#But yeah I was doing that judgement for the umpteenth time and then I was suddenly like... Wait a minute? 😂

[108garys]

Avvar Rook?

So Movran the Under's whole clan can pick up and relocate to the silent plains at least a decade ago? All of them, kids and all? And they can actually do pretty well in their new territory? And by the time of veilgaurd children would be grown, youths just starting out would be seasoned and all would have a solid chance to hypothetically interact with northern thedas cultures? don't ruin this for me bioware

Ignore the rush job and see the vision I was suddenly struck with(I know the locations aren't 100% accurate)

Obviously a warden could be conscripted/recruited anywhere but I do feel like taking advantage of Edvarr hold being relocated opens the path for a lot of interesting potential role playing/characterization for Rooks of any age, here's hoping that height and voice pitch slider is all they're selling it as and perhaps a tendency towards more blunt dialogue choices would help but I do feel a person could find creative reasons why someone from Movran's clan would end up in any of the available factions

I don't usually post in the dragon age tag but I had to get this idea out and I hope you like it 😊

[igot-the-juice]

The Scarred - Chapter 9

Masterlist

Summary - Penelope Miller works at a florist shop in Gotham, barely getting by in the corrupted city. Her life is shrouded by trauma and judgement with little light to find her way with. However, when a certain painted face starts making himself known to her, things take a turn.

“You okay, Penny?” Emma questioned, seeing the woman in question begin to nod off. She quickly sat up and rapidly blinked.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just didn’t get much sleep, that's all.” She responded, which wasn’t really a lie at all. Liam had tried to convince her to call in to take the day off, but Penelope couldn’t do that to Emma. That and she worried it would come off as suspicious since she rarely ever does it, and even more so given recent events that have been occurring at the shop itself.

“Is something bothering you, hun?” Emma asked gently, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“No, I’m okay,” She turned to face her. “Promise.” She smiled, and thankfully it was returned before the older woman walked away. Penelope let out a sigh of relief, massaging her temple.

They received more customers than usual that day, thankfully. It helped to both keep her awake and distract her from her thoughts, which grew to be a harder task as of late. By the time the work day drew to a close, Penny was practically sleepwalking. Zombified and depleted of energy, she waved off Emma in a goodbye before she turned to leave.

As she passed an alleyway, thinking all was well and would finally return home to relax, she gasped when something snatched her jacket and pulled her in.

“I did some thinking - y’know?” A familiar voice tossed up her stomach with nerves. She turned to look up at the painted face that greeted her - however much of a greeting it was.

“You scared the hell out of me!” She whisper-yelled in exasperation, her adrenaline throwing all caution to the wind regardless of who was in front of her.

“I think you oughtta have these than myself.” He continued on, completely ignoring what she said. She looked down and saw the handgun and knives from last night.

“You couldn’t have done that last night rather than snatching me and giving me a heart attack?”

“You’re alive, aren’t cha?” The Joker dismissed as if it was the most simple thing. Penelope couldn’t help but roll her eyes to his amusement and he hummed.

“Gettin’ a little bold after last night, don’t cha think?” His voice was flat, yet somehow still held a joking undertone. Penelope grew fidgety, mentally slapping herself for forgetting who she was talking to.

“I’m sorry, it’s been a long day.” She nearly whispered with a downcast gaze.

“Ah, I’m just messing with ya, doll!” The Joker cackled. “But seriously, take these, I don’t want em.” She greatly hesitated before gently taking them from his hands, looking at them for a moment and putting them in her satchel.

“Thank you -“

“I’m going to give a wild guess and say you don’t have a single gun at your place?”

“I mean, I don’t, but -“

“Ah-ta-ta-ta.” He cut her off, placing a finger over her lips.

“Don’t got time for chit-chat, toots, but uh -“ He looked around for a second before leaning in closer to her as if he was telling a secret. “We can save that for later, hm?” He winked with a click of his tongue and gave her a couple of small pats on her head before turning to leave. “Don’t wait up for me!” He hollered over his shoulder and disappeared off to who knew where with a skip.

Penelope just stood in the alleyway confused as ever for the umpteenth time. If she wasn’t awake before, she definitely was now. She turned to make her way back to the main sidewalk, this time bumping into someone else.

“Oi, there ye are!”

“For fuck’s sake!” She gasped once again, hand over her chest. Liam frowned and steadied her.

“First of all, that’s my line. Second, the hell were ye doin in an alley?” He gently coaxed her to start their walk back to their apartment complex.

“Too tired to explain right now.”

“Alright, fair enough. Guess it’s not a good time to say ‘I told you so’ then?” Penelope gave him a side eye and he held up his hands in defense. “Okay, okay. Quiet time it is.”

When the two of them reached her apartment and stepped inside, they were quick to get comfortable and relax on the couch. The TV hummed in the background at a low volume, soothing the two of them as Penelope began to fall asleep in Liam’s lap, the latter playing a game on his phone mindlessly.

No matter how close the woman was to sleep, though,, her body fought back. Her mind raced with scattered thoughts, a heavy sigh leaving her lips catching Liam’s attention.

“What’s on yer mind, lovin?”

“Too much.” She answered simply. Liam took his turn to sigh.

“Still too tired to talk about it?”

“The Joker is supposed to be dangerous…” She whispered mindlessly. Liam tensed at first and put down his phone. She continued once he began to caress her hair. “And yet I can’t shake that I feel safe with him.” Penelope turned in his lap, head facing up at him as she stared at the ceiling. “I don’t know how else to describe it. But something about him just feels so familiar, Liam. Like a reminder of something I can’t remember.”

“Aye. I know the feelin’, believe me.” He shifted as he thought. “If he wanted ye dead, he would’ve done so already. It’s a gruesome thought, but I believe it’s the truth.” He looked down at Penelope who met his gaze of understanding.

“But what if he has an ulterior motive? What if he’s just using me?” She watched as Liam began to shake his head.

“He doesn’t seem the type. Not patient enough from what we’ve seen on the news. Seems to me that if he wants something, he just goes fer it. The man won’t take ‘no’ for an answer.” There was a moment of silence, the two of them sitting in contemplation, coming up with scenario after scenario where something could go wrong. But none of them seemed realistic in comparison to what had happened so far.

Days passed with no contact from the Joker or his men, much to her surprise. Days turned into a couple of weeks. Penelope just assumed that he was either too busy or got bored of her. She wasn’t sure which would have been a better explanation.

In a way, she missed his odd encounters. Before him, her life was boring, for lack of a better word. It was the same routine over and over and over. Granted, Liam tossed things up from time to time. But she eventually grew used to that, as well.

Penelope decided to switch things up herself after some days. She found a target range not too far away where she could continue her practice with the knives and handgun, Liam joining her from time to time.

It wasn’t until a while after that he came up with an idea.

“Come on.” The Irishman dragged the woman by her wrist to what looked like a gym of sorts.

“Liam, what’re we doing here -“

“You’ll see, ye twat, just come on.” As they entered the building, he scanned them in and took her upstairs, the smell making her nose twitch in discomfort. Once they reached the top, she was welcomed to an empty matted room. Her eye widened in surprise, unsure of what Liam was getting themselves into.

“The hell is this about?” He clicked his tongue in disapproval.

“Take off her shoes and coat and you’ll see. Stop asking questions, dammit!” He chuckled as he got ready himself and walked onto the mat.

Soon after she followed, giggling at the feeling of the mat beneath them like a child on a trampoline.

“Oi!” She snapped her head up to where he was and stood in front of him. “I figured since ye got them fancy knives and gun, we teach ye some real self defense, yeah?” Penelope’s eye shot wide open.

“Self defe -? You do realize I only have one arm, right?” Liam shrugged.

“All the more reason ye need it.” Penelope sighed and glanced away for a second, then took a deep breath.

“Okay fine, I’ll play.” He nodded with a reassuring grin.

“Right, Penny. First rule: self-defense isn’t about strength. It’s about leverage. Ye don’t need two arms er perfect vision fer this. It’s all about knowin’ how to use what ye’ve got.”

Penelope nodded, her single eye narrowing as she focused on him. Her missing left arm had made her hesitant, and the burns that marked her left side were a constant reminder of her limitations. But she needed to do this.

Liam stepped closer and motioned for her to raise her remaining arm. “Let’s start with balance. No matter what situation yer in, ye need a strong foundation. Feet shoulder-width apart. Right foot slightly behind, heel up. Keep that center of gravity low, but don’t lock yer knees.”

Penelope followed his instructions, her movements stiff but determined. She felt a slight shift in her body as she adjusted her stance. Liam circled her slowly, nodding his approval.

“Good. Now, if someone comes at ye from the front, yer not going to overpower em, but ye can use their own momentum against em. Grab my wrist with yer right hand.”

Penelope hesitated for a moment before grasping his wrist. Liam, much taller and stronger than her, didn’t resist at first, but then slowly applied pressure, mimicking an attacker’s force.

“When someone grabs ye, ye won’t have the leverage to just pull away,” He explained. “But what ye can do is use yer entire body to redirect the attack.” He gently guided her to pivot her hips and pull him off balance. “See? Ye use yer hips and shoulders to create force. That’s what keeps ye grounded and throws em off.”

Penelope felt the shift in weight and how Liam’s body tilted slightly as she pulled him off-center. Her eyes widened in surprise, a spark of confidence growing inside of her.

“Now, what if someone tries to take ye down?” Liam asked, stepping back and raising his hands as if to simulate a grab for her. “Yer instinct might be to pull away, but that just puts ye at a disadvantage. Instead, ye drop yer weight. Lower yer center of gravity, and they won’t be able to lift ye.”

He demonstrated, lunging toward her in slow motion. Penelope took a deep breath and bent her knees, dropping her weight as Liam had instructed. She felt him try to lift her, but she remained planted, like a rooted tree.

Liam grinned. “That’s it! Perfect. And while they’re strugglin’ to get a grip, that’s when ye go fer yer next move. Elbows, knees—anything hard and sharp. It’s not about bein’ clean. It’s about surviving.”

Penelope smirked slightly at that. “So… you want me to fight dirty?”

Liam’s eyes twinkled. “In Gotham? There’s no other way.”

He motioned for her to step back, giving her space. “Now, let’s try it with a punch. Someone’s swingin’ at ye from the right. What do ye do?”

Penelope tensed. Her left eye was no longer, and her missing arm meant her range of vision was limited. But Liam had thought of that.

“Ye can’t block with yer left, so ye have to move. Slip to the outside of their swing, stay low, and use yer shoulder to knock em off balance. That’s where yer right arm comes in.”

He swung at her slowly, exaggerating the motion so she could practice. Penelope sidestepped, dipping her head and bringing her right shoulder up to mimic the block.

Liam nodded in approval. “Good! Now follow up with yer right elbow—hard to their face er throat.”

Penelope did as he instructed, bringing her elbow up in a quick motion, though she hesitated at the last second. Liam chuckled. “Don’t hold back next time. You’ll need that speed and precision.”

They spent the next hour going over similar moves: how to throw a knee into an attacker’s gut, how to pivot and drive her elbow into someone’s ribs, how to avoid attacks from angles she couldn’t see. With each move, Penelope grew more confident, her hesitation slowly melting away.

Finally, Liam held up a hand, signaling for a break. “Yer gettin’ there, Penny. Ye’ve got the instincts. Now ye just need to trust yerself.”

Penelope wiped the sweat from her forehead with the back of her hand, breathing heavily but feeling more grounded than she had in a long time. “It’s… a lot to take in. But I want to keep practicing.”

Liam clapped her on the shoulder. “And ye will. Just remember, yer not as vulnerable as you think. Ye’ve been through hell and came out the other side. That’s more strength than any move I can teach ye.”

Penelope gave him a small, hearing him say something so endearing a rarity coming from him. Her eye glimmered, practically glazed over with emotion. “Thank you, Liam.”

More days passed. And more. But it wasn’t boring anymore, no. Liam and Penelope had been practicing her self-defense as often as they could without straining themselves, and eventually he decided to teach her offensive attacks as well should they be necessary.

It was obvious to her that he genuinely cared for her and her safety, understanding that he wouldn’t always be there to protect her. That much was clear. Though it was a welcomed respite, the Joker still lingered in the back of her mind.

No matter how long it had been since he visited, she couldn’t help but think that their encounters were far from over.

[sxdmoonchxld]

Operation: Pop The Cherry | JJK

Jungkook x Virgin!Reader

Genre: Smut

Warnings: rough bathroom sex, college au, unprotected sex, teasing, fingering, Jungkook has a virgin kink if you couldn’t tell by he title, lowkey sadistic JK, Gay BFF Jimin, mentions of alcohol and weed, brief mention of homophobia. bIG diCK Jungkook, more belly bulging, and I forgot what else

Word Count: 6.1k

Summary: Against you better judgement and thank to your best friend Jimin. You somehow agreed to let a stranger on campus known as the Cherry Popper, too well..pop your cherry.

Alternatively: You're a virgin. Jungkook has a fetish/kink for fucking virgins.

A/N: I guess i’ll keep putting this note until i stop reposting my old stories. I use to be lizardsocial, and this fic was previously called Game. You may still be able to find it somewhere on tumblr. I edited this fic heavily and it’s honestly a new story, but there are still some elements from the fic it used to be still in there. Unedited so please let me know of any mistakes or typos. Like, comment, reblog, let me know what you think. Enjoy!

_________________________________________

Bass boosted pop music seeped through the dense walls of the energetic room. Strobing bright colored beams danced to the rhythm of the music in mesmerizing synchrony. The musty odor of marijuana, booze, and sex-saturated air shrouded the room in a turbid veil, covering the sea of drunken undulating bodies packed in the cramped living room.  Empty beer cans and other various booze bottles mixed with burnt-out blunts accompanied the young adults. You groaned with irritation and disgust. You didn't want to be here, but to your chagrin, you had a promise to keep.

It wasn't a secret that the college nightlife was unquestionably not your type of 'scene.' You quite frequently elected to willingly engage most of your time in your freshman dorm, wrapped in your weighted burrito blanket. A nightstand stockpiled with all your favorite snacks, lights dimmed low, and lavender incense burning, filling your room with the aroma of relaxation. The perfect setting to binge-watch your favorite show for the umpteenth time, the shifting distorted brightness of your computer screen, projecting the scenes against your face. 

It's kind of funny how you got yourself into this mess in the first place. The one time you decide to take the chance and branch away from the alternate antisocial hermit, your personality had adopted as its own had come back to bite you in the ass. You admit, lately, you've been neglecting your best friend. Your reasonings generally varying from the classic 'oh I was sleep' to deliberately silencing your phone, not wanting to hear the constant shrill ringing of the default ringtone. You loved Jimin, you truly did, but you could only take so much of his eccentric mashup of bubblegum and rainbow sparkles that was his personality. Eventually, guilt began eating away at you piece by piece until you ultimately caved in and invited your friend over for an impromptu movie night in your dorm room. 

Not even 30 minutes into the movie, one that you had been dying to see, might you add, Jimin commenced his drunk and high chattering. He had already started 'pre-gaming' before he came over; Six shots of straight Vodka and 2 blunts. Every day you prayed for this man's liver and brain function; with how much he drank and smoke, you would think he needed it to function. 

"Oh! Oh! Bitttch. Did I tell you about that football player, I fucckked last week!" Jimin started slurring on certain words. You noticed his eyes were glossy and glazed over. 

"No, you didn't, Chim." You sighed, completely giving up trying to watch the movie. You would have to watch it on your alone time. 

"Reeaally?" Jimin slurred, a goofy grin uplifting his lips.

"Yes, really. You haven't told me." Amusement lightly coated your voice. 

"Welll, his name is T-tae, Tae-tae something. Hold on, it's coming to me." Jimin said, rubbing the sides of his temples, trying to remember the guys' name. 

"Taehyung! That's it!" Jimin shrieked, snapping his fingers in victory.

You looked at him startled. You remember Taehyung from high school. You didn't recall him being at this college, though. Well, it wasn't like you paid attention to many things outside your bubble anyway.

"Wasn't he homophobic as fuck in high school?" You asked, genuinely interested.

"Yeah, he was. Buttt I guess he was trying to cover up, that he was actually on the DL." Jimin smiled, whispering the last part.

"DL? What's that mean?" You inquired

Jimin looked at you with a look of betrayal. "It means he's on the down-low, meaning he didn't want anyone to know he's gay. Girrl, I'm too crossfaded to be explaining this to you."

You chuckled, " My bad, Chim. So was it good?"

"Fuck, no! Dick was straight trash. The only thing that saved him a little was that his dick was huge." Jimin said, wiping away a pretend tear from the corner of his eye. 

You laughed boisterously at that. If Jimin wasn't so adamant about becoming a professional dancer. He could seriously take up a career in comedy.

"Speaking of dick. When are you gonna get some?" Jimin asked, turning his body to face you completely. As you looked at him, you noticed his eyes seemed a bit clearer, and his face wasn't as red as earlier. Not only did Jimin drink like a fish and smoke like a chimney. He was somehow able to sober just as fast.

"Oh my god, Jimin. Please don't sta-"

"Mmm, no missy," Jimin said, wagging his finger in your face.

"Don't you hear it?" He said, cupping his hand around his ear as if he was straining to hear something.

"Hear what?" You replied, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms against your chest.

"The cobwebs and tumbleweed living in your cunt."

"Jimin!" You shrieked, slapping the arm closest to you.

"Don't Jimin me! You know it's true, I swear you're gonna be a 40-year-old virgin, and by the time you finally make the decision to have sex, it'll be too late!" Jimin yelled, stumbling to stand up from the couch.

"First off, ouch. I won't be a 40-year-old virgin. That's very insulting. Second, I do plan to lose it soon. I just haven't found the time or the right guy." You said, looking down at your feet shyly. You did want to lose your virginity, but with being an introvert with a mix of social anxiety and just a dash of seasonal depression for added flavor. It was hard even to get out of bed sometimes. Much less going out and trying to find someone to do the do with.

"Oh! Well, if that's all, then I got you covered, babe. Time? Next week Friday at Jihyo's dorm. As for the right guy, I know a dude. He has like a kink for that kind of thing." Jimin answered nonchalantly, now scrolling through his phone, probably on his social media page.

You looked at Jimin, head tilted to the side, confused. "What kind of thing?"

"Oh, you know fucking virgins and shit. Popping their cherries." He said, popping his "P's."

You sputtered, exasperated. What the fuck. You didn't kink shame, that was for losers, but he can't seriously expect you to do something like that.

"What the actual fuck. Jimin, are you serious?"  

"Deadly." He said, looking you square in your eyes. His tone of voice haven dropped an octave lower.

"Jimin no. I-i can't."

"Jimin, yes! Err, I mean _____ yes, you can! Come on, it's a once in a lifetime experience. Plus, it's not like he's a total stranger. I've known him since he was 8 years old. I use to babysit the little shit head." Jimin said, waving his hand in the air, trying to swat away a rogue fly.

"Wow, Chim. You know, now that you put it like it makes me feel a lot better about the situation." You said tone dripped in sarcasm

"Really?" Jimin squealed, a delighted twinkling in his eye.

"Of course not! Don't be stupid!" Offended, you gawked at Jimin. You swear sometimes he could be so dimwitted.

"Come on, please? At least meet him, and if the vibe is not right, then you can leave no harm done." Jimin pleaded, his attention back on you. Was it crazy that you were actually thinking about agreeing to this? Jimin did have a point. It was sort of a once in a lifetime opportunity. He did know the guy, and if you didn't like the vibe, then you could just bounce, right? Right?

Sighing in defeat, your hands dragged down your face and turned towards a pouting Jimin. Grabbing at his deflated shoulders, you shook her lightly, and with urgency in your voice, you spoke, "Alright goddammit! I'll do it, but you have to stay by my side the whole time, no running off, you understand!" 

You watched Jimin's face quirk into a sly smirk. You swore you could see the cogs in his brain churning. Damn, you were going to regret this. You had the tendency to make deals when pressured. Most of the time, those agreements ended up backfiring on you, confining you in the proverbial rock and a hard place. 

"Yay! Operation: Pop _____ Cherry has commenced. Okay, so will meet at the auditorium on the art campus. From there we will walk to Jihyo's dorm, it's only five minutes. Promise me you'll actually show up and won't flake on me." A complacent expression rested arrogantly on Jimin's features, a single pinky finger extended towards you. 

"Don't give this situation a not-so-secret code name. And I can't believe I'm saying this but, I promise." You agreed, interlocking pinky fingers, yours thumbs coming up to press against one another.

"So I'll meet you at the location Friday, don't be late, and wear something sexy. No granny clothes." he chirped, making his way to your front door.

"Wait! You're leaving already?" you frowned, looking at the clock on your wall. He's only been here for an hour, and 30 mins of it were spent persuading you to hurry up and lose your virginity. You didn't even get to finish the movie together.

"Sorry babe, but I have a dick appointment." he shrugged, putting his arms through the sleeves of his jacket.

"Can you at least tell me the name of the guy who's supposed to fuck me?" you huffed, honestly you were done for tonight. As soon as Jimin left, you were heading straight for bed.

"Oh yeah, how could I forget." Jimin slaps the center of his forehead. "He's a real cutie. I would fuck him if he wasn't as straight as an arrow." Jimin looks off to a far wall, eyeing it with jealousy.

"Just tell me his name, please." You pleaded. Oh yeah, that's definitely a headache forming. You could feel it already. Jimin snaps out of his daydreaming and spins his body towards you.

"Jungkook."

Time skip to a week later, and precisely as you suspected, what a mistake that whole conversation was. Now here you were at this fucking dorm party with people you didn't know or care to get to know. Jimin had left you as soon as he saw his next piece of ass. Restlessly you hauled down the short black dress that insisted on riding up your ass, the soles of your feet protesting in the slim heeled shoes. Floundering your way into the packed building, you couldn't help but query where Jungkook was. Jimin was supposed to get around to send you a picture of the mystery man, but that never happened. Funny how now was the best time you decided to question why exactly Jimin was your best friend.

"Well damn, the pictures Jimin sent me doesn't do you justice at all. You're fucking hot." You recoiled from the closeness of the voice, the heated breath sending chills skittering down your spine, and the hairs on the back of your neck ramrod straight. Heat spurred to your face when you whisked around to meet an absolutely gorgeous guy. Like unfairly gorgeous guy. You stared wide-eyed, taking in his chiseled facial features, paired with wide doe eyes and bunny smile decorating his face. Somehow, someway he's mastered looked soft and sexy at the same damn time. And fuck was that a dangerous combination for your pussy. Your heart too, but more so your cunt.

"U-uh, thanks? Who are you exactly?" You watch as he recoils back from your with a look of apprehension on his face.

"A-are you not ____?" he stutters cutely. You think you can see the beginnings of a blush burning his cheeks. You nod your head once to confirm his question. He stared at you a minute longer before you see the recognition spark in his chocolate orbs.

"Jimin didn't send you my picture did he?" Shaking his head with his eyes close, you get the courage the scan his face a bit more. Yeah. He's definitely blushing.

"Sorry. I guess seeing you here, I thought Jimin would have...prepared you better." Shaking your head from side to side because your words refused to come out. You watched as he backed up a bit further from your personal space and thrust his right hand out to you. 

"The name's Jungkook, or J.K. Whatever suits your taste."

With clammy hands, you taking his outstretched hand marveled at how it almost covers your hand. Now that he's moved back from you, you now had to chance to see how tall he really was. Maybe about 6 to 7 inches taller. You look down at his feet and eye his combat boot, perhaps a little shorter but still taller. And big, yeah, definitely bigger. His oversized black jacket did little to hide the broadness of his shoulders and chest. You let your eyes travel down the length of his body. You bet he's hiding some killer abs under his shirt. And holy fuck, his thighs.

"You like what you see, baby girl?" Teasing, he's teasing but God, if his voice didn't make you pussy throbbing pathetically. Whimpering slightly, you let out a meek "Yes." God, you hope he didn't hear that.

Much to your dismay, he did, hear you. How he heard you with the music as loud as it was, was a mystery to you. But you watched his pupils dilate, and his nostrils flare slightly. Jungkook tucks his bottom lip between his teeth as his eyes rake up and down your scantily clad body. His heated stare scrutinized across your body, intrigue exerting over him, as he analyzed the way the snug-fitting dress molded to the curves of your shape. He could tell you didn't do this often. His dick twitched in his jeans with enthusiasm. 

It's the increase in pressure of your hand that makes you realize you're still holding his hand. You go to retract your hand from his. However, yelp shrilly as he tugs you closer to his body. Both hands now resting on his chest, and his wrapped around your waist. Fuck, you could feel the warmth and coarseness of his hands through your thin dress. A spontaneous tremor racked your body. The heat-transmitting from his frame mixed with the floral yet musky undertone of his cologne made you somewhat featherbrained.

"Fuck, you're so soft." You squeak as he squeezes your waistline, pulling you even closer against his body. You were now putty in his hands.

"Jimin told you my....preferences, right?" his voice caressed your ear. Just a slight movement or subtle twitch, and his lips would be on your skin.

"Y-yeah, he did." It should be an embarrassment how frail and breathless you sounded, but that didn't matter.

Jungkook hid his smile behind your ear. This was just too easy. Just how he liked it. He almost felt bad- almost. He was gonna ruin you utterly and completely, mold the shape of cock in the walls of your pussy. His name spilling from your lips, voice going hoarse by how loud he would make you scream. Fuck he couldn't wait. He's had virgin's before, a lot of them. That's his whole M.O. The cherry popper, virgin fucker, whatever. Jungkook's heard all the names in the book. But there's just something about you, you just had an air of genuine innocence, and he couldn't wait to defile it. 

Jungkook pulls his head back, enough to where his eyes can trail over the bared skin of your neck, and the sprinkling of perspiration sparkling off the bright strobing lights, no doubt from nervousness. His tongue traced over his thin upper lip, watching the droplets of sweat spiral down the curve of your neck. He wanted to taste you. 

"Alright, then." He jerks his body away from you. You're no longer touching his chest, but his hands are still on your waist. 

"Let's enjoy the party before the fun really begins. Every done body shots before?" Jungkook spoke casually, undeterred by the way you recoiled back or the look of stupor on your face.

"W-what? B-body shots, why?" you squeaked, failing to keep from stuttering over your words. Is this how it's supposed to go? Is this normal? You're bewildered, and just a bit perturbed. Were you just imagining that sexual tension that was going on just moments ago? For sure, you thought Jungkook was gonna throw you over his shoulders and haul you off to the nearest unoccupied bedroom or bathroom. At that instant, you didn't care. 

Jungkook regarded the war of emotions wage across your features, merriment and strobing lights twinkling in his eyes. Fuck, you were cute, so desperate staring up at him with a pout on your face a puppy dog eyes. He could honestly just take you back to the closest room and fuck the shit out of you. But he wanted to play with his prey, a bit more. The wait made it that much more satisfying.

"Don't pout too much, baby girl or I may not be able to contain myself. Follow me. The table is this way."

Jungkook didn't indulge in answering any of your questions you rambled off at him, delighted to see you trailing on his heels like a lost pup. Jungkook directed you further into the dorm, and like a dog on a leash, you followed. In the center of a sparse room sat a scraped up black table. You observed the area. It was devoid of many people. The several that were present made no recognition of your proximity in their intoxicated state.

"So who's first?" Jungkook asked, setting the bottle of tequila, rim salt, and limes down on the table.

"U-uh, I don't know. I guess it doesn't matter." You shrugged hesitantly. You were way out of your element here.

"Perfect then, you first." Jungkook should be ashamed by how excited he was at getting to sample your skin. It looked smooth, felt soft when he had you in his arms, and would no doubt probably taste as sweet as it seemed. You nodded in docility, wandering over to crawl on top of the table, being attentive to your dress. You lay flattened against the table, shiverings racking your body as he began pouring a trail of salt between your cleavage. 

He poured himself a shot in the depression of your throat and tore the lime in half with his bare hands. Smirking at how you flinched when he thumped the liquor bottle down beside your head. Jungkook pushed the other half of the unevenly split lime towards your lips, a silent gesture to take the lime in your mouth. Jungkook watched as your lips curled gently around the hull of the green citrus. A flare of lust stirred in his loins at the action. He couldn't wait to see your lips stretched around the head of his cock. He observed your eyes clamped closed as he began dropping his head forward to your chest. It was adorable and innocent. He noted the way your lips slackened around the citrus in your mouth, your chest heaving in speed, the closer his tongue trailed to your neck.

