#Any bookmark-insults aside

[daily-sloop-john-b]

Actually, feel free to drag me in the Bookmarks. They're your space, dear.

Been hearing this is a problem again. Don't be a dick in bookmarks, folks. And yes while I made this image, I'm giving free reign. Take it. Spread it far and wide. Because I'm hearing that some readers don't know that their bookmarks are visible.

[autisticlancemcclain]

fic rec friday 10

welcome the the tenth fic rec friday! where, on friday, i rec five of my favourite fics.

1. A Rain-Check on Redamancy by @youraveragemushroom

Burnout these days usually came from working long nights at the Garrison. If Lance from five years ago could see himself today—working part-time to rebuild Earth and full-time as an instructor at the very same institution that gave him his crippling anxieties—he would probably shit a brick. Hell, five years ago he hadn’t even known aliens existed (although he always knew deep down that humans weren’t alone in the universe), and now he’s best friends with multiple! One of which had apparently texted him an hour ago.

Forgoing proper texting procedure due to fatigue and general doneness, Lance tapped on the icon to call back.

“Hello?” a familiar deep rasp answered from the other line.

“Hey, mullet,” Lance replied, pushing aside the papers in front of him to lay his head down on the desk. “What’s cooking?”

In which Lance finds himself ignoring how late it is and indulges himself in pining after Keith. Which becomes slightly more difficult when said object of his affections shows up in the middle of the night to rescue him from paperwork, stress, and the melancholy that came from being away from him.

the ‘god i wish you were here’ ‘look behind you’ trope will get to me EVERY single time idc. always makes me all stimmy bc its THE epitome of romance. this whole thing was so so romantic and full of parallels to the first episode to show how deep their relationship has gotten...i love me some romantic parallels fr

2. sweetheart by @jilliancares

“Sorry, babe,” Keith says. He even smiles, no doubt proud of himself.

And Lance knows it’s his fault. He started it, after all, but at least the biting term of endearment made sense when he was the one doing it. Keith had been talking to him like they were some old married couple. The kind who’ve been married too long and don’t love each other anymore and gripe over meaningless shit, only managing to piss each other off even further.

That’s why Lance called him dear. Because it made sense in the situation. It was a calculated insult. A strategic jab.

Keith, on the other hand, is weaponizing the term of endearment without any rhyme or reason, simply to get back at Lance.

Or: Keith and Lance have gotten into the habit of using pet names as condescending insults. They're not really terms of endearment.

ooooooo god endearments going from sarcastic to desperately genuine and the inherent hopelessness in that....whew boy. its def a Concept that u indulge and then you have to clutch ur stomach. i remember reading this as i was getting ready and brushing my teeth and the cliff scene made me gasp out loud and stop just to i could pay Full Complete Attention

3. don’t speak the language by @goldengalaxies

“More importantly” Lance says. “I am currently having a breakdown in this lift because look at him- I am so incredibly gay.”

“Lance!” Hunk buries his face in his hands. “He could speak English you know, your skills of deduction are really not that good.”

Lance ignores his warning in favour of groaning dramatically. “Oh, Dios mio, Hunk, he’s so gorgeous. Look at those muscles. He could probably bench press me.” Lance fanned himself. “Oh my God, fencing is my new favourite sport, fuck swimming.”

(or the one where Lance thirsts after a random guy in the lift who he thinks can’t speak English. lance is very wrong and hunk is very much done with his shit.)

let me tell u about this fuckin FIC. it’s hilarious, but i first read it before i meticulously started storing and bookmarking my fave fics, so when i wanted to reread it i couldnt find it. but i KNEW it was hilarious so i spent fckn hours looking for it, and it took me hours too bc i coulnt figure out which tags to filter. but it was WORTH IT. the entire concept of this fic is hilarious and makes me laugh. amazing work.

4. Whose bright idea was this? by IronScript

When Lance is captured during a mission with the MFE pilots, he wakes up aboard Haggar's ship, though the witch herself isn't there, so he figures why waste an opportunity? Then he finds something that he definitely hadn't expected.

All the while, he has no idea that back at the Garrison, his team and a few select others are watching his every move.

bro the idea that the team is panicked for lance’s safety and they desperately organise a rescue mission for him terrified that hes getting tortured and losing hope but by the time they find him he’s already got one foot out the door and has rescued himself is ENDLESSLY funny to me. like he really said ‘damsel in distress who’ and i love him for that lmao

5. Garfle! Warfle! Snick! by IronScript

How the game show episode actually should have happened.

I'll admit to being a Lance stan, but even people who don't like him seem to agree that he was really fucked over in this episode. So here's my attempt at it. Is it more realistic than what actually happened? I like to think so.

another ironscript fic bc they nail bamf lance. this is how the gameshow WOULD have gone if vld gave a shit about their characters like actually. like yes of course the team is proud of each other and capable of acknowledging mistakes. of course keith knows lance’s worth. of course lance is a badass. of course the team knows wtf theyre doing. love to read this when i get mad about the game show

that’s it for today!! i’ll see y’all back next friday for the next fic rec post!!!

[sammysdewysensitiveeyes]

Choose violence game.

You know what. I'm very curious about your opinion about ALL OF THE NUMBERS

Wow, you chose violence, my friend. And I appreciate it!

These answers are mostly exclusively for Marvel/X-Men fandom. Be warned, I blab on forever. I cut out questions I already answered.

the character everyone gets wrong

I would love it if writers and fans stopped treating Sebastian Shaw as a sexist strawman.  I think the most ridiculous recent example was Shaw arguing against Curse’s resurrection in X-Men Green, and Kitty accusing him of having problems with powerful women he can’t control, and name-dropping Jean “Fire and life incarnate” like that’s supposed to intimidate Sebastian.  Give me a break, are we really girlbossing Curse?  I think Sebastian opposes Curse’s resurrection because she went a killing spree that makes her a liability to Krakoa.

It's also…..interesting to me that Sebastian is treated like the epitome of rich white male privilege.  I mean, I get it, he is rich and white and male, and he acts like he spends all his free time swimming in the money bin, but he also grew up in poverty.  There are plenty of rich characters born into wealth who don’t get this treatment.

2. a compelling argument for why your fave would never top or bottom

All my faves do both.

3.screenshot or description of the worst take you've seen on tumblr

I’m assuming this means just fandom related, not real world issues.  But if I can veer away from X-Men fandom for a second, I really, really hate the way English-speaking manga fans have picked up the word fujoshi and turned it into “those awful women who fetishize MLM”  The original meaning of fujoshi, or “rotten women,” was misogynistic and homophobic male manga fans insulting any woman who was a big fan of anime/manga, and especially women who shipped M/M.  Japanese female fans embraced and reclaimed the term as a kind of badge of honor.  And now English-speaking, mostly Western fans on Tumblr have snatched up the term, which they don’t fully understand, as a way to differentiate themselves, the “good” M/M fans, from those awful fujoshi, the “bad” M/M fans.  I honestly think it’s racist to use the word that way.  You don’t get to enjoy Japanese BL/yaoi manga (or ship characters from manga) and also steal a word from Japanese fandom and use it incorrectly to bash on other fans.  If you want to talk about female fans fetishizing gay men, that’s a conversation we can have without taking a word out of context from another culture.  Personally, I think the main thing that really matters is how people treat actual, real life LGBTQ people.

4. what was the last straw that made you finally block that annoying person?

Aside from those friendly pornbots, the main people I block are random strangers that I see having shitty opinions on threads reblogged by people I follow (the people I follow are generally reblogging a refutation of the shitty opinion).  So anyone posting, say, anti-trans stuff gets a block immediately. 

I’ve never blocked a mutual or someone that I previously followed, it would take a lot to get me to do that.  There was one blog that I had bookmarked and frequently read back before I had a tumblr account, because they mostly posted about a character I like.  Their posting got gradually more and more red-pilled – they started posting Jordan Peterson videos, then it was pro-Trump stuff.  I don’t know what the hell happened, they had seemed like an intelligent and empathetic person.  I never officially followed them on tumblr, but last time I checked their blog, they were whining about SJW.  Blocked.

5. worst discord server and why

I’m barely on Discord, aside from talking to a couple of IRL friends.  I prefer this Discord. 

And this one.

6. which ship fans are the most annoying?

I think it all comes down to the individual fans.  Any ship can be annoying if it gets large enough that it sort of dominates fandom, but I still don’t mind if the fans are well-behaved.  Ship wars in general annoy me – ship and let ship, as far as I’m concerned.  I probably get more annoyed with people who make a big deal about hating a particular ship.  I don’t mean just disliking it, or making a few posts venting about the ship or fans being annoying, I totally understand that. I mean constantly posting about how much they hate the ship, like it’s their own personal crusade.

9. worst part of canon

That Pyro and Avalanche have not kissed yet.

10. worst part of fanon

That not enough people have written about or drawn Pyro and Avalanche kissing.

11. number of fandom-related words you've filtered

None.  I don’t really bother.

12. the unpopular character that you actually like and why more people should like them

Morph from TAS.  Look, here’s this upbeat and cheerful mutant (who is also kind of annoying, admittedly), who is “killed” while trying to protect their friend, and then goes through absolute hell being manipulated and tortured and turned against their own team and having to confront their own dark side because they did terrible things, that’s an interesting character right there.  And Exiles Morph shows that TAS Morph has a ton of untapped potential in their powers.  Not to mention, we know so little about the character and their background, you can project whatever fanon you want onto them.  (Slaps roof) This bad boy can fit so many headcanons into them!

While I’m at it, I’ll also give a shout-out to Spyke from Evolution, a cute and likable kid with very cool powers, who also goes through an interesting arc with his powers visibly mutating his body, and he goes underground to live with the Morlocks and becomes their protector (which is nice, given that the X-Men mostly ignore the Morlocks).  And unlike Morph, Spyke was actually a main cast member on the show.  No offense to X-23, but how is it she got imported into the comics as a major character, despite only appearing in two episodes, and Spyke never really did?  (I know the answer – it’s because she’s a Wolverine.)

13. worst blorboficiation

Leah Williams completely re-writing Blob’s personality.  Don’t get me wrong, I like a more thoughtful, sensitive Blob, I like chill bartender Blob living his best life on Krakoa, I don’t like a personality change that barely resembles the old character.  I like Blob’s big and loud personality, even when he was often an obnoxious jerk, and I think there are ways to write him more sympathetically without completely losing that.

To be honest a lot of Leah Williams writing is just…..a little too Tumblr for me?  (Outside of other issues)  Like I totally love and appreciate the jokes and memes people make on here, but I can’t stand Jubilee using the phrase “juicy dumper” to describe having a nice ass.  Not because Jubilee can’t talk about sex or her body, or be vulgar, she’s a grown adult mother.  Just that “juicy dumper” sounds so fucking stupid, even for Jubilee, who is a slang queen.  It’s speech that works online, but people shouldn’t actually say it.

14. that one thing you see in fics all the time

If we’re talking about things that annoy me, the obvious influence of TV or movie versions of characters when people are supposedly writing the comics version.  Or people tagging all possible adaptations, even though those have wildly different versions of the characters.  I don’t mind people being creative and adapting various versions of the characters, I do mind people claiming they’re writing the comics character, and it’s obviously the movie/cartoon version.  Or going into a fic not knowing at all which versions of the character I’m going to get.  That’s probably my most petty, gate-keeping fandom opinion.

15, that one thing you see in fanart all the time

I really don’t have a problem with most fanart. I do get tired of Madelyne Pryor fanart being all evil-sexy-boobs-out Goblin Queen, but in fairness, that’s how the comics have been depicting her for years.  And unless you tag it as Maddy, or put her in her flight suit or Anodyne costume, it’s hard to know it’s her otherwise.

16. you can't understand why so many people like this thing (characterization, trope, headcanon, etc)

The Wolverine/Jean/Scott “love triangle,” I’m so tired of it, but Wolverine writers will never let the whole Jean thing go.  I think fandom is actually pretty divided on it at this point, but there are plenty of people that still seem to love it, or want some kind of poly thing between them.  (I don’t have an issue with a poly relationship in comics, I just have an issue with Jean/Wolverine.)  I hate it because it feels forced, because Wolverine has had many partners and it seems like writers just want him to be the cool guy who gets all the women, and because they want some of the conflict between Wolverine and Scott to revolve around Jean, even though it’s already an obvious conflict between team leader and Guy Who Hates Authority.  I have never read any kind of attraction on Jean’s part that has convinced me, it just feels like Wolverine either pining for or chasing after a woman who is not interested, and who is already with someone else.  I’d much rather see Wolverine/Storm, or Wolverine/Storm/Nightcrawler if people want a poly ship.  That’s actually a romance growing naturally out of friendship and mutual respect, not “The cool rebel guy likes The Girl, and therefore he should have her.”

17. there should be more of this type of fic/art

Pyro and Avalanche kissing, obviously.

18. it's absolutely criminal that the fandom has been sleeping on...

Shinobi Shaw.  He’s a hot bad boy with a history of being abused, he’s the son of a prominent villain, he’s bisexual and has an amazing fashion sense (when he’s not in Marauders).  He’s a poor little meow meow.  He has all the qualities that should make Tumblr latch onto him, but for some reason people haven’t.  Maybe because he hasn’t had much to do in the Krakoa era outside of Marauders, and he didn’t really get to do much in Marauders, either.

20. part of canon you found tedious or boring

I’ve been trying to read some of the original X-Men issues, like the stuff from way back in the 60’s, and wow is it a slog.  I’m honestly mostly bored with the original five, I like Jean and Bobby, but I think the book gets way more interesting when the Giant Size X-Men show up.

21. part of canon you think is overhyped

Big comics events, editors please stop making writers interrupt their stories every few months for the latest “event.”

But the recent specific thing is Mr. Sinister.  He’s a fun and entertaining character, but he or one of his clones have played SUCH a big role in the Krakoa books, and we just had an entire event about him taking over, and it seems like his story still isn’t over, I’m honestly just tired of him.  I’m glad classic Sinister went into the Pit, but there are still three clones running around to fill the void, and they’re not that interesting either.  I don’t want Sinister to leave the books entirely, I just want him and his variants to GO AWAY for a little while.

22. your favorite part of canon that everyone else ignores

Phantazia.  Where are you, Eileen?

Also, why has no one put Pyro and Fabian Cortez together as a musical duo when they both can canonically play instruments.  (Or at last, Fabian says he can…..)

23. ship you've unwillingly come around to

I can’t think of any ship I actively dislike that I’ve been convinced to like.  But I have been introduced to ships that I hadn’t thought about before, like Maximus/Namor, or Gambit/Quicksilver, or Unus/Blob.  I was already into Sam/Bucky, but fans have got me liking it even more.

24. topic that brings up the most rancid discourse

Things aren’t so bad on Tumblr, but on other social media like Reddit, any time a character in super-hero comics is LGBTQ.  It doesn’t matter if it’s a pre-established character coming out, or a completely new character, all the assholes come crawling out of the woodwork to explain why they totally don’t have a problem with gay characters, they just don’t like the way this particular one is written.  Every time.  There is no winning with these fans.  If it’s an established character coming out, then we get “Just make a new character, don’t change an established one!”  Even though comics are full of other types of character retcons.  Even though creators were restricted in depicting gay characters for decades (and to some extent probably still are), and a lot of meant-to-be-queer characters got straightwashed.  Even if it’s a minor recurring character whose sexuality was never previously established.  If it’s a completely new character, then they are an example of comics going “woke” and caring more about agendas than storytelling.  If the character’s sexuality is not a major part of their storyline, then they’re a token, if it is a major part of their storyline, then the character’s whole personality is about being gay.  There is no “right way” to write LGBTQ characters for these fans, because they really just don’t want gay characters in their super-hero comics.

This also applies to just about anytime a character is something other than a straight white dude or a conventionally hot woman.  “I just want good storytelling, not forced diversity!” people say about Kamala Khan, a popular and well-written character who has carried her own book with a great supporting cast for years.

25. common fandom complaint that you're sick of hearing

Anything negative about the inclusive nature of A03.  Use the damn tags, or else go construct your morally pure fandom archive somewhere else.

[365sylviaplath]

Week of 9/16-9/22

astrology forecast + collective tarot card for the week

Card for this week: Empress (reversed) - what contrast to last week's Emperor upright! the call for self care is loud as fuck. some might be "girlbossing too hard" these days. others may be doing the classic "take care of everyone else.... at your own expense". either way, you've had it. it’s important to pair times of productivity and industriousness with times of rest and rejuvenation. set aside a time for non-negotiable You time this week. let yourself recognize frustrations and when you might be picking yourself apart, honor those feelings and sit with them, and make that time for something "self indulgent" afterward. i'm feeling lots of old patterns re-emerging these days, things you thought you had moved past, and the resulting frustration that those can just reappear so nonchalantly. as annoying as this is, they are reappearing to be resolved! you will see how far you've come and how much you don't need to hold on to your old coping mechanisms or harsh ways of seeing yourself. you do not exist to simply take care of everyone else!

Transits/Astro forecast: hope everyone had a nice productive time last week! to put it simply, i just finished up a free coursera course i bookmarked back in 2019. it was serious for me last week. we’re shifting focus this week to past cycles we are ready to release and dream worlds we are looking to build. as we know- current rxs are chiron, saturn, uranus, neptune (topical this week!), pluto (back into capricorn One Last Time).

we have the lunar eclipse/full moon in pisces, lots of retrograde outer planet/sun contacts, and the start of libra season this week. Fall Has Arrived. i find it poetic how the autumnal equinox is always the start of libra season and one of the two days each year where the hours of daylight are exactly equal to the hours of night/darkness. balance. anyway, this week's motto is something like "why can't i do the thing i've been wanting to do?". notice all the ways you've subconsciously held yourself back. you're ready to let those go now. also, please let yourself rest this week when you're tired. this feels like it could get exhausting.

as for specifics-

tuesday 9/17 - lunar eclipse/full moon in pisces loosely conjunct neptune - could be some crazy dreams this week. so begins another eclipse season (until early october's solar eclipse). general vibe here is Lots of Feelings, rapid change, fated events. plot building moments. last eclipse featuring pisces was late february 2017, something going on back then could be coming back up now. neptune along with this piscean energy is likely to create distortions and emotional turbulence - let yourself ride the wave before coming to any big decisions. new chapters will emerge from what you'll be releasing this week, just give yourself time to process.

wednesday 9/18 - mercury opposite saturn rx - fight that inner critic!!!!!! you've worked really hard this year. and in life overall. you know the distortions are not truths and mistakes are allowed.

thursday 9/19 - sun trine uranus rx - the world loves your quirks and things you think you have to hide. that one person who insulted you in middle school doesn't know anything about you. come back!

friday 9/20 - sun opposite neptune rx - kinda crazy consistent energy here this week.... your haters are a social experiment. don't let confusions and deception sway you into believing you should be something you're not.

saturday 9/21 - mercury square jupiter rx and sun trine pluto rx - be inquisitive and curious this week. big Fuck Around and Find Out (affirmative) vibe. dare to ask the forbidden questions and receive answers you couldn't possibly have prepared for. shift your paradigm!

sunday 9/22 - sun enters libra/autumnal equinox, venus square pluto, venus enters scorpio - wowwww lots of shifting this whole week. libra and beauty/charm/grace enter the room first, then a whole bunch of plutonian energy comes in to get us thinking about what we realllly want. this is almost halfway between the eclipses as well, so many of us will be really feeling these Fated Events TM. deep relationship conversations/internal feelings emerging. this might be a day for that Self Love......

as i write this, there is a gorgeous grand trine between the moon, venus, and jupiter. beautiful, free flowing and loving energy after a lot of really self critical and harsher aspects lately. if i were one of the ig spirituality influencer girls, i'd call this "yummy" energy. this along with the Empress in reverse as the card of the week tells me there's such a need for unconditional self love this week. the kind of love you mentally reserve for a soulmate, the dedication and passion - give yourself some of that! going into libra season, remember that you are a major component in your partnerships, not an afterthought. love you, divas. you deserve the world.

[funnyexel]

hiiiii (idk if i sent u this already soz if i did) but if ur still writing for billy loomis can i request reader trying to get him into horror literature too, not just movies? like reading him edgar allan poe and buying him stephen king books lol

Afraid of My Words

Billy Loomis x Black Female Reader

A/n: Thanks for sending this! I’m so in love with this idea. I did my best to write this story according to your request.

Warning(s): Controlling, horror, mentions of gore

Don’t be afraid to send a request! -> Masterlist Mega List

“Oh! Look Billy.” You point to the blockbuster window. “A horror movie.” He says, stopping to look at you. “You’re too scared to watch it.” You tug at his hand, rolling your eyes at his insult. “That was a different movie. This one doesn’t look so scary.” You smile trying to persuade him. “This is a Stab movie.” He gives the poster a glance and looks back to you, unamused. “Fine.” You sigh, reluctantly. Knowing you can’t persuade him any further. Giving the poster one last glance before walking away with him. He takes you to your doorstep. “I’ll see you later.” You smile to him and lean into him to give him a sweet kiss. “Okay.” You say to his farewell. Waving to him as he watches you take your time getting into your house. Going up to your room, you got comfortable laying on your bed and took out your newly acquired book. Its a horror book and you can’t get past chapter one. “Okay, I can do this!” You cheer yourself on as you open the book to the last page you read. Getting through a few lines, your intrigued by the wording. You jump closing your eyes.

Closing the book, you take deep breaths. “At this rate, I’ll never finish the book.” Multiple knocks hit your window as you flinch. Calming yourself down, you pull the curtain aside and unlock your window. “Billy you really scared me.” You say to him as he climbs in. “I have a front door, you know.” He gets to his feet and glances at you then your bed. “No wonder you’re so jumpy.” He laughs under his breath, pushing past you and looking at your book. “You are such a wimp.” He teases while holding the book in the air. “Give it back!” You utter and reach for the book, unknowingly gripping his shoulder for a boost. He purposely drops it, fumbling in your hands as you catch it. Looking at the cover of the book and the bookmark, you realize that you won’t be able to read the rest of it by yourself. “Can you help me read the rest?” You ask. “It.” He exclaims with a tilt of his head. “You want me to read a clown book with you.”

“Yes, can you read a clown book with me?” You whine, shoving the book in his face. “see, I didn’t get far. It’ll be like we started it together.” He stands there, mentally contemplating his decision. “please?” The simple word, giving him a smirk. “Fine.” He shrugs, sitting on the bed and taking off his shoes. You smile and sit next to him. Moving some pillows around, you both scoot to your back board and get comfortable with each other. Opening the book in your lap you pick up where you left off. Feeling less scared then before. “As he walked through the hallway, he felt as if IT was watching him. He didn’t look or glance at it, he hastily walked past the painting.” You read aloud, Billy attentively listening. You were on a role. Reading a series of pages and even getting to the next chapter but you kept messing up. “The…they, when they….could.” He huffs and takes the book from you. “They waited for the lights to go out before they could enter the shady shack.” You turn to him as he reads. Resting your head on his shoulder, as you ease into his presence.

