensing, broad shoulders flexed, leading down his defined chest and abs, core tight from your intense pace, thighs hard under your hands, cock swollen and thick, pulsating in your mouth. His large hands planted on top of yours, squeezing them with his.

The three taps applied to him too.

Instead, Namjoon moaned your name and gripped your hands.

“T-The picture… f-fuuuuuuuck…”

Shit, that’s right.

You reluctantly slowed, tongue swiping all over the underside of his dick, tracing the veins, moaning hotly around his cock. He lowered his chin, panting hard, dark brown eyes half-open and framed by his lovely silver glasses. It was him who reached for your phone and unlocked it. He remembered your pattern lock and you had only told him once. All your consistent fucks knew how to unlock your phone.

That’s how you had so many pictures of, ahem, good times.

He placed the phone on his hip and his head fell back against the sofa, inhaling deeply as you continued lapping at the base of the head, slowly sucking on it at the same time to keep him hard.

“Mmm, fuck, that’s nice…”

You mashed the tip of your tongue against the slit and coated it with pre-cum.

“Ah, come on, look already and compare,” Namjoon chuckled in his deep voice, raising a hand to pet your head. “Then you can finish me.”

You popped your mouth off reluctantly. “Hmm.” You placed a few fingers on his cock and looked at it, positioning it to the correct angle that matched the photo. “Huh, it’s pretty close. But you have this noticeable vein here, and I think the head of your cock is slightly different…” You squinted and brought your face rather close to his stiff length. “The skin tone seems right, but it’s not exact, and I think you’re bigger…”

Namjoon wrapped his hand around his dick and smacked your cheek with the head.

“Oi!”

You puffed your cheeks, strings of saliva and pre-cum covering your face.

He grinned, dimples on full display. “Oops.”

You jabbed your finger at your phone. “I’m doing an investigation here!”

He shrugged cheekily. “You said it wasn’t exact. Get up.”

You put your phone on top of his book on the side table and glared at him. “Well, yeah, but no need to bop me,” you grumbled, wiping your cheek with the back of your hand, standing up, and removing your panties as Namjoon reached over to his pants and pulled out a condom from the pocket.

You did say you were coming. Namjoon liked to be prepared for you.

“You said you liked it,” he mused as you straddled his lap.

“I do when I’m notin the middle of an important mission,” you huffed, picking up the hem of your dress and revealing your wet pussy, chin cocked in defiance.

“You don’t have to sit on my dick then,” he said, pausing with the condom right over his cock.

You frowned. “Hurry up.”

He cocked an eyebrow, dark brown eyes trapping you in his allure. “Doesn’t seem like you want it.”

You narrowed your eyes.

Growled.

Then you smacked his hands away and rolled down the condom yourself before sliding onto him with one swift motion, clenching your jaw at the sensation of being quickly and solidly filled up, not giving him or you time to adjust. Namjoon tensed his neck, grinning, large hands coming up to firmly grip your hips. Your own came up to grab his biceps and squeeze them, mustering up your most indignant scowl. He chuckled, smirking as you pulsed your walls around him.

“Hold your dress so I can fuck you.”

“Maybe I want to do the moving.”

He clicked his tongue and rammed his hips up into you, making you hiss at the feeling of his cock being driven into your tightness. Your nails dug into his arms, breaths shallowing into rapid gasps as he continued, firmly and roughly fucking you from below, hard thighs flexing and smacking into your inner thighs and ass.

“Hold your dress,” he repeated, voice low and commanding.

“You’re so bossy,” you muttered, reaching down with one hand to yank up your dress, pulling it up high so both you and Namjoon could watch as he very deliberately and very forcefully thrust upwards into your tight hole, smirking wider as he witnessed your expression and the strain of keeping the pleasure off your face.

“Don’t have to give orders if…” He jerked up particularly hard, hitting your sweet spot, causing you to gasp breathlessly. “You…” Smack! You bit you lip, moan trapped in your chest. “Just…” Smack!

“F-Fuck…”

“Listen.”

And then Namjoon seized your hips and fucked you hard and fast with you barely holding on his shoulder with one hand and the other clutching your dress, moaning his name shamelessly to his own face. Namjoon wasn’t a gloater. His face was serious and concentrated, brows furrowed and intent on giving maximum pleasure, maintaining clear control as you rapidly lost it, allowing and trusting him to lead you into carnal desires.

You leaned forward, hot exhale on his neck, changing the angle and letting him hit you deeper, tightening around him. You heard his breath hitch, hissing out your name. Your whispered against his jaw, close to his ear.

“You like it better when I don’t listen, Namjoon.”

So close, so close, so close.

He snickered, dark, devious, sensual.

“I dolove punishing you with my cock.”

You slid your hand into his midnight blue hair and shuddered, pleasure blooming from your core in heated throbs, savoring the intensity of the orgasm he gave you as Namjoon groaned in your ear, slamming you down onto his hard, twitching cock and moaning, spilling his own into the condom, thoroughly enjoying the vicious massage of your spasming pussy. You pressed your lips to his temple, flinching with the shivers that came after, riding out the peak by rocking your hips lightly, enjoying the fullness he gave you.

“Doesn’t seem like a punishment. I’m having a lot of fun,” you taunted, panting and mirthful.

He gave your ass a playful smack and you squeezed his length from top to bottom.

“We have time for round two,” he murmured, nibbling on your ear.

Kim Namjoon was a very reasonable man.

kim seokjin.

"Gah, fuck!"

"As a matter of fact, yes, let's."

Kim Seokjin nearly tripped and fell against the doorframe, gawking at you. His expressive brown eyes went wide, mouth open enough for a nice ice lolly to be placed between those plump lips.

"Why are you in my bed? Where are your clothes? Why are you holding Pink Bean like that?!"

You sighed exaggeratedly. Here we go. "I had a nice dress but Namjoon took it and said I can't have it back until after." You squeezed Seokjin's large Pink Bean plush that he usually kept on his bed, a fluffy representation of a boss from his favorite PC game, MapleStory. It had a bubblegum pink head, light purple horns, and a cute :3 face. You squashed it with your breasts and looked up at him, on your knees with your feet tucked under your ass, missing all your articles of clothing thanks to Kim Namjoon.

Such cute clothes only for him? I don’t think so.

Seokjin turned bright red, sputtering.

"D-D-Don't do that to Pink Bean!"

"Why not? You've fucked me from behind and I used Pink Bean as my chest support."

He strode across the room with two steps, his long legs making it easy, looking handsome and summery in his pastel yellow shirt and shorts two-piece set, flapping his hands helplessly.

"That was a special case!"

You started bouncing on Pink Bean, you and your tits. Seokjin's brown eyes nearly bulged out of his head and he actually tripped at the end of his bed, falling face-first with a high-pitched yelp.

"Seokjin, I need to see your dick."

He yanked his head up, chestnut brown hair flying everywhere, shooting you a confused glare.

"Yah! You can't just show up naked and start demanding dick while abusing Pink Bean!"

You reached up and scooped your breasts forward, squashing them between the purple horns, nipples poking out above Pink Bean's head. Seokjin looked like he was about to pass out. Probably from loss of blood to his head.

You balanced your phone in your cleavage, inspirational dick pic between your tits.

"Is this your dick, Seokjinnie?" you asked sweetly.

He started, squinting at the screen between your tits. "The heck? What is that?"

"A dick. Is it yours?"

Seokjin made a disgusted face.

"Are they really that ugly? Mine sure as hell isn't."

"Oh, so it's not? You know for sure?"

Seokjin scoffed. "Come on, there's no way that could be mine, look–"

And he sat up and yanked his shorts and underwear off, slapping them down on the floor and spreading his legs, presenting his very hard and quite pretty dick and balls. He huffed triumphantly, planting his hands in his hips.

"How could that thing compare to–gah!"

You crawled over Pink Bean, shoving the plush against your stomach and placing yourself between Seokjin's long legs, oblivious to his shriek of surprise, holding up his shirt as you compared his cock to the one on your phone.

"What the–where did you g-get that picture?!"

Your hot breath wafted over his twitching length as you held it delicately with your fingertips, ass up in the air, tilting his dick to adjust the angle so he mirrored the photo. "Remember that party with the wet t-shirt contest?” you explained nonchalantly. “The one where I said you'd totally win because of your broad shoulders, but Taehyung got more votes because he had been working out and looking all buff recently?"

Seokjin was gasping as you held up your phone. Hmm, not the same thickness. Plus, he seemed harder, sticking out straighter than this photo dick. But there was a small mole in his dick that seemed to match the picture. The length is pretty spot-on too. You scooted closer, cradling his cock with your palm and coaxing it with your fingertips, ass bouncing on Pink Bean's head.

"Oh, fuck..."

"Anyway, someone snapped this photo and I've been trying to figure out who, but everyone was drunk and, if I recall correctly, you were on a table dancing with a pool noodle and belting Kim Yonja's 'Amor Fati', so I don't think you remember much from that night."

Seokjin's voice was pitched, strained from holding back.

"I remember those... oh, fuck... those shorts you were wearing... ah, with your ass hanging out on the bottom... fuck, wanted to bend you over... but yeah, after that..."

Then you yelped when you felt his hands on your head dragging you forward and pressing your open lips to his cock.

"Ah, yeees..."

"Seokjin, wait–mphf!"

He shoved the head of his cock into your lips and looked down. You narrowed your eyes as he began to gently hump your face, filling your mouth with the hardness. You sucked in your cheeks a little, molding your mouth to him, still giving him your best annoyed face.

"Is it my dick?" he gasped, pushing deeper.

You made a confused noise and Seokjin frowned at you.

"Yes or no?"

Seriously? You held up your hand and hovered it in the air, wiggling your fingers up and down, the universal sign of–

"What do you mean, maybe?! Oh, it's because a phone camera isn't good enough to catch the majesty of my cock, is that it?"

You could had been annoyed, but then you thought about it. He brought up a good point. You hadn't considered that. Still, the shape wasn't exact though. A phone camera couldn't alter dick angle, right?

No time to think about it because Seokjin rammed his entire length into your mouth and down your throat in your moment of contemplation.

"Mmmphf!"

"Just, ah, don't move, let me fuck your face real quick–"

You didn't really expect anything less, so you pushed him down, sliding his shirt up his torso, changing the angle so you weren't straining your neck. Seokjin fell onto his elbows, hands letting go but hips still moving, groaning as you enclosed your mouth around him and rubbed your tongue all over.

"Ah, your ass is so sexy, damn, bounce it for me..."

He seemed to forget that in order to do that, you had to hump Pink Bean like a dog in heat but, hey, when the man who called himself World Wide Handsome (drunk and sober, that was the kind of man Kim Seokjin was) asks you to twerk for him, you do as you are told and give Pink Bean the best hump that plush is ever going to have.

"Fuuuuuuuck, yes, your ass is so perky and juicy, fuck, like a sweet peach..."

You tried not to choke with laughter in his dick, but the action made your throat muscles squeeze and spasm around the head, immediately making it jerk and swell at the added simulation, causing Seokjin to gasp your name and fiercely clutch his sheets.

"Fuck, yes...!"

You looked up, cocking an eyebrow, seeing his brown hair messy and fallen over his forehead, eyelids fluttering, panting as you took over the pace, firmly enveloping him all the way to the base, sandwiching him between your tongue and roof of your mouth, dragging the head over the slick wetness, pulsing expertly around his hardness. His dainty pink tongue flitted over his lips and made them glisten, full, plump, sexy as hell.

"I'm so glad Namjoon took your clothes," he wheezed.

This guy really said whatever thought that popped into his handsome head.

You smirked around his cock and wiggled your eyebrows.

Then you grabbed his hips and really gave it to him, fast and tight, angling your head so he slid into your throat deeply and easily, sending Seokjin into a sputter of curses, prayers, and blessings to who-knew-what, gripping fistfuls of his sheets and throwing his head back, beautiful neck on display and broad shoulders flexed, moaning loudly.

You almost stopped, awed by his perfectly sensual posture.

Then Seokjin thrust his crotch into your lips and gasped your name, shooting down your throat in swift, tense jolts, forcing you to stop staring at him and hurriedly gulp it all down, squeezing your eyes shut so you could concentrate, sucking in a short breath, and making him yelp, flinching to cram more of the head into your constricting throat.

You prodded his stomach sharply and drew an ‘X’, telling him to stop so you could swallow.

“B-But…”

You gave him a bunch of other hand gestures and none of them were nice. It contrasted the way you were lapping at his cock, coaxing him back to full hardness with soft tongue and delicate pushes against the roof of your mouth. He lifted one of his hands and started messing with yours, the one on his stomach making obscene hand signals. You felt him try and grab your fingers, poke at your palm, and, finally, grab your hand and tug it up, shoving your fingers into his mouth.

You popped your mouth off his cock in surprise. “Hey!”

Seokjin looked at you with giant brown eyes like a dog caught with a treat in his mouth. “Mmphf?”

You made a confused face at him.

His tongue started sliding between them, licking your joints and pads of your fingers, wiggling all around, covering you with his saliva and sending shivers over your skin at the strange sensation. You could feel the power in that squirming muscle, his brown eyes watching your reaction, your own eyes fixated on the way it looked, three of your fingers surrounded and crammed into those lush, soft, pillow-like lips, squirming, sensual tongue slipping between them, dripping saliva down your palm and back of your hand.

“H-Hey…”

It was bizarre, feeling an odd juxtaposition of the submissive nature of the act, and yet he was deliberate and forceful about it, staring pointedly as the tip of his tongue snaked out from the side of his lips, licking the side of your pinky.

“S… Seokjin…?”

He reached up and pulled your hand out of his mouth, the pads of your fingers dragging on his lower lip, wet streaks of saliva painted down his chin.

The ghost of a smirk on his open mouth, eyebrow ticking arrogantly.

You blinked at him, unaware that you were clutching Pink Bean with your other hand so hard that your knuckles were white.

Then Seokjin grinned and wrapped your wet hand around his dick and started jacking himself off with it.

“Hey! I want that in me!”

“What? Gah!”

Somehow, you convinced him to fuck you – read: threw Seokjin down on his own bed, put a condom on him, rolled him back on top of you and guided his cock to your pussy before grabbing his ass and yanking down, making you both gasp as he entered you with one smooth stroke, your back on top of Pink Bean.

Pink Bean was really seeing a lot of your naked body today, just like Kim Seokjin.

“F-Fuck– yah!”

That was his noise of protest as you yanked his yellow shirt over his head, throwing it as far as you could, out his still open bedroom door.

“Sorry, needed to get rid of useless things.”

“I like that shirt!”

You grabbed onto his wide shoulders and rolled your hips up into his crotch, wrapping your thighs around his waist and squeezing. He sputtered at the intense feeling of your pussy wrapping around him, arms shaking to hold himself up, brown hair messy and wild over his forehead, brown eyes wide in indignation.

“Sorry, my bad, I’ll pick it up after I get another out of this magnificent dick,” you quipped.

Seokjin turned red, unaccustomed to someone other than himself complimenting him.

“Why are you hanging onto me like a monkey – oh my God…!”

You used his mattress and Pink Bean to bounce up and down on his dick from below, fingers tangled in his hair, wetly smacking your hips into his crotch, panting his name into his ear, your cock feels so fucking good, love the way you fill me, fuck me up, Seokjin, giving him the praise that he wanted and that breathless moan he liked, the one where you added a bit of underlying mischievous depth, pulling back one of your hands and tracing his plush lips, his mouth opening and pink tongue lolling out, puling you into that wetness, locking his gaze with yours.

Soft and tight around two of your fingers as you slapped your hips into his, losing a bit of your power now that a hand was occupied, intense sparks shooting from your fingertips to your core, his tongue sliding sensually between them, your juices leaking out, getting wetter and wetter, head emptying and replaced with sinful pleasure as you stared into those dark brown orbs with blown-out pupils, sparkling eyes smiling at you.

Seokjin took over and started fucking you into his mattress (and Pink Bean).

Both of you completely forgot about the dick pic.

min yoongi.

"Ah, fuck, I forgot, I need to see your dick, f-fuck!"

"It's," Smack! "A," Smack! "Little," Smack! "Busy at the moment."

"Yoongi!"

The bed shifted and hit the wall.

"Oh no," came the most unbothered oh no behind you.

"Your damn neighbors are going to complain again," you hissed, planting your hands on the mattress and lifting your upper body up a little to scowl at him. "They're so annoying."

"Yeah, that's why I like fucking you," Min Yoongi snickered, looking back with his curly black mullet in complete disarray, smirking lips dark and swollen from making out. He raised an eyebrow at your displeased expression, dark brown eyes flashing. "Something wrong? Not rough enough for you?"

You narrowed your eyes. "I need to see your dick when it's fully hard."

He raised his eyebrows. "Sure. After this one."

"Yoongi–"

He cut you off. "Hand," he ordered.

You extended your left hand out back to him and he grabbed your forearm, long fingers gripping tightly, before proceeding his railing of your pussy from behind, your ass smacking into his crotch repeatedly.

"Yoongi – ah, oof!"

You slipped and fell face first into his pillows, gasping at the altered depth of each thrust, hard and deliberate, filling you up as you clenched around him, following his rhythm by pushing back with your hips and moaning as Yoongi slowly built up the pace, bottoming out each time.

"Why do you need to see my dick?" he asked nonchalantly as if he wasn't pounding you with it right this very second.

"Because, oh fuck, someone left a, fuck, Yoongi, yes, dick pic on my phone, aaah, right there, fuck, you're so fucking good, that night of the party, the one with the wet t-shirt c-contest, fuck, Yoongi, I love your dick so much, fuck!"

"Why would I do that?" he grunted, spanking your ass with his free hand and making you claw at his sheets, pain seeping into the pleasure and amplifying it, skin prickling hot, causing the excessive dripping between your joined legs. The headboard was now repeatedly smacking the wall.

"I dunno, you were drunk too, do you remember, mmm, yes, harder, yeah, like that, telling Taehyung you loved him and that he was your favorite little alien child?"

Behind you, you heard Yoongi choke slightly in embarrassment.

"No, I do not..."

"See, maybe you jacked off and snapped a memoir on my phone."

Yoongi let go of your arm and firmly gripped your ass with two hands.

"Memoirs are written."

"Maybe if they wrote their name, I wouldn't be on this journey – ah, Yoongi!"

You grabbed fistful of sheets and snapped yourself back up, your hair messy and cascading down your shoulders, meeting every vicious slap of Yoongi's hips to yours, his balls hitting your soaked clit and sending stings of satisfaction from your core to your limbs, so good, moaning his name, his growl of yours punctuated by his nails digging into your ass, give it to me, come on, and you fucked him back, pressing your palms into his sheets and feeling the shuddering ecstasy again and again, deep pulses tightening around his hardness, making him groan with want.

"One more, one more, I'm so fucking close, fuck..."

"You've been close, you're holding back, you're a dick, ow!"

Yoongi smacked your ass particularly hard and you clenched your core so tight that he gasped and probably delayed his orgasm even further.

"You're the one asking to see it," he panted, adjusting the angle to shove you further into his bed even though it wasn't possible, and continued his relentless assault in your pussy.

"If anyone has a nice dick, it's you, you bas... fuuuuuuuck, Yoongi, yes, I'm gonna c-cum, fuck!"

The pleasure shot through you like lightning, waves of tortuous triumph as you clutched his pillow and screamed his name into it, your juices leaking out from around his pumping cock and splattering onto his crotch and inner thighs, drenching his balls, saturating his skin with your sweet scent, Yoongi moaning your name and squeezing your ass as he fully sheathed himself in your shaking walls and exploded into the condom, his whole length twitching and shivering inside your spasming pussy, your ass prickling on pain, both of you gasping for air.

Someone on the other side of the wall was banging it and told you two to shut the fuck up, or at least you assumed that's what that muffled yelling was.

You and Yoongi ignored it.

"Are you... hah... okay?" Yoongi panted, rubbing your ass and kneading it.

"Of course, I am, what do you take me for, an amateur?" you chuckled, lifting your head, your breathing erratic and uneven. "Now let me see your dick, Yoongi."

The other side of the wall kept swearing. Very colorful, very loud, very upsetti in the spaghetti.

Poor thing must not be getting laid regularly.

"Fuck, fine, you know I like staying in there at least for a little while..." he grumbled, holding the condom down as you untangled yourself from his body, sighing exaggeratedly as you turned around and yanked it off. You tossed it into the trashcan that was already beside the bed.

Yoongi had the foresight to be prepared for a night with you.

"I don't have to leave soon. We have plenty of time."

The shouting through the wall seemed to have given up, kicking it once and swearing very heatedly before stomping off.

"You better not. I'm not finished with you."

You picked up your phone and unlocked it, opening your photo gallery, pushing Yoongi down so you could wrap your fingers around his slick, semi-hard cock. It throbbed contentedly in your hand as you began to move it up and down in smooth, tight strokes, flexing your fingers to add variation in the stimulation.

"Mmm, fuck, yeah, faster..."

You pulled the photo up and put your phone on the bed beside his hip and calmly continued your movements, looking down at him, him and fair-skinned cheeks with a slight fluffiness to them, him and his lightly upturned upper lip that gave him a cat-like appearance, him and his lowered lashes over black-brown orbs that held quiet, sensual intelligence. His hair was messy from fucking you so hard, but he was effortlessly sexy regardless, leaning back on his elbows, torso lifted to watch your hand. Yoongi noticed you staring and raised an eyebrow, wispy black strands grazing his dark brow.

“What?”

You smiled.

“Just thinking you’re really hot, Yoongi.”

He cringed slightly, ears turning pink and shifted his eyes away, closing them. Your own roamed down, down his defined shoulders and toned arms and chest, sucking in a breath at the sight, that slim waist and pretty hips, his cock filling up your hand, getting harder and harder, the head getting darker from sensitivity, the slickness of the lube and his own cum making it easier for you and better for him. Your other hand traced his side, running your nails over it and you heard his low moan, raising your head and your eyes found his. He was observing you again, glancing from the photo to you, the corner of his lips tugging upwards, ticking his head to the screen.

“That it?”

You ran your nails over his skin, just the way he liked it, light, pressing in a little when it came to the upper side of his hip, seeing his pupils expand and his breathing shallow, pink tongue licking his lips slowly.

“Yeah,” you replied breathlessly.

You increased the pace, pumping him from base to head, entranced by Yoongi’s expression, desire and cockiness despite becoming unraveled in your hands, his lower body trembling under you, your thighs pressed to his tense ones, tempting you to sit on and rub yourself all over them.

“Pretty dick.”

Slap, slap, slap. Hand on wet cock, sending shivers through you and through him.

“That’s why it could be yours.”

You saw his cheeks flush light pink, but he didn’t look away. Instead, he made piercing eye contact.

“Stop.”

You gasped sharply and ceased all movement, feeling his rigid stiffness pulse against your palm.

“Look,” Yoongi commanded in that low, raspy voice of his.

You bit your lip and removed your hand, strings of fluids snapping between your fingers and his hot, taut skin. His cock was so hard that it was sticking straight up, dark and imposing, twitching slightly. Long pale fingers picked up your phone and held it next to his erection.

“Well?” he chuckled.

You chewed on your lip, squinting at the screen. Reached over and ran your wet fingers over his twitching length, hearing Yoongi hiss and gasp at your touch as you angled his dick to match up with the photo. Surprisingly, it wasn’t that difficult – the position seemed to match up perfectly. He was a little taller and thicker though. The shape of the head was similar, but also a bit off. The skin tone wasn’t quite correct either, the red-purple with subtly differing undertones. Still, lighting might affect that kind of detail. It wasn’t like you knew where this picture was taken.

“Hm… It’s really close, but not an exact match.”

“Well, damn.”

Yoongi tossed your phone aside carelessly, hand reaching out and you bent down, already knowing what he wanted, lips to lips, sliding against his body. You loved the way he kissed. Intense but soft, hand on your jaw and thumb caressing your cheek, nail grazing your earlobe, whispering into your lips, put me between your thighs, and you shifting up, closing your thighs around his wet cock, his lustful sigh and smirk on your lips, slowly thrusting in between your legs.

“Tighter.”

You hooked your ankles, one over the another and squeezed.

“Mmm, fuck yes, you’re so good…”

His words reminded you of the first time, crammed into the backseat of a small car, snuck out of a party to have Min Yoongi pull you into his grasp, tongue and lips all over you, your arms over his shoulders, wondering what you were doing because this kind of guy wasn’t your type, quiet, yes, a music nerd, yes, however he knew what he was doing, light bites on you skin making you gasp and slide down his jean-covered thigh, delicious friction to your soaked panties, tipping your head back to give that decadent mouth more access to your throat.

Your phone vibrated in your back pocket. A certain someone was probably wondering where you were.

“Yoongi, how… fuck, yes, how are you so good… you’re so good…”

His deep voice over your vocal cords, vibrating them with his seductive tone.

“DND your phone,” he purred, drawing a line down your throat with his tongue, coating you with his saliva, his musky, woody cologne transferring to your shivering skin.

“What…?” you panted, unable to think straight.

He plucked it out of your back pocket, tapping it against your arm.

“Put it on do not disturb and I’ll make you cum so hard that you’ll be coming back to me all the time.”

You fumbled with your phone, strong hands scooping out your breasts from your top, those lips sinking into your cleavage and tongue ghosting over your nipples, moaning as you dropped it, ignoring Park Jimin’s text, lost in those skillful hands and that expert mouth that eventually kissed down to your pussy and drove you crazy, but not before setting your skin on fire and making you beg for it.

“Yoongi…”

His lips on yours, his eyes and your eyes both half-open, marveling at the way his lashes adorned those black brown orbs and the way he looked at you, drunk on lust and your body.

“You want me?”

Hands on your hips, grinding you down on his thigh, teasing you. He wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type, he wasn’t your type… so why, why did that sly, knowing gaze do things to you? Why did it make your heartbeat stutter and your juices seep into the denim of his jeans, so turned on that you didn’t want anything else right now but Min Yoongi?

It just didn’t make any sense.

“Y… Yeah…”

That smirk.

“I know you do.”

You did end up coming back all the time.

He was very good and it wasn’t just his mouth.

Yoongi backed up and smirked, open-mouthed, mischievous, so fucking hot that you felt your pussy throb at the mere sight, his warm, pulsing length still jammed between your soft, closed thighs.

“You wanna ride my dick?”

You grinned. “Thought you’d never ask.”

You completely forgot about the photo and spent the rest of the night on Yoongi’s cock and ignoring the yelling from his neighbors.

jung hoseok.

“Hoseokie…”

Teeth on your ear, a dexterous, teasing tongue flicking your earrings, your name coming out of that heart-shaped smile in a low, sultry whisper that contrasted it.

“You can’t come here looking like this and not expect me to want to ruin you,” Jung Hoseok purred into your ear, sending shivers down your spine.

Your lips curved into a smile.

You were on your knees, spread out a little, short black minidress hiked up your thighs, facing the mirrors of the dance studio. Hoseok knelt behind you, hands travelling all over your body. Deft fingers, neatly manicured nails, his sharp jaw grazing your shoulder, pulling down the thin straps. Your large hoodie was tossed to the side, scattered onto the hardwood floor in haste. The frosted door of Smile Hoya’s rented dance studio space was locked, hip-hop music blaring loudly, and in the center was you and Hoseok.

You knew he could hear your shuddering exhale well, already attuned to the sounds of your pleasure.

He smirked and kissed the top of your ear, yanking down the top of your dress.

It wasn’t like this the first time.

“Ah, well, I was hoping… wondering, ah… I don’t know how to say…?”

You were in his bedroom at the time, confused. “Yoongi said you wanted to talk to me about something? What is it, Hoseok?”

He had been very nervous, somewhat shaky, staring into your eyes. You reached over and squeezed his hand, tilting your head. He took a moment to speak, hiding his brown eyes under his blond hair.

“Uh, well, I was talking to hyung and I mentioned I… I feel like I have to put up a front sometimes. Because I’m so happy and stuff. Women expect me to be like that… in bed… And he suggested that maybe you could help me… chill out, but, uh, that’s really rude to say, ah, I shouldn’t have–”

He tried to yank his hand out of yours in panic but you held on, tugged forward by his movement. Hoseok squeaked, ears turning red, freezing in place.

“Hey.”

You held his hand and patted it with your free one, smiling gently.

“I absolutely can help you chill out when it comes to sex. What do you want to know? What do you want to do? I’ll teach you.”

You noticed his expression change from panic to worry, chewing on his lip.

“N… No, you misunderstand… It’s not having sex, I…”

He trailed off, suddenly silent. You frowned slightly, nudging him. Hoseok cleared his throat and looked you dead in the eye.

“I’m not nice.”

Now he squeezed your hand tightly, breathing in your scent.

“Or rather, I don’t want to be nice when I fuck. Sometimes I want to let go and just…” He frowned, not seeming to know the word.

You leaned in, whispering in his ear.

“Fuck?”

“Yeah, I just… don’t want to think about an image I have to uphold.”