You tasted splendid, just as sweet as he thought. The salt on your skin did nothing to deter your natural flavor. If anything, it enhanced your sweetness, rendering your skin damn near mouth-watering. Jungkook's ears perked at the breathless moans slipping past the fruit perched against your lips, drawn out by the repeated pass of the wet, pink appendage lapping at the salt line between the valley of your breast. Committing your muffled moans to memory, he lapped persistently at the collection of salt and tequila in the hollow at the base of your neck.

You face flammed in embarrassment as panting moans effortlessly tumbled from your mouth. Who knew your chest and neck was such an erogenous spot. Despite your shame, you couldn't stop wriggling, shifting your thighs together for some form of friction to sate the rising arousal dampening your panties. You yelped at the sensation of blunt teeth nibbling at your skin before soft lips came to suck at the shallow indentations. Fluffy hair with an undercut came into your line of vision as Jungkook lifted his head up to your lips. Your heart stammered tortuously against your ribs, flirtatious eyes stared lidded with searing lust, his head advanced closer to your lips. Your eyes fluttered closed, lips puckering against the bitter hull of the lime.

Jungkook closed the distance, slanting his mouth over the lime, blocking his contact with yours. He sucked against the sour fruit, acidity puckering his lips, residual tartness flowing to your cracked lips. Jungkook withdrew from your mouth, taking the drained lime hull with it. Your saccharine moans were heaven to his ears. It had awoken something inside him, fueled his fire in knowing that possibly no one had ever heard such a sweet sound. He wanted more, craved more. 

"Have you ever been kissed before, sweetheart?" Your eyes followed the movement of his tongue, poking out to moistening his lips. 

"Yeah, once in like 3rd grade." Who hasn't snuck behind a tree or hid underneath the dark coverings of playground equipment to lock lips with a childhood crush?

He grinned salaciously, body moving to rest between your spread legs. Oh, now he was really excited. Your lips were practically untouched. Just another part of your body to claim first. You jumped when palms pressed flat against the revealed skin of your thigh. Gently, Jungkook rubbed lazy circles on your skin, never lowering or furthering than the hem of your dress. He felt you wiggle beneath his hands, observed your eyes, glimpsing―darting about, should you concentrate on his face, or his hand, uncertainty was etched on your face.

"Amazing." He groaned, eyelashes fluttering against his cheeks, before grinning again. His face inched closer to yours, his lips but a breath apart, warmth flickered against your lips as he talked, level and smooth. " Well, how about I become your second?

And then his lips were on you, the soft muscle mangled itself to your lips, tentative and sluggish to give you a chance to register his mouth slanted upon yours. Jungkook chuckled against your lips at your unresponsiveness. He guesses you were a little shell shocked. It only takes a few more stagnant seconds before you're shyly reciprocating his kiss. Delicate, shaky movements highlighted your inexperience. Increasingly, Jungkook increased the pressure behind lips, his hands spreading to enclose around your waist, dragging you closer against him. One of Jungkook's hands removed from your waist to bury itself in your hair, gently his fingernails scratched against your scalp, an airy moan was his reward. 

Hands completely abandoning your midsection, one gripped the meat of your thigh, pulling you to the edge of the table, flush against the tent of his denim jean encased manhood, the other embedded in your strands pulled sharply on your roots, a loud gasp tearing from you. Jungkook took that opportunity to advance his tongue into your gaped mouth. His tongue wrapped itself around yours, briefly wrestling for dominance before easily pinning your tongue in submission. His hips ground against yours, the heat of your covered core teased him through his jeans. 

He thoroughly explored your mouth, swallowing the now copious cries leaving your mouth. Reluctantly, Jungkook tore himself from your kiss-swollen lips. The ravished looked suited you perfectly. You looked beautiful, thighs brazenly spread, eyes glazed over in lust, your sticky chest heaving from the length of the shared kiss. Even in the dim lights, he could make out the taunt pebbling of your nipples. 

Your mouth gaped wide, flapping about like a fish out of water, trying despairingly to draw air into your lungs. Your first kiss definitely didn't compare to this much. Your wide eyes flicked between Jungkook and the floor, your bottom lip tucked firmly between your teeth, feeling shy as he just stares at you. Releasing your teeth from your lips, you timidly touched your mouth, admiring how plump they've gotten from the intense liplock.

Wordlessly Jungkook hitched you over his shoulder, winded with a grunt as his defined shoulder blades dug into your stomach and what sounded like a growled vibrate up into you. You squirmed lightly in his hold, scared he was going to drop you, and secondly, your panty-clad ass on display for the party-goers, not that anyone was looking. 

You watched the continuous panels of hardwood floor move beneath you as Jungkook carried you to an unknown destination. You couldn't believe you were really doing this. Were you actually going to have sex with a complete stranger? Someone who was known for explicitly fucking virgins. Realistically, you should be ashamed, yet, you conceded full control to him without a second thought. What did that say about you? About your character? Would you now be labeled as 'easy' or a 'hoe' after all this was done? What was going to happen between you and Jungkook? 

The flick of a switch stirred from your thoughts. You shield your eyes with your hand at the bright lights pouring into the room, or rather a bathroom. Jungkook loved the confusion marring your features. He wouldn't fuck you in his bedroom just yet. That was a privilege you would have to earn, no matter how intrigued he had become with you. There's always humiliation to be had in the corruption of innocence, and fucking you in the bathroom was a good start. He planned on making you watch him as he destroyed your body, popping your cherry, stretching your tight virginal hole to accommodate his length, and claimed it as his own. Jungkook shuddered at the thought, his possessive nature taking a turn for the worst. 

Impatiently Jungkook sat you on top of the bathroom sink counter, his lips smashed against yours, the previous tenderness was gone, vanished into a puff of smoke. Teeth banged, and tongues flailed recklessly against each other in the heat of passion, with you struggling to keep up with the demands of his dominating kiss. Thick fingers trailed beneath the hem of your dress, tickling the expanse of your thighs. Jungkook wasted no time in shifting your slick soaked panties to the side, a warm digit gliding effortlessly through your damn folds.

"Fuck, you're already so wet. You're enjoying this a little too much, baby girl." Jungkook growled, panting against your lips. His finger breached your sex, you tensed deftly around the foreigner intrusion, stretching your weeping walls. 

"Ah, Jungkook." You cried listlessly, rocking your hips against his stilled finger. He felt so good inside you, and it was just his finger. Maybe this experience wouldn't be as bad as you heard. Now you couldn't wait to see what his cock felt like embedded deep within your pussy. Jungkook pumped slowly, eventually introducing a second finger to help loosen you up more. You were gonna be a tight fit, very tight, but that just made it even better. You hissed at the slight burn as he began scissoring his fingers apart with each withdrawal. Your hands wrapped around his neck as you buried your head against his broad chest, your mellifluous moans suppressed by the fabric of his shirt. 

"G-go faster, please." You begged, your body adjusting and quickly becoming frustrated by the snail's pace his fingers were pumping. You bucked your hips against his hands, hoping he would ease the growing discomfort boiling in your stomach. 

"Have you ever had an orgasm before, babe?" You nodded eagerly at his question, whining as you bucked against his hand again.

"Oh, really? Who gave it to you." Slow, he was going too slow you wanted, no you needed more friction, more stimulation from him.

"M-me. I-i did." Jungkook loved how you stuttered, it stroked his ego and filled him with arrogance to know it was him, and only that was capable of making you stumble over your words.

"Mmm, and how did you do it? Did you rub this little clit of yours raw?" You cried louder when his thumb flicked at your clit, the stimulation further drawing the appendage from its hood.

"Or did you fuck this tight hole, with these tiny fingers of yours?" At those words, a loud, choked moan, even muffled by your face in his chest, echoed throughout the white bathroom. Jungkook had gone deeper inside, almost to the third knuckle. Another moan left your lips as he twisted his fingers inside you, his palm now facing upwards.

"Though you and I bought know they couldn't possibly reach deep enough to touch the spot you really want." It's euphoric, no better yet orgasmic, the sheer shock of electric pleasure that zaps through your body when he finds the spongy bundle of nerves. Your body jerked heavily, legs go to snap close, only to be stopped by his broad body between your thighs.

He chuckles softly, stroking your thigh with his other hand. Jungkook shifts his head down, bringing his mouth closer to your ear. He exhales quietly, warm air tinged with tequila and lime caresses the light hairs on you around your ear. " I found it, huh?"

You whimper, rubbing your head up and down against his chest.

"You want me to speed up the pace, sweetheart?" Jungkook's voice is delicate now, so gentle. But you're confused, overwhelmed, and scared. It's never felt like this when you did it yourself. Your not sure if you could handle the feeling, so you don't provide an answer to Jungkook's question.

"Don't ignore me ____, that's not nice manners. I'll ask again." You clench around his fingers as Jungkook inches just a bit deeper. 

"Do you. Want me. To go faster?" With each pause, he arches his fingers in a 'come here' motion, pressing deeply against your bundle of nerves, the sensation of having to pee accompanied with each thrust.

 "Y-yes, faster, more. Pl-lease." Fuck, you sounded so pretty begging for him if he wasn't addicted before. You had him sprung now. Jungkook buried his face in the crook of your neck, the sharp smell of tequila and salt still lingering on your skin. He sucked at the junction where your shoulder and neck met. You bucked harder against his fingers, your juices now dripping to coat his palm is sticky cream.

"If you wanted more. Why didn't you just ask?" Jungkook said deviously. Confused, you felt withdraw his sticky digits, walls gripping to stop their departure. Without warning, Jungkook flipped you over onto the counter, your knees buckled at the sudden change in position. Your faced burning at your displayed state, droplets of your essence dribbled from your pussy, slicking up your inner thighs. You yelped as Jungkook grasped at the length of your hair, pulling back pointedly, your neck craned back to observe him addressing you in the mirror.

"You've been wondrous for me ____. Such a sweet girl." He expressed, his empty hand disappearing behind your perked ass to fiddle with the groin of his pants. 

"Truly, you have. Your response and reactions to my touch have really gotten me riled up. It's been a while since I've tittered on the edge of losing control." You wheezed, starting to panic as you felt the thick head of his cock slap teasingly against your slicked throbbing hole. Oh, God, he's huge. Jungkook's cock might just tear you apart. You shifted your hips forward, pressing against the cold marble of the bathroom counters door.

"I-i don't think, I can t-take it Jungkook, you're too b-big. It's my first-time, r-remember?” Your stuttering worse now, but you're scared.

Jungkook pulls your hips back with the hand the was grasping his length, the side of your hip now coated in his pre-cum. His hand lays flat in the crease of your back, forcing you into a perfect arch. 

"You can take it, all of it. And don't worry, of course, I remembered your fragility. I'll go slow, I promise." You plead silently with your eye contact through the mirror. 

"You ready?" You nod once an advert your eyes down to the sink.

Your mouth shakily falls agape as he slowly began pushing the head of his cock into you. It burns, but not as bad as you had anticipated. You take the chance to look back up into the mirror, adamant about giving Jungkook a thankful smile for his gentleness. That vision that greets looks like it jumped right off the page of your favorite erotic story. 

Jungkook's got his head thrown back, the edge of his t-shirt clenched tightly between his teeth, your eyes trail the drip of sweat that follows the curve of his jawline. You have a clear view of his abs all the way down to the v-cut of his hip, to the happy trail that leads to a neatly trimmed bush of pubic hair. You clench tightly around him, efficiently aroused by the view. You feel his cock throbbed heavily inside you, even getting bigger if possible.

"You like that, sweet girl? You like seeing me struggling to contain myself because you're so tightly around me. This little pussy trying to milk me for all I can give you." You love it. You feel powerful in a way. Do you really feel that good around him?

"Yes." Jungkook draws out the 'S.' 

"You feel amazing, so warm and wet. I wished you could see how coated in white you've got me, and I'm not even all the way in yet."

You scream soundless as he bucks into you, shoving in half of his length. It doesn't hurt anymore. You just feel stuffed full. Lifting a trembling hand, you take the chance a feel the lower part. You noticed swelling that wasn't there before, intrigued; you push down against it, moaning in shock you realize it's Jungkook's cock. 

"Yeah, baby girl, that's all me, well, most of me. You ready to take the rest?"

"Yes! Please!" That's the clearest you've been all night. You don't get an answer as Jungkook immediately picks up his pacing, thrusting into you faster. He wastes no time pumping deeply into your tight pussy, his tip smashing against the entrance to your cervix as you pant and grit your teeth in slight discomfort, overshadowed by pleasure. The burning sensation is back as he fucks in deeper with each brutal and swift stroke. But you don't care cause it still feels amazing. You can hear yourself, sloppy and soaking wet, echoing throughout the bathroom. You're drooling down his pistoning cock. You can feel it dripping down your inner thighs. Your head jerks violently against your shoulders, to weak support your head from his menacing thrust. 

Tightened vocal cords released strained shrieks of praise; from your mouth, drool dripping from your lips, into the sticky cleavage of your breast, and sweat coated your skin. The coil in your stomach was quickly tightening, never had you felt anything so deep inside you. If you ever had sex with anyone else, they would never compare to Jungkook.  You were fucked both figuratively and literally.

Jungkook pulled you further from off the sink, the new position allowing him even deeper. You clawed at the marble tops underneath your fingers, your eyes rolling in the back of your head. That sensation of having to pee is back again.

"J-K, I-m. I have to-," You don't get to finish as the band in your stomach snapped. Silently you announced your release; if it wasn't for the new wave of cum coating his cock, or the fluttering tightness of your walls, Jungkook might have missed your orgasm. He wasn't far behind you. The constant clenching of your ridged walls around his cock, had him reaching his limit sooner than he would like. Jungkook had half a mind to pull out but decided to gamble his odds. You're the first person he's fucked raw in a while, and with three deep thrusts later, he was shooting his hot seed right against your cervix. 

Breathing heavily, Jungkook lets you fall against the sink, observing as you crumpled against the sink countertop. Pride swelled his chest as he watched his seed bubble out of your well-used hole. He's never contemplated going farther with the virgins he fucked. He wouldn't make any hasty decisions now though there were still a lot of things he wanted to do with you. He would sleep on it and revisit the idea in the morning.

"So would you say, Operation: Pop Your Cherry was a success?"

You giggled, winded, still having difficulty catching your breath. You straighten up against the bathroom counter, the majority of your weight still resting on the object as you had yet to regain the feeling in your legs.

"Jimin and his stupid code names. I swear when I get a hold ass, he's dead." You warned already preparing your revenge on your best friend. You stare at Jungkook in the eyes through the mirror, smile a bit goofy, you say.

"Operation: Pop My Cherry. Mission complete."

[bestiesenpai]

Inamorata - Sukuna

You have no idea how much I like this idea lol ya know the meme ‘i got a boyfriend, yeah he kills people he’s crazy’ this is exactly what went through my head with this. Femme reader, I went for a...Sukuna is his own person and not attached to Itadori kind of thing? Like just a stand-alone demon. I had probably way too much fun writing this and would be down to write more for this concept

Content warnings: killing/murder/homicide choose your preferred noun, a little yandere?, size difference and Sukuna is in his four armed form, uhmm there’s a knife(main use to cut open readers palm in the beginning) and also licking blood from said wound, violence/gore at the end

Apparently there was a demon on the loose. From what you’d read on online forums and heard through the whispers of older people on the train, there was a foreboding presence terrorizing the city, preying on the weak and helpless and hoping to take over the world.

There were blurry photos and horrible sketches of what the creature supposedly looked like and the form it took, but none of them seemed to match up. The tattoos on the face and body were always off, the amount of muscle and the stature of the creature were all different depending on who you went to.

Which is why you decided, against all better judgement, to go looking for him. All the stories you’d heard about the demon, the kind of creature it was centuries ago in its prime, had intrigued you. With the mystique and terror surrounding this demon, you’d be a fool not to try and get a peek for yourself.

At first you’d tried a summoning circle, clearing a large space in your bedroom and drawing intricate patterns on the floor in hopes of his arrival. That method quickly turned futile as no demon ever came - but now you probably had a few ghosts watching you sleep at night.

The second method was to try and make a pact with the devil himself, slicing open your palm and dripping blood onto the pages of old scriptures. Attempting to sell your soul had worked even less than the first method and all you had to show for it was a bandage around your hand for two weeks.

“I’ll definitely see him now.” You mumbled to yourself, walking straight to where the demon was seen most: the red light district. Walking past bright neon signs and nearly naked women in shop windows, you took a peek into every alleyway you came across.

“Hey pretty lady, what’re you looking for?” A rough, scratchy voice sounded behind you as you walked past the umpteenth alleyway of the night.

“What do you think?” Not looking over your shoulder, you kept walking. The voice, while sounding absolutely disgusting, didn’t belong to a demon and therefore not worth your time.

“I think you’re looking for trouble.” Curling his fingers around your arm, the man you were trying to ignore snatched you back, making you stumble and fall into his chest. The nasty scent of body odor and cigarettes was wafting off the man, making you worry that his stench would cling to you for days.

“Not the kind you’re talking about.” Pushing away from him, you furiously wiped off your clothes. Looking this man in the face irritated you, he was wasting his time and you knew exactly what his intentions were.

“Don’t play so hard to get!” Forcing a less than charming smile on his face, the man made the move to grab you again.

“Don’t touch me!” Slapping his hands away, you took generous steps back from him. “You’re getting in the way of my search.”

“Search?” Quirking a brow at you, the man took a moment to think before his brows rose in surprise. “You’re looking for Sukuna, aren’t you?”

“That’s his name?” You’d never heard his name before, only seeing some people refer to him as a four armed creature from hell.

“Yup, and I’ve seen him a couple times.” Crossing his arms over his chest, the man smirked triumphantly. “You could say he and I have a kind of friendly relationship.”

“Do you now?” Your eyes trailed up from the man to the dark alleyway behind him where two glowing red eyes emerged.

“Oh yeah, Sukuna’s a great guy! Even offered to give me a position in his little army.” The more he spoke the brighter the eyes got and the fuzzy outline of a gigantic body was starting to take shape.

“His little army?” Slowly taking steps back as the figure came forward, you barely had time to react before the man was snatched up by two giant hands and yanked backwards. Lifting him into the air, it wasn’t long before a mouth with gleaming sharp teeth opened up and swallowed him whole.

As the eyes drew their attention back to you, a nervous laugh left your chest that you couldn’t force to stop. Every step you took back was now accompanied by a step forward from the creature until it fully left the alleyway and you saw exactly what you were dealing with.

Right in front of you, in full form and glory, was the demon you’d been searching for. The scrawling black tattoos along his entire body, the four arms, pink hair, second set of eyes and his impossibly muscular physique - all of it was exactly like you’d been hoping for.

“Hello, pretty little thing.” His voice boomed despite being relatively quiet, a slight echo to the deep timbre. It was almost melodic in a way, somehow soothing your racing heart just slightly.

“S-sukuna?” You squeaked out, back meeting the brick wall of a building.

“That would be me.” Chuckling as he stopped a few feet from you, Sukuna crossed his secondary arms and looked down upon you. The sheer height and width of his body easily dwarfed yours, your head only barely reaching his ribcage.

Your eyes couldn’t stay in one place as you looked at Sukuna. There was too much to take in and you could feel yourself quickly becoming overwhelmed trying to commit every detail to memory.

“You’re…” Licking your lips nervously, you could only meet his eyes for a moment before settling on the mark on his forehead. “You’re wearing womens clothes.” Tied around his waist and hanging off his legs was indeed a womens kimono, a surprising pristine white shade.

“That’s what you decide to say at our first meeting?” An echoing laugh bellowed from him and Sukuna shook his head, running one hand through his hair.

“I-I’m sorry it’s just...they never mentioned it online.” It felt a little silly to be explaining yourself to him when at any moment Sukuna could eat you like he did that man and you would have no way of stopping him.

“Little thing, I have a question for you.” Fixing you with a suddenly sharp stare, Sukuna lowered his brow and bent down, placing two arms above your head and two at your side, trapping you in against the wall with no possible outs.

“Yes?” Pinching your eyes closed, you held your breath as you waited for the inevitable bite of his teeth around.

“Are you scared?” Sukuna whispered, his breath fanning out over the top of your head.

“Yes.” It would be a lie to say no and you had nothing to lose by telling the truth. Sukuna’s eyes bore into you, the weight of his stare physically making your back bow.

“What did you think of me eating that man just now? Was that terrifying for you?”

“No.” Sukuna took a pause at your answer and although you couldn’t see it, his brow furrowed for a fraction of a second.

“What did you feel then? Surely you must have thought it was horrible.”

“N-not really.” Slowly cracking one eye open, you looked up at Sukuna, almost breaking your neck from having to stare directly above you. “I was actually quite happy you did that. He was getting on my nerves.”

The barking laugh that left Sukuna’s mouth made you flinch and throw your hands in the air. It was so loud it seemed to vibrate your entire body and a few windows on the building behind you shook from the force.

“You’re telling me you liked me killing that guy?” Grabbing you by the collar of your shirt, Sukuna held you up in the air, eye level to him. You nodded, pitifully kicking your legs out to try and get back to solid ground. “Aren’t you a messed up little thing?” Still laughing, Sukuna took a proper once over of your body. “Pretty, but messed up.”

“P-please let me go!” You whimpered, hands desperately clutching Sukuna’s to try and not fall out of your clothes and onto the ground.

“What’s wrong? Don’t like how I hold you?” Shaking you for good effect, Sukuna smirked wildly at your scared little squeaks. “Tell me your name.”

“It’s (Y/N)!” Shouting into the air, you felt relief flood into you as Sukuna finally lowered you back to the ground and his hands released you.

“(Y/N)?” Sounding it out on his tongue, Sukuna shrugged to himself. “I like ‘little thing’ better.”

“I’m only little compared to you.” Fixing your clothes, you tried to regain your breath and stop your body from shaking so violently.

“So, what’s a creature like you doing out so late at night here? It’s not safe for a human like you to roam around these parts.”

“I was looking for you.”

“Me? You were looking for me?” Sukuna snorted, waving his hand dismissively at you. “A human like you looking for me? I’ve really seen it all.”

“It’s true!” Pulling out your phone, you quickly showed him all the data you’d compiled on him. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, Sukuna! I did a summoning circle, I’ve looked in hundreds of online forums - I even tried to make a deal with the devil!” Showing him the mark that was still healing on your palm, the fear that was in your body was slowly trickling out and being replaced with- hope? Excitement? It was hard to say, but as Sukuna grasped your hand between two fingers and looked at your palm, it would be wrong to say it was a negative emotion you felt.

“You really did all that for me?” His voice was much softer now but it still sounded like he was mocking you. Smoothing the pad of one finger across your palm, he felt the ridges of your palm and the wound.

“I did. I find you really fascinating and I- I just wanted to learn more about you.” You faltered when he looked at you, a fierce heat overtaking your cheeks at admitting out loud that you’d been looking for a demon because you found him interesting.

“Are you perhaps interested in me?” A smirk tugged one side of Sukuna’s lip up and he chuckled when your expression only grew more flustered. “Oh little thing, you’re more messed up than I thought.”

“Will you tell me more about yourself? Please?” The words tumbled out of your mouth desperately as you let Sukuna stretch out your arm and grasp your hand more firmly. He didn’t answer you or even acknowledge that you’d spoken, instead grazing the tip of one long sharp nail along the line of the cut.

“I find myself liking you more and more, why is that?” Sukuna’s tone sounded like he was addressing himself as he spoke aloud, turning your hand every which way as he kept scraping his nail against your palm. “Were you my lover in the past, back when I reigned as the ruler of this whole land?”

Racking your brain to try and remember any information on Sukuna potentially having a lover, you were ripped back to reality when Sukuna dug his nail into your skin, reopening the cut and making blood flow freely.

“Ow!” You couldn’t yank your arm out of his grasp and you watched in mild horror as Sukuna lowered himself to your hand, letting his tongue hang out of his mouth and drag across your skin. His tongue quickly became coated in dark red blood, his saliva starting to mingle with your blood.

“You taste so familiar, you must have been mine.” Lapping up your blood now, Sukuna didn’t stop until he could tell you were starting to get weak from blood loss. The lower half of his face was now covered in red, smeared across his skin like paint.

“Sukuna, that’s gross.” The mumble slipped from your delirious mind, making him laugh as he waved a hand over the cut and made it go away. Slipping your hand from his grasp it was like there had never been a mark there in the first place.

“A human telling me what’s gross?” Licking his face clean, Sukuna grinned down at you. The longer he looked at you the longer memories of a past you returned to his mind. The irresistible draw he felt to come to you tonight had been the same one that called to him centuries ago, making you the center of his otherwise cruel and empty world.

Placing two hands on the wall behind you, Sukuna leaned over you once more, this time grasping your chin and turning your face up to him. The saliva that had mixed with your blood had also given you new memories of the past as well, and as you looked at Sukuna you remembered all the things the two of you had done together.

“So, my pet, what shall we do first?”

Sukuna ended up carrying you home, having you tucked inside his kimono as he leaped on rooftops across the city. Opening your bedroom window, Sukuna shoved his body through, having to make himself slightly smaller to fit inside the house.

“Are you uh, hungry?” Standing awkwardly in the middle of your bedroom as Sukuna sat on your bed, you weren’t quite sure what to do now.

“I could eat.” Laying fully back on your bed, it creaked and groaned as Sukuna rested his weight on it. The thought of offering to take him to the kitchen came and went quickly in your head; just getting him into your room was a hard enough task.

Fixing him and yourself a quick meal, as soon as you were done eating Sukuna picked you up and rested you on his abdomen. Even after shrinking himself down your legs were still stretched as wide as possible in hopes of wrapping around his waist.

“As the memories of you return, I realize how much I’ve missed you, my pretty little thing.” Petting down your back, Sukuna looked at you fondly. Propped up on two of his arms, he could stare directly at your tiny body sitting atop him.

“What kind of memories do you have?” So far, the only thing you could seem to recall were memories of a more sexual nature. One’s of you and Sukuna wrapped up in each other's arms, both of his cocks stuffed inside you as you begged to cum.

“I remember giving you the world, whatever you wanted was yours for the taking.” The look in Sukunas eyes was surprisingly soft and you could feel the love coming out from him.

“Whatever I wanted?” Repeating the words, your mouth hung open slightly at all the possible things you could get.

“The world may exist to serve me, but I exist to serve you.” Fully sitting up, Sukuna held you against him as he leaned down, lips grazing your forehead. “What do you want, (Y/N)? I can get you anything in the world, I can do anything in the world.”

“Kill for me.” The whisper that left your lips was almost too quiet for even yourself to hear. But Sukuna nodded, having heard you perfectly. Your words made his body thrum with excitement and his nerves were on edge.

“Kill for you?” He repeated, kissing you on the forehead. The fingers that held you closely dug into your sides and if Sukuna wasn’t careful he could crush you completely.

“You love me, don’t you?” There was just the slightest hint of worry in your voice. What if you were overestimating your power over Sukuna? He could say no or even kill you himself.

“You have no idea what the things my love for you will do.”

Although it pained him to do so, Sukuna left you once the sun began to rise. He had other things to attend to, temples that worshipped him as a god to visit. Promising to see you once dusk began to settle over the sky, Sukuna leapt from your window and into the horizon.

“You came back.” Even though he swore up and down he’d come back, it still shocked you to see him back on your bed once it hit a certain time of night.

“Of course I did.” Sukuna almost seemed hurt you would question him. Holding out a hand, as soon as you grasped one of his fingers he pulled you to him and nestled your body into his side. “Did you do what I asked?”

“The list is in my pocket.” Before leaving, Sukuna had told you to make a list of all the people you wanted him to kill for you. The list had started out short, just a few people that had hurt you that you couldn’t let go of, and then it grew to others, politicians and corrupt people in the media.

“Quite impressive, little thing.” Reading over the list, Sukuna stood up. “Shall we go then?”

“Go whe-” As Sukuna threw open your bedroom window you were met with a strong gust of wind. “Sukuna, where are we going?” You asked him over the wind in your ears. Putting his upper arms into the sleeves of his kimono, he made sure you were nestled safely inside.

“We’re going to take care of the first person on your list.” Wrapping an arm around you, Sukuna jumped out of the window. Though this wasn’t your first time in this position, you hadn’t been fully cognizant when Sukuna took you home last night. Now, with a head clear and no lack of blood to distract you, you could see the lights of the city clearly as they whipped past you.