Listening to his rough voice reading the ink along the thin pages. Visualizing the scene and imagining his voice as the narration. Getting trapped in the peaceful moment, it took you a moment to realize the book was closed. “That’s enough reading.” He says, placing the book on your nightstand. “Why?” You ask, still relaxed in your spot. “You’re shaking, practically scared shitless from reading.” He laughs and you detach yourself from him, crossing your arms over your chest. “Oh, now you wanna act mad because I’m stating the obvious.” The silence surrounds the room to the point where you can clearly hear his breathing. “Y/n, look at me.” He asks, softening his voice to appeal to you. All you do is roll your eyes and scoff. “I said look at me, I’m not asking again.” He demands and warns you. Turning your head, you eye him. Your face radiating attitude. He shows you the tape with the Stab cover. “I thought I was too scared to watch it.” You mutter, happy but annoyed about what he said earlier.

“Don’t start. Come downstairs, so we can watch this movie.” He states, getting up with the movie and leaving the room. You wait a few moments before you leap up in excitement. Jumping up and down in triumph. Composing yourself, you sigh and smile in the mirror. “I always win.” You lip sync to yourself, exiting the room. Briskly ascending the steps, you turn the corner and sit on your couch. “Why are you all the way over there?” He asks, looking at you from the other side of the couch. You simply lean on the arm rest and wait for the movie. “Still not understanding why you’re mad.” He says putting on the movie. As the production title shows, he moves to your side of the couch. You look at him, unimpressed. He puts his hand on your thigh and butterflies burst in your stomach. Damn him. The movie automatically cuts to the first scene. Leaning forward, you wait for whats about to happen to them next. The character gets brutally stabbed by their unknown caller and you yelp. Your hand falling to his that fitted comfortably on your thigh.

You got through around half the movie until you started to get restless. Someone got stabbed and hung up like a piñata, then another got run over into a ditch. You did not want to see the next horrific killing, but you really did want to see. The anticipation of the scene making you so intrigued. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as you watched the unsuspecting side character. You jump out your seat, screaming at the sudden hands gripping your shoulders and Billy scaring you. “Billy, why would you do that.” You whine, breathing heavily and ripping his hands off you. All he did was laugh in your face. Your eyes got glossy as you watched him crack up. “What? Its just a little scare…” He tries to put his arm around you but you shove him off. A tear falls down your chin and you quickly wipe it away. “That wasn’t funny.” You mutter, curling up on the edge of the couch. “Come on, y/n. Its a joke.” He pokes you, leaning over to see your face. “I was trying to cheer you up.” His tone turns serious and you look at him.

“I’m sorry, okay. I didn’t know you were that scared.” He grumbles, moving your arm in order to pull you closer and hug you. You hum, trying to move away from him. “Now your grumpy.” He exclaims, searching for your eyes. Once he traps you in crippling eye contact, he leans in. Attempting a kiss. You move your face to the side, declining. “Look at me, now.” He orders and you disobey. “You’re mad, I’ll let you be mad but one thing you’re not gonna do is turn away from me. Understand?” He grabs your face in his palm and kisses you. It wasn’t meant to be sweet or cute, it was meant to be demanding and straight forward. As he forced his tongue past your lips and made yours dance with his. Your eyes shot open at his quickness. Putting your hand on his chest, you kiss back. Trying to catch up and match his pace. Your other hand, hooking around his neck and he leans you down. Your back against the couch seats. He breaks the kiss, hastily taking off your shorts, underwear and his pants.

Trailing rough kisses all over your neck and shoulder, his hand gently caresses your exposed waist. You lowly moan as his hand moves lower. You struggle to snag his boxer waistband to pull it down. Huffing in frustration. “Now you’re not mad.” You nod, feeling his erect on your thigh. “Say it.” His voice as serious as it can get and you whimper. “I’m not mad!” You answer, lip quivering at the teasing. “That’s great angel.” He sarcastically says. “That makes one of us.” He leans back, sitting down like he wasn’t planning to do anything. Sitting up, you look at him confused. “Are you going to stare or fix it?”

[writingandimagining]

High Up In the Astronomy Tower (Part 21)

Part 1 | Prev | Next | Masterlist

Summary: Christmas letters.

Word Count: 1k

Rating: Teen (other parts M), 💗

A/N: This part is short, but Part 22 will be posted soon! Formatted entirely as letters and Prophet articles I hope you enjoy this quick mini-part.

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Harry Potter’s Shopping Spree with His Not-So-Secret Lover

Harry Potter was sighted this past weekend shopping in Hogsmeade with his Halloween lover, a woman now identified as (Y/N) (Y/L/N). Miss (Y/LN), pictured above in the famed Hogsmeade watering hole the Three Broomsticks, is an ambitious and accomplished young woman. The youngest Muggle Studies professor in history she also boasts an impressive record on her OWLs.

The couple was seen visiting nearly every shop before their stop at the Three Broomsticks. One has to wonder if Miss (Y/L/N) is using Harry Potter for his money and connections.

December 10th, 1998

Dear Harry,

I hope your holiday is going well.

My parents and sister have been pestering me non-stop since that horrible Skeeter article came out yesterday. They don’t seem to believe me that we are not dating, though I am not sure if they would be happier if we were anyways. They seem especially worried about some rabid fans hunting me down to get to you which might be the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard.

Hope to hear from you soon,

Y/N

December 11th, 1998

Y/N,

George and Ron are taking every opportunity to mock me for the article. I’d take your family’s interrogation over their jokes.

Rabid fans do happen. I didn’t think you’d have to worry about it, but it seems Skeeter has given us no choice. Hermione and Ginny can both attest to that.

Best,

Harry

December 21st, 1998

Dear Draco,

I hope your holiday is going better than mine.

I’ve been nearly accosted by a Potter girl on every outing since the Skeeter article. I did not think Harry would have this many nutters lusting after him, but I do not see this slowing down any time soon. Especially since Skeeter has been publishing something in her column every day since the article. Though I would not know what she is saying since my parents have taken to hiding the Prophet the second it arrives once she started making comments on my dating history and appearance. I am not sure if I want to know what she is saying or not.

My rant aside I do hope your holiday is going well and I hope to hear from you soon.

Y/N

December 22nd, 1998

Dear Y/N,

My holiday has been blessedly uneventful. Mother and I cannot leave the country, but we ventured to the coast for a relaxing weekend.

Mother has been keeping me up to date on Rita Skeeter’s column since I told her that we are friends. I want to assure you she does not believe a word of it. She is righteously indignant on your behalf. I can say that her comments are nothing you want to see. Without her “source” or any sighting of you and Harry she is grasping at nothing to keep her readers interested. It will blow over soon. Keep holding out.

Regards,

Draco Malfoy

December 25th, 1998

Harry,

I have included your gifts into this package alongside gifts for Hermione, Ron, and the Weasleys. For Hermione, there is a customized muggle planner and writing tools. For Ron, there is an American Football Almanac and a vintage Chudley Cannons poster. For the Weasleys, I have included a few chocolates and candies.

Your gift is the bracelet wrapped in velvet cloth. It has several sleeping, calming, and purifying charms on it.

Your friend,

Y/N

December 25th, 1998

Dear Draco,

This package contains a gift for you and your mother. For your mother, the silver scarf and the note attached.

For you, there is a box set of Jane Austen’s novels. I marked the page we got to in Pride and Prejudice. Before you insult the bookmark, I designed it.

Your friend,

Y/N

December 26th, 1998

Y/N,

Everyone loved the gifts. The chocolates are gone already.

I wanted to thank you for the bracelet. I had the most peaceful sleep since I can remember last night.

I hope you enjoy your present.

Harry

December 26th, 1998

Dear Y/N,

Mother loves the scarf, and she sends her deepest regrets that she does not have a gift for you. I tried to assure her that you do not need a gift from her, but she refused to listen so be on the lookout for an owl from her.

She also extended an invitation to our New Year party this year. It is a charity event, I think that is her way to guarantee guests.

Thank you so much for the books. The bookmark is exceptionally detailed. Did you draw it yourself?

My gift is not nearly as thoughtful or personalized as yours, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless.

Regards,

Draco

December 27th, 1998

Harry,

You know I have to return your gift, right? You got me a fucking broomstick! How much did that cost you?

Y/N

PS: If you wanted to convince my parents that we aren’t together this gift certainly did the opposite.

December 27th, 1998

Draco,

I would love to attend your mother’s party.

Your gift is so lovely. I think your gift is far better than mine. My sister thinks so, she’s tried to steal the necklace several times now, claiming green is not my color. I think I’m going to have to put some anti-theft charms on it at this point.

Please let your mother know I truly appreciate the cloak, though I wish she had not spent so much.

Y/N

Malfoy Manor Open for Business

For the first time since the death of You-Know-Who, the Malfoy Manor will be hosting a holiday event. The charity ball will be held on December 31st benefiting the children of survivors of the Second Wizarding War.

Narcissa Malfoy, wife of the infamous Death Eater Lucius Malfoy, has been organizing and hosting charitable projects and events since her husband’s incarceration. She has seen a large amount of success in raising funds for the less fortunate, but it is the opinion of this reporter that no sum will be large enough to restore the Malfoy image.

With both her husband and son marked for life as Death Eaters it is a wonder that Mrs. Malfoy is accepted in wizarding society even at her severely diminished status.

Will you be in attendance to the Death Eater event of the season?

Tags: @benbarneswife1 @oh-my-overlord @hotleaf-juice @redcoatgirl @captainamericasinnocence @sugarlustry @eggs-whiskey-snipes @saayanaaa @haybalessss @marshmellowhat1 @bigpoppajes @dracosdarling @itchywitch33 @smilfoy @meaganjm @draw-back-your-bow @fiannee @supervoldejaygent @rorilisa @do44y @meipotter @katesreading @darkenwolfie @i1k @not-quite-joy @bella-vasquez216 @courtneeishuman @kareniliana @mauihs @scarlet-says-hi @chiefdreamercherryblossom @the-jess-life @dreams-in-blxck @letoof @haroldpotterson @little-ms-awkward @tranquiiit @catgirlmush @gracebtw @issatheartist @hearts4spidey @bloodyhell07 @livingperceptionsworld @cxtetxm @intoxicatingbullshit @pansexualmommamess @kovaillustrations @valdayluv @johnmurphys-sass @riptid-ee

[mari-writes]

🦉💕

“Hey ‘kaashi?”

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Have you ever wondered why the word ‘bitch’ is an insult?”

Akaashi looks up from his book to his boyfriend, one eyebrow lifting slowly. “Excuse me?”

Bokuto, who is currently kicking a volleyball around the apartment, shrugs. “Like, why do people insult women by calling them ‘bitches?’”

“Um, well…” Akaashi replies, unsure of where this is going.

“It makes no sense!” Bokuto cries, arms flailing. “The word ‘bitch’ just mean a dog species of the female sex, Right?”

“Right…”

“So why is that an insult? Dogs are great! And dogs of the female sex birth puppies, which are even better!”

Akaashi slides a bookmark between the pages of his book. He has a feeling this conversation will last a while. “I suppose men just want to equate certain women with animals to insult and demean them. Society is very sexist.”

“Yeah, I guess that’s it. Gosh, men are total dicks!”

“Many of them are, yes.” Akaashi nods. 

Bokuto kicks his volleyball towards the kitchen, falling onto the couch and resting his head on Akaashi’s lap.

Akaashi sighs, resigning to set aside his book. So much for a quiet reading session. “What brought this question on, love?”

The man shrugs again. “I was just curious. Hey, ‘kaashi?” 

“Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Did I ever tell you about the time some jerk called my sister that word?”

“I don’t think so, Bokuto-san.”

“I totally decked him in the face!”

Akaashi blinks. “You did?” 

“Well yeah. He was trying to insult her ‘cause she wasn’t letting him buy her a drink. He got all grabby, too.”

“Sounds like an asshole.” 

“He was!” Bokuto huffed. “Anyway, no one insult my sisters. No one! And no one better call a girl a bitch in front of me, either. I’ll fucking clobber them!”

“I didn’t take you for being such a violent person, Bokuto-san.”

Bokuto shifts in place suddenly, looking up at Keiji with a panicked expression. “I’m not! Really, I’m not! I just hate it when people say those things. Even though they make no sense. Like I said, dogs are cool! So, I’m not a mean person, I just…”

“Love, calm down.” Akaashi places his hand on his boyfriend’s chest. “I was kidding.”

“Oh,” Bokuto relaxes immediately. “Okay. Good.”

Akaashi smiles. He uses his other hand to card his fingers through Bokuto’s hair. The man hums at the touch. “You’re a good man, Bokuto-san. And sometimes violence is justified. I probably would’ve punched that guy too, honestly.”

“Really?!”

“Mhm.”

Bokuto’s eyes are wide. He looks a Akaashi carefully, his gaze wandering across his face. Slowly, to Akaashi’s surprise, his ears turn red. “That’s… sort of hot.”

“What?” Akaashi scoffs, incredulous.

“I dunno! Just the thought of you defending someone’s honor like that… snapping, socking an asshole in the face for someone…” he swallows thickly. “It’s…”

“‘Hot,’ yes, I heard you.” Akaashi chuckles nervously.

They fall into silence. Only the sounds of the refrigerator buzzing and a distant passing train can be heard. Leaning back onto the couch, Akaashi continues his ministrations through Bokuto’s locks, his other hand now threading with the other man’s delicately. 

He’s not sure what to think of the conversation they had just had. The past few minutes have been a wild ride.

But this is what life is like as Bokuto Koutarou’s boyfriend, isn’t it? You never know what might spark the man’s interest, what he might want to talk about, or try, or propose. 

He’s an ever-changing enigma, and Akaashi wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Hey, ‘kaashi?”

“… Yes, Bokuto-san?”

“Do you think jellyfish have feelings?”

Akaashi just sighs. 

// I wholeheartedly believe that bkak have the most random conversations. And despite this being about Bokuto’s tendency to start them, I think Akaashi does it, too. Which is why they are soulmates 😆🥰 Thanks for reading! Pls comment/reblog if you enjoyed!

[ruki--mukami]

How would ruki comfort his s/o who's extremely stressed out because of finals? He checks on them once and they are studying, then he leaves for awhile and when he comes back, they are curled up into a ball on the floor, crying about how much a disappointment they are, and then they just get up like as though nothing happened and go back to studying and stuff, you know, just on the edge of a mental breakdown.

(This is self indulgent but idk, I have no other comfort aside from this blog-)

"Oi, come here. I didn't order you to grovel on the floor or to neglect your own health to the point of absurdity. And stop saying those nonsensical, self-derogatory insults about yourself. Insults that couldn't stray further from the truth. You're quite the opposite of what you say you are, in fact. Surely it wouldn't hurt to give yourself more credit from time to time. I've seen it myself. You are sagacious enough to excel in your exams with flying colors. Even so, the literature I've read would suggest that one best absorbs and retains the material when they study in bits and pieces. Cramming the information will have the opposite effect you desire. With that said..."

In the midst of your academic preparations, the Vampire nearly couldn't recognize you in your state of trepidation. With an unamused visage, he careened over to your desk and immediately shut whatever book you had turned open after wedging a bookmark between its pages.

"...It's important to rest and exercise self-care more than anything. Even more than your academics, your career, or any endeavors whatsoever. You should know by now that you can rely on your master for even the most insurmountable obstacles."

Despite any protests, Ruki gathered you in his arms with infinite gentleness and planted a loving kiss on your lips when you least expected it. Large, cold hands held you steady in place to prevent you from recoiling or flailing away from him in utter surprise, encircling both arms around your trembling frame which soon came to a standstill in the wake of his comforting embrace that lingered throughout every fiber of your being. When he withdrew, an unmistakable merriment filled his cobalt blue eyes that bored into yours, foreheads connecting in such an intimate way that the tips of his charcoal hair tickled your brow.

"See, it isn't so difficult now, is it? Look around you. The world hasn't spiraled out of control. You've studied the material arduously, so that can only mean your efforts will soon be rewarded with a more than satisfactory grade. And that won't be your only reward either. Name any food you're craving right now and I will prepare it for you, then you can return to your studies. I won't allow you to sit back down at your desk until we've spent at least half an hour discussing a topic more light-hearted at the dining table as you enjoy a good meal."

Showing you a sincere smile, he threaded fingers with you and led you out of the room, temporarily abandoning the books that once plagued you.

"And don't worry about the chores, either. I have the familiars taking care of that so you can dedicate more hours to not only studying but also a deep sleep that will undoubtedly be conducive to retaining the knowledge necessary to pass your exams. Never forget that you aren't alone in all this, Livestock. Each step of the way I'll be here to support you ⁠— so let's work together as a team. Is that understood?"

[i-am-a-bad-influence-writes]

A distant memory - Loki

Loki Masterlist - Full Masterlist

Summary: Thor finds a letter Loki wrote to a woman called Y/n. He does not know this woman but the language used in the letter is loving and sweet, so Thor decides to ask about her. What he doesn’t know is that this woman has passed.

Pairing: Loki x Fem!Reader

Word count: 2110

My dearest Y/n,

Not a day passes without my mind, body, and soul yearning for your touch and pleasant conversation. Just yesterday I slept on your side of the bed in hopes of smelling traces of your perfume on the pillows. It did not help. Your books still hold your bookmarks on the places where you stopped. I must say, I admire your will to read every book that belongs to you but worry that you might never finish one. Just today, I found five different books that have your bookmarks. Yesterday, I found two. I have put them aside for you to make it easier to finish them. A fair maiden asked me for a dance last week at one of my father’s feasts but I had to refuse. No maiden could ever be as fair as you, even if you do step on my toes while we dance. It gives us more reason to keep practicing. My love for you grows every day and so does my longing. I fear you might be away for longer than I can take and I wonder if you would mind if I came over to see you for a day or two. Just the two of us.

Love,

Loki

‘Brother, who is this letter for?’ ‘What letter?’ Thor holds a letter that looks old and withered. It takes less than a second for Loki to realize what it is. He suddenly looks enraged. ‘Put it down,’ he snaps with venom laced in through his words. The sudden change in demeanor surprises and scares his brother. As careful as he can be, he puts the letter back on Loki’s desk. Loki rushes over and picks up the letter with the utmost care, gently putting it back in a drawer that he locks right away. ‘Who is Y/n?’ Loki sighs and leans against his desk. He looks tired when Thor looks at him again. It’s like a pain has been buried deep within him and has been eating at him for ages. ‘A hundred years or so ago, I went to Midgard to do some business for father. He send me to visit a pagan family that worshiped us to bless them. On the next farm over lived a young woman and when I went to the pagan family, they kept insulting her. I felt I could not justify giving our blessing if this maiden wasn’t the terrible person they said she was,’ Loki explains, ‘so I went over to her house to see for myself.’

Confidently, Loki strides over to the maiden’s house. Her garden is filled with flowers and herbs. From what Loki can tell, there are animals behind the house. This woman is sustaining herself but why? Why would a young maiden live so far removed from the fuss of the city? Especially since the family says she’s not married. Loki knocks on her door and hears fuss inside. It sounds like a dog barking at the door and a big one at that. He watches as a small latch in the door opens and a woman looks outside. He can only see her eyes but the eyes are the gates to the soul and her eyes are beautiful. They sparkle like the gems his mother wears, the reflection of water, or dewdrops on roses. ‘What is your business?’ ‘Forgive me for barging in miss. I have traveled long and far and need a place to rest my head. Would you allow me to sleep in your haystack or shed? Anywhere that’s dry.’ He hears the door unlock and out runs a big, black dog. He looks like he crawled from the debts of hell but his demeanor is friendly when his owner shows kindness. Loki doubts he acts the same if she is in trouble. ‘You make me sound cruel. Please come inside. I’ve got food to spare,’ she tells him with a friendly smile. Her door is wide open but Loki hesitates to step inside. He takes a good look at the maiden. As beautiful as she is, how is she capable of being this friendly. He can not imagine she has not been taken advantage of at least once. ‘You do not know me. Are you certain you want to show me kindness?’ ‘Why would I not? I have Bella to protect me if I need it and if I am frank, you look withered and weak. I doubt you’d be able to lay your hands on me,’ she tells him, ‘come inside. There’s a storm coming.’ Loki steps inside and follows her into the house. She offers him a chair at the table and gets him a plate as well as a drink. If this is a wicked woman, what is the family next door like? They show no kindness. Bella, the big dog, lays itself down under the table by her feet. She seems at ease as the maiden pets her a few times over the head. ‘So tell me, traveler, where are you going?’ ‘You don’t want to know where I’m from?’ ‘I doubt you’d want to talk about it if you’ve been traveling for long,’ she says, offering him a gentle smile, ‘besides, where you’re going tells more about you than where you’ve been.’ ‘I like your ideology miss. May I ask your name before I tell you?’ ‘Will you tell me yours if I tell you mine?’ ‘I fear you may want me out if I tell you.’ She nods, not pushing it any further. Loki feels like she wouldn’t mind who he is as she does not seem like a judgemental person but he wouldn’t want to run the risk. ‘My name is Y/n.’