You grinned. “Yoongi did direct you to the right woman.”

His blond hair was even lighter now, the tips dyed with navy, a soft, sexy contrast to his rich tan skin. This was now many, many fucks later, hooking up at parties, at random times at his apartment, and now at the space he rented to practice dance on his own. Hoseok liked to freestyle and feel the music. When he fucked, he liked to feel the moment.

His hands gripped your breasts and squeezed, sandwiching your nipples between his index and middle finger, tugging hard.

You gasped in his hands, just what he wanted, open-mouthed smirk and all.

“Hoseok… I have to… ah, ask you something…”

He shoved his hips into your back and you gasped at the thinness of his shorts, rubbing his hardening cock against the top of your ass. A brown orb watched you through the mirror and he was smiling that brilliant, heart-shaped smile, contrasting his forceful touch.

“What do you want to ask?” he chirped cheerfully, pinching your nipples and twisting them.

You moaned, savoring the swift, firm pain followed by the pads of his fingers rubbing the tips of your nipples, grinding your ass onto his stiff length. Your phone was in your right hand. You bit your lip, seeing him watch you carefully in the mirror. You raised the phone and unlocked it.

“Is this your dick?”

You noticed Hoseok pause and squint. You turned your phone and held at up so he could get a good look. His hands were still on your tits, although he had paused the moment to view the image, blinking rapidly at it.

“When was this taken?” He tilted his head, looking confused.

“The party with the wet t-shirt contest? The–”

“One where Yoongi grabbed Taehyung and told him he was his favorite alien child?”

“Oh? You do remember?”

Hoseok winced, as if the events of the night haunted him. “I remember… not much after that…”

“Oh…” You faltered. “So you wouldn’t remember if you took this picture on my phone, huh?”

“No, sorry.”

“Then… can I see it?”

He grinned. “You have to earn it.”

Earning it could mean anything.

Today, earning it meant cumming at least three times with Hoseok’s fingers before he even let you take off his shorts.

“H-Hoseok…!”

He always smelled so good, so fucking good, orange and musk complemented with the barely-there vanilla sweetness, a scent that always seemed to linger on your skin afterward. His lips were on your neck, leaving small bites, chuckling darkly. One hand on your nipple, the other between your legs, your dress bunched at the waist and your panties at your knees, not letting you take any of it off, forcing you to watch yourself as he wrecked you, teasing your oversensitive clit with his fingertips, slick and slippery, thighs shaking from the second orgasm and coaxing you to the third, sharp throbs of lust causing your eyes to roll back, head falling against his shoulder.

“Hoseok, p-please…”

He had no trouble holding onto you, flexible and strong, and you were grinding your hips down, lost in the feeling, leaking everywhere because he hadn’t actually put his fingers inside you yet, teasing you and teasing you and teasing you, driving you crazy, please put your fingers inside me, please Hoseok, your name murmured gently in your ear, no, not until the third time, and then I’m going to put my cock in you once you’ve shown me how good of a girl you are, and you were going to lose your mind, shivering in continued ecstasy, squirming in his hands, your own reaching back and fisting his hair and white shirt, moans masked by the loud music, so close, so close, your perfume mixing with his, sex and cologne, shivers and heat, teeth on your ear and circles rubbed onto your aching nerves.

Shallow gasps.

Peaking pleasure.

Seeing nothing but black, eyelids fluttering, wanton moans torn from your throat.

The song ended.

Hoseok removed his hand from your nipple and covered your mouth, muffling your scream as you came, taking your air and your sanity, pleasure rocketing up your core, crying out with need for something, anything, inside you, pushing your hips back into his crotch, feeling his cock swell at your bouncing ass, desperate for him.

The music began again.

Now you were on your hands and knees, suddenly released, gasping for breath, legs shaking from the aftershocks.

“Look.”

Turning around, your shaking hands pulling down his shorts hurriedly, still wearing your black dress and panties around your knees, hardly registering the inconvenience, not caring, completely focused on the semi-hard length in front of your face. No time. Hoseok gave you no time, grabbing your face and dragging your open mouth to him, sliding into your lips, his oversized shirt touching your nose, you whimpering at the hotness and tautness of his velvet skin. The fullness invaded your throat, taking your breath away. He buried himself all the way in before yanking his shirt up and over his head, tossing it aside with his vest that was shed earlier, far too hot now, looking down at you through his lashes.

“Don’t choke.”

Hand in your hair, pushing you down, not letting you move as he rolled his hips into your face, the head rubbing against the rood of your mouth and your tongue pushing it up to make it tighter for him, taking him deeper, hazy and intoxicated on orange, musk and vanilla. His other hand held your phone up, unlocking it with ease.

Smirk on those lips, heart-shaped and teasing. “So? Is it mine?”

You whined, not wanting him out of your mouth.

“Your choice,” Hoseok chuckled, tone light and unassuming, the edge of danger only visible in those sparkling brown eyes. “Find out or I’ll cum in your mouth and not in that pretty pussy of yours I’m looking at right now.”

Right, because you were bent over, ass facing the mirror, wetness dripping down your inner thighs.

Fuck.

You backed up, growling, glaring at the picture you knew all too well now.

“Well?”

Fine, fine, fine, you were on this fucking Journey to the Dick, and it was starting to feel more like an annoying side mission than the actual main storyline, but, whatever, you reached up and angled Hoseok’s cock slightly, sucking in a breath with him as you looked from phone screen to the delicious real-life specimen. Hm, okay. Similar in length and color. Not in angle though. Shit. And not in width either, barely a hair slimmer and the vein placement was more prominent on Hoseok’s length than this dick.

“Fuck, it’s really fucking close but I don’t think it’s yours.”

“Shit,” Hoseok sighed, turning your phone off and tossing it onto his discarded shirt. “Oh well.”

You narrowed your eyes, pouting. “What kind of react–gah!”

Hoseok pushed you down onto the ground, pushing his shorts down to his knees and pulling out a condom from the pocket, cocking a brow. You sputtered, trying to untangle yourself from the labyrinth of your own clothes, but only managed to kick off your panties before he got the condom rolled down and pushed your legs up, lifting your ass completely off the floor.

“Can’t have this pretty ass on this dirty floor,” he snickered, lifting himself higher, bending you in half, almost on your upper back, nearly uncomfortable, but Hoseok was stronger than he looked, and when he gave you what you needed, you instantly forgot about the discomfort.

“Oooh, fuck, Hoseok!”

He plunged into you, into hot wet tightness, stretching you out easily from the previous wetness, clit throbbing as he smacked his hips down, his balls slapping against your ass, drawing out another moan as his fingers brushed your clit, making you spasm and clench around his cock as he teased the overstimulated bundle of nerves.

“Fuck, yes, so tight, so wet, so desperate for a cock to fill this hole, aren’t you?” he purred, still so sweet but with such dirty words, so handsome with his blond hair and navy tips, heart-shaped smirk and glittering eyes, and the way he said your name, dainty and serene, slowly thrusting into you, but so hard, he was so hard from being inside you, completely consumed by the physicality of the act and no longer the same man who had been worrying about how you would perceive him.

That seemed ages ago now.

Your hands reached up between your legs, running your fingers through his hair, completely forgetting about the photo of the mysterious dick and focused on the one thrusting between your legs, smiling up at him, those brown eyes and lovely jaw.

“You’re so good, Hoseok, so fucking good to me, fuck, harder, yes, ah…”

Both of you forgot about the music, fucking through the pause between them, hoping that everyone else was too busy with their own choreography to think about the hot gasps and moans exchanged between you and him in the middle of the room, the act reflected in the wall of mirrors, the slap of skin-on-skin echoing off the walls, your name and his name in breathless whispers, tight and full and hot and wet and soaring on sky-high pleasure, climbing altitude and running out of oxygen.

“Fuck, gonna cum, fuck–”

“Ah, Hoseok, yes…”

Tip, free-fall, you clamping a hand over Hoseok’s mouth and his hand over yours, screaming into each other’s palms at the intensity and the force of orgasm, smacking your hips together and holding them there, feeling his cock twitch inside you and your shivering walls clamp around him in rough, intense pulses.

It took a moment to disembark from the euphoric high.

“Hah… we should… probably not fuck here…” he gasped, falling a little, cradling your ass so it didn’t directly touch the floor.

“I’d fuck you anywhere, so that’s your fault. You need to be the voice of reason.”

He laughed, rich and infectious, and you grinned, holding his head against your breasts and hugging him tightly.

park jimin.

“I hate you.”

“Come on, Jimin.”

"I was supposed to be first!"

"Oh my God, are we going on about this again?!"

"You were supposed to suck MY dick first!"

"Stop being a fucking brat, Park Jimin!"

"No!"

You tackled him and you both fell to the floor, rolling into a mess of giant t-shirts, fierce kisses and your hands in his now red hair, fiery and hot-headed like he was being right now.

"You little–"

"Don't you dare call me little!"

"I was gonna call you a little shithead but if you wanna be a big shithead, that's fine with me!"

He pinned you down and you grabbed his waist with your legs and rammed your crotch into his black shorts, making him gasp in horny pain and crumple into his laundry that you were supposed to help him fold, but instead you were wrestling and he was complaining about not getting his dick sucked.

It was your turn to pin him down with your arms and your thighs, Jimin seeing stars as he struggled to breathe from your lower belly smacking his erection the wrong way.

"Why, ack, why did you run off saying there's a proper order?" he choked out, choking harder as your panty-covered mound sat down on his length and started rubbing up and down, smirking down at him, his red hair flaring out on his cream rug.

"'Cause there is," you replied, calm and cool.

"Order of what? Order of how you fucked us?"

"Nah, I fucked Yoongi first, remember? At that party, ages ago..." you hummed, extending the expanse of your movement, sliding up and down his thighs, his plush lips open and moaning softly, his grip on your large t-shirt tightening. It was actually his, because neither you nor Jimin knew the meaning of keeping your clothes on.

"Yeah, in my car!"

"Eh, you were drunk and playing pool with Taehyung, which, by the way, he mad cheated and you didn't even notice."

"Fuck!"

You weren't sure if that exclamation was related to your teasing or Taehyung cheating, but Jimin removed one of his hands from your shirt and flipped off the wall, in the direction of Taehyung's room.

Ah, so not you.

"Is it age order? But Namjoon isn't the oldest..." Jimin refuted himself, frowning.

"He’s first because he's kind of like the leader of you guys, isn't he? You all end up listening to his reasoning anyway."

Jimin squinted, pouting. "That's just because his tall and smart and has a fatty IQ."

You grinned. "148."

Jimin looked very annoyed that you remembered the exact number.

“I never thought about it, but other than that, it is age order, huh?” you mused, bouncing on his dick.

He shuddered with satisfaction, rolling his hips into you. “Then why would you…?”

You shrugged. “Your names sound good together like that. Kim Namjoon, Kim Seokjin, Min Yoongi, Jung Hoseok, Park Jimin, Kim Taehyung, Jeon Jungkook…”

Jimin added your name last with an amused smirk. You bit your lower lip, cocking an eyebrow and sporting a devious smile, leaning down. Lips to lips, a soft sigh, remembering that night, stumbling out of Jimin’s car and tangled in Yoongi’s touch, still kissing Yoongi with your ass on the hood of the car. Jimin had been annoyed at you then too, how could you fuck him first and not me, Yoongi laughing in that raspy, sexy way of his, because I asked, dumbass, Jimin grabbing your face and kissing you right in front of Yoongi, the older man clicking his tongue and squeezing your ass tighter, unimpressed.

In some ways, that night started off the chain reaction of hey, why not me?

Okay, maybe you did have some frustrations about your dating life and ended up tumbling into their beds for, ahem, emotional support, but in your defense, they were all great when it came to emotional support.

“Sit on my face.”

“That’s not the angle of the dick pic though.”

“Then just take the pic from that position. That’s how it was taken, right?”

Sometimes, Park Jimin was a damn genius.

He was great at eating pussy too.

“Ah, fuuuck, Jimin…”

A little messy at first, humming approvingly at your taste, thrusting his tongue into you and moaning as your muscles closed in on it, your slick nectar painting those beautiful, soft lips, him pressing them to your heat, lewd kisses, tongue swiping up and down.

“Gotta clean you up so you can dirty me up,” he breathed, tracing sensual patterns in between your thighs with his tongue, small nips to make you whine, his hands on your ass, moaning into your pussy as your kiss came into contact with his rigid cock, dripping saliva and licking it back up, gyrating your tongue at the tip and licking off the pre-cum, savoring the taste, strong and almost sweet.

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was frustrated with you.

“Fuck, give it to me.”

His hands on your ass, pushing you down, setting your pussy flush onto his lips, blocking off his airway and moaning hotly, desperate, needy, wanting your noises as you swallowed him, his length swelling in your mouth at the wet encasement, swirling your tongue all around.

You’re so mean. I can’t believe you wouldn’t ask me first, get on your knees, come on, aren’t you sorry?

You weren’t, not even in the slightest bit sorry for fucking Yoongi in his car, but you had enjoyed his little pout and twinge of jealousy, kisses up his muscular thighs, the same thighs you were clutching right now, one hand tucking your hair behind your ear, remembering his hand on the back of your head, pushing you down on his cock, the same cock you buried all the way into the back of your throat, blocking your own ability to breathe, suffocating on it as Jimin groaned, coming back up for air, rushing exhale washing over your skin before returning to his work on your clit, rapid, intense licks that shimmered pleasure through your veins.

Jimin made you choke on his dick after the Yoongi incident, but you were the one in control of it now, rutting the head against your throat muscles, feeling it get harder and harder. He always felt so good in your mouth, recalling him saying once, I just really like getting my dick sucked, shut up and stop shaming me, tongue and lips and saliva, remembering how much he liked it when you held the base and focused on the tip, his muffled whines getting more intense and vibrating your core, making sure to pop your lips over the bottom of the head every time you came up and then pressing them tightly as you went back down, doing it all at that fast, suffocating pace that made him stop licking you to throw his head back and moan, loud lust radiating off the walls, not caring about disturbing anyone, too absorbed into your pace to be considerate.

“F-Fuck, yeah, just like that, fuck, you’re so good…”

Jimin was part of the reason you were good.

He really liked getting his dick sucked. Your mouth was one of his favorites and usually readily available.

Win-win.

“Faster, fuck, oh, shit, I’m gonna cum, mmmphf!”

He grabbed your ass and smothering himself with your pussy, body trembling under you as his cock jerked and shot into your throat, your lips closing in, sucking hard to drink his cum, his moans filling your wet hole and tongue all over your clit, furiously licking as you rubbed the twitching head into the roof of your mouth, his hips squirming at the overstimulation, but his violent grip and nails digging into your ass was telling you to do it, telling you he loved it, telling you he needed it, begging you to do what you did best, gulping around the head and then jamming it into your throat, cutting off your air.

He sucked on your clit, hard, whining so loud that you could feel it in his chest and racing heartbeat pressed against your lower belly, almost lifting your lower half with his upper body alone, showing off his strength from dancing. You angled your head, taking as much as you could, nose in his balls, whimpering around his cock and the snap of orgasm making your entire body flinch, leaking all over his face and into his mouth, his nose buried into your pussy, tongue soothing your throbbing clit, wave after intense wave, barely breathing, lightheaded with pleasure, clutching his thighs tightly, naked bodies suddenly dirty, surrounded by clean laundry.

Jimin yanked his head out from between your legs, panting in satisfaction, diving back in to shove his tongue on your quivering hole and scoop out your orgasm, sucking it out to drink it, murmuring your name into your slick juices.

“You taste so fucking good, fuck…”

You came up for air, gasping, tongue lolling out, holding his cock and rubbing the slit against your wet muscle. His stiff length twitched, still hard because of your mouth.

“Take the picture, mmm, yes, did you forget?” Jimin gasped into your pussy.

You fumbled with your phone beside his leg, still reeling from orgasm and Jimin’s continued ministrations, putting it in selfie mode and seeing the lower half of your face, chin shiny with saliva, his cum dripping off your lower lip, his cock in front of your face and naked chest, your breasts pressed into his abs.

You thought about licking off the visible cum, but then you decided against it, snapping the photo with your tongue hovering close to his rock-hard erection.

You knew the composition of the inspirational dick pic now, so you brought it up in a photo editing app, putting the two side by side while wrapping your lips around the head of Jimin’s cock, sucking it leisurely like a lollipop. He didn’t ask you to get off.

Instead, he planted your pussy into his face and suffocated himself with it again.

You studied the two photos. Hm. Firstly, yours was much sexier. No offense to white t-shirt, blue jeans, and black boxer briefs guy, but your glistening cum-covered lips and squashed tits in the background of the cock made the photo eons better than his. Jimin would definitely be asking for yours later. Anyway, back to the picture. Hmm. Jimin’s dick was slightly shorter and straighter, with a warmer skin tone to his purple-red tip, although the head shape was spot on. Was that possible to have a different length but almost identical head shapes? Did dicks work that way? Did Jimin have an equally sexy twin brother or doppelganger somewhere?

Hm, a threesome with basically two Jimins would be hot as hell.

He patted your leg and you climbed off him, sighing as you rolled over and pursed your lips, concluding that his wasn’t the mystery dick. Once again, close, but no dick. Wait. That wasn’t the saying. Eh, whatever.

“Fuck, send me that photo later, I’m gonna jack off to it.”

You laughed, feeling him crawl beside you and roll you onto your stomach, pinning you down with his naked body. “You wanna jack it to your own dick?”

He was rubbing said dick into the crevice of your ass cheeks now, using your saliva was lube. “Fuck yeah I wanna jack it to my own dick with your lips covered with my cum and your titties on my stomach, sounds fuckin’ hot.”

“You’re such a pervert, Jimin.”

“And you aren’t?”

The front door slammed shut. There was a loud yell of your name in deep baritone.

“Aw, hell no, I’m getting it in this pussy first, I got time before he comes to collect,” Jimin growled, reaching into his discarded shorts and ripping open a condom, scrambling off you and rolling it down his still-hard length, grabbing one of your legs.

You shifted to your side, glaring at him. “What am I, taxes?”

The deep voice called your name again, asking where you were.

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer though, because Jimin thrust into you and you ended up moaning Kim Taeyang’s name to inform him of your whereabouts, causing Jimin to bend over and fuck you hard and rough.

“I can’t believe you would moan his name like that with my dick inside you,” Jimin growled, looking far too cute to actually be pissed at you. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’ll be sore for him.”

Everything about Jimin was sweet, even when he was firmly fucking you into his floor and making you yelp as Taehyung burst the door open, sighing at the scene.

“Who would have fucking guessed what you two are doing…”

kim taehyung.

"You're so fucking stubborn."

"Wow, that's really rude, I don't make comments about your–"

"Shut up, I'm deleting his number."

You narrowed your eyes and frowned, sitting with one leg bent on Kim Taehyung's bed. He was currently in possession of your phone, clicking his tongue and pressing buttons on the screen.

"When someone tells you to leave them alone, you leave them alone," he scolded.

You cowered slightly, eyes shifting. "I was only asking if he was doing anything this weekend... I didn't have any ulterior motives..."

Taehyung squinted. You deliberately avoided his gaze. He sighed, crossing his arms. You were still wearing Jimin's shirt with nothing underneath so, uh, maybe he had good reason to be suspicious.

"You have a virgin kink."

You choked on nothing. "What, no, I don't–"

Taehyung reached over to his desk and put on the thin, gold-framed glasses he kept there. He tilted his head and raised an eyebrow. You abruptly stopped talking and gawked at him, breathless at the way his dark brown orbs were bordered by gold and his long, black-brown hair, the rest tied back in a small ponytail.

"And a glasses kink."

He took them off and you sucked in a tight breath, grimacing.

"That's why you keep going after these kinds of guys," Taehyung tutted, neatly folding the specs and placing them back on his desk. "And why you bonked Namjoon-hyung so fast, only to realize that he is not, in fact, a virgin."

"W-Well, he's still good..."

"Same reason why you got so excited when–"

"Look," you cut in, chopping the air with your hand, not letting Taehyung finish. His eyebrow seemed permanently raised. "I'm off my bullshit for now, no? I've got a mission–" You pointed to your phone and he held it out of your reach. You scowled and bounced back down into the bed. His eyes weren't following your face, but you ignored it. "–and I'll stop okay?"

Taehyung cocked his other eyebrow.

"Serious. You just deleted all the numbers except you and your friends, right?"

He turned the screen, thumb hovering over a certain number. Him and his friends were listed from one to seven, in order.

His thumb was over number seven.

"Don't," you whined. "Please, Tae."

His brows lowered, serious expression on his handsome face.

Then he smirked, dumping your phone on the bed.

"Silly girl," he drawled, crawling onto the bed, advancing towards you, sultry gaze and enchanting eyes making you forget about your device. "Why would I do that? He likes you so much."

You growled slightly, letting him push you down but not relenting. "That's really fucked up."

"That I wanna hear you say please?"

His hand lifted and cupped your chin, mischievous smile, unable to contain his pride for his little trick, sliding his leg between your thighs, tilting his head.

"Not just any please," he murmured, deep voice silky smooth, dark curled stands brushing against your cheeks he leaned in, hot exhale on your lips. "Your needy please when I threaten to take your precious Jungkookie from you."

You tried to close your legs but he stopped you with his knee, tilting his head, highly amused at your narrowed eyes.

"You don't like it?" He was leaning down, feathery kisses on your lips and cheeks. "I know you like it when I tease you." His honey voice was dripping into the fire, turning into fuel that fed the sparks of arousal, your hands coming up to clutch his black shirt, pulling down the center zipper, his deep chuckle in your skin, hand from your chin sliding up to your hair, the other tapping down your front, grazing the thin t-shirt material.

"Don't..." you gasped, his deft touch toying with the hem. “Don't use the others against me. That's not fair...”

“Mmm, yeah?”

Drawing circles on your inner thigh with his nail, nicking the skin.

"You only want to think about me?"

Your phone hummed with a notification. Taehyung chuckled, fingers creeping closer and closer.

"Aw, I wonder who that is? But that's too bad, because you're all mine right now."

You gasped, clutching his open shirt as his fingers slid in, two because you were already wet, shallow breathing and lidded eyes telling him enough, taking your lips with his, pace slow and steady and maddening, spreading your legs with his knees, forcing you to tip your hips up to him in an embarrassing position.

Then again, embarrassment during sex wasn't part of your vocabulary.

You pushed his black shirt down one shoulder and reached in, your fingers snaking to the hem of the white undershirt and stroking his skin, his satisfied exhale hot against your neck, you remembering the way the water drenched the fabric and stuck it to his golden tan skin, playfully flexing his defined chest and biceps, adorable and arousing because Kim Taehyung was both. He separated his digits inside your pussy to create a loud, sharp, wet squelch. You heard him grin, smug at the dirty sound, then begin plunging his fingers in and out, in and out of the tightness, trying to be as noisy as possible. You clenched your core to make him work for it, force him to be rougher with you, his fingers curling in your hair, yanking firmly, lips on your ear.

"See, how can those boys you pick keep up with you, hm? They won't know what to do with your pretty, sexy self," he purred, faster, harder, pushing you to the edge with your heated moan and your hands all over his chest, lifting your hips to meet his touch. "You need us to take care of you, don't you?"

Fuck, the way Taehyung said your name.

Like it was a decadent sweet he was craving, a taste compared to no other.

Your head fell back into the pillows, breathing in his warm scent in shallow puffs, his name pouring out of your lips, yearning and desire.

"Mmmm, Taehyung...."

Melting you into it, sweet bliss and sharp jerks of your hips into his hand, gasping at the flood of euphoria, trying to squeeze your thighs around his hand and stopped by his open legs. Your throbbing pussy gripped his fingers and made him hiss, his devious smirk growing as you lowered your chin again to look into those dark eyes, shivering under his intense gaze.

“Let’s play a little game.”

His tongue slid out, lickings your lips lightly.

“It’s called, how many fingers can I stuff in you before you’re begging for my dick?”

“What kind of – oh, f-fuck!”

One more.

Aching tightness, clenching your jaw, trembling at the ease of it, Taehyung cocking an eyebrow.

“Ah, yeah, three’s too easy, huh? You already warmed up.”

One more.

“Fuck, Tae, fuck!”

His dark eyes glittering, pleased at your reaction.

“That’s better. That’s what I wanna hear.”

Whines in your throat as he picked up the pace, fast and hard, clutching his shirt and his side, your nails digging in, stretched out and stuffed with four, your eyes rolling back and one leg sliding up to hook around his waist, meeting each thrust, so deep, so full, so wet, loud and obvious and uncaring of who was listening – probably Jimin with a huge smirk on his face – panting Taehyung’s name over and over, feeling the strength in his hold and his grip in your hair, pulling lightly, shooting pricks of pain down your head to meet the oppressive pleasure brimming in your core, closer, closer.

“What do you want?” Taehyung growled, that deep voice dangerously low.

“Y-Your c-cock, p-please…” you managed to gasp out, chasing it, chasing the fullness and the depth.

“Can you take it? Can you take it like the good girl you are?”

“A-Ah, yes, please Tae, want it,” you moaned, your fingernails digging into his back, scratching down as your orgasm shattered through you, making your whole body shake and shiver from the intensity, him pulling out. Your moan turned into a hoarse whimper, squirming as he rubbed your clit with his slick fingers, spanking it and teasing it, rocketing you into peaks and valleys of cut-off ecstasy that drove you insane, clawing at his clothes, desperate for his body on yours.

“What’s your magic word?”

“Please.”

He grinned at you despaired tone.

“That’s it.”

It took no time at all, your shirt flung aside, Taehyung losing his clothes that were already half-off, hot body to hot body, heated kisses and rummaging in his nightstand drawer, groaning into his mouth as his cock slapped your thigh, hard and thick and ready, dripping pre-cum on you before he yanked you up on top of him, ripping open the condom.

“Work for it.”

Lacing your fingers in his, sliding down onto that impressive girth and gasping as it twitched inside you, rolling your hips down onto it, better than his fingers, bouncing on it with your tits following your rhythm, squeezing his hands. Taehyung liked this kind of intimacy, the kind where he was grinning like the devil under you but still holding your hands as you railed yourself with his dick, rough and hard with your own smug smile, a little erratic but somehow good that way.

He made you work for it and you were good at working for it.

You found a good rhythm and – ba dum tss – rode it, leaning forward to deepen the angle and make it last longer, pulsing around his length with your tight walls, control and power and endorphins, each smack adding to the lewd melody that mixed with heavy moans and shuddering gasps, bringing Taehyung on your rollercoaster, his hips rising, your name rumbling in his chest, blood thudding in your ears at the baritone depth.

“Yes, such a good girl, gonna make me cum, don’t you want me to cum for you?” he panted, fishing for the magic word, bouncing one of his dark brows, his long hair flared out on his pillows, high cheekbones and strong features no longer hidden by wayward strands.

Your tongue between your teeth, grinning wide.

“Yes, please.”

The right inflection of winded want, maybe a little mischievous, but Taehyung liked that, for there was no fun in someone who was too easy.

“Fuck, you’re so fucking sexy.”

He squeezed your hands and thrust his hips up fiercely, shock bolting from your core to your spine to your head, your head snapping back, gasp torn from your throat, flooding his crotch with your juices, overstimulated clit rubbing on the base of his cock and Taehyung was gone too, husky groan falling from his lips, slamming his hips up and locking his legs, shooting jerks of cum into the condom, aftershocks causing you to lose hold on your knees, moan pitching higher as you slipped down on his throbbing length, trapped on it because Taehyung wasn’t going to lower you until he was done, the head pulsing inside you, squeezed out by your shivering walls.

“T… Tae… the picture…”

“Ah… yeah… hold on… lay down for me…”

He wasn’t going to let you leave without his mark anyway.

“Serious?”

“Deadly.”

You laid back against the pillows, spent, holding your phone, Taehyung straddling your chest and stroking his slick cock, plops of cum and lube falling onto your chest, messy dark hair curling around his handsome face. You could see the purple-red head peek out from between his fingers, hear the steady slapping as he pumped it back to full hardness.

“Alright, let’s see.”

Your chest was rattling but you raised your phone, bringing up the picture as Taehyung gripped the base of his cock, lifting it up slightly to put it in position. You squinted at the screen, looking from the photo dick to the real one. Of course. He was definitely bigger, a little thicker, but strangely, the color was almost the same. Was that lightning or similar skin tone? Or perhaps men with really nice dicks just happened to have Taehyung’s tan complexion?

You wouldn’t question it if it was true.

“You’re bigger,” you sighed, tossing your phone aside.

Taehyung smirked proudly. “What a surprise.”

“We all knew that, even before I saw it.”

He chuckled, going back to fisting his cock. “That’s because Jimin has a big mouth and likes to spread rumors.”

“You like that he spends rumors.”

Taehyung shrugged, but his sly expression wouldn’t be hidden even as he shook his head to cover part of his face with his long brown hair, curtaining half of it with darkness, teasing and effortlessly sexy.