“It’s beautiful.” Carefully leaning forward, you gazed at the downtown area with all the flashing lights and swerving cars.

“If you say so.” Patting your hip, Sukuna pulled you back, resting your weight fully on his arm and clothes. He wouldn’t admit it, and despite knowing he would catch you in a millisecond, Sukuna didn’t want you to fall out and fall to the ground.

Coming upon the first persons house, he settled you on the ground outside. You were in a tightly knit residential area standing directly under a streetlight, with rows of houses that all looked similar. In a flash, Sukuna had broken into the house and grabbed the person you were after.

“This them?” With a tight grip on their ankle, Sukuna shook them side to side.

“Mhmm.” You didn’t need to look to know he’d gotten the right person, just the feeling you had around them was enough to confirm it.

“W-what’s going on here?!” They screamed, blood pooling in their head the longer they hung upside down.

“Don’t speak.” Sukuna barked, shaking them once again. “You don’t speak to her, or at all.” The person screamed again, a high pitched sound that quickly got shut off as Sukuna swung their body and smacked them against the ground. “I thought I told you to be quiet.”

For a moment you thought they’d died from how hard Sukuna hit them against the ground, but a small whimper and breathless gasps sounded from where their face was crushed against the pavement.

“Do you know why I’m here?” You whispered, standing over their motionless body. Rolling over onto their back, they shook their head and started to stammer. “If you can’t answer my question I don’t want you to make a sound.” Pressing your foot onto their throat, you flinched when their hands came up to try and claw you away.

“Don’t touch her.” Instantly pinning their arms down, Sukuna glowered. “How would you like me to do it?”

“Let me think.” Staring down into their glassy eyes, a million options went through your mind. Sukuna’s power was limitless, there was nothing he couldn’t do. If you asked him to throw their body into outer space, he would do it in a heartbeat. “Rip them limb from limb. You can eat them if you’d like.”

“As you wish.” A sick grin curled Sukuna’s lip and he drug their body across the ground until they were directly underneath him.

“(Y/N) wait! W-wait please!” Their shrill cries fell on deaf ears, and the sound of the first limb being torn off their body was something you could get used to. “Oh- oh my god, my leg!”

“God I wish you’d shut up.” You kept your eyes on the person's face, refusing to look at where blood squirted generously from their now missing extremity.

“Allow me.” With the swipe of one claw Sukuna gouged out their throat. Hot, bright red blood spilled out onto the pavement, pooling and almost making it to where you stood. Throwing one leg into his mouth, Sukuna used a non-bloody hand to lift you up and place you onto a brick wall.

“Thank you.” Giving him a gentle smile, you now had a front row seat to Sukuna ripping apart this person's body and slowly devouring them. There was a mess of blood coating Sukuna’s skin, far more blood than when he had drunk yours.

As you watched Sukuna eat this person, a sense of satisfaction washed over you. It felt good to get justice in your own way for how this person wronged you. After being told to let it go, try and move and let time heal the wound, you could finally get closure the way you wanted.

“All done?” You asked once the last piece of their body was consumed. Standing up to his full height, Sukuna still looked down at you. The blood on his skin began to sizzle off, evaporating into the air and leaving the pungent smile of iron behind.

“Have I made you happy?” He responded, cupping your face and lightly squishing your cheeks. Smiling proudly, a warm flush washed over your face the longer you and Sukuna looked at each other.

“Yes, very.” Nuzzling into his palm and kissing it, you let out a breathless laugh as Sukuna did the same.

“I’m happy to please you.” Kissing you on the top of the head, Sukuna pulled out the list and crossed out the first name. “Shall we go to the others now?”

[showrunnerihardlyknowher]

today i astral project giant, curious merboy w/ frightened researcher into your mind. tomorrow? who knows

Tomorrow is when you get your request filled you babey boi

--

“E-easy now, l-let’s ju-woah! Hey!”

It was too late for Stella’s squirming to do her any good as long, clammy fingers tightened themselves around her already battered body to lift her much higher than she would have appreciated. She couldn’t help a small wince when she felt her arms be uncomfortably squeezed against her ribs, the left side of which was undoubtably bruised from her topple earlier. The grip only pressed more at her pathetic struggles, forcing out her exhale much rougher than intended.

“Pl-lease,” she gasped, practically immobile in the creature’s hold which seemed to be the desired affect, “y-you’re hur-hurting me...!”

And just like that, the pressure that had once been constricting her disappeared. Even more wonderfully, solid ground seemed to return under her shaky legs which she was grateful to collapse. Or so she thought. A couple inhales sucked in to clear the splotches that pulsed in the corner of her vision revealed she had merely been traded from one hand to the other, trapped high above in an open palm as opposed to a clenched fist. Best not to look a gift horse in the mouth, she supposed.

Or fish, she supposed again.

With a shaky sigh, Stella forced her eyes up (and up and up) until they met with  wide ones, blinking down at its tiny capture. She couldn’t keep up the staring contest very long, however, not with how unnerving those black scleras were. Instead, she found her gaze shifting towards its mouth that could certainly fit her inside in one bite, perhaps even a rowboat if it tried. At that moment, it chirped at her, something loud and grating and immediately making her cover her ears for protection, but not without getting a glimpse of those jagged fangs.

From a scientific standpoint, this was one of the most stunning discoveries in her career, hell, in anyone’s career in the history of marine biology. A genuine mermaid...er, man, if she were to assume based purely on physical observation. A dozen questions ran through her mind focused on understand how on earth each component of his body functioned. Respiratory, circulatory, vision, hearing, homeostasis, smell, bone structure and density, muscle to fat ratio, everything and more!

Unfortunately, she doubted those inquiries would be answered anytime soon, if ever. 

The monster chittered again much more quietly, practically a rumble in his throat as his other hand hovered closer. Try as she might to flinch away, there was really no where else to go besides down into the icy waters below. She watched the thick claws adorning each finger inch closer, bracing for the sensation of being flayed like some sort of sick vengeance for all his seafood brethren she had ever eaten. Actually, given his size and muscular build alone, there was no way this thing was a vegetarian, so there better not be any judgement on that front!

Surprisingly enough, the claws just missed nicking any part of her skin in favor for the pad of his finger to rub against the top of her head, slowly, hesitantly even. Stella grimaced at the action but let it be, holding still as best her trembling form was able to while his petting built up more confidence, now sliding from her crown to where the coils ended at her shoulders. She let out a yip when he yanked her hair in an attempt to rub the foreign texture between his thumb and forefinger, immediately releasing the frizzy locks at the sound of her distress. 

His curiosity didn’t stop there, however. She was well aware of the irony of the situation--the researcher being studied by the subject and all that (at least, she hoped that’s what he was doing rather than sizing her up for a meal). Considering this was her first time ever encountering a merperson during one of her weekend escapades along the coastline, it wouldn’t be too hard to imagine this was his first time meeting a strangely sized hybrid species as well. Maybe those local legends about sea monsters and sirens held a little bit of truth after all, he was certainly as destructive as the stories foretold of these deadly creatures.

And, the scientist side of her couldn’t help but reason with the merman. She was, after all, encroaching on his natural territory in a foreign vessel, was it truly so unexpected for it to attack? ‘Attack’ was perhaps too strong of a word. Investigate was more like it, the way it grabbed and shook her tiny boat in an effort to see what was inside this weird, floating habitat until she came tumbling out on deck. On the bright side, at least Lorelei coming down with strep the night before saved her research partner from meeting the same fate as her right now. On the downside, she was going to meet said fate alone, her true ending forever a mystery outside of these waters.

The question was: what the hell was her fate meant to be? The way his fingers and touches roamed her body continued to reassure her that she probably wasn’t going to be a menu speciality for another few moments, but beyond eating her, what other uses could he have for her? He pinched her legs and arms to bend at the joints, especially fascinated at how articulate her lower half was in comparison to his own. It was almost like he was looking for a tail where one should obviously be, trying to piece together how these two split fins could work together as one. His fingers brushed against her waist and trailing up to her neck. Gill placement, maybe? From just how close his nails were coming to her jugular, Stella feared she might just get a few extra breathing slits if she so much as hiccuped.

It was all well and good until the fingers glided back down over her chest, pushing past the soaked lapels of her coat to the swell of her cleavage, his claw eagerly slipping under the buttons of her blouse to pop a few off. Stella turned bright red, her body heating up so much that she was sure he could feel it against the cool flesh of his palm where she sat. With an indignant shriek, she slapped the digit away from her body, quickly covering herself with her lab coat as best she could.

“No, thank you!” She scolded, leveling a glare with the creature. “Don’t do that!”

She didn’t even have time to register what consequences might befall her actions of threat displaying a massive sea predator, not with how his ear fins flattened against his head and he jerked his hand away as if she had burned him with her touch. In his defense, he did look rather guilty, rumbling again in his throat like he was offering an apology. He tilted his head at her, repeating the noise and it was then she realized he probably didn’t actually know what was wrong, rather he was asking why it was wrong. Oh, yeah. Different species, different cultures, different takes on reproductive accessories.

“You just, y-you don’t touch people like that, okay?” He grumbled something at her and though she didn’t understand it, she knew that tone well enough to roll her eyes. “Because I said so. Why d-”

Stella froze. The monster was still pouting at her reply, but her lengthy pause paired with her suddenly shocked expression made him chirp again in question. She searched his eyes, now well aware of the deep blue iris hidden within the inky abyss around it. 

“You...c-can you understand me...?”

He furrowed his eyebrows before giving a single nod. Uh, yeah, duh? I’ve been responding to you this entire time, haven’t I? is what the expression conveyed.

“Holy shit...” she whispered. A smile was quick to tug at her cheeks, looking back at him with twinkling brown eyes. “Holy shit! You can understand me! Y-you’re...you’re intelligent!”

The creature narrowed his gaze and she quickly held up her hands in a placating motion. “I-I mean, obviously, you were always intelligent, just i-in terms of, like...you know, whatever, let’s just start over, um...” She ran a hand through her newly tangled mess of curls, shaking her head in disbelief. “Oh my god, I don’t even know where to begin!”

A quick look down at her capsized boat had her reconsider. Stella wondered how much of her research and equipment inside was totally trashed as a result of being broken or waterlogged. Oh well. Literally none of that mattered right now, not when filters could be replaced and notes reprinted and one of the greatest specimens of her lifetime was three inches in front of her.

Biting her lip, she glanced between the boat and the merman. “Actually, do you, um, think m-maybe you could fix...that? And maybe put m-me down while you’re at it...?”

For a moment, he only blinked at her, silently debating her request. It was long enough to make her start to shift nervously, wondering if she had managed to misread the entire situation and was foolish to make such demands when she was still considered a food source. Thankfully, he complied and righted her boat with ease, gently depositing her on the slick deck. The rocking of the sea still caused her to slip and fall ass first on the ground, though it mattered little to her with the way her legs still felt like jelly.

A shadow engulfed her, trilling ringing in her ears from above which made her groan. “I’m fine, just...give me a minute here.” Slowly, Stella sat back up and pulled her legs towards herself until she could sit criss-cross, digging her (thankfully) waterproof handheld from her pocket to pop out the stylus, tapping and scribbling on the screen. The creature lowered himself deeper into the water until only his shoulders and above were visible, swimming around to the edge of the boat to try and see what she was doing on the tiny device. He braced his hands on the side of the hull, nearly capsizing it again, which was probably what he did the first time when she had been down in the cabin, and only letting go when Stella cried out at being toppled for the umpteenth time.

When the boat ceased most of its swaying, she fixed another sharp glare at the creature who hunched a little further into the salty waters. “Okay, rule number one, no more touching this boat. Got it?” She was half tempted to add or me in there, but...well, they could cross that bridge if something came up about that later. Regardless, he nodded at her and she sighed, repositioning herself to lean against the cabin door for a little extra stability.

“So, ever play twenty questions?”

[haechanniesunflowers]

Stray Kids reaction to you breaking up with them

Theme: angst, rage, hate, very much established relationships, y'all deeply love each other

Scenario: You had been waiting for almost 2 hours now. "where is he" you were getting impatient and angry. He did this quite often, forgetting about your scheduled dates. You call him for the umpteenth time, and finally he picks up. You can tell by his raspy voice that he had been sleeping. "you've been blasting my phone for a while now, if I'm not answering then it means I'm either asleep or busy. What do you want?" he says annoyed. Oh hell no, he did not just just talk back to you. You immediately hangup, not wanting to create a scene because you were fuming at this point. You drive to his studio, but he's not there. Okay now you're just losing your mind, like you're on fire now. You go to his apartment and knock until he opens the door "WHAT THE HELL???". You walk straight in and it all makes sense to him now, he forgot about your date. He has no explanation to give so he's silent and embarrassed. "yeah, that's what I thought" you say sarcastically. He tries to come near you, "oh no keep your distance mister, I am sick and tired of your behaviour. Who do you think you are?? You might be the dream man of millions of women but you're an ordinary man for me and I will not allow you to treat me like this!! You have been forgetting about our dates, not even random ones, we schedule them TOGETHER but you still forget them! And I am sitting there embarrassed, waiting for you all the time! You always put your work first, even when it's not urgent!".

Bang Chan

He's shocked listening to you and tries calming you down "babe listen to me I know I messed up again, I'm so-". "so what? So sorry? Like you were the last time? And before that?". He's silent. You get more annoyed knowing full well that this isn't going anywhere and he will most definitely do it again. You take a deep breath, trying not to let your anger cloud your judgement but it's not really, your voice of reason tells you to do it. "Christopher, listen to me". Oh shit, you almost never call him Christopher, the only time you do, it's 100% serious business, his heart is thumping hard at this point. "y/n I'll be better, I promise. I'll make time for us I swear". "you and I both know that's not gonna happen, at least not now when you're so deeply involved in your work. And I honestly think it's better if we go our separate ways from here. Because this, us, isn't working and I'm not too happy being the only one putting in effort and making compromises for this relationship". He isn't thinking straight right now because even though you're right, a part of him is telling him that you're being ungrateful because he infact does check up on you, leaves you texts occasionally and meets up with you sometimes. That made him lose it and he snaps "look at you being an ungrateful little brat" this caught you off guard like hello?? how dare you? "wHAT??" you're voice is shrill, laced with anger. "you heard me, all you do is glorify your efforts while you completely ignore the effort I put in this stupid relationship". "well if that's what you wanna think then I can't do much about it now can I?". "leave" he says lowly, you heard it but you can't believe it so you're starting at him. "I said leave right now" he's seething. "oh gladly! I don't want to stay here with you anyway". You walk towards the door and look back just once, "we're done, I don't want to be in a stupid relationship with you where all you do is list down the things you do for me and bring me down". You want to slap him but he's too angry just like you and might start manhandling you so you decide against it. "I made it clear that we're breaking up, even now you weren't paying attention" you say as you step out. He slams the door shut.

Lee Know

He's instantly annoyed at your reaction. "I don't want to deal with you right now I'm tired". "I'm tired too Minho" "then fucking rest, don't yell at me" "I'm tired of you pushing me aside all the time! You expect me to put up with your stupid behaviour and comply with you but not anymore". "I said be quiet, don't yell at me" "UGH!! you make me so angry I hate you" "congratulations now go away" "I'm breaking up with your annoying ignorant ass Minho, don't ever text me or call me again because we're done it's over" you say barging towards the door. "whatever just leave me alone". You fight the urge to punch him in the face and squeal with anger, leaving the door open as you left his apartment. "annoying ass woman" he says, not yet fully understanding what happened.

Changbin

You guessed it right, he's angry. Just like Chan his brain thinks of all the times he worries and care for you. "YA! It's not like I did it on purpose, you need to get your mind straight". "not do it on purpose? Sure you might haven't done it on purpose but this has been going on for some time Changbin didn't you think I was gonna snap at one point in time? Or did you just think I was gonna keep forgiving you like the rest of the time!" "stop pushing it, alright?" "my God Changbin if you aren't even gonna believe me then there's no point in arguing about this" "I'm glad to finally read my mind" "Changbin you are so stupid and annoying ugh I don't want to be with you anymore". His eyes widen "what?" tries to hold your arms. "don't touch me, I'm leaving you Changbin we're done for good". His mind is going haywire, like he loves you so damn much what is he gonna do if you leave him. "y/n listen to me, you're angry right now we ca-" "there's no we anymore" you say as you open the front door, he holds your wrist but you push him back and leave. He stands at the threshold looking at your disappearing figure.

Hyunjin

He's scared and embarrassed. "y/n please baby I'm so sorry, I'll try to make you happy" "Hyunjin I can't believe that you and I have been together for so long and you're still gonna try to make me happy, like that's how much it matters to you" "nononono I don't mean it like that come on sit down I'll get you some water okay baby?" "save it Hyunjin, I'm done" "what do you mean" "I mean I'm done with you, with us trying to stay together, with this relationship, we're done I'm leaving" "no honey please let's talk about this" "there's nothing to talk about" that's the last thing you say and start walking towards the front door. "baby please think about this, you're doing this out of rage, please don't do this, sit down with me we need to talk about this, I love you so so much y/n come back". You silently leave his apartment.

Jisung

Doesn't say a word. He knows it will make you more angry if he says anything so he stays quiet. "Jisung I'm not an object for you to turn to when you're stressed about work. Do you even realize that the only time you actually put me first is when your work stresses you out to the core and you need release. Is that all I am to you?? A booty call? Well? Answer me!!"" erm no" "no what?" "no it's not like that, I'm sorry give me another chance to prove to you what you mean to me" "no thank you Jisung I'm done being embarrassed, I don't want to continue this relationship with you, we're breaking up right now" "what? No nono no nonono hey wait listen to me, I love you, wait I'll be good to you please wait" but you don't wait and you don't let him stop you, you're tired. Jisung cries watching you leave his apartment and his life.

Felix

He'll start crying. You can't deal with this anymore, every time you're mad at him and snap he starts crying. "Felix I'm not going to let things go on like this, I know just how busy you are and I fully understand how little time you have for me but I endured it. Not anymore. I want out. I'm breaking up with you". With that you walk to the door but he stands in your way, "please don't do this y/n I love you way too much, I need you in my life please don't leave me". "you want, you want? What about what I want? I want you to be there for me, just as I am there for you all the time. But you never make an effort. It's in your nature to put all your energy into your work, you can't seem to help it. I'm sorry Felix, but it's over, please get out of my way". He knows stopping you is futile and he doesn't want to swallow his pride, the pride he has left after a little begging, so he quietly moves but comes in for a hug before that. You don't hug him back though and you feel his frantic heart beat. You want to hug him so badly but you can't make this any harder for yourself. "what will I do without you?" he says, suppressing tears. "work? I guess. Goodbye". He cries quietly in his bed the rest of the day. "what have I done".

Seungmin

Maknae line do be sentimental huh? Boy's sad because he can't give you enough time and understands your position. "I'm actually really sorry y/n, I'm sorry for making promises I can't keep" "I don't need your apologies anymore Seungmin, they don't matter anymore" he's like ??? come again? "I don't want this anymore, I'm done, we're breaking up". "y/n please don't say that, why don't we sit and talk when you calm down" "I don't need to be calm to make this decision. We're over". "y/n wait listen to me, I said I'm sorry please wait at least sit down with me, let's talk". "I'm sorry Seungmin, this is how things need to be, goodbye". He's pleading for you to stay but you're gone.

IN

This baby is just sad and upset. He wants the best for you and knows that this isn't the best. So when you say "we're over" it does come as a shock to him but deep down he knows this is the best for you. You leave immediately, immediately because you don't have the heart to see him cry. He calls Chan to tell him what happened, Chan offers to meet up with you and talk on his behalf because just like you, Chan and the older boys can't see IN cry. It hurts to see him like this so he shuts out, completely. He doesn't want to hurt the people around him just because he couldn't treat his girlfriend right.

[carryingthebanner]

✎ Writevember Day 3 ✎

Day 2

Balloons for Les

Prompt: Balloons

Words: too many 3,058

Content Warnings: food mention, briefly mentions loss of parents

“Ya can’t go there, Les. ‘S Brooklyn.” Jack sighed, rubbing a hand down his face. “No kid ‘o mine is goin’ down to Brooklyn by himself. ‘S just not happenin’.” Les huffed, facing toward Davey. “Don’t look at me! I’m not going to Brooklyn again.” Davey exclaimed, throwing up his hands. He shot Jack a glance, hoping that he would back him up on this. Instead, a mischievous smile crept on his face. “Dat don’t sound too bad, huh. Dave, you should take ya little brudda to Brooklyn.” Jack paused, holding back a snicker as Davey’s eyes widened. “I’s sure Spot would love to see ya.” Davey shot Jack a death glare before shaking his head. “What makes you think he would want to see any of the Manhattan newsies? We’re not Race or Albert.”

It was true - only Race and Albert had the privilege of going to Brooklyn whenever they pleased. Jack didn’t like it (and may or may not have felt a bit jealous that he, a fellow leader, wasn’t allowed on Spot’s turf), but he couldn’t blame Conlon - although he was cordial with Jack after his betrayal in order to make the strike successful, he had made it very clear on multiple occasions that he didn’t trust Jack: “Prove it to me, Kelly. Then we’ll talk.” However, Jack felt relieved knowing that at least two Manhattan newsies were on good terms with Brooklyn. If he ever needed a representative, he never hesitated to ask Race or Albert.

“Fine. How’s about I come with ya?” Jack suggested, against his better judgement. Davey looked at him incredulously. “Jack, if there was a list of newsies from any borough that Spot didn’t want to see, I’m certain that you would be at the top of it.” Jack shifted uncomfortably. “I’s changed, Conlon’s gonna have to realize that - one way or another. I ain’t trespassin’ on his turf ‘cause I ain’t sellin’ no papers there. If Les wants to have a look at the circus, then we should let ‘im.” Davey knew good and well that that wasn’t what trespassing meant, but he kept his mouth closed. Jack had a way of working his magic on practically everyone he came into contact with, so maybe he knew what he was doing. Davey just had to relax and trust him.

“Really?” Les squealed, looking enthusiastically between the two of them. Jack glanced over at Davey again before slinging his arm over Les’ shoulder. “Yeah, kid. Let’s go.”

The water sparkled beneath the sun and boats made tiny ripples in the water as the three of them walked across the Brooklyn Bridge. Les stopped every few seconds to feed pigeons or to rush over to the nearest boat to watch it pass under the bridge, completely ignoring Davey’s calls to not stray too far behind.

They were barely halfway across the bridge when they heard loud whooping and the sound of coins being scattered across wood. The Brooklyn newsies were there. Not too unexpected. The Brooklyn boys often hung around here: playing jacks, selling papers and looking out for anyone that might be a Manhattan newsie. They slowed down their pace, and Davey stopped telling Les to come over.

He eventually did. “Did you see the big one? It looked incredible!” Les exclaimed, walking over to them. “What? Oh, nah kid. I didn’t see it. I bet it was though.” Jack responded, nervously running a hand through his hair. “How’s about you go looks at some more? I bet there’s others that are just as big.” Les shook his head. “No, I’m ready to go now. Come on, I wanna see the circus!” Jack shot Davey a nervous glance for what was probably the umpteenth time and then they continued on their way. It wasn’t that Jack was scared of Spot - he wasn’t even intimidated. But Jack knew how badly he had let down all of the newsies when he briefly became a scab. It still hurt him deeply to think about, and he felt ashamed to even show his face in Brooklyn. And it wasn’t just Brooklyn - It had taken him a bit to even feel comfortable with his newsies again. Sure, they accepted him back in no time (even the ones who were a little hesitant at first), but Jack still couldn’t shake the feeling of being a backstabber. Especially when it came down to the younger newsies and the ones who were badly wounded during the strike. Living as a newsie was far from living in high society, but it had always been important to Jack to set a good example for them. And he failed. He had assured Crutchie that he would never let him down, he had promised to fight for all of the newsies, even the ones who didn’t partake in the strike. And he was the one who turned out to be the quitter. Oh, the irony.

As they approached closer, Jack tried not to think about the past and instead tried to think of how he was going to explain to Spot’s newsies his reason for coming to Brooklyn. Suddenly, Davey poked him, and gestured up ahead. Surprise surprise, Spot was here too. “Just as luck would have it.” Jack muttered, sucking in his breath.

He squared his shoulders and strode over to where Spot, a few Brooklyn newsies, and (not so surprisingly) Race and Albert sat. “Heya Conlon!” He said, making sure to play up his charm. “How’s things goin’?” Spot looked up at Jack, continuing to maintain his gaze as he put down his cards and stood. “Why’re ya here, Kelly? State your purpose.” “We’s taking-” Spot moved to stand directly in front of Jack. “Business or pleasure?” He crossed his arms, waiting for an answer. “Pl-” “I’m going to see the circus!” Les interrupted, the excitement evident on his face. Spot glanced at Les before returning his gaze to Jack.

Behind him, Albert nudged Race, prompting him to reach out and tap Spot on the arm. Spot turned his head ever so slightly to look back at Race, whose eyes pleaded with him to let Jack off the hook. Spot turned his back to Jack, and stood in silence for a few seconds before waving his hand in the air. They were in the clear. Jack gave Race a quick nod before continuing his walk. Spot stood watching them until they disappeared out of view.

They heard the circus before they saw it. Animated carnies yelled, “Come to the circus, it’s the best day of the year!” and loud horns played in the distance. The smell of fresh, buttery popcorn wafted through the air. Les couldn’t contain his happiness. He bounded over to the nearest booth, completely ignoring the ticket collector and tried to peer inside. “Hey kid! Where’s your ticket?” The collector yelled, standing up to block his view. Les stumbled back, stunned. A hand landed on his shoulder. “I’m sorry for any trouble he was causing, sir.” Davey’s voice came from behind him. “We were just on our way.” The collector gave them a stern look as Davey steered Les away, and Jack followed.

“I didn’t do nothin’,” Les was clearly irritated. “I was lookin’!” Davey shook his head. “Looking to get yourself in trouble.” Les pulled himself away from him, walking over to go stand by Jack’s side. “Jack told me I could look! I was lookin’, right Jack?”

Jack nodded in agreement. “Davey, ‘s okay, really. And Les, maybe ya should stay by da fence.” A long, metal fence surrounded the circus, keeping them out but still allowing them to view the vibrant red and white booths, the carousel’s intricate designs, the flashy costumes of the performers and the enticing fair food. The circus showed up annually and although Jack had never been, he had heard plenty from newsies who had seen it in passing. It was like nothing he had seen before.

Les looked longingly at the sight in front of him, and soon a man holding balloons came by. Immediately his eyes lit up. “Look, balloons!” He turned attention to Davey. “Could I get one, David? Please?” Davey shook his head. “I don’t want to have to explain to father why our earnings are significantly less than it was last time.” “I’ll work extra hard then! Younger sells more papes, remember?” Les insisted. “I said no, Les.”

Jack felt uncomfortable, as if he was intruding on something. Among the newsies, he was usually the one to break up fights and settle disagreements. He wasn’t used to this. “But-” Les tried again, only to be cut off by Davey. “Les, we can’t afford it. That’s final.”

Jack glanced awkwardly between them before holding up a finger to Les, and leading Davey a few feet away. “Listen,” He kept his voice low and dug around in his pocket. “I might have some spare change.” After all, he slept on the rooftop, so he sometimes did have a little extra money as opposed to the newsies who had to pay for a bed every night. He typically saved the extra cents in case a newsie happened to be down on their luck. Davey looked at Jack, his face turning red. “We’re no charity case.”

Jack felt as if he had been punched in the gut. The last time Davey had said those words to him were before he even knew Davey was Davey. Of course Jack knew that they weren’t a charity case, they both were hard workers and Davey hated asking anybody for anything.

“Stop thinkin’ dat’s what I means. I’s tryin’ to do a little somethin’ for da kid!” Davey forced a laugh. “What? I do not think that all the time! When’s the last time-” He stopped mid sentence, shocked. The last time he uttered those words was back in July. Back when he still didn’t trust Jack.

To make matters worse, Les had made his way over and they hadn’t noticed. He hated fights. He hated that his brother seemed so serious about saving money. Why couldn’t his enjoyment be just as important as what his family spent their money on? He didn’t understand.

“I think I’ve seen enough,” Les whispered, unknowingly breaking both Jack and Davey’s hearts. “We should go.”