Early in the morning, Loki awakes on the comfortable couch in Y/n’s living room with more blankets covering him than he went to sleep with. He is awoken by the wet, warm sensation of Bella licking his face. ‘Good morning Bella.’ He pets the dog a few times and gets up from his resting place. He hears Y/n call for Bella, who runs out excitedly. She must be outside, taking care of her animals. He dresses quickly and walks outside to see what she’s up to. He finds her sitting in the field, one of her cows laying beside her resting it’s head on her lap. She calls out commands to Bella to herd her sheep together and back to the pen. After the raging storm last night, she probably wants to see if they’re all alright. Loki walks towards her and sits down next to her in the grass. She nods to him, too busy to greet him. It’s only when all the sheep are in the pen that she fully acknowledges him. ‘Did you sleep well?’ ‘Yes, but the strangest thing happened,’ he tells her with a slight smirk on his lips, ‘I woke with three blankets while I’m sure I had only one when I went to sleep.’ ‘You looked cold.’ ‘You are a very kind host, miss Y/n.’ She smiles and looks out over the field. Bella comes running their way and sits down next to Loki. ‘She has taken a liking to you,’ Y/n notices, ‘she doesn’t like many people.’ ‘I feel honored.’ Loki pets the dog as he looks at Y/n. She looks beautiful in the morning light. Almost as beautiful as she had looked in the candlelight last night. ‘I feel like I have been untrue to you, miss,’ Loki tells her. ‘Why would that be? You are a traveler, are you not?’ ‘I am but not of the kind you know,’ he tells her, ‘you have been a wonderful host and I feel you deserve the truth.’ She chuckles. ‘You speak like this will change everything.’ ‘It might,’ he lets his head hang, ‘my name is Loki, god of mischief. I originally came here to bless the family next door for their devotion to us but they spoke ill of you. I felt I had to be certain you were a bad person if they were to deserve our blessing.’ ‘And what might your conclusion be, Loki god of Mischief?’ ‘They should deserve our blessing for their faithfulness and devotion to us but not for their treatment of others.’ She smiles. ‘I see.’ ‘May I ask why they talk of you this way?’ ‘I am an unmarried woman living alone on a farm. If I’m not being called a spinster, I’m being called a witch. It changes with the season. I’m used to it by now.’ She shrugs it off like it’s nothing but Loki feels a pit of rage in his stomach. A woman as lovely as her should be worshiped. He rips a piece of his golden armor off and puts it between his hands, forging a golden bracelet from it. ‘If you’ll allow me, I’d like to protect you,’ he says and shows her the simple, golden band. She looks hesitant and Loki understands. He’s the god of mischief. ‘Forgive my hesitation but I have been fending for myself for what feels like forever. It’s a kind gesture but I do not need it.’ He nods but gently takes her hand and puts it on. ‘Wear it,’ he tells her, ‘I will not protect you but I will watch over you. If you need company, just call out to me.’ She smiles again, putting her hand over his. ‘That is very kind, Loki.’

As summer progressed into fall, Y/n harvested her crops and made sure they’d survive winter. Her harvest wasn’t great but over time she noticed her supplies would not lessen, even if she took something. It would just reappear when she returned. Loki had visited her a few times during summer but when fall got colder, he stayed away. She feared she might’ve read his actions all wrong as she felt her feelings grow towards him. She thought he felt the same. When Winter thawed and the ground got softer, she called out to Loki in hopes to ask him about it. He did not appear and she feared he had forgotten about her. That is until- ‘Did you miss me?’ She couldn’t stop the smile appearing on her face if she tried. It’s like her feet work on their own as she runs over to him and throws her arms around him. ‘It’s so good to see you again. I feared you had forgotten me.’ ‘Forget the fairest maiden I have ever met? I could never,’ he tells her with a smile. His eyes linger on her lips for a second. ‘I stayed away in hopes your feeling would lessen.’ ‘My feelings? How did you know?’ ‘Darling, I am a god.’ ‘That’s fair, I should’ve known,’ she says with a grin, taking his hands, ‘but why?’ ‘I am not the best suitor and a maiden like you surely deserves better.’ ‘I do not want better.’ He frowns and looks down at her darling eyes. They still shine like gems and are filled with love. ‘My darling, I cannot marry you,’ he tells her, ‘I am prince, heir to the throne. They expect me to marry a goddess.’ ‘I understand.’ She smiles but he can tell she feels terrible. Her heart dropped and her smile faltered. It wasn’t hard to tell that his words hurt her. ‘I wish I could. I truly do,’ he promises her. ‘Then, don’t marry me but stay with me until you have to give yourself to another.’ ‘My darling, my mischief seems to have rubbed off on you,’ he speaks proudly, ‘yes. I will stay loyal to you until I must love another.’

‘But the villagers started a witch hunt and as a single, unmarried woman she was the first target,’ Loki tells his brother, ‘I could not protect her. Father would not let me.’ ‘You loved her, didn’t you?’ ‘I did but it’s in the past now. There’s no bringing her back.’ ‘I’m sorry.’ ‘Don’t be. I was young and stupid. I fell in love with someone I couldn’t have.’ Thor nods and takes a deep breath. ‘Believe me or don’t but you deserve love, Loki. I hope you’ll find a woman like her.’ Loki lets out a breathy laugh. ‘There is no woman like her.’ Thor leaves Loki’s room. It takes Loki a second to come back to reality. His hand reaches for the drawer and unlocks it once again, taking out the golden band she had worn. He deserves love, yes, but he has already met the person he was supposed to be with and no one else will ever compare.

[bloodycassian]

LEATHERBOUND PART 2 - Reader x Cassian

The bell at the front didn't ring when he stepped inside. The oddity of it made him stop in his tracks. That, and the pile of books you crouched over.  "What happened?" He gasped, taking in the small shop. There was broken glass inside, but the front window was already replaced. The shards cast a delicate shimmer over the entire inside. The mud caked onto the back wall where your desk sat reeked. "Are you okay?" Concern was painted plainly across his features. Rage roiled inside his gut at the thought of anyone who would do you harm. What if you had been inside when it happened?  He couldnt bare to think of it. Couldn't tempt himself to imagine what he would do to whoever did it. He would have showed them why the Lord of Bloodshed was named as such. His rage ceased when he saw the strain your wings showed as you tried to push one of the stacks of books back up. He rushed to your side and helped you push it up, only a few smaller novels fell out.  You waved him off, trying to ignore the way his concern made you downright giddy. "Some kids... It happens every now and again." You sighed, picking up the runaways from the floor. You were grateful your collection hadn't been damaged. Thankfully the spells had worked and warded against them actually entering the shop.  Cassian stooped to help you pick up the few that had fallen, then you noticed his boots. "Shoes!" You squeaked. He swore under his breath and kicked them off at the front, returning to help you. His muscle was a great help in re organizing. You got the piles straight this time, and without hurting yourself. You also didn't need a ladder to get the stacks all to the same height. "Anything else?" He asked, placing the final pile atop the last row.  "Ahh.." You glanced above the door where the bell no longer was. "If you could find me a new bell... I dont know what happened to the old one." The bell had been in the shop since it was your grandmothers. It did hold sentimental value, but nothing that would kill to be gone. It was on its final days anyway you told yourself.  "Any preference what kind?" He asked, flipping through a novel about Wyverns. He smiled a bit and set it back where it had been. The glass on the floor reflected rainbows all over the small rooms, it painted your skin with them. He tried not to stare at the beauty there. "One that works." You smiled. "I'm going to owe you that gold piece back for helping me."  "Dont worry about it. You can help me in return." You led him to your usual spot at the counter. He leaned against it casually, in a way that made him look at peace in your nook. Your heart squeezed at the thought of him being so at ease in your space. "We're looking for an old tome. Something that you would definitely recognize." He dragged a finger across the tabletop, along a long carved initial of some Illyrian child long ago. You hummed, thinking about the few tomes you'd encountered on your travels before settling in Illyria as a book merchant. "What year?" You asked, hoping to help in some way. Even if it was to steer him a different direction. You wanted to help him find whatever he needed.  "Unknown... it may be made from stone." He said, his voice quieting. You stilled at the words. The oldest stone tomes were the ones that meant no good was coming. The book of breathings had been one of them. You could feel the color drain from your face. He nodded, as if he knew exactly what you were thinking.  "It's important. If you know anything... please let me know." He gave you a grim smile and patted the desk. "And I expect that cake next time I come over too." He tapped the wood counter and gave you a quick goodbye. "If you need anything let me know!" He called halfway out the door.  You wished you could. You wished you did have some way to 'let him know'. you sulked in the back room for the rest of the day.  === "Where's my cake?" "It's been two weeks, I gave it to the shop next door." You scolded, putting the silvers from the last customer into your box. "It was going bad." You reasoned when he pouted at you. "Well was it good at least?" He pulled a blue and brown leather clad book from a shelf, observing it.  "I dont know, I didn't try it." You admitted, stepping back from the wall to see your newest decoration. A nice wooden clock that you had repaired.  He looked at you with an appalled expression.  "Despite you not making good on our deal, I made good on mine. Your bell, as requested." He presented the small bronze bell with a hook to you. You grinned, taking it from him and testing it. He watched your eyes light up at the sound. It wasn't just a bell. It was a chime. It rang out different sounds from each angle it hit. "Cass-" He stopped you, ready for your protests.  "You cant make me return it. I threw the box in the Sidra and they wont take it back without it." He was smug about it. And he didn't feel bad about making you take the gift either. His hope soared when you gave him a glare, but dinged the bell again.  "Well... you need to install it." You nodded to the empty hook above the door. He smiled wildly and got to work. If he was honest with himself, any reason to be around you more was welcome. Even if it was as simple as replacing a bell. Hell if he could read a book to you that'd be a dream for him.  He was addicted. He had to admit it to himself. But he didn't have the willpower to quit you. It was a strange feeling. He normally had resentment ever visiting Illyria, but lately it had been nothing but joy at the prospect seeing you. You went to the back room, weaving around stacks upon stacks of books. There had been more incoming lately, due to a temple in Summer court being destroyed. The books salvageable were sent all over Prythian, and somehow most ended up with you. The bell chimed, loud and musical. It would take a few weeks to get used to it. It filled you with a joy that sparked. "That sounds great!" You called, bringing over a book that you had set aside for him. It was one of the older ones in the collection, and one of the worst smelling. You wanted to show him in part just to see his reaction to the smell. It had been at the bottom of one of the stacks that had gotten knocked over when the window was broken. "The Ancient ones? Are you making an age joke at me?" He gave you a mock glare, but flicked open the book. You closed it sharply, giving him a look he didn't understand.  "If I was it would be an insult to myself as well. It's the only book I could find that even mentioned what you're after." You flicked the small bookmark you had indicated the page with. Your eyes locked on to his, marveling for a second at the deep hazel there. "You should look at it, later." Your eyes darted behind him where someone approached your door. Your heart dropped. Behind the woman stood a group of Illyrians across the way, pointing at the shop and making large gestures. "I'll be seeing you." You dismissed Cassian, holding open the door for the familiar old woman with shriveled wings. She gave him a nod and kicked her small slippers off with ease. The males across the way turned back into their own conversation when Cassian appeared at the doorway. His eyebrows knit together at your rushing him, but he saw himself out. The bell dinged behind him when he left. The coldness of the wind did nothing to ease the worry he felt for your reaction. Did you not want to be seen with him? Was he supposed to be keeping your meetings a secret? He glanced back to the large storefront window, where you showed the female a section of novels on the far wall. You didn't glance back.  The market bustled with life, several vendors calling out deals and different items they offered. A group of loud males spat at the snow slicked ground as he passed. He ignored the rumble of rage in his stomach, continuing on to the edge of a cliffpoint off the back of a shop.  He took off with a yearning deep inside the pit of his stomach.

[thewritinggrindstone]

Identifying Harmful Repetition in Your Writing

Something I’ve encountered ad nauseam over the last few projects I’ve edited is a relentless repetition of words, phrases, and ideas. One of the most frustrating and confidence-destroying issues a reader can encounter is poorly executed repetition, which can stem from different problems, including:

Too much reliance on your natural stock phrases.

Limited vocabulary.

Not proofreading close enough or editing thoroughly enough.

Lack of confidence.

Not writing with the reader in mind.

I want to preface this with the fact that obviously certain types of repetition aren’t bad. Repetition is an incredibly powerful tool when used effectively, and what’s effective is subjective per book and per reader. That’s a massive topic for another time. This post is specifically about egregious uses of repetition, the types that any good editor or beta reader will point out as in need of fixing.

Stock Phrases and Words

Every person has their own unique lexicon, a repository of words and phrases they naturally will draw upon when they speak, write, and even think. There’s a reason clichés are prevalent, and that’s because the brain likes the path of least resistance. It’s easy to mentally grab those words and phrases that are constantly in arm’s reach, those words and phrases that are comfortable and familiar, but constantly doing this while writing and then not changing them can result in overuse that is noticeable on both stylistic and technical levels. It can also lead a reader to the understanding that you haven’t thought critically about what you’re writing, which can and will undermine their confidence in you.

If you’re writing a first draft, don’t worry about this too much. You probably just need to focus on putting words down, not exactly what those words are. Repetition is an issue that can and should be intentionally fixed during the revision process.

If this is a problem that bugs you even when you’re drafting, there are different ways of dealing with it. I tend to be highly aware of most repetition within my work, and because I constantly edit as I write, backtracking to add/move information as I go doesn’t tend to interrupt my workflow too much. If I know I’ve already used a word and can’t think of something better after several seconds’ thought, I’ll use the repetition and immediately flag it somehow—usually with a “repeat” comment—so I can deal with it once I’ve completed the draft. Opening a thesaurus or dictionary tends to be more disruptive during drafting than it’s worth, but sometimes it isn’t, and you will need to determine what works best for you according to your own style.

Once you’re ready to target the issue of repetition, you will need to work hard, think hard. Don’t settle for the easy word, the stock phrase, the cliché. Discard the timeworn, the tired, the used-before. Play with language—try to come up with new phrases, unique descriptions. Get silly, flip rocks over, dig around under them, push things as far as you need to create something different, then go back and edit again, refining what you’ve written until you’re satisfied.

It’s going to be a process. It’s going to be difficult. It won’t be natural at first; you’ll need to form new pathways in your brain, just like when you learn any new skill, and that’s uncomfortable, but if you persist, your writing will be fresh and alive and won’t be as prone to being bogged down by reader-infuriating repetition.

Limited Vocabulary

Tying into the idea of your personal lexicon is the size of it. No matter how much you pay attention to precisely what words or phrases you’re using, you won’t have much in the way of options if you don’t have at least a good-sized repertoire to draw from.

Increasing your lexicon is something that just takes dedication and time. You can’t rush it, you can’t force it, but you can be deliberate in growing it. Read broadly, maybe bookmark or sign up for your favorite dictionary’s word of the day, or keep a word cache of interesting words or phrases you like.* I have a document titled “word hoard” in Dropbox where I keep all unusual, unfamiliar, or beautiful words I encounter as well as their function(s) and definitions. Most of these words haven’t properly entered my own lexicon yet, but actively being aware of words that are anywhere from slightly to completely outside what you usually use will help you become a more mindful writer.

* I got this idea from Barbara Baig’s Spellbinding Sentences, which is one of my favorite books I’ve ever read on writing.

Lack of Proofreading/Editing

The identification and elimination of repetition hovers somewhere between content editing and technical editing. It’s an easy problem to skim over, especially when you’re the writer because you’re likely too familiar with every word you’ve put down, and issues like this tend to fade into the background. This is particularly true of writers who have reworded or reorganized a given piece of writing, since repetition can easily become lost in the jumble.

If possible, set your project aside for at least a few days—preferably a few weeks or even longer—then come back to it and read it with fresh eyes while intentionally noting and commenting on or highlighting all uses of repetition, big and small. If you aren’t sure if it’s something you repeated, flag it anyway—you can always check later.

If you don’t have time to set the project aside for a while, read your work aloud. If you can’t bear reading your work aloud or you aren’t able due to circumstances, listen to the document instead. Word has a read aloud function, and there are many online text-to-speech websites where you can paste a piece of writing. The unnatural cadence of the artificial voice might be weird and awkward at first, but listening won’t fully engage the “reading” portion of your brain, and you’ll likely find it easier to notice uses of repetition, among other problems. While writing this post, I have listened through it three times, tweaking phrasing and eliminating repetition—and deleting some of the harsher statements—as I go.

If you’re feeling really brave, have another person read your writing back at you. Nothing like being uncomfortably hyperaware of every word you’ve put down to recognize pretty much every single problem within your work. Just do not overcompensate and decide that nothing you’ve written has any value at all (it does), or that you’ll need to change everything (you don’t). If you approach this method with the understanding that it’s going to be awkward but are nevertheless determined to get something useful out of it, you’ll benefit, especially if your reading partner is willing to help you with any areas you feel you need assistance in.

When editing for repetition, if possible, pay attention not only to noun/verb/adjective usage. Go deeper. What types of repetition are you prone to using? Do you begin a significant portion of your sentences with conjunctions? Are there certain conjunctions you use more frequently than others? Do you reiterate entire sentences two or more times with only slight variations in wording? Do you return to the same idea numerous times? What about tone, do you use lots of rhetorical questions? Sarcasm? Self-deprecation? Self-boasting? Do you frequently return to the same imagery or settings or use of metaphor? Or grammar—are there certain punctuation marks or grammatical conventions you use more than others? Do you have a sentence construction you consistently fall back on?

Again, some of these questions might require an outside opinion for you to find suitable answers, but becoming self-aware of not just what you do but why you do will help you recognize these patterns, which in turn can help you mentally eliminate repetition before it even makes it past your fingertips.

Lack of Confidence

Widespread repetition of sentences and ideas is often a major symptom of a writer who isn’t confident in their abilities to communicate what they’re talking about. “If I just tell you this fact again, surely you’ll believe me this time. I’ll make you believe me. Do you believe me now? What about now? Now? Now?”

The painful truth is... no.

Encountering mindless or fear-based repetition is extremely frustrating for readers. Inevitably, without fail, every single time I edit a book by a writer who has repeated themselves over and over and over again, with every single repetition, I increasingly doubt both their credibility and their ability to pass on important knowledge to me. I feel either patronized and insulted, or I feel annoyed because it seems like the author threw their thoughts down on paper in whatever order they came out and then hit publish with

no regard for how those thoughts will be perceived by others, and

no regard for how they are wasting the reader’s time.

Please, please do not undermine your credibility by repeating yourself. Readers usually only need to read information one time for them to absorb it, maybe twice, so trust your readers. If the reader needs to come back to information, they have that ability. Do not force unnecessary repetition in their faces. Always assume readers are at least as smart as you. If you don’t need the information repeated, give your readers the same respect.

Increasing your writing confidence will once again take time and effort. You’ll need to determine why you’re not confident and then seek out methods of correcting the issue(s). In general, fear of not being heard or understood tends to be the underlying cause of repetition, so learn how to be deliberate in your writing. Say what you mean to say. Say exactly what you mean to say. Understand that you have something important to share with the world, so share it—then stop. Readers will appreciate you for not wasting their time.

 Writing for Yourself

Yesterday I finished editing a project just over 88,000 words. Nineteen chapters. Almost 250 pages.

I hated every word, and I learned nothing.

If it had been a line edit, I could’ve cut the book’s word count down below 50K merely by eliminating all of the repetition. This author is infatuated with the sound of their own voice, talked on and on and on merely to hear their own self-revelations and how special they are compared to everyone else stated again and again in near-identical sentences.

I’m editing another book right now that is less self-important and is far more interesting on the whole (and is thankfully over a hundred pages shorter), but again, the author has repeated themselves sometimes three or four or five times, with some phrases appearing over fifteen times, and I can feel my resentment growing. If an author isn’t going to take the time to put forth a thoughtfully crafted piece of writing, why should a reader likewise invest in it?

There is absolutely nothing wrong with writing for yourself. You should—you’ll learn a lot about yourself as both person and writer, and you’ll enjoy writing more, and you’ll (hopefully) be able to refine your skills.

But if—if—you intend to share your writing with the world, if you actually have something to say, you need to be aware that you have a duty to make yourself understood without wasting people’s time. Do not make people regret having picked up your writing by being so in love with the sound of your own voice that you are no longer courteous to others.

Love your writing. Love it fiercely and passionately and with reckless abandon, but reach a place where you know how your writing is going to be perceived at large. Use as many words as you need to get your point across and no more.

In Closing

If you’re still having difficulty identifying repetition within your own work, ask someone who is skilled at recognizing this issue to look over your writing. It’s always easier to recognize repetition when you haven’t written it, so fresh eyes can give you the insight you might not be able to see yourself.

Know your audience. A children’s book will require a different level of repetition than an instruction manual or a sci-fi novel or an autobiography. If you’re reading a recipe, you’d be annoyed and confused if the author told you to add the same ingredient twice due to shoddy proofreading. Write and repeat accordingly.

Whatever you’re writing, make a point of intentionally performing at least one round of editing with the intention of eliminating unnecessary repetition. Your readers will appreciate it more than you’ll ever know.

[crowtrinkets]

Wooden Brush

ty @alexaplaysgames for giving me this prompt idea 😏 Gender neutral MC, as always

Word Count: 1,824

MC goes to return a book to Felix but ends up doing more than just that.

---

I trudged the hallways of Fathom allowing a rather large yawn to catch me by surprise. I finally finished one book given to me by Felix. A history book nonetheless, it was interesting but about as dry as any Earth history book. The moon wasn’t too high in the sky so I figured Felix was awake and I could return his book. Oh, who am I kidding of course he's awake. I finally find the door to his office and softly knock.

“Felix? Can I come in?” No answer. I take that as a yes and gently push on the door, wincing when the hinges squeak. I look around the darkened study, barely illuminated by a few candles. No Felix. Not at his desk, not at the kitchenette. The only spot left is the couch. I approach the soundless mound on top and find it to be Felix, fast asleep, with Stella resting on his stomach. She must have hopped up after he fell asleep. I stand behind the couch leaning forward so I can pet behind Stella's ears, earning a trill from her.

“Stella, I don’t think Felix wants you sleeping on him,” I whisper. Felix stirs, moving to lay on his side causing Stella to jump off and find a better sleep spot. I round the couch placing the book on the desk and approach Felix. Crouching down so I'm at his eye level. I examine his face before waking him. His soft features are barely illuminated by candlelight, the warm yellow dancing on his face, contrasted by the cool moonlight poking through the window. His usually furrowed brows are still and relaxed, and his signature smug smile is nowhere to be seen. Replaced by a slightly opened mouth, drooling on his sleeve. Oh if I had a camera I would take so many pictures. But all I can do is stare and capture this moment to memory. I decide I’ve looked long enough. I place a hand on his shoulder and slightly shake him.

“Felix… Felix, wake up. Don’t you think you should be sleeping on in your bed?” He grunts a response and turns to face the other way, wrapping an arm around his face, attempting to continue his slumber. I huff in response and move to the other side of the couch. Leaning on the back so I can try to look Felix in the face.

“Felix! This cant be comfortable you may be short but this couch isn't that big,” He mumbles into his arm making it hard to understand what he's saying. “What?” This time he removes his arm, and looks up at me, eyes half-closed.

“I am perfectly comfortable where I lie, there is no need for insults,” he grimaces at me. I chuckle a little.

“You’re comfortable on the same couch as your skin book? Stella's favorite spot?” I question.

“Fair enough,” he remarks, sitting up. He attempts to run a hand through his hair but stops and winces. “Ah! My hair is a mess, Stella must have been trying to groom me again,” He looks around the room for her. I turn and spot her sitting in a loaf position on a chair. I give her a wink letting her know that I won't give away her position. I reach over and run a hand through his hair, but then my hand catches in a knot to which he winces.