“Ready?”

“Mhm, do it.”

You raised yourself onto your elbows, smiling wide, watching his breathing shallow and his eyes close, losing himself in it, faster and tighter, the wetness audible, strong thighs shuddering at your sides. Then he sucked in a breath, hissing your name and tipping forward, painting viscous white strings onto your collarbones and tits, pushing his shuddering cock up and down to spread it out, your clavicle now sticky and covered in his strong scent.

Taehyung ticked his head, lips in a devil’s smile, chest heaving with exertion.

“Your cum necklace is extra pretty today. Take a selfie for me so I can jack off to your cute face later.”

jeon jungkook.

“Jungkook?”

Jeon Jungkook shrieked your name like you were Michael Myers and he was Jamie Lee Curtis, flinging himself onto his computer monitor and mashing the power button to turn it off, his long purple hair flying everywhere, brown orbs like saucers, entire body shaking so bad that even his eyebrow piercing was vibrating.

He froze like that.

You blinked at him from the doorframe of his rented studio room, one hand on the knob and the other holding up your phone like a kitchen knife.

His leather bomber jacket was hung over the back of his rolling chair. The chair was currently slowly sliding across the floor, away from him and his panic. Jungkook was wearing a sleeveless black shirt and loose black jeans.

For a guy scared shitless, his pants were pitching a very impressive tent.

Had he been watching porn?

“Er… I knocked…?” you said slowly, pointing to the door. “Do you not hear me?”

“Um, uh, n-no,” Jungkook sputtered, looking you up and down. “No, I d-didn’t.”

“I said I was coming by today. Via text?”

“Was that today?” he echoed hollowly like a ghost in a shell, the end of his question pitching to a higher octave. He coughed and cleared his throat. “Ah. Sorry. I think I f… forgot…” He was not looking at your face, instead staring at your thighs and your shorts, tight and tiny, shredded black denim paired with a loose, long-sleeved black top that read in bold, white, graphic, letters...

REALITY SUCKS.

You pointed to the turned-off monitor.

"Were you watching porn?" you asked cheerfully.

Jungkook's ears turned red.

"Yes," he blurted.

Silence.

A bird cawed outside.

You nodded, closing the door. You tilted your head and locked it, just in case, before waltzing into Jungkook's film studio space, bouncing on the heels of your large black sneakers. "If you're gonna watch porn, you should lock the door. What were you watching? Is it lesbian porn again? Can I–?"

You reached over to turn the screen back on and Jungkook's tattooed hand shot out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you away from it and to him. You blinked rapidly, confused at his tight grip.

"N-No, you can't see. You can't," he sputtered, pinning you against his hard body.

You frowned, annoyed. "Why not? I like porn." You squirmed against him, but he sandwiched you between his forearms, forcing you to look up and face him, thinning your mouth into a line. He gulped, eyes shifting, holding your body against his. His lower lip trembled, mole underneath bouncing with his uncertainty.

"I... It wasn't porn..."

You stopped struggling, confused. "Huh?"

Those dark chocolate eyes found yours, looking guilty.

"I was looking at your pictures."

You blinked rapidly. "What?"

"You know... the ones I take of you sometimes... You said it was okay..."

Ah, yes. Jungkook liked to take pictures of you. He had mumbled that it was because he needed practice and, later in bed, he admitted it was because he considered you his muse, an inspiration of sorts, so would it be okay if, maybe, you just turned a little and laid in his covers just like... like that, yeah, could he take maybe one photo?

"Sure, knock yourself out, dude."

A bit later, far too late, you had realized that had been maybe too chill of a response, but Jungkook seemed to prefer that and he acted less awkward about it every other time he asked to take a picture. They weren't usually dirty pictures. Although you were naked in some of them, they weren't quite inappropriate, every single one framed with delicate, well-thought-out composition. You always sighed and told him he made you look better than you actually were.

Jungkook always insisted you were consistently beautiful.

You pointed between your bodies.

"Were you gonna get off to them or something?" you cheerily inquired, bumping against his pitched denim tent.

"N-No!"

His ears turned scarlet and he jerked sideways, but you held onto him, hands firmly on his hips, not letting him twist away. He quickly covered his ears and pouted at you.

"I was... I just missed you."

You smiled, squeezing his ass. "I missed you too, Jungkook."

Your tone was soft, gentle. He stilled and lowered his hands, lips parting at your words, slightly surprised, incredibly adorable.

His dick twitched in his pants and jabbed your crotch.

A pause.

Jungkook's eyes shifted to the side, mumbling under his breath. "And, yeah, okay, I got horny, but that's only because it's you..."

"That's great, since I definitely wanted to look at your dick as soon as possible!"

His eyes went wide.

You smiled widely.

Then he said something unexpected.

"Ow."

You looked down and backed up as Jungkook frowned and reached down to shift his rock-hard length in his pants, sighing in relief.

"Zipper was killing me..." he grumbled, running a hand through his purple hair.

"We should just take it off then."

"Pardon, we should wha–ah!"

You grabbed fistfuls of his black top and yanked it up and over his head, causing Jungkook to sputter in confusion, throwing his hands up as you unsheathed his muscular torso, leaning in, breathing on his skin, leaving him to untangle himself as your lips closed onto his dark nipple, tongue teasing the small nub.

"Ah, fuck!"

You lifted your lips, tongue still extended, looking up to see him flinging the shirt aside, his long purple hair messy and wild, tattooed arm and un-inked arm lifting, pushing his hair away from his face, his chest rising to your wet muscle, gasping. You had a clear view of that cute little mole under his lower lip, trembling with pleasure before Jungkook looked down at you, hazy chocolate orbs fanned by black lashes, breathing hard.

You ticked an eyebrow, licking slow circles, lips closing in again, sucking daintily.

He bit his lip and let it slowly tease out while you simultaneously teased him, your name leaving his lips in a low moan. You danced your fingertips up his thigh, nail tracing the seams of his jeans, kissing across his chest, his eyes following you, hips rocking into your touch, following your pace, letting you command it. His head tipped back as you kissed down his abs, whimpering with want, curling his fingers into fists.

Jungkook always made you feel like you were touching him for the first time.

"You're not a virgin?"

"No?" Jungkook had repeated after the first time you had fucked him, sounding confused. "I'm just like this? Is that bad?"

"W... well... no, and now that I think about it, you were suspiciously good..."

"You didn't like it?"

You had turned to look at him and, fuck, the way he looked at you, so cute and innocent, uh oh, and then the slightest hint of an open-mouthed smirk dancing on those shapely pink lips, reminding you of someone else.

"Namjoon-hyung said that's what you were into. Is he wrong?"

Voice so deep and so smooth, gliding over you like butter.

You almost hastily defended yourself but one look into those roguish, yet genuine, chocolate eyes and you couldn't lie.

"But... you should enjoy yourself too..."

Jungkook had grinned, endearing and heart-thuddingly handsome. "I do. I told you, this is how I am. You're just my type."

"And what's that?'"

He had pinned you back onto the bed, leaning in.

"Hot and horny."

Turns out.

Seemed to be a running theme with all eight of you.

Right now, his pants were falling and you were sliding up as your hand was sliding down, shushing him quietly, your other hand dancing up his neck and pulling his head down.

"Someone's gonna hear you," you whispered to his open lips, tone and touch implying you didn't give a shit who was listening, wrapping your fingers around his stiff cock the second he pushed his black boxer briefs down, his shivering moan tickling your cheek. His right hand came up to cradle your head and lean it against his, begging whines for you to move, pairing it with an irresistible, husky hiss of your name.

"Please..."

He liked it tight and he liked it rough, liked the way you could lock your fingers and keep that nearly suffocating pace, closing his eyes with a flutter and moaning into your skin, curtaining you with purple, his grip in your hair tightening as you built that speed, filling the rented studio with his silvery, erotic cries.

"Someone out there is going to think you're watching porn," you teased, nudging him with your nose, looping a finger back to smear the pre-cum over the swollen head. He bucked his hips into your hold, lips pressed to your cheek, intoxicated groan warming your skin.

"Kiss me and breathe into my mouth..."

You couldn't say no, not with his voice so soft and pleading like that, not with that edge of nervousness. Fuck, the way Jungkook succumbed to your kiss, uncontrollable tremors taking over his shoulders, hot taut skin twitching in your palm indicating he was close, and you almost broke away to say that he shouldn't cum like this, it'll be messy and get on the floor, but he grabbed your face and didn't let you go, whimpering in his throat, wordlessly telling you to do it, exhale into his throat and he groaned in his chest, long, drawn-out, consumed by lust, and maybe it was bad, but you loved it, loved the way he wanted it so bad, wanted you to push the air out of his lungs and suffocate his pulsating cock with your grip, pre-cum leaking between your fingers, finally pulling back and gasping, his lashes fluttering helplessly.

"G-Gonna cum, f-fuck!"

You had to think fast, looking down for a moment and feeling his cock jerk in your hand, swiftly switching to cupping the dark red head, thick white cum suddenly spurting your palm, Jungkook burying his face into your hair to muffle his wail, your scalp hot with his released exhale and your hand covered in his heated release.

You breathed in, smirking at the scent of dirty gratification.

"Jungkook..."

He whined softly, hips quivering as you covered his jerking length with your cum-covered hand, spreading it all over and getting him hard again.

"There's this picture..."

"Mmm, yeah, the h-hyungs told me... don't stop..."

You swung your hips from side to side, free hand running down his chest, your eyes roaming his toned body, his tattooed arm still hovering over your head, long fingers tangled in your hair still, squatting down and opening your mouth, tongue dancing out and licking your hand and the side of his purple-red length, wet sloppy kisses, slurping up his cum and moaning on the throbbing head, making sure that he could feel the sinful heat.

"Give me... oooh, fuck, give me your phone..."

Your hand left his abs reluctantly, tugging your phone out of your ass pocket and holding it up for him as your mouth closed around his cock, swallowing it all, eyes closing, cramming all of him until the head hit your inner throat and your lips pressed against his crotch, knees on the tile floor, thighs spread, hands poised in the air, unable to breathe.

Click.

You cracked open one eye to see Jungkook holding your phone above your head, teasing smirk on his shapely lips, mole winking at you.

“For me?” he asked, not quite innocent.

It was the first time Jungkook had taken an actual dirty picture.

You shrugged as if to say, sure, pulling back as he turned the phone around, the dick in question on the screen. You eased off his length, licking it clean, bringing up your wet hand covered in his cum, popping your lips off the engorged tip and sliding your fingers in your wet lips, tongue wriggling between your fingers, inspecting the two dicks. Jungkook was still hard – so hard that his cock was sticking straight out, almost mimicking the photo. You had to crouch a little more, tilting your head and placing your fingertips on his balls, raising his dick a little on the back of your hand, smearing saliva and pre-cum on your skin.

Yon continued to lick, grazing the underside of his length with your tongue and then pulling back, eyes going from the photo to the real thing.

Jungkook moaned above you, clutching your phone tightly, knuckles white under black tattoos.

Hm.

You tilted your head.

One way.

Then the other.

Hmmm?

Hmmmmmmm.

“W… What?” Jungkook stuttered above you.

You pursed your lips at the tip of his cock, swiping your tongue over it and sucking off the pre-cum. He gasped, hips shaking, threatening to shove it into your lips.

“It doesn’t look like your dick at all.”

“What?” He sounded startled.

You pointed with your dry hand. “The shape is a little off, you’re longer and slightly bigger, and the color is different.” You sighed, whooshing hot air over his soaked, taut skin, Jungkook whimpering. You squinted slightly.

“Still…”

You tapped your lips with his cock, thinking.

“I think he wears the same underwear brand as you.”

“He does?” Jungkook squeaked, spinning the phone around and blinking at it.

You shrugged. “And for some reason, the position of his hips reminds me of you. I don’t know why…”

He chewed his lower lip, staring at the phone.

“Oh well.��

You stood up abruptly at your words and plucked the phone out of his hand, putting it on his desk.

“If it’s not you, it’s not you. Let’s fuck.”

Jungkook yelped as you grabbed the bottom of your shirt and began stripping off your clothes.

That was his reaction that one time you lost strip poker to Kim Seokjin and him at that one party, not that your cared because you didn’t bother learning the rules. You had other priorities and they involved getting mostly naked and then pinning Seokjin down to make out with him as Jungkook gawked at the other side of the table, half-clothed, clutching his cards.

“I can… go…?” he had sputtered.

You surfaced from Seokjin’s plush lips, his hands around your bare waist, the taller man gasping for air, reeling from your kiss.

“I still have one more piece of clothing to go, Jungkook.”

Side of your lower lip between your teeth, cocking an eyebrow, swaying your panty-covered ass at those huge brown eyes.

“You can help, you know.”

Fun night.

His eyes were huge now too, your back against the wall and him rolling the condom down, lifting your leg and sliding into you, gasping at your tightness, leaning down to kiss you again, greedy and ravenous, his hips jerking upwards, forcing you on tiptoe. Your hands were on his shoulders, nails digging into that soft skin and strong muscle.

“F-Fuck me, Jungkook, mmm, fuck, yes…”

You didn’t really get to talk during that strip poker night because your mouth was full of Seokjin’s dick as Jungkook’s pounded you from behind, but it would be a crime to complain about such things.

You met your hips to his to deepen his thrust, enjoying his strength, powerful and steady, fucking you against the wall, wet slaps and soft moans filling the room between harsh kisses, lips swelling from the fervor, your ass even rhythmically smacking into the wall, but neither of you cared, your leg around his slim waist and his right arm wrapped around it, his fingers digging into your thigh, black tattoos and tan skin gleaming from sweat, his other hand clutching a fistful of your ass and ramming your drenched pussy down on his stiff cock, grinning at your soft cry of his name, staring into his eyes and not looking away, spellbound by chocolate orbs framed by wispy strands of purple.

“You always feel so fucking good…”

You pulsed around him, feeding the fire, wanton exhales mixing, dick pic forgotten.

“Hah…”

You rolled over, sighing loudly.

“Haaaaaaah…”

“You still fixated on that dick?” a deep, unimpressed voice said next to you.

You frowned and planted your phone with the inspirational dick on your face, praying for it to come to life and choke you.

“I never found out who it was…” you mumbled.

“Well, it is Saturday night. We can go crash a party and maybe you can find that dick!” exclaimed a joyful voice, poking your side. Your phone slid off your face and clattered to the floor. A cheerful hand covered in colorful clay rings waved at you and your gaze shifted to Jung Hoseok and his blond and pink hair. He was too cute and you were unable to help yourself as you looked at him, matching his heart-shaped smile.

“Nah,” you tutted. “If it’s not one of you guys… the dick isn’t worth it.”

You closed your eyes and sighed again, long and with longing.

“If it makes you feel better, we don’t know who it is either.”

You laughed hearing Kim Namjoon’s deep, serious voice. “How would you guys find out?”

“I know a lot of things,” Park Jimin’s angelic, light voice chirped.

“Too many things,” Kim Taehyung’s baritone voice remarked coolly.

“Are you gonna eat that slice of pizza, Jungkook?”

“Yeah, hyung, I am, no, stop–”

“Give Seokjinnie-hyung a bite!”

“Over my dead body!”

“Then you’re dead to me, boy! Respect your elders!”

You heard some slapping and flailing about, but didn’t open your eyes.

“He’s probably not a virgin anyway. Virgins don’t snap pics like that on strangers’ phones.”

You cracked an eye open and narrowed it at the form laying on the ground beside you. Min Yoongi was messing with his phone. His head was on a huge pillow that he wasn’t sharing. He seemed to notice your glare and turned his head to raise a lazy eyebrow at you, cat-like eyes shrouded by black hair.

“Isn’t that what you’re into?” he taunted.

Your eye twitched.

You growled, sitting up. “I’m not into virgins, damnnit! I just like listening to people who are knowledgeable about their interests, like how Namjoon goes on about human philosophy, and how Seokjin never shuts up about MapleStory, and like how you talk about music theory. Just because I don’t understand right away doesn’t mean I don’t try,” you snapped, prodding Yoongi’s firm pecs through his t-shirt. He didn’t move, completely unbothered as you continued your tirade. “I don’t know anything about TikTok, but I like listening to Hoseok talk about the latest dance and fashion trends. Jimin’s the only reason I don’t make an ass of myself at parties because he knows everything about everyone so I don’t accidentally sit in a taken person’s lap and cause trouble. Taehyung’s always following that animal rescue Instagram and giving me cool facts about all these different creatures. Jungkook can go on for hours about cameras. I still don’t think I even know how to work the aperture function on DSLRs, but as long as he will continue to explain, I’ll listen.”

You sucked in a deep breath and seethed.

“So what’s the difference?”

“What?” you scowled.

Yoongi shrugged casually.

“Why do you keep chasing dorks with glasses struggling to get stupid graduate degrees when the people you spend the most time with are here with you right now, ready to fuck you at any time?”

“That’s–”

Your words died in your throat, Yoongi’s words finally sinking in.

Silence.

“Hyung, I’m struggling to get a grad degree…” Namjoon cut in, but the black-haired man on the floor lifted a finger and sliced the air, quieting him instantly. Yoongi was watching you carefully, head tilting at your frozen state. Your brain seemed to have ceased function. His lips curved into a slow, open-mouthed smirk.

Yoongi dropped the bomb on you.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit suspicious that the dick had elements from all of ours, but never quite matched up?”

W… What?

Your head whipped to your fallen phone and you scrambled with it, bringing up the dick pic again. The photo showed up at the party with the wet t-shirt contest. Your phone has disappeared for two hours during said party. Everyone was drunk. No. Everyone had gotten drunk after your phone had mysteriously been found and returned to you. You spent the night in various laps doing various naughty things, not bothering to check your phone after retrieving it, leaving it as a later you problem. You filed through your memories, recalling their faces as you showed each and every one of them the photo.

Hold on.

“Didn’t you think it was a bit weird, almost as if…”

They weren’t as weirded out as one might be, seeing some random dick on your phone.

As if…

“As if one of us is good at photo manipulation, perhaps,” Yoongi purred.

As if they had expected to see such a photo.

Click.

You whipped your head to the left and a whirlwind of dark purple hair went flying under the coffee table, hiding behind broad shoulders, chestnut brown hair, and full lips forming an ‘o’. At the same time, the realization hit you like a falling piano from the sky.

“Did you all…” you choked, mechanically jerking from face to face, Namjoon, Seokjin, Yoongi, Hoseok, Jimin, Taehyung, and lastly, back at Seokjin because Jungkook was cowering behind him, large brown doe eyes behind a massive shoulder. “D-Did you all…?”

No way.

“Did you all take a dick pic and Photoshop them together into one superdick photo and PLANT IT ON MY PHONE?!”

One look at those seven faces and…

YUP.

Taehyung laughed, loud and rich, nudging Namjoon with his elbow. “Told you she wouldn’t check the details of the photo and realize it was from an outside source.”

You started and swiped around. The file name was close enough to your camera photos’ file names, but upon closer inspection…

“Oh my God…”

“She’s very easily distracted by dick,” Hoseok chuckled, infectious grin on his face.

“I am not!”

“Wanna bet?”

“Jimin, do not whip out your dick.”

You heard your name being called softly and looked up, clutching your phone, still stunned and flabbergasted that you had been lusting after a fake dick that was a fuckin’ Megazord of the seven dicks currently surrounding you and those seven were the very dicks that tricked you!

On purpose!

For what?

FOR FUN!

(GG, no re)

They got you good.

Your irritation immediately dissipated when your eyes found those anxious chocolate ones, long purple strands curling around his cheek, curious open mouth with the small mole underneath barely visible.

“Are you mad?” Jungkook asked quietly, pink lips curving into an irresistible pout.

Oh.

Shit.

Before you could quickly say, no, of course not, Jungkook, it was funny, I’m not mad at all, you felt a dark presence by your shoulder, raspy chuckle by your ear, sending shivers down your spine, whispering your name, devious and smokey.

“Whose idea do you think it was?” Yoongi murmured.

You stared into chocolate eyes.

Innocent.

Or…?

Jungkook’s pout disappeared.

His dark eyebrow cocked, mischievous smirk gracing those irresistible lips. No, not just him. Lowered lids and midnight blue hair, smug expression with a dimple. Kim Namjoon. Lifted chin, looking down at you with a sheepish yet wicked smile on full lips. Kim Seokjin. The black head of hair leaning his chin on your shoulder, laugh like a seductive purr. Min Yoongi. Tilted head balanced on long fingers decorated with colorful rings and bracelets, sly heart-shaped smile. Jung Hoseok. Shit-eating grin fanned by red hair, bouncing a perfectly manicured eyebrow. Park Jimin. Long dark brown hair pulled back into a ponytail, spare strands framing a moody, handsome face with a glint of playful cunning. Kim Taehyung.

And then, Jeon Jungkook.

“The hyungs thought it was a great idea,” he drawled, silvery and sweet, looking extremely pleased with himself, running his tattooed hand through his purple hair, unquestionably guilty, but despairingly angelic in appearance.

These fucking…. Seven Kings of Duality!

You were positively fuming.

Silence.

An owl hooted outside the window.

“YOU PUNKS!”

You threw yourself over the coffee table and horny chaos ensued.

2021.09.01 - JK birthday drabble 2021.10.02 - Namjoon birthday drabble

masterpost

#bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts smut #bts x you #jungkook smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #jimin x reader #park jimin smut #hoseok x reader #seokjin x reader #namjoon x reader #hoseok smut #seokjin smut #namjoon smut

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leggerefiore · 3 years ago

Note

howdy, I hope you're having a good day! you've given us your (very good) hcs for Ingo and Emmet's bathing habits but how do the silly choo choo boys feel abt ✨their s/o's wanting to bathe with them ✨ will Emmet finally be convinced to shower with warm water so his darling doesn't d*e? Feel free to interpret this as tame or spicy as you want LOL I'm just someone who's very into the intimacy of showering/bathing with my own partner!

interestingly, another anon requested something similar, i suppose this is in high demand, they asked for sfw so let's stick to that

▲Ingo▼

● He's hesitant at first. His mind immediately travels back to bathing with Emmet in their younger years. The younger kept splashing the older and being an overall nuisance by refusing to stay still. Ingo values his bath as precious relaxation time.

● If you reassure him that you won't ruin is few moments of peace, he'll agree. You don't have a tub big enough for both of you to lay down, so sitting is the preferred position. You'll quickly realize how thorough he is with his bath preparation. Different kinds of oils are added to the water alongside enchantingly scented bubbles. Depending on his mood, he may break out some bath bombs or salt soaks of some sort.

● You'll likely sit facing him, while he's just blissed out the moment he's waist deep in the warm water. He's going to spend a good portion just soaking without any actual cleaning. Eventually, though, he'll pick up a loofah and meticulously scrub himself down until suds cover him. He's very particular, as stated before. Ingo also buys extremely nice bar soaps from a local store.

● When you've bathed together a few times, he lets you scrub him and noticeably enjoys it when you do his back. A small groan left him one time when you applied pressure to a tense spot (perhaps he needs a massage…). He'll do the same for you, his precise nature feels very attentive, and you'll feel extremely take care of. It's down right relaxing how gentle his scrubs are. (He'll sneak a few kisses on your bare skin.)

● In the end, he changes his mind about bathing with other people. Well, at least with you. You help relax more, and he truly appreciates your kindness. Ingo bears more on his shoulders than he tends to realize, but you gently lift that weight away, if only momentarily.

▽Emmet△

○ “No❤”, he speaks; emoji and all. He downright refuses, there is no reason to spend that long in the shower. He has other things to do. You'll have to give him puppy dog eyes and beg him. The cuter you act, the faster he breaks. When he breaks, you're getting fifteen minutes with Emmet in the shower to change his mind.

○ Once you have him in the tub, block his access to the water knobs. He can and will make it freezing because he doesn't see why you would use hot water if cold is perfectly viable. Use the 'boil the frog' method to get him comfortable with hot water. Emmet stands around awkwardly not knowing what to do, by that point he's already cleaned himself.

○ Offer to wash his hair, and he's becoming a bit more convinced. The feeling of your fingers massaging his tense scalp will have him let out a quiet groan. He never realized how stiff his head felt. The warm water bounces off his flesh and a sense of ease overcomes him. His smile becomes softer. He supposes Ingo's affinity for hogging the bathroom had purpose now. (You're also horrified to see the 3in1 body wash, shampoo and conditioner he's using. Stop him.)

○ After you showered together a few times, he's got his hands all over you in the tub. You will have him scrub you head to toe, with multiple breaks for him to kiss and squeeze you. He'll even wash your hair for you if you're alright with him doing that. He fully returns the favour you gave to him and kneads your scalp until your shoulders unconsciously drop. (You also scrub him, but he squirms too much, so it becomes a task.)

○ All in all, he goes from completely opposed to whining for you to shower with him at least three nights out of the week. You taught him a new bonding experience with new, unconsidered affections. Emmet also feels more relaxed after showering with you, which is good for winding down after a long day at the station. He enjoys the quality time with you, most of all.

#ingo x reader #emmet x reader #pokemon x reader #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #pokemon ingo x reader #pokemon emmet x reader #great now i want to take a bath #im more of a shower person though....

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prettyboykatsuki · 4 years ago

Text

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

winner takes all | k. bakugou

➳ tags ;; fluff, fem!reader

➳ wc ;; 1k

➳ a/n ;; ari stop posting fics at 2am challenge failed.

➳plot ;; you and katsuki make a bet. it doesn’t go how you hope.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

“This is a stupid,”

You frown at him, arms crossed over your chest. Bakugou looks down at you with an unimpressed expression - not budging. His scowl deepens at your stubbornness, watching with disdain as you clasp your hands and bow your head.

“It’s not, you’re just no fun” you insist.

He glares at you even harder and you flinch a little under his gaze.

“I won’t hit a woman unless they’re heroes or villains,” he replies, smirk evident. You smack his chest.

“Hey! I’m a hero, what the hell?”

He sighs. You’re an idiot he thinks to himself read between the fuckin’ lines.

He doesn’t say any of that though, simply ignores you as he brushes past and continues walking. You’re supposed to be on patrol right now - you know, being heroes like you’ve mentioned. But you’ve spent the last 30 minutes pestering Bakugou about making a bet.

It’s simple really - if you can top him on the rankings this week (where he’s been sitting pretty at 12 for the last 3 weeks) you get to flick him as hard as you want on the forehead. It’s a childish bet, yes - but the pure joy at the thought of flicking thee Dynamight on the forehead is a good motivator. You’ve been wanting to get your ranks up anyway.

“And anyway, you’re not really hitting me perse - it’s just a little flick on the forehead,” you remind him. You pause, giving a dramatic gasp before you cup a hand over your mouth “Surely, you’re not scared you’ll lose right?”

Bakugou stops dead in his tracks, glowering at you. You and that shit-eating grin plastered all over your face because you know how fucking easy he is to irritate. You look around innocently, hands tucked behind your back as you walk away.

“No no, I’m sure that’s not it, right? Our dear Dynamight would never be afraid of lil ol’ me -”

He snatches you back to his side with the collar of hero outfit, clicking his teeth at you. You stumble back, still shocked by how strong he is.

“Damn brat,” he huffs “Fine. You wanna be like that, I’ll do your stupid fuckin’ bet. Don’t come cryin’ to me later, yeah?”

You jump excitedly next to him as he walks away from you, itching to catch up. Bakugou forces himself to bite down a smile opting to roll his eyes instead.

“You’re so annoying,”

“You love me”

Obviously, you damn dumbass

God, or whatever other thing resides and controls the universe, has not been on your side lately.

You and Bakugou made a deal that you had two weeks to climb the charts, plenty of time since they update almost daily. It should’ve been a piece of cake really - just pick up the slack on your work a little bit and hustle to get those points in. You know Bakugous schedule like the back of your hand and while it wouldn’t have been the easiest thing ever, it was super doable with some patience.

It would’ve been, anyway. It would’ve been except for the fact Bakugou got himself into the sticky situation this week.

There was a shootout on the lower east-side of town - a villain raid of a small group that the police had been apparently tailing for months but failed to catch. Not only did Bakugou take out the full, armed group - but he also broke a record for least civilians injured in a raid of that size.

No property damage either, he quite literally set a new record and shot from 12 to number 4. It’s the highest he’s ever made it thus far. It’s literally in every single newspaper and on every story - he’s gotten about a hundred interview requests.

You are the only other person aware of your own crushing defeat. You’re happy for him, obviously - but you can’t help but hope he’d forgotten about your silly little deal.

Who are you kidding. Of course he didn’t.

You chuckle nervously as you watch him take off his gauntlets and pull his mask up so it looks like a headband on him. He stretches his arms out in front of you, very dramatically practicing his flicks.

You frown.

“...Is all that really necessary?”

He scoffs, flicking off some sparks from his fingertips with a cocky grin. You flinch, backing away from his.

“Tch, ‘course it is princess. A deals a deal and I never do anything half-ass,”

Your frown deepens as you cross your arms over your chest as Bakugou dramatically reanacts the flick. He pauses, stretching his arms over his head once more for good measure, before signaling you towards him.