Davey’s hands fiddled with his pencil. He was trying to study for a test, but he couldn’t stop thinking about what had happened earlier that day. Les had been silent since then, and had barely eaten anything at dinner. To make matters worse, their mother had told him that if he didn’t eat, he couldn’t sell papers on Sunday. Selling papers on Sunday (and the occasional Friday) was something that Les looked forward to, and he hated that his mother threatened to take that away from him. One by one, the family retreated, leaving Les at the table. Davey hoped some space would do him good. He also hoped he hadn't been too hard on him.

Plonk! Davey jumped slightly as something hit his window. And then hit again and again. He set down his pencil, lifted up the window and peered out. Jack stood below, waving his hand. “‘Punzel, ‘Punzel, let down ya… fire ‘scape, or whateva.” Davey laughed quietly, leaning out the window further to lower the fire escape to the ground. “I didn’t know you liked fairytales.” Jack shrugged, coming closer to the ladder. “Heard Katherine readin’ it to Smalls da udder day. Thought I’d try it on ya.” Jack grabbed a hold of the rungs and climbed up. Davey moved back a little to make room for him, but Jack held up a hand. “Not comin’ in Dave. I wanted to-” “I’m sorry I snapped. I shouldn’t have said that to you, you were just trying to help.” Jack met Davey’s eyes. “Don’t sweat it Dave. I shouldn’t have put ya on da spot like that.” They stood in silence for a minute before Davey noticed Jack’s eyes scanning the room. “How’s Les?” Davey looked down as the guilt kicked in. It had been nearly two hours since he had last checked in on his brother. In all honesty, he didn’t know how to go about it. He opened his mouth to speak but closed it again. He didn’t know how to respond, and Jack took notice. “Go check on da kid, I’ll see you’se tomorrow.” Davey sighed and nodded. “Good night.” He said quietly, and walked toward the kitchen.

Jack reached into his pocket, taking out a small, flat package wrapped in newspaper. He reached inside and pushed the window almost all the way down, before carefully placing the corner of the package under the window and shutting it.

Then he turned and started his way down the fire escape.

Les sat in front of a three-quarters-finished bowl of soup. His head was down, but the dried tears on his face were visible. Davey’s heart ached. He looked so small, so fragile. This was all because of him. He slowly walked over to the chair opposite Les and sat down. Les didn’t move. A long silence went by before Davey took a deep breath and broke the tension. “I’m sorry.” Les looked up slightly, blinking his eyes. “I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. I didn’t mean to be so harsh on you. I didn’t mean to take away your happiness. I’m sorry for taking so long to check up on you. I’m sorry for ruining today for you. I’m… sorry.” Davey’s voice was quiet and his fingers twitched nervously. “And you shouldn’t have to eat this if you don’t want to. I know that soup is colder than a brick right now.” Another minute of silence passed before Davey pushed back his chair and stood up. “Come here.” He said, outstretching his arms. Davey knew that hugs always made his brother feel better, especially hugs from their mother. Even though Davey wasn’t Esther, he could still try and comfort Les the best way he knew how to.

Les padded over to him, taking him up on the offer.

“Why can’t I ever buy candy? Or go to the toy store just once? It’s not fair.” Les sniffled. Davey remembered asking these questions too when he was his brother's age, but that was before he understood how the world worked. He knew his parents wished that they could give them everything and more, but it just wasn’t very possible. “It’s just the way things are right now. They’re doing the best they can. It’s not easy, but they’re trying. I’m sorry.”

They hugged for a few more minutes before Davey pulled back. “Go get ready for bed, you look tired.” Les nodded sadly, and began to walk toward the door. Suddenly, he turned around and faced Davey. “It’s okay.”

Les walked over to the small, wooden table to blow out a candle. But his attention diverted to the window, where something had caught his eye. He crossed the room and gingerly lifted up the window, the package falling in his hands. Bringing it over to the candle, he realized that “For Les” was scrawled in big, messy letters. His eyebrows raised in surprise and he tore open the newspaper.

In his hands, he held a piece of paper. His eyes were drawn to the small signature in the bottom right corner. Jack’s. And then he noticed the picture.

Balloons.

Little bursts of red, green, white, orange and blue balloons. They were outlined with a pencil, and had curly, straight and wavy strings attached to them. Les couldn’t believe his eyes. Each one looked vastly different from the other. They were beautiful. The paper smelt vaguely of food, and Les giggled to himself. Jack must’ve used old fruits and vegetables to get the pigment. But that didn’t matter because it was perfect; It was his. He hugged the picture to his chest like it was worth a million dollars. To him, it was if Jack had given him the world.

Les ran ahead of Davey to the circulation gate, and for the first time, Davey didn’t tell him to slow down. He was glad to see a smile back on his brother’s face. He sped up, just in time to see Les bum rush Jack.

Jack steadied himself to keep from crashing into the newspaper wagon as Les threw his arms around him. Then he froze. Now Jack had always been affectionate. He was used to ruffling the newsies’ hair, playfully punching their sides, and slinging his arms around their shoulders. But hugs? That wasn’t something that he was used to. Well, at least not anymore.

When he first became a newsie, he was made fun of a lot for “being soft.” He really wasn’t (as most kids who had gone through a significant amount of loss which caused them to learn how to fend for themselves weren’t), but at the time, he just wanted to feel loved. Nowadays, he would usually hug a younger newsie when they were still new and grieving the loss of their parents or when they occasionally suffered a nightmare. Hugs were something that came only on occasion.

But this was Les, and Les wasn’t letting go. Jack could hug him without worrying that he was going to be mocked. So he relaxed his shoulders, and pulled his arms around the boy. Les squeezed him even tighter then. Jack could barely breathe, but he would never say anything to Les about it - he would hate to hurt the kid’s feelings. Plus, he actually liked the hug. He didn’t realize how much he had missed them. A few more moments passed before Davey appeared, holding his and Les’ papers. He took one look at Jack’s face and tried his best to keep from bursting into laughter. “Les, let up some. You don’t want to squeeze his insides out.” Davey chuckled. Les let go and grabbed his papers out of Davey’s hands. As he was putting them in his bag, Davey’s eyes locked with Jack’s. His eyes told a million stories. “Come on,” Les said, grabbing Davey’s wrist. “I don’t wanna miss my usual customers!” Les began to run, dragging Davey with him. With his eyes still fixed on Jack, Davey mouthed “Thank you,” before turning around to face whatever the day had to offer.

[honeypirate]

Naruto Drabble 🤷🏼‍♀️

“I’ll just surround her with love and hope she finds happiness!” Naruto was saying about his love for Sakura, you biting your tongue as you hugged your arms around your torso in the background, but he wasn’t paying attention to you.

It was one of those days where he was so caught up in Sakura he just wanted to use you as an outlet.

“What about you Naruto?” You said, snapping for a moment “you deserve to be surrounded in love and happiness too!” You were exasperated. He would do all this for her and he didn’t care about himself but he needed to understand that he mattered too!

“I’m sorry I have to go finish paperwork. Talk to you later Naruto” you say as he stares at you in shock. You don’t wait for a response as you use your jutsu fade into the dirt.

Sitting on the roof of your building was a common occurrence when you had time to watch the sunset, Shikamaru often joined you when he saw you liked the same activity. You never spoke, just joined each other every once in a while to cloud watch in silence. A secret friendship that you knew was special.

Today was seemingly no different, Shikamaru was next to you like usual. but today he sighed and turned his head “you know this isn’t a relaxing experience when you’re thinking so damn loud” he said and you sigh

“Sorry I should go” you say and sit up

He follows “no” he says and then hesitated for a moment, looking away a little embarrassed as he breaches this new step in friendship “you can.. feel free to talk about it” he clears his throat “no judgement”

You laugh and nod, looking out at the village “I am hopeless and I wish it was easier for me to turn off my feelings” you say and sigh for the umpteenth time

“Still in love with Naruto then?” He asks and you gasp turning to meet his eye “how did you know?” You ask and he laughs

“Everyone knows but Naruto, Sakura, and Hinata” he says and your bury your face in your hands “that’s so embarrassing what do I do?”

He sighs like this is the worst thing ever “just avoid him for a while. Until the feelings go away” he suggests and you nod into your hands, waiting for the heat to dissipate from your cheeks.

You successfully avoided him for a week. He started to get increasingly more worried but then you were saved by a mission that would take you out of the village for a month. That was perfect! You thought, a month away to clear my head about Naruto.

A month away where all you thought about was naruto. Fucking hell. You wish you could carve your feelings from your body.

You get back and the first one to greet you at the gate was the familiar yellow haired guy in his signature orange.

“Welcome home! I’m glad you’re safe!” He says and pulls you into an excited hug “thanks” you say and awkwardly look away when he lets you go.

You go to walk away from him and he grabs your hand “wait” he says softly and you gasp, looking back at him.

“Please I need to talk to you” he says and you furrow your brows “meet me on your roof when you get done with the Hokage” he doesn’t wait for your reply, he lets go of your hand and takes off, stealing a page out of your book and making you smirk and roll your eyes.

Sure enough, you drop your pack at home and then find Naruto sitting on your rooftop, his hands behind him and his knees bent. You sit beside him and wait for him to speak.

“I thought a lot about what you said” he started and you started to mess with the fray in your jacket as your stomach fills with anxiety.

“I say a lot of things” you point out quietly and he laughs softly, turning to look at you but your vision was glued to your feet

“How I deserve to be surrounded in love and happiness too” his voice seemed softer in the light of the sunset, the village with a happy atmosphere and the bugs making noises in the background

You meet his eye after feeling his eyes on you for such a long time. He smiles at you softly, his eyes glittering in the sunlight.

“You’ve been one of my best friends since the academy” he says “and you’ve listened to me complain for years. But you’ve never made me feel bad for anything. Never made me feel unworthy or unloved. You’ve always made me feel like I matter and I belong ever since I met you. You’re one of my biggest sources of happiness and what I guess I’m trying to say is that I think I love you.” He laughs and smiles with his eyes closed “actual true love. The kind that surrounds you in happiness and feels like a family. Not a love that is one sided or a childhood obsession” he looked so soft and so genuinely innocent your heart melted.

“Naruto I .. are you sure?” You worry that he’s just saying this because he felt bad but then you realize Hinata once told him she loved him and he didn’t say it back or think he owed her. He wouldn’t do that with you either he was too good.

“I’ve never been more sure of anything else” he says with a firm nod.

“And you won’t change your mind if Sakura decides to like you? And what about Hinata I know how she feels about you” you ask tentatively and he laughs, held tilting as he takes your hand in his

“Sakura, it was never meant to be with her. and Hinata is a sweet girl but I don’t love her” he says so matter of factly that you laugh. Bubbling giggles out your throat as you throw your arms around his neck and hug him close.

“You love me?” You ask and he hugs you a little tighter, burying his face in your hair

“Yeah” he says “I love you”

You pull back and cup his cheeks “I love you too”

[1-800-roflmao]

Wash Day Delight Pt. 5

Rating:  General Audiences

WARNINGS:  None

Fandom:  Undertale (Video Game)

Relationships:  (Papyri Harem) Papyrus (Undertale)/Reader, Papyrus (Underfell)/Reader, Papyrus (Underswap)/Reader, Papyrus (Undertale) & Reader,  Papyrus (Underfell) & Reader

Characters:  Papyrus (Undertale), Reader, Edge (UF Pap), Blue (US Sans), Stretch (US Pap), Sans (Undertale), and Mentions of Other AU Skeletons

Add. Notes: Reader Is POC - mainly mixed/black coded with thick curly hair. I try to keep descriptions vague. Anyone is welcome to read.

*Papyrus has a moment to himself. Enter Sans, Blue, and Stretch. Edge proposes a toast.

**EDITED SINCE TUMBLR MIXED UP THE PARAGRAPHS

PREVIOUS || FIRST || NEXT

Papyrus was practically beaming at the opportunity he had caught by the horns that morning.  What a spectacular way to start his day!  He’d been only a little worried that she might shoot down his idea.  Okay, he had been very worried.  Especially considering she had explained she planned to do chores today as well.  Thank goodness, his brilliant mind was in tip top shape today!  And he didn’t have the little human here to fluster him.  It had also been lucky that Blue was there.  The excitable version of his brother had been quite eager to help him convince her to come over once he realized who he was texting and what was going on.

“REMIND HER HOW MUCH SHE LOVED OUR MASTER BATH!”  “SHE’S SUPPOSED TO BE PAMPERING HERSELF AND RESTING.  CHORES ARE NEITHER OF THOSE!”  “WE CAN ASSIST HER WITH THOSE CHORES IF THEY REALLY NEED TO BE DONE…”  “TELL HER I’LL GET MY BROTHER’S HOODIE FOR HER!”

That last suggestion he remembered had resulted in a long pause before Blue had laughed awkwardly under Papyrus’s questioning and only slightly judging gaze.  His judgemental gaze was soon pulled to his phone as she had replied with a wide-eyed emoji and then stars and then finally: 

Fluffy:  Promise?

He didn’t know whether to be impressed by Blue or disappointed in his friend that it had taken the simple promise of a hoodie to get her to agree so quickly.  Was it because it was Stretch’s specifically?  There was no way to tell since they had not offered anyone else’s clothing.  It stung for some reason.  Idly, he rubbed at his sternum to ease the odd pain away as he sent a reply back. 

CoolDude:  THE GREAT PAPYRUS! AND MALEFICENT BLUE! NEVER BREAK A PROMISE.

CoolDude:  WE’LL BE OVER IN JUST A FEW MINUTES TO PICK YOU UP

Fluffy:          Could you give me thirty?  

Fluffy:          I need to get dressed and pack a bag.

CoolDude:  OFCOURSE!  SEE YOU SOON!

Needless to say, it wasn’t long after the two had convinced her to come over that the whole household was made aware they would have a guest today in the family group chat.  Blue had run off to find his brother with a promise to come back in time to go.   Papyrus assumed he was going to try and convince his brother to give up his hoodie for the day.  They technically didn’t need it till later though.  Most likely she would be rushing off to the bathroom as soon as she stepped foot into their home.

Pocketing his phone, he settled into finishing the task Blue had been helping him with.  There were only a few more dishes left to clean from their late breakfast--brunch?  Was it still technically too early for brunch?  Shrugging, he lost himself in cleaning and tried not to watch the clock obsessively.  So hyper focused, he didn’t notice his brother shortcutting into the kitchen just beside him.

○●○●○●○●○

Sans just watched Papyrus currently wiping at the same spot on the counter for what seemed the umpteenth time.  “hey, bro, think you missed a spot,” he finally decided to make presence known.  He was rewarded with very on brand screech as his taller sibling nearly jumped through the ceiling in surprise.  Quite a feat considering they had purposely high ceilings.  

“SANS!!!”  Sans’ lazy perma smile just perked up as his brother stomped a foot and crossed his arms, sockets narrowing.   “WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT USING SHORTCUTS IN THE HOUSE?!”  Papyrus scolded, foot tapping away.  

“not to,” he answered without a care.  His tone said it all.   He’d do it again and again.  This was a war Papyrus would not win.  He bit back a laugh as his brother just sucked in a breath, palms pressed together in a praying motion in front of his teeth.  “aw, paps, come on, it’s not that bad,” he pleaded playfully.

“YOU ARE CORRECT,” Papyrus started and Sans arched a brow bone in mild surprise, “IT’S NOT THAT IT’S BAD.  IT IS SIMPLY FRUSTRATING THAT YOU HAVE TWO PERFECTLY FUNCTIONAL LEGS AND YET, YOU FIND EVERY OPPORTUNITY TO NOT USE THEM!” 

Sans just smiled in turn and that smile just stretched wider as he watched his brother literally flinch and glare even harder.  “NO.”  His sockets were practically curling with how big his smile was getting as Papyrus continued to command him to cease.  It was too late though.  It was already in motion.

“just trying to get a leg up on life, bro.”  It was like music to his nonexistent ears as Papyrus screeched that signature NYEH! of his.  He would have tossed a few more puns his brother’s way, but… “so, what has your spine in a twist?”  While he could guess what had his brother stressing--considering a certain human was visiting today--it did not hurt to ask.

His brother’s lazy pun had done its job to lighten his mood significantly.  He had expected more, but instead Sans had thrown a curveball.   The question was sobering.   He wasn’t stressed.  He wasn’t worried.  He wasn’t… right?   Picking up the rag he had used to clean the counters, he brought it to the sink and started ringing it out.  “MY SPINE IS PERFECTLY ALIGNED AS USUAL, SANS,” he replied, tossing the rag in to a small hamper just outside the connected laundry room.

Silence followed and he could feel his brother’s eyelights boring into his back.  “uh huh…” Yeah, that tone said he hadn’t believed a word of it.  Rather than pushing with words, his brother had settled for simply staring and tapping at the counter.  It was a battle of wills at this point.  

Just as the tapping of his brother’s phalanges against the countertop was starting to tick away his resolve, the tension was shattered as Blue reentered the kitchen with his own brother in tow.  Papyrus could hear the energetic version of  his brother nagging at his lazy self to wash his hoodie before lending it out.  Finally turning around, he aimed a bright smile at the swapped brothers; pointedly, he ignored his brother’s judging gaze.  “BLUE, I SEE YOU’VE SUCCEEDED IN CONVINCING YOUR BROTHER!” he declared, marching up to the two. 

A little amused huff escaped Blue, “DIDN’T TAKE MUCH CONVINCING HONESTLY,” he admitted.

“OH?” Papyrus looked to Stretch for elaboration and the other just gave an easy shrug.

“little miss has been eying my hoodie for a good bit,” he stated, an amused lilt to his voice, “was honestly surprised she never tried to sneak it or ask for it before now.”   

“SHE DIDN’T ASK FOR IT,” Papyrus found himself saying before he could think better of it.  It wasn’t a lie, but why did it feel like he said something mean.  That odd feeling was pressing at his sternum again.  

Stretch simply rolled the lollipop held in his jaws from one side to the other.  The hard candy clicking gently at the back of his teeth as he leveled a seemingly unbothered stare on his doppelganger, but Papyrus knew no matter how much the slouching brother seemed to act like his brother, he was still a Papyrus and Papyri were more observant than they often let on.  He knew those honey colored eye lights were searching for every little cue to put together the puzzle put before him.  

“THAT IS TRUE.  I DID OFFER IT,” Blue cut in, a shared moment of eye contact between the older brothers missed by the younger.  

 A little hum could be heard from Stretch as he straightened up with a roll of his shoulders in a mock stretch.  “hadn’t meant it to come off like that so let me reword,” he started with a short chuckle.  “she’d been wishing on all our sweaters and hoodies,” he amended, his lazy smile pulling up at the corners as he now had to look slightly down at his doppelganger without his usual slouch.

That ugly, heavy feeling wasn’t pressing as insistently after Stretch’s words.  “OH…” Papyrus hoped his voice came off as neutral.  Sadly, he could feel his magic betraying him as his cheekbones warmed.   

“you all can’t tell me you’ve never noticed,” he challenged the room, finally breaking his staredown with Papyrus as he looked to the other two occupants.

 Sans was the first to input his agreement with a shallow nod as he leaned on the counter.  “she tries to be subtle about it,” he remarked, an easy smile on his face as he rested his chin against his palm, “sneaking little glances here and there, dropping little hints…” His sockets closed with a happy curve as his deep laugh rumbled in his chest as he remembered the offhanded questions and shy beating around the bush their friend opted for instead of simply asking outright to borrow one of their jackets. 

Opening his sockets, he resumed watching his brother.  His light pink flush had dimmed and he had lifted a hand up to his mouth, digits curled as he seemed to be thinking.  He just smiled more as Papyrus seemed to be relaxing as he worked through his thoughts.  The more anecdotes they shared, the more his sockets seemed to widen with understanding.  

“LET’S NOT FORGET SHE HAD TRIED ACQUIRE YOUR SWEATER JUST LAST NIGHT, CREAMPUFF.”  Edge’s voice cut through the chatter.  They had all jumped and seemed to move as one to look at the sharp skeleton currently shutting the fridge door.  When had he come in?  Had they been so engrossed they had somehow missed him coming in?  Edge just smirked smugly at all of them as he carried the carafe of lemonade over to the island.

Sans just chuckled and turned his attention back to his brother.  His brow bones perking as he saw Papyrus’s smile wasn’t strained anymore and his tense posture had fled.  A glance to Blue and the other gave him the tiniest shrug before following it with a sneaky thumbs up.  Yeah, everything was good again.  Let’s not question it for now.  “hey, bro, don’t cha have a guest to pick up?” he commented.

The energetic duo both looked to the clock on the wall. A rather impressive synchronized gasp left the two. “NYEH!” “MWEH!” “WE’RE LATE!!”  The smaller skeleton just barely managed to catch the taller by the hand as he went to dash out the door.  “SORRY, PAPYRUS!  NO TIME FOR THAT!” Blue rushed out an apology before the smell of ozone filled the kitchen and barely a second later they were gone. 

○●○●○●○●○

“hey, Edge, mind pouring me a glass of that lemonade?” Stretch had settled at the island with a hopeful smile.  

   His request was met with a huff as Edge opened the cabinets above and retrieved a glass for himself, “POUR YOURSELF ONE, ASH TRAY.”  

The orange clad skeleton just hummed  around his lollipop before grabbing the sweet, honey flavored treat by it’s stick and removing it from his mouth.  “aww, why not?  you poured one for Sans there and he didn’t even ask,” he pouted playfully, gesturing to Sans who was nursing his glass of lemonade  just beside him. 

“don’t have to ask when you’re-” Both Papyri still in the room shot him a warning glare before he could even finish and he lifted his hands up in mock surrender.  “fine, fine , tough room,” he joked.  Edge just rolled his eyes, while Stretch let his glare linger a bit longer to make sure Sans didn’t try to sneak it in.

“I REFUSE TO WATCH YOU RUIN A PERFECTLY GOOD GLASS OF LEMONADE AGAIN,” the sharper skeleton stated as he poured his own glass and took a sip, sighing at the refreshing taste.  

Stretch feigned insult, “i’m not the only one who puts honey in their lemonade, edgelord.”

“NO, BUT I WOULDN’T SAY YOU ARE PUTTING HONEY IN LEMONADE WITH YOU,” Edge started, wrinkles forming on his nose ridge in disgust as he spoke, “NO, WITH YOU IT IS MORE ACCURATE TO SAY YOU PUT LEMONADE IN YOUR HONEY.”  He took a long sip like he could taste the sticky sweetness on his tongue and needed to wash it down.  

“you got me there,” Stretch popped his lollipop back in his mouth and settled in, laying against the counter with a resigned sigh.  He could hear Edge grumbling about how of course he was right.  Rolling his lollipop, he moved his attention back to Sans.  The prime doppelganger had simply been sitting quietly with an easy smile on his round skull.  As if sensing Stretch’s stare, his white eyelights locked with honey colored ones. 

“need something, pal?” The words held no threat or warning, just an invitation to ask away.

“what was up with your brother earlier?” Stretch already had a guess.  He just wanted confirmation at this point. The stout skeleton apparently had no plans to play along and just shrugged noncommittally.

“no clue what you’re talking about, Stretch,” Sans replied, finishing off his lemonade with a satisfied sigh, “thanks for the drink, Edge.”  He sent a genuinely thankful smile Edge’s way before the smell ozone once again filled the room and an empty glass was abandoned on the countertop before a now empty seat.

Edge fought down a smile that tugged at his teeth.  It wasn’t too hard with Stretch still in the room though.  Currently, the laidback skeleton was watching him with a curious look. “WHAT?” he snapped, scowling as a knowing grin was aimed at him.

“you’re in on it,” the other stated matter of factly.

“I AM IN ON NOTHING. AND QUIT THAT CLUELESS ACT,” Edge snipped, crossing his arms with a cocked hip, “I WAS THERE LONG ENOUGH TO SEE YOUR POSTURING EARLIER.”  It had been a surprise to see the usually passive skeleton standing to his full height and purposely towering over their prime version.  He cut off Stretch’s denial with a sharp growl, “I WON’T LISTEN TO BULLSHIT, STRETCH.”

Stretch just gave a defeated chuckle as he sat up in his seat.  “two for two today, Edge.  you’re on a roll,” he commended. 

Edge didn’t see nor hear any regret from his alternate.  The two simply took a moment to stare each other down.  A silent measuring up before the standing skeleton reached up into the cabinets and set down a new glass.  Curious honey eyelights watched as a lemonade was poured to only fill half the glass before it was slid over to him with a gentle push.  

 “what’s this?” Stretch questioned.  He leant forward in his seat and tilted his skull as he shifted his stare from the half full glass to Edge who was refilling his own.

“LEMONADE,” he answered smartly and Stretch didn’t bother restrain his rolling eyelights.

“i can see that.”

“THEN WHY ASK?” 

“you know that’s not wh-”

“JUST FILL IT WITH YOUR INFERNAL HONEY ALREADY,” Edge snapped, cutting Stretch off with an impatient scowl.  

Knowing he wouldn’t get anywhere with his darker counterpart, he fished in his pullover pocket and pulled out his signature bear shaped honey bottle.  Snapping the top, he upended the bottle over the glass and squeezed.  The viscous, thick amber liquid cut through the pale white lemonade and pooled at the bottom of the glass.  It took a minute to build the thick layer he wanted and once he was done, Edge handed him a spoon begrudgingly to stir his monstrosity.  Finished, he looked to Edge again questioningly only to see the other holding up his glass.  The sharp toothed skeleton had a cocky smirk on his skull, “IF YOU’RE SERIOUS ABOUT THAT CHALLENGE EARLIER, JUST KNOW YOU HAVE COMPETITION.”

Stretch was sure his jaw was on the floor as he realized what was going on.  He had known the tougher skeleton was soft on their human, but he hadn’t thought it went further than platonic interest.  That only left Willow and Mutt from the Papyri who seemed to show no romantic interest.  At least he hoped.  That may change considering today was the day for surprises.  Sucking in a breath, he sat up and raised up his own glass, tapping it against Edge’s with a less intense smirk of his own.  “noted,” he acknowledged, “but the true competitor is Creampuff, ya know.  you’ve seen those two together.”  

Edge nodded.  It was hard to miss the looks those two often sent to each other.  It could be absolutely suffocating at times to be in the same room as them when they start acting sweet and fluffy.  He took a moment before tapping his glass against Stretch’s for a second time, “A SECOND TOAST TO THE IDIOTS FINALLY WAKING UP,” before they each took a sip of their respective drinks.  

[hhjs]

saudade. (holding on. letting go.)

pairing ⇁ lee know x reader.

genre ⇁ angst, borderline fluff.

trope ⇁ exes to lovers. (again, i know. but it’s a good fit for him imo idk why)

word count ⇁ 1.6 k.

It was an awfully precarious position that you put yourself in, that was most certain. In that childish, scary feeling that comes with loving someone but loving them anyway.

And yet, in retrospect, you concluded, you'd do it all over again.

"Keep it."

You stared up at Minho's glossed over stare, the blinking light above contributed to rendering a vague view of his rubicund face, the little ornaments glued on to complement his sparkly eyeshadow, the extravagant looking satin shirt and you concluded, if the strong stench of alcohol didn't already give away that it was certainly not complete sobriety with which he was speaking, everything else did.

Underneath the act of being confused about the packaged banana bread he'd passed to you from across the counter while you bagged the rest of his groceries, you took the luxury of staring at him in an unabashed way - the newly dyed black hair unkempt, the narrow jut of his nose, small set of lips, completed by big, feline-like eyes - which seemed to be stand out amongst all the aforementioned features- and you waited for it to hit you suddenly for the umpteenth time since your awfully confusing dynamic had begun to flesh out, like a rush of blood to the head it came, a realisation, a secret, - that you want this to mean something, you want this to mean something so bad it hurts.

"What?" His bored frown was quickly replaced by a set of pouted lips at your reluctance.

You wanted to hate Minho for it, his proclivity to be hot and cold that ever so often served as a reminder that this split wasn't at all cut and dry - now, you reasoned, aren't drunken gestures supposed to convey sober feelings? Or was it just nothing more than wishful thinking on your part? "It's your favourite."

Minho said this with such unwavering certainty, even in his inebriated stupor, that you wondered when he'd come to know you so well. If he knew everything about you. And when you let him. If you let him.

Your idle fingers made a quick move of shifting your cap down to shield an expression of fluster once you managed to tear your gaze off of his face. "Yeah." You cleared your throat, slowly repeating, "It's my favourite."