“Sorry!”

“I have a comb somewhere around here, would you mind finding it for me? I’m afraid my eyes haven’t adjusted from being roused from my peaceful sleep,” Oh man he’s grumpy when he’s just woken up, I’ll humor him though I am the one that woke him. I scan the study, looking for anything that might resemble a comb or brush. I open various cabinets and draws. Only to find it being used as a bookmark in one of the many tomes piled in a stack. I turn the object in my hand, it’s wooden and has intricate carvings of flowers on the handle.

“Found it!” Felix is now standing, attempting to tidy his mess of books, but his idea of cleaning is just stacking them in a pile. I approach Felix and observe his absolutely destroyed hair. His hair is always a little messy. Maybe more like messy cute, but it’s especially bad at this moment.

“Can I brush your hair?” It comes out before I think about it. He whips around to gawk at me, cheeks flushed pink. "I-I'm sorry I didn't"

"Ok," Is all he manages to say.

"…Ok," is all I can manage to respond with. I walk over to the couch and sit, making space between my legs. "It would be easier if you sat on the floor," I say. All he can do is nod and move to place himself between my knees. My hands start to tremble. Is this actually happening? I take the comb and start at the bottom of Felix’s hair, untangling the knots as I go. The quiet sound of the wooden brush running through Felix’s soft hair acts as a metronome. Repetitive and almost hypnotic. I can feel his shoulders relax as either of my knees bump them while I work through his hair. I get caught on a knot which earns a pained groan from Felix.

“Sorry! You um, you have quite a lot of hair,” I attempt to make conversation.

“Well yes, I have not had the time to visit a hairdresser,” he deadpans.

“R-right,” I continue to brush through his hair, hands still shaking as my face warms with a blush. “Have you ever had your hair braided?” Felix cranes his neck to look up at me.

“You want to braid my hair?” He says, utter confusion twisting his features.

“Well, it might be fun,” I say. He gives me a nod and turns around.

“I don’t know if I would call it fun, but… it may be interesting,” I take that as a yes. I run the comb through his hair once again and set it aside. I run my fingers over his scalp from front to back, bringing his hair back so I can braid it. I can't tell if I imagined it but I think I can feel his body shiver as I do so. I run my index fingers from his temples and back, bringing his hair where I want it.

“You uh, don’t have as much hair as Sage so it might be a little tight,” I say leaning forward towards his right ear.

“N-no matter,” his voice hitches slightly. I can't tell who is more flustered at this point, but it is a bit of fun teasing him. I begin to section his hair accordingly, leaving his bangs out. I start to French braid his hair, being careful not to pull on it. His hair is soft in my fingers, almost too silky to keep a hold on, catching whiffs of morning dew and tea as I braid his locks together. I lean to the side slightly as I work, hoping to catch a glimpse of Felix’s face. I can see a tinge of pink in his ears that spread to his cheeks, his eyes closed, and brows relaxed. Is he enjoying this? I hope he is. He opens one eye to look at me, to which I sit up turning my attention back on his hair. Once I finish braiding down, I grab the trusty hair tie, that always sits on my wrist, and I tie off the end. Securing his braid. I clap my hands on his shoulders.

“All done!” Felix yelps slightly. He stands, stretching his legs after sitting on the floor. “Oh wait, actually sit here I need to fix your bangs,” I pat the spot of the couch next to me and Felix sits without protest or comment. I run my fingers through his bangs, adjusting them so they sit properly on his face. Framing it nicely. I find a stray strand and groan, I must have missed it. I take it and tuck it behind his ear with slow movements. I then spot Felix, staring at me intently. I keep my hand hovering by his ear, too scared to move. Up close I can see just how stormy his eyes are, they look like they carry the weight of a thousand burdens, his cheeks are flushed pink, and his mouth slightly agape. I then rest my hand on his cheek. His eyes flick down to my lips for a split second. I don’t even realize that I'm moving. Moving ever so closer to Felix’s perfectly, adorably flushed face. His half-lidded eyes drawing me in like some sort of spell.

“Felix,” I whisper, mere inches from his lips touching mine, and then-

*BOOM*

“Hey Felix have you seen-“ I jump away from Felix so fast, I'm surprised I didn’t open a wormhole that sent me back to Earth. Felix also lept back, but miscalculated and landed on the floor with an oof. I turn to see Sage, standing in the doorway. I try to cover my blush with my hand, hoping it’s too dark for Sage to see. Felix stands quickly, straightening his clothes, and clears his throat.

“Sage! Have you ever thought to knock for once in your life?” Felix’s voice waves slightly high as he scolds Sage. Avoiding eye contact with either of us.

“Oh my, was I interrupting something?” Sage leans on the doorway. Eyes shifting between us both, a shit-eating grin growing on his lips.

“I-I was returning Felix’s book,” I lean over and pick up a random book, lifting it in the air hoping a prop makes my story more convincing. I mean it was the truth. Was.

“U-Uhm, yes, MC came to return my book, yes, thank you, I will give you a new one tomorrow if you'd like,” Felix says to me, still avoiding my eyes. I nod in response. Standing from the couch handing his book back.

“Well, why is your hair braided? Trying to go for the sexy dangerous look I got going?” Sage says, raising his eyebrows suggestively. “Cause they don’t seem to be into it, trust me I tried,” Sage points to me as he speaks. I can feel the embarrassment bottle up inside me, threatening to explode.

“Goodnight!” I shout. I then stormed out of the room, trying to escape my embarrassment. Did that just happen?

The next morning Felix and I don’t bring up the, ahem, events from the previous night. However, he still wears the braid I did for him when I see him. He offers to return my hair tie but I tell him he can keep it, I have plenty. But really, I think the French braid is a good look for him, and I want him to keep it on longer. I should return his books late at night more often.

[dreamyjoons]

heartbreak trials // jjk

⇢ it all started with a bet: the one with the highest body count would get the most illustrious prize - Namjoon’s bedroom. For you and Jungkook, the race was on.

Genre/warnings: angst, smut! roommate!au, sex talks, best friend & fwb!Jimin, very background Namjin, swearing, alcohol use & drunkenness, creepy/pushy guy at a bar, oral (m & f recieving), fingering, unprotected sex, a creampie thing (lmao sorry), overstimulation, snarking constantly I can’t stop it

Words: 13.8k

A/N: In celebration for Jungkook’s birthday, enjoy this baby. I hope you all like it. Thank you to the incredible underthejinfluence for the support, suggestions and letting me complain regularly lmao.

“I swear, one of these days I'm gonna kill him.”

You throw yourself over the arm of the couch, letting your head flop on Namjoon’s knee. You sigh and pout up at him, waiting for him to pay you attention.

He casually ignores you, thumbing through the book in his hand. Another louder sigh passes your lips. Namjoon rolls his eyes, hastily dropping the bookmark in his hand between the pages. Once the closed book sits neatly in his lap, he turns his unimpressed gaze on you.

“What’s he done now?”

“He brought someone else home last night. Which is fine” -noting Namjoon’s raised eyebrow- “but Jungkook always seems to pick the loud ones.”

“I see. But do you not think he’s getting back at you?”

You sit bolt upright and spin, fully focused on Namjoon. Sure, you and Jungkook had some weird… thing going on when it came to having hookups in the house. Sometimes it felt a little premeditated. But you didn’t hate each other enough to have that kind of rivalry. Not that you thought so, anyway.

“For what?”

“When you brought home that guy from work who yelled the whole time you both fu-”

“Yes, your point?” You rush, ignoring the heat creeping across your face.

“Kook had an exam the next day.” Namjoon shrugged, his fingers idly teasing the edge of his book.

“That? That was last year Joonie! he’s graduated already!” You yelp, throwing up your arms for good measure.

“Yeah, but you never apologised.” You splutter at his quiet words, a Jungkook-shaped rage beginning to simmer inside you.

“Did he apologise when that devil ex of his put her thong in my bedroom? Or when that other crazy bitch tried to punch a hole through our connected wall-“

“Oh Sana? I thought you’d like her.” Jungkook smirks, strolling into the living area.

You jolt as he swaggers into the room, messy hair falling into his eyes. Wearing yet another all black ensemble, he casually strides to the sofa and sits himself between you and Namjoon, shimmying in the spot for good measure.

“What do you think?” You snap, scooting as far away from the demon as possible.

“Oh, I'm not interrupting, am I?” He smirks at you, brown eyes glittering with mischief.

“Always-“

“You’re fine, Jungkook. Actually I’ve been meaning to talk to you both.” Namjoon says gently, leaning forward to place his book on the table before turning to face you both. You and Jungkook both forcibly break your tense glare at each other to turn to Namjoon.

“I finally have a date for when I move in with Seokjin.” He smiles, his little dimple flashing on his face.

“Congrats, man!” Jungkook grins, slapping a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder.

“That’s amazing, Joonie. I bet you’re both so excited.” You smile, warmth spreading through you. It had been a long time coming - two bean poles who annoy each other constantly but found each other made your heart swell.

“We can’t wait, but that leads me to something about here. Obviously this was originally my flat, so I’m gonna pass it to you both. But it’s listed under my master bedroom.” He stops, taking a second to collect his thoughts. “So you both need to decide between you who’s going to have my room.”

An uneasy glance passes between you and Jungkook, a chill descends upon the room.

Namjoon’s room was not only nearly the size of yours and Jungkook’s room combined, but it also had an ensuite bathroom. It was prime real estate, and there was no way you were going to pass that up.

“I’ll have it-”

“Me!”

You both shout before another deadly glare passes between you. His eyebrows knit as he stares at you, but you’re not intimidated. You never are by Jungkook. He was a bunny! And apparently he banged like one-

“No way Jungkook, I deserve it! I’ve had to listen to you one-stroke wonder for nearly two years now-“

“Not a chance, Y/N! If I have to listen to you fake another orgasm I swear-”

“Fake? Fake?!” You splutter, heat surging to your face as you gawp at the floppy-haired idiot.

“Oh please, I’ve had to listen to you enough to know when you’re putting it on, which sounds like it happens regularly.” He shrugs, flicking his hair out of his eyes before smirking over at you.

“What makes you an orgasm expert?” You scoff.

“Oh baby, I know how to give an orgasm or three.”

You splutter and try to play it off as a cough, but Jungkook grins triumphantly. Namjoon loudly clears his throat, shuffling to the edge of the couch to give you both a meaningful stare.

“I’ll be out of here by the end of next week, but the contract will be changed in just under a month.” Namjoon gets to his feet, tucking his book under his arm. “You both have until then to decide.”

You stare at each other, sizing the other one up.

“I don’t care who takes the room as long as nothing gets broken in the inevitable fight you both are gonna have. Now, goodnight.” He smiles, before ducking out of the room. You and Jungkook both sit in silence until you hear his door shut.

You’d known each other for a year or two - you’d moved in with Namjoon after graduating after seeing an ad for a room. Jungkook had moved in three months after, having needed a place for his final year of college. That had been almost a year ago, and things were a lot different.

It wasn’t that you didn’t get on - you did. Most of the time. But there had been this strange atmosphere between you which had resulted in a weird competition; namely who can have the most sexual partners. Or in Jungkook’s case, the loudest.

“Obviously we both want the room.” He states, and you force yourself not to roll your eyes so hard your retinas detach.

“Yeah.”

“So how about we come up with a fair way to battle it out?” He asks, his full attention on you.

“Like what?” You ask, but he merely shrugs, hiding behind his hair slightly.

“I dunno. But we need a fair competition, because neither of us are gonna with over an argument.”

“I mean, I probably would-”

“No. Let's do this somewhat fairly.” He asserts, raising an eyebrow at you. You huff, but finally nod.

“Fine, but I can veto it if it’s a stupid idea.” You counter, holding out a hand.

He reaches out and takes your hand in his, gripping it as you shake hands, finalizing your agreement. You both break apart, sinking into separate ends of the couch.

“It’s gonna be weird without Joon being here.” Jungkook says quietly, and you nod at his words.

“Who’s gonna burn all our food and break up our fights now?” You smile, a genuine ache seeping its way into your chest.

Jungkook lets out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair as he looks around the room. So much of Namjoon’s personality was in that place. The book titles with too many words strewn about the pace, the huge, earthy blankets laid over nearly every surface. The one bonsai he trusts you and Jungkook not to kill sitting proudly in the window. It was cosy, and completely Namjoon.

A silence settles over you, the air palpably thick.

You drag your eyes back to Jungkook, and find his eyes on you. They’re gentle but probing, like he’s trying to read your deepest thoughts. You nervously drag your lip between your teeth, heat flashes across your face as his eyes follow the motion.

And there it was. The deep ache in your stomach whenever you’re alone together, or when he creeps into your thoughts every day. You could never dwell on it, because you and Jungkook in any other context but roommates wasn’t something you could see. The risk of a broken heart is something you couldn’t handle, so you avoided it at all costs.

You push yourself to your feet, needing fresher air to fill your lungs. His bright eyes widen at your movements, following your every move.

You stare back at him, hair pushed back out of his face, mouth parted as he watches you, hands resting on his muscled thighs.

“Got work tomorrow, gonna get an early night rightokaybye-” you rush, darting around the couch and heading to your bedroom.

You shut the door and lean against it, tipping your head back against the wood. You take a deep breath and slip into autopilot, changing and climbing into bed, trying to clear your mind of Jungkook and his smile. And those thighs.

— —

Staggering through the front door, you kick your shoes off and slam your keys onto the little key rack Namjoon excitedly hung a month ago. You push the thought aside, not wanting to deal with the sadness of Joon moving out today.

Dragging your feet, you moan as you stumble into the kitchen and throw yourself on one of the island chairs, slumping into the counter.

“Fucking managers… ‘we need you to file these before you clock out’... yeah well file my fist into your face, asshats…” you mumble into the counter, the cool granite seeping into your forehead.

“Rough day?” A tinkling voice greets you, and you lift your heavy head to stare at Jungkook, half in the fridge with a banana milk in his hand, wiping some escaped liquid around his mouth with the back of his sleeve.

“... have you been there the whole time?”

“Yeah. Work sucked, then?” He asks, closing the fridge and leaning on the counter, head in his hands as he looked at you. You blink stupidly at him, his big eyes sucking you in.

“Uh… yeah. Yeah, it was crappy.” You rush, before slamming your head back down on the counter, letting the cool seep into your burning face.

This is why you prefered arguing with Jungkook. Fighting him was easy. Because when you’re not being snarky and insulting each other, he has the stars in his eyes when he talks to you and you become a stuttering mess.

“You need to blow off some steam.” You can hear the smile in his voice, and you pick your head up to look at him.

“Yeah, by taking the bubbliest bath ever and sleeping until next January.”

“Nope, you know what I mean.” He winks, and you roll your eyes at him.

“Thanks, but no. I’m not in the mood.”

“Awh, don’t think you could get it?”

“Please. I can pull way more people than you, Jungkook.”

“I doubt that, Y/N. I mean, look at me.” He gestures to himself, and you focus on keeping your eyes fixed firmly in his face. You weren’t going to follow those gorgeous hands-

“Whatever. Keep dreaming.”

“Wanna bet on it?”

“Bet?”

“Yeah, say, one the one with the highest body count gets Namjoon’s bedroom?”

“I dunno Jungkook, that sounds like a lot of work. And shaving.”

“You haven’t got to shave. Or are you just looking for an excuse?” He smirks at you, eyebrows wagging.

“... how long would it have to be for?”

“Until we have to sign the contract for the room, right? Namjoon said less than a month, so let’s say… three weeks.”

You flick your eyes over him, weighing him up.

It would be a lie if you weren’t tempted. Both you and Jungkook had a … colourful sexual history, which seems especially ramped up with your unspoken competition over the last year. There was a chance you could win, but no one could resist Jungkook - you often wonder how you’ve lasted so long.

But then again, Namjoon’s room did have a shower with amazing water pressure.

“You’re on.” You grin, holding out your hands.

Jungkook reaches across the counter and takes your hand in his, shaking excitedly. He pulls back over the counter and gives you a bunny smile, eyes practically sparkling.

“Don’t we need some rules or something?” You ask, and his smile drops as he groans.

“No? It’s sex, there’s no rules.”

“Oh come on, stuff like using dating apps, and, I dunno, lying about our number.” You frown, waiting for his reaction.

“Why would I lie?” He asks, genuine concern crossing his face. A twinge of guilt settles in you, and you have to admit: Jungkook may be a lot of things, but he’s never been a liar.

“Fine, fine, I know you won’t. But we need to talk some things through.”

A fierce discussion and a lot of colourful words later, you both agree to some tentative terms for your competition.

“Okay, so. One, no dating or hook-up apps, we have to do this the old fashioned way. Two, we can’t interfere with each other when we’re trying to get laid-“

“Ugh, can you not say it like that?” You groan, sinking back into your chair.

“Okay - when we’re trying to bump uglies-“

“No-“

“Three, we can sleep with the same people, but more than once doesn’t count. Failing to do any of this will mean we forfeit.”

“Right. And once we’re done we note it down on…” you pause, getting to your feet and walk to the fridge.

You take off the magnetic white board and scrub it clean. You draw a line down the middle, and put your and Jungkook’s name on either side of the line.

“Namjoon’s gonna be pissed that you got rid of his cleaning rota.”

“Shut up. We tally it here.” You tap the board for emphasis.

“Done. So are we starting now?” He asks, but you shake your head. It wasn’t enough that work had worn you out, but now the exhaustion from the conversation and the task ahead of you was threatening to totally wipe you out.

“Nope, too tired. You’re not gonna have an advantage over me like that Jungkook. Tomorrow.” You assert, getting to your feet.

He stares at you for a moment, assessing. A soft look passes his face - a glimmer of something. But it vanishes instantly.

“We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.” He says gently, his eyes fixed on you.

“I want to, Kook. I’m gonna win that bedroom and sing in my shower all the time. I’ve got this.” You grin. He watches you for a moment before his demeanour changes, slipping back to the bubbly Jungkook you’re so used to and grinning at you.

“Keep dreaming, Y/N.” He smiles, before picking up what’s left of his banana milk and chugging it. You roll your eyes and walk away, your bed calling your name.

“Good luck getting someone to sleep with you when you have banana breath. Night Jungkook.” You call over your shoulder.

“Goodnight, Y/N.”

You walk through your door and shut it behind you, finally letting yourself sag on your bed. You stare at the ceiling, the bet ticking through your brain.

It was probably dumb, but competition with Jungkook was always interesting, and it had been a while since you’d had some action. At least you could find someone to distract you, and get a nice bedroom out of it.

You wearily get to your feet, changing out of your work clothes and into pajamas. Then, after a second’s thought, you tidy your room just a little. If you’re gonna have company, you may as well be presentable.

Finally you drop into your bed, bone weary but mildly excited. Time to get up on the saddle, and show Jungkook who’s the real cowboy.

— —

Your blissful sleep is interrupted by a dull thudding, one that seemed to get louder and louder. You vaguely register it coming from the wall you share with Jungkook, but you were desperately trying to cling to the remaining tendrils of sleep. A grunt meets your ears, and you realise something wasn’t right. Groggily you open your eyes, the rude awakening souring your mood already.

“Jungkook! Fuck…” you hear a faint whine and you freeze.

You hear a few more thumps until reality hits you. Throwing yourself from your bed, you grab your phone and storm out to the kitchen. Namjoon sits at the kitchen counter, sipping his coffee calmly. Thankfully you couldn’t hear the smut from here, so you sink into the seat next to him, planting your forehead onto his shoulder.

“Take me with you to live with Jin, I beg of you.”

“You started this, Y/N. Never make a bet with Jungkook on anything! The boy will stop at nothing to win.” He sighs, placing his coffee down.

You sit bolt upright and glare at him suspiciously. He blushes a little, but he meets your gaze.

“How do you know about the bet?” You ask, forehead creased.

“I’m very smart, I tend to know things.”

“... Jungkook told you.”

“Yeah Jungkook told me.” He laughs. “He waited for me to get home and told me.”

“Why would he do that?” You frown.

“Oh, uh…” he flusters. “He- he just wanted to give me a heads up.”

“Okay… well whatever, I’m not gonna be beaten.” You mumble, picking up your phone and scroll through your recent messages.

“That doesn’t sound good.” Namjoon says under his breath, but you decidedly ignore him.

You find the number you’re looking for and shoot a quick text before locking your phone. You grin at Namjoon as you stand up, grabbing a glass of water and chugging it.

“Gotta go prep, have fun at wo-”

You're cut off by the door of Jungkook’s room opening, and you and Namjoon spin in unison. Out totters a relatively familiar girl, and you recognise her as one of Jungkook’s usual hookups. He walks her past you both to the door, his hand hovering in the small of her back as he leads her out. You move your gaze to Namjoon who looks between the both of you, frowning.

After a brief murmur, the front door shuts and Jungkook saunters back into the room, a small grin on his face. You flick your eyes up to him and see that he’s only wearing a pair of gym shorts, his hair messy and wild. Perspiration still clung to his bare chest, his hair slightly sticking to his forehead. You swallow hard, forcing your eyes away from him.

“Looks like I’m taking an early lead.” He shrugs, bunny teeth on show as he smiles. Your phone buzzes on the counter and you look over at it, a smirk lighting up your face as you look back to a curious Jungkook.

“Well, I think we'll be even before you’ve even got dressed, so don’t get too cocky.”

A groan cuts off his answer, and you both dart your gaze to Namjoon who has his head tilted back, eyes screwed shut.

“Please just… can you both make sure no one gets hurt if you’re actually going through with this?” He sighs, bringing his head back to glare at you both.

“Get hurt? Who’s gonna get hurt?” You ask, but your gut screams that you know. Deep down where you try to ignore, you know.

Jungkook flusters, settling to stare at Namjoon with wide eyes. Sighing again, Namjoon gets to his feet and dumps his cup into the sink before turning to stare at you both one last time.

“You know what I mean. Now, I’m going to work. Please don’t get your bodily fluids all over my apartment.” He tells you both sternly before walking away.

You and Jungkook look at each other for a moment before you buckle under his gaze, grabbing your phone and heading to the bathroom.

“We’re not gonna get hurt, are we?” Jungkook asks quietly, and you spin to face him.

“No- no, why would we? We’ve got no reason to.” You say awkwardly, fiddling with the hem of your pajama shorts. “As long as neither of us do anything stupid, we’ll be fine.” You finish with a forced smile, ignoring the voice in the back of your mind telling you that this was dangerously stupid already.

“You’re right. Yeah.” He nods, stepping back. He bumps into the stool behind him and flounders before regaining himself, giving you a small salute before he vanishes to his room.