You stiffen - awkwardly shuffling towards him until you stand facing him but still too far from his reach. He narrows his eyes at you until you stand closer and closer and closer. You stop once his fingers are within flicking distance.

He bites back a laugh.

“You ready?”

You brace yourself for impact, screwing your eyes tight as you nod rapidly. You can feel the presence and warmth of his hand radiating - heart racing rapidly as you become more and more nervous. Seconds start to feel like minutes as you tap your foot impatiently.

“Cmon, cmon, cmon - d-do you’re worst damn it,”

“You asked for it, brat”

You suck in a sharp breath and hold it, preparing yourself for whatever comes next when you feel the softest little tap on your forehead.

What the fuck?

Your whole faces falls, brows furrowed in confusion as your eyes snap open. Bakugou is already putting his suit back on, gauntlets and all. You wave your hand infront of his face but he doesn’t seem to react at all.

“Hey, what the hell? What was that?”

Bakugou sighs at your little tantrum, pausing before staring at you with his arms crossed over your chest.

“Hurting potential romantic partners is domestic abuse, ya fuckin’ dweeb. Move before I make you move,”

You blink owlishly, watching with wide eyes as he moves past you back into the hallways. You inhale a sharp breath, a warm flush painting on your skin as you take in what he just said, rushing to the door.

“Potential romantic - oh my fucking god, wait! You can��t just drop that on me what the hell!”

Faintly, you hear Bakugou’s snickering down the hallway.

»» — { ♡ } —— { ♡ } —— { ♡ } — ««

#bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bakugo x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bnha x you #bnha x y/n #bakugou imagines #bakugou imagine #bnha imagines #bnha imagine #writing tags

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doctenwho · 4 years ago

Text

Gestures and Evasion

Hello! Welcome to a new DT fic! My deepest apologies that it’s been so long, and thank you so much for waiting so patiently! Life’s been a bit of a rollercoaster recently, and I’ve needed a bit to recuperate, but I’m back again!

This prompt didn’t have a specific character mentioned, but luckily, since it wasn’t anonymous, I was able to shoot pistachoz a DM and they’ve confirmed it’s a Tenth Doctor request! :D

Warning: None, I don’t think?

Word Count: 3,514

Summary: Check out the prompt above! :)

(Gif doesn’t belong to me, credit to the creator! :D)

The Doctor doesn’t really remember the first small act he’d committed to try and get his companion to notice him. To notice him on a... well, on a more personal level?

It’s a general memory, nothing pinpointed, but he knows it happened long ago.

It was something small—mundane. (Y/N) had more or less brushed the gesture off with a light laugh and a smile that made his hearts hammer away in his chest, but (Y/N) had really seen if for what it had been.

It wasn’t very often that the Doctor had these sort of feeling about anything, but there was just something special about (Y/N). Something he couldn’t put his finger on.

He’d been trying for just about as long as the companion had been travelling with him to send little messages, or gestures in hopes that maybe (Y/N) would see what he was doing for what it was instead of brushing it off like she tended to do.

If he’s honest, he’s never really had this kind of problem before. He’s had many companions, and more often than not, those companions tend to want more from him than he’s willing to allow himself to give. Rose, and Martha—Jack, even—they were all looking for more from him, and being what he is, and what he does, it’s not that simple to reciprocate feelings.

They’ll all age and eventually die, whereas he’ll just move on to his next bout of regeneration with a broken heart he’ll have to try his hardest to keep under wraps.

The Doctor knows that maybe (Y/N) showing such little interest in him is almost a good thing. Less heartbreak down the road when (Y/N) decides not to accompany him any longer, or, worse, when old age takes (Y/N) away like every other human before her. It’s inevitable, and he really should have a stronger hold on human life compared to TimeLord life, but the loss always knocks him down for a while.

It should be a good thing, but he just can’t seem to bring himself around to believing that it’s a good thing. Not when every time (Y/N) brushes off a gesture he’s thought over, and put time and effort into, it fills his hearts with an unfamiliar pain he hasn’t felt since losing his family and Gallifrey alike.

It had taken him a while to notice he was even trying to win (Y/N) in a sort of courtship way. And it had taken even longer to realize he’d been doing it for about as long as he’d known (Y/N). It hadn’t seemed like it at the time, but looking back now, he can see how all the little comments and gestures were more than just friendly.

But she’d been brushing his attempts off since early in their travels. Shooting him a smile, but turning away when anything too even the slightest romantic turn. Avoiding his eyes when he stared fondly, or laughing it off when a compliment slipped past his lips.

He really didn’t understand it.

He could see the Gallifreyan romantic gestures confusing (Y/N), but the few earth gestures he’d picked up barely stirred anymore of a reaction than the Gallifreyan ones. He didn’t know where he was going wrong—how it was all being perceived the way it was. The wrong way. He wasn’t getting the reactions he wanted and... well, it hurt.

Both his pride, and his hearts.

It had started small with flowers—or, a flower. They were on a foreign planet, but he knew giving small gifts like a flower was one of the human gestures. So, he’d searched around while his companion was busy exploring, and located the loveliest flower he could find. It was mixtures of blues and purples; native to the planet but incredibly rare considering they only bloomed twice a year, for no longer that three days at a time.

The flower had a sweet smell; one similar to those of sweets from earth. For a while, before he’d remembered Earth didn’t have this specific species of flower, nor were they advanced enough in space travel to find one, he’d assumed they’d used the attractive scent of the flower as a marketing technique to sell their sweets.

The sugary smell Earth sweets had would always come second to the scent of this specific flower.

The exchange had been short, and less than pleasurable if the Doctor’s honest. He’d found (Y/N) sitting on the ground, just taking the calming atmosphere of the planet. His heart stuttered in his chest before he finally took those last few steps towards her, where he settled at her side and cleared his throat to gain her attention.

He’d held the flower out, rambling out facts as (Y/N) took the flower into her hands. She gave it a sniff, and fiddled with the stem and petals for a second before smiling down at it. She stared down at it, before looking back at him with an appreciative smile. He’d thought he’d won her over, but instead, she settled the flower on the ground beside her.

His hearts had cracked as his companion’s hand fell away from the flower, leaving it on the ground as she returned her attention to the world around her. He’d swallowed thickly before sitting himself beside her, not bothering to mention the fact his gesture had gone unnoticed.

It was the same ordeal when he’d ordered (Y/N) a space delicacy from one of his favorite planets, where his companion had taken the treat into her hands and tasted it without a second thought. Smiling down at the treat, before shooting him light smile as she licked her lips.

He didn’t know why he’d been expecting—hoping for—anything more than the usual ‘Thank you’ he always received when he did something out of the ordinary for his companion, but the mumbled words had filled his with a sense of sadness.

It was silly.

But he kept trying.

The gestures just kept coming. It was barely a forethought anymore. An unconscious effort to try and win over his companion—seeking this relationship (Y/N) quite obviously didn’t want. It was a sad downward spiral, but he really couldn’t imagine not trying to woo her. He’d been at it for so long, not trying sounded foreign.

He tried just about anything he could to get any sort of reaction. Any hint that his companion knew what he was trying to do. Any acknowledgment that she understood that he was trying. He’d prefer blatant rejection to this... whatever this evasive attitude (Y/N) was expressing.

Dinner in the stars.

Unique gifts from distant planets.

Various treats and snacks from wherever they happened to be.

He even tried to learn more about human things on earth. How humans went about stuff like this, and how it all differed from his Gallifreyan roots. Human courting was quite the oddity.

He didn’t talk to many humans who weren’t his companions, or people he’d saved in some way or another, but the man who ran one of the shops had taken some time to educate him, but the Doctor had come out of that conversation more confused than he’d gone in.

But on the bright side, (Y/N) had enjoyed the bag of sweets he’d awkwardly bought to stand at the register and chat with the friendly shopkeeper.

He was still at a loss. Nothing seemed to be working. Nothing wooed his companion. He didn’t understand—couldn't see how not one single thing he’d tried had gotten (Y/N)’s attention.

But he still had one more thing up his sleeve.

“Where are we going?” (Y/N) asked cautiously from the seat in the console room. The Doctor was doing his usual laps around the TARDIS console to what should be six TimeLord’s jobs simultaneously. He’d gotten good at it over the years, but there was still, occasionally, some rough kickbacks when he couldn’t be everywhere at once.

“It’s a surprise,” the man shot his companion a grin, pulling a lever. At this point, (Y/N) should be used to the surprises. He never got the kinds of reactions he was looking for, but he was still hoping that... maybe sometime he would. That something he planned would be the special one that could win his companion over.

(Y/N) didn’t reply, but continued to watch the Doctor how around the TARDIS like a madman.

They weren’t far from the next greatest surprise the man had planned. They’d been travelling a little under an hour, and (Y/N) had only joined him in the console room ten-ish minutes prior, but he’d still refused to tell her where they were heading.

(Y/N) was still quiet when the Doctor stabilized his space and time machine, checking everything twice before finally tugging his companion up by the hand and leading her towards the doors.

He threw the doors open, grinning widely as he gazed around. Just as promised.

It was a phenomenon really. A collection of heart shaped carbon monoxide ice chunks. No one was quite sure how they’d been formed, or whether someone had carved the hearts and left them to float in this tiny orbital pull in the middle of nowhere.

It was a sight few saw—the Doctor had only heard of this place from chatter on a nearby planet, but he had to admit it was just as beautiful as he’d imagined. The ice glistened as the light casted from the TARDIS hit it, making them twinkle just as brightly as the stars in the background.

It was about as romantic as you could get.

“Woah,” (Y/N) gaped at his side, and the Doctor turned to look, smile slowly lighting up his face as he watched his companion’s eyes travel from heart to heart. “What... what is this?”

“It’s carbon monoxide ice,” the Doctor informed softly, the smile on his face widening as his hearts thrummed in his chest. His companion had an astonished look on her face, eyes wide with childlike curiosity. “Like that of Mars in your solar system. No one’s really sure how they take shape but... well, they’re quite the sight.”

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed out, almost like her breath was taken away by the sight.

The Doctor had been told by many, had seen for himself as beauty takes away people’s breath. He’d been there too, once or twice with his current companion.

He barely even caught his words as they left his mouth—his heart speaking before his brain had a chance to filter his words, “Like you.”

That was his moment of error, the Doctor noticed.

He frowned to himself as his companion slowly pulled themself away, shying away from his side and retreating back into the TARDIS with one last lingering glance at the ice. The Doctor’s hearts froze within his chest, as he watched uncertainly—unsure just how he’d managed to mess this one up as well.

“It’s late,” (Y/N) muttered softly before leaving the Doctor alone in the TARDIS doorway, the man’s gaze locked on one lone heart with a barely noticeable crack down the center. It wouldn’t be long before the orbit around them pulled the frail pieces apart, severing the heart into two.

The TimeLord forced a breath, squeezing his eyes shut for just a moment as he resided completely with the cracked heart.

He didn’t understand.

The clumps of frozen carbon monoxide made his hearts hurt the longer he stared, so he was quick to follow on his companion’s footsteps, spinning on his heels and shuffling back inside, making sure to shut the doors behind him.

He wanted to flee this place, this failed attempt, but he couldn’t bring himself around to flying the TARDIS at the moment. He didn’t have the energy too. Like expected, (Y/N) had disappeared into the TARDIS, so the Doctor plopped heavily down on the seat.

Maybe it was time to accept the fact that his companion did not reciprocate his feelings. That he was barking up the wrong tree. He’d thought that they were... but maybe he was wrong.

The Doctor stared up at the TARDIS ceiling, his space and time machine giving a little hum as if she could feel his worries and mood. His hand patted the back of his seat halfheartedly as a promise that he was okay.

It had never been this hard with any other companion. There was just something so special about (Y/N). Something he wanted to get closer too, even though he knew he’d end up hurt in the end. Something he wasn’t sure he’d ever get now.

Maybe it was time to settle this once and for all. His gestures were overlooked, or, maybe even ignored. As much as it hurt to admit, (Y/N) didn’t seem very enthused with anything he’d done. Maybe it was the human not understanding what he was trying to do—but humans tended to like words.

The Doctor from (Y/N) in her room, perched on the edge of her bed. (Y/N)’s attention raised when the Doctor announced his arrival with a sturdy knock on the slivered-open door. The knock pushed the door in enough for the Doctor to poke his head in.

“Do you, uh, have a moment?” He asked cautiously, almost ready for the rejection he’d been living with for the better part of travelling with (Y/N). He’d grown used to it, but it still tugged at his heart strings. She’d never deny him conversation, but he could still see and feel her pulling away from him.

“Of course,” (Y/N) sat up a little more, giving the Doctor her full attention. “What’s the matter?”

He hadn’t thought this far ahead, the Doctor realizes as he shifts from foot to foot in (Y/N)’s doorway, mind vacant of any thoughts. (Y/N) tilted her head at the Doctor’s odd silence, studying him from her spot, “Doctor...? Are you okay?”

“Yes,” the man cleared his throat. Then did so a second time before continuing, “I wanted to, uhm, know what you thought about the, uh,” he gestured broadly behind him, hoping his companion could piece his question together.

“The ice hearts?”

It was a good thing his companion was so clever.

“Yes, the hearts.” The Doctor nods, fingers tapping awkwardly against his side. “Did you... did you like them?”

“They were beautiful,” (Y/N) repeated once again, fidgeting with her own fingers, “it was a bit unexpected, but... yeah, I did. Thanks for showing me them.”

The man gave a nod, but didn’t voice anything. If he thought his voice would’ve come out naturally instead of the anxious waver he was sure would be there, he definitely would’ve replied with a soft ‘My pleasure,’ because it really was his pleasure to introduce (Y/N) to the beauty of the galaxy.

There was an unsettling moment of silence where neither really knew what to say.

It was the Doctor who broke it, staring at his shoes as he finally allowed the words he’d been stewing over out, “do you... not like me, (Y/N)?”

“What?” the surprise was prominent. The word rang out for a second before the Doctor lifted his gaze to settled on (Y/N)’s shocked, tense frame. Her muscles were stiff, body sitting up straighter and more alert than she had been when he’d first asked to talk. “I like you plenty,” (Y/N) assured quickly, “what gave you the idea I didn’t?”

There was a list, really. He could count things off on his fingers, but he wasn't here to be petty. The man bit his lip, leaning against the doorframe to support his weight. He honestly just wanted to know why (Y/N) was so evasive every time he so much as tried to woo her.

“You... well, uh, you never seem to care,” he made sure to word it carefully, “I... I’m not sure if you even notice, or ignore it, or what. I just, I need you to be honest with me. Why haven’t you... reciprocated any feelings?”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Doctor,” (Y/N)’s eyebrows furrowed in confusion, and one ankle crossed over the other as she leaned forwards in interest.

“Since I met you,” the Doctor swallowed, “I’ve been... I don’t know how to say it but, trying to court you, I suppose? That’s not really something humans do, but it is something TimeLords do. It’s just that... every attempt I’ve made... every try I’ve made to do something cute, or romantic, you brush it off. You’re evasive, and... I’d just like to know if that’s because you don’t reciprocate my feelings. If you don’t feel the same, we can just put this all behind us.”

“It’s not like that,” (Y/N)’s voice was quiet, a near whisper, “please don’t think it’s because I don’t like you. I do, Doctor. I just... I wasn’t sure.”

“Weren’t sure?” The man furrowed his eyebrows, “sure about what?”

“I didn’t want to risk our friendship. I noticed everything, the flower you gave me, the sweets. All the dinners, and the... the dates. Today with the ice hearts even. I didn’t know how to admit I liked you when there was a chance you didn’t like me back the same way. I don’t know what I’d do if I ruined this.”

“But the gestures and dates?” the Doctor frowned, finally stepping into (Y/N)’s room and sitting on the edge of her bed beside her. He’d thought he was being obvious.

“Very obvious,” his companion let out a little laugh, “and I should’ve known, but I was scared. You’re the best thing that’s happened to me. This adventure is a once in a lifetime opportunity, and I didn’t want to compromise that by admitting my feelings.”

He could understand that, a bit. “So... you do like me too?”

“Of course,” (Y/N)’s smile was soft, “a lot, Doctor. I just... didn’t know how to reciprocate it without there being a possibility that everything could fall through, and we’d ruin our relationship in the process. I know you were offering it, but I was nervous. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” the Doctor chastised quietly. He paused for a second before speaking again, “I’m having a hard time believing this is real,” he admitted with a tilt of his head, “you really acknowledged it all? I... never noticed.”

“Yeah,” (Y/N) smiled softly, “and I have proof it wasn’t all in vain, Doctor.” (Y/N) stood up from her spot on the bed, and moved towards her book shelf. It housed a few books, and some trinkets she’d found on their travels and liked. She continued speaking as she searched through the books, “I really enjoyed everything you put together for me since I met you. I wasn’t sure you were really doing it all to be romantic at first but... the hearts today really summed that up for me.”

The man watched as she tugged on one of the book’s spines, pulling it from the shelve and holding it in her hands for a second before she waving to retake her seat. She started flipping through the pages, so the Doctor leaned over her shoulder to watch.

“Here,” she stopped on a page towards the middle of the book. The Doctor refrained from gaping as his companion carefully pulled that singular flower he’d given her all that time ago from the book. The room was instantly filled with that sweet, alluring scent and his hand shook as he took the pressed flower into his fingers by the delicate stem.

“I thought you left this,” he admitted softly, studying the vibrant colours that had stayed even after being pressed into the book. He hadn’t noticed her bringing the flower back. Had really thought she’d left it on that planet and ignored the gesture entirely.

“I couldn’t,” his companion sighed, “it was selfish, even if I didn’t want to ruin what we had, I wanted to keep it to remember the moment. To remember you, even if we did at some point part ways.”

“You’re brilliant,” the Doctor breathed out, finally passing the flower back like it was as precious as a crown jewel or something. “So incredibly brilliant, (Y/N).”

(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed and she ducked her head away from his gaze, but it was different than the usual brushing away of his gestures. Something was different now.

They hadn’t cleared it all up, that was for sure. He still had questions, and she still had doubts. They didn’t quite understand each other yet, but it hadn’t all been in vain like he’d thought. She’d seen it all. Acknowledged it, even if not to him. His hearts swelled as he smiled lightly.

There was still a lot they needed to discuss, but for right now, the Doctor just wanted to spend a bit of time with his companion—without all the hassle of their rightful doubts and insecurities.

“Do you think we could... spend a little while longer looking out at the frozen carbon monoxide outside before we leave? It really is quite pretty, and... maybe we can talk about this more later?”

“I’d... love that, Doctor.”

“Good. Uh, great,” he cleared his throat, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. His companion giggled at him, but he didn’t mind in the slightest, “allons-y, (Y/N).”

<><><><>

Once again, sorry this took so long! I’m hoping to keep this momentum going and keep getting out the requests in waiting! I hope you all liked this fic, it was a bunch of fun to write! I thoroughly enjoyed creating the frozen carbon monoxide hearts, so I hope you all liked that as well!

As always, feel free to prompt me again if this wasn’t what you were looking for (though it might take a while to get around to it if you do!) and thanks once more for requesting. Hoping everyone had a good morning/day/night!

#Tenth Doctor #tenth doctor x reader #tenth doctor x you #ten #10th doctor #10th doctor x reader #10th doctor x you #10 #doctor who #doctor who 2005 #TARDIS #writing prompt #writing requests #reader insert #fanfiction #fanfic

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starlightsailfish · 2 years ago

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After years of wanting to, I finally did it: I watched all 7 SAW films.

It was such a ride I'm sad it's over and now I don't know what to do with everything I've experienced so Imma do the next best thing and give my thoughts on every movie below the cut! :D

SAW: powerful, brilliant, innovative, and delightfully stupid! The editing is so janky and the story kinda repetitive with how often it goes into flashbacks, but Lawrence and Adam seal the deal for me. It was the only film to really have me sitting there at the end close to tears. Adam's humor is so great, the traps are effective without being super gory, Lawrence is the perfect bastard, and the whole thing just feels so genuine and fun!

SAW 2: The nerve gas one! I loved Amanda and baby Daniel and the cinamatography was really striking in this one! Laura, Allison, and Xavier were all great supporting characters with some hidden depth to them. Also loved Kerry, Eric, and Rigg's dynamic and am sad we never see them all together again. Very solid movie, not the most action-packed so it doesn't hold my attention too well, but still very enjoyable!

SAW 3: FUCK THIS ONE! Hated all the medical stuff and grossness but that's just me. Amanda's story was super interesting and we even got to see Adam again in the most heartbreaking way possible so...yay ;~; ALSO MARK HIIIIII 💖💖💖 Lynn and Amanda's interactions were very fun but Jeff was SO hard to root for with him just standing there half the time while people are dying around him. I get that he's grieving and its an exploration on human behavior or whatever but it wasn't fun to watch for me. I thought I would like this one a lot more but between Jeff being frustrating and the medical sideplot being gross, it was a hard and unenjoyable watch.

SAW 4: SEXIEST SAW!!! We start off with Jigsaw's cock and balls on full display so you know it's gonna be good. /jk MARK AND PETER ARE HEREEEEE OMG HIIII. Rigg is super interesting (and handsome) as he starts to fall into Jigsaw's teachings and the traps are just the right amount of gory for me! The cop side-plot is super enjoyable because Perez and Strahm are just so GOOD and funny and pretty and hnngngnnnh. Peter is such an asshole but I LOVE him! The story just feels so alive with the setting constantly changing for both of the plots and the flashbacks are pretty nice as well with Peter's little quips added in during the interogations. Opposite of SAW 3, I thought SAW 4 would be forgettable but it ended up being a big favorite!

SAW 5: This one was ok. Mark and Peter are in it so of COURSE that's a plus and we get more on poor meow meow Mark's backstory! However, the trap plot and cop plot feel so disconnected that it's almost distracting how disjointed the movie feels. I don't think it's reveiled until SAW 6 that the trap plot was tied to Strahm and even then it's mentioned so briefly. It really just feels like a group of random corrupt people were trapped just to give the movie it's gore. At least Mallick and Brit are super fun! Strahm's character feels less fun as he's mostly there to discover Hoffman's backstory and in the end he's killed off so that's no fun :(

SAW 6: BEST ONE!!! It's got it all: a connected trap and cop plot, plenty of Hoffman and John character moments, sympathetic and silly characters like William, gruesome traps (that are a little unfair but whatever), and to top it all off, it takes place in an abandoned zoo which is such a fun setting! We also get Jill's ultimate girlboss moment and Mark narrowly escaping the reverse beartrap in such a sick scene. Perez comes back only to die again which sucks but her death scene has such an incredible build up that I can't be too mad. We also get Mark awkwardly running up the stairs so honestly? This movie slaps.

SAW 7: Yeah everyone was right, this movie kinda sucks. Bobby's an interesting enough character and the survivor group scene was so COOL since we got to see Mallick and Tara and Simone and LAWRENCE again!!!! EVIL KING!!! HE'S SO FUNNY WHY DOES HE ACT LIKE THAT??? Mark is now a cheesy slasher but I'm ok with that cause I'm a freak. The visuals feel way too clean and generic and cheap and the pink blood is so distracting. Even still, the traps are either really boring or really gross so I wasn't paying the best attention... Gibson is annoying but also really funny and the main plots just feel really out of place when they don't focus on Jill or Mark. Anyways, the ending absolutely slapped though and left me feeling way too many feelings as Laarence entered the old bathroom trap and we see Adam's corpse... I think the movie was worth it for the ending alone but there were still fun scenes here and there!

Overall, my personal faves are SAW 6 and SAW 4!

Least faves are SAW 3 and SAW 2 but they all have their enjoyable moments!

Thank you all for coming to my Tedtalk! Leave your top SAW movies in the comments so we can chat!

#SAW #saw franchise #saw movies #i talk way too much about saw because i finished the series and need someone to talk to 😭😭😭

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weasleyswizardpleases · 3 years ago

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Borrowed Time

Summary: Fred has a disturbing vision after the Battle of Seven Potters, and you’re the only one he tells.

Warnings: Death mention, violence mention, sex (not described in detail but it happens), blood.

My Masterlist

Everyone is finally asleep but you and Fred, who’s refused to leave George’s side all night. George is sleeping like a baby, and by all appearances, will be fine (if a bit lopsided), but everyone is shaken by his injury. Seeing him carried in, pale as death, covered in blood- it was quite the shock. It made everything feel more real than ever. Your gut tells you this is the beginning of a very hard time for the wizarding world, and that it won’t be long before things come to a head. If the minister is removed, muggle-borns won’t be safe, nor will anyone who sides with them. You shiver and look over at Fred, who’s staring unseeingly off into the middle distance.

You’ve never seen your boyfriend look so grave in all the years you’ve known him. Of course, the Fred that everyone else sees is different from the one you see. His boisterous personality hides it well, but he has a sensitive streak, and you’ve seen his feelings hurt and his anger flare. At his core, though, he is that same silly boy everyone knows, and even the few times you’ve seen him cry, he’s cracked a joke or two through the tears.

Now, though, he just sits in silence. He’s tired, you’re sure, and frightened. You were all frightened, seeing George hurt like that.

“Darling,” you say quietly, stroking his hair as you stand up. “I’m going to put the kettle on, would you like a cup?”

“Mhm,” he says absently, not even turning to look at you. You pad into the kitchen, avoiding the creaky spots so as not to wake anyone. Harry, Hermione, Lupin, Tonks, Bill, and Fleur are all staying at the burrow tonight, in addition to the usual suspects. Everyone fears another attack, but so far, it seems that you’re safe. Tonks and Lupin are standing watch outside, and you and Fred are meant to relieve them around 2 am. You pull the kettle from the stove just as it begins to hiss and pour four cups- 2 for you and Fred, two for Nymphadora and Lupin. You deliver the watchmen their tea and kneel beside Fred’s chair to hand him his.

“Two sugars for my sugar,” you say, kissing him on the temple. He nods and sips the tea quietly.

“I love you, Y/N,” he says gravely in a hoarse whisper.

“I love you too, Freddie. I love you very much, my sweet boy.” You stand and hug him awkwardly, pulling his head to your stomach. You feel his weight slump against you.

“I want to ask you something, Y/N. Come outside. Let’s relieve the watch a bit early.”

Alone outside, you can speak openly without worry of waking or worrying anyone. Fred gazes at you lovingly in the moonlight.

“Would you stay with me even if you knew it would end soon?” he asks. Your stomach lurches.

“What?”

“I mean, I love you, but I’m not sure I’m going to be around much longer.”

“Don’t be silly. I know what happened with George today was scary, but hopefully that’s as bad as it gets.”

“Do you really believe that?”

“No,” you say sadly, “I don’t. I don’t think any of us is safe while Voldemort lives. Especially not friends of Harry. But no offense, there’s nothing special about you. Why, they’ll probably come after Ron before they even learn your name.” Fred laughs dryly.

“What if I told you I had a vision?”

“Like a dream?”

“Yes, but I was awake. You were there. It was when we were sitting with George, just earlier.”

“You looked a bit troubled.”

“I am a bit troubled.”

“Well, what did you see?” He studies the ground, not answering. A minute or so goes by. “Fred, you’re scaring me. What did you see?”

“I saw myself,” he pauses, swallows, then goes on. “I saw myself dead. There was a big battle, with dementors and giants. I think the dark lord was there. You were there. So was George and Ginny and some other people I don’t remember. Some of the details I didn’t really understand. There was a load of smoke and dust and it was quite dark, and Percy! Percy was there, running around, looking for me, shouting my name, but he couldn’t find me, because I was dead.”

“Fred, listen, divination, it’s not-”

“This was real. Tea leaves, crystal balls, I don’t know. But this was real. I promise you, there was more detail than I could imagine, things I wouldn’t make up, even in my nightmares.” He turns and grabs you by the shoulders, looking you in the eyes very seriously. “I’m going to die. I don’t know how, and I don’t know exactly when, but it’s coming, and I don’t have long.”

“There’s no way, there must be something we can look into. Let’s talk to Trelawney, or to Pavarti, or, I don’t know maybe Hermione could do some research that would help us interpret this. I mean, you can’t just decide you’re going to die because of some vision. You’re not going anywhere. I won’t let you.”

“I’m afraid it’s not up to you, darling,” he says softly. “Just believe me. If you had seen what I saw, you would know what I know. I’m going to die.” You pause and study his face. He’s serious as death, pale, his face lined with worry. He looks frightened, but determined. Fred Weasley may be many things, but he’s sure of himself. Right now, though, you wish he weren’t. You believe him. You collapse into his arms and sob. He cries with you, holding you tightly. You slide to the ground together, slumping into each other’s arms, wracked with tears. You’ve never heard him keen like this, his sobs turning to screams that scrape through his body. You hold him while he shakes and cries out, until eventually, he has no tears left. You kiss his wet face and wipe the snot and tears away with the hem of your shirt. You kiss his brow, and his forehead, and the bridge of his nose, and the corner of his mouth.