(He smiled lazily, slowly dragging his fingers to brush them against your cheek, in an unhesitating manner that conveyed touching you was a habit. And you begin to ask yourself where it all began, how it all started, how it got to this, you imagined holding a map before your perplexed face and looking for the routes, the passages, the oceans, the rivulets, the cities and every little thing that plotted your falling so miserably in love with Minho. All over again.)

...

When the engines rumbled again.

You were positive about two things; one, seven minutes in heaven had outlived all its contenders in the department of shitty alcohol induced games college students thrived on - and two, this wasn't the first time you were seeing Minho behind his moody barrier that initially gave you a different impression from the awfully cheerful personality he was around your miniscule circle of friends.

Through the course of being his ex partner, spending much time in his apartment, in his bed; maintaining a poor recreated "friendship" even after the breakup, you'd begun to understand that it was not intention that led Minho to assume the position of a renowned tsundere - 

But it was only just that he didn't know how to express himself. 

Though that wasn't true for your encounters. You were too familiar with him for his own good, not failing to notice the way he seemed to slacken around you, despite the big change in your dynamic, a permanent crack through which you could make out the unknown territories of his heart. 

That, to a great extent, satisfied you. 

There was a great opportunity to rekindle. Because in hindsight, it was merely a stupid fight that brought you to where you are; and frankly, with the kind of pride both of you had, it was impossible to know who’d take the first step.

Now that you think about it, it’s almost as if your friends put you up to the transpiring events, the setting suspiciously working in your favour.

Before your turn came up, you took note of Minho's unwillingness for the game when he tried to get up halfway but Jisung yanked him down with a sly grin on his face, like it was an apparent punishment for poking too cruel jokes at him; so now, you paused, partially hopeful, partially scared, watching Minho, if he objected with being paired with you, this was his chance to show it and you would tap out.

But Minho didn't say anything, sticking to simply following you behind through the famiiar territory of your flat. His footsteps mimicked yours, growing louder and louder. Softer and louder. Louder and softer.

After staring at the cracked paint of a wooden door that was now secluding you from the rest of your friends, an attempt to gather enough courage to let the situation sink in was being made - you were alone now, you could recognise his scent, under the fabric softener and after shave and cheap cologne, a distinct fragrance that solely belonged to him. It's the first time you'd been so close after he'd decided to break it off, the warmth radiating off of his body felt at a daunting proximity.

His long fingers ghosted along your shoulders in a smoothing down motion as he leaned forward to say something, his breath tickling the back of your neck.

You made a quick, impulsive gesture to flaunt how you were completely unfazed by this movement.

Minho gasped, the noise passing through pursed lips. His stare flickered between the now emptied solo cup in your hand to the purple stain on his sweater, blinking gaze scanning you with judgement, he held his arms up from his body and your interest for this game mitigated as fast as it surfaced.

"I told you not to carry drinks around the house. You always spill." He chided, shaking his head in dismay. It was impossible to think of a manner to immediately treat the stain in here, where accessing detergent was a distant remedy since you’re only surrounded by boots, heels and sneakers. You groaned, running your hands over your face, looking up at him through the gaps of your fingers, “Just take it off before it gets on your shirt, will you?”

He grumbled under his breath but resorted to slow compliance, pulling the dark fabric over his head, balling it up in his hands to set it atop a shoe box.

The blinking studio light above was on the verge of giving out but its fading colour still succeeded in bringing his sharp features to an intimidating exposition, dull gold dousing the tip of his nose, his high cheekbones, his mouth, his chin and the jut of his Adam's apple in thick, frequent splatters, out of reach in areas where his long eyelashes casted thin streaks of shadows.

It was only when Felix made an announcement of the remaining minutes you had at hand that you were pulled right out of your trance.

There was a faint blush pooling into his cheeks whilst his gaze flitted between your eyes to your mouth as if to communicate that he was making an attempt to gauge your intentions. He shoved his hands inside his pockets, assuming your stationarity for reluctance. "This is stupid." He huffed.

You rolled your eyes. "You act like we haven't done worse."

Minho avoided your gaze, his face only seemed to deepen in colour, "That's why it's stupid."

"But you’re blushing though!" You cooed, reaching out to pinch his reddening cheeks, which only seemed to aggravate the colour and subsequently prompted Minho to grab a hold of your wrist, pulling you close enough for you to make out the distinct black of his eyes, not a single speck of another colour visible in them.

"No, I'm not."

It was then that you decided to act on temptation, in a memorised manner. But also, not really. Because it's daunting, every time, you've to remind yourself that it's just as easy to let go of Minho as it is to hold onto him.

And in spite of this, it has always meant something so much more to you. So much more than you've allowed yourself to express.

No, you told yourself, you want him to come to you this time, you want him to tell you how he feels without making you wonder. You want him to want you for good or not at all.

But that doesn't stop you.

Minho raised an eyebrow, watching you attentively. Completely unsuspecting.

You placed your hands on his shoulders and pecked his parted lips briefly before returning to your position with a nervous tick of rubbing your hot nape over and over again.

The sudden act seemed to have deemed him speechless, his lips were still pouted, giving away that he hadn't quite recovered from the unanticipated kiss, blinking momentarily until his expression morphed to something indecipherable, giving away that a sudden thought had hit him.

He made a quick move of cupping your face with his hands as his thumbs swiped across your cheeks, kissing you in a proper fashion. You reached out to tug at his raven strands in an endeavour to deepen the gesture which elicited a deep throaty groan from him, prompting the act of bumping your head accidentally against the door.

You should've pushed him away, should've fed him some made up litany about how you were completely "over" him, like you'd practised in your head over the months -

But you didn't. You hadn't. You couldn't.

And maybe, just maybe, you didn't want to.

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 19 - Shoot The Moon

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

Summer has ended and students return to King’s Cross to begin another year at Hogwarts. 

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note:

For some reason Tumblr wouldn’t take my formatting like it has with previous chapters. I swear it’s a freaking crap shoot whether it will EVERY time I poster on here. It would be nice to know how that works...

Anyways, please enjoy :) 

Masterlist

<<<Chapter 18

 Summer days are gone too soon

You shoot the moon

And miss completely

And now you’re left to face the gloom

The empty room that once smelled sweetly

Of all the flowers you plucked if only

You knew the reason

Why you had to each be lonely

Was it just the season?

 Hermione Granger was nothing if not a punctual person. At the best of times she was fifteen minutes early and at the worst she was on time. However, she should have known that the Weasley family would want to stick true to their tradition of arriving at King’s Cross by the skin of their teeth. Tapping her foot impatiently as she stood in the busy kitchen, Hermione worked very hard at fighting off a headache. Mrs. Weasley was screaming at the twins for charming their trunks and accidentally knocking Ginny down two flights of stairs and Walburga was screaming because Mrs. Weasley was screaming. She checked her watch for the umpteenth time that morning and ran a hand over her hair. They may not even make it on time at all if they carried on this way, she thought irksomely. Especially if they waited any longer on Sturgis Podmore to show up like Moody wanted them to. The last thing she needed was to miss the train on her first day as a Prefect. Smirking to herself, Hermione stared down at the silver pin fitted snuggly to the front of her jumper and admired it. Prefect. She had done it. Just one step closer to Head Girl.

A tap at the kitchen window brought Hermione out of her musings. Looking up she saw the brilliant, snowy visage of Hedwig. Hermione sighed, striding towards the window, and throwing it open. Hedwig flew in, looking quite flustered for a bird. Perhaps she also knew they were running late. Cursing in her head, Hermione wondered if perhaps her parents had forgotten that today was the day she left for Hogwarts. Why else would they have chosen to send Hedwig back so late in the morning? She took the letter from her parents out of Hedwig’s clutch and then allowed the bird to climb onto her shoulder. The owl’s long talons dug sharply into her skin, holding on for dear life as Hermione sprinted out of the kitchen and up the stairs. On the second floor landing she spotted Crookshanks stalking a stray mouse and scooped him up as well. The giant orange beast squirmed in her arms, putting up a fight but possessing enough respect to keep his claws put away.

 “Oh stop, Crooks. Honestly, you’ve spent all summer doing whatever you please. Just cooperate with me for one second,” Hermione groaned, holding onto her cat even tighter and bounding up the last flight of stairs to Harry and Ron’s room.

 “Sorry Harry! Mum and dad only just sent Hedwig back,” she apologized, walking across her friends’ messy room to place Hedwig in her cage. “Are you just now getting dressed?”

 “Uh yeah, I slept late,” Harry mumbled, buttoning the last button on his shirt, and moving to pull on his socks and shoes.

 Hermione sighed, placing Crookshanks down on the bed and taking a moment to stare critically at her best friend. Harry had mentioned the resurgence of his nightmares earlier in the summer when she found him wandering the halls late at night. She had been on her way back to her room from another late-night library session with Fred, but of course she didn’t tell Harry that. While what her and Fred were doing wasn’t necessarily wrong, there was an unspoken agreement between the two of them that they should keep it to themselves. People just wouldn’t understand.

 However, looking at Harry now, Hermione didn’t need her former knowledge of Harry’s nightmares to know that he wasn’t sleeping well. He had circles under his eyes, and despite Mrs. Weasley’s cooking the past month he still looked too thin.

 “How’s Ginny?” Harry asked, tying his laces.

 Hermione rolled her eyes. “She’s fine. Mrs. Weasley is patching her up in the kitchen. I wouldn’t go down there right now though if I were you. It’s a zoo. Mrs. Weasley and Walburga are still yelling and now Mad-Eye’s complaining that we can’t leave until Sturgis Podmore shows up. Otherwise the guard will be one short,” said Hermione, leaning against the end of the bed and petting Crookshanks idly.

 “Guard?” Harry asked, looking up from his shoes. “We have to go to King’s Cross with a guard?”

 “You have to go to King’s Cross with a guard,” corrected Hermione.

 “Why?” questioned Harry, standing up in an irritated fashion.

 Hermione scoffed, “Why do you think, oh Boy Who Lived?”

 “I thought Voldemort was supposed to be lying low. What, do they think he’ll be waiting behind a dustbin at the train station, waiting to do me in?”

 “I don’t know. It’s just what Mad-Eye says,” said Hermione, fighting to stay calm and sympathetic. She was getting a bit tired of Harry’s moody demeanour.

 Her assumption about Harry’s arrival at the beginning of the month had been correct. Harry had been irate. At everyone, but especially at her and Ron. Luckily, Fred and George swooped in at the right time, just like Fred had said they would. Bless the both of them. Hermione didn’t know how much more chastising she could take, she already felt guilty for not writing to him. She’d apologized at least a thousand times over in the last month, but Harry still had a sour mood and while Hermione had been prone to tears at the beginning, now she was just frustrated.

 “Look, I’m not too happy about it either. Do you think I want to be late today?” Hermione asked snippily, looking at her watch once again.

“Will you lot get down here now?!” Mrs. Weasley’s bolstering voice boomed up through the stairwell and Hermione pushed off the bed with a sigh. She grabbed Crookshanks in her arms once again and headed towards the door. “Are you coming?” she asked once she got to the doorway.

 “Yeah, right behind you,” nodded Harry, looking a bit pink in the face. Perhaps her comment had embarrassed him. Hermione smiled at the thought. It would do him good to remember he wasn’t the only one with problems in the world.

 Hermione hurried down the stairs, running into the twins halfway down.

 “Well if it isn’t our favourite little Prefect,” said George, reaching out and ruffling the top of Hermione’s head. Hermione batted his hand away before reaching the bottom of the stairs and placing Crookshanks in his carrier.

 “I’m not speaking with you two,” she sniffed, looking away from them and instead focusing her attention on getting the finicky latch closed tightly on her cat’s wicker carrier.

 “Oh? Why’s that Hermione?” the two asked in unison.

 “I’m annoyed with you both,” responded Hermione in an off-handed manner.

 “Annoyed?” asked Fred with a shocked tone.

 “With us?” asked George, sounding equally as surprised.

 “That can’t be right—” Fred leaned against the wall beside her and took the strap from Hermione’s hands, latching the carrier closed with ease “—we’re angels, we are.”

 “You knocked your sister down two flights of stairs!”

 “By accident!” cried Fred and George.

 “Yes, well still. I hope you know that I will not tolerate that kind of behaviour once we get to Hogwarts.”

 “I knew this would happen Freddie,” said George, shaking his head solemnly.

 “We really should have prepared ourselves more for this inevitable betrayal,” added Fred woefully.

 “Our little Hermione, a swotty Prefect.”

 “No more fun.”

 “No more laughs.”

 “Oh the laughs we’ve had,” bemoaned George wistfully, throwing himself dramatically onto Fred’s shoulder.

 “You two are ridiculous—” Hermione shook her head, unable to stop the smile from forming on her face “—I told you before. Just because I’m a Prefect doesn’t mean I’m going to stop being fun—”

 “You were fun before?” asked Ron cheekily, entering the hallway with a cauldron cake in hand.

 Hermione scowled at him. “Ha, ha, very funny Ron. You know, you’re a Prefect too now. You should start practicing a bit more civility.”  

 Ron smirked, ignoring her comment, and instead taking a bite of the cauldron cake before going over to stand near Tonks and Ginny.

 Hermione turned back to the twins who stared down at her expectantly, waiting to hear the rest of the speech she’d given at least three times over since she’d received the letter with her silver Prefect pin. “Now, as I was saying. I’m not going to turn into a monster. Just realize that I have an obligation to the school first and I won’t hesitate to reprimand you if need be.”

 “Reprimand, you hear that Freddie?” asked George with an impish expression.

 “Sure did Georgie,” answered Fred, looking equally as puckish.

 “What are you going to do, Hermione?”

 “Give us a bit of a spanking?”

 Hermione blushed, furiously and against her better judgement. But she was more well-versed in the ways of the Weasley twins and so her embarrassment did not stop her from responding like it might have in previous years. Instead, she looked up confidently at the two and tried to put on what she could only imagine was a semblance of seduction. “Only if you’ve been bad boys.”

 The twins balked at her comment, mouths hanging open and ears tinging pink in a fashion very similar to Ron but very unfamiliar to them. Fred and George Weasley did not get embarrassed easily. If they had any kind of response, there was no time for it. A moment later, Mrs. Weasley came into the hallway from the kitchen and Harry came down the stairs. Walburga was still screaming insults from the wall, but all ears were trained on Mrs. Weasley’s instructions on who was going with who to King’s Cross and what to do with their trunks.

 A whirlwind of people, crosswalks, and magical barriers and Hermione was finally on Platform 9 ¾. In a way, Hermione was glad they had walked to the train station. It had given her a sense of control on how quickly they reached the train and she had practically run the entire way, Mr. Weasley and Ron on her heel. Once the stress of getting on the train was gone, Hermione was faced with a whole slew of new worries. Sirius had insisted on coming to the station with them and had done his absolute most to stand out like a sore thumb in his Animagus form.

 “He shouldn’t have come with us,” she said, watching the black dog chase the train exuberantly, as they took off from King’s Cross. The students in the train watched it laughing, and even some of the parents left on the platform smiled at the rambunctious dog. They wouldn’t be so cheerful if they knew it was Sirius Black, escaped Azkaban prisoner, thought Hermione cynically.

 “Oh give him a break. He hasn’t seen daylight in ages. Just blowing off a bit of steam he is,” said Ron, continuing to smile out the window at the dog quickly dwindling in size as the train travelled further from the station.

 “Well, as much as we’ve enjoyed your company these past few months, Georgie and I have some important business with people who well…”

 “—aren’t you lot,” George finished for Fred, giving them a short wave before the pair of them turned and disappeared into the next carriage.

 Hermione sighed, not even wanting to begin to think of the trouble they were sure to get up to. Over the remaining month they’d managed to nearly perfect their line of Skiving Snacks and have an admirable inventory at their dispense. As a Prefect, Hermione tried not to think about it. The less she knew, the better.

 “Should we find a compartment then?” asked Harry, turning to her and Ron looking the most cheerful he had all summer. It made what Hermione had to say next even harder. She chanced a look at Ron who was looking equally as guilty.

 “Oh…Harry. I thought you knew. Ron and I have to go to the Prefect’s carriage,” she said, watching the smile fall from Harry’s face. She looked back to Ron, hoping for some support but he was looking anywhere but Harry, focusing intently on one of the wall-mounted light fixtures as if he were seeing it for the first time.

 “Oh—” Harry nodded “—right. Fine.

 “I don’t think we’ll have to be there the whole time. Just long enough to get instructions from the Head Boy and Girl and then we have to patrol the corridors from time to time. We can still—”

 “It’s fine,” said Harry, cutting her off. He was using the clipped, overtly chipper tone he used when he was trying too hard to sound casual. “I might see you later then.”

 “Yeah, definitely!” Ron finally chimed in. “It’s a shame we have to go down there. I’d rather we didn’t, but…we have to. I guess…I mean I’m not enjoying it. I’m not bloody Percy.”

 Harry smiled again, this time in amusement at Ron’s rambling. “I know you’re not,” he said before waving them off to the Prefect compartment.

 Despite his reassurances that he was fine, Hermione felt guilty for leaving Harry there on his own.

 “He’ll be alright,” said Ron, leading her down the corridor towards the front of the train where the Prefect carriage waited for them. “I’m sure he’ll find Seamus or Dean or Neville or someone.”

 “Oh right…”

 It was easy to forget that they all had other friends outside of their small inner circle. Especially since for the longest time, Ron and Harry were her only friends. At least, her only close friends. Neville was her friend, she supposed. As were Fay and Emmy. She might even stretch as far as to say Lavender and Pavarti were her friends as well. Well…maybe more like close acquaintances.

 “Who do you think they chose for Slytherin Prefects?” Ron asked as they neared the front of the train.

 “With our luck it’ll be Malfoy and Parkinson,” grumbled Hermione, reaching the door to the Prefect’s compartment and sliding it open. It was almost poetic the way the moment the words left her mouth, the opening compartment door revealed none other than the two Slytherins in question. They sat in the corner, side-by-side, looking bored and smug. Their expressions only seemed to lighten when they spotted Ron and Hermione entering the compartment.

 “And I thought being a Prefect was supposed to be a place of honour—” Malfoy sneered, looking her and Ron up and down in a condescending manner “—now that I know they’ll give the job to just anyone, it takes away a bit of the prestige.”

 Pansy snickered.

 “Funny, I was just thinking the exact same thing,” Hermione spat back, staring Malfoy in the eye as she tried to telepathically burn him alive. If ever there was a time for emotion-fuelled accidental magic, thought Hermione, now would be it.

 “How dare you, you—”

 “Now, now—” cut in Roger Davies, a seventh year Ravenclaw and the newly appointed Head Boy “—leave the house rivalry for the classroom and the quidditch pitch.” Davies laughed, but Hermione could see the nervous glint in his eye as he gripped his wand tightly.

 “Bloody git,” Ron mumbled under his breath. Hermione didn’t know whether he was referring to Malfoy or Davies, but either way Hermione felt like it was fitting. The rest of the compartment seemed to feel the same as her, as both the Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff Prefects were giving Davies wary looks while trying to create as much space as possible between themselves and the Slytherins. Hermione was grateful to see that the other Prefects were familiar faces. Padma Patil, Pavarti’s sister, was the spitting image of her twin and gave Hermione a small wave as she sat down. Hermione, while having limited interaction with the Ravenclaw, found that she liked her much more than Pavarti as they had a shared interest for learning. Anthony Goldstein, the other Ravenclaw Prefect, she recognized from Transfiguration classes years prior. He also gave them a brief greeting. Ernie MacMillan was there too, and while Hermione still didn’t care for him since his spread of lies about Harry their second year, his presence was soothed by the kind and quiet Hannah Abbott who sat next to him.

 “Now!” exclaimed Helen Monroe, the Head Girl, some time later. They were coming near to the end of their meeting, or at least that’s what Hermione assumed based on the agenda they had been given. Their meeting had taken much longer than either Hermione or Ron had anticipated. Ashamedly she thought of Harry sitting on his own in a compartment waiting for them. Merlin she hoped he had found someone to sit with instead of choosing to mope by himself. Maybe Fred and George had found him at the very least.

 “The last thing on our agenda we’d like to address before handing out patrol and meeting schedules is an issue of favouritism,” said Monroe with a smiling face.

 “Favouritism? What do ya mean?” asked Ernie, sounding affronted as if he’d just been personally accused of the offense.

 “Well, in the past we’ve had issues with Prefects showing house favouritism—”

 “—giving points where they’re undeserved and taking points away to give their house a leg up on winning the House Cup,” chimed in Davies.

 “And we just wanted to remind you that your responsibility is to the school and it’s students first and foremost. So please try and show some sense of neutrality, no matter who is involved, whether it’s those in your house or…family members…” Monroe shot a nervous look in Ron’s direction that Ron missed but Hermione did not.

 For a second she wondered if perhaps they were talking about Harry, given he was so prone to getting in trouble and then the truth of the implication hit her square in the face. Maybe she was spending too much time with Fred and George otherwise, she would have caught on immediately that that was exactly who the Heads were referring to. Hermione wanted to laugh. She almost did. Bringing a hand up to cover her mouth, she faked a cough to try and hide the bout of giggles threatening to escape her chest.  

 They were given their schedules after that. Hermione and Ron had the first set of patrols up and down the train, and so instead of heading straight towards Harry, they meandered down from the head of the train, peaking into compartments, and breaking up little spats between younger students. Ron seemed to take to the position of power quite well. Almost too well in some instances, Hermione having to remind him of the speech they’d just been given about abuse of power in favour of their house. He had been trying to take points from a group of third year Slytherins for being too loud – an offense that Hermione deemed worthy of a simple reminder. They were about halfway down the train, Ron trying to reverse a jelly-legs curse that had been set on a fourth year Ravenclaw by accident, when a compartment slid open and Hermione nearly collided with Angelina Johnson.

 “Oh!—” the Gryffindor chaser exclaimed, stopping short “—Hermione. Hi.”

 “Hi…” Hermione responded awkwardly, unsure of what to say. Suddenly she was very nervous, which was ridiculous because she had nothing to be nervous about! It’s not like her and Fred had really done anything. Intimate? Sure. But in a friendly sort of way. Nothing that when taken into context could be deemed inappropriate, reasoned Hermione. Although, if that were true then she wouldn’t have anything to be nervous about.

 “How was your summer?” the older girl asked.

 The question took Hermione by surprise. Why did Angelina Johnson care about her summer? They weren’t friends, and up until that point Hermione was under the impression that Johnson didn’t even like her all that much.

 “Fine. I spent most of it with Ron’s family,” Hermione said, trying to push past how odd it felt to be having a conversation with Fred’s girlfriend when she was madly in love with him and had spent most of her summer nights curled up on a couch or in his bed with him. In a totally appropriate way of course.

 “I thought you might have. George mentioned one time that you usually visit them during the summer,” said Johnson, nodding and looking nervously around them.

 “How was your summer? I heard you spent it at quidditch camp. How was that?” Hermione asked, trying to bridge the uncomfortable silence between them with polite conversation. Why were they still talking?

 “It was good. Yeah, really good. I learned a lot of…stuff.”

 Hermione nodded, raising her eyebrows in acknowledgement. When Johnson neglected to continue, Hermione glanced back in the compartment where Ron was patting an exhausted looking Ravenclaw student on the back, having just broken the curse. She wished he’d hurry up and save her from whatever was going on right then. Her attention was pulled back to the uncomfortable conversation when Johnson spoke once again.

 “Listen, Granger. Now that I’ve got you, I was wondering…” Johnson paused, seeming to contemplate her next words. “I was just wondering whether—”

 “There you are!” Ron exclaimed, exiting the compartment behind Hermione, and placing a hand on her shoulder. “You know, I really could have used your help in there. You’re much better at counter-curses than me Hermione. Oh, hi Johnson.”

 The older girl seemed to go all rigid and awkward at the appearance of Ron. She shifted from foot to foot and cleared her throat before straightening her position and taking on a completely different demeanour. “Weasley. How was your summer?”

 “Good, thanks. Not as good as yours I imagine. Quidditch camp! That must have been amazing!” mooned Ron, getting a sparkly look to his eye at the thought.

 “Yeah, it was great. Learned loads of stuff that should be sure to put Gryffindor in the lead this year. We need a new Keeper now that Oli, I mean—” Johnson coughed “—now that Wood’s gone. Will you be following the Weasley legacy and trying out?”

 Ron went red around the ears, ducking his head bashfully. “Actually, yeah. I thought I might.”

 “Good. I look forward to seeing what you’ve got,” said Johnson with finality before giving them both a small nod and moving past them down the train corridor.

 As strange as the interaction had been, only one thing seemed to stick with Hermione in that moment.

 “You didn’t tell me you were planning on trying out for the team!”

  Fred reckoned he should have known the minute Angelina neglected to show up to their usual compartment that something was up. Alicia had given some offhanded excuse of Angelina going to scout out compartments for potential quidditch recruits and Fred had bought it at face value. In the past he might have questioned it a bit more, gone looking for his long-time friend and currently girlfriend. But in a way it had been a relief for him to not have to deal with the issue of Angelina the moment he got on the train. He was much too excited to show Lee and Alicia their new products and didn’t want to sully it by breaking up with his girlfriend. It had been a long-time coming. He’d wanted to end things weeks ago but had ultimately decided that he couldn’t do it over letter. Him and Angelina had history and she definitely deserved more than a letter saying ‘Hey, this isn’t working. Mind if we just go back to being friends?’. Not to mention the girl got harder and harder to reach as the summer went on. The last letter she’d sent him had been nothing but a picture of her and the beater for the Holyhead Harpies with the words ‘Isn’t this rad? Missing you lots! x Angelina’ written on the back. And while it was cool, Fred couldn’t help but think that in a way it was a finality to their relationship for him. The two of them had never really been gossipy conversationalists, falling back more on their shared physical activities and the comfortable silence that came with old friendships, but this was a bit too sparse for him. He wanted more. He wanted something different. He wanted…Hermione.

 Luckily after the reveal of their new products, Lee wasted no time in bringing other students into their compartment to show off their goods. Before Fred knew it, he and George were completely immersed in their salesmen roles and so all thoughts of girls and relationships were quickly replaced with galleons, sickles, and knuts.

 By the time he and George had made it to the castle their pockets were significantly heavier and their spirits lighter than ever. They were almost completely out of fake wands, biting teacups, and spitting teapots. They had even been convinced by a group of second year Hufflepuffs to sell some of their Skiving Snack Box products – the sweets not yet fully through trial runs. Fred and George agreed but only if they were willing to report back on the effects. The students were happy to do so as it meant they got the sweets at a discount.

 The next clue that went unnoticed by Fred was the fact that Angelina chose to sit at the opposite end of the table as him at the feast. But Fred had been too excited, telling Hermione all about their sales, to notice. Besides, Alicia and Lee were sitting with her and Fred and George usually sat with their family at the start-of-term feast. Still, when Fred caught Angelina’s eye at the end of the table as the last of the first years took their seats, he found himself panicked at the odd look on his girlfriend’s face. Did she know? wondered Fred feeling the all too familiar summersault in his stomach. How could she possibly know? The only person who knew he wanted to break up with her was himself. He hadn’t even told George, although he suspected that George suspected as much.

 The churning sensation stuck with him all throughout dinner and resulted in him eating very little, something that did not go unnoticed by neither George nor Hermione.

 “You alright, mate? You barely touched your porkchops,” said George, licking the last of his chocolate ice cream from the back of his spoon.

 “Yes, and you didn’t even fight Ron for the last of the custard,” added Hermione, her comment touching Fred as she had remembered custard was the only pudding he really cared for.

 “I’m fine. My stomach’s just a bit upset,” he lied, chewing on the side of his thumb as he stared down at the table, tracing the grain of the wood with his eyes.

 “Maybe you should go and see Madame Pomfrey once the feast is over,” suggested Ginny kindly. Fred shot her an appreciative smile before returning his gaze to the table.

 “Well, now that our stomachs are full and our hearts are warm from friendly conversation, I’d like to take a moment of your time to go over the usual start-of-term announcements,” Professor Dumbledore’s gentle yet authoritative voice rang throughout the hall, pulling all attention to himself at the centre of the staff table. He went into his usual diatribe on how the Forbidden Forest was of course, forbidden, how Filch wanted to remind them that magic was off-limits in the corridors between classes, etc. etc. Lastly, he announced that there would be two changes in staffing: Professor Grubbly-Plank was back to take over his position as the teacher for Care of Magical Creatures, and their new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher was a woman named Professor Umbridge.