You stare after him for a moment before you shake your head and walk to the shower.

Taking your time to shave and moisturise so that you were feeling yourself, you finally step out, wrap yourself in a towel and head back to your room. A quick check of your phone tells you he’s almost there, so you slip on a top and some shorts - it’s not like you’ll be wearing them long, anyway.

You faintly hear a knock at the door and you speed out to answer it.

Swinging open the door to see Jimin smiling at you, you can’t help but grin back.

“Hey Y/N.” He smiles, his eyes scrunched as he beams at you.

“Hey, thanks for coming so quickly.” You laugh, grabbing his hand and dragging him through the house and towards your bedroom.

“Well, you know I’m always keen to help you beat Jungkook at something.” He laughs as you shut your door behind him.

“That’s why I can always count on you.” You smirk, pressing him back so that he falls onto the bed. You straddle him, hands pressed gently to his chest. “And please, be as loud as possible.”

— —

“I’m gonna go pee. Then we can talk about your battle plan to defeat Jungkook.” Jimin says gently, smiling at you before he gets out of the bed and pulls on his boxers and jeans.

You wave at him and stretch out on the bed, smug at closing the gap already - and you’d only been awake for three hours.

You sit waiting for Jimin, keen to talk to him about the whole bet with Jungkook. But you waited and waited, until finally you got impatient and got up, throwing on a tee and shorts.

You walk out of your room to find Jimin in the kitchen, head thrown back with laughter as he talks to Jungkook. Both were shirtless, but you felt your face heat up when you tried to avoid staring at Jungkook. You approach them, eyebrows drawn together and an uneasy smile on your lips.

“Hey guys…”

“Oh, Y/N! You didn’t say Jimin was coming over.” Jungkook smiles, fixing you with a bubbly giggle as he watches you approach.

You shrug as you walk to the fridge and pick up the pen, putting your first tally on your scoreboard. You spin back to smile at Jungkook, a surge of excitement rushing through you. He swallows as he looks between you and Jimin, his bubbliness dulling a little.

“So, neck and neck, huh? Don’t expect it to last long.” You wink at him, before flicking your eyes to Jimin.

“Wanna go out tomorrow?” You wiggle your eyebrows at him, ignoring Jungkook’s noise of exasperation.

“If you’re going out, I’m coming too!” He yelps.

“No way, not happening! I’m not having you cramp my style.”

“Cramp your style? What are you, sixty?” Jungkook snarks, causing Jimin to stifle a giggle into his hands.

“You’re gonna mess me up! No way.”

“Oh come on, if I do ‘mess you up’ then I’ll void the bet and that’s not gonna happen. So buckle up baby, we’re going out.” Jungkook leans against the counter and crosses his arms across his toned chest, challenging you to try and deny him again.

You look to Jimin and see that he’s set his puppy dog eyes on you. You huff, throwing your hands in the air, and Jungkook grins.

“This is gonna be fun.”

“Whatever nerd, we’ll see who’s gonna be having fun.” You snap, grabbing Jimin by the shoulders and pushing him back to your room before slamming your door shut.

“Chill out Y/N, I’m not gonna take your man.” Jimin giggles, stretching himself out on your bed.

“He’s not my man, you ass.” You hiss, picking his shirt off the floor and launching it at him.

“Well either way, I can’t wait to watch the train wreck happen tomorrow night.”

— —

Night and day passed too quickly.

Namjoon or Jin couldn’t be persuaded to go out with you, citing that they weren’t going to be around ‘childish games of romance’. You elected to ignore what they were trying to say, and simply took your frustrations out by stress texting Jimin all day.

But it couldn’t be held off any longer, and soon you found yourself pressed between sweaty bodies making jerky movements to loud music.

Jungkook had been relatively silent for the whole of your journey, only replying in solemn nods and prolonged staring.

Jimin -who was sick of both of you- ignored the pair of you, practically skipping his way through the club to the bar. He orders a round of shots, passes one to both of you and chucks his down his neck. You blow out your cheeks, forcing yourself to relax.

Jungkook being there wasn’t going to cost you Namjoon’s room. Keeping that in mind, you tip the liquid into your mouth, the burn rippling down your throat as you swallow.

Your eyes flick to Jungkook as he does the same, eyes fluttering shut and lips pulling tight as he forces down the shot.

You forcefully drag your eyes away from a spot of alcohol that escapes his mouth and creeps down his exposed throat, and focus on the crowd.

There were a lot of people in the small club, and your hopes at finding someone were high. Jungkook walks off, mumbling something about the bathroom, and you watch him leave. You turn to look at Jimin, a smile finally slipping onto your face.

“Feeling lucky?” He asks, noting your grin. You shrug your shoulders at him, a twinkle in your eye.

“As long as Jungkook stays out of my way, I’ll be fine.” Your voice is low, and you fiddle with the shot glass in your hand before gently placing it on the bartop.

“Why would he be an issue?” He winks, eyebrow raised.

“He just… gets in my view and I can’t concentrate because his stupid face is in my vision.”

“Sure, and it’s not because you -“

“Shut up, Jimin. I don’t know what you think but you’re wrong.” You snap, eyes narrowing. He simply laughs, holding up his hands in a surrender motion, before his eyes flick over your shoulder.

“Well whatever, I think you’re gonna have company in a minute.” He nods, and you follow his eyes to find a man down the bar looking in your direction.

He’s cute, kinda tall, a little beardy. You give him a shy smile, before turning back to Jimin and winking. He shakes his head, a small giggle passing his lips.

“Give me a signal if you need any help.” He whispers, watching the man walk towards you. You squeeze his arm gently, before turning back to rest on the bar.

After a mere moment, you feel a figure slide next to you, a faint air of expensive cologne filling your senses. You hide your smirk, electing to run a smoothing hand over your hair. The loud music thumps along with your heartbeat, the thrill of the chase lighting your veins on fire.

“Hey.” His deep voice filters in from beside you, and you turn your slightly head to face the man.

“Hi.”

“Would you like a drink?” He asks, bringing his mouth low by your ear.

“Depends if you’re buying or not.” You smirk, meeting his hazel eyes.

“If it means I get your company for the evening, it’s on me.” He tilts his head as he smirks at you, pulling a light laugh from your lips.

“Does that work on all the girls you try it on?”

“I don’t know - will it work on you?” He whispers, his cool breath brushing over the hair by your ear and down your neck.

You lick your lips, letting a hand rest on his arm as you bring you gaze level with his, mere inches away. You were already mentally checking off another mark on the scoreboard, causing a smirk to slip on your face.

Leaning into him and letting your eyes flutter shut, your lips are on the verge of grazing when he’s suddenly ripped out of your space. Your eyes fly open as you search around you, only to find Jungkook pushing the guy through the crowd and out of sight. Shock etches across your face, eyebrows rocketing up as you jaw hangs.

Jungkook stalks back to take the guy’s empty place, fury written across his face as he looks at you. His side is pressed against you in the busy bar but you take a dizzying step back, trying to uncloud your mind. Your stunned stillness fades, replaced by blind rage.

“Jeon Jungkook, what the fuck-“

“I know him, Y/N. He’s a complete asshole.” He fully faces you, bright eyes holding yours in a deadly stare.

“He doesn’t have to be a Nobel Peace Prize winner for me to sleep with him! You’re way out of line!” You shout and he winces at your tone, but he doesn’t falter.

“Trust me, it’s better if he’s not around. I’m trying to help-”

“Are you? It doesn’t look like that from here.” You snap, holding his gaze.

“Believe me, Y/N.” His voice is quiet, and for a moment the storm in your mind clears. But you can’t let him into your head like that, you won’t.

The crowd jostles around you, knocking into you and Jungkook as they try to get to the bar. You’re both pressed together, held in place by unaware figures. But you don’t bend, intent on letting him know how you feel.

His dark eyes examine your face, drawing his lip between his teeth as he lets your words sink under his skin. Your eyes dart about his face, unable to focus. The small freckle that sits just under his mouth, the flare of his nostrils, the way his teeth sink into his lip. It was all him - impossibly Jungkook, and hard to stay angry at. But you wanted to, you needed to.

There’s something electric about him when he looks at you like that. Breathing your air, painted in red and blue lights, surrounded by darkness. It’s heavenly - and too much.

“Stay out of my way, Kook.” Your voice is low, but he hears you loud and clear. With one last withering look, you step away from him and go to find Jimin, his eyes hot against your back.

You deliberate leaving the club completely, Jungkook fully ruining your mood. You can feel him working his way under your skin, and it alarms you that you don’t mind him being there. You shake your head, expelling those thoughts. You’ve got a bet to win, you tell yourself. It shouldn’t be that deep.

Finally, you find Jimin surrounded by a crowd as he dances. They’re cheering over the music, strobe lights illuminating the graceful moves the makes. He laughs as he moves, catching your eyes across the sea of bodies. You smile at him, but his head cocks and he ceases all movement, making a b-line for you. Some of the crowd complain, but he ignores them, stopping before you and placing his hands on your upper arms.

“Are you okay?” He asks, eyebrows creased and plush lips pulled into a thin line.

“Yeah, I’m fi-“

“Do I need to beat that guy up? Where’s Jungkook, we’ll grab him and-“

“No, it’s not the guy that was the problem, it’s Jungkook.” You murmur, eyes shooting away from Jimin.

You find yourself scanning the crowd for him, but not finding him anywhere. You ignore the small pang that hits your chest and instead turning your attention back to Jimin. He has a soft look on his face, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles in your arms.

“So you finally admit it?” He asks softly, barely audible over the music.

“Admit what?”

“... nothing. Come on, let’s get another drink and you can tell me about it.”

With a soft embrace, Jimin steers you to the bar. Pressing through the crowd, you let yourself lean against the wooden bartop, watching but not seeing.

Jimin’s served, and he slides two shots of something clear towards you. You look at him and raise an eyebrow, but he shrugs at you before throwing back his own. You drink one, then two. Wiping your mouth in the back of your hand, you look at him and smile weakly.

“Thanks.”

“So what happened?” He asks, and you take a steadying breath before relaying what went on with Jungkook.

Jimin is silent as you speak, weighing the value of each word. He’s quiet after you’ve finished talking, and you wonder for a minute if he even heard you. But he looks back at you with a sad smile, and suddenly you don’t feel so brave any more.

“You two don’t learn, do you?”  He sighs, shaking his head. Your eyebrows cross as you stare at him, waiting for him to elaborate. But he doesn't, letting the words hang in the air.

And you know. You know what he means, you know how you feel. But thinking any more of Jungkook will never be reciprocated, and ignoring your heart is better than having it broken.

But heartbreak follows you.

You cast your eyes back around the room again. You see someone flick their hair, and you know it’s him, you know it. But moving your eyes around him stops your heart.

Jungkook stands just off the end of the bar, whispering in the ear of a petite brunette. There no playful air about him like there usually was, no thrill of the chase. Determination ripples around him, no sense of ease. In a way, it felt personal.

You blink back a sting in your eyes, turning back to the bar and suck in a deep breath. Jimin looks over his shoulder, spotting what you had been fixated on. He looks back and lays a light hand on your shoulder, but it’s too much.

“Y/N-”

“Excuse me Jimin, I’ve got a bet to win.” You say in a low, dangerous voice, before slipping away from his grip and moving quickly towards the dancefloor.

You let yourself be distracted for a mere moment, letting nothing but music, people and darkness fill your senses. A coldness creeps through your system, your protection. You let your eyes flutter shut, forcing everything but that second away from you.

You’re bumped forwards, and you begin to trip over your feet when a small hand grips your arm and steadies you. You right yourself and turn, only to come face to face with a beautiful, tall blond woman. She looks at you gently, letting her eyes linger on your body.

“Sorry about that.” She smiles, letting her hand linger on your arm.

“Oh, no worries.” You smile at her. She steps away after a prolonged glance, and you bite your lip.

You take a quick look around, eyes immediately darting to where you knew Jungkook was. The girl's hands were pressed to his chest, giggling something excitably in his ear. His expression doesn’t change, but you watch as his hand slides over to her hips.

For once halting moment, his eyes find you in the crowd. It’s fleeting, but you share something that you can’t pin down. He looks pained, guilty.

But he doesn’t push her hands away, and his hand stays rooted to her hips.

You drag your eyes away, your decision for the evening settling in your chest. You briefly make eye contact with Jimin, an unending pity deep in his soulful eyes. You swallow thickly before turning back to the retreating woman, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“Wanna dance?” You ask, fake smile slipping onto your lips.

“I’ve been dancing all night, I was gonna head home.” She smirks, and you school your face, another rejection threatening to slice through you.

“Oh-”

“But I could do with some company.” She winks, threading her fingers through yours.

You smile at her and let her lead you towards the bar exit. You look to Jimin, a sad expression on his features. You offer him a blank stare and a small wave, ignoring the flicker of concern in his face.

With an ache in your chest, you flick your eyes to Jungkook - only to meet his. He watches you get pulled by, examining the woman before looking at you. His mouth is parted, his normally sparkling eyes glazed over. The girl he’s with paws at his face, but he doesn't look away from you.

You’re the one to drag your eyes away, trying to erase how her hands looked over him in your mind.

The girl looks back at you and smiles, and you return it, your heart heavy. But you follow her, out of the bar, into a taxi and into her arms.

— —

The next week and a half was painless - purely through the power of ignorance.

You barely saw Jungkook. You spent an entire day with him at one point - but fortunately Namjoon had too many books and lots of furniture to move, so you were barely in each other's presence for long.

But Namjoon was gone, and the two of you were left to haunt the apartment like lonely spectres in his wake.

It wasn’t a total bust though - you’d managed to take the lead in your bet. You were two ahead of Jungkook with eight. Namjoon’s room was in your grasp, and you had planned to go out with Jimin again tonight.

You quietly eyed the whiteboard - Namjoon left it behind saying it had been ‘tainted’. You pull out a carton of juice and pour yourself a glass, trying to delay going into your room.

You knew Jungkook had someone over. You didn’t want to go to your room and hear them, and you wanted them to walk out and see you much less.

Instead you drain your glass and make a grab for your keys - but you had to go to your room and get them from your bag.

Steeling yourself, you make a break for it. You’re almost at your room when his door swings open, and you’re blindsided, your gut wrenching.

“Jeni?” You splutter.

She turns, dressed only in one of Jungkook’s oversized shirts. Her perfect blond hair fell into her precise bob, beautiful features pulled into a look of confusion and disdain.

She places a perfectly manicured hand on her hip whilst the other pulled Jungkook’s door shut. You glare at Jungkook’s ex, your head beating so hard you thought it would burst from your chest.

“What are you doing here?” You growl, letting malice seep into every word.

“Isn’t it obvious?” A spiteful laugh falls from her lips, eyes sizing you up.

“Come back to break his heart again? Or did you get lost on your way back to the swamp?” You snap. She laughs mirthlessly at you.

“Well, Kookie said you weren’t any different. Glad to see nothing’s changed.” You cringe at her nickname for him - it always sounded so cold and calculated when it came from her lips.

“He said that?” You ask, eyebrows creased.

Why was he talking about you - to the ex who tore his heart to shreds? You could remember nights where you’d stay up until 5AM to distract him from the pain he felt - as if you could absorb it for him. In some way, you did-

“Oh Y/N, dense as ever, and hopelessly in l-”

“Shut up Jeni. I know it uses up a lot of brain cells for you to form words, so you can just stop.”

You brush past her, making sure to knock her as you walk by. She squeaks at the impact, but you don’t feel anything but empty.

“It was good to see you. You’ll be seeing more of me soon enough.” You can hear the smile in her voice but you ignore her, bursting into your room and slamming the door behind you.

Pacing the room, your mind reels and your stomach churns.

Jeni being here had changed things. Jungkook was left shattered by her, why would he bring her back into his life? Even to win a bet, that was dumb.

But her being here was bringing to a head something you hadn’t wanted to admit to yourself - how you truly felt about Jungkook.

Because you realised if she is here, you can’t be. Him sleeping with people was one thing, but a relationship, emotions and love with someone else? That wasn’t something you could watch again - it broke your heart enough the first time around.

Your plans to leave the house abandoned, you sit on your bed and pull out your headphones, placing them tightly in your ear before blasting the first song you could find.

When the roar of your headphones was the only thing to fill your senses, you lay back on your bed and curl on your side, letting the music take you some place that wasn’t here, and that didn’t hurt.

Only an hour or so later, you were rudely woken by someone shaking your shoulders.

Groggily you snapped the earbuds out of your ears, and rolled on your back to see a blurry Jimin standing above you.

“Hey.” He says gently, hand resting on your arm.

“Hey.” You whisper back, sleepily rubbing your eyes.

“You doing alright?” He asks softly, big doe eyes examining your face. You nod and sit up, letting the sleep work its way out of your system.  

“Come on, get dressed. We’re getting out of this damn apartment.” He orders, taking your hand and pulling you to your feet. You didn’t argue - you didn’t want to.

“You’ve seen Jeni, then?” You ask, walking to your wardrobe and finding anything to pull on.

“Yeah. Stupid boy…” he sighs, the last part quiet but you hear it all the same.

You finish getting dressed on autopilot, throwing on a quick layer of light make-up before you're ready. Grabbing your purse and phone and slipping on your shoes, you nod at Jimin.

He offers you a small smile before taking your hand in his and leading you both out of your bedroom. He squeezes your hand lightly, and your heart swells at the support from your friend. He was a lighthouse through the fog of all the bullshit you felt.

You hear her voice in the kitchen and tense, but Jimin runs a soothing thumb across your knuckles, and you shudder in a breath.

Both of you walk past the kitchen and see Jungkook making coffee, a pained expression on his face as he half listens to Jeni speak. At the sound of you and Jimin walking by his head snaps up, bright eyes fixed on you.

You feel your face heat up as you make eye contact, but Jimin continues to pull you away. Jungkook’s eyes snap to your locked hands, before back to you, his lips parting.

“Where are you going?” Jeni asks, obviously annoyed at Jungkook’s distraction.

“Out.” Jimin snaps, pushing you to the door.

You open it and step out, heaving a heavy breath of air. Jimin shuts the door behind you and throws an easy arm around your shoulder.

“We haven’t got to go out if you don’t want. We can go for a walk or something.”

“No, no it’s okay. I need something loud. And alcohol. Definitely alcohol.” You sigh, wrapping an arm around his waist, grateful for the support.

An hour later, you find yourself gulping down your sixth - seventh? - shot of the night, and your third glass of a bright blue liquid that was definitely strong but tasted too sweet for you to care.

The bar wasn’t too busy, it being a weeknight, but there was enough people there to keep it interesting.

Loud pop music filled the room, bouncing off the dark walls. You bopped along to the beat, the haze of drunkenness clouding your vision. You were numb, comfortably so.

Jimin had disappeared a little while ago, phone pressed to his ear - he said he was going to the bathroom, and for you to stay put. He’d been trying to tamper down your behaviour all evening, holding back too many shots and chasing off anyone who approached. But still you had managed to get a drink or two bought for you and gulped it down without him catching you in time. However you had gotten bored waiting and being babied, and drunkenly wandered off.

The bet still rattled around in your head, which caused you to flirt with everyone you came across. The still rational part of you screamed - your heart wasn’t in it, not any more. But your clouded brain wouldn’t see past it, and instead you let yourself be pressed against strangers, their hot breath rolling across your face as you tried your luck.

With your most recent attempt telling you that he’ll come find you later in the night, you gave him a sloppy wink before staggering away.

You press yourself against the bar, sloppily propping your head on your hand. The bartender places a small glass of water in front of you and you smile your thanks at him, pulling it to your lips and lightly sipping.  

The look in his eye catches you off guard - pity. Your smile falters, your drunken haze shattering around you. You gulp down the rest of the water and in a moment of clarity, realise you should find Jimin. You shouldn’t be here any more.

Your turn from the bar a little too fast, causing yourself to stumble. A pair of hands catch you, and prop you back up against the bar.

You look up at the man and thank him, and he smirks down at you. His brown choppy hair frames his face sharply, his lips drawn tightly into a smile.

“You heading somewhere in a hurry?” He asks, and you offer a polite smile.

“I’m- I’m” you pause to hiccup, “gonna find my friend. ‘Scuse me.”

“Woah, what’s the rush? I’m sure your friend will be here in a minute.” He takes hold of your wrist, pinning you in place. You try and snap your hand out of his hold, but his fingers are an iron grip.

“Let me g-go.”

“Don’t you wanna stay and chat? You’ve been hitting on everyone here, why not me babe?” He laughs, but his voice has an edge to it, an underlying bite.

“I’m going home… asshole. Getoffme-”

“Listen, slut-”

“Let go of me or I’ll scream.” You grind out, rage and fear bubbling in your chest. The man simply laughs, and you see red.

You dig your nails into his hand around your wrist, and he releases your hand with a grunt. You snap your hand away and begin to scramble from him, but he grabs your upper arm and slams you back against him.

“Isn’t this nice? Now-”

Just as suddenly as you’re pulled against the guy, you’re pulled away into someone’s chest.

“Jimin, I’ve got her!” The shout rumbles from the chest you’re against. You flick your eyes up to the owner of it, only to have the air sucked out of your lungs.

“Kook?” You whisper, his wide eyes meeting yours, a softness touching each corner of his face.

“Bro what the fu-” the man starts, snapping Jungkook gaze from you.

Jungkook wraps a protective arm around your waist, holding you to his side. Rage fills his face, his teeth gritted as he stares at the man.

“I’m not your ‘bro’. You’re disgusting.” Jungkook spits, steering you away from the guy.

You let out a breath, fingers gripping tightly into the material of his shirt. Jimin finally finds you, rushing to you and cupping your face in his hands. Jungkook tenses a little under you, but you don’t let him go.

Jungkook explains what just happened, and Jimin looks between the two of you and towards the man you were just with.

“Get her home, Jungkook. I’m going to have a little chat with our friend.” Jimin almost growls, letting his hands drop from your face.

“Be careful Jimin.” Jungkook offers quietly, but Jimin shakes his head.

“Just get her home.”

With a final nod, you’re walked out through the door of the bar and out into the darkened street. The wall of fresh air makes your head spin, and you cling to Jungkook for support.

You let him lead you down the street as he waits for an uber, his arms still snugly around your middle.  

“Why are you here, Kook?” You slur, lifting your lidded eyes to his face. His eyes stay firmly glued to his phone.

“Jimin called. Said you needed me, so here I am.”

“Yeah, but why are you here?”

His eyes flicker to you just for a second, a glimmer of something flashing across his wide eyes.