“Of course I’d stay with you, Freddie. I love you forever. I love you no matter what.” You kiss the part in his hair, and his ear, and his neck. The corner of his mouth. The space at the center of his collarbones. Silently, you fall into one another’s arms again, slipping behind the bushes and making love, quietly, reverently. You’ve never felt closer to him, or more desperate to hold him to you.

Afterwards, you help him button his shirt. He brushes your wild hair away from your face, smiling solemnly at the familiar gesture.

“I wanted to ask you something else.”

“I don’t know if I can take anything else tonight,” you say, laughing quietly.

“I think you’ll like this one. I hope you will.”

“Alright then. Shoot.” Fred straightens his back, tidying his hair with his hands and buttoning his top button. He grins at you excitedly, looking a bit nervous. You have no idea what to expect. He takes a deep breath and gets down on one knee. Your jaw drops.

“Y/N L/N, will you marry me?”

“Fred! Yes! Yes! Yes! Of course!” He springs up and takes you in his arms, kissing you passionately.

“I’m sorry, I’ll get you a ring, it’s just- I was going to wait but-”

“No, no I don’t care about a ring, I don’t care about any of that! This was perfect, you’re perfect. I love you so much.”

“Well that saves us a bit of money for the funeral, then.”

“Freddie! Don’t joke!”

“That’s an extremely tall order.” You laugh and shake your head, taking his hand in yours.

“The sun’s coming up. Shall we go inside?” you ask, smiling.

“I think so,” he agrees, and you walk arm in arm together into the rest of your lives.

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yellowsuitcase · 4 years ago

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I missed you // Draco Malfoy

A/N: This was an anonymous request I received about 4 days ago. It took me a while to write it because school was A LOT this week and I’ve been so exhausted from trying to keep up with everything. I’ve also started trying to shift so if anyone has any tips on that, please let me know! Otherwise, I hope you enjoy!

Summary: Draco and Y/N have mutually broken up and have started experimenting with other people. But it’s only a matter of time before Draco gets jealous.

Warning(s): Swearing

Word Count: 2.5k

It was for the best. Wasn’t it? He didn’t love her anymore, and nor did she. That happens sometimes. People just fall out of love. It was mutual; there was no fight, nobody was angry. The relationship had run its course, no feed to fuss about it. Besides, it wouldn’t have made sense for them to remain, boyfriend and girlfriend, when they’d each lost feelings.

If all of that is true...then why does it hurt so much? Y/N wondered as she lay flat on her back, the bedsheets around her in disarray from all her tossing and turning. She knew there was no way she’d find sleep easily tonight, not after the breakup. She felt as if a piece of her had been forcefully ripped from her. But why? She had a hunch for almost an entire month that she’d lost feelings for Draco. Shouldn’t she have been prepared for the end? Alas, Y/N knew that completely preparing oneself for a breakup is an impossible feat.

These thoughts swirled through her brain as she finally closed her eyes. She clutched the sheets in her palms, trying to ground herself. Her forehead was tense with wrinkles as she was already anticipating the nightmares. But nevertheless, after a few more minutes of restlessness, her body’s need for slumber overtook her.

When she awoke the next morning, she could practically feel the bags sitting under her eyes. She could only guess that her sleep had been plagued with nightmares as she was lucky enough not to have any recollection. Her head pounded as she sat up in her bed. Her roommate gave her a pitiful and knowing look. Y/N took in a deep breath and clambered out of bed.

It didn’t take her very long to get ready since she frankly didn’t care whether or not she looked presentable today. She made sure her teeth were brushed and that her tie was on correctly and walked out of the dorms. Truthfully, she knew she wasn’t very hungry, but people would ask questions if she missed breakfast. While walking to the Great Hall, she was startled by someone jumping right in front of her.

“Good morning!” George Weasley said. “Why the long face?”

Y/N gave him a weak smile and said, “I didn’t sleep well, that’s all.”

George looked skeptical but pushed no further. He fell into step beside her.

“Where’s Freddie?” she asked.

“Morning detention with Filch, he slipped a puking pastille into his drink.”

“You had nothing to do with it?” she asked, a doubtful smile on her lips.

George shrugged, smirking as he did so. “I have my ways,” he said while bumping her shoulder slightly. She looked up at him with a fake mean glare as they strode into the Great Hall. Y/N caught sight of Draco immediately. He was where he always sat in the morning. Usually, she would’ve made a beeline for the space next to him. Today, that spot was taken by Pansy Parkinson, a Slytherin girl who had always taken a keen liking to Draco. Y/N stopped in her tracks and stared. Pansy was fawning over him, running her hands up his arms. Y/N felt anger begin to rise in her chest...but then she remembered.

Shaking her head, she forced her feet to follow George to where he had sat down at the Gryffindor table. He was talking animatedly with his mates and didn’t notice Y/N standing behind him awkwardly while she tried to figure out whether or not she was wanted at the table; she was a Slytherin after all.

George eventually took notice of the presence behind him when his friend nodded his head towards her. “Y/N, did you want to sit? Thought you’d be with Malfoy. Has something happened?”

She sighed as she threw her leg over the bench and sat down. “Yeah, we broke up,” she said softly.

“Broke up? He didn’t do anything, did he?” George asked while turning to look at Draco.

“No, no. It was mutual. He didn’t do anything.”

“Good. Well, cheer up then. You’re a free woman now. The world is yours, right?”

Y/N smiled at George. “Yeah, you’re right, it is. I don’t know why I’ve been sulking so much. I lost feelings, and so did he. Nothing more to it.”

“Yeah, that’s the spirit! Who needs Malfoy anyway?” George bellowed, successfully making Y/N giggle. She felt her stomach rumble. This surprised her; she didn’t expect to be in a good enough mood to be hungry. But the buttered rolls on the table now looked extremely appetizing.

---------

{A few months later}

Draco paced back and forth in front of the mirror. He was nervous. In nearly twenty minutes, he’d be on his first date since breaking up with Y/N. He couldn’t believe he was really going on a date. With Pansy Parkinson, nonetheless. These past few months, she’d really grown on him. She was from a pureblood family, she was kind to him, and she was rather pretty. Draco knew his parents would love her. He could only hope he could grow to do the same.

He gathered his courage and left the bathroom. They had agreed to meet outside the potions classroom. It was an odd location, but Pansy suggested it, and Draco had no reason to object it. As he walked down the middle of the corridors, his mind began to race. What would she be wearing? Would she like him? Would they become boyfriend and girlfriend after this? Would Y/N find out? What would she think?

Draco’s face grew tense. What a silly thought to have. He wouldn’t actually date Pansy. And as for Y/N, he knew she wouldn’t care. She and George have had a thing for a few weeks now. They were always holding hands or sitting shoulder to shoulder, lovey-dovey stuff like that. He had even given her a kiss on the cheek. The image of it was burned into Draco’s memory.

He was pulled out of his thoughts when he saw Pansy outside the classroom. She had her back leaned against the wall. She donned a dark green dress that reached her mid-thigh. Her hair was wavy and fell over her bare shoulders. Draco exhaled sharply. He felt the anxiety in his stomach but was determined not to show it.

“You clean up nice, Parkinson,” he said cooly and confidently while nodding his chin towards her.

Pansy rolled her eyes, “Thank you, Malfoy. You look handsome as well,” she said while scanning him up and down, her voice slow and sensual. Draco shifted his feet, feeling uncomfortable. “Shall we?” he asked. Pansy smirked and pushed off the wall and sauntered over to him. She reached for his hand and grasped it tightly in hers. Draco had to fight the internal instinct to wriggle his hand out of hers.

Just as they were about to go, they heard a noise from behind them. They turned around saw none other than Y/N, her arms full of potion ingredients and notebooks. She looked like a deer caught in headlights.

“Stealing potion ingredients, Y/N?” Pansy asked with a knowing smirk on her face.

Y/N’s eyes shifted back and forth between the pair. When her eyes landed on their interlocked fingers, she straightened her spine and frowned. “You know perfectly well that we have a section that’s open to students. And it’s none of your business anyway,” she spat.

But Pansy was unfazed. “Lavender, Flobberworm mucus, and valerian sprigs. What’s wrong, Y/N? Can’t fall asleep? Oh no, don’t tell me you get nightmares,” Pansy taunted, using a voice one might use when speaking to a baby or a dog.

Draco watched as Y/N’s face turned red. He knew she’d always struggled with nightmares and would often have to make herself a sleeping draught potion to be able to get some genuine rest. As he looked at the ingredients in her hands, he noticed she was short on a few of them.

“You don’t have enough,” he said without thinking. Both girls’ eyes turned to him. He ignored Pansy’s and instead focused on Y/N’s.

She waited a few beats before replying, “Snape has stopped refilling the supply. He said I need to stop relying on it so much,” she muttered. Her head had turned away from the couple. Draco’s eyebrows knitted together. When did she become so dependent on those potions? While they were together, she’d only need it maybe once every few weeks.

He didn’t have time to wonder about it any further. Pansy had begun walking and dragged Draco with her. Leaving Y/N alone in the cold dungeons, watching them go.

----------

Draco stared through the leaves of the tree he lied underneath. Classes were over, and he was relaxing before Crabbe and Goyle were bound to come and bother him. The week had dragged on for what seemed like years. Frankly, he was ready to crawl into bed and sleep the next few days away, but he had already made plans for the weekend.

He allowed his eyes to close, and the stress from the week began to leave his body. But his peacefulness was short-lived. Loud cheers made their way to his ears. He sat up angrily, ready to hex whoever decided to irritate him. However, all that frustration dissipated when he saw what people were cheering for. When he saw it, time seemed to stop.

George was holding Y/N in his arms, she was parallel with the ground, and her lips were pressed against his. He was kissing her passionately while her hands gripped his shirt collar.

Draco felt his heart sink. The only word running through his brain was “no.” No, no, no, no. After he watched the scene in front of him for nearly a minute, he decided he couldn’t stand it any longer. He jumped to his feet and stomped out of the courtyard, passing Pansy as he did so.

“Draco, what’s wrong? What’s happened?” she asked, her face was strewn up in confusion as to why Draco’s shoulders were heaving.

“Not now, Parkinson,” Draco snapped.

“But Draco—”

“Shut up! Merlin, do you ever shut that trap of yours?” he shouted at her. Her eyes widened in shock, but Draco paid her no mind. He was halfway down the corridor when he thought better of himself and turned around. Rage overtook his body as he stormed back into the open courtyard and headed right for George and Y/N. They noticed him coming towards them and took a few steps back. George took Y/N’s hand and pulled her behind him.

“What d’you want Malfoy?”

“Move, Weaslebee, I’m not here for you.”

George pursed his lips and withdrew his wand. He was intent on not letting Malfoy come any closer to the girl behind him. “If you’re here for her, you’re not getting her.”

Draco clenched his fists and also withdrew his wand. He aimed it straight at George’s face. “Move,” he demanded.

George widened his stance and raised his wand towards the blonde boy. “No,” he said firmly.

Draco inhaled and opened his mouth, but before he could hex George, a golden light shot towards Draco’s hand, and suddenly his wand was thirty feet across the yard.

Y/N emerged from behind George. Her wand was clutched in her palm. “There’s no need to fight. I can decide whether I want to speak with someone, and I certainly don’t need protection. So if you’ll excuse me, it’s obvious that Draco and I need to have a chat.”

She didn’t waste a moment; she began to make her way towards the exit. Draco quickly came to his senses and went to fetch his wand before hurrying after her.

He followed her through many hallways before she stopped outside the Slytherin dorms. “Salazar,” she muttered. The walls opened up before her, and she and Draco walked down the stairs into the eerie common room.

Y/N took a seat at the couch on the left of the fireplace. It was the couch they’d use to cuddle on after a long day. It felt weird to sit on it now since they both sat on opposite ends.

“Let’s not waste time,” she said, “you’re obviously upset. Care to tell me why?”

Draco scoffed and threw his arm over the back of the leather sofa. “Weasley, huh?”

“Draco, don’t be a git. We’ve been broken up for months. I’m allowed to see other people, aren’t I? I mean, you went on a date with Pansy.”

He shook his head vehemently and shifted in his seat. He couldn’t sit still, he was so angry.

“Speak, Draco. You know we can’t work any of our issues out if you don’t speak,” Y/N reminded him.

He let out an angry sigh and turned to face his ex-girlfriend. He had expected her to look just as mad as him, but instead, her eyes were filled with worry and concern. Her hand was pressed into the couch, and her body was slightly leaning forward. Draco felt the fire within his chest begin to die. He took another breath before talking.

“I can’t stand it. I can’t stand it, Y/N. Seeing you with someone else fucking kills me. It makes me so angry. When he kissed you, I… I forgot how to breathe. It was like a dementor had come and sucked all the happiness from my veins. I was infuriated, not just at him but at myself. How could I let someone else hold you?”

Y/N stared at him with soft, gentle eyes. Slowly, she reached for his rigid fist that was resting on his lap. She took it into her hands and felt the tension leave. She had always had that effect on Draco. Her touch was able to calm his stiffness with ease.

“What am I saying?” Draco wondered out loud as he shamefully wiped a tear from his cheek, “you’re not mine anymore. I know that, and yet…” he trailed off.

“Then make me yours again,” Y/N whispered.

Draco’s head whipped towards her. He saw a look of nervousness on her face. Steadily, he took her head into his hands. He moved his head slightly below hers, forcing her to look into his eyes.

“Do you mean that?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper. Almost as if he was afraid to ask.

Y/N nodded her head, “I do. God, I do. It’s always been you, Draco. I’m so sorry—” She was cut off by Draco pulling her in for a kiss. Y/N felt herself melt into his embrace; she felt at home again.

He pulled away to catch his breath. “I’m sorry too. I never stopped loving you. I know that now. Please, let me be yours again.”

Y/N smiled, “I missed you, Malfoy,” she said with a small chuckle. Draco felt a grin spread on his face, and he dove back in for another kiss.

“I missed you more. Don’t you ever let me walk away from you again, you hear?” Draco asked playfully. Y/N laughed and gave him a quick peck on the nose.

“I solemnly swear,” she said in a fake deep voice while trying not to giggle. Draco rolled his eyes and tackled her onto the couch, causing her to squeal happily. He wrapped his arms around her tightly, vowing to himself to never let go of her again.

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy x you #draco malfoy x yn #draco x reader #george weasley #request #jealous #draco malfoy fluff #fluff #angst #draco malfoy imagines

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its-not-a-phase-mom-i-d8-demons · 4 years ago

Text

The Undateables Reaction to MC having a Nightmare

Pairings: Diavolo x MC, Barbatos x MC, Simeon x MC

Warnings: FEM!READER!!!, swearing?, kissing, a miniscule mention of blood and zombies lol, luke being a sweetie pie (as per usual), just comfort in general bc i’m needy, mention of a panic attack, big daddy diavolo can fucking rail me ok?

A/N: people make fun of me for liking diavolo :(( so I had to get this out of my system

Diavolo

Confused

I mean, he’s had nightmares before of course, but he’s never seen a human have one

He didn’t even know humans had the capacity to dream until a few nights before

So when he wakes up to you writhing around in the silken sheets, crying and begging some unknown entity to “please stop” and “don’t hurt him” with tears soaking your face, he was stumped

You seemed distressed so he did the only thing he could think of; wake you up

Now, this baby

He didn’t know, ok?

When he grips you firmly by the shoulders and gives you a good shake he only succeeds in scaring you a lot more

Your hand shoots up and you drag your nails across his pretty face in blind defense and wake up, tangled in mounds of silk, with a hulking figure hunched over next to you

Falling off the bed, you scramble as far as you can away from the monster and into a corner of the room

Barbatos, after hearing all the commotion, enters the room at that moment, allowing light from the hallway to flood the dark bedroom

“My lord, MC, what on earth is going on?!” He asks, noticing you crouching in the corner and he goes to you and rests a gentle hand on your shoulder, “My lady, are you alright? What did the young lord do to you?”

“Barbatos?” You whimper, tentatively peeking up from your hands.

“You can tell me, I’ll deal with him myself.”

“MC? Where’d you go, dove?” Came Diavolo’s disoriented voice from the bed, “Why’d you scratch me?”

A second later Barbatos was on his feet in a somewhat defensive stance, protecting you from any advance the demon lord could make.

You were still behind him crying less stormily, but crying nonetheless. Noticing how the butler was posed, you only started crying harder.

“Barbatos, please, i-it wasn’t him! It was me!” You said, emotion choking your sweet voice, “I h-had a bad dream and when I woke up, I hurt him!”

Cocking a brow, the butler strode toward the light switch (i think they have electricity??) and upon flicking it on, understood what had happened.

The demon lord was still slightly hunched over on the mattress, nursing a scratched, bloody cheek, you were crouched against the far wall, sniffling and crying out of fear, the bed was a mess…

“Correct me if I’m wrong MC, did you have a nightmare?” He asked gently, “Can you move?”

“M-hm.” You nodded shakily, tears stil streaming down your flushed cheeks.

“Let me help you stand… there. Lord Diavolo, humans are fragile creatures, especially after such an ordeal. I trust you can calm her down?”

“Of course! Ah, Barbatos, would you mind getting some tea and possibly a bandage or two?”

“My thoughts exactly. I will be back promptly.”

Then the butler left the room.

Diavolo dabbed at his face with the shirt he’d discarded before getting into bed and turned to you. “MC, love, what happened?”

With a sob, you threw yourself into his arms, buried your face in his chest, and began to cry again. It was a terrible dream, all seven brothers and the rest of the devildom, including Barbatos had turned into zombies. After running and fighting for most of the dream, you and the Demon King had finally been cornered by an endless horde of zombies and slowly you realized there was no hope. Just as the brothers were about to pounce on your royal boyfriend, he’d looked behind him and said, “I’ll always love you my darling MC-” and that’s when a zombie grabbed you and started shaking you violently, effectively and abruptly rousing you and causing a minor panic attack.

Diavolo stroked your hair oh so gently until Barbatos returned with the tea and handed you a cup of the steaming, sweet-smelling liquid to calm your nerves. After taking a few teary sips, the warmth spread down to your toes almost immediately and you were able to stop crying.

“Talk to me,” He murmured, tilting his face to Barbatos while he cleaned and wrapped his wound, his amber eyes on you all the while, “What happened?”

“Bad d-dream,” You stuttered, clutching the delicate teacup with white knuckles, “The brothers got hurt, t-turned into zombies to be specific a-and it was just us but then they got you and Mammon started screaming a-and shaking me-”

“That was me, dove. I sincerely apologize, I didn’t know what was wrong, nor a way to properly handle it.” Diavolo brushed stray tears from your flushed cheeks and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, “Forgive me?”

You nodded, sighing with a body-wracking shudder and settled back into your boyfriend’s muscled arms.

“My Lord, in case this happens a second time, why don’t you ask MC how she would prefer to be roused from such a dream. These things can be traumatic for their minds, it’s best to put her at ease.”

“Indeed.” The tanned redhead nodded, holding out your empty teacup for the butler to refill, “Dearest, how can I help?”

Barbatos

Knows this happens to humans and wasn’t surprised when you had one only a few weeks into staying at the palace

Prolly read a book or seven to learn this human bs

You claimed it was only from your new surroundings at the breakfast table, as to but the Lord and his butler at ease, but Barbatos is very intuitive

In fact, he’d seen you walk from your bedroom to the bathroom, hugging a blanket around yourself and sniffling, looking very frightened for a reason he didn’t know

Now he did

Hmm

The next evening, around two in the morning, you come running out of your room crying, hoping to find someone, and eventually, you did

Thinking it was one of the brothers, you crashed into them, wrapping your arms around their waist and burying your face in their chest, crying stormily until you felt the demon awkwardly pat your head with a gloved hand

…

Lucifer didn’t wear his gloves to bed… did he?

Did he even go to bed in the first place?

Probably not

Since when did Mammon wear a tailored waistcoat to bed?

Levi smelled different too, more like tea leaves, dishsoap, and ink than the salty ocean and fabric softener you were used to

Satans forearms were thicker than these as well; hours of holding books to his face gave him a little muscle

Where was the gentle coo and giggle you always got when you snuggled with Asmo?

Where the pecs your head usually rested on when Beel gave you one of his otherworldly hugs?

Why wasn’t Belphie’s shaggy hair tickling your face?

Wait

You look up and to your horror and embarrassment, it’s Barbatos. Not Beel, or Mammon, or Asmo (who you had been hoping to see) instead, it’s an extremely handsome butler with a very concerned look on his face

“MC? What happened?”

“B-Barbatos! I-I I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-” You begin to back away, stuttering and tripping over your words while tears continue to soak the collar of your nightshirt, but before you can escape, gentle hands stop you.

One slender, gloved hand cups your cheek, brushing away tears, and another gently holds the small of your back.

“It’s alright, no need to apologize,” He spoke softly as not to scare you any further, “Come with me, I’ll make us some tea.”

The butler wraps you in a blanket and makes you comfy on the couch in the sitting area before starting the hot water and returning to the room.

He stood in the doorway awkwardly until you asked in a tiny voice, “Would you… would you mind s-sitting with me?”

“Of course.”

Not too close at first, but eventually after you cuddle up to his side, Barbatos settles an arm around your shoulders and tucks a strand of hair behind your ear.

“What happened?”

“Um…” You kept your eyes downcast, knowing you’d told him your dreams weren’t a big deal, but he knew.

“Dreams again?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“Tell me about this one.”

“You g-got crushed by a m-massive stack of papers a-and Lord Diavolo was just laughing. I couldn’t move, I-I wanted to help, I just-” You sighed, “Th-Then a big stack of paperwork started falling toward me too a-and I woke up before I got squished. I know it’s silly and ch-childish but it was terrifying. I hope I didn’t mess up your schedule.”

“That would be rather upsetting, I’m sorry MC,” He murmured, getting up for the whistling kettle, “But don’t think like that, it’s normal. One moment please.”

You nod and sink deeper into the luxurious warm cocoon the butler had made for you. He hands you a teacup and settles down next to you once again.

“Is there anything I can do to make these dreams stop?” He asks softly, dabbing your face with a handkerchief, “The Demon Lord requested for your utmost contentment during your stay, so-”

“C-Can I stay with you?” You blurted out, quickly taking a gulp of hot tea and instantly regretting it.

Even in the dim light, your convulsing form noticed a light pink tint on his cheeks as he rushed to get you water.

Simeon

He’d only ever known Luke to have nightmares (since he is baby) so you can imagine…

Deadass, when he wakes up to you writhing around and screaming at two in the morning, he almost called an exorcist

…

In the devildom

Does anyone else see the irony-

Nevermind

“LUKE, SOLOMON! WHAT’S WRONG WITH MC??? SHE’S CRYING AND SCREAMING ALL OF A SUDDEN, I THINK A DEAMON GOT HER-” *heavy scared boyfriend breathing*

Solomon was kicking Luke’s ass at Uno (yes, at two in the morning) so both of them follow the distressed angel back to his room

You’re awake, curled up in a little ball against the headboard, rocking back and forth and crying into Simeon’s pillow

“MC?” Luke asks, a little scared as he approaches the bed.

You lift your head just enough to see his pretty baby face and then reach for him, caressing his cheek to make sure the tiny angel was really there

“You ok?” He murmurs, resting one of his smaller hand on your own, “Bad dream I’m guessing?”

You nod, lip trembling with emotion and residual fear, “Don’t go-” You begged, “I don’t know where Simeon went…”

“I’m here love, right here.” The taller angel now knelt down next to where Luke was standing, took your other trembling hand, and pressed comforting kisses to your knuckles.

You whisper a soft ‘thank you’ to Luke and Solomon as they take their leave. As soon as the door shut behind them, Simeon slid under the blankets next to you and let you attach yourself to him like a koala while his pretty nose fell into your messy locks.

Gradually, your breathing went back to its normal, comforting tempo and you began to melt into his embrace. He seemed to radiate warmth to the very marrow of your bones and soon, everything was ok again.

“What’s troubling you so, love? What caused this?” He asks, running slender fingers through your tousled locks.

“I don’t know,” You sigh, breathing in his heavenly musk, “I guess I’ve been a lot more stressed than usual. Exams are coming up and it’s hard to study when I’m at the brother’s beck and call since they can’t get along for more than 3 seconds. Plus, these classes are a lot more difficult than the ones we have in the human world.”

The angel nods, giving you a squeeze and a reassuring kiss to the crown of your head, “I can see why. Unlike you, most humans are very simple minded and plain dumb. I’ve already learned this material because of my ranking as an angel, so if you need a tutor, I’m here to help, sweetheart.”

“I’d like that.” You smile, tender aquamarine orbs meeting your own before closing and lips meeting for a slow, sensual dance of your unbounded love for eachother. Your interlocked fingers gave a squeeze before he released you, panting.

“Anything for my seraph.”

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nsheetee · 5 years ago

Note

Can you do a part of the idol!jisung x idol!reader like when they first got together

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 || Final

summary: in which jisung and you first meet at the vending machines at inkigayo and are star struck (in more than one way)

you were thirsty

you just wanted some tea

it’s your good luck ritual before going on stage: buying a bottle of tea at the vending machine with your own money

you know it’s silly to base your whole performance on this one little ritual

but once it got into your head that you needed your bottle of tea, you would do anything to get it to ensure a successful performance on your part

this small ritual also stopped your pre-performance jitters and calmed your heart down

“tea time?” one of your members teased you as she saw you taking money out of your wallet

“yeah,” you roll your eyes, “do you know where the vending machines are?”

“no clue.”

“wow, thanks for all your help.” you reply sarcastically, sending a bye over your shoulder as you walk out of your dressing room and begin to wander around the sbs building

the area becomes empty once you walk down a few hallways, your head swiveling every which way

you round the corner and there it is, your precious vending machine

and also park jisung

although you can only see his back, you can tell who he is by his performance wear and tall height that almost matches the vending machines’

you stand, completely starstruck, tightly gripping your cash in your fist

when you were training, park jisung was your inspiration, even at such a young age

you never thought you’d be able to meet him face to face, and for some reason, the nervous butterflies in your stomach erupt quicker now than when you’re about to perform on stage

you look around the area- there doesn’t seem to be any of his staff or other members around

jisung is staring at the drinks inside the machine, stoic yet focused at the same time

you could just walk around some more to find another vending machine, but you already spotted your favorite brand of tea and are determined to buy it

you clear your throat, startling jisung into turning around

his eyes immediately widened when he recognizes you, and you both quickly bow and greet each other in formal mumbles of “hello’s” and “excuse me’s”

he moves away from the machine as you come closer, allowing you to step up and slip your money in

“the machine works, right?” you ask and jisung’s eyes widen, quickly looking around to see if you’re actually talking to him before answering

“yes. I-I mean, I don’t know. it should, shouldn’t it?” he stutters out and you bite your lip to keep from smiling

while your inspiration came from jisung, he was absolutely awed by your dancing ability and took notice of you when you first debuted

he couldn’t believe you’re standing in front of him, actually talking to him

and at inkigayo, no less

“you were just staring at it… I was afraid that it wasn’t working.” you explain before pressing the correct button and waiting a few moments for the machine to spit out your drink and change back

“ah, that’s because I really wanted some tea, but I don’t have any cash and no one will give me any because they don’t think I’ll ever pay them back.” jisung laughs awkwardly, realizing he’s probably talking too much

“oh, if that’s it…” you shrug, putting your change back into the machine and pressing a button, another bottle of tea falling down, “here.”

you dig the bottle out of the machine and hold it out to jisung

he looks shocked, but smiles cutely before taking the drink

“I’ll pay you back! I know what I said earlier makes it sound like I won’t, but I swear I will.” he assures you, clutching the bottle of tea to his chest

“it’s okay,” you laugh, “you don’t have to.”

“no, I will.”

“honestly, I-” you stop yourself, thinking about the next words that are going to leave your mouth, deciding that this might be your only chance to tell jisung how much he inspired you the past few years

“I’ve been a fan of yours for years. you were my inspiration when I was training, not just in dancing but in attitude towards being an idol. this is the least I could do.”

you feel embarrassment fill your chest as you bow politely and walk away before you can say anything else to humiliate yourself

although the words you told him might be a bit cringey, you don’t regret them

they’re all true

even though jisung’s promise of paying you back means you’ll see each other again sometime, you’re sure you’ll never run into jisung like that ever again

so what was the harm in praising him?

well, you do run into jisung again

this time, quite literally

you’re at a radio station, getting ready for an interview with your members when you decide you need something to drink

your head is lost in your wallet as you try to count your change, and you don’t notice someone leaning one hand against the vending machine you’re approaching

you accidentally bump into them and begin to apologize, but when you notice that it’s park jisung, you stop talking and gaze at each other in curiosity

“oh, it’s you?”