 At the mention of her name, Fred looked down the staff table for the first time that night to see a new addition. A stout, round woman in a garish-looking pink outfit sat where the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher usually did. Despite her loud outfit she had a very unpleasant look about her, decided Fred. Although, it didn’t really make much of a difference to him. They had a new Defense teacher just about every year now and seeing as it was his last year, it really was inconsequential. They were all the same in the end.

 “Hey, I know her,” commented Harry. “She was at my hearing at the ministry.”

 Fred found that kind of odd. What was a ministry official doing teaching at Hogwarts?

 Dumbledore moved on, beginning to talk about quidditch try-outs when the new DADA teacher did something that made her stick out from all the other defense teachers before her. She stood from her seat. Dumbledore stopped, midsentence and looked at the short woman. Professor Umbridge let out a, “Hem, hem,” and Fred thought for a second that he must be hallucinating. Was this woman really interrupting the headmaster to give some kind of speech? More gracious than Fred could ever imagine to be, Dumbledore allowed her to speak and speak she did.

 Her speech was long-winded, full of comments about Hogwarts’s greatness and how the Ministry placed a lot of stake into the education of young minds. It sounded like a lot of hot air in Fred’s opinion and one glance around the room at the other student’s and even some of the teacher’s faces told him that he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. When Professor Umbridge had the audacity to say that she hoped they would all become great friends Fred couldn’t help but utter a sarcastic, “That’s likely” which was mimicked in time by George as well.

 Then she spoke of progress and change and how things must be done for the better and Fred felt an all-new unease take over him. An unease that radiated throughout the entirety of the room for once she had finished and taken her seat, the hall was much quieter than before.

 “Well that was certainly illuminating,” Hermione whispered from beside him.

 “Don’t tell me you enjoyed that shite,” said Ron exasperatedly. “That had to be the most boring thing I’ve ever heard.

 “I said it was illuminating, not good,” sniped Hermione. “It certainly put things into perspective.”

 “It did?” asked Harry. “Sounded like a load of waffle to me.”

 “Yes, well there was a lot of important stuff in all that waffle if you’d been listening,” said Hermione, her mood turning dark. She had Fred’s attention now as well.

 “There was?” asked Ron dumbly.

 “All that talk of ‘progress for the sake of progress’ and ‘practices that must be prohibited’?”

 Ron and Harry shrugged at her, but Fred was beginning to understand what Hermione was getting at. If Umbridge worked for the ministry and believed that changes needed to be made at Hogwarts then—

 “It means the Ministry’s interfering at Hogwarts,” said Hermione, surmising Fred’s conclusion perfectly.

 The room burst into applause, Dumbledore having finished the last of his announcements and then students began to rise from their seats. Ron and Hermione stood, leaving to escort the first years back to Gryffindor tower. Fred laughed with George when Hermione looked like she was about to lose her head when Ron called the first years ‘midgets’. Turning his head away from the squabbling pair, his eyes fell once again on Angelina.

 Fred swallowed thickly.

 If ever there was a time, it was now. He should just do it. Get it over with. Break her heart and hope that they could move on. Trying to find the bright side to it, he told himself that the sooner he ended things with Angelina, the sooner he could begin pursuing Hermione. However, that only left him with even sweatier palms. Standing up from the table, he looked between George and Angelina with the full intent to cross the room and ask his girlfriend to speak in private. But instead,

 “Alright, Freddie!” he announced loudly, catching George off guard. His twin looked up from the conversation he’d been having with Ginny and looked at him curiously. “I’ll see you in the common room. I have a few things I need to take care of first.”

 Before his brother had any time to question what he was doing, Fred flew from the Great Hall and past Angelina, avoiding looking in her direction as he turned the corner and headed towards an unknown direction. He had only gone a little way down the corridor when a voice called after him.

 “George! Wait up!”

 Fred stopped and turned to see Angelina running after him. What could Angelina possibly want with George, Fred thought for a moment as he watched the pretty witch approach him, her long braids bouncing off her shoulders. She looked nervous when she finally reached him. Her hands twisted together, and her eyes couldn’t quite meet his.

 “That’s me, George. What’s up?” Fred asked, wanting to kick himself. Coward. He was a coward.

 “Can I…can I talk to you for a second about…Fred?”

 “What about Fred?” Fred asked, feeling incredibly stuck in the lie he’d created.

 “Um, you know how I was at quidditch camp this summer?” asked Angelina, looking around them and grabbing Fred’s arm, pulling them over to an alcove away from prying ears and eyes. “And you know how Oliver was there?”

 “Yeah…” said Fred, feeling the blood drain from his body. His limbs had gone all cold and his fingers all numb and tingly.

 “Well, something might have happened.”

 “Something? What kind of something?”

 “Like I might have, I guess you could say I might have cheated?”

 “Might have or did? Those are two very different things Angelina,” said Fred, speaking now more as himself than as himself pretending to be George.

 “Okay, I did! I cheated!” admitted Angelina, bringing her hands up to cover her face in shame.

 “With Oliver Wood?!”

 “I know! I know! It just sort of…happened. Oli and I, we’re—”

 “Oh, so it’s Oli now?” asked Fred, feeling his temper bubble.

 “Look, I know you’re angry. I mean, Fred’s your brother after all.”

 Oh, right. She still thought he was George. Well this certainly threw a wrench in things. “Don’t you think this is something you should be telling him and not…me?” asked Fred, feeling slightly confused as he tried to wrap his head around processing the fact that his girlfriend had cheated on him with Oliver Wood, and that she had no idea she was speaking to him and not his brother.  

 “Yes, and I want to, but George. We’re friends too right? And you know him better than anyone. I was hoping you might know how to break this to him as easily as possible,” Angelina pleaded, looking imploringly into his eyes.

 Before Fred could even begin to figure out how to answer that, both his saving grace and downfall came all at once in the form of the real George Weasley.

 “You alright Freddie? What are you two up to then?” asked George, looking innocently between the two of them, tucked into the alcove.

 Angelina looked between George, the real George, and Fred who she now was beginning to realize was the one standing before her. Fred watched as the realization took over her and then how fear replaced confusion in her eyes before she muttered, “Well, fuck.”

 The conversation at that point had been a bit stale. Fred reckoned he might have gotten more answers out of her if George hadn’t come along and blown his act, but it was probably for the best. The more Fred thought about it, the less he really wanted to know. Still, some things stuck with him. What did Oliver Wood have that he didn’t?

 “I mean, it’s Wood!” cried Fred for the tenth time that night, laying face up, wrong way on his bed, head hanging off the end.

 “I know mate, I know,” responded George, continuing to unpack his and Fred’s trunk. A nicety Fred figured he was only giving considering his current predicament.

 “Maybe she’s bewitched or something,” suggested Lee kindly from across the room.

 “Yeah, maybe she’s under some kind of potion or spell. How else could a prat like that land Angelina?” added George.

 “I don’t know, Fred managed to land her just fine,” said Kenneth Towler, earning a round of glares from everyone in the room.

 “Shut it, Towler,” warned George, but he had gotten Fred’s attention now.

 Lifting his head till it was level with his body, Fred looked at the bookish boy with narrowed eyes. “What are you trying to say Kenneth?”

 Kenneth laughed, a short and breathy scoff, shaking his head from side to side. “Have you ever considered that maybe Wood’s just better than you?”

 The room was silent. Shocked at Towler’s words and more importantly in anticipation for how Fred would respond. Fred too was curious as to how he would react. Digging deep within himself he searched for anger, sadness, envy, but he found none of it. Instead, he laughed. A full body, side aching laugh that sent him toppling out of his bed and wiping at tears at the corner of his eyes. George and Lee joined in, followed shortly by Towler himself. When Fred finally calmed down enough to catch his breath he was on the floor, back leaning against the foot of his bed and one knee bent upwards to support his left arm.

 “Yeah, you might be right there Towler,” he sighed, feeling better than he had a few minutes previously.

 Despite his ability to laugh at the situation that night, Fred couldn’t help but mope the next day. Sure, he was planning on breaking up with Angelina as well, but it still hurts to get dumped and cheated on. Especially when the other man was your old quidditch captain. Not to mention, in a way he felt like it was slightly expected of him. In true Hogwarts fashion everyone knew the tale of him and Angelina and more importantly his mistaken identity. It had turned into a bit of a joke really and by dinner the next night people were saying things like “Just make sure it’s actually them and not their twin” when someone planned to meet with someone.

 It wasn’t particularly clever, Fred thought. Surely he and George could have come up with something much better if it had happened to someone else. But it hadn’t happened to someone else. It had happened to him, and he wasn’t about to throw fire to the flame by making a better joke that would surely stick around much longer. That just wouldn’t be fair to Angelina, who was already looking about as miserable as you could. It was clear she was embarrassed and guilty. Several points throughout the day Fred thought about putting her out of her misery and telling her not to feel bad. Maybe if he had been a better boyfriend she wouldn’t have been seduced away by another man. Maybe she could tell that his heart wasn’t truly in their relationship and therefore it was easier for her to be unfaithful. Still, he had been the one who’s heart wasn’t in it and he hadn’t been shoving his tongue down Hermione’s throat all summer. This was a new fact he had unwillingly learned from a few Gryffindor sixth year girls gossiping too loudly in the corridor before dinner.

 Once at dinner and knowing this fact, Fred longed for distraction. Glancing around he noticed that Hermione was noticeably absent. Of course she would be gone on the one day he needed the comfort of her ability to go on and on about whatever subject he asked her about.

 “Say, where’s Hermione?” Fred asked Ron and Harry as casually as he could.

 Harry shrugged but Ron answered, “Library maybe? That’s where she was last I saw her. You know how she gets.”

 “Maybe I should go get her? Make sure she doesn’t accidentally miss dinner,” Fred said, standing from the table.

 George gave him a knowing look. “Is that all?”

 “Dinner is the most important meal of the day Georgie,” said Fred, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

 “I thought that was breakfast,” said George back, smiling now.

 “Yeah, and I thought you weren’t a huge dickhead. I guess we’re both wrong.” And with that Fred spun on his heel and exited the Great Hall.

 Fred made it halfway to the library when he began to notice something very odd. The air had begun to thicken, a layer of fog soon surrounding him. Very shortly after his shoes started to make a wet splashing sound with every step. Looking down the corridor through the hazy fog, he realized that the floor was covered in water. A few steps further in and he realized that it was beginning to deepen. Something brushed his left hand and Fred jumped, spinning quickly, and pulling out his wand only to find a cattail. What was a cattail doing in a Hogwarts corridor?

 “Lumos,” he muttered, the tip of his wand glowing brilliantly and illuminating the corridor ahead of him. But he did not see a corridor. Or at least not the corridor he expected to see. No, instead the hall seemed to be transformed into what could only be described as a swamp with an expanse of still water covered by lily pads, cattails, and moss-covered logs. To top it all off, if he focused hard enough and held his breath, Fred could make out the croaks of toads in the distance.

 “What?” muttered Fred aloud in confusion.

 “Oh no, you weren’t supposed to see it until after dinner with everyone else,” whined a voice from behind him. Fred spun, his wand illuminating the face of Hermione Granger. She stood a few feet away, hands clasped behind her back as she frowned in his direction.

 “You did this?” he asked in shock.

 Hermione’s frown quickly morphed into a very proud smile and she nodded enthusiastically. “It’s a portable swamp. I’ve been working on it all summer. It was supposed to be yours and George’s Christmas present – you know, for the business.”

 “Why?” asked Fred, unable to really form full sentences from shock.

 “I heard about what happened with Angelina and I figured you might need some cheering up. I was hoping you’d get to see it for the first time when everyone else found it, but this is nice too. At least this way you won’t accidentally fall into it. A foot further and the water depth drops to about four feet,” she informed him casually, although the smug expression on her face told him she felt very proud of herself.

 Fred took a quick step away from the water and towards Hermione, not wanting to chance falling in. He stared at the witch before him, wide-eyed and speechless.

 “Do you like it?” Hermione asked, looking a bit nervous now as he had yet to make any real comment on her brilliant invention.

 Like it? He loved it! It was probably the nicest gift anyone had ever given him. How could he even begin to express how grateful he was? He was so happy he could kiss her. In fact…

 Fred leaned down, wrapping his arms tightly around Hermione and lifting her off of the ground as he claimed her mouth. The kiss was hard and overly enthusiastic at first, but in almost no time they were swept back into the memory of their first kiss all those months ago and they melted into each other like there had been no time between them. A single continuous kiss that went on for seasons. A kiss that Fred never wanted to end as he held Hermione tightly and snogged the living daylights out of her. Unfortunately, the kiss did have to end. A distant murmur of voices sounded from somewhere near by and they broke apart panting. Hermione’s lips were red and swollen and parted in a surprised expression when he carefully placed her down on the ground. They took a moment to just stare at each other, both surprised and delighted in what had just happened. But then the voices grew louder, and they knew they had to go. Fred held out his hand, raising his eyebrows expectantly. Hermione took it firmly, smiling bigger than he’d ever seen. Then they were off, running down the corridors and away from the scene of the crime. Through the halls of stone floors, ancient tapestries, and regal portraits they ran, laughing like school children. Which in a way, Fred supposed they still were.

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

@aoonai

@sjh-07-10

@is-it-madness

@i-d-e-g-a-f

[hecohansen31]

Maybe In The Next Lifetime

Reincarnated! Ivar The Boneless+Reincarnated! Reader (Modern AU)

(Previous Chapter)

(A/N): Hello there, lovelies!

I am sorry it took me so long but this is a small reward to @youbloodymadgenius​,who bought me a Ko-Fi, a bit of time ago and I just am so so grateful for this small gesture because it shows that you truly care about us, writers.

It truly means the absolute world to me and I don’t think that I’ll ever be able to properly express my gratitude through words, but I do hope that you’ll like this (you gave me the green light for everything that came up to my mind, so since i saw that you all liked the first part, here comes the second).

If you want more, please do let me know through a comment or a reblog (PLEASE DON’T FUCKING REBLOG WITHOUT SAYING ANYTHING... IT’S FUCKING STUPID).

Do leave some feedback if you want to: it makes us, writers, write faster and our hearts beat stronger.

Have a nice reading!

SUMMARY: Visions have accompanied your staying in Iceland, tainting your experience and making you meet the literal 'man of your dreams', but is this a crazed fever dream or is this the truth?

WORDS: 4,7 K

WARNINGS: Reincarnation Cycle, Menton of Violence and Blood, Inaccurate Portrayal of Iceland.

You changed your outfit for the umpteenth time, wondering if there was anything that would ever fit the theme of Midsomar, allowing you to show off your body, in a way that was flattering and proper.

Your friend, Hedda, had already chosen an outfit and was waiting outside of your shared bedroom at the small apartment you had rented for your staying in Iceland, singing out loud some Swedish song and refusing to give you any help with dressing up.

‘You need to find your inner “Midsomar” ‘ she had muttered after you had gotten out of your wardrobe in a bland floral dress ‘… but also you gotta impress that idiotic guy, you met, so… get out your best Maja’.

‘I don’t think that being a crazy witch in a cult will win me many points with any boy’ you had shot back, eventually completely ignoring her suggestions, trying on at first a few other dresses, and eventually settling up on an oversized white shirt in a pair of your best shorts.

The flower crown you had bought in a Chinese shop, already awaiting you in bed, and as you pushed it onto your head, the vision reappeared.

You had been having visions since the start of your staying in Iceland.

At first you had though they were simply strange dreams, created by your first holiday without your parents and far away from home.

They were different visions of different beautiful girls in clothes from different historical ages, but they all had one thing in common.

Your face.

And then when you had at first noticed Ivar, his own face had haunted your dreams.

As a king, as a slave, as a commander, in a haunt that reversed the roles.

Sometimes you’d be the prey and sometimes he’d be the hunter, and sometimes the opposite would happen.

In the mirror various figures shifted: a meek girl with a flower crown like yours, a well-dressed woman, her face hidden by a thick veil and the heavy crown on her head, again appearing in a more frail way on a woman with a spoiled smirk and expecting eyes.

But you knew that deep down they were all you.

And you were desperately trying to understand what this all truly meant.

You had eventually settled on browsing through some rather confusing pages about the interpretation of dreams, settling yourself up in the ‘reincarnation aisle’ discovering that many in forums thought that in dreams, they could see their past lives.

Or so they believed.

But in most cases, it was boring details that could be easily overlooked and most of the time they were interpreted by clairvoyants that wanted nothing more than to make their daily earn.

And you couldn’t blame them.

But your situation wasn’t a hoax.

Because there was so much confusion in your heart and mind.

And you knew it was a downright wrong thing to follow Ivar around, just because he was the literal ‘man of your dreams’.

And you knew that you would have probably ended up sounding as a crazed hysterical woman, had you confessed him that you had been dreaming about him for your entire staying in Iceland, seeing him in various outfits.

But one thing never changed also for him.

He had loved you and he had lost you.

Never the other way around.

Which you found lightly discriminatory and sexist…

… but Fate didn’t welcome any complaints, did He?

You wished you could talk about it with someone, but not only you didn’t know that well the few friends you had done around the hotel and in the city.

But also… who would have believed you?

And who wouldn’t have wanted to intern you in the nearest psych-ward, after hearing about your crazy dreams?

But this secret was burning you on the inside, completely ruining your holiday there, because you weren’t able, not only to sleep properly, but the knowledge of some previous past life was shaking your beliefs to the core.

And not in a good way.

You almost doubted the reality around you.

And more than one time you had found yourself pinching your arms in search of some signs that you hadn’t simply dreamt also this life.

“… are you fucking finished?” muttered loudly Hedda, startling and effectively reminding you that you were indeed in 2019, getting yourself ready for a Midsomar ‘date’ (because Ivar certainly hadn’t meant it that way, when you had basically invited yourself in it).

“Yeah yeah!” you shot back, slightly annoyed at her antics but eventually settling up on adjusting the flower crown on your head, as you grabbed your clutch, stuffing an extra charger for your phone and headphones in it.

And then appeared in the hallway of your room, for Hedda’s inspection, who told you to turn around, meanwhile she examined attentively your outfit, eventually holding up eight fingers, which was enough to make it pass.

‘… cute but have we forgotten the “sexy factor”?’ commented Hedda, as you were already grabbing a jeans jacket in case it ended up being colder.

You had agreed with Ivar on meeting each other for lunch and then move to a little place where a small folklore festival was to be held.

And had you had a bit of energy, you would join your friends for the night to a ‘Midsomar’ themed party, for which you weren’t too eager, but your friends had already seemed offended by the fact that you wouldn’t have passed the day with them, partying and drinking.

But you wanted the true Icelandic experience.

That was why you had moved there.

And honestly partying and drinking could be done everywhere.

Instead what Ivar had told you that he had planned that day was much more typical of the place and not something that you’d have found everywhere.

And having more time to spend with the ‘man of your dreams’ was definitely a bonus.

Hedda, who, although seemed extremely superficial, had assumed an extremely motherly and protective role over you, had wanted to accompany you, although she had used the excuse that:

‘Booze doesn’t affect me that much, anymore’ she had then winked your way ‘… and didn’t you say that Ivar has a cute brother?’.

You had barely seen Ivar’s brother, but you had felt like you had to give something to Hedda for ‘sacrificing’ herself for you.

Meanwhile you were getting out of your small apartment, making sure to lock after yourself, since Hedda always forgot, you received a message from Ivar, letting you know that they had just arrived to his uncle’s barn, sending you his location and reassuring you to take your time, since they had arrived early to help with the preparations.

You had thanked him, meanwhile you were thoroughly panicking because you didn’t want to arrive late, but to dissuade the uncomfortableness of the entire situation, you asked him ‘whether his brother was hot or not’.

Which you realized a minute after locking the door didn’t sound quite alright.

Shit.

You hoped that at least in one of the previous lives you hadn’t been this awkward.

‘.. for a friend’ you added, hoping he didn’t think you wanted to flirt with his brother.

Because you didn’t want to, for sure.

Although Destiny had indeed pushed you closer, you couldn’t deny that you had found yourself comfortable with Ivar in a way that hadn’t happened in so much with the few guys you had tried out a date with.

And it truly made you feel like this was real.

Like that was your reality.

He was clearly much shier than you were used to, but this didn’t mean that he hadn’t a sarcastically cocky side that had brought you to tears with laughter and judgement.

And it made you feel comfortable and at ease.

As if only with him you could be the true you.

And not the long line of previous reincarnations you had been.

‘… my brother does consider himself hot’ he sent you ‘… hot if you like brainless dudes who will do nothing but eat and drink’.

‘That’s Hedda’s perfect type’ you sent back, careful to avoid breaking your neck on the stairs, Hedda thankfully coming to your side to guide you meanwhile you messaged.

“I do hope that he is worth it” commented your friend, trying to sneak a small look at your conversation “… because those shoes certainly aren’t made for texting and walking”.

“His brother is hot” you were simply able to reply in the general confusion.

“Did you ask him?” shot back Hedda, facepalming as she completely stopped you from slamming your face on an unseen step “… you seriously… you better hope that that guy is in for it…”.

“Don’t make me feel worse than I am already feeling!” you protested loudly “… he is hotter than his hot brother, so do pray for me instead”.

“… you’ll need a miracle” she protested, but did make you arrive at the end of the stairs safe and sound, and then took your phone, throwing it in her bigger bag, as you complained loudly “… and no you are driving, so no phone, neither for the hot guy”.

“Always the responsible ones…” you muttered, knowing that it wasn’t the truth in the slightest “… just let me tell him that we’ll reach them in a quarter hour”.

Hedda simply sent you an annoyed look, before relenting as she got in the car you had rented for the occasion.

“… I wouldn’t have pegged you as one of those who is constantly texting her boyfriend” she muttered, lowering the car windows and you quickly typed in your message, waiting a few second for a simple ‘ok’ from Ivar.

Were you panicking?

A bit.

But you’d be fine.

Or he’d realize that you were seriously a stalker had you talked with him anymore.

And then Hedda reminded you of her as she sounded the car horn, effectively startling you away from your anxious brain.

And after all, the faster you got the car started, the faster you’d see him again.

You tried to convince yourself that wasn’t a comp6letely creepy thought.

---

You had been able not to lose yourselves on the trip to Ivar’s uncle’s barn, which had been a great way to certainly hype you up.

Hedda’s awful choice in music had done the rest.

But now you honestly didn’t want to get out of the car.

“Please don’t make me spray you with water” commented Hedda between her teeth, as she adjusted her blush and her own flower crown and you nervously curled a strand of hair between your fingers.

“… just give a minute”.

And she did, moving to lightly check some messages on her own phone, meanwhile you eased up in the place where you had parked, which was supposed to be a few minutes away from Ivar’s uncle’s barn.

In the middle of basically nowhere.

Hedda had joked about the fact that you had seriously ended up in ‘Midsomar’ and would be soon sacrificed, much to your already panicking soul, as you tried to search in yourself some willingness to meet again Ivar.

It wasn’t the simple nervousness of finally seeing the guy you had a crush on.

It was a multilayered feeling of fear and anxiety that had gone on for many years, as your lives were threaded together and separated by Fate.

And you didn’t know how to calm yourself.

In the end Hedda did spray a bit of water on your face, bringing you back from your historical thought, as you finally realized that you couldn’t let past history influence your present.

Although you didn’t know how to do that.

“Is everything alright?” asked Hedda as you moved away from the parking lot towards the small house, walking slow so that you could arrive there comfortably “… are you sure that this guy isn’t a psycho?”.

‘I am actually the psycho, with all these dreams of a past that maybe never existed between us’ you wanted to say, but simply shook your head, yawning lightly, because you had been up till late last night for your last turn at the hotel.

And you tried to keep your mind on the hotel’s turns that you’d have to restart tomorrow, to keep your mind in the present you were living.

Which worked well…

… till you arrived to the house and you found Ivar already out, helping up with setting in place what looked like a small gazebo, to protect you from the sun, meanwhile another boy set up a small plastic table under it.

And you wanted to turn and run away.

What had you been thinking when you had basically invited yourself to what looked like a reserved family ceremony?

Did you seriously think it was a good idea?

But before you could make a complete U-turn with your body, you heard your name being called out by a slight Nordic accent and as you turned around, your reality had changed inevitably.

No matter how much you tried to bring back your annoying turns at the hotel.

“… Ivar” the words left your mouth, although it felt like it had just been forced open, no matter how much you didn’t want to say those words.

His eyes smiled gently at you, as he walked to you, his clothes weren’t modern anymore, but they were an hard armor of leather, constricting him in a way that pushed his whole body to appear bigger than he was.

Relief flooded in you, as you faced him again, the knowledge of him having come back to you completely making you emotional, although you stopped yourself to wait for him to come to you again.

Your vision was disrupted by Hedda’s nails digging themselves in your upper arm, and when you batted your eyelashes, the entire set up you had imagined was gone.

Although Ivar was very much in front of you.

And looked like he had asked you something.

“I am sorry, I didn’t…” Gosh… he must have thought you were a weirdo for sure.

“… I just said that I am glad that you are finally here” his words were truly genuine as a softer smile appeared on his face “… and that you found us so easily”.

“I am a wonderful GPS” commented Hedda, noticing that you were having quite the trouble replying and more generally at talking “… I am Hedda, by the way”.

Ivar looked wary of Hedda but didn’t say anything, and his brother seemed quite taken by her appearance and he pushed himself up from the place where he had sat down, presenting himself to her.

And from the gleaming bits in Hedda’s eyes, you knew that he was hot enough.

And you were soon left with Ivar.

Gosh, could you embarrass yourself more.

Probably… yes.

You almost wanted to plead Hedda with your eyes to stay with you, but at the same time you completely understood she wasn’t your babysitter in any way.

“… so that is why you asked me if my brother was hot” simply commented Ivar, and although you blushed profusely at that knowledge, you felt like he had just shattered the wall of awkwardness between you.

“Hedda needs to have her own fun” you muttered “… mostly because she is a bitch whenever she doesn’t get enough attention”.

Ivar laughed loudly, and when you had both calmed down, you moved to ask if you could do something to help him.

And he redirected you around the gazebo to set it up, as he revealed to you that his uncle would be away for the day.

He was extremely blushy the whole time he said it, and you were a properly matching tomato.

‘… he said that he is too old to for these things” he commented softly ‘… he went fishing and will be back by nigh-time’.

‘Still it was very generous of him to offer us his place to stay’ you tried to make your words appear gentle and kind, although you couldn’t deny that you again felt a bit embarrassed by the whole situation.

Two guys and two girls with a small private barn all to themselves.

Hedda would have called you a stupid not to think that this was an entire trick to get you to stay closer to Ivar.

But Ivar’s words seemed honest in what he had said.

And yet it didn’t lessen your embarrassment.

And neither your knowledge that this had happened before.

A picture perfect in your mind of a ’70-fashioned yourself, sleeping with your head against Ivar’s, meanwhile a lazy fire crackled beside you, light giggle and breathy moans from the other couple with you, who had been much more courageous than you two.

Because although you had been on the road for quite some time, you hadn’t been able to do much more than simply stand closer.

“… he hasn’t been the same since his wife died” commented Ivar, his voice lowering itself slightly and bringing you back to the reality.

Not the peaceful and nightly one you had seen in your mind.

You should have taken some medicine for these hallucinations.

And got a whole check-up once you were home.

Although you weren’t sure you wanted them to disappear.

The knowledge that you had been able to score a guy like Ivar in past lives certainly stroked your ego.

“I am sorry to hear that” you replied softly, another memory in your mind, an angry Ivar, nothing peaceful in the way he threw things all around the room and screamed, but then after all the air in his lungs had disappeared he had searched you, shielding himself in your chest, meanwhile he let out all the emotions he had been denying to feel.

“… thank you” his words were honest now as they had been there “… but on better topics, the place we are going after should be good, my brother has never played there so that is a sign of true quality”.

You laughed softly at his comment, meanwhile he kept a straight face but eventually cracked up a small smirk.

“Please don’t tell me it is this brother” you muttered, pointing to Hvitserk, who had been trying to show Hedda a magic trick, involving his abs, thing that had made Hedda very much interested.

(In the abs)

(Not the magic trick. That was pathetic).

“… she’ll make him ask to play her a song, record him and play it till she gets bored with it, and I already think her taste in music his problematic”.