“Because… I care about you. Even if you think I don't. And if I left you to fend for yourself, Namjoon would castrate me.”

“I-I can handle myself. I don’t need you… stepping in like some knight in shining armour-”

“I know.” He murmurs, interrupting your rambling tirade. “But I want to.”

Your words die in your throat as you look at him. He’s aggressively avoiding your eyes, instead searching the roads.

It’s overwhelming, the need to tell him the depth of your feelings. You know it’s the alcohol coursing through your veins, but it’s deeper than that. And sober you would hate the drunken delivery, but you need to lighten your heart, your soul.

“Kook-“

You’re stopped by a car pulling up beside you. Jungkook confirms with the driver through the window about his pick up before reaches for the door, helping you in.

You reluctantly disentangle from him and climb clumsily into the car. Jungkook shuts the door behind you, and appears a moment later getting into the other side. As soon as the door shuts the car moves away, your mind spinning.

The ride’s quiet, but your eyes never leave him. You can't tell if it's the alcohol or not, but you can't stop. After a moment, he turns his gaze on to you, his lip between his teeth.  

“Why don’t you call me that more often?”

“... what?”

“Kook.” He says softly, and you feel your heart begin to thump wildly in your chest.

“I dunno, it just happens.” You shrug, but the weight of his question sits on your chest. He was your Kook, you wanted to scream. Not just Jungkook. Kook.

The rest of the ride is quiet. And despite all your anger and hurt, you slide against him and rest your head on his shoulder, lacing your fingers with his. You couldn’t stop yourself, but it felt right through your haze.

Too soon, the car pulls in front of your apartment block. Jungkook throws open the door and slides out, but keeps his hand clasped with yours. You follow him out on wobbly feet and close the door behind you.

You fight to keep your mind blank as he leads you back up to your apartment, only pausing to unlock your front door.

“Is, uh… is that devil bitch still here?” You whisper, pressing to Jungkook’s side. He nearly drops his keys as he looks at you, eyes wide.

“Jeni? No, no. She finally left when Jimin called.” He sighed, at last getting the door open.

You stumble in, momentarily forgetting your hands were linked and dragging Jungkook with you.

He says nothing, simply kicking the door shut behind him as you head straight for the sofa, pulling him down beside you.

The only light came from the windows, dewy street lights strobing the room. Shadows fall across his face, soft, and so close.

His lips part as he watches you, eyes wide. You don’t know how long you sit there for, but it felt like an eternity - and it was perfect. You could spend a lifetime looking at him, seeing him.

He forces his mouth shut and swallows before disentangling your hands. You make a noise of protest, but he holds a finger up.

He hurries to his feet and disappears, only to emerge a moment later, a glass of water in his hands. He offers it to you and you accept gratefully, gulping the cool liquid down.

You place the glass carefully back on the table before settling back onto the chair, head falling to his shoulder.

It couldn’t be helped - the neediness that was trying to claw its way from your chest. You wanted nothing more than for him to consume you, to hold you, to kiss you. It felt so amplified in the moment.

But you couldn’t - how could you? You had to live together, you shared the same friends. Would he ever feel the same? You weren’t like his exes, you weren’t like anything he knew.

You feel his weight shift, and your heart thuds as he leans his head on yours, fingers lacing once again.

“Are you okay, Y/N?” He asks, his voice so soft you barely hear it above the roaring in your head.

“I… yeah. Tired.” You mentally kick yourself, chickening out of your true feeling and leaving a bitter taste in your mouth.

“You should go to bed-“

“No! I mean… just a minute longer. S’nice.” You murmur, tracing your thumb across his pink knuckles. He lets out a soft sigh, and you feel him relax beneath you.  

You realise as you drift off that you can’t do it - the bet, Jeni, any of it. It was heading to something you didn’t want, a trial you weren't prepared to face.

“Stupid.” You mumble aloud. Jungkook hums at you but you don’t hear as you quickly drift off, the heat radiating from him to you being the only thing that matters.

— —

There was only four days of the bet left.

When you had woken the morning after your night out, you were on the couch alone. You were in the apartment alone. You shifted, only to find a blanket draped over you and the blinds pulled to block out any unwanted light in your fragile state. A fresh glass of water sat on the small coffee table in front of you, and you swallow thickly.

You remembered the night in gory detail, but the essence remained true enough - the bet was over for you. You couldn’t do it anymore, no bedroom was worth it.

And so the next few days had passed uneventfully, slowly and totally alone. You hadn’t seen Jungkook at all since that night, but a glance at the board on the fridge told you that he hadn’t stopped the bet - in fact he’d overtaken you. The wonky lines under his name sliced through you, a chill settling in your chest.

It had begun to feel claustrophobic in the apartment, a constant pressing on your mind and heart. Even though you hadn’t seen Jungkook, knowing he was around was enough. You barely left your room, conscious about running into him.

You waited until he had left for work before you emerged from your room, keen on devouring anything in your path. You’re midway through rummaging in the fridge when a knock raps quickly at your door.

You hesitate for a moment, waiting to see if they would leave. When the knocking continues, however, you decide to answer. Scraping your hair back neatly as you approach the door, you swing it open-

Only to be met with Jeni.

“What?”

“Charming. Is Kookie here? He’s not replying to my texts or calls.”

“Work.” You sigh, ignoring the way she waves her expensive phone inches from your face.

“Hm. Well, maybe I’ll wait for him to come back- we’re talking again, you know.” She smirks at you, smugness radiating off of her as her eyes scan your face for the slightest hint of weakness.

You let nothing slip despite the punch you feel in your gut. You swallow, trying to wet your drying throat.

“Oh really? I didn’t know gargoyles were able to converse. Congrats for your species.” You say, the fakest smile you could mister plastered on your face.

“You’re just jealous, Y/N. It’s obvious.”

“Are you done? I’m bored of this conversation.” You snap, leaning awkwardly against the door.

“You know what, I will wait for Koo-“

“Yeah, I’m gonna be late, I left my keycard at home- oh.” Comes a voice from down the corridor, and you lean out to see Jungkook stopped in his tracks, his eyes rapidly flicking between you and Jeni. He had his phone pressed to his ear, dressed impeccably in his suit and tie, perfectly pressed trousers tailored to his figure. You’d seen him in what he wears for work many times, but it never failed to knock the breath from your lungs.

“Kookie!” Jeni squeaks, fixing him with a wide smile.

“I’ll be in when I can. Bye.” He deadpans into his phone, not waiting for a reply before he ends the call and pockets the device. “What are you doing here?”

“You weren’t answering my calls-”

“Because I told you I wasn’t going to.” Jungkook’s voice is low, dangerously low, but his eyes are deadlier.

“Jungkook, what are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry you’ve misunderstood me again Jeni, but I told you from the start that nothing would happen between us again. I won’t let you hurt me a second time around.”

The stunned expression on her face is almost laughable, but you do feel a slight tinge of pity for her. It doesn’t last long though. She pulls her expression into a scowl, sneering at him. She casts a sharp glance at you before glaring back at him.

“Whatever Kookie. You’ll come crawling back to me, they always do. Let me know how this all works out.” a spiteful laugh pulls from her lips, flicking a finger between you and Jungkook.

Your eyebrows shoot up as she walks away, letting her hand trace across his bicep as she walks by. You watch the strain on his face as he suppresses a shiver, refusing to move until she was finally gone.

“You okay?” he asks, voice softened as he looks at you. You nod, unable to find your voice.

Panic flushes through you as you step back, ducking back through the door and into the apartment. The gentleness that had crept into his face when he looked at you was too much, it was what you were trying to hide from. You were nearly at your room when his voice hits you, deep, and pained.

“You’ve been avoiding me.”

You breathe in deeply, steeling yourself. You’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Jungkook had never liked confrontation, so you were banking on him ignoring the tensions that hangs in the air. You just wanted enough time to forget. To get over him.

“No, I haven-”

“Yes you have, Y/N. What have I done?”

You didn’t want to look back at him. You couldn’t bear to see the galaxy in his eyes. But he deserved a reason. And maybe, finally, once he knew you could breathe a little. There was no glimmer of hope that he’d return the feelings, but at least you could get some space. But getting that would hurt too.

What a fucking mess.

Slowly, you turn on your heels and walk back to the kitchen to meet him. He stands in the doorway, eyes fixed on you. You take a steadying breath, stamping down the fear that begins to rise in your throat.

“You haven’t done anything.”

“There must be something. I don’t want to upset you, Y/N. Talk to me.” He takes a step towards you but you take a step back.

“It’s me, Kook.”

“What? Y/N I’m confu-”

“I like you. Okay? I really like you. Fuck, I don’t want to say the ‘L’ word but...I can’t do it any more.” Your voice shakes and your eyes sting, but you hold strong. His eyes widen as he drags his eyes away from you, and appealing to the dark irony within you, his eyes fix on your scoreboard sitting glaringly on the fridge.

There were your words, your heart, head and hopes all laid out for him.

But he just stares at you. Silently, suffocatingly. Time stretched, and the longer it went on, the blacker your heart felt.

“Jungkook?”

Nothing.

“Please?” You croak, your voice thick.

“Y/N. I don’t know what to say.”

“Spare my feelings, Kook. Just say something.”

His eyes finally meet yours. They’re wide, tainted with a softness that made your chest hurt.

“The ‘L’ word?” He asks, eyebrows pulled together, fingers nervously twitching by his side.

“Love, Jungkook. I love…” But you can’t finish the sentence - not with the way he’s looking at you.

“Why do you love me?” he takes another step forward, eyes desperately searching for an answer in your face.

“I-I don’t know. It just crept up on me. I can’t stop. Believe me, I would if I could.”

“But- but why would you want to?” You frown at him. His words come from a much more innocent place than you imagined, but it stirred up so many feelings inside of you. You chose to focus on anger.

“Because I can’t watch you love other people that aren’t me, Kook. I can’t have my heart broken any more. I don’t want to hurt.”

He steps forward, hand reaching out to hold yours. He fills your senses, and you can’t think straight. Everything becomes him, and as much as you don’t want him to leave, he’s too much.

You step back from him, letting your hand slip from his. His mouth parts as he watches you, the lost expression you’re so used to creeping back onto his face.

“I- I can’t. You’re everything, Jungkook. I can’t let you break my heart again, watching you fall for people who I can’t be.” You walk back slowly, eyes flicking everywhere but him. “I’m gonna go stay with Joon and Jin, and find somewhere else to live-”

“Y/N-”

“It’ll be better for both of us-”

“Y/N!”

“Kook?!”

“I don’t want you to leave me.”

His eyes are wide, but determination seeps through him, his unending need to see things through permeating his very being.

“I- what?” You blurt.

He strides the distance between you in a few easy steps, his hands finding your face before he crashes his lips onto yours, desperate for you to understand just how he feels.

You tense under him, your heart thudding so loudly in your chest you’re sure he could hear it.

But your body lets him in, finally, totally and completely. Your hands knot around his neck, yout eyes fluttering shut as you finally give in to your heart.

His hands gently caress your cheeks as he kisses you, fiercely parallelled by how hard he pressed his lips on yours, small sighs escaping him.

You’re the first to pull back, your arms still pressed against his neck as you explored his face, freely and unashamed. His thumbs drag across your cheek, the universe swimming around you both.

“I… may ‘L’ word you too.” He whispers, a goofy bunny smile sliding onto his face. He tucks his face into his chest, almost as if he was trying to hide.

All the pain and confusion seemed to melt at his words. The weeks, the months, you spent aching for something you didn’t know.

“You do? But what about Jeni?” You ask, and his smile turns sheepish as he looks up at you.

“Oh..uh, yeah. I kinda, was a little, maybe bitter. Jealous. Possibly.” A blush creeps along his face, and it unfurls something hot in the pit of your stomach.

“Bitter about what?” You raise an eyebrow, and his next words are barely above a rushed whisper.

“ParkJimin-”

“What?

“Park Jimin!” He yelps, before hiding his face in your arms.

“Jimin? What’s he got- oh. You were jealous of me and Jimin? Why?”

“Look, I know it’s dumb-”

“It is, yeah.”

“-but I couldn’t help it. You two had some… thing, and you hang out all the time. I just… got caught up in it and the bet. Knowing you’d been with him first and had slept with more than me… it just got to my head.”

“But Jeni…”

“Yeah I know, I wasn’t thinking straight. But she was here, and all I could think about was you.”

The admission stunned you, your jaw dropping.

“So why didn’t you say anything to me?”

Why didn’t you?” He asks quickly, and you feet heat creep across your face.

“Okay, touché. We’re both stupid.”

“Yeah. But not any more.” A smile slides on to his lips, and you mirror him.

“I doubt that.”

He chuckles as he looks at you, bright eyes meeting yours. He brings you forward once again, pressing his lips to yours. It’s softer this time, slower. Something that had been worth waiting for.

You pull back from him, placing your hands on his chest and push him back before you fall in too deep.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at work?” You ask, your voice croaking.

His eyebrows knit as he looks at you, kiss-reddened lips pulled into a pout. But then an easy smile slips onto his face. It shines so bright it felt like you’d been living in shadows your whole life.

“I’ve waited long enough for this. They can have a day without me.”

You smirk, the fire inside you burning as you finally, finally have Jungkook where you wanted him. And you weren’t going to pass this up, not for anything ever again.

You back him against the wall to kiss along his angular jaw and down his throat, his adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows thickly at your ministrations.

You slide the jacket from his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor before you start to undo the buttons on his shirt.

You remove your lips from his neck to watch the shirt slip from his body, the fine fabric rippling off his supple skin. You let your finger drag across his bare chest, excitement bubbling in your chest at finally being able to touch him.  

Meeting his eyes you let one hand slip to his belt, slowly unbuckling it. You let your other hand slip into his pocket, pulling out his phone and handing it to him.

“Call your office.”

He takes the phone tentatively from you, confusion crossing his face. But he does as he’s told, scrolling through his call history, eyes fixed on you.

You wait patiently for his call to go through, your fingers subtly undoing the button on his trousers. Finally his call gets picked up, and you prepare to spring into action.

“Oh hey, it’s Jungkook.”

At his words you rip his trousers and boxers down to his ankles, take his girthy cock in your hand stroke him quickly to his full hardness. Jungkook’s eyes bug out of his head, jaw hanging open as he watches you.  

Y-yea I’m not, oh go-“ he slams his mouth shut, taking a steadying breath as your hand twists around his tip.

“I’m not gonna make it in!” He rushes, heaving a relieved breath.

You can hear them ask why, and hiding your smirk, you wait for him to start replying.

“Oh, uh, my apartment, it’s-“

You take him in your mouth as far as you can, lips wrapping around his cock and pressing your tongue against his underside, dragging off slowly with a pop before taking him again.

“Fuc- f - flooded! It’s flooded. Shit.” He pants, his free hand weaving into your hair as he stares down at you, bunny teeth sunk into his lip.

You twist your hand around his base and you bob up and down on his cock, heady at the precum that oozes into your mouth.

“Oh, I’m f-f-fine. Gotta go!” He yells down the phone before ending the call and throwing it at the kitchen counter.

He lets out a juddering moan, letting both his hands knot into your hair.

“You’re the fucking worst.” He pants, hips rolling off the wall.  

You hum onto his cock, swirling your tongue around him. With each swipe, his hands on your hair pull tighter, the tingling in your scalp that sets you on fire.

You feel him throb in your mouth, and despite the tears that spring to your eyes each time his hips stutter him further down your throat, you can’t take your eyes off him. Breathless, wide eyes watching you take him in, bare chest rapidly rising and falling.

He cries out, quickly but carefully sliding you off his length, the tip oozy and red.

“Not yet. Not yet.” He croaks, before pulling you to your feet.

He walks you backwards into your kitchen counter, before turning you and pinning you against the cool granite.

He leans over you, lips pressed to the shell of your ear as he slides his hands down your body.

“I’ve wanted this for a long time.” He breathes in your ear, and you shiver beneath him.

“You better get on with it.” You murmur, circling your ass into his crotch.

He groans, and furiously yanks down your track pants and panties. He stands back from you to examine you as you sit there, totally exposed to him.

“Kook…” you groan, the cool air meeting your soaking slit.

He says nothing, and you can’t feel him around you. Confusion creeping in, you move to turn around when you feel his tongue lick from your clit all the way along your dripping core.

“Jungkook!”

“Sorry - was admiring the view.”

You squeal as your fingers clench on the counter, his hands moving to grab your ass cheeks. His fingers knead in as he works his tongue, catching just the edge of your clit before he swipes up. He’s perched behind you, on his knees with his face buried in your pussy. The reality of it all makes your face heat, so you lay it back on the counter to cool off.

He only kitten licks, never enough pressure to make your eyes roll back but too good to stop. A light suck on your clit, a fast flick all the way up to you asshole, never anything with substance. Every time you try to roll your hips back for more friction his hands would hold you down, pinned and bent over the counter.

“That feel good baby?” There was a hint of genuineness in his voice, vulnerability that made your heart quiver. And your-

“Jungkook…” you moan, toes curling as he blows cool air across your dripping slit. You were too turned on for his games.

“Not’ Jungkook’.” He whispers, his hand sliding down to run a feather light touch over your throbbing core.

“Wh… what?” It’s more of a moan than a question, but he delivers a light slap across your pussy and you yelp in surprise.

“Call me the other name. The one I like.”

Another quick kitten lick has your hips rolling, the teasing pushing you too far.

“Brat.” Another slap, this time a little harder.

“What was that, Y/N? I didn’t hear you properly.” You can hear the smirk in his voice, and as much as you want to turn around and fight him, you want his mouth on you so much more.

“Kook, just eat my fucking pussy already.” You growl. He gives you a small giggle before he obeys.

He begins to eat you out like a man starved, licking fat strips up your length and rolling his tongue across your clit. He groans as he works, fingers kneading into your ass cheeks as he tastes you.

You were practically dripping, Jungkook’s tongue expertly hitting your clit in every way to make you moan.  

He ghosts a finger across your ass, bringing it to your clit to replace his mouth. His mouth moves higher, moving to press just inside your walls. A cry leaves your lips, his finger coating with your wetness they swipe quicker and quicker over your clit.

The tip of his tongue impales you, his moans vibrating you and sending your mind reeling. Your clit throbs beneath his touch, sending you hurtling to your orgasm.

“Jungkook, fuck…”

“Hmm?” He hums, and you groan at his petulance.

“Sorry… brat.” You smirk, only to have him fully pull away at you just as you were at your peak. The absence makes you ache with need, whiney and desperate.

“Jungkook!”

Another slap lands on your pussy and you squeal, the heat of his hand leaving you dripping as the cool air rushed in to replace it.

“Who’s the brat now?” You can hear the smirk in his voice.

“Kook, please!” you shout.

With an incredibly unsubtle laugh, his fingers fly back to your clit, circling faster than before. His tongue seeks you out, pushing inside and letting your wetness coat him.

A cry escapes you as you begin to cum, twitching and bent over the countertop. Jungkook coaxes you through it, whimpers erupting from his throat. He pulls away from you once your gyrating stops, hand gently tracing along your sensitive slit.

On shaky legs he turns you, smiling at your flushed expression and blown out eyes. His eyes scrunch as he pulls you in for a kiss, quick and sloppy, the taste of you fresh in his tongue.

With gentle hands, he hoists you from your ass, settling you on the counter. He comes back to kiss you again, body pressed against you. And despite how tender he was being and how it made your heart clench in your chest, you needed him.

Sliding your hand between your bodies, you take a hold of his cock and begin to rub him up and down your wet slit. His face scrunches, the feeling of you coating him rocking him to his core.

He grabs hold of your hip and places a hand over yours so that you begin to guide him inside of you together. He pushes in slow, the drag of his girthy length inside you sends your head flying back. He frowns as she concentrates, finally bottoming out inside you.

He pulls slowly back out before driving home, the sensation making you both moan.

Pure euphoria is written across his face, an infectious happiness that you find yourself wanting to bask in forever.

You move to meet him, the cool surface beneath you biting into your hot skin. His fingers knit into the bottom of your shirt before tugging at it, pulling it up and off you, His eyes shoot to your bare chest, a groan leaving his lips.

He surges forward, lips latching to your nipple, but his hips never missing a beat as he thrusts deeply into you. A guttural moan of his name leaves your lips.

His tongue swirls over your stiff nipple, the bud aching under his touch. You lean back against the counter, toes curling as you wrap your legs around him.

He’s pushed up on his toes, trying other angles to be able to reach inside you properly without leaving your chest, but he struggles. A whine leaves him as he slides off your breast with a pop, his fingers pressed against your back.

“What’s the matter Kook,” you moan, blurry eyes focusing on him as he drags back out of you. “Can’t reach me?”

A shadow passes his face, a challenge he can’t refuse. Gripping you around the waist, he slides you off the counter, still fully seated inside you.

With your legs wrapped around him, he carries you to the sofa, a smirk on his face. Lowering you both down, his eyes fix back on yours, pressing you into the couch beneath him. With a quick peck, he’s pulling back out of you again and pushing back in, his hips picking back up speed as he pounds you into the sofa.

You wrap your legs around him for support, his forehead coming to rest on yours. You wind your fingers in his hair, holding onto the strands for stability as Jungkook rocks into you. His brow creases in concentration, small gasps and murmurs falling from his lips.

He hits your soft spot inside of you with the drag of his cock and your vision goes blurry. Your fingers tighten in his hair, the pressure making him hiss.

In the blink of an eye he takes hold of your wrists and pins them above your head and you whine, a smirk clear on his face.

“What’s the matter, Y/N, can’t handle it?”

You gasp, rolling your hips particularly viciously at him and clenching as hard as you can. His hips stutter for a moment as he lets his head fall into the crook of your neck, catching his breath.

“Do that again and this is gonna be over very quick.” he pants, and a wave of pride fills you.

“What, this?” You whisper into his ear, rolling your hips and clenching down again on his cock that sat deep inside you.

He picks his head up and kisses your roughly, fingers digging into your wrists. Your hips still, Jungkook sat inside while you enjoy the moment for what it is. He finally releases you and smiles, sparkling eyes and bunny teeth. And all yours.

His hips begin to move again, working you both back towards the fast pace he drilled into you before. You hook your legs tighter around him, pulling him closer to you with every thrust.

He collects both of your wrists in one hand above his head and brings his hand down your arm, fingertips tracing along your skin to your face. He thumbs over your jaw before bringing his hand down to your throat, fingertips ghosting on the delicate skin there.

You suck in a deep breath, eyes latching on his above you, perspiration sticking his hair to his forehead as he smirks down at you.