“we should stop meeting like this.” he laughs, noticing how familiar the scene in front of him is

you remember the last words you told him, embarrassment suddenly filling you and you avert your eyes, trying to find something else to look at other than jisung’s new hair color that suits him so, so, so well

jisung seems to notice your sudden uneasiness and he panics

for some reason, he doesn’t like that you feel nervous around him

he wants you to feel comfortable and relaxed in his presence

it’s an insane feeling to have after only meeting each other two times, but jisung can’t help it

“about what you said last time…” he trails off

he’s still amazed that fate could bring two people (who are each other’s role models) together by such a funny coincidence

“please,” you hold up a hand, “I’m sorry, I thought I’d never see you aga-”

“no!” jisung practically yells, making both of you look around the small area to see if you caught anyone’s attention, and then turning back to each other

“no, I just- I wanted to say thank you?” it comes out more like a question, “I mean, you’re obviously a very good dancer, and I’ve been watching you for a while now-” jisung’s eyes widen at his awkward wording

“I mean… I’ve noticed how amazing you are on stage.” you giggle at his stammer, and he continues, “telling me that I inspired you is… wow. I still can’t believe it.”

you feel yourself become hot at the unexpected compliment and you attempt to gulp down your nerves

with shaking hands, you step forward and put some money in the vending machine

it spits out two teas, you grab one and hold out the other to jisung

“let’s call this an agreement? we’re both good dancers and we’re both starstruck.” jisung takes the tea, a sense of deja vu filling him

“okay, it’s an agreement.” you wave bye to each other, the feeling that you’ll meet again sometime soon very prominent

jisung realizes two things when he sees you walking away

1) talking to you came so easily that he didn’t realize he dropped all honorifics until just now

and 2) he wants to keep talking to you, he wants you to come back and tell him all about yourself

and eventually, jisung gets his wish

once the end of dream’s and your group’s promotional period comes closer, you both find yourselves back at inkigayo for one last performance

you’re making your way to the vending machines, your money clutched in your hand as you try to remember exactly where they are in this building

and when you turn a familiar corner, you can see the machines in your sight

and park jisung as well

he hears the clacking of your shoes and turns around, smiling shyly and waving at you as you come closer

“h-hi.” you wave back

“I got you this. it’s the brand you like, right?” jisung asks, but he’s sure it is your favorite brand

he can’t forget about his last two encounters with you, the two empty bottles of tea that you gave him have been sitting on his bedside table for so long that even jaemin, one of the messiest people in jisung’s whole dorm, has been yelling at him to throw them away

“oh, yes, it is,” you accept the drink, looking up at jisung quizzically, “you didn’t actually have to pay me back.”

“I said I was going to, and I actually owe you one more bottle from last time.” jisung reminds

“I thought we said that was an agreement-”

“please, let me fully pay you back.”

the look on jisung’s eyes and along with the hopefulness in his palms as they clasp together in front of him make it almost impossible to say no

“okay, yeah, you can pay me back.”

“alright, so… how about this saturday? there’s a small cafe we can go to. no one will bother us there, I’m sure of it.”

you’re not even thinking straight at this point

park jisung just asked you out

your literal role model…

…is interested in you

you’re not sure what expression your face holds, but it makes jisung smile brightly

“like a d-date?”

jisung finds your stutter cute, and he nods in confirmation

“um, yeah, sure, awesome. I’ll get your number later, then?” you try to play cool, but your heart is spasming and you aren’t 100% sure if what you just said makes any sense

“yeah, just don’t throw the bottle away.” jisung waves goodbye while walking away from you, leaving his smile permanently etched into your mind

confused, you look down at your bottle of tea

written in black marker is a string of number’s, along with a message:

“don’t throw me away! I’ll see you saturday :-)”

you pick your head up to see jisung round the corner, an unerasable smile radiating from you

for this performance, your heart flutters and your nerves are wrecked, but for a whole different reason:

park jisung

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cotncandyboifics · 4 years ago

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1989 [High School AU]: Chapter 8

AO3 Link

Masterpost

Chapter 1 ~ Chapter 2 ~ Chapter 3 ~ Chapter 4 ~ Chapter 5 ~ Chapter 6 ~ Chapter 7 ~ Chapter 9 ~

Pairings: slight Logince, eventual Prinxiety & Logicality

Word count: 2,407

Story summary: Roman Prince is your stereotypical Jock, with everyone swooning after him. Every day a crowd of people follow him around, only to disperse at his personal whim. In reality, he's lucky to have such good acting skills that help him cover up the disdain he has for his life. He only wishes he could use his skills properly.

Patton Whitelock's always there to lend a helping hand, no matter who you are. If you need a favor or just need someone to talk to, go to him. In reality, he's been taught from a young age that kindness should be held above all else. No one suspects that he took it the wrong way.

Logan Montgomery is the smartest boy in the Senior class. He's stern, and most people are too intimidated to speak to him. In reality, he despises most all of his fellow students. He sticks to his studies and doesn't stray, for fear of being stuck in his father's shadow his whole life.

Virgil Black is the most emo kid in school, let alone 12th grade; everyone knows to leave him be. In reality, he's very fortunate. He has two parents who love him dearly. But everything beyond his life, everything within his mind, is utter chaos and turmoil.

what will happen when they're assigned a biology project together?

General CW: food, swearing, implied s-lf h-rm, non-graphic descriptions of s-lf h-rm scars, graphic and non-graphic descriptions of anxiety attacks and panic attacks, drug abuse, minor character intoxicated on heroin, non-graphic drug overdose description, sickness/description of sickness, blood, non-graphic descriptions of needles, (will be added to as I write more)

Chapter CW: food, (let me know if i missed anything please!)

Author notes: alternate title: Virgil's very subtle epiphany. also Patton has a gay panic moment lol

...

Slam.

Monday morning. Mr. Berry was slapping a small poster on each student's desk like a stamp, one-by-one and painfully slowly.

"This," he began, "Is the official welcome to the schoolyear; audition posters for the Fall Talent Show." His bloated belly hardly fit between the desk rows, and students made futile attempts to scoot away from him before they were bombarded by his tyrannical tummy. "As a retired thespian and a life long supporter of theatre and the arts," he continued, bringing his pile of posters to his chest in his passion, "I highly recommend you at least consider looking into auditions. Everyone has a passion, or at least a hobby, and the talent show is a perfect freelance opportunity to show off your skills."

Roman rolled his eyes too dramatically. This was upsetting him more than he thought it would, and his eyes shot daggers up at his large superior as he slammed the next poster onto Roman's desk.

"Auditions will be held next week, on the specified dates. The show itself will be two weeks later, I believe on Friday night. Be there, and I will award you some extra credit points. All you must do is present me with your ticket, which must have your name on it," he eyed a few mischievous students in the room, "With a stamp on it from the Talent Show admissions booth, on the following Monday." As soon as Mr. Berry had given a poster to Virgil and moved on, Virgil quietly crumpled it and shoved it into a random part of his backpack, proceeding to fold his arms on his desk and put his head down. This caught Roman's attention, and his subconscious latched onto formulating a teasing remark for after class as a distraction from his own feelings about the Talent Show.

After class, the usual place where Roman and Virgil were shortly alone and had a short interaction - most often consisting of some insufferable tease from Roman or occasionally a debate spurred by Virgil making a witty side comment - the two met once again. After their first class of the day was usually the only time they were both at their lockers at the same time, as it happened, and Virgil was always thankful that it was the only time. Since their assignment to the Biology project, however, Roman had taken to walking with Virgil from their English class to their lockers and beginning his bouts of banter prematurely.

"Not a fan of the infamous talent show, are we?" Roman paced quickly over to Virgil, who had just made it outside the classroom door as they'd been dismissed. Virgil huffed in defeat as his attempt to escape before Roman could catch him had been fruitless.

"It's ridiculous," Virgil didn't slow his pace for Roman, and began essentially speedwalking down the hall. Roman was slightly taller than him and was able to keep up, but still got a little out of breath doing it. "Hey everyone, come and show everyone in the school something you really enjoy so they can all collectively judge you and make you self conscious about your interests and - oh no! you don't wanna do it anymore because you feel horribly inadequate? shoooot. Sorry man, no one could have seen that coming. Oh well, better luck next year when you'll just ruin a different passion for yourself!" Virgil flailed his hands at the end of his mini-rant.

"How can you stay that sarcastic for that long consecutively? I'm honestly impressed," Roman said, huffing as they arrived at their lockers. Virgil's permanent frown seemed to somehow deepen. "Though, I guess I really can't argue, Count Woe-laf. I see your point. The pressures of an impromptu performance are... undeniable." Roman focused his attention on the padlock hanging from the latch of his locker, while Virgil looked to him with widened eyes.

"Really?" He didn't look away from Roman until he would look back.

"What?" Roman defended.

"It's just..." Virgil focused on his own padlock now, "You never agree with what I say. It always becomes a debate," he pulled his locker open lazily, pulling his backpack off his shoulders and putting it on backwards so that he could more easily exchange things. When Roman didn't reply, he continued, "like... I don't know. Why is it any different now?"

Roman was exchanging things as well, and didn't have an immediate answer. Well, he knew the answer (or in this case, answers), but it wasn't one he was even ready to admit to himself, let alone anyone else, and especially let alone Virgil. He just eventually shrugged.

This reaction only further alarmed Virgil. He opened his mouth to continue his flabbergasted interrogation, but the bell rang right at that moment. Roman slammed his locker shut suddenly.

"Well, that's our queue I suppose. See you tonight, Incredible Sulk." Roman elbowed Virgil in the shoulder a bit awkwardly and began skipping down the hall to his next class. That left a dumbfounded and nearly-panicking Virgil standing in front of his open locker in an almost completely empty hall.

He wished Roman would stop leaving him like that.

...

Roman had texted the Biology Project group chat that weekend, saying he had an important football practice on Monday that went until 5. they'd have to have their meet-up at Roman's a bit later in the evening. Logan simply waited it out by heading to the school library to get his other homework done, while Patton and Virgil shot the breeze, walking down random hallways of the school.

The two of them were grabbing a snack from a vending machine when Virgil checked his phone. It was 4:50. They got their respective snacks - Patton got a strawberry Pop tart and Virgil got a Sunny D - and made their way to the designated meeting place. It was a concrete bench at the front of the school. They expected to find Logan there, but he wasn't. The two of them simply sat on the cold bench and exchanged bits of each other's snacks, and continued talking until Virgil noticed someone approaching.

He figured it would be Logan, but this person was shorter and more filled out than Logan. He trained his eyes better and realized that it was Roman. Roman, who happened to have a towel around his neck and sopping-wet crimson curly hair unabashedly on display. A drip of water rolled down his cheek and along his jawline, and Virgil realized he was staring. Roman finally got within conversation distance.

"Like what you see, Charlie Frown?" He teased. Patton looked to Virgil, noticing his awe, and giggled.

"Hah, in your dreams, Meta Knight," Virgil deflected half-heartedly, still finding it hard to pull his eyes away from Roman's unfortunate perfection. It was only worse that Roman knew just how attractive he was.

"Why's your hair all wet, silly?" Patton asked, standing energetically to greet him.

"We rinse off after practice. I considered leaving my shirt off so i could just get a clean one when i got home, but i knew that might be a bit too much to handle for some of us," Roman elbow-nudged Patton, who just giggled again and pushed his glasses up. Virgil knew that was extremely forced, especially after their conversation on Friday.

"Well," Roman checked his wristwatch, "Where would my nerdy Wolverine happen to be? It's ten past, and if there's anything Logan certainly is, it's punctual."

"Quite right you are," a stern voice came from behind them, to reveal Logan's lengthy form approaching casually. "My apologies for my tardiness. I got quite engaged in a particular Physics problem." Roman turned to him smiling, and pecked him on the cheek. Virgil didn't need to look at Patton to feel his friend's heart sink through the floor.

"Shall we then?" Roman turned to lead the way on the five-block journey to his house.

...

"hmm, that reminds me," Roman said from his sprawled position on his bed, "what are all your sexualities?"

That sure caught everyone's attention. The clock beside Roman's bed read 6:28 PM. Logan was studying their plants and taking notes, Patton had been cooing quietly to Roman's pet turtle, and Virgil was sitting in Roman's spinning desk chair scrolling on his phone. They all looked at Roman at once, and then at each other.

"Heh," Roman sat up, "My apologies for blurting such an intrusive question, I was just looking up at my-" he gestured toward his ceiling- "glorious flag, and it made me wonder. No man must answer that which he does not desire to." Roman was blatantly referring to the Bisexual flag that was pinned to the ceiling above his bed. They all looked at it, and back at him. "I suppose it's obvious now, but yes, I am undeniably bisexual," He faux bowed.

The silence wasn't doing anyone good, so Patton broke it before it got too much more awkward. "I, I'm gay," he said sheepishly, continuing to observe the turtle. Virgil gave him a soft smile, and decided to offer himself up next.

"I'm pan," he seemed to recoil further into his hoodie, if that were even possible. Logan turned to the other three, adjusting his necktie.

"I'm not usually one to admit this to many people, but since you have all been so transparent and calm about such personal information," He started, "I am comfortable telling you that I am Asexual."

No one regarded this with much surprise, except for Roman. "Oh really?" He said, seemingly surprised and embarrassed. Virgil scoff-laughed at him.

"What, upset you can't make your sexual fantasies a reality?" Virgil teased. Roman gasped, bringing a hand to his chest in an offended gesture.

"Excuse me!" He exclaimed, a look of disgust contorting his face.

Before a classic Roman-Virgil debate could ensue, Patton decided to share his thoughts.

"Well, I, I mean, I'm not ace but I, I guess sex isn't really so important to me," he was fiddling with his ring yet again.

"W-well, it should never be the centerpiece of any relationship!" Roman declared. They all looked at him skeptically. "what? I mean, personally, I prefer grand gestures." As he spoke, he stood and walked to Logan. "In my opinion," he produced a pristine bouquet of deep red roses that none of the others had noticed anywhere in the room before, "they are the key to any person's heart."

Logan seemed tame, Patton thought. As if he were performing. If he were being his normal self, he would have been very confused by where Roman had hidden the bouquet, and how it looked so perfect after being concealed. Instead, he just took it with a very gentle sweet smile, and thanked him quietly. Instead of Logan, Patton was now the one confused.

Virgil's face was red, and his neck a blotchy pink; thankfully he was mostly hidden under his purple bangs and hood. He huffed and excused himself to use the restroom. Patton noticed this time, and grabbed his arm before he made it out of the room.

"You okay?" he whispered gently to Virgil. Virgil just looked at him, mustered a small smile and a nod. Patton knew exactly what that meant. Virgil was okay, he just needed a moment. He returned the smile, and released his gentle paternal grip on Virgil's arm, allowing him to leave.

There was the sound of someone calling Roman's name from another part of the house, and Roman excused himself, rushing off to find its source.

Logan slipped his phone into the pocket of his navy slacks. "Well, I must be going now," He began. Instead of reaching to gather his things, he trained his acute attention directly on Patton, who was startled by the sudden focus on him. "Patton, do you have a ride home today?"

"I, uh, well," He tried blurting out an excuse but none came to his mind. "No, not exactly..."

Logan was slowly approaching, and Patton tried to back up but hit the terrarium containing Roman's turtle after just one small step. "Would you like a ride? My parents would be more than happy to assist in your safe transport home."

"Well, well I really don't want to intrude, or-" He stopped dead when Logan placed a slender hand gently on his shoulder.

"I insist. It's no intrusion or burden to them. They appreciate being able to help others when they can, especially people whose company I enjoy." Logan didn't feel as though he was figuratively lying through his teeth, but he knew that his parents didn't exactly feel that way. The nature of the situation was more that they took kindly to those that Logan worked well with on academically related subjects, such as people from his study group or the like.

Patton caught himself before letting the thought "you enjoy my company?" escape his lips. He just smiled. He knew there was no way he could get himself to deny Logan's offer when his heart was taking the reins.

"I would.. really appreciate, a ride home, yeah," He said quietly. Logan was just looking into his eyes with a tenderness Patton hadn't seen before. He pushed away any thoughts that Logan may have looked at Roman the exact same way during their date. He hoped he hadn't, and cursed himself for hoping it.

"Wonderful," Logan pulled himself out of their shared momentary trance. "I will let them know. I'm sure they will find it a pleasure to become acquainted with you. They should be here in less than five minutes, so I suggest gathering your belongings." Logan's thumbs padded across is illuminated phone screen as he spoke, until he once again slid it into his pocket and began collecting his things along with Patton.

Virgil entered once again, hood off and face slightly red and wet. it was clear that he hadn't been crying due to the sporadic nature of the droplets of water across his face; it looked more like he'd just haphazardly washed his face in the sink and hadn't bothered to wipe the remnants away. Patton smiled at him brightly.

"Ah, Virgil," Logan addressed as he slung his bag over his shoulder, "It was pleasant to see you again. We are on our way out now. Are you ready, Patton?" He looked to Patton, who also slung his bag over his shoulder.

"Yep! Logan's giving me a ride," Patton blatantly could barely contain his excitement in his ever-growing grin, so Virgil only returned it with a small thumbs up.

"Alright, ill see you guys in class tomorrow," He hugged Patton tightly, and half-heartedly saluted to Logan without making eye contact. Logan simply nodded to him, and the two left shortly, leaving Virgil alone in Roman's room.

#ts virgil #virgil sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #prinxiety #logicality #logan x patton #roman x virgil #slow burn #high school au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #thomas sanders

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roses-ruby · 5 years ago

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Come Home To Me Darling | Drabble

So aha I am a scammer cause I said I wouldn’t do this but here we are 🤡 Actually I just have pretty bad writer's block for most of my other WIPs so yeet anything that makes me feel like a real writer right now really helps. The drabble originated from this ask.

Based off of this original story: CHTMD

Genre: Fluff, Slight Angst

Word Count: 3k

“And so that’s how I got my hands on those beautiful roses.”

The bunny toothed man smiles and messes with his hair for the third time – pinching the edges of his side bangs and straightening his back even further. He was nervous, maybe even more than you.

“Your sister sounds very kind.” You giggle

“She is! Both her and my mother…they would love to meet you.”

The sincerity in his voice melts your heart, even though you felt yourself tense at the very thought of meeting his family. This was obviously not something you had to fret over at the moment, but your feverish mind continues to plague you with useless concerns. Like if your hair was out of place, or if you had something on your teeth or if you should touch up your makeup again.

And one from further below, asking you where he went after you left. As if you ever knew.

“___?” You hear a sweet voice gently call out your name. The silk warmth of a large hand drapes over yours that lies perfectly still on the creamy tablecloth.

“Hmm?”

“Are you alright? You seem distracted…”

“Oh! N-No- I mean yes, I’m fine.” With rushed words, you squeeze his hand back. Your heart pounding loudly when he blushes and beams.

Although that was a lie and more than anything, you wished you could tell him the truth. About how uncertain you were of everything right now. How much it hurt to sit still. It was just a few days ago that you officially ended your seven-year relationship, and nothing made sense anymore. Everything inside you was antsy.

“I hope this place is alright for you.” Jungkook quips, as bright as ever.

“It’s wonderful.” You smile with your eyes as you watch him purse his lips. Jimin never said anything like that when you went out. For him…he always had this confident air about him, and some might say he was filled to the brim with arrogance when it concerned you. That there wasn’t a doubt in his mind when he was with you. Perhaps all of it could be blamed on your submission for the vixen. Submission you’ve grown to resent.

“I know you’ll love this place.”

He’d say whenever he took you out. The small amount of times he did, that is. And maybe that’s why you remember all of them so well – since there wasn’t much to remember. Not much but him...the way he’d smile, the twinkle in his eyes. But unlike most times, thinking about him didn’t bring you any happiness. Instead you felt a bitter taste around your mouth. Something you wanted to wash away quickly.

“Wine.” Whispering out loud, you stare at the empty wine glass beside your cutlery. The fidgeting man in front of you gasps underneath his breath, quickly gesturing for a waiter. You were awfully thankful he did since you were never good at even these tiny public interactions. Jimin always did everything for you too.

The waiter hurried over, standing with his hand behind his back like a true professional. Jungkook asked for the finest bottle of wine and you had to hide a grin at him trying to impress you with his wine knowledge. When the waiter brought over a Nebbiolo, he insisted on opening it himself.

“J-Jungkook…” You say quietly, watching the muscle bunny struggle with the cork. “Maybe we should call for the waiter again.”

“It’s alright!” He says, furrowing his brows in concentration. “I got it. I’ve opened many…many wines before.”

Right…you forgot how competitive he was, you think as you try not to break into laughter at his earnestness. Would Jimin do something like this? You don’t think you’ve ever had to watch Jimin struggle for anything. Except for the day you left him. Inevitably your mind wandered back to your apartment and you couldn’t help but wonder where he was, right now, in this moment. For some reason you were worried…it wasn’t like you heard anything back from him. Which was an occurrence you thought you’d be used to by now.

What did you expect him to say though? Of course, you wouldn’t see him again. You laid your feelings – or lack thereof out for him clearly and that chapter of your life was now closed. So, what were you expecting? Maybe a part of you wanted the grand Hollywood ending. One where the guy realizes his mistakes and apologizes for hurting you.

Because that was the main truth wasn’t it…you were hurt, weren’t you?

You were startled out of your thoughts when you heard a loud pop and the icky sensation of something wet splashing all over you. Your jaw drops open as you make eye contact with Jungkook who had a similar expression – if not one more horrified.

“I’m so, so, so, so, sorry.”

“I know, I know, I get it Jungkook. You don’t have to apologize a million times.” You couldn’t help but laugh at the pain in the assailant’s voice. He sounded like he was about to cry.

A white blouse may have been a bad idea for a first date after all. What did you wear on your first date with Jimin? Green, wasn’t it?

You remove your top, cringing at the way the soiled cloth stuck to your skin. The cramped stall of the restroom reminded you of that night – for the shortest second before you shook your head awake. No way did you want to recall that horrible night where you lost yourself for a moment…in that space…with that man….and his talented fingers.

Taehyung…

Again, you shake your body in denial to wake yourself up and end up hitting your elbow against the wall. You bite your lip to hold yourself back from screaming out in agony.

“___? Are you alright?” Comes the concerned voice of Jeon Jungkook.

“Mm- Just fine!” You chuckle awkwardly, trying to conceal the wound in your own voice.

With a sigh, you hold up your blouse in front of you, checking on the damage. Those hours you spent fretting and whining about your first date outfit were officially for nothing. Irene was gonna kill you. And you didn’t even have anything extra to cover yourself with.

As soon as you think that, an overhead draping sound distracts you from the issue in your hands. You look up, surprised to see Jungkook’s black coat hanging on the wall.

“W…wear my coat for now…just until we get the stain out of your shirt…”

“…Alright. T-thank you.”

Hesitantly, you pull down his coat and hold it in your hands. Oh…it smells like him. Not wanting Jungkook to wait outside any longer, you quickly put the coat on and button it up, trying to ignore the way his cologne engulfed your senses.

You step out slowly, mingling with the fabric of your blouse until you meet Jungkook’s gaze.

“O-oh…” He breathes out, his eyes widening and hand rushing up to itch the back of his head. There was a lot he had to say about the way you looked, wrapped up in his coat…the way you had to roll up the sleeves, and the way the collar was too loose, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. Jungkook always wore baggy clothes but he didn’t realize just how big they’d be on other people. More specifically, you.

“The…umm…your short- I mean shirt- ahem shirt,” He coughs, extending his hand, “I’ll take care of it.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. What did he mean ‘take care of it’?

Nonetheless, you hand it to him.

He rushes to the sink and your face falls when he turns on the faucet.

“Jungkook!” You run up behind him. He rolls up his dress sleeves and you couldn’t help but peek at the veins protruding in his arms. Just for a teeny second.

“I-I don’t think, aha I mean- I just bought this today!” You laugh breathlessly, “I can just you know…d-d-dry cleaning is a thing, you know that, right? Dry cleaning?”

“I couldn’t allow you to waste your money because of me!” He states assuringly, “Don’t worry, I am a god at laundry. Back home – I do all the clothes, my mom and sister’s too. I’ve cleaned many things, don’t worry!”

Your mouth opens and closes like a fish as you receive déjà vu from a similar situation just a few minutes ago. But while you’re meditating on what to say, he dips your blouse underneath the open faucet and begins scrubbing away vigorously. All that was left to do was watch.

Helplessly.

As your top becomes sopping wet. As the restroom slowly starts resembling a crime scene. As the red liquid spreads everywhere – the rest of your blouse, the ceramic sink, the bunny’s hands.

Soon, the faucet is turned off and you’re left in the silence of the laundry disaster aftermath.

You scoff, staring at your irreversibly ruined blouse.

Jungkook gulps, holding the wet mesh still as the water drips into the sink and down the drain.

“I…again, I’m so sorry. I’ll pay for dry cleaning- actually that’s what I should have offered in the first place, I-I don’t know why I didn’t think of it. A-actually sometimes I can be pretty dumb! My sister says that I should probably learn to understand facial cues, but I-I don’t know, I’m pretty dense you know? I-”

“Pfft.” You purse your lips.

“Huh?”

Another snicker leaves you at his petrified doe eyes. His own shirt was slightly ruined with wine splatters and his hair was fussed up with how much energy he spent in scrubbing your shirt. He looked so silly holding your blob of a top over the sink and rambling on with a voice that stuttered and squeaked.

Your shoulders start shaking the more you try to stop yourself. But it fails and suddenly, you burst out into a colorful shade of laughter.

Jungkook stares at you with a blank expression.

“I-I’m sorr-” You manage to make out, “I-It’s just…well…I thought I was bad at dates…”

You stiffen up after your confession, wondering how he would react. The truth was, Jungkook was too damn cute and there was no way you could be mad at him and his sincerity. Knowing your now ex, he’d throw a whiny tantrum. So, for a second- because your brain was still wrongly wired, you prepare for that particular situation. For him to whine like Jimin.

But it never comes. Instead, you watch your date break out into the biggest smile of his own. Complete with the bunny teeth and dimples.

“I guess…I am pretty bad at dates…” He chuckles and you nod, laughing along.

Huh…it was different.

You both stand there; you with your soaked bra and men’s coat and him with his colored dress shirt and arms dampened with watery red – like the two biggest dorks with the biggest grins on your faces. Like there was no one else in the world. And you can’t remember a similar time where you’ve laughed like this with Jimin. But actually…you don’t care.

Until you hear the door open and the sound of heels step into the foyer. You both whirl your heads towards the restaurant’s restroom doorway and spot an old lady in heavy makeup, who stops in her tracks when she spots you both and stares back with an equally startled expression.

Her confusion turns to horror and she gasps as she glances at the bloody wine-stained blouse in Jungkook’s hands.

You turn back to Jungkook with wide eyes, who immediately turns back to you.

“We should go.”

“Right. I’ll walk you home.”

The wind blows through your strands and you hold Jungkook’s hand just a little bit tighter to stop yourself from feeling a chill.

You weren’t sure what it was, but the city was brighter than usual tonight. The reason was most likely the fact that you don’t get out much – or you haven’t until just recently. There was an amorous muted illumination on the streets you walked along. Since you were so used to a certain confined area, when you stepped out into the fast-paced world, you were much more observant. Of all the vivid colors and gales of the night. And of the tall buildings that laid asleep, and the pavement against your feet.

And especially of the quiet man next to you.

It wasn’t hauntingly soundless or lonely as your days on the terrace either. Many people still lingered the perimeter since your date was cut short by some special accidents and it was still early out. Compared to them, you and Jungkook moved at a much slower rate, in a hush as if to stall the moment. Make it last for a second- a minute- a while longer.

Was Jimin’s silence this serene? No, it wasn’t. You often spent time hating yourself between the hushed cracks of your relationship. When he was speaking, all you could think about was him. How you’d do anything for him. When he wasn’t…you wanted to strangle the pain out of your heart. The pain caused by his lies and infidelity.

“This is it…” You say, as you look up at Irene’s apartment building.

“You live here with your friend, right?”

“Mhm, my friend who’s going to kill me for coming back early. Maybe that’s for the best since that lady thinks I’m a murderer now. Her and whoever finds my shirt in the restroom’s trash.”

Jungkook lets out a breathless laugh, “I know I’m just repeating myself, but I really am sorry about spilling wine on you, and then ruining your shirt. And not knowing that you were my boss- My god! I mean I just spoke to you so casually arghh-”

He begins to ruffle his hair in frustration and embarrassment, but you step close to him and grab his wrists.

“Oh please, Jungkook, I’m the one who should have told you straight up! I think…I just enjoyed how casual you were around me. It didn’t feel like I was putting up a false pretense, even if I was. I had fun…I always have fun with you.”

I’m always me when I’m with you. Jungkook removes his arms from his face so he could take a good look at you, watching the way the night air played with your hair. You were so beautiful, so graceful, and he wondered if you knew it.

“Me too…I have fun with you. That one pretty donut really sparked up the best challenge.”

You smile at his reply and he had to do everything in his power to stop himself from kissing you.

“Hey, uhm…” Jungkook stares at the ground, replacing the wrists in your hands with his palms. “I don’t know if…would you like to see me again? S-soon? I mean…i-if you want.”