Ivar laughed at your sassy comment, as you managed to finally settle up the gazebo, sitting in the grass to stare at your marvelous work.

“… no not this one” he commented, shooting you a conspiratorial look that made you laugh loudly “… another of my many brothers… Sigurd, the one that I can’t stand”.

“I thought you couldn’t stand all of them”.

But the name Sigurd brought something back to you.

Something dreadful that your subconscious tried to keep locked away and again you pinched yourself to avoid deepening up.

You had seen yourself dying in horrendous way each night.

Once you had been shot, another time an overdose had taken you and the most horrendous had been when a sword had pierced your back.

You had woken up with the feeling of it, screaming loudly as you groped your chest sure to find iron and blood in it.

But it had been just a nightmare.

And yet each time you died you had this knowledge that this had happened.

That it had been painful.

And that it hadn’t been fair.

And what was linked to the name ‘Sigurd’ seemed much worse than that.

Ivar felt the shift in you and you were grateful when he suggested he went inside and started to bring a few starters and drinks outside, since you had to admit that you were quite famished.

And so was his brother.

Hounding him almost like a dog, as you laughed softly at the image.

Having seen it thousands of times happening.

And yet it still hanged in your mind as if it was new.

Hedda took this moment to come to you, muttering about how dreamily Ivar’s brother, Hvitserk, was.

‘… and Ivar does seem to be quite taken by you…’ she commented, shooting you a knowing look ‘… and you seemed a bit taken by the gazebo, I’ll admit it’.

You pushed her away with your shoulder, although you couldn’t deny that.

And you were glad in the following moments to be able to simply think about food.

You thanked profusely Ivar when you realized that the meals he had gotten ready were some Icelandic ones that you hadn’t tried yet, mixed with some other typical dishes, and you were honestly impressed.

‘Oh, don’t worry, Hvitserk over here is the one who cooked everything’ he commented, shooting a quick look at his brother, meanwhile Hedda let out a breathy ‘oh seriously?’.

And you and Ivar laughed of those two idiots.

Again, that natural complicity sparkling up between you, as you talked with each other.

It just felt so comfortable and natural that you couldn’t help but confess him your ‘darkest’ and ‘deepest’ secrets, as he did the same of you, both laid out in the sun, after lunch, staring up at the it, barely shielding yourself from it with your hands.

You joked and you laughed.

And it almost felt like you hadn’t lost anything in your previous life.

As if nothing existed except you and him, in that moment.

But your soul was growing restless.

Almost as if it expected something bad to happen.

Because history had a tendency to repeat itself.

And your soul knew it all too well.

So, you were secretly happy when you moved into a crowd for the musical festival, glad to be able to move yourself among many people, the music completely blaring your mind in a calm state that brought you to definitely enjoy the moment.

And so, seemed Hedda.

You had also had special places, because of Ivar’s disability, standing in the front, meanwhile various bands of various musical genres moved onto stage, alternating themselves, between applauses and ‘boo’s, making you definitely feel like this was an unlike ‘Midsomar’.

But soon it got a bit too much for you and Ivar, the man almost reading your mind (which scared you, because your mind wasn’t a nice place in that moment) and you both suggested going for a round of cold drinks.

Hedda and Hvitserk carrying their orders on you, taking great advantage as you muttered softly in protest, Ivar matching your harsh glare, but you both laughed it off, moving to the small bar set up there, the crowd making it again a wonderful occasion to make small talk with Ivar.

But you couldn’t deny that every talk with him wasn’t simply ‘small talk’.

Although you knew that Hvitserk and Hedda were waiting for you to come back, you still decided to set yourself up in the deserted tables next to the small bar, since everyone was dancing in the crowd, but you were able to still enjoy the music.

Even better with nobody sweating against you.

The lady that brought you your drinks smirked softly at you and said something in Icelandic that you couldn’t quite catch but simply smirked at her, meanwhile Ivar blushed bright red.

‘What did she say?’ you asked, twirling your orange juice in its glass, meanwhile Ivar looked like he might choke on his own beer.

‘… she muttered something about… us being a cute couple’.

This time you basically spluttered the orange juice in his face.

Blushing even harder because of that.

‘… oh’ you simply were able to retort.

‘Oh, indeed’ he repeated, with some kind of bitter embarrassment to it.

And suddenly you were feeling deeply uncomfortable.

Unsure of whether you had said the right thing or not.

And the painful knowledge of your past hanging on you.

An awkward silence fell onto you heavily and you didn’t know what to say and you didn’t want to go back, because Hedda wouldn’t be much helpful since she had set her sights on Hvitserk and she’d have his number for sure, by the end of the night…

… if not something else.

In the end, Hvitserk and Hedda came looking up for you, joining you to drink, something that certainly made you feel definitely better, a bit less awkward, as you leaned on Hedda, almost shying away to her side.

And Ivar did the same with Hvitserk.

In the end you managed to eventually talk with Hvitserk, but awkwardness had again created a wall between you, two…

… a wall that had to be shredded, because Hedda had come up with a dangerous idea.

‘Why don’t you and Ivar spend the night together?’ she suggested, and again you were a tomato ‘… I mean… you could stay over there, since Hvitserk and I were thinking of partying a bit more and I know that you don’t like it. And I feel bad in making you stay alone…’

Other than the fact that she had basically invited yourself in her house, you didn’t think that it was a good idea, and told her so, insisting that Ivar’s uncle would be soon back.

‘… then you can stay for a bit and then go back’ it was obvious that both she and Hvitserk were playing matchmakers.

And you and Ivar didn’t feel like it, in the slightest.

You had already Fate pushing you up close.

That was enough.

You insisted with Hedda that you didn’t want to be of any bother to Ivar, and she insisted back that it wasn’t good to leave you coming back alone.

And although Ivar didn’t seem the type to be guilt-tripped into doing anything, he eventually agreed, although he told you that he’d have to see with his uncle if you could stay over for the night.

‘… oh no no, don’t worry!’ you tried to protest, already feeling like a useless baggage ‘… I’ll just go back before it is too late, I mean… it is still pretty sunny’.

But your mutter had gone unnoticed and after another round in the crowd, the concert had stopped, setting up a more commercial DJ sets, as you went back with Hvitserk’s car, the one to which you were gone to the concert, an hour away from the barn.

Back at the barn, the situation with Ivar hadn’t become better and another flashback had developed in your mind.

An annoying ride of carriage, because you knew that somehow Ivar was angry with you and you should have been angry with him, but at the same time you were damnably worried for him.

And you had reached out for him.

Finding the same gesture replied in the future.

And you were glad you had chosen to leave Ivar take the front seat, meanwhile you had simply reached out for Hedda’s hands, who sent you a look, as if to check whether you had inhaled some passive ‘smoke’ from the crowd of the festival.

You wished.

And when you arrived to the place you and Ivar basically were barely able to get out of the car, before Hedda and Hvitserk sprinted off, effectively leaving you stranded.

“Shit” muttered Ivar under his breath and you couldn’t have expressed better your thoughts, as you faced him, and all his previous reincarnations appeared in front of you.

A Viking warrior, a merchant, a lord.

And then you, bloodied and lost.

You shifted your head away from him, focusing it on your dirtied converse shoes.

“… if you want, we can go inside” he proposed eventually his tone settling up on a defeated tone “… nothing too much to see, but we might have beer…”.

“… have to drive” you reminded him.

“… and whatever you might want to drink with no alcohol” he commented, something almost comical in his words “… which is a sad choice, I’ll admit”.

“I am used to it” you shot back with a slight smirk “… does Hedda seem the type to be trusted behind a car wheel?”.

“You do make an excellent point”.

And then you dived inside, the small barn, being quite welcoming and quite comforting, definitely something that made you remember of home, as you noticed the small figurines draping and decorating elegantly the main hall.

Ivar saw that they had caught your eyes.

And not solely because they were beautiful.

But you had seen them in your dreams.

And then you felt like you had a heavy stone on your lungs, and you had to free yourself from it.

“Ivar, I have a thing to tell you”.

---

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Everything Taglist:

@maggiescarborough​​

Ivar Taglist:

@youbloodymadgenius​​​, @alexhandersenx​​​, @lonewolf471​​​, @flowers-in-your-hayr​​​, @a-mess-of-fandoms​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ (I also did yours, and it’ll be out soon too!) @peaceisadirtyword​

[obeymemc-marcie]

A drabble for my OC Marcie and her otaku 💜 SFW, there's no smut, just these two dorks being cute

Levi groaned for the umpteenth time that day before clicking his tongue behind his teeth and stood from his chair. He strode over to the aquarium in his room and brought his hand up to the glass, watching Henry swim about.

"I'm going to go see her." Levi told himself, yet his feet remained, unmoving. "I will." This fish swam over and stopped to look at the demon. "It's not my fault Henry! They cornered me! What was I supposed to do?"

The fish just looked at him. "She knows how I feel about her, why does everybody else need to know? Why does anyone need to know?" 

His mark had been glowing since this afternoon. He'd felt her range of emotions and if anything, it confused him. He'd never thought that someone could feel so many emotions just because of him.

But Marcie wasn't just someone. Their mating might have been unconventional, but she'd accepted him regardless. She even still accepted him after his heat was over.

Making up his mind, Levi turned on his heel and made for his door, opened it, and froze. There was a bright colored bag hanging from the handle of his door.

He eyed it suspiciously until he caught a whiff of her. This was from her! Levi pulled the bag off his handle and retreated back into his room, closing the door behind him and unwrapped his present.

Just like she'd promised, Marcie had found and brought back the limited edition Ruri-chan Halloween maid design that's only available this week that they'd talked about earlier that day.

Levi couldn't believe that she'd managed to find one AND brought it back for him even after he'd hurt her. He placed the figurine on his shelf, admiring the newest piece to his collection before turning his eyes back to the bag.

He wondered if there was anything else in the bag, but then wondered if that made him any better than Mammon to expect her to have given him more than what he had asked for. Taking out the decorative paper, he frowned seeing the small stack of papers.

They were bound together by string, the cover of the booklet making him drop both the gift and the bag in surprise. The cover looking back at him from the floor, his face flushing.

IOU's: A Coupon Book for You and Your New Mate

by Marcie, for her Henry

She was trying to kill him. Could someone die from bloodrush to their head? Levi could feel himself getting woozy and sat down on the floor.

He reached out cautiously to pick up the booklet, cradling it in his hands as if it were to fall apart if he wasn't careful. He turned the first page to read the inscription she'd written to him. For him.

My love, I know how you feel about me as you know how I feel about you. We don't need to prove this to anyone else. I've made this for you with the hope that you allow me to fulfil at least some of these tasks for you. -Marcelline

PS: don't worry, absolutely no h-route in here

He wasn't going to cry. Leviathan was most certainly not going to cry as he read over her words, her beautiful cursive.

Levi opened to see the first coupon.

'For when you want to h°old h°ands'

He got up to run back to the aquarium, showing Henry what she'd made for him. Levi read her words out loud, his heart hammering in his chest. He continued flipping through the pages, a sappy smile on his face and read them out to Henry.

'For when you need a non-judgemental shoulder to cry on on.

'For when you have a bad dream or can't sleep.'

'For when you want to take a nap (in general).'

'For when you want to take a nap (on my lap).'

'For when you want to take a nap (in my room).'

'For when you want to take a nap (in your room).'

'For when you don't want to mourn the loss of a character alone.'

'For when you want a hug (30 seconds).'

'For when you want a hug (2 minutes).'

'For when you want a hug (5 minutes).'

'For when you want a hug (10 minutes).'

'For when you want a hug (for however long you want).'

'For when you want to cuddle (5 minutes).'

'For when you want to cuddle (15 minutes).'

'For when you want to cuddle (30 minutes)'

'For when you want to cuddle (a full hour!)'

'For when you want to cuddle (however long you'd like).'

Levi turned the next page, wiping a stray tear from his eye, Henry looking at the book over his shoulder.

'You'll notice the next few pages are blank. Those are for you to write out, wildcards, blanks. I'll do whatever and anything you write out.'

Levi moved to his desk and flipped to the first blank page and wrote his own coupon. Slipping the paper into his pocket, Levi pulled out the first season of TSL, the intention to start the show from the beginning more that she'd caught up on the books, and left his room, closing the door behind him.

Marcie was reclining in her bath, her blue hair tied up in a messy bun, her glasses on the rim of the bath. She closed her eyes and sank down further into the water, inhaling the scent of the golden hellfire newt bathbomb she'd bought earlier that day.

The product had turned the water gold and simmered with tiny flecks of glitter that speckled her skin.

She wondered if Levi had seen her gift yet. The timid knock on her door broke her out of her reverie.

"Come in!" She called out. The door opened and she called out again. "I'm in the bath, is everything alright?"

He squawked. "Marcie!" His voice a mix between a harsh whisper and a whine. "You're not supposed to invite people in when you're, you know!" Levi stayed in her room, facing away from her bathroom and brought up a hand to cover his red face.

"I know this might sound a little cocky, but I had a feeling it was you coming to see me," her tone light, barely concealing her amusement.

"That's no excuse! What if someone else saw you? I'm supposed to, to be the only one, the only one who sees you, like that." His envy peeking through as he shifted his weight from foot to foot. How was he supposed to give her the coupon if she, if, if she was, indecent!

And then he caught the smell wafting from her bathroom door.

"Hey uh, Marce? That" he swallowed, "that wouldn't happen to be uh, golden hellfire newt, right?" How he hoped he'd was wrong.

She blinked in surprise, "actually, yeah, it is."

Levi groaned.

"Asmo said it was safe for humans and I liked the smell. Is it bad? Do you not like it?"

"Quite the contrary, my love."

She gulped. She knew that voice. Her blue eyes popped open and stared at her bathroom door, waiting. Marcie licked her lips in anticipation. A black hand wrapped around the door and it opened slowly.

"That happens to be a rather potent aphrodisiac that affects all demons." He pulled out the slip of paper from his pocket and licked his lips, eyes roving over what he could see of her that rose above the water. "And I've come to cash in my first coupon." Levi locked his eyes on her, his pupils narrowed to slits, his tail flicking around behind him in anticipation.

He bent over to place the paper by her glasses and watched in amusement as she fumbled to read the slip, already undressing to join her in the tub.

'For when I need to apologize.'

[xhanisai]

Asexual ask anon and honestly I'm not sure why I asked that thing..... I'd like to read some thing about it tho

Lel have no worries~ Here’s a little drabble!

~(x)~

For the umpteenth time, Ladybug wrinkled her nose as she observed the rich view from the top of the eiffel tower- more like glared. She was so deep into her thoughts that she didn’t even acknowledge her partner’s presence when he dropped by, performing a new aerobatic trick that went unseen much to his dismay.

It took him three weeks to perfect that move...

“Don’t mind me. Just a lonely cat stalking by...” Chat Noir teased out loud, snapping the heroine out of her daze. His smirk grew as she fumbled with her words and hands before settling on an apologetic smile.

“Sorry about that, Chaton.” She took his outstretched hand and allowed the boy to lift her up to her feet till they were both standing side by side. 

“No big deal, I’ll just have to find another purrrfect meowment before showing you the cool trick I did. Maybe the next akuma attack?” Ladybug couldn’t help but slap his shoulder playfully as he waggled his eyebrows, trying her best to not giggle.

He so knew she was laughing internally anyways, feeding his already larger than life ego.

“Go on, I dare you, and then you better run afterwards because I will throttle you with that belt tail of yours.” She retorted back with jest.

“Meowch! How kinky~” 

His response didn’t receive the usual snort or groan. Much to the feline hero’s surprise, a deeper grimace was written on his partner’s face. 

“Ladybug? Is something wrong? Did I go too far-”

“Ah! No, no. It’s not you at all Chat.” 

Noir only raised a brow at her flustered response.

“You better not hit me with the ‘Oh no, it’s not you, it’s me!’ crap.” He gestured dramatically, pretending to swoon on the spot and proceeding to fan himself. That got Ladybug giggling this time and the lovesick boy inside of him pumped his fist up with joy.

“But it is! Really,” 

“Care to elaborate?”

“I don’t know...I don’t want to seem weird...”

“Well, you’d have to be weird enough to tolerate me for a start.”

“Chat Noir! I’m trying to be serious here!” Ladybug laughed again, leaning against his shoulder this time. 

The duo chuckled and joked back and forth a few more times before sitting down on one of the tower’s many beams.

“Okay, now we got that out of our system, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours?” His attempt at poking her forehead ended with a swat on his hand. “Hey- rude! Hmmph. What got you thinking so hard that you ended up missing my fabulous entry~?”

Silence showed its face in the atmosphere afresh but only for a moment. Ladybug fiddled with her fingers, exhaling, only to find her fidgeting hands grasped by a larger pair in a soothing grip. 

She felt the tension escape her shoulders as his thumb rubbed circles on her hands and his non-judging smile never left his lips.

“I...What do you think about...sex?” 

Comically, Chat Noir’s face flushed redder than a tomato at sonic speed and his faux ears and tail struck up like a scaredy cat. If he had fur, it would have bristled up too. His Lady almost laughed. Almost.

“Wha- Ah- ERM...WHAT!?” Sweat started to accumulate on his forehead and the boy couldn’t do anything but turn his face to the side with an awkward laugh, ripping one of his hands away from hers to itch his nose nervously.

“Keep your fur on, Chat. It’s just a simple question.” Ladybug rolled her eyes fondly, squashing down a giggle at his protesting squacks. 

“My Lady! Stop teasing me...” His pout prompted her to finally laugh out loud, hand now covering his embarassed face. “And...regarding your...question?” Her laugh died down.

Ladybug cleared her throat and nodded, beckoning the boy to carry on along with a supportive squeeze on his hand.

“I won’t lie- I am a typical teen under the mask. I...ehem...I do find the idea appealing and...would like to try it one day with someone I love and cherish,” Ladybug gulped at his soft answer, her eyes able to glimpse the hidden words behind his eyes.

‘With you...’

She peered down with a grimace, tightening her hold on his hand. The way she darkened didn’t go unnoticed to the boy clad in black.

“I-I-Is that so? You don’t find it...strange?” Her voice wavered towards the end of the sentence that Chat couldn’t help but lay a supportive hand on her shoulder.

“My Lady, what do you think about it?” He felt the way her muscles tensed under his hold and the way her eyes darted around anywhere but at him.

“Well, just like you, I’m curious too.”

The silence that followed afterwards bordered on tense and awkward before the taller of the two decided to break it.

“The truth, please. I’m your partner, you can trust me with anything. Unless you pour in milk before the cereal, I won’t judge you for anything- cat’s honour,” The scoff he got from her warmed up the atmosphere once more, much to their delight.

With another deep sigh, Ladybug proceeded.

“Ever since...from the beginning...I’ve never really found it appealing? To me, it’s just...baby-making!” Her last word caused Chat to bark out laughing, nodding his head to her in agreement.

“Oh my God you’re absolutely right! Keep going!” He received a few more slaps on the shoulder from Ladybug till the mock scowl was wiped off her face.

“As I was saying, before somebody rudely laughed-” Another playful slap. “It’s just nothing special to me. My friends would always talk about boobs, butts, chests, and so on but I just never cared? Also, the idea of other people’s genitals coming anywhere near me just grosses me out. What if they don’t clean up properly after leaving the bathroom? What if they have STDs?” 

It took everything for Chat to stifle down his laughter as he nodded along, finding himself agreeing with her moreso. 

“You’re absolutely right, sex is gross. Everything about it is gross, we’re all gross. But I find myself liking it despite all that,” Chat added as Ladybug pinched his nose. 

“Like the true alley cat you are,” She let go, smiling brighter than she has been for days when the dilemma struck her. “I don’t judge anyone for liking it. I’ve heard about how good it supposedly feels and that it’s the epitome of love itself...but I feel like I’d be judged for not being interested in it. That I’ll be seen as that one weird girl with no sex drive and squander any hopes I had for dating.” 

Ah, so that’s the problem.

Time to solve it~

With a loving gaze, Chat kissed the back of her hand sweetly, catching the swift blush that met his Lady’s cheeks before she turned her head away to avoid looking at him. 

“Say Bugaboo, how would you describe love?” This time, it was her turn for her face to flare up like his did a while ago, sneaking her hand away from his smiling lips and hugging her knees to herself.

“W-Why would you ask something like that?”

“Just answer the question, Little Bug~” 

“Ugh! Fine,” Slapping her cheeks lightly- Which Noir found utterly adorable- Ladybug faced him. “Love, to me, is warm, makes your heart race, makes you do the most stupidest things, risk everything and make your insides go to mush.” 

“Is that so?”

“Yeah. You disagree?”

“Nope, as a matter of fact, I agree. However, I personally find love quite freeing, like a fire set ablaze in my heart-”

“Pfft what are? A poet-”

“-LIKE, electricity running through my veins, like home...” The way his eyes glistened tenderly made Ladybug’s heart skip a beat or two, much to her dismay.

“O-oh. Okay. So what was the point of that?”

“The point is, love is subjective. Like art.” His answer started to make sense to her. “Some people would find lovemaking as the peak of love. But, others may find that simply watching the way the sun brings out the eyes of their lover’s as the peak instead. I won’t sugarcoat it, there will always be judgemental people out there in the world but as long as you don’t let it get to you, everything should be fine. I definitely don’t judge you.”

A beautiful smile took place on Ladybug’s lips and her eyes shimmered with happiness. The acceptance and sweet words did well to alleviate her early concerns.

“So you don’t think I have to have experience before making a decision about whether or not I like sex?” 

“I don’t have experience and I supposedly like it.” Chat winked. “It’s a matter of bumping uglies- I think you’re rather sane for staying away from that.” The duo dissolved into giggles. 

“You flatter me, pfft!” 

“Ooh and also! I have a few older friends in my civilian life who are experienced. They all told me that apparently, sex isn’t all that,” The cat boy let his thoughts drift back to Luka and his friends from the nearby Lycee. “It’s over romanticised, short and pretty awkward as hell. Some even regret rushing into it and I think one of them described it as ‘false advertising’.”

“Really? Wow...I never realised that I’m not alone as I thought...” 

“Duh? You can’t get rid of me even if you resort to murder.” Chat flopped on her lap like his namesakes, face now peering up at hers and his cheeky smile only broadened when Ladybug sighed in mock defeat, digging her fingers through his soft tendrils. 

“Plus, you gotta speak up more instead of moping in the corner. You can’t know for sure if you’re alone if you don’t tell anyone how you’re feeling.” This time, they both exchanged a true, soft smile. 

“Thank you, Chaton. You really do know how to make my day,” Ladybug dipped down to kiss his forehead, mouth quirking up into a smile as she felt him jolt before pulling away. 

“I-I-It’s just the truth...” Chat stammered, a lovesick smile draped on his face. “You’re valid and amazing and beautiful, just t-t-the way you are...don’t ever change for the sake of others,” 

“And same for you,”

~(x)~

I hope you enjoyed! I myself am not ace so I hope I’ve managed to write down the community’s feelings correctly. I have a couple of friends who are though and their reasonings behind it revolved around what I’ve written? Regardless, have a nice day!

[jjkpls]

Mean Yoongi 2 (m)

> genre : smut, light angst, fluff

> pairing : min yoongi x reader (f)

> words : 5.4k

> warnings : explicit sexual content, strong language

> For once, Min Yoongi is not that mean and tries to help you feel better after an umpteenth date fail. (sex in the genius lab basically)

> A/N : Feel free to listen to the inspiration for this :D I hope you enjoy, let me know your thoughts ❤

> previous

< next

“You're here?” Yoongi is standing up from his chair, face scrunched up in a scowl as he glares down at me.

I'm not sure what I'm supposed to answer to that.

It's been more than an hour since I've knocked on the door of his studio, entered and installed myself on the sofa, right behind him.

I was not sneaky about it too. He looked at me. He did. When I opened the door, we've glanced at each other. I mouthed something about wanting to hang out since he could probably not hear me with the earphones set on his head. Completely expressionless, he turned around in his chair and proceeded on working again, typing and clicking away on his computers, not minding me anymore.

I'm not sure what it meant. But it's not like I really cared at that point since I wasn't planning on leaving his studio and meeting stupid Taehyung and have a fucking painful time with this idiot.

So I've just remained there, keeping myself occupied on my phone. Eventually, he would finish what he's been doing and pay attention to me -at least, turn around and sneer my way or something. Maybe he wouldn't have been able to handle my presence, too obnoxious somewhere behind his back, and quit working to throw me out. I mean, anything.

But he did not. For more than an hour. And if the hardly raised dark eyebrows of his are anything to go by, he's completely forgotten that I was there.

“Uhm... but you've seen me?” I mumble, confused and slightly embarrassed.

“Why are you not with Taehyung?” I frown, diverting my attention back to the screen of my phone. There's still a little Chimmy asking if I want to “try again!” this level. I hear Yoongi sigh, gravely. He lets himself fall back in his chair, this time facing my lain form on the couch. One of his hand messes with his bleached-white hair. When it falls back down on his lap, he sighs again, asking the same question again this time pressing me with the stressed syllables of my name he's added.

I wonder how upset I must look for him to show so much patience. We haven't talked in quite a few weeks, mostly because of my schedule being suddenly overbooked by a sudden shit load of work being dropped in the office I work at. But from what I remember, he wouldn't have made the effort to ask twice the same question before.

“He's going to annoy me...” I peek at him from the corner of my eyes. He's leaned on his right side, the tip of his fingers pressing against his worn-out eyes. When he's done and the silence of the studio is striking him, he opens them up and stares back, in expective. “It's dumb...” Straightening up, he leans back, elbows setting on the armrests, fingers intertwining on his stomach. His piercing gaze is not leaving me longer than it takes for him to blink and I know I own his whole attention.

I feel kind of silly now. Taehyung would be a pain but Yoongi surely won't be much better. The plan was just to hang out with him, or next to him at least, not to actually have him show interest and concern for my life. Never failing to disappoint.

Laboriously, I get up, getting in the best disposition to tell my little lame tale about the whole Tinder debacle. I tell him, trying to avoid digressing on meaningless details that could earn me time, about this guy I've met. About how he came off weird by sending me a dick pic the day following our very first text exchange but how I gave him a pass for his “momentary lapse of judgement”. There're not many movements on Yoongi's part. His face has never been an opened book but I would expect him to show some reactions. Since he doesn't, I suppose he doesn't think it's that much of a big deal so I keep going, summarizing briefly the beginning of our first (and last) date and more precisely, I tell him about how he didn't look at all like his cousin's pictures he had used on his profile. I can feel fire burning my cheeks both from anger and embarrassment, as I start, mindlessly, counting on my fingers the other lies and other uncharming quirks of this guy as I name them out loud.

I've lost myself in a passionate tornado of complaints, now lashing on how greasy his hands were (and not from being sweaty, actually greasy with a something that I could not pinpoint but definitely fucking gross) when Yoongi starts mumbling something. I shut my mouth right up, all ears for the first comment he's about to give me.

“Okay. Why are you here? Isn't it Taehyung's job to list-”

“Min Yoongi.” I don't mean to but I whine. Because all the pent up frustration from this terrible day has been awoken by my telling and I don't feel like dealing with Mean Yoongi right now. He looks at me, eyes dark but oddly soft. I note how the light blond hair makes wonder for his naturally sharp glare. Smacking his lips, sighing again, Yoongi tilts his head to the side. “Actually, Tae told me not to go meet him because of the whole dick pic thingy but I didn't listen. We fought a bit about that. Now he's going to be oh-so-happy to have this whole shit to rub in my face,” Taking a stupid voice and twisting my face in an even stupider expression, I mimic, “'I told you so, dumbass! You should listen to-'”

“Tae's your friend. He's not gonna be happy that you had a miserable date.” It's my turn to sigh. Deep and hard, for it to resonates in the whole studio and Yoongi to hear it well. He is so disagreeable. He doesn't know anything about the proper friend etiquette. Yet he's right. And he's talking with me instead of throwing me out, and cursing at me for making him waste his time which I am sure, he strongly feels the need to.

“It's not the first time, right?”

“What is?”

“Tinder fail.”

“Oh.”

No, it's not. I've decided to stop counting when I realized that I was about to miss fingers to tally them on.

I can’t say that I’m starting to lose hope in my dating abilities because I’ve never really thought I was made for it. Which might be the reason why it all went down to shit. That’s what my mom would say. If I start with that attitude I shouldn’t feel struck by the result. In the end, there’s one common factor to all these equations.