His hand slides off your throat, and trails down your body to reach between your legs - but not before stopping for a light flick of your nipple on the way down. His finger drag across your clit drawing a moan from you. Your hands twitched in his grip, desperate to feel him. Your hips begin to roll, The pressure inside you mounting.

“Kook, close…”

“Let go for me baby.” He whispers, before pressing his lips against yours.

You manage to snap one of your wrists from his grip, and bring your hand down to twist your fingers in his hair, kissing him back deeply.

A few more circles of your clit and you come undone, Your body juddering beneath Jungkook’s strokes as you see stars. You clench uncontrollably on him, the motion tipping Jungkook over the edge with you.

He cries out against your lips, hips stuttering as he comes inside you. You both ride the sensation out until he lets himself collapse on you, head tucked into the crook of your neck.

He takes a moment for his hips to stop their ministrations, his hot breath fanning against your chest. Finally he lifts his head up and smiles down at you, his nose scrunching at the motion. You smile back at him, totally lost in his eyes.

Sitting back, he pulls himself out of you, stopping to watch his cum drip out of your pussy. Entranced, he runs his fingers along your sensitive clit, your body twitching under his touch.

Gathering up some of the spill, Jungkook slides a finger inside you, pushing it back in.

You immediately clench down on his fingers, your core oversensitive but still completely responsive to him. His fingers build up speed, jackhammering his come back inside of you, his fingers crooked so that they brushed your g- spot with each move.

“Kook, my god!” you yelp, hands curling into the cushions beneath you. Your hips gyrate at the pressure. Despite the sensitivity and the sting, the waves of pleasure that washed through you couldn’t be stopped.

“What was that?” He snarks, before flicking his finger over your clit at lightning speed.

Your orgasm breaks over you, your hips thrusting off the chair as his fingers work, a strangled cry escaping your throat. He only stops when your tired body begins to slow, sliding his fingers out with a smirk on his face.

Once your unfocused eyes finally zero in on his he smiles at you before sticking his finger in his mouth, sucking them clean. A low moan emits from your throat.

“Wow.”

“Wow yourself.” He mumbles, taking your hand and pulling you up. He gently wraps an arm around your waist and flops back on the couch, settling you on his chest.

You sit in silence for just a moment, letting the reality settle into your skin. Finally you rest your chin on his chest, and stare up at him with a smile on your face.

“I told you I could give you an orgasm or three.” He smirks and your sigh, planting your face into his skin. He laughs, the light rumble from his chest shaking you, squeezing your heart tighter.

“You’re the worst. I don’t know why I like you.”

“Well I know why I like you.” He whispers, and you pick your head back up to look at him, teeth sunk into his bottom lip.

A small smile slips onto your face, your heart thudding wildly in your chest as you stare up at him. You bring your hand to brush over his jaw, before stretching up and pressing your lips softly against his own.

You release him and open your eyes, his bright eyes fixed on yours. His hand moves to rest in your hair, the strands woven around his fingers.

“So, do I get Namjoon’s room?”

“Kook! No way-”

“Come on, baby. I kinda did win!”

“You can’t ‘baby’ me! I was in the lead and gave up. If I kept on pace then I definitely would have won.”

“Not fair.” He huffs, but a small smirk turns the corner of his mouth. “How about another bet? First to cum wins.”

You laugh and shake your head, letting your hand smooth down from his jaw to trace across his chest.

“Screw it, be prepared to lose..”

He smiles, leaning forward and pressing his smiling lips against yours. He pulls back to press his forehead against yours, nose scrunched.

“If I’m still yours after, then this is one competition I don’t mind losing.” His whispered words clench in your chest and you giggle, despite yourself.

“You will be, Kook. But I’m still gonna win.”

[starkeristheendgame]

Complicated Boyfriends and Cute Waiters

Just a little something for @starkerchemistry​ for all the love she threw at Complicated Boyfriends and Kidnapping. Also, pls reminds Chems of how amazing her work is bc the lil shit disagrees >:( Also for @starkerintheparker​ because I keep converting her to WinterSpider >;D WinterIronSpider.

Tony takes one look at his waiter and sighs heavily.

Not because there’s anything wrong; no. In fact, the plush lips and the shaped jaw and the mop of curls desperately styled into something resembling purposeful mess is actually quite pleasing. The large, honey eyes that widen in recognition don’t hurt either.

No. It’s because Tony knows Bucky is going to take one look at this twinky little slip in his smart shirt and his tie and he’s going to want.

And Tony so had been looking forwards to a quiet evening. A little wine, some $80 salmon and perhaps even getting dicked down into the next fortnight by his boyfriend. The standard casual night in.

“Mr. Iron Stark” the boy whelped, and immediately flushed scarlet at his mishap. Tony could only smile quietly into his book, endeared if a little mollified.

“I think ‘Tony’ would suffice” he responded demurely, sliding the bookmark into place and setting his book aside. The boy was now stood bolt upright, and had obviously steeled himself into giving the Best Service Ever, though he looked a little like he might crumble if Tony so much as looked at him for too long.

“Oh, god. Right. Yes. Mr - I mean, Tony. Of course. I’m sorry, I’ve only just started this job and I’m not used to...” The boy trailed off, clearly trying to think of a way to say ‘people like you’ without it coming across as a little insulting. Tony flashed him an easy, warm smile.

“Breathe, kid. I’m just like anyone else in person, I promise. How about you start me off with a nice, fruity red bottle and two double Presidential 25′s, if that’s okay? Take your time; Lord knows my boyfriend certainly is” he teased, head tipping as he disarmed the boy with another dazzling smile.

His waiter could only gape, before he shut his mouth with a painful sounding clack and spun on his heel, fleeing to the nether-regions of the employee zone. Tony gave an amused sound as he checked his phone. It wasn’t like Bucky to run late; that was Tony’s thing.

And then, like Beetlejuice and undoubtedly because Tony had been thinking of him, Bucky came sauntering into the restaurant like some sort of underwear model. His suit was a deep, silken black with a slightly lighter floral pattern in the fabric, the jacket hanging artfully off his shoulders as he swept the room for his lover.

His hair was styled neatly, and Tony still loved the more modernised cut that he’d opted for; longer on one side, layered and fluffy with bangs that fell over one eye constantly. His stubble was a neat shadow on his jaw, and his eyes focused on Tony with such intensity as he approached that Tony lifted a brow.

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you were trying to out-do me” Tony greeted as he leaned back in his seat, enough that Bucky could duck down and suck his lower lip into his mouth for a brief but promising kiss.

“Actually, I’m just trying to do you” Bucky shot back shamelessly as he slid into his seat, one leg immediately finding Tony’s under the table to press against. Tony gave an indignant sound, because it was both a truth and a lie, but let it go as movement caught the corner of his eye. Much as he wanted to watch the boy approach, he turned back to Bucky.

Storm-grey eyes slid away, following the path his own had left, and oh, yes. There it was. The subtle up-down of Bucky’s lashes as he sized up the boy, the curl of a smirk at the corners of his mouth. Bucky’s gaze drifted back to Tony in an undeniable stake of predator-prey. Tony could only tip his head in response, smirking slowly.

“H-here. I’m so sorry it took a while” the boy fretted, balancing a tray neatly on one hand as he set a tumbler of whiskey opposite each man, complete with artful glass freezer cubes and an empty, polished wine glass besides that, setting the bottle of red - freshly corked - in the centre of the table. He had to lean over a little to do so, and you would have had to be blind to miss the way that Bucky leaned back to sweep over his body.

“What did I say, darling? Treat me like any other rich shmuck in this place. And don’t mind him, he only bites if you ask nicely” Tony hummed, gesturing to his boyfriend, who eyed him both like he wanted to throttle him and kiss him senseless. In Tony’s experience they often came one with the other regardless.

“I - Sorry?” It came out as a question, but the boy was flushed from hairline to shirt collar and fumbled with his notepad, hands a little shaky as he produced a pen from his breast pocket. “Um, are you ready to order? Or would you like me to give you another minute?” He asked, and it was impossible to miss the way his gaze flit between them, eyes raking their bodies like they were two cuts of steak he was trying to decide between.

“Oh, I think Bucky knows what he wants, alright” Tony purred in obvious, gleeful amusement. Bucky smiled at him in a flash of canine, but didn’t miss a beat as he tipped his head back, eyeing the waiter with a charming smile.

“I’ll settle for the stripped, gold-crust steak served rare, and your name, since this moron was clearly too impolite to ask”. And ooohhhh, wasn’t that a low blow to gain favour? Tony pressed the toes of his Louboutin’s into Bucky’s own none too gently.

“Peter” the waiter blurted, eyes flitting between them as he scribbled down Bucky’s order in impressive short-hand, gaze drifting to Tony, who only smiled serenely at his boyfriend.

“You’re so predictable. Always going for the tender, high-class meat. Always liking it raw” Tony purred, and they both knew he wasn’t talking about the steak. Bucky only gave an elegant shrug in response; at a loss to deny it. Peter was looking between them again, vaguely like he might know they were talking about sex, but unable to address it.

“What can I say? I like something solid to sink my teeth into. I like a little juice to lick at and taste. And you of all people know I prefer it raw” Bucky replied steadily, gaze not leaving Tony’s.

“I’ll have the salmon, please, Peter.” Tony hummed, gaze leaving Bucky to look sweetly up at the boy, who nodded and turned, striding away like he was desperate to run away. Tony let his gaze drop back to Bucky. “Less wolf, more fox. He’s a skittish young thing. Haven’t I taught you anything about hunting?” He sighed in mock admonishment and Bucky reached across the table to cup his jaw, smirking.

“Doll, I was fucking people in back-alleys long before you were born. You taught me nothing, old man”. And, well. Rude. “You’re right, though. We might spook him off at this rate. Last time I saw someone that red it was Clint, and he was choking on a mint”. Bucky leaned back, picking up his whiskey and taking an indulgent sip.

They made comfortable small-talk over the time it took for their meals to arrive, Tony lamenting the boredom he’d faced at the quarterly performance review and Bucky noting the progress he and Steve were making with their veteran programs. Tony was proud of his man, really. He’d come so far since Steve had shown up at the Tower with him, both sopping wet and bloodied.

Peter came back no longer than ten minutes later, a plate upon each hand. He delivered Tony’s first, bending down to slide the plate onto the table, and Tony couldn’t resist leaning over, flashing a sweet smile at the boy up close, where he could see flacks of green in his eyes. “Thank you, darling” he murmured, and Peter’s cheeks went red yet again, like Tony simply speaking to him was an activation button for a blush.

Bucky, the brat, had to go one extra. Instead of giving Peter room when the boy bent down he crowded in close, practically licking the shell of the boy’s ear as he whispered a sultry "Thanks, Doll”. Peter’s gaze jerked to Tony, alarmed, but Tony only half-rolled his eyes and picked up a delicate mouthful of smoked salmon.

“You’re a pest” he noted, once Peter had stammered his way into retreating once more. “I had a quiet evening planned” he added, as though it mattered. It didn’t. This practically was his quiet evening, he just now had two desserts instead of one. By the way Bucky eyed him, he knew that, too.

“Shut up and eat your fish” Bucky drawled, popping a cut of dripping steak with tiny flecks of gold powder into his mouth. Obnoxious prat.

But Tony did as told, polishing off the salmon and whiskey both, and filling their wine glasses with a generous serving. It was sweet and rich, just his taste, and he wondered if another waiter hadn’t advised Peter on which choice to bring. “So. The choice is yours” he announced after a pause, when Bucky had finished his own meal and was sniffing daintily at the wine.

“You wanna play sheepdog, or am I?” Bucky asks in answer, lips curving into a wicked smirk that has Tony grinning in response, leg twisting around Bucky’s in a hidden touch. Tony shifted his wine glass in response, allowing a few measly drops to fall onto the edge of his jacket. Good thing he wore grey and hated this suit anyway, because that red wasn’t gonna come out.

Bucky only rolled his eyes, because they’d played this game before, and pushed to his feet. “Woof woof, bitch” Bucky murmured, low into Tony’s ear as he passed, and Tony resisted the urge to drag him back by his hair, to put him on his knees right then. Largely because of he had one more PR disaster this month Pepper got his custom Audi, and he only had four days to go.

It took another short collection of minutes for Peter to come practically skipping over; during which Tony had splashed a few more drops for good measure. “Oh, Peter. D’you think you could help a clumsy old man out? Buck’s gone on a phonecall and I tipped my wine” Tony pouted, putting on his best helpless, sweet aura. Peter’s eyes zeroed in on the red splashed at his hips, tongue peeking out like the solution was to lick it clean.

“Of course! I can - I’ll see if there’s any stuff behind the bar? I can be right back” Peter breathed, but Tony shook his head, pushing to stand. Peter’s eyes are wide now, like a startled deer. They’re stood close enough for Tony to note he has almost a full head on the boy. For a man who’s boyfriend towered over him, it made him rather smug.

“Oh, no need for all of that. Just come to the men’s with me to help me dab the wet patches, hm? At least I won’t reek like a wine cellar on the way home”. He added a charming smile for good measure, turning on his heel. He didn’t need to look to know Peter would follow obediently. Refusing Tony Stark wasn’t good for business, after-all.

Bucky is perfectly concealed when he swings the door open, shrugging out of his jacket and listening to the clack of another polished shoe on the tiles as Peter steps in after him, practically vibrating with nervous energy. Tony carelessly draped his jacket over the edge of the sink and begun to run the tap, because what was a story without details?

Peter hovered closer, clearly unsure of why it would take two men to wash a jacket. “I - What do you need me to do, Mr. Stark?” The boy asks not a moment later, and Tony can’t bite back a grin. Peter has wandered around to his right, which means when Bucky makes his dramatic entrance, it’s gonna be behind the kid.

“Oh, nothing you don’t want to, darling. But if you do want to, then just stand there and let me make you feel good, hm?” He asked, head tilting as he turned off the tap and took a step closer. The hitch of Peter’s breath is audible.

He doesn’t step away, though. Interesting.

“Y-You’re here with your boyfriend” Peter whimpered, even as Tony’s hands came up to his shoulders and chest, petting gently. He trembled under the touch, but didn’t back away, sucking his lower lip into his mouth. Over Peter’s shoulder Tony can see Bucky swing around the edge of a stall door, prowling quietly closer, but he doesn’t dare look up, doesn’t dare alert Peter of the predator at his heels.

“I wouldn’t worry about hurting my feelings, Doll” Bucky purred, low and raspy in Peter’s ear as he pressed up against Peter’s back, until the boy was a pretty little sandwich filler. Peter actually yelped, driving forwards into Tony’s chest, and Tony let his hands fall to slim hips, holding him steady.

“Now, Bucky” he chided, voice softening. “What do we do before we play?” He asked, arching a brow as Peter panted between them. Bucky cast him a pouty but gentle look.

“We ask for consent” he hummed, metal hand reaching up to gently brush aside a curl when Peter whipped around to face him, lips parted.

“Good boy” Tony murmured, gaze dropping back to Peter. They take a step away from him in unison, giving the poor thing some room to breathe. “So. That means you can tell us to stop, and we’ll walk out, pay our bill, and we won’t approach you this way again. Or...You can say yes, and we’ll be gentle, but we’ll make you feel good” he continued.

Peter shifted between them, looking cautious but also like he was two breaths away from sinking to his knees. His voice is small, rough when he finally speaks. “If...What will you do? To make me feel good?” He whispered, and Tony and Bucky wore matching, slow smirks.

“Well. I’m more of a practical person” Tony drawled, eyes roaming Peter’s face for confirmation. He found it in a weak nod, the boy’s pupils blowing as he advanced closer and reached out, him and Bucky closing Peter between them once again. Peter was small between them, lips bitten and eyes wild as Bucky reached down, sliding metal fingers along the curve of his ass and between his thighs, rubbing there like you’d finger a girl, his other hand winding around to press flat over Peter’s stomach.

A wrecked, torn sound slips from Peter’s throat, practically collapsing against Bucky as Tony’s hand dripped down, palming over the half-hard bulge there none too teasingly, the other hand cupping his jaw and tipping his head.

“We’ve maybe got five minutes or less” Tony breathed, licking into the corner of Peter’s plush, pink mouth as Bucky pressed up against him, dropping to mouth at his neck. “I can think of a few things to do”.

[detroitbydark]

Crossed Connections: Part II

Characters: Tech x Togruta!Reader 

Warnings: None

Summary: Everyone experiences exhaustion. Some handle it differently than others.

You can read the first part here

Tech swore he’d seen something as the transport had skimmed the tree line in an attempt to cruise under Separatist radar. A dark shape, springing from through the deep red treetops, attempting to keep up with the Havoc Marauder. 

That’s how Hunter found himself an unwilling student to Tech’s lecture on Anaxes’ native fauna.

“Did you know fyrnocks typically roost in tree canopies? They’re almost entirely nocturnal and are incredibly light sensitive but they don’t sleep underground.”

Hunter nods vacantly, knowing that once Tech started on a topic it was best to let it run its course. Wrecker and Crosshair were both asleep in the cargo bay. It was upto one of them to keep their brain occupied while his battery wore down. 

Even exhausted, Tech’s mind never seemed to slow, jumping from one topic to the next. Exhaustion only seemed to bring to surface the more obscure things he fixated on. At least he wasn’t focusing on languages this go around. 

Last mission Wrecker sat with him for over two hours as he’d slipped in and out of Shyriiwook. Wrecker, never to be confused with an intellectual, had smiled and nodded to his young vod before he’d finally burned through enough energy to pass out over the ships console.

“It’s thought that the species as a whole springs from a single mother entity.” Tech looks up to see if Hunter was still listening “it’s all very fascinating.”

Tech types away at the small datapad secured to his vambrace. “There’s even some chatter about them being linked to the dark side of the Force. Can you imagine? I mean, from what I understand of the Force-“

“Tech” Hunter interrupts gruffly “save it until after debrief with Commander Cody?”

With a flip of the wrist, the younger clone closes the pad. “Of course Sarge, just thought it was interesting” 

“It is but we’re all running on fumes at this point. Not sure any of it is sinking in.” He taps at his temple and Tech nods.

“Understood.”

“Plus, we’re only a few klicks away from base and I need you to organize your part of the debrief.”

Tech nods before flipping the datapad back open and beginning to splice together the data he’d collected during recon.

------

You’ve been on Anaxes for two weeks. It still felt foreign, sleeping in the depths of the caverns the base had been built in and around was seriously beginning to mess with your internal clock. No windows to show you night or day, no warming from the sun or cooling as twin moons rose into the sky. You’d never been so thankful for your chronometer. It was hard to sleep as you adjusted to the new environment. While it left you exhausted you also had yet to be late for your shifts already up before you chrono had to wake you. You’d consider it a win.

You were weary of seeing clones on the edge of death, mangled and passed off to you like they were no more than broken droids, only their brothers and a few of the generals seeming to worry about their well being. It wasn’t right. You’re heart hurt and while the other staff had either their clone brothers or other civilians to cling to you seemed to be left to your own devices, as if everyone else could just sense that you weren’t like them. Like on Kiros.

Your people believed only the strong survived. If you couldn’t keep up the Togruta left you behind. Your belief in the value of life made you an outsider within your own tribe. You believed life needn’t validate itself to matter. Simply existing in the first place gave it meaning.

It was a highly unpopular opinion.

The sheer number of casualties you saw roll in daily was another change from your post on Coruscant. Generally, by the time you’d seen the troopers there they’d been stabilized and needed supportive care. Anaxes brought you the worst of the worst straight from the front lines. The GAR was taking mass losses, entire squads destroyed in the blink of an eye without warning. You’d lost count of the number of Clones who’d taken their last breath in your presence. You’d never experienced anything like it on Coruscant and your training had done nothing to truly prepare you for the crushing feeling each loss brought to you and the rest of the medical staff.

You swish your mug around before bring it to your lips taking another swallow of caf. It had gone cold long ago, forgotten when the last emergency had rolled through the doors. You fantasized about a hot mug of it to soothe your throat. You kept up a steady stream of talk when you worked.  Your patients always knew exactly what you were doing and your colleagues knew exactly what you were seeing. You’d heard some other medics comment on how annoying it was but you were never going to be accused of not communicating effectively, not when troopers lives could depend on it.

 A side effect of hours of talking were often a scratchy, dry throat and a hoarseness that silenced you for the rest of the day. It was ok. Outside of the medbay you were never really sure what to say. Your confidence in your professional skill did not cross over to personal affairs. 

“Y/N?” It was one of the clone medics, Kix, from the 501st. He was amiable enough and seemed easy to get along with the few times you’d worked together.

The empty mug was set aside, to be forgotten till a later time when desperation drove you to more of the swamp water that sat bubbling bitterly in the break room.

“I’ve got a squad coming in off a recon run. They’re due for a once over so the powers that be are going to send them down after debrief.” Kix looked on edge as he spoke and you cocked your head trying to figure out what he was saying between the lines.

“You want me to do it?” You knew how to do what he was asking, you just weren’t sure why he was asking you of all people.

“Uh, the boys in 99 don’t much care for other clones.”

That was a new one.

“I can do it Kix” you nod reassuringly. “Don’t worry, ok?” A knot was beginning to tangle in your stomach. You brush off the feeling and try to give the clone your most reassuring smile. 

Clones that didn’t like other clones? You hadn’t heard of such a thing outside of the Coruscant Guard. 

Those guys were dicks.

Kix seems relieved, running a hand over his face roughly “I owe you. I’ll have them sent over to Exam 3 when they’re done?”

“Make it 5” you correct “they’re still getting blood off the floor in 3 and 4”

-----

Crosshair is spitting mad by the time The Bad Batch is dismissed from Cody’s debrief and Tech can’t figure out why. He just had to acknowledge that  pissed off was simply the sniper’s default setting. Tech figures he’s mad no one was willing to take the bait and give him the fight he was looking for.

To his left Hunter seemed as relaxed as Hunter could be, ever vigilant eyes scanning the halls as they traveled. 

Per usual, Wrecker was all smiles (if maybe slightly menacing ones) as they entered the lift down to medical.

Tech was pleased. He’d been told the intel would be useful. No one had insulted anyone. No punches had been thrown. It all seemed pretty good as far as he was concerned. All they had to do now was do a quick medical check and they were good to go for at least a solid day of rest before their next assignment. he falls in behind the others while they queued into a single file in front of him, each dipping into the room in turn for their scan. Hunter is in and out before Tech can blink, same for Crosshair. 

Wrecker was never the best behaved for the medical staff. He just didn't like medical. Tech couldn't blame him.  Hunter and Crosshair wait for a few minutes, making sure they weren’t needed to calm the big man down, before the excuse themselves to the small barracks the four of them called home.