He really was the most endearing man, you think, as you watch him stutter. The complete opposite of your ex-husband.

Your smile falls.

When you don’t answer, Jungkook looks back up at you apprehensively.

“___? Do you not want to see me again?”

You still didn’t answer him…you couldn’t. Even the night couldn’t stop him from glowing. From the scar on his cheek, to his fluffy mess of hair, to his pink lips you tried your best not to leer at. He was undeniably handsome. Here was this beautiful young soul who gave you true laughter and a swooning heart for the first time in seven years, and then here was you. Someone who compared him to her ex the whole date.

Someone who thought about her ex the whole date.

And why was that? Didn’t you say that you didn’t love Jimin? That was true. You spent many hours in conversation with yourself and when you look inside, you don’t love Park Jimin. But it’s not so easy to forget everything else, is it? Seven years isn’t just some passed time – it’s a way of life.

You were someone for seven years and that someone happened to be the woman who loved Park Jimin.

It wasn’t easy to forget, no matter how desperately you wanted to. The thing that infuriated you the most was that you had done nothing wrong. Why were you the one so broken inside? You didn’t cheat, you didn’t lie, you did nothing that was considered erroneous. So why you and not him? He should be the one who has to second guess everything…the one who feels scared and helpless and lost.

The one who has to carry all the pain.

You wish you could easily hand over your heart because it’s too big of a burden for you. There was a slight chance that the man in front of you could hold onto it safely.

But in reality, it was a broken and damaged heart. The shards carried more weight than anyone should bear. You were still caught in your feelings and Jungkook didn’t deserve that. Neither did you.

In the end, it was your responsibility. No matter how unfair it was and how resentful you felt towards Park Jimin. You made a mental note to mention about all these matters to Lin on your next appointment.

“__-”

“Jungkook I-”

You both interrupt each other’s thoughts. When you catch his eyes, Jungkook silently urges you to continue.

“Jungkook…I…I just got out of a seven-year relationship.”

For a moment, you wait for his reaction. He looks slightly taken aback, but nothing too extreme.

“And I’m…I’m not…ready yet. I’m not ready for another one.”

Jungkook nods, staring at you and then back at the pavement. It hurt your chest to reject him like this, but he deserved the truth.

“D-do you still-”

“He was my husband.”

His eyes shoot back to you, shock written along his young features. You look deep into his shiny orbs, before tightening the hold on his hands.

“Jungkook, I really, really like you. But I’m not ready yet…can you understand me?”

An unreadable silence falls upon you both. Jungkook stood there quietly, not breaking his gaze off you and you were certain that he knew you weren’t ready to speak to him about it. Not yet. A few seconds felt like hours as you planted your feet further against the sidewalk, nervously waiting for his reply. This was a lot of pressure to put upon someone, and you knew that. He deserved better. Which is why you would respect whatever Jungkook would say next…but you aren’t going to lie, if he left you right now, it would really hurt.

“I understand…I’ll wait for you.”

For a second you thought you hallucinated his answer, but when he smiled that bunny toothed smile you’ve come to love in such a short time, you felt tears well up in the corner of your eyes. You breathe out a laugh of relief.

Closing your eyelids, you try to hide your tears in case he misunderstands.

“I-I’m glad…thank you Jungkook.”

“No, thank you…for giving me a chance when you were still struggling to pick yourself up. I mean I am moving too fast, asking my former boss’ number out of nowhere and then kind of cheating on the challenge.” He says lightheartedly, “It’s why my offer still stands you know…I’ll still be your servant for a week if you want.”

“Shut up!” You hit his chest lightly with your fist, even though your cheeks felt like they would burst with your smile.

His large sleeves dangle on you as you move your wrists and you instantly remember you were still in his coat.

You gasp, “Jungkook, just wait here. I’ll go get changed and return your coat, alright?”

He shakes his head.

“No, keep it.”

You furrow your eyebrows at him.

“It looks expensive, Jungkook…I’ll just go take it off quickly.”

“No, it’s fine.”

You scoff, “Bu-”

“It gives you a reason to see me again.” He smirks

You didn’t even have time to respond before his lips were on you. Your mouth drops open as you feel him kiss your forehead and then pull back with the widest grin.

“See you around.” He says, before running off into the night.

You stand there, in front of your apartment building, in Jungkook’s coat, still trying to piece together the whole night. Even though your legs hurt from standing, you don’t regret it one bit. He was so strange…you would have wanted to see him again no matter what. With another scoff, you begin to laugh. Something you were doing a lot more of these days.

It was a nice feeling. Better than your past.

There was a lot of uncertainty moving forward. You were out of a job, living with your best friend, soon to be a divorcee who might own a bistro. Oh, and you had new peculiar friends like Yoongi, Taehyung and of course Jungkook. This date had officially been your first big step.

It was everything you didn’t imagine, but you loved it. Not for a second did you have to think about how to make your date happy…how to get him to pay attention to you. He was sincerely happy to be with you. And to you, that means everything.

Still, you wonder if he liked ratatouille. You didn’t want to have perfect that dish for nothing.

Looking back up at where Jungkook once stood, you relish the night wind for just a little while longer.

“Goodnight, Jeon Jungkook. Thank you for the roses.”

#bts #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #jungkook fluff #jimin angst #R:CHTMD

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thesassenachswiftie · 4 years ago

Text

Lover Chapter 6 - “Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince”

Read on AO3

Chapter 1 // Chapter 2 // Chapter 3 // Chapter 4 // Chapter 5

Summary:

It's been a month since Jamie and Claire's emotional parting. What happens when they run into each other, at a high school football game of all places?

Notes:

Thanks so much for reading and commenting! I know the last chapter was painful. Angst just makes everything else so much sweeter, right? We left our lovers in a pretty dark place, and a month later their emotional states are not much improved (I wonder why?). This is my favorite chapter I've written so far, I hope you like it!

The late September air kissed Claire’s cheeks bringing a lively flush to her face as she wrapped her blue and yellow fleece blanket tighter around her shoulders. It was Friday night and the homecoming game was in full swing. She had chosen a spot in the upper corner of the bleachers where the crowd was thinner. Being the school nurse, Claire was a member of the school faculty, and expected to be present for at least one of the weekend’s festivities. It was much better to be a little cold at the game then chaperoning the dance the following evening. No thank you, she did not need to see her beloved students grinding against each other like animals.

Claire would never forget the first time she chaperoned a school dance and saw Mary Hawkins attached at the mouth to some gangly, acne-ridden boy on the dance floor. Sweet, innocent Mary Hawkins, a stammering girl who visited her office at least twice a week for her inhaler when an anxiety attack caused her asthma to flare up. Who knew she could hold her breath for that long? Claire had just stood there on the sidelines, revolted but unable to look away. Eventually, Jo noticed and stepped in “No PDA at School functions!! Don’t make me call your parents, Alex” The mortified couple simultaneously turned a shade of red Claire wasn’t sure she’d ever seen before and separated as if they were spring-loaded. “Boys will be boys then, but where are the wise men?” was Jo’s aside as they returned to Claire’s side.

Claire wished Jo was here now, but unfortunately they had a weekly D&D commitment on Friday nights that simply could not be missed. She didn’t really wish Jo was there, she wished somebody was there. Someone that could warm not only her chilled body, but her chilled heart. She tried to conjure up Frank in her mind, his arm around her, explaining the nuances of the game, but she had to admit to herself that Frank wasn’t the one who could warm her to the core. That's what got her into this mess in the first place though. You play stupid games you win stupid prizes, she thought to herself. She tried to shake the thoughts from her head and focus on the game, hoping the cold would numb her heart the way it numbed her nose. It would be easier if she understood American football, her very-English-indeed father had never enjoyed the sport the way her friends’ fathers did growing up, and Uncle Lamb had certainly never taken an interest in it. All she really knew is that the Wildcats were losing and the crowd around her was starting to look dejected. As she scanned their faces her eyes caught on russet curls in the bleachers below her, several rows down in the center was Jamie. Even from the back he was unmistakably recognizable, his large frame filling out the sherpa lined jacket he was wearing, effortlessly unbuttoned despite the chill in the air. He seemed to be with a woman and a group of children and young teens, at least two of the smaller ones were running up and down the bleachers. Probably his sister, she assured herself—she hadn’t met Jenny but she knew she had several children.

She counted days, she counted miles but now to see him there brought everything she had been trying to forget back in a rush. Her face felt even more flushed than before and something deep in her heart stirred awake. She stared at him voyeuristically--simultaneously willing him to turn around to catch her eye and hoping he wouldn’t see her. Surrounded by canoodling teenagers she thought to herself, you know I adore you; I’m crazier for you than I was at sixteen for anybody. It was like she was lost in a film scene, waving homecoming queens, the marching band playing and those Friday night lights. Halftime had started and she hadn’t even noticed until Jamie arose from his seat and started heading up the bleacher steps. She tried to watch him from the corner of her eye. He looked exactly the same, yet different somehow, like the spark was missing from him. We’re so sad we paint the town blue she mused to herself. She knew she had hurt him, but it was better to do so in the short run than string him along. As a nurse, she knew the benefits of ripping a bandage off quickly. She averted her eyes down as he passed; the stairs were far enough from where she was sitting that she hoped he wouldn’t notice, and he didn’t seem to as he continued up to the concession stand. She released a breath she didn’t realize she was holding and was left with her head hung as she tried to come up with an escape plan.

“Claire?” that rolling Scottish way he said her name interrupted—no—obliterated her thoughts. She looked up at those blue eyes, filled with the same concern and heartbreak as they had been a month ago.

“Hi, Jamie! Fancy seeing you here!” She tried to sound casual. Do I sound casual? Fancy seeing you here? Who says that? Her heart was beating so loud it was difficult to tell. His arms were full of nachos, hot dogs and drinks and though he looked confident in his balancing act, it seemed like he might lose an item at any minute.

“Erm... do you need a hand with that?” She spoke without thinking. What are you doing Beauchamp? This is exactly the opposite of keeping your distance.

“Aye, that’d be… helpful” She grabbed a flimsy cardboard tray of hotdogs loaded with various toppings from him before he dropped it. “Thanks, Claire”. The way he said her name made her feel like the hormonal teenage girls they were surrounded by, all fluttery and silly. There was nothing she could do but to follow him down the bleacher steps with the tray of hot dogs and a cup of what smelled like hot cocoa she had also grabbed from him a moment before.

“Here we are” He distributed the food to the various children, saying each one’s name and order as he did. Claire couldn’t really remember any of the names he said and just stood there, mouth gaping slightly as he reached for the objects in her hands. Once her hands were empty, she stood there awkwardly. “Ye’re welcome to join us, Claire” he said, patting the cold metal bench beside him. She gave an awkward smile and proceeded to sit, unable to say no to him when she said her name in that way that made her knees feel like they were made of jelly. “Everyone this is my friend, Claire—Claire, this is everyone.” There were slight waves and smiles but ‘everyone’ was mostly concerned with their snacks and didn’t pay much notice to the stranger with the dark curls sitting beside their uncle.

Only Jenny, at the far end of a row of children, was polite enough to call down “Pleased to meet you, Claire, I’m Jenny, Jamie’s big sister” Claire smiled sheepishly and waved down to her end.

After a few moments of awkward silence Claire asked, “so what brings you to our fine academic institution’s homecoming game?”

“My nephew Ian, number 13” he said, gesturing towards the field. “We tried to get him to play footie--soccer as they say here, but Ian’s always marched to the beat of his own drum. He seems to be verra good at assimilating to the American way.”

“I see” affirmed Claire, admiring the way Jamie spoke of his family. God, he was so perfect. Too perfect for me—no one like him deserves an adulterous hussy with a trail of broken men behind her. No, he’s better off without me—but he’s so close. She could feel the heat radiating off his body towards her. Whatever that spark she felt between them when they first met was still very much there. He was just as tense as she was, she could tell, his arm opposite her was drumming a steady beat on his thigh. She wished so desperately that she could read his mind.

The two boys beside Jamie had finished their hot dogs and had started climbing underneath the bleachers. They seemed to be testing the boundaries of what was safe, but weren’t going higher than they should. Jenny kept a watchful eye on them and Jamie was alert to them as well.

“Sassenach, you ken what I’ve heard about American teenagers” he spoke softly, close to her ear so only she could hear him. It made the fine hairs on her neck stand and gave her the sensation of something stirring deep within her.

“What American stories have you been hearing?” she giggled, trying to imagine the insight she was about to gain.

“I heard... that they go underneath these bleachers and make out.” he rasped, his voice feigning concern.

“Shocking. What is this world coming to?” She gestured as if she were clutching an imaginary string of pearls. Flirting with him came so effortlessly, as it had since the very beginning and she couldn’t bring herself to stop.

“See those bleachers o’er there, Sassenach?” she nodded as he gestured to the opposing team’s bleachers across the field. “If I were an American teen, I would bring a lassie underneath those bleachers—much quieter you ken, than with these wee monkeys crawling about.”

“I see” she smirked and raised an eyebrow, daring herself to get lost in those blue eyes.

“You know, as a member of the faculty of this school, isna it your responsibility to check to see the teens aren’t doing anything… unsavory?”

“I suppose it might be part of my job description.” she was wondering where this flirty banter was headed. She felt alive again for the first time in the month since she had seen him last.

“I must admit, I have to use the facilities, perhaps you should see to that while I’m gone.” He was sure to catch her eye as she said it, blinking like an owl in a pathetic attempt to wink at her. His meaning was clear though.

He arose and announced to his family he had to use the toilet and he might leave from there and meet them at home. The team was losing disastrously, the other team was full of brutes and the Wildcats were left battered and bruising. The cheerleaders were a collection of depressed damsels, and the crowd was already starting to thin, so this came as no surprise to anyone as Jamie took his leave.

So there Claire was—left alone with a decision to make. She was feeling so many things at once, a little scared, a bit apprehensive, but mostly excited. She couldn’t go back to him though, it wouldn’t work. She knew he was leaving soon and she was determined to achieve her goals and prove to everyone who she really could be without any distractions. If she was ever going to restore her reputation, she had to stay far away from him. She had to tell him to stay away. And now the storm is coming she thought to herself as she set herself to march over there and tell him off again.

----------

It was quiet under the bleachers. Claire didn’t see Jamie at first, shadowed under the bleachers. “I was beginning to think ya wouldn’t come, Sassanach”. The familiar nickname captured her heart again, making her feel weak, losing her resolve. Jamie closed the distance between them in three strides. “I took the liberty of checking for teenagers for ye, the coast is clear. Now as for the making out part…” He lifted her chin and their eyes met. Claire’s knees felt like they were made of sand and would dissolve at any moment. Her pulse quickened and her breath became shaky. There he was, burning before her, asking permission with those goddamn gorgeous blue eyes and she was feeling helpless.

“Jamie. I...” She couldn’t look at him. She turned, the scoreboard momentarily lighting her face and ran for her life.

He caught her arm gently but firmly moments later. “No, you dinna get to run away again without hearing me out. It’s you and me. There’s nothing like this.” he was practically growling at her. Claire sensed something deep and primal in his voice and her lip started to quiver.

Eyes fixed on the ground she spoke as boldly as she could through her quivering vocal cords, “I’m a bad, bad girl. I’m no good for you. I’ve done so many horrible things. You are the only one that seems to care about me, but you should know that it’s not worth it.” the tears were starting to flow freely now as she sobbed, “Just let me go.”

“No, I don’t want you to go. I dinna really wanna fight either because nobody’s gonna win, but I’ll fight you if I must, Claire, I’ll fight for you, for us ‘cause I know this is a fight that someday we’re gonna win, and I’ll never let you go.” Jamie was huffing with exasperation and passion. “I just thought you should know. It’s you and me. That’s my whole world”

Claire’s knees couldn’t hold her up anymore, she collapsed on the ground, a sobbing mess. How could he still love her after all she did? I don’t deserve this. I came here to break it off and now I’m likely to run away with you. He was on his knees too now, facing her, rubbing her back gently, waiting patiently for her to compose herself. She was finally able to glance up at him through puffy, tear-stained eyes. “Darling, I’m scared.”

#lover #miss americana and the heartbreak prince #outlander #outlander fic #outlander fanfic #outlander fanfiction #jamie x claire #jamie fraser #claire beauchamp #jenny murray #modern au #inspired by taylor swift #angst #fluff

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darksaiyangoku · 5 years ago

Text

RWBY: Rewrite the Stars

A little gift for @laserdog10, @razorblade180 and @tanakaclinkbeard

The ballroom of Schnee Manor was absolutely breathtaking, An extravagant crystal chandelier hung from the ceiling, and the deep blue marble floors were practically gleaming. Teams RWBY, JNPR and SSSN all took the floor, dancing the night away while the string quartet played. All except for two.

Oscar Pine looked across the room to see his ex-girlfriend, Penny Polendina, sifting with her father. A solemn look appeared on his face and he slumped in a chair.

Oscar: Maybe I really was kidding myself. There was no way it could’ve happened between us.

???: Why the long face?

Oscar: Gah!!! Oh, *breathes* it’s just you, Whitley.

Whitley: That it is. *points to chair* You mind?

Oscar: *shakes head* Go for it.

Whitley: *sits down* So what’s the matter?

Oscar: Well... *sigh* it’s Penny. Last month, she broke up with me and it’s been pretty hard for both of us. She’s incredible, so much fun, quirky and just all around the best girl imaginable and... now it’s over.

Whitley: I’m sorry, buddy.

Oscar: Thanks.

Whitley: Did she ever tell you reason why she wanted to end it?

Oscar: She... said it was because she didn’t think it was possible for us to be together properly, given that I’m human and she’s... well not.

Whitley: I see.

Oscar: *deep sigh* Maybe it’s for the best. I mean, I guess it was silly of me to think something like that could work.

Whitley: *stands up* Okay, I’ve heard enough. You’re coming with me!

Oscar: Wait wh- aaaaagh!!!! *dragged by Whitley*

Meanwhile on the other side of the room, Ruby and Jaune were talking with Penny after her father had left.

Ruby: Are you sure you’re okay?

Penny: *smiling widely* Of course, Ruby. *hic* Why wouldn’t I be? *hic*

Jaune: Um, because you’re hiccuping a lot. We know what that means.

Penny: *nervous laughter* Guess like I’m not as subtle as I think.

Ruby: *places hand on Penny’s shoulder* What’s wrong?

Penny: ....Oscar. I-I want to talk to Oscar, but... I don’t know what to say.

Jaune: Well what’s on your mind?

Penny: I... *sighs* I don’t know. I just... *fidgets* miss him. But... maybe us not being togther is for the best. *hic*

Ruby: Penny... you want to get back together with Oscar, don’t you?

Penny: No ma’am. *hic*

Ruby: Penny.

Penny: I’m serious. *hic*

At the podium where the string quartet were playing, Whitley and Oscar were having a scuffle, until the farm boy was finally pushed in front of the microphone. The resulting screech caused all the guests to turn to him. Oscar’s body froze with terror, while Whitley stood to the side, giving him a big thumbs up.

Oscar: Uh..... hello everyone. Oscar the farm boy here. Um, I was convinced by a friend of mine to... come up here and... *gulp* sing. Um, this song is d-dedicated to a very special person in my life and... I hope she likes it.

Ruby: *whispers* What is he doing?

Jaune: *whispers* Looks like he’s gonna sing to Penny.

Penny: ...

Oscar: *closes eyes* You know I want you. It's not a secret I try to hide. I know you want me, so don't keep saying our hands are tied. You claim it's not in the cards. Fate is pulling you miles away and out of reach from me. But you're here in my heart. so who can stop me if I decide that you're my destiny?

Penny: Oscar?

Oscar: What if we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine. Nothing could keep us apart. You'd be the one I was meant to find *leaves podium* It's up to you, and it's up to me. No one can say what we get to be, so why don't we rewrite the stars? Maybe the world could be ours. Tonight *walks to Penny*

Penny was starstruck. She heard Oscar sing before, but this was something else. His voice was like that of angel, filling the room with such beauty. She glances over to Ruby and Jaune, who both gestured her to go to Oscar. Slowly, Penny approached the farm boy, who clasped his hands into hers. They stared into each others’ eyes and Oscar smiled at her. Penny’s heart began to flutter, but she couldn’t bring herself to smile and slowly broke the grip between them.

Ruby: What? No!

Jaune: What is she doing?!

Oscar: P-Penny?

Penny: You think it's easy, you think I don't want to run to you. But there are mountains and there are doors that we can't walk through. I know you're wondering why, because we're able to be just you and me within these walls. But when we go outside, you're going to wake up and see that it was hopeless after all.

Oscar: ...

Penny: No one can rewrite the stars. How can you say you'll be mine? Everything keeps us apart and I'm not the one you were meant to find. It's not up to you. It's not up to me. When everyone tells us what we can be. How can we rewrite the stars? Say that the world can be ours. Tonight.

Ruby: *teary eyed* Oh no.

Jaune: *hugs Ruby* It’s okay. *teary eyed* We’ll make it through together.

Whitley: Fuck!

Penny: I-I’m sorry, Oscar. *slowly walks away*

Oscar: ...

The atmosphere was so cold that the string quartet stopped playing. All the attendees gazed at the scene in awe and tension. Penny took two steps before stopping in her tracks. She tried to take another step but couldn’t. Clenching her fists in frustration, she turned back to Oscar. He looked at her, confused, until he was suddenly tackled to the ground in a fierce, but loving, hug.

Oscar: Agh!!!

Oscar looked up at Penny, who had the brightest smile he had ever seen. His cheeks began to turn red.

Oscar: P-Penny?

Penny: *smiling* All I want is to fly with you.

Oscar: *blushing* ....Huh?

Penny: *laughing* Well, aren’t you gonna finish the song?

Oscar: Oh! Uh, yeah! *chuckles nervously* Right.

The two got back up and the string quartet continued where they left off. Refusing to take the eyes off each other, Oscar and Penny circled each other, hand in hand, as they carried on singing.

Oscar: All I want is to fly with you.

Penny: All I want is to fall with you.

Oscar/Penny: So just give me all of you!

Penny: It feels impossible.

Oscar: it's not impossible.

Penny: Is it impossible?

Oscar/Penny: Say that it's possible!

Bringing each other close, the two began to dance together.

Oscar/Penny: How do we rewrite the stars? Say you were made to be mine? Nothing can keep us apart! 'Cause you are the one I was meant to find! It's up to you and it's up to me! No one can say what we get to be! And why don't we rewrite the stars? Changing the world to be ours! Tonight!

The two stopped and faced each other, neither of them daring to look anywhere else.

Penny: Oscar, I’m so sorry. I’ve... I’ve ignored my feelings for so long just because of what I think is ideal. But screw ideal! I want to be with you... if that’s what you want.

Oscar: *strokes her cheek* Of course it is, Penny. You’re one of the most amazing girls I’ve ever met in my life. You’re cute, quirky, curious, a badass with those swords!

Penny: *giggles*

Oscar: But most importantly, you’re a real girl just like any other. You have a heart and soul, just like Ruby said. She felt it... and I feel it too.

Penny: Are you sure this is what you want?

Oscar: Absolutely. Penny, I love you.

Penny: *teary eyed* I love you too, Oscar.

Without a second to waste, Oscar and Penny held each other close into a loving kiss. The ballroom erupted into an applause, none more louder than Ruby, Jaune and Whitley.

Ruby: YES!!!!!!!

Jaune: NICE ONE!!!!!!!!

Whitley: FUCKING FINALLY!!!!!!!!!!

Oscar and Penny broke away from the kiss, awkwardly staring at the crowds of people clapping and cheering for them.

Oscar: *nervous laughter* Do you wanna go outside? Maybe, get some ice cream?

Penny: *nods vigorously* That sounds wonderful.

Oscar: *smiling* My adorable android.

Penny: *smiling* and my squishy farm boy.

#rwby #oscar pine #penny polendina #whitley schnee #ruby rose #jaune arc #data farms #rwby data farms #data farms rwby #oscar x penny #penny x oscar #oscar pine x penny polendina #penny polendina x oscar pine #song: rewrite the stars #songfic

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justaghostingon · 4 years ago

Text

Merfolk are Overrated

Chapter 5: Nephthys’ Story

Nephthys reminisces about her own experiences under the sea as she helps Kodya hide the three sirens.

Read on ao3 here https://archiveofourown.org/works/25041904/chapters/63453298

Or below the cut

Nephthys’ POV

“You gave her legs!” Kodya gaped like a fish, staring at Nephthys like she’d grown a second head. Nephthys held back a wince. She really hadn’t meant for him to figure it out like this, but she’d come upon Kodya with a siren in his arms, Alistair had been on his way, and she’d needed to do something or they’d all be caught.

Never get caught. This rule comes above all.

“How, why,” Kodya stuttered, still trying to come to terms with what he just saw. “Why didn’t you tell me?” he finally says, a note of hurt in his voice.

“I have told you silly!” Nephthys gave a performative giggle, “Did you think my shop and aura readings were for show?”

Kodya opened his mouth and closed it again, still looking somewhat hurt. Nephthys couldn’t blame him. There was a huge difference between claiming to be a witch to sell trinkets to tourists, and using actual magic in front of someone. But at least he wasn’t going to push it. Nephthys was certain she could have handled having that conversation in front of strangers.

Kodya must never know. He does not belong in our world. If you live with us, you must understand this.

“If we are all done stating the obvious, I would very much like my tail back now.” The red-haired siren sniffed. Arms crossed.

“Of course, of course,” Nephthys smiled. “But not here. Let’s go back to my store, where we’re not in the open where anyone could see.” She shot the red-haired siren a look, and she lowered her head, a scowl on her face.

“Fine,” Kodya grunted as he lifted the fluffy-haired siren into the air and placed her in the back of his truck. Nephthys strained her eyes to catch a glimpse of the old kiddie pool in the back, how ingenuous. Kodya gestured to Nephthys and the red-haired siren. “Nephthys gets the front seat, Red, sit in the back seat.” Red moved towards the fluffy one, but Kodya stopped her. “Back seat means inside the truck, not outside it.”

“Then specify,” Red grumbled as she climbed carefully into the back, flopping awkwardly across the back seats as if she wasn’t quite sure how she was supposed to sit.

“Can I sit inside the truck too?” The boy said, but Kodya shook his head.

“You’ve still got a tail,” he pointed out as he lifted up the green-tailed siren out of what Nephthys was not realizing was a mini aquarium on wheels. The siren clung to him, and Nephthys watched Kodya’s ears grow bright red. Interesting.

Kodya deposited the siren gently into the back so he could crawl to the pool. Then he lifted the little aquarium wheelchair in behind him, and turned to the front.

“Don’t think, just go,” Nephthys heard him mutter under his breath.

-----------

“Don’t think, just go!” her father screamed, pushing Nephthys bodily out of the net. All around her the shouts and screams of a battle waged disoriented her. The great ship stretched upwards like a pillar, black jets streaming off as it sank slowly into the water. Warriors swarmed it, some placing hands or whole arms into cracks and leaks, others trying to push it upwards. Singers sank from above, blackened scales dull as they choked on water. Nephthys followed their trail, to see the slick black substance block out the sun. Oil. She clutched her father’s bag of medicines to her chest, tears still in her eyes, and fled.

----------

“Come in. Come in!” Nephthys beamed as she switched the sign on the door from open to closed. Kodya pushed the boy siren in while Red carried Fluffy. “We’ll talk in the back.” She led them past her glittering potions, and waved them all behind the purple curtain that marked the back from the front. Behind it was where she kept both an emergency tub, and her workbench, complete with extra potion bottles and tea set for easier digestion.

Kodya parked the Kid next to the tub and perched awkwardly on the work bench next to him. Red placed Fluffy carefully in the tub before parking herself on its edge. Nephthys turned her attention to the tea.

“Now,” Nephthys said as she lifted her favorite tea pot to pour five cups. “You want to know about the potion, correct?”

“Aye,” Tori crossed her arms. “I know your kind. You don’t do favors without a price.”

“Tori!” the Kid screeched, and Nephthys frowned, not appreciating that particular generalization, but she supposed it wasn’t entirely wrong.

“Or magic needs to have something as a basis in order to work. I can’t make miracles from nothing,” she gently reprimanded. “It needn’t be any worse than trading for food or clothes.”

“So then what do you want in trade for my tail back?” Tori pressed, legs twitching oddly like she was trying to swish her tail. Sylvia braced against her so she didn’t fall off the edge of the tub.

“Nothing at all,” Nephthys smiled, and all three sirens startled.

“But you just said…” Kodya protested, but Nephthys cut him off.

“I don’t need anything, because this potion was designed to be temporary,” she explained. “You’ll have your tail back in a few hours. The only catch is that you are completely human right now, so I wouldn’t recommend you go swimming, as you’ll find you can’t breathe underwater anymore.”

“But what did you trade to get it to work?” The Kid piped up, eyes wide and curious. “You said magic has to come from somewhere.”