That being said, why would falsely cute catfishes be so good at texting, I don’t get it? I meet them and they fucking suck balls, but at some point, they were nice and charming and normal. Well, most of them anyway if we put aside the one from today. Yes, it was in this very case a lapse of judgement on my part but the dick pic, not that I condone it or even liked it, intrigued me. It was a good one. Not his -also his cousin’s from my understanding, don’t ask me how he got that. But a nicely shot one, by clearly a professional, and I thought vaguely that maybe a guy that knew what he wanted, was so confident in his own attributes, might be a good option for my slow prude ass.

A mistake.

“Why are you so desperate to date?” Yoongi’s nose bridge scrunches up so tight, the round tip of his nose seems to try to meet the low frown of his dark eyebrows. I almost wish out loud for his stupid face to stay stuck in that position. He wouldn’t be any less irritating but at least, slightly cuter. And he hates cute.

“Desperate? I- Yoongi, do you know for how long I haven’t dated? I’m human, I get lonely!” I can’t help my voice to raise a few octaves. If I hold in more of my frustration, I’m sure I’ll end up doing something terrible and impossible to undo like crying, for example. “Don’t you?”

He shrugs. His expression has softened back into his regular blank one as he just contemplates in front of him. Not really me, not really the small coffee table or the carpet. I’m about to pry a word from him when his phone starts vibrating furiously on his desk. Turning hardly enough to check from over his shoulder, he looks then presses the screen turning it back to black.

Maybe I should leave now. I’m more upset than I thought myself to be. Which is so stupid. I couldn’t care less about that Bamboum guy or whatever his real name was. I still feel pretty stupid except more stupid than pretty and kind of helpless. Taehyung was going to be annoying as fuck if I had chosen to go seek him, but it was a mistake to even think Yoongi would, in any way, make me feel better. I should have clung to someone else like Jungkook or something.  “How’s your ass?” I can’t even attempt to hide the startle his low voice, erupting after such a long painfully silent moment, provokes me along with the mention of the incident. Because it has to be what he is referring to.

Yoongi, still sitting in his chair, knees spread wide like he is trying to prove he owns the whole place as if I don’t already know from the multiple apparitions of his stage name all over the walls and shelves, ponders me, awaiting patiently for an answer. He has the faint shadow of a growing smirk painting his pink lips. He looks at me like he knows he’ll get an answer. He’s decided he’ll have one.  Squeezing my fists tight to try and conceal the tension in my voice, I start, “Why are you mentioning this now?”

“I haven’t seen you since. Just inquiring.”

His voice is strained by a faint amusement. It’s lighthearted, I’m pretty sure. I, therefore, decide to just ignore it. Because what the hell does he want me to say anyway? That it felt alright on the way home but the sting was almost unbearable when I woke the next day and that I couldn’t even spend a minute without being reminded of his ministrations for the following three days as any movement, any brush of material against my skin, awoke the burn.

Yeah, sure.

Yoongi chuckles. He sees me looking down at my hands, turning mortified and embarrassed, and he decides it’s enough teasing. He grabs his phone, checking the time quickly.

“Have you eaten yet?”

“Yes, we ate at a restaurant.” I grumble, eyes still not raised enough to have to acknowledge his upsetting face.

“You ate with the guy? What's wrong with you?”

And here I realize why, maybe, I'm blessed by his usual lack of responses. Maybe I should try and actually cry in front of the guy, I know him to have something of a soft heart hidden somewhere. The one that winks when he expects it the less, when he lets his guard down. I could try and trigger it. Maybe he'll be less of an ass then.

“I'm not- what was I supposed to do? I'm not a bitch.”

“It's not about you being a bitch, it's about raising your standards a bit, damn...”

“D'you remember me explaining you, like 5 seconds ago, why I didn't want to see Tae right now?” He's rendered speechless. I don't know if it's from my doing or his own but he just stays there, exchanging a knowing look with me. I think he's giving in. He realizes that maybe he's being too much of an ass for what I can take.

Yoongi then swirls around on his chair. I start gathering my few belongings, assuming I'm being dismissed since he's starting to type away on his computer again but he startles me when he grabs the little stool, hidden under his desk, to drag it on the floor and set it next to his own chair. His other arm reaches out to unplug his headphones, while he throws out in the air, ���Wanna listen what I've been working on?”

I gasp aloud, voice squealing a bit, as my heart is seized by a shock wave of excitement. YES, I DO. Anything else, any concern or growing grudges just annihilate all together when I jump on the little stool, unable to contain my grin and watching with wide eager eyes the screen displaying a music editing software I’ve seen him used multiple time before.

His lips are stretched by a tiny smile when he clicks a few times until the first notes drop. While I’m appreciating, mouth agape, all attention on the sample, Min Yoongi lays back in his chair, the back of his head leaning impossibly far to stare at the ceiling, his long milky neck exposed. It lasts about 30 seconds but those are the wildest seconds I’ve ever experienced. The sample is a bop. It’s that mix between heavy languish bass and a light melody alike an oriental traditional instrument, added to intricacies faint, subtle that my ignorant and so impressionable dumb brain can’t but feel without really deciphering. It’s different from what the band makes. More mature and hefty in a way. Something Agust D would manage well but then again, it has a delicacy to it that doesn’t really fit to his dark, raw character.

And here again I’m astonished by the extent of his talent as an artist, being able to surprise and reinvent himself while still producing something -and I know it’s just a snippet of a song that is far from actually existing yet but damn it is- that phenomenal. 30 seconds is very short of a time to convince someone your song will be a hit. But it’s enough there to fucking blow me away. I’d ask him to save this on an hour loop for me to take home if only he were not looking at me with this expression.

That’s so Yoongi. His mouth shut won’t say a thing but his eyes are very talkative except I’m missing a lot of words. He’s put his hat on, swiping his hair backwards, exposing his dark set of straight eyebrows so that his eyes are back to being sharp and dark, soft in the fineness of their upper line’s course but raw and assertive in expression.

“Yoongi, it’s-“ There’s a sudden drilling sound cutting me off and making me jump on my stool. It’s his phone again. Sliding on his chair to get closer, he reaches over me to check it quickly and shut it off under my curious eyes. When he leans back, leaving a breeze of a too common yet nice male cologne on his path, his attention doesn’t waver from my face as if trying to make it out into something or figure something out of it.

“You were saying?” He mutters, his knee lightly bumping into my thigh. What was I saying? Is it happening again? Is his studio cursed or something? Maybe for someone who wouldn’t know him he’d look cold, almost mean from how uninterested his facial expression is looking. But to me, who’s had my fair share of Yoongi's not-so-wide spectrum of different attitudes, he’s being exceptionally present.

The way his whole attention is silently driven to me, how he actually asks me to speak, and the proximity -my legs pulled tight together so they don’t dare brush against his, squaring them- he doesn’t hint to wanting to pull away from.  It feels nice but awfully intimidating. I could spend a whole afternoon annoying the crap out of him, stuck to his backside like a piece of gum to a shoe, if he barely acknowledges me enough to make me feel like we're still making progress in this friendship, we’re getting somewhere. But this I'm not used to, and it feels like it's too much.

“I- I think it's incredible...” His fingers reach behind his head, scratching the hair there, while a locked-lips smile draws itself on his face.

“There's a lot of things left to do. It won't do like that...” He's the genius artist and producer. And I don't know shit about music. So no matter how bad I want to express my adoration for this sample, how bad I want him to not change anything except if it's to add his low, charismatic voice, I decide not to get into it. I've observed him from beginning to almost end of making and editing a piece, a few times, and it's not the first time a very early version seems like the one to me. He wouldn't really listen, though. And that's probably the main reason for him being such a good artist. He's confident, resolute, and incredibly talented.

“Are you still feeling lonely?” I feel better. Him sharing something as meaningful as his music with me sure cured my mood immensely. That being said, the feeling of unsatisfaction and the creeping hopelessness in regards to the future of my dating life, are just hovering in the back of my head, shadowing like a pre-thunder cloud.

It seems like I caught his bad habit of expressing only crumbles of the full extent of my thoughts and emotions. I shrug. Nod, fidget a bit. “What does that mean? What do you need?” The tip of his forefinger is teasing the pink of his bottom lip, smoothing the skin out, while he just ponders me and probably his own questions.

Blushing furiously, I'm quick to stutter, “I don't need anything...” Because I think I know what he's implying. There was no warning but I think I recognize the switch, subtle and so sudden, just like last time. The difference here is that, instead of having me on all fours, unable to see his ominous expression, he is facing me full-on with his demand and his intonation, lower, lazier, more languorous, he's perspiring this odd feeling coming straight from the curious place his mind has taken him. And once again, he's taking me there and while it's tempting, it's also terrifying. Maybe too scary for me to indulge in.

“You don't?” Yoongi's eyebrows raise high. He pouts, tilting his head to the side, eyes diverting away breaking all of the heavy tension streaming between us, “Alright...” And as soon as his burning gaze leaves me, the cold hits me like a harsh winter breeze.

“Actually I do! Sorry, I do.”

There’s a silent agreement passing between us. I’m not sure if it’s him being so loud and opinionated about what he wants that make it so I understand him, as opposed as us just getting each other now, but it feels so pleasing.

Yoongi raises from his chair, sharp eyes glowing like a wolf's gaze in a kid's nightmare. He’s so scary in a way. He’s like the terrifying werewolf with no hidden agenda, bloody quest exposed right in the open, except I want to fall right in between his pointy canines.

Yoongi throws a quick glance to the closed door of his studio before his incisive eyes find me again. He looks so intimidating from up there, I want to ask him to at least take his stupid hat off.

When he grabs my chin in between his fingers, I’m sweating bullets, heart losing it in a feast of tachycardia, wondering how the big wolf is going to eat me up, and why the hell did I think for a second it was a good idea. Yoongi simply kisses me. Simply being the keyword. Softly, he presses his lips against mine, adding enough pressure to turn the butterfly switch on but nothing more just yet.

Parting away to look for something in my eyes, I catch a glimpse of his pink tongue swiping over his lips before they stretch into a pretty smile. Is that what Yoongi needs to smile? Intimacy?

But then he’s grabbing me by the hand, lifting me to my feet, meeting my mouth again more roughly, more insistent, dragging tiny whines from deep within, carving his fingerprints in the flesh of my waist. I’m impossibly close to him, feeling the hard edges of his belt digging into my stomach, and I’m turned a little crazy.

I’m flushed to the tip of my hair. Wavering eyes watery, hardly making out my surroundings. My head is spinning. Maybe I’m too sensitive for this shit. It’s been some time since the last time I’ve been any close to intimate with someone, nevertheless, I’m pretty certain it has more to do with him than with the period of my inactivity. I don’t think anyone has ever made kissing so breathtaking. Those nice but rather plain and awkward kisses from before are put to shame. And who would have thought Mean Yoongi would be the one to do so?

“Is this what you need?” It’s like there’s only greed and eagerness filling me up now. I nod furiously while he cackles and I’d be annoyed if it were not for his cold hands still holding my waist. He leans in, nibbles gently on my bottom lip, “More?”

“Yes please.” He chuckles against my face and gives in to me. It's strange how different yet recognizable he feels. His body, as he crashes me against it by his grip on my ass, feels sturdy, still like a statue. It's so Yoongi. As opposed to his mouth, scorching, wet and sultry.

Where does it even come from? Was he always this way? I know, well know, that Yoongi is made of thousands of layers. More or less hidden, more or less guarded. Yet, I had no idea that he had one like this one. The way his hands knead my ass, my sides, my thighs, the way his mouth cherish mine with so much confidence and natural -when did that antisocial hermit learn to melt with someone else like so? It's like he's taken me in a hazy half-conscious-slumber, I end up waking up from once I'm straddling his lap, on the sofa.

Yoongi looks into my eyes, his even more squinted than usual. “Is this okay?” His fingers, now torrid, are teasing the hem of my shirt, not yet daring wandering under the tissue.

“Yes, touch me.” Something in his eyes clicks. I'm sure he's about to comment on my almost order but for some reasons, probably the same for my dripping panties, decides to ignore it.

It feels so strange. I was there for the whole thing, my sticky panties and flushed skin witnesses of it, yet it feels so sudden when I'm lain there, my tee thrown away, and his hands undoing my pants. It's the cold from the leather couch, shocking my naked back, the view of the ceiling I've never thought about ackowledging, I almost feel like it's too much, too weird and it shouldn't be happening. Because who is Yoongi, who am I, what are we -even though I like to slip and impose my existence into his life, and I'm sure he doesn't mind as he is one to express himself pretty well. If there is one thing that I can admire about his rudeness, it's that it doesn't come from a bad place. It comes from one of love and respect and consideration for his own person, and that's respectable. Therefore I know he would have worded it out if he really wanted me out of his way, strictly in Taehyung's hair and not bleeding on him. I guess we're friends. Sort of. Not the most intimate of friends but close enough to count on each other -if plants need watering. That's pretty big. Isn't it pretty big? Namjoon said so anyway, but it might just be because he is peculiarly serious about his own green friends.

So, as our friendship is just blooming I'd say, it still holds a dear place in my heart and I'm confused as to this whole thing being a good idea or not. Just lying there, in the cold, it feels horrible.

But then he's purring. His eyes are grazing my body, blessing every single inch of it with his attention, pink tongue poking at the side of his half-opened mouth, and he's purring. It's that other very Yoongi thing: a mix between a hum and a moan, coming right through his pretty crimson lips like a big cat's purr. He does it all the time, unconscious of it, and hearing it warms my heart with a blanket of reassurance. I could not say if it's the familiarity or his heated gaze, either way, I know I want it. The consequences will have to be dealt with later on.

(“Beautiful.” It's so quiet. Not meant for me to hear but I can make it out from the way his lips wrap around the word.)

Yoongi is not a douche. A little bit, but certainly far from enough to break my heart. Why do I even bother worrying?

I jump off of the couch, my hands joining his on my jeans to get me ridden off the now offensive clothing quicker. He feels the switch. His eyes bore into mine with a glint, eyebrows slightly raised and a smirk showing off his cute turtle teeth. Jumping back on his lap, I kiss his mouth, wanting to catch his pretty smile.

How lucky I am. How wonderful it feels to have this man dive his whole precious attention on me.

“I really want you, Yoongi.” I say because he needs to know, especially when he's lowering his head slightly to avoid meeting my intense eyes directly. I'm sure if Yoongi was one to blush, his soft cheeks would be covered in crimson. He can't handle the compliment, I can tell. Maybe I should make fun of him but I don't want to when I look down at his beautiful hands, white as snow, streaked with large veins, looking so nice on me. Therefore, I don't say anything and he deems it's time to start again.

His thumb falls over my panties, pressing nicely right on my buddle of nerve. I exhale, loudly, as he circles over it. My hands titillate at the hem of his black tee, hoping he'll hint at taking it off. Of course, he doesn't, even makes me forget about it by slipping his whole hand in my panties, his mouth eagerly attaching back to my gaping lips. It feels delectable, my clit sitting perfectly in the pit of his warm palm while his fingers dip in between my wet folds, teasing my entry. And when he finally indulges in it, my craving hole sucks his bony fingers in. I gasp messing up my breathing, he smiles in the kiss, already adding a second finger. It's a tight fit. His fingers are not that large, quite long and angular, but it's been some time and I can't help my walls from clamping around him each time the thought of Min Yoongi having his fingers buried deep in my cunt floats in my messy consciousness.

“Yoongi, I really want you.”

“I know.” He mumbles, lips pressed against the corner of my mouth. He doesn't understand though.

I'm humping on his lap now, helping his fingers fucking me by riding them but the slow, lazy course along my neck hint at something I don't want. He wants to take his time. I'm not up for it though. Taking off his hat without thinking it over, my hands reach to smooth his bleached hair down. He's watching me with big curious eyes while I arrange them on his forehead. Yoongi looks soft again. His white gold locks are falling low under his eyebrows. Hard to be intimidated by this look, so I demand, “I mean now, please.”

Yoongi slips his hand out of my panties -my mouth falls into a pout on reflex, thinking he's going to be mean again-, and grabs his belt to tear it open. Holding me by his free arm wrapped around my back, he raises up enough to free himself from his jeans. I land back, flushed as ever, my heart burning in my chest from how hard and fast it beats. His cock, snow white except for the tip, flushed and shiny with precum, appears to me. The way his hand slides along it, firm and harsh, hints at how hard he is. It feels indecent, this moment, him stroking himself so close to me, a hand on my hip, his eyes deep in mines. “Do you have a condom?” I stutter.

He reaches for the little drawer of the coffee table, catching one and proceeding to put him on. Why would he have condoms in his studio? In the coffee table?

“Aren't you glad I do?” Yoongi asks, a smug smirk painting his face. His pointer slips under the crotch of my panties, dragging to the side to uncover my sex. He gives me a soft kiss. “Sure?”

I have to literally violent myself into not rolling my eyes to the back of my head. I do a bad job apparently, as he groans something I'm pretty sure to be a cuss, lifting me up to have me sink down on him in one go.

I'm glad to see he's as affected as me. He's pressing his lips compressed together, frowned eyebrows peeking out through his fringe. And I wonder what words, maybe insanities, he'd be saying if he wasn't trying so hard to conceal any sound from leaving his mouth. It takes me what feels like an eternity before I feel safe enough to start moving, sliding slowly up and down his shaft. From the way his grip on my hips had getting mordacious, he was not ready to have me slide on him which I kind of love to think about. I'm quite impatient, greedy on the edges. But the stimulation is vivid. Overwhelming. He's not only buried deep in my cunt, but he's also clouding my mind, making my brain lag, burning my heart in a bitter-sweet fire at each wet kisses to my face, each purr in my ear.

“Come on...” He groans, one of his hand befalling hard on my ass cheek. “Fuck me-”

“Yoongi-” I ride him harder, meeting his thrusts, helping him graze that triggering spot, blending my moans with his. He tries to stay quiet, I can tell, but fails miserably. His face is hidden in my hair, his mouth attached to my ear, I can hear the full extent of the erratic breathing and his groans and his purrs. Fisting his sweat-soaked tee, I whine shamelessly, “I'm almost-”

“Come- come for me.” My fingers hardly touch my clit before I'm exploding around him. He lashes our mouths, catching my cry and swallowing it in, before he growls from the back of his throat, teeth accidentally biting hard on my lip. “Shit.”

It takes a little while for us to come down from the high. I can't help but keep languishingly riding, caressing the back of his hair and placing thankful kisses on his cheeks and jaw. His rough hands smooth my skin out, from my shoulders to my thighs, he's so gentle, refusing to slip out of my warmth and my cheeks flush from the thought alone.

“You're not gonna say thanks?”

“Min Yoongi!”

“You look way less miserable than you did earlier.” He comments, observing me slipping my tee back on, crimson abused lips stretching on his turtle grin. “Should say thanks.”

“You sleeping here?” Sleeping here? I can't even imagine the discussion over logistics. Sleeping in his studio? In his bed? On the living room couch? What about the fucking morning? I furiously shake my head no. “Hm. Text me when you get home.” He says as he or another one of the 6 other young men living in the dorm says each time I leave this place relatively late in the evening.

So it should be it. I don't know if I'm disappointed or not. I am waiting for something else, yet without really knowing what I have to admit. As I open the door to leave, waving my hand awkwardly his way, he grabs it, brings me to him to place a sweet peck on my mouth. “Text me.” I wish he'd say more but that's Mean Yoongi. It’s fine because this time I’m sure he means more.

[kaspbrak-tozier-reddie]

Band of Toziers - 4/?- ao3 

Pairings: Reddie, Storis, Byler

Words: 14.5k

Preview:

- The Losers come over as soon as Eddie send them a text, with a 'Code WTF?!' - The Party drive up to Derry to meet Richie after Mike sends them all a text Just a sappy chapter on Mike, Boris and Richie meeting the Party and Losers Club.

We're now getting some Reddie, Storis and Byler stuff now ❤

Notes:

Because there are two Mikes, I'm calling Mike Wheeler 'Mike' and Mike Hanlon 'Michael', when the two are in the same place. If I get lazy or lose track, I may refer to both by their surnames just to lessen the confusion.

This does jump from boy to boy, so I'm sorry but it should get better. I've never done this sort of thing before.

An hour after Eddie had sent a 'Code WTF' (Unique situation - changes per person), Bev rushes over. She doesn't bother with the front door and jumps in through Richie's bedroom window.

"Uhhh, did you make a clone machine?" Bev asks as soon as she picks herself off the floor. She eyeballs the three Richie's in the room, noting the subtle differences between the 3 and picks out her Richie, the only one with the bad eyesight. The other two look like weird variations of Richie's personalities.

Happy Richie:

Okay, now she's reaching, but that's just the vibe he gives her.

Emo Richie:

Fall Out Boy,

My Chemical Romance, and

Panic! at the Disco.

maybe industrial

maybe a plug

double lobe

Bev's reaching, but she wants to have fun before they come by and trash her judgement.

"Hi I'm Michael, but you can call me Mike," the one dressed in bright colours says, holding out his hand towards the young redhead.

"Hi, Mike," Bev replies.

"I'm Boris," the emo looking Richie says.

"Hi, I'm Beverly, but please call me Bev," she replies. Her strong demeanour falters into shyness. Nothing about this is okay. Why hadn’t Richie told any of them about his family?

”So, uh, I’ll explain when the others get here,” Richie says.

As they all wait for the rest of the Losers to arrive, the 5 of them sit in absolute silence. Bev is confused, watching as the three Toziers interacted with each other just by eye glances. She noted a heap of similarities in their demeanours. "Weird right?" Eddie asks.

"Yeah, and here I thought one Richie was enough," Bev replies.

Richie's bedroom door swings open and in walks the rest of the Losers Club. "SUP FUCKERS?!" Bill screams as he enters, then he sees the 3 Toziers sitting around Richie's desk. "Oh shit!" Stan, Ben and Mike spot the 3 Toziers in the room. Completely disregarding Eddie and Bev who are chilling by the window.

"Richard, did you finally make that cloning machine? The one you've been talking about?" Stan asks.

"Nope," Richie replies. "This is my twin brother, Mike." He gestures to the identical twin in the bright clothing, "and this is our cousin, Boris."

As Boris looks at the rest of the Losers, he locks eyes with a blonde-haired boy. He smiles slightly, at him, and the boy smiles back.

Now was Richie's introduction of the Losers, all groaning in dread

"Guys, this is Big Bill, our ring leader. If he jumped off a cliff, he'd expect us all to follow," Richie says as he hugs the leader.

"This is Haystack, he's a gifted poet. It got him a girl that's way outta his league," Richie points to Bev and tussles Ben's hair.

"This is Mike Meyers, you know, that dude from Austin Powers. Mike's our nerd, he lives in the library."

"Finally, we have Staniel or Stanley Urine, either one works. He likes watching birds, at first I thought he liked watching girls but I found out he meant the actual animals. So I promise, he's not a creepoid."

Mike and Boris laugh simultaneously.

"Ignore him," Stan says. "I'm Stanley Uris, that's Mike Hanlon, Ben Hanscom and Bill Denbrough." Stan throws a quick smile to Boris before looking away, blushing.

Beverly catches it in her peripheral vision. Stan's demeanour changed as soon as he saw Boris. "Eddie, do you know if Stan had a crush on Richie at some point?" Bev asks the hypochondriac. Eddie feels a pinch of jealousy running through his veins but still thinks upon it. He wasn't subtle with his feelings, but if Stan did have a crush on Richie, it would've been subtle. The hypochondriac tries to get into Stan's mind but comes up blank.

"I don't think so, why?" Eddie responds.

"I swear I just saw Stan blush."

Eddie sits upright and looks directly at Stan.  He tries to hide his jealousy, and takes his time before saying, "Richie?"

Bev shakes her head, "Boris."

Eddie wants to laugh, that can't be right. Stan is emotionless and often talks about dying or birds. So, it can't be true, that Stan blushed, Bev must've been seeing things. But then he sees it for himself, Stan is laughing with Boris, his cheeks are bright red but he doesn't even care. He elbows Bev and gestures to Stan, she smirks, then turns back to Eddie. "So, what about you and the Trashmouth? Told him yet?"

"No," Eddie lies through gritted teeth. He has to talk to Richie about it first before they tell the Losers.

*

"So, Mike, you seeing anyone?" Ben asks Richie's twin.

"Yeah, my best friend, Will Byers," Mike replies.

"Gee Rich, step up your game and ask out Eddie," Bill says.

"I thought that - " Mike sees Richie shaking his head; he doesn't continue.

Much like Eddie, Richie wants to wait until he has spoken to his hypochondriac boyfriend.

Richie listens in on Mike, learning about his group of friends. Like Richie's group, they have a name for themselves. Instead of the 'Losers Club', Mike's group calls themselves the Party.

There's a shit ton of similarities between the two groups that Richie realises as Mike explains. The Party sit in Mike's basement playing Dungeons and Dragons (D&D) and the Losers Club sit in an underground bunker (clubhouse) doing god knows what, mostly drinking and playing 'truth or dare' or 'never have I ever'.

Then as Mike starts explaining his friends, Richie quickly learns that Mike's their ring leader like Bill's the Losers Club's leader.

Will sounds a bit like Eddie;

Dustin = Richie;

Lucas = Stan;

Jane = Ben;

Maxine 'Max' = Bev; and

Steve = Mike.

Richie got all of that just by Mike's descriptions of his friends. It amazes Richie, sometimes, how fast his mind works. Maybe it also has something to do with his undiagnosed ADHD.

"Anyone want anything to drink?" Richie asks, they all said 'yes'. "Eds, can you help me?"

"How many times, Richard? Don't call me 'Eds'!" Eddie responds and gets up, following his tall boyfriend down the stairs.

*

"Hey, Boris, can I talk to you for a second?" Beverly asks the 'emo-looking' Richie.

"Yeah, okay," Boris replies, he gets up from his seat on the desk and sits on the window sill, beside Bev.

"Do you like Stan?" It catches Boris off guard, it stammers a little. "It's just, he's been blushing like mad and he never really does that." Boris looks towards the blonde-haired boy for the umpteenth time today.

There are several things that Boris notices about the bird expert. The way he stands when talking to people; perfect posture. His hand gestures as he speaks. Boris is not one to believe in 'love at first sight' but he thinks that he can let this one slide. There's just something different about Stanley compared to Theo. He started to like Theo a few months after they started to hang out, maybe it was the drugs or the alcohol but he's been sober for 48 hours now. He hasn't had a craving for weed, coke or alcohol since he laid his eyes on the blonde-haired boy.

Beverly nudges Boris, "you're staring," she states. "I can hook you two up if you want?"

"No thank you, Beverly. I need to get to know Kolibri first," Boris says.

"'Kolibri'?"

"It means Hummingbird in Russian." Boris removes himself and goes back to join Mike and the others.

Bev just lets it sink in, 'Hummingbird'. Why did he call Stan a Hummingbird?

He did make Stan laugh before; it makes sense. Maybe.

Stan looks over to Bev, she quickly signals over. He mutters a quick 'sorry' to Mike, and pads over to Bev. "You called?" Stan says.

"Do you like Boris?" Bev asks, cutting to the chase, she's not in the mood for that airy-fairy bullshit.

"No, maybe, yes? I don't know," Stan sighs.

He too isn't one to believe in 'love at first sight', he finds it bullshit. But he couldn't explain his feelings about Boris any other way.

"He called you a hummingbird, in Russian."

"It's the way I laugh, it sounds like I'm humming." Stan smiles and blushes. Beverly had only ever seen one person do that, and that was Eddie whenever he spoke about Richie. With Eddie, it was a sign of embarrassment and shame because of the bullshit lies Sonia fed him. But Stan? Stan's is because he's shy, he's opening up to Beverly about something that he would normally go to Richie for. Richie would make a joke, to break the tension, but would 100% support him.

"Is it weird? He looks so much like Richie, I need to talk to him." Stan gets up and goes downstairs to where Richie and Eddie are pouring everyone a drink.

*

"Richie, Eddie, can I talk to you both ab - " Stan cuts himself off as he walks in on Richie and Eddie kissing. "Never mind." He does a 180 and heads back to the stairs.

"Wait!" Richie calls, "We'll explain just tell us what you wanted, please."

"Okay, I'll go first," Stan says, he sighs, "I may have developed some sort of crush on your cousin." Eddie's jaw drops; he didn't misread Stan. Richie smiles, which freaks Stanley