Tech uses the wait to browse the holonet for anything that might pique his curiosity and bookmarks a couple things to look into once he could crawl into his rack.

When Wrecker pops out of the exam room with a sucker tucked into his cheek some twenty minutes later without any shouting following him, Tech takes notice.

“It’s stormfruit, man” Wrecker hums around the sucker “I like this one” He tips his head back toward the exam room as one big mitt cuffs Tech on the shoulder, knocking him back a step as he passes by. 

Tech doesn’t bother to take his helmet off when a bright voice calls “Next!” 

He’s greeted by the sight of a dimpled Togruta smiling up at him from her spot on a stool.

“Hey you must be…” she glances quickly at her datapad resting on her crossed knee “Tech?”

The voice is exceedingly familiar but he doesn’t know the face as she motions to the table. His feet stutter step as he moves further in the exam room, taking a seat on the table the composite of his armor clanks loudly. 

“Long day?” The medic asks and he nods, eyes narrowed as he rifles though his mental files. He knew that voice.

“You're not gonna give me trouble like the last one, right?” She starts, “it took me half a dozen lollys to convince him to let me scan him. I’m starting to think he played me, ya know?”

He nods again.

“You don’t talk much do you? Nexu got your tongue?”

Tech huffs quietly, flipping his visor up to view her without the incandescent screen in the way.

“I think you're the only person that’s ever said that.” He chuckles.

She beams at him, squinting and searching his face.

“Yeah? I won’t complain about being your first.” She teases before her cheeks, already a rich color, flush brightly. When she smiles nervously he sees the quick pearly flash of her incisors. He liked the way she smiled at him. It makes his stomach flip in a vaguely familiar way.

That’s when the data points come together. The realization hits him.

He’d often wondered what Grutababy looked like, curiosity only reaching a fever pitch after their conversation on the comms. He’d lay awake at night, while his brothers slept and try to piece together what she might look like, cursing himself for never once asking for a picture. 

His mind would run through the many sentient species he was familiar with as he’d try to place the voice from their lone conversation to it it had become a game. Twi’lek, Mirialan, human… Togruta?

It makes sense now, her profile name. Grutababy. Really it shouldn’t have taken a genius level IQ to figure that out. 

He watches her lekku sway gently as she moves through the room. Her skin, somewhere between red and pink, reminds him of a sunset he’d once seen on an outer rim planet, the name of which he’s since forgotten. 

The white markings of her people cross from one temple to the other, circling her eye like a mask. Others travel in soft swooping lines from the outer corners of her eyes down, crossing at plump lips and fading out at her chin. A small diamond shaped mark rests above each brow. 

Her eyes are a pale, icy blue. The overall effect is… stunning. 

She was more beautiful than he could have ever imagined (and he’d tried).

“This may sound weird-” she hums” her fingers fumble for her scanner, nearly dropping it off the counter. Frowning, she taps it against the heel of her palm when it refuses to turn on.

Once. 

Twice.

Three times.

Tech winces, wants to tell her that there was no evidence that treating a device like that would make it work. On the contrary it would often-

The scanner buzzes to life and a triumphant smile lights her features.

“Like, I was saying, it may sound weird. I just get the feeling….”

Tech swallows hard.

She lets out a nervous laugh and waves it off, “Nevermind, ignore me. Not enough sleep or caf and I’m imagining things”

Something akin to disappointment filters through his chest as she rubs the back of a montrail nervously. He wonders if he should tell her? She interrupts his train of thought with a deep breath and the moment has passed. She's all business now as she adjusts the scanner in her grip.

“So Trooper, how about we get your scan done and you can go get the sleep that I’m not.” 

[tibbinswrites]

Prompt #170: Part 3

So @day-fire​ asked (fist slammed a table) for a part three and made grabby hands... how could I leave those grabby hands empty? I’ve now done prompts for: #1, #2, #4 and #16, #9, #10, #20, #33, #77, #78, #170 (part 1), (part 2), (part 3), #327 and #502 and I’ve finally completed my backlog so I’m not accepting any more prompts at this time.

Also, just in case you weren’t aware, I’m part of an incredible destiel fanfic, art and podfic anthology. Our indegogo page is live here and there are tiers ranging from simply gorgeous PDF copies and all the podfics to beautiful print books with a bunch of other merch like bookmarks and art prints. We are now FULLY FUNDED so this project is a go! Everyone who buys a printed copy of the book now shall definitely be receiving one (and hey, maybe even a hardback one if we make it to 143% funded).

So here it is. The third (and final) part to the original prompt: “Why are you doing this to yourself?”

I hope you like it ^_^ Read the first part here

Read the second part here

Before Chuck’s body even had time to cool (metaphorically of course, there hadn’t been an actual corpse left behind once Jack was through with him), Billie showed up.

“Well done,” she said in that perpetually-sarcastic-yet-somehow-still-serious tone of hers. “You actually did it. I have to admit I’m surprised, it was touch and go there for a while.”

“Okay,” Dean immediately shifted from one fight to the next as he turned to confront Death. “We followed your plan, did your thing and we won. So now, you owe us.”

Watching Billie’s face transform into shocked indignation was worth the demand all by itself.

“My thing?” She said, drawing herself up to her full height, a crackle of dark energy seemed to buzz around her for a moment. “My thing was saving the world, the world that you all live on. I believe that what you mean to say is ‘Thank you’. I owe you nothing and our alliance is done.”

“That’s not how I see it,” Dean insisted stubbornly. “You going after Chuck was more personal than doing us a solid. He was messing with your books and your big picture plan so your beef with him wasn’t exactly altruistic.”

“Dean, what are you doing?” Sam murmured in his ear, stepping forward to grab his shoulder but Dean shook him off, his eyes only on Billie.

“Well you’ve got balls, Winchester, I’ll give you that,” she allowed, looking more amused now than anything, which Dean counted as a win because, you know, even by his standards, he knew that pissing off Death was a monumentally stupid idea. Even Sam’s presence retreated from his side, back towards Jack. “Go on then, tell me. What is it you want? Aside from… oh, I don’t know, your lives, the lives of seven billion people, your entire universe, and of course the fact that your future is your own again. Because none of that counts if my perceived motivation isn’t up to your very hypocritical standards.”

Okay, so maybe she was a little pissed. Nonetheless, Dean ploughed through, his hands balled at his sides, ignoring the warning looks from his family.

“The point is—”

“Just ask me for the favour, Dean,” Billie interrupted smoothly. “It does you no credit to be making demands with faulty logic to try and save yourself a debt. Either I’ll help you or I won’t, but I’ll be more likely to be on your side if you stop insulting me.”

Dean hesitated at that and swallowed hard. She was right, but that didn’t make it any easier. Sure, he made skeevy deals all the time that almost always backfired but at least he usually expected them to. Quid pro quo was something that he understood well. In this life you had to be willing to give a lot to get a little back. Straight up asking for help from a cosmic entity though? That was new, humiliating territory. He had nothing that she wanted from him anymore. He could ask, hell, he could beg, but he knew as well as she did that he had no leverage to stop her from just walking away.

“I want Cas freed of his deal.”

“Dean!” That was Cas, stepping forward, his face filled with compassion and gratitude as he moved into Dean’s line of sight and Dean’s face flooded with heat that Cas could look at him that way, that Cas could still look at him that way. “You don’t have to do this for me.”

“I’m not doing anything,” Dean said, dragging his eyes back to Billie, who was watching them carefully. “I got nothin’ to bargain with, you know that. You don’t want our lives or souls or whatever. Chuck’s already dead and you don’t care if we’re happy or not. I’m just asking, please. Break the deal.”

Billie considered him for a long time, her dark eyes taking him in, taking in Cas and then she was looking past them to where Sam and Jack probably stood before falling back on him. He briefly wondered what she saw… she didn’t like him all that much he was sure and if he had learned anything about her it was that she didn’t do anything that contradicted with whatever her big picture was. What Dean was asking was a pretty heavy shift of the way the stage had been set. But he couldn’t let her just leave without taking what might be his only shot to save the man he loved.

Finally, Billie sighed and took a step back, her grip shifting on her scythe.

“I can’t.”

Dean tried not to wilt, resolutely did not look at Cas. He didn’t want Cas to see the apology in his eyes, the failure.

The entire room was still, not even the dust motes seemed to move. Which was ironic really considering the fact that the world Dean had just helped save was starting to fracture around him.

Dean felt a warm hand on his arm then and a soft voice in his ear.

“Dean, it’s alright.”

“No!” He turned on Cas with all the fury he wanted to direct at Billie, at the Empty. “It’s not alright! How can you just stand there and tell me that you’re fine with being miserable for the rest of your life? How can you justify that? How can you?” he jabbed an accusing finger at Billie, who stared back, impassive in the face of his rage. “After what he’s done for this world, and his part in your plan—which was freaking huge by the way, he did way more than any of us—how can you just stand there and tell me that he doesn’t deserve to be happy?!”

“Deserve has nothing to do with it,” Billie told him calmly. “I told you, I can’t break the deal, because I wasn’t the one to make it. I can, however, make a call.”

And with that, her eyes rolled up into her skull, leaving the blank whites staring out at them all. Disconcerted, Dean glanced around at the others. Cas was still next to him, his presence solid, his eyes almost hopeful. Sam had herded Jack nearer the door in case they needed to bolt, though Dean knew that was more for appearance and instinct’s sake, neither of them were going anywhere, no matter how hairy things got. Jack was staring at Billie, looking pleased if not relaxed. Sam’s eyes met his and Dean wasn’t surprised by the conflict he saw there. He felt it too. He knew as well as Sam did that if he put all his hopes in this and it didn’t pan out, it would destroy him. Sam would back his play, of course he would, he wanted Cas to be happy and safe as much as Dean did, but Dean could see the deep concern there that he knew wasn’t for Cas. He looked away, back to Billie, whose irises were slowly sliding back into place, and the growing puddle of darkness that was beginning to materialise on the concrete floor.

Dean watched, feeling increasingly sick as the black, liquid-looking substance bubbled and rose and solidified into a vaguely humanoid form. There was no face, which was disconcerting as all hell, and the thing’s limbs were just a little too long and… wobbly to be truly human. It was making his brain fuzz over just looking at it. He felt Cas’ grip tighten on his arm.

“What do you want now?” The thing whined, it’s non-face turned in Billie’s direction. It’s voice was perhaps the most surprising thing about it, it was high pitched and nasal (which was impressive considering the thing’s lack of nose) with a slant to the words that Dean couldn’t place. He supposed ‘afterlife dimension’ came with its own accent.

“The angel wants out of his deal,” Billie said. “The humans wish to make what I’m sure will either be a heartfelt plea or some kind of threat.”

“You called me for that? Isn’t this over? Hmmm... I have God and His sister all nicely tucked away and sleeping. Why am I still awake?”

“Look...” Dean said to the goo-creature, and the head swivelled around on a too-loose neck. He stared at where he thought the eyes should be, trying not to be creeped out by the fact he had no idea if his gaze was being returned or not. He also wasn’t sure what tack to try here. He had no more leverage over this thing than he did the Grim Reaper, would it respect a strong stance or was grovelling the way to go? He would do it, if that’s what it took to let Cas live the rest of his life chasing joy. Hell, he would get down on his knees if it meant that he could finally return the words Cas had voiced not three weeks ago. His mind was spinning, but coming up a blank.

So Sam stepped up, taking slow, measured steps to stand at Dean’s other shoulder. “You’ve helped us out before, done Jack a solid when you let him come back and we appreciate that. We also know that you’ve got some issues with Cas and we’d really like to resolve those so that… so you don’t take him.”

“Yeah,” Jack piped up, moving to Cas’ other side. “We’d really rather he stay with us. Without giving up his happiness.”

“Cas is the main reason you still have a place to go back to,” Dean added. “Can’t you just give him a pass? More than anyone he’s earned that.”

“The little shit woke me up!” The creature screeched at them out of its non-mouth. “I haven’t been woken up in the history of ever until that feathered moron came along. All he had to do was sleep, yes, and he couldn’t even do that! So I’m taking him when I damn well please. I gave up my legitimate claim to you, nephilim, just to squeeze out every drop of revenge. You think I’ll go back on that now? Oh, no, no, no, not when the due date is so close, am I right?”

Dean blinked, suddenly getting the feeling that the Empty had stopped talking to them at some point and had started addressing Cas, who he felt perfectly still beside him.

“Am I right, angel?” The thing cooed, “You almost have your happy, don’t you? You’re holding it back by a mere membrane. And now it stands right next to you and tries to get me to change my mind. That has to be nice… seeing how he cares. How they all care.”

Cas said nothing, but in a quick glance Dean saw his lips press together, his eyes lower. The submission hurt Dean more than any outburst of rage at this creature who had stolen all the things that people lived for, everything that Cas had fallen for and given so much of himself to protect. It wasn’t fair that he was now just as cut off from it as when he was a mindless automaton. He should be angry.

“I appreciate what you’re trying to do for me,” he said, still looking down at the floor. “But if this deal breaks, Jack’s soul is forfeit, and I can’t—”

“No it’s not.”

Every head turned to look at Billie, who was the picture of nonchalance, except for the gleam in her eye. “Jack’s soul will go to heaven.”

The Empty spluttered. “I think you’ll find nephilim are my jurisdiction.”

“They are,” Billie agreed, “but Jack’s not a nephilim anymore. Is he?”

Dean gaped in Jack’s direction. The kid frowned, then looked like he was concentrating really hard on something, and then surprise lit his features. “I’m human?”

“Your power was what was needed to defeat God,” Billie explained. “The exact amount of your power. No more, no less. It was never really yours anyway, it was inherited from your father. But you disowned him and chose a father of your own.” She nodded towards Castiel. “That severed the power from you, made your human soul separate from the archangel grace. In reality, Chuck was fighting two of you, Jack, and He was only able to destroy one. Of course, He thought the one worth destroying was the one with the power, leaving you as the other. Pure human. Which,” she smiled at the Empty, “is my jurisdiction.”

If the Empty had a face, Dean was pretty sure it would be glaring fire at Billie. “You’re on their side?” It screeched. Dean winced at the piercing volume. “You want me to break the deal. What? Are you going to keep me awake until I obey, yes? You can’t pull that lever twice, Reaper. I helped you with the old man and the dark one all on the promise that once this was over you’d let me sleep and I know you to be a being of your word.”

“You’re right,” Billie said evenly. “I will keep my promise, regardless of whether or not you help the angel. But I would prefer it if you did. As a favour.” Her eyes flicked briefly to Dean’s at that and a newfound well of respect for Billie threatened to spill out of his dumb mouth. He swallowed it back. He was pretty sure she could see his gratitude. She had already helped them by calling the Empty here, and it would have been more than fair for her to leave them to do the convincing, which he was pretty sure wouldn’t have worked on its own.

The Empty seemed to consider that; clearly weighing the benefit of having Death owe it one against whatever pleasure it would gain from torturing Cas. The decision took far longer than Dean was comfortable with and something snapped in him at the tense silence. His hand found Cas’ and he held it tight, ignoring the surprised look that melted into fondness on his left. He felt a hand land on his opposite shoulder and looked up into Sam’s face. There was a soft smile there, and pride, but there was a twitch in his eyebrow that begged him not to entwine himself so deep that he couldn’t disentangle himself if this all went to shit. Dean couldn’t bring himself to tell him that it was far, far too late for that.

“Hmmm...” The Empty said. “Well… There it is. Looks like Castiel just cashed in his happy.”

Dean’s head snapped around. Cas was looking at him, beaming really. His eyes glittering in the low light, radiant in a way that was different from his grace and far more beautiful. The hand in his gave a gentle squeeze, though there was fear in those eyes now, his moment of pure joy eclipsed by the fact that this could all be gone with his next blink. Dean brought his other hand around to clasp their already joined ones, as if he could just hold tight enough, then nothing could make him let go.

Seeing Cas afraid was like an icy fingertip sliding down his spine. He turned back to the Empty, readying himself to throw a punch or to prostrate himself on the ground and beg, or start another goddamn apocalypse just to draw the fear from those blue, bottomless eyes. It couldn’t end like this, not when they were on the precipice of whatever this promised to be, not when they could finally, finally start living for themselves.

“Please,” Dean said, his voice thick and unwieldy in his mouth. “Please let him stay with me.”

The creature hummed again, an irritating sound that buried into his skull. “Alright.”

It flicked one of its (too bendy) arms in Cas’ direction and the angel cried out in pain, dropping to the floor like a sack of bricks and dragging Dean down too where their hands were still clasped.

“Cas!” Dean yelled as Cas began a low moan that rose in volume and pitch and agony until it was a scream, and then his back arched so dramatically Dean heard it crack, and Cas’ eyes widened to the point of popping. In the next painful convulsion, Cas ripped his hand away from Dean’s.

“Cas!” Dean cried again, scrambling to get it back, to offer what little comfort he could. If these were going to be Cas’ last moments, Dean couldn’t bear the thought that he would have to endure them alone.

Cas’ lips were moving, but all that was escaping was a wordless scream. Dean shook his head, not understanding as Cas’ agitation only grew. He looked around at each member of his family crouched next to him, and terror dominated his expression.

“Eyes!” The word was strangled. “Help—”

Suddenly, the sound of Cas’ screams cut out at the same moment the world turned black. Dean’s vocal chords strained around Cas’ name, around Sam’s name, but he couldn’t hear either. He felt Cas in front of him, writhing and solid and silent, felt the hard concrete under his knees, felt the fabric of a jacket as he reached out blindly with his other hand. But all he saw was blackness. Fear roared inside him. He couldn’t see his family, he didn’t know what was happening to Cas. Had he gone blind? Deaf? Was Cas looking to him for a final comfort?

Worst of all was when Cas’ hand went limp.

Dean was pretty sure he was losing his mind. He was sure he was screaming, sure he was yelling himself hoarse, cursing the Empty, Billie, God. He dropped his hand from what he was pretty sure was Sam’s shoulder and moving it to his own face. He felt wetness there, sweat or tears he wasn’t sure. All he knew was that Cas wasn’t moving and he had no idea what to do except clutch that hand in between both his own and hope.

Just as suddenly as it had vanished, sound returned. He heard his own name in Sam’s voice and a moment later, his brother’s scared face materialised in front of him, and Jack was there too, his own face pale and scrunched in confusion and discomfort as he shook himself. There was also a horrible, burbling sound that it took him far too long to realise was coming from him. He took a deep breath to stop it and looked over at where the Empty and Billie had been stood.

They were gone.

“What the hell was that?” Dean asked, his voice raspy and worn out.

“No idea,” Sam said, looking a little ill. “But it really sucked.”

“Yeah.” As the adrenaline leaked away from his brain, leaving his extremities tingling, he flexed his hand and found he was still holding onto something.

Cas!

With a jolt, Dean looked at the still figure lying on the ground. His eyes were closed and there were black shapes on the floor extending from his shoulders.

“No,” He moaned, squeezing his eyes shut again, flashbacks of a cabin, of another joyous moment turned to ash, of a grief so heavy he’d buckled under it the first time, how could anyone ask him to even lift it now?

He heard Sam swallow next to him, clearly floundering for whatever words he thought Dean needed to hear.

He heard Jack’s breath hitch, then. “Wait. Look!”

Dean blinked heavily. Jack was staring at the black marks, then he reached forward and picked up a feather. Four inches long and inky black, the thing gleamed in the poor light. Despite the urgent pleas of his heart, Dean looked more closely at what he had assumed to be just scorch marks. There were more feathers. Loads of them, filling in gaps in the patchy outlines of Cas’ wings. They were how Cas’ wings had looked the last time Dean had seen their shadows; there weren’t enough feathers to make the wings complete, Cas had shed plenty over the years after all, but there were still dozens of them. All the feathers Cas had had left, if Dean were to guess. He didn’t know what to make of it and although he could hear Sam’s brain whirring as it tried to put the pieces together, Dean couldn’t quite bring himself to care what it meant. He leaned over Cas and smoothed the hair back from his forehead, numbness crawling its way along Dean’s limbs and tightening around his nerves. He arranged the body how he would if the pyre was already built, pretty sure someone was talking around him but unable to take any of it in. He adjusted the coat, laid Cas’ hands carefully by his sides, fixed the tie.

While he did that last one, his hand passed over Cas’ chest and he felt a flutter beneath his fingertips. He paused for a second and felt it again. Hope surged through him so fast it was painful. He pressed his palm to Cas’ chest and waited. Please, please, please, please, please.

Thump.

“He’s alive!”

Dean began to gently tap his fingers against Cas’ cheek, calling for him over and over again, his other hand feeling the steady, human beat of Cas’ heart.

“Come on, sweetheart, wake up.”

Cas groaned, the most wonderful sound that had ever graced Dean’s ears. All the air escaped him as Cas began to twitch, his eyelids fluttered and he blinked them open.

“I love you too,” Dean blurted out, physically unable to keep the words in any more. “I love you so freaking much Cas, and I’m real glad you’re not dead.”

“Me too,” Cas said blearily, pushing himself to a sitting position, only to be bowled over again by Dean launching himself into his arms. Corny or not he couldn’t help it. He needed to hold him, surround himself in Cas’ warmth and Cas’ smell and Cas’ love. He needed to feel the life around them. “You make me very happy, Dean.”

Dean said nothing, but he shoved his face in closer to Cas’ neck.

After a few moments he deemed himself recovered enough to pull back and help Cas to his unsteady feet. Jack moved in for the next hug and Cas’ eyes went soft with wonder as he embraced his son, finally allowed to feel the joy that such a gesture brought. Sam was next, pulling him into a sasquatch-worthy bone-crushing hug and whispering something that Dean couldn’t catch, though their grins were bright and a little teary as they separated.

Cas then looked down at the feathers scattered on the ground and bent to gather a few. “Angel feathers can be useful spell ingredients,” he said by way of an explanation as he stuffed them into his coat pocket. “And it’s not as though I have a use for them anymore.”

“You know, we could try and find a way… if you wanted...” Dean started to offer, and even though Dean wasn’t sure if the Empty had completely destroyed Cas’ grace or what and had no idea how to even start that quest, he knew with certainty that he would find a way if that was what Cas chose.

Cas was already shaking his head, a small smile on his lips.

“No. I think… I think I’m tired of being an angel. I don’t want to watch humanity anymore, I want to be a part of it. I want to enjoy this, every moment that I get to love and be loved in return is a treasure I never could have imagined before I met you.”

“So… home?” Dean asked, more than ready to start building the rest of his life with his brother, his son and this newly-human man who had never looked like more of an angel to him.

Cas nodded and reached for him, slotting their fingers together.

“Home.”