Nephthys smiled. It had been a long time since someone had wanted to listen to her lecture on the finer points of potion making. “You already provided it when you got that sea glass for Kodya. Unless,” she shot Kodya a wink, “he really has been training dolphins.”

“Dolphins?” Gyrus blinked.

“Trained?” Tori sniffed. Fluffy arched an eyebrow.

“Nephthys!” Kodya growled, ears burning red. All three sirens turned to him with similarly judgmental looks. “Oh come on,” he snapped. “I had to come up with some kind of excuse to explain how I got it!”

“And you picked dolphins?” The Kid furrowed his brow in confusion. Kodya’s ears got redder.

Nephthys smiled, pleased to see Kodya getting along with others. “You’re welcome to stay here while you wait for the potion to wear off,” she said. “If you need me, I’ll be handling the front.” So saying she turned on her heel and left Kodya to sputter out excuses to the three sirens.

But it seemed that was not enough to stop the siren’s curiosity. And Nephthys found that not ten minutes passed before the youngest siren peeked outside the curtain.

“Witch Nephthys?” the Kid asked. “Can I ask you a few questions?”

Nephthys glanced around the shop to check it was empty, a long standing habit of hers, before turning her attention to the Kid with a smile. “Of course,” she said. The Kid’s face lit up.

He grabbed the wall, pushing himself forward in his little cart so he could be closer to her. “I’m Gyrus,” he began with a shy duck of his head. “I don’t think we were ever properly introduced.”

“I fear we haven’t,” Nephthys giggled, “what with running from Alistair and all. I’m Nephthys.” She added. “But you already know that thanks to Kody.”

“The red-haired one is Tori, and the pink-haired one is Sylvia,” Gyrus added. “Just so you know.”

“Thank you,” Nephthys smiled, glad to have a name to go with the faces. A silence stretched between them, until Nephthys broke it by prompting, “What were your questions?”

“Right!” Gyrus jumped, running a hand through his hair. He looked adorably awkward. “Well, I was wondering about the potion you made. Is there any more of it, what are the long term effects, and,-“ he peaked at her through his bangs, “-what would you want in exchange for some?”

“You want a potion?” Nephthys blinked. “What for?” Don’t tell me you’ve fallen in love with Kodya, and are here to trade your voice like in The Little Mermaid, she thought, remembering the Disney movie Kodya’’d never openly admit was his favorite.

“Well,” Gyrus began to twiddle his thumbs. “Alistair offered me a job, which would be a great way to learn even more about humans and their exchange. Besides,” he glanced up at her, eyes shining “What better way to understand humans than to be one? If I could use the potion, Kodya could take me everywhere and show me everything without having to describe it all!”

“Slow down a bit,” Nephthys held up her hand. “Kodya still has his own job to do, he’s not going to be free all the time.” Gyrus pouted a bit, and Nephthys suppressed a squeal at how adorable he looked. She was beginning to see why Kodya was so infatuated.

“You can use the potion though,” she offered, watching him perk up. “It’s fairly easy to make, provided you bring the sea glass I need to activate the magic.” Sea glass might be small, but every sea witch worth her salt knew there was powerful magic in objects that had become part of two worlds. Speaking of which… “There are a few limitations to this power,” she warned.

Gyrus sat straighter, watching her with a keen interest as she continued. “The first limitation is that this potion is temporary. It generally lasts a few hours, and if it's refined enough it might even last several days.” Not that she would be selling that potion to a first time user.

“But it can be unpredictable,” she continued, “and if you aren’t careful you can get stuck in some pretty awkward places and have to rely on others to come and rescue you.” Nephthys knew this from experience, as she’d once been trapped in the girl’s bathroom with eight tentacles, and had to yell for Kodya to run home and get her special bottle, no questions asked. Luckily he’d mistaken it for Advil and always been extra insistent she bring medicine with her every month.

“So be careful,” Gyrus nodded, brow furrowed. “Anything else?”

“Over use,” Nephthys said. “Is always a serious risk. If you keep taking the potion in rapid succession, you’ll find it harder and harder to change back. If that starts to happen, I’d recommend taking a break from potions for a little while, until the magic is completely clear from your system.” She’d done that once, and been forced to play invalid for two weeks before it was safe enough to begin again.

“Manage my time,” Gyrus nodded. “Got it. It can’t be harder than organizing Kodya’s finances.” Nephthys really wanted to ask. But she refrained in favor of communicating the final and most important piece of information.

“For some first time users, the transformation can be…unpleasant,” she added with a wince.

Gyrus looked up at her with mild alarm. “Was Tori…?”

“No, no.” Nephthys shook her head. “She was completely fine. Most are. But for some the psychological implications of losing their tail can be difficult to adjust to at first.”

Difficult. Wasn’t that the word.

-----------

Nephthys grit her teeth as she neared a boat on the farthest edge of the oil slick. She would only have one shot at this, and she needed it to go perfectly. She slung her father’s bag across her body so her arms were free. Then she grit her teeth and approached the great blackness.

Nephthys thrust her head above the oil slick water, dark goop slipping into every crevasse from her hair to her eyes and as it sank in her gills she finally understood what drowning felt like. But she couldn’t stop now. She blinked it away, looking desperately for something, anything, to grab on to, or she would perish like the rest of her pod’s singers. There!

Her salvation was a medal ladder welded to the side of the boat. Reaching out a hand, she grabbed the lowest rung. The oil on her hand made it slippery and hard to grasp, but she held on with an iron grip born of desperation.

She grabbed the wrung above, hauling her body upwards gasping for breath. Her lungs screamed for oxygen that without gills she seemed unable to fully supply, but she ignored it in favor of reaching for the next wrung, and then the next one after that. Her tentacles, normally so helpful for climbing, hung limp as the oil began to eat away at their protective slime.

Nephthys didn’t know how she did it, but somehow she managed to pull herself all the way to the lower deck, collapsing against it as spots swum before her eyes, and with the last of her strength she wrenched her father’s bag open, an uncorked the bottle inside, gulping down the contents.

The change was instant. A bright light filled her senses, and Nephthys found breathing became easier as her gummed up gills disappeared. A strange, tingling sensation ran over her lower body, as her tentacles knit themselves together. As the light faded, she looked down to see them gone. In their place were two brown human legs.

She wiggled her new toes experimentally, they seemed to function normally, no signs of the damage the oil had done to her tentacles had apparently transferred. By all accounts, they were a pair of perfectly normal human legs.

Nephthys bowed her head, and wept.

----------

“Gyrus! Get back here!” A sharp female voice called. Nephthys shook herself out of the memory as Gyrus looked at her guiltily. “I’ve got to go,” he said, pulling himself towards the curtain.

“I’ll help you,” Nephthys replied as she grabbed the handles of his chair and pushed him forward into the back. Tori, Sylvia, and Kodya all look up as they enter.

“Gyrus!” Tori is by his side in a flash. “Where have you been?”

“I was only in the front,” Gyrus rolled his eyes, “and besides. I wanted to ask Nephthys something.”

“What did she say to you?” Kodya demanded looking mildly alarmed. Nephthys felt slightly hurt. She wasn’t going to spill his obvious crush behind his back! She’d do it in front of him, through little in jokes said crush would hopefully not get.

“She explained more about the potion,” Gyrus said, launching into an edited version of what Nephthys had told him. Nephthys tried to listen, but felt a tug on her pant leg.

She looked down to see the fluffy haired siren had crawled out of the bath and was now sitting at her feet. She pointed at herself, then at Nephthys, and then made a flapping gesture with her hands that seemed to say, can we talk?

“Of course,” Nephthys smiled down at her. She cast a slight frown at the other three, Tori, Kodya, and Gyrus had apparently all gotten into a heated discussion about the potion and the job, with Tori solidly against it, Kodya against the job but not the potion, and Gyrus stubbornly insisting it was his choice. That looked like it was going to take a while.

She peaked back out the curtain. The desk would keep anyone from noticing Sylvia from the street, She should know, she designed it that way on purpose, and it would be a whole lot quieter. “How about you out here with me?” She offered, and Sylvia nodded, rolling her eyes at the others' nonsense.

Nephthys led the siren to the back of her desk and crouched down so they were both eye level. “What did you want to talk about?” she asked.

Sylvia began to gesture wildly, far too fast for Nephthys to understand.

“Stop,” she held up a hand. “I can’t understand you like that.”

Sylvia gave a frustrated groan as Nephthys looked around for some kind of solution. Her eye landed on an old pad and pencil she kept near the registry, and she pulled them out.

“Here,” Nephthys held them out to Sylvia. “Use these to tell me.”

Sylvia took the pad and pencil and began to draw in the thick, dark lines of someone who was used to using markers. Nephthys peaked over her shoulder, to see several rough sketches of sirens.

“Do you want to talk about your pod?” Nephthys asked. And Sylvia beamed. “Are Tori and Gyrus’ fights getting on your nerves?”

Sylvia’s face fell as she shook her head. She pointed at the pod on the pad, then at the curtain, and waved her hands to indicate no.

“They aren’t your pod,” Nephthys translated. “Do you want me to find them?” she guessed. Sylvia nodded.

Nephthys bit her lip. “Divining is tricky. I can’t guarantee I’ll find anything.” Even on her best of days her visions were confusing. And then she’d failed to predict the spill…she didn’t want Sylvia to get her hopes up.

Sylvia met her eyes, and Nephthys saw time rewind inside them. Monsters swam the clear seas, hunting and in turn were hunted by wild sirens in rudimentary armor. Strange sea witches in gleaming white would bespell the bones into plates for their warriors, while singers sang songs too beautiful to be confined by simple language. At night the pod would swim to the surface, unafraid of humans or ships, as their knowledge-spinner sang the emotions of their ancestors beneath strange stars.

They were beautiful. And they were gone. Their memory was frozen and stationary, and though Nephthys cast out her sight as far as she could, she could not see a trace of them anywhere in the world.

Nephthys felt her eyes well with tears. “I’m so sorry,” she said. Sylvia looked down at the floor, and her aura flickered a melancholy blue. She’d expected this, Nephthys realized. She’d just wanted it confirmed.

Nephthys bit her lip. She knew what that felt like. What would she have wanted someone to say to her? “It doesn’t stop hurting,” she started, and Sylvia looked up, eyes swimming with tears. “But overtime, you do find a new family, even if you have to make it yourself.”

She knew that better than anyone.

---------

“What the?” a human voice made Nephthys stop crying. She looked up to see a human boy, about her age, maybe a bit younger, staring at her. His eyes traveled from her oil soaked hair to her new legs and back to her tear stained face. Nephthys gave a sniffle, and the boy jumped, releasing a string of words Nephthys didn’t recognize.

“Here,” he tore off his long shirt, what was the word? Jacket? And held it out to her with a blush. “To cover you, ah,” he looked away, clearly embarrassed. Nephthys took it, glancing down at her legs. She wondered how to put it on, slipping one of her new feet into one of the sleeves.

“What are you doing!” the boy cried, coming closer to tug the jacket off her leg. “It’s not a pair of pants! You put it around your waist! What is wrong with you?” He stopped suddenly, looking deliberately upwards over her shoulder.

Nephthys pulled the fabric tight around her waist. Marveling at its softness. The edges bled oil as they brushed against her legs, staining the whole thing black. She bit her lip, feeling tears well up.

The boy rose to his feet, determination blazing in his eyes. “Stay here,” he said, and took off moving almost as fast as the strongest warrior could swim. Nephthys stared after him, feeling completely bewildered, but in no more than a minute he returned, holding some fabric high.

“Here’s a pair of pants!” he called, pushing the fabric into her hands. “Now put this on while I look this way.” He turned his back to her. She slipped into the pants, one foot in one hole and the other in the other and pulled up, glancing at the boy for reference.

“Thank you,” she murmured as they came up. They fit awkwardly, so loose she had to tuck them under her plates to keep them up, but Nephthys didn’t care. “Thank you,” she whispered.

“Don’t worry about it,” the boy smiled. “I’m Kodya, what’s your name?”

“Nephthys,” Nephthys said, and the boy smiled.

-----------

The bell rang at the shop door as Nephthys broke from the memory. She and Sylvia traded a look of pure fear, before Sylvia began to flop as fast as she could towards the back. Nephthys helped by all but shoving her behind the curtain before standing up to lie her head off to whatever customer showed up.

She needn’t have worried. It was only Knox, here for his daily dose of “love potion.” Nephthys would have felt bad about that, it wasn’t a real potion, just honey and lemon and some sugar water thrown in, but he wasn’t actually buying it for himself. Rather he was buying it for Alistair who was not allowed in Nephthys’ shop during work hours, after a flirting fail got a tourist to call the cops.

He took it without any confusion as to why Nephthys was apparently hiding under her desk, and went on his way. But Nephthys breathed a sigh of relief when he walked out of the door.

“Excuse me,” Nephthys spun around to see Tori standing in front of the curtain, looking nervous. Her shoulders straightened as she noticed Nephthys’ attention.

“I would like to apologize,” she began, “for my earlier rudeness, and thank you for the shelter and kindness you have shown me and my companions.” She gave a stiff half bow and nearly toppled over, clearly not used to doing so without a tail or the water to keep her steady.

“It’s nothing,” Nephthys waved a hand. “I didn’t have a chance to explain, and so it must have come as quite a shock. Besides,” she added when she saw Tori was about to protest. “Any friend of Kody’s is a friend of mine.” He had so few of them after all.

Tori shifted uncomfortably, and Nephthys raised an eyebrow. Did she not get along with Kody? He seemed fine with her when he talked about them all with Nephthys. Perhaps she was just still feeling guilty. She opened her mouth to reassure her, but Tori got there first.

“There is one thing I would ask of you,” she began, glancing back at the curtain and lowering her voice. “Do you have any great skill at healing?”

Nephthys raised an eyebrow. It had been a while since anyone had asked her of that. Most of her healing magic was tucked away in her potions, hidden as cold cures or natural headache relief. Her finer work was only sold to the organization, who claimed it was too dangerous for her to sell it on the street lest people become suspicious. But nonetheless…, “I do.” She confirmed.

Tori bit her lip as she stepped closer to Nephthys. “What I am about to tell you, you must not tell Gyrus,” she whispered. “But his mother, who has struggled with health since his birth, has taken a turn for the worst. She did not want him to see her, and so allowed him to go on this quest. If you have any way to help,-“ Tori’s eyes widened hopefully, “perhaps she could recover before Gyrus realized.”

Nephthys took a deep breath. “I’ll help if I can,” she said. “Gladly. But I’d need to examine her before I could determine a proper treatment.”

“That’s no problem!” Tori jumped in. “I can swim you to where we have stashed her. It’s not so far.” But Nephthys shook her head.

“If I were to treat her, she’d need to be brought to me,” Nephthys reluctantly explained. “And I can’t go out into the water.”

“Why not?” Tori pressed. “You’re a sea witch.” Nephthys stiffened and Tori noticed. “If the distance is a problem for tentacles, we could go slowly,” she offered, coming to a well-meaning, but completely wrong conclusion.

“I’m afraid that won’t work either,” Nephthys shook her head, a false smile on her lips. “You see, I can’t swim in my other form. The oil burn on my gills prevents me from breathing underwater.”

Tori flinched, and Nephthys felt her heart clench. She looked so guilty, and heartbroken. Nephthys wished she could do something to help. She knew how horrible it felt to be helpless.

----------

The boy called Kodya led her along the side of the ship towards what he claimed was the captain’s office. Nephthys wasn’t certain what a captain was, but Kodya seemed pretty convinced he would be able to help her. “He’s known my dad for ages,” he reassured her. “He’ll know what to do.”

Nephthys privately disagreed, how could anyone help her when everyone she’d ever loved was dead or dying beneath the waves? But she kept this to herself.

Kodya noticed anyways, shooting her worried glances as he ushered her along. He seemed determined to keep her from looking at the water, planting himself firmly between it and her, and chatting about anything small that came into his head in an effort to distract her. It would be sweet, if he wasn’t so horrible at it.

Case and point: “your shirt is weird,” Kodya said. “Where did you get it?”

Nephthys touched her white plates, grown, carved, and be spelled from the finest coral skeletons she could find. “Nowhere,” she said. “I made it myself.” Proper plates for a proper sea witch. Her father had been so proud.

“Is it a Transformers costume?” Kodya asked, and Nephthys sensed a layer of hope in his voice.

“I don’t know what that is?” Nephthys said, and Kodya’s face fell. “I made it with magic,” she offered instead, hoping to cheer him up.

His head snapped to her, and he regarded her with mild alarm, until his eyes landed on her smile, and the concern melted into mild annoyance. “You’re pulling my leg,” he grumbled.

“I’m really not,” She giggled. “I’m a witch you see.” And a sea witch at that. Not that he was likely to believe her, since most of her kind stayed well away from humans. Speaking of which, a movement on the horizon caught her eye. Was that a pod gathering? What were they doing so close to the oil spill?

Her answer came as the most lovely song filled the air, full of mourning and heartbreak. Nephthys felt her own eyes tear up as her sorrow began to overwhelm her.

“Can you hear that?” Kodya stopped mid eyeroll, gaze fastened on the horizon. Nephthys was too overwhelmed to reply, and so he began moving towards the railing, movements slow and lethargic.

Later Nephthys would curse her own foolishness, for who among the siren and sea witch did not know what a trance looked like? But the truth was there was no way she could have seen it coming. Her own grief overwhelmed her, and besides, mourning chants are not supposed to be dangerous.

Kodya climbed over the railing, and too late Nephthys realized what was going on. She threw herself forward, but Kodya was already falling down into the oil covered water. She collapsed on the edge, half wanting to follow, but knowing neither form could face the dangers of the oil.

Helpless, she could only scream, as something below the water snaked towards him.

----------

“I am sorry,” Tori said, and Nephthys’ attention focused on her and not on the past. “I did not mean to bring up painful memories.”

Nephthys gave Tori a false smile. “It was not your fault. You didn’t know.”

Tori looked like she was going to protest, but at that moment, a bright light surrounded Tori’s legs. Tori collapsed with a cry of shock, and as Nephthys blinked away spots she found Tori on the ground, towel still wrapped around her blue tail.

“Oh my,” Nephthys glanced at her watch, to find two hours had passed. “that has to be the shortest time I’ve ever seen. That piece of sea glass must not have been in the sea very long.”

Tori twitched her tail, looking pleased as she ran a hand over the burnt orange tips. “Your potion works well Nephthys, my tail is completely normal.”

“How lovely,” Nephthys giggled. A motion on the street caught her eye, a car on the otherwise deserted street. It didn’t stop, but it would only be the first of many as people began to get off of work. “We should probably get you back in the sea though,” she said.

“Aye,” Tori nodded. “There has been enough adventure today.” She pulled herself to the curtain and stuck her head inside. “My tail has returned,” she yelled. “I believe it is time to return.”

“Sure!” Gyrus pulled himself and his makeshift wheelchair out. Sylvia followed, leaving a trail of water in her wake.

“You can’t go out like that!” Kodya appeared behind them, looking harried. “We’re trying not to get caught and experimented on, remember?”

“Experimented on?” Nephthys raised an eyebrow. Kodya blushed.

“Well what else do you think the government’s going to do with them if they find them?” He snapped back.

You’d be surprised, Nephthys thought as she hid a smile behind her hand. “We can use the back,” she offered as Kodya shot her a frown. “Less people will be paying attention.”

Kodya sighed. “I’ll bring the truck around,” he grumbled as he grabbed his keys. Nephthys turned to the three sirens on her floor.

“Come back this way,” she said as she pushed open the curtain again. “The back door is in the back.” The three sirens groaned, clearly embarrassed they had to go backwards again. Nephthys led them to the back door, half hidden behind the workbench. It took a bit of time to move the bench, the three sirens' attempts to help had the opposite effect, but by the time it was free Kodya had already pulled up the truck.

From there it was a simple matter of helping Tori and Sylvia into the back of the truck, wrapped in towels to hide their towels. Gyrus’ wheelchair turned out to be a bit more of a challenge, and Kodya eventually decided to stick it in the backseat to avoid any odd questions from anyone who drove by them on the road.

Nephthys privately thought this was less about people wondering why a wheelchair was in the back of the truck with three people in a pool, and more to do with Gyrus’ earlier request. He was certainly ecstatic about it, clinging to the back of Kodya’s seat and chatting his ear off as he asked him how the car worked and what the steering wheel did.

Kodya for the most part answered calmly, but his whole face was bright red. Nephthys did not find this nearly as cute as before though, as she lost count of the times they very nearly died thanks to Kodya’s distraction. She was very glad when they arrived at the shore.

“Not here,” she stopped Kodya as he tried to pull in at the docks. “Go down a little farther, they’ll be less people.”

Kodya raised an eyebrow. “You mean that government issued beach? The one no one is allowed on?”

“It’ll be fine,” Nephthys reassured him. “I can get us in.” Kodya shot her a searching look, and Gyrus looked back and forth between them in confusion. Then Kodya shrugged and did as she requested.

The road was predictably blocked by a large gate, but that had never stopped Nephthys before. She got out and pulled a piece of plastic to the scanner. The gate opened with a rusty creak.

Kodya raised an eyebrow as she got back in the car. “Did you use your magic to fool it?” he asked as Gyrus leaned eagerly forward. Nephthys shook her head.

“Just borrowed something from our dear mum,” she said as she flashed a familiar badge at Kodya. “She doesn’t even know it's missing.” This was a lie, but Kodya didn’t need to know that.

Kodya opened his mouth, no doubt to tell her off. Nephthys raised an eyebrow, remembering several times he’d stolen the same badge to try and buy alcohol, or pet the puppies at Petco. Kodya shut his mouth and kept driving.

The single pier was empty, and perfect for their needs. Nephthys helped Tori to the edge while Kodya helped Sylvia. Gyrus attempted to wheel himself, but Kodya caught him before he tipped over. “We’ll need this dry,” he said as he pulled Gyrus out of the wheelchair. Gyrus pouted.

He waved at Nephthys. “I’ll bring you sea glass! Don’t forget!” he said, before wiggling out of Kodya’s arms and diving into the water. Kodya stumbled backwards and landed on his butt on the pier as Gyrus resurfaced. “Oops,” he rubbed the back of his neck. “Are you okay Kodya?”

“Fine, Kid,” Kodya grumbled. Gyrus beamed.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” he cried. Tori called to him, and he swam off, only stopping to wave goodbye on the horizon.

Nephthys watched him go. “They’re wonderful,” she murmured. Wonderful for Kodya. He’d needed a bit of magic in his life, and although she couldn’t reveal it, she’d always hoped he’d find some.

Kodya turned to her, brow furrowed. “Why didn’t you tell me about magic or mermaids or the sea? And be honest this time.”

Nephthys froze. Oh no.

----------

Nephthys sat on the strange bench, Kodya’s shirt around her shoulders, and shivered. All around her conversation buzzed, some complaining about how this unexpected delay would affect the rest of their cruise, others bemoaning the unfortunate fate of the ocean, as if they had any conception of the depth of the cost. Still others whispered to each other behind covered hands, shooting Nephthys curious looks and calling her, ‘only survivor’ and ‘poor thing.’ Throughout it all Nephthys clutched the soft fabric around her shoulders, feeling numb.

A woman in sharp black strode forward, and Nephthys could tell from the way people moved out of her way that she was important. She stopped directly in front of Nephthys and crossed her arms.

“My name is Senator Karevic,” she said, voice clipped and smooth. “You were there when my son fell into the water, correct?”

“It wasn’t his fault!” Nephthys pulled the fabric closer around her shoulders. “He was helping me!”

“My son has already admitted to falling after he helped you, so you don’t need to cover for him.” Nephthys looked down, feeling oddly chastened, and the woman sighed. “He’s fine,” the woman added, face softening slightly as she met Nephthys’ eyes. “Would you like to see him?”

“Yes, please,” Nephthys said, knowing her guilt would not ease until she saw Kodya unharmed. The woman waved Nephthys to her feet, and guided her out of the crowded area and down a quiet hallway. Nephthys followed, still a bit unsteady on her new feet, as she tried to keep up with the woman’s quick pace.

“You’re a sea witch, aren’t you?” the woman said without preamble, as soon as they had passed out of earshot. Nephthys stopped dead.

“H-how?” she stuttered out, heart pounding in her chest and deafening her ears. That was supposed to be a secret, no humans were supposed to know.

“Your plates,” the woman said, back still turned. “I knew you were one of the sea folk from Kodya’s story, but I wasn’t certain which one until I saw them. To wear white at such a young age,-” the woman turned to face Nephthys, and Nephthys could see her eyes were wet, “-that truly is a great honor.”

Nephthys bit her lip. She knew no normal human would understand what a plate was, especially considering Kodya’s earlier reaction. “Are you - ?” she started, but was too afraid to finish, for fear of the answer she might get.

“I’m one of the sea folk, yes.” The woman confirmed, still looking sad. “There are more of us on land then you’d think.” She hesitated, then said, “I know this is hard, but I’m going to need you to tell me what happened to you, if you’re up for it.”

Nephthys burst into tears. Through her sobs, she managed to get the basic details, how her pod had been hunting when the great ship had come by, the singers thought they could sing it away, how it had spilled, how her dad had given her the last potion and told her to run, how he’d- he’d…

“I’m all alone now,” she sobbed. “My whole pod, gone.” Arms circled around her, and the woman pulled her close to her chest, rubbing soothing circles as she sobbed.

“Brave,” the woman murmured, “you’ve been so brave little pup, but it’s okay to cry.” She held Nephthys until her sobs died down into sniffles, before pulling slightly away.

“There’s an organization here that can help you,” she offered. “They helped me start over when I needed to. If you’d like, I can put you in touch with them, and they can find you a place to live where you don’t have to worry.” She hesitated again, before adding, “…or…”

“Or?” Nephthys prompted as she gave another sniffle.

“Kodya spoke highly of you,” the woman began, “and I know he’s lonely now I have to work so much. If you want, you could live with us. “Nephthys gasped and the woman rushed to continue. “We’d still put you in touch with the organization, you’d just have familiar faces at your new home.”

“Really?” Nephthys peaked up at her. “I could stay with you and Kodya?”

“Yes,” the woman nodded. “But,” she held up a hand, “before you agree, you need to know the conditions.” She looked Nephthys directly in the eye, and Nephthys suppressed a shiver at the hard determination hidden inside. “In my house you won’t be free to talk about magic or the sea. Kodya must never know. He does not belong in our world. If you live with us, you must understand this.”

“I- okay,” Nephthys looked down. A part of her was curious as to why, but the woman’s aura flickered a sad, sickly grey all around her, and Nephthys could sense that the reason behind that rule would be too sad for her to bear right now. She bit her lip.

“I would still be able to talk about magic when Kodya’s not there right?” she asked, and the woman nodded.

“Just provided he doesn’t overhear, yes.” Nephthys gave a sharp nod.

“Okay, then I want to live with you, and Kodya,” she said. She’d rather be around kind people than strangers, and besides, she didn’t think she’d be able to talk about the sea much for a while.

The woman looked mildly surprised, but she gave Nephthys a warm smile. “Then let’s go and break the good news to Kodya,” she said, and led Nephthys deeper inside the ship.

----------

Nephthys bit her lip, wondering how best to get out of this situation without revealing secrets that weren’t hers and losing her home and family. “You remember where you found me right?” she began hesitantly.

“On our cruise ship,” Kodya nodded. “When we got stuck in the oil spill.”

“Yes,” Nephthys nodded. “I wasn’t actually from the oil ship. My pod was swimming below when the spill happened.” She pulled her knees up to her chin, blinking away the memories.

Kodya placed a comforting hand on her back. “Go on,” he pressed.

Nephthys took a deep breath. “My dad gave me the potion, he used to keep one on him at all times, so that if he needed an ingredient from the surface world he could go and fetch it. He said I was too young though, even though I was fully plated. When the oil began to spill, he gave it to me and told me to swim.”

Kodya swore in Russian, and Nephthys shot him an empty smile. “I climbed on the ship farthest from the spill, drank it, and you know the rest.”

Kodya was silent for a while, before he finally asked, “But why didn’t you tell me? I could have helped you.”

“You were plenty of help. Besides,” Nephthys drew in another breath. “I made a promise.” Not technically a lie, not yet.

“A promise?” Kodya asked, sounding lost.

Nephthys nodded. “It was a rule of my dad’s, ‘never get caught on the surface, no matter what.” Again, not technically a lie, but the conclusion she was hoping he would draw certainly was. Her dad had never made her make any promises about the surface world because he’d never let her go. And it wasn’t like he had time to sit down and explain when she’d had to flee.

“Oh,” Kodya looked down and withdrew his hand from her back, withdrawing into himself. “I see. I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Nephthys reassured him, grateful he’d taken the bait. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too.” More than he would ever know.

They stayed on the beach for a long time.

#room of swords #room of swords fanfic #mermaid au #merfolk are overrated #ros Nephthys #kodya #Gyrus #tori grieve #ros sylvia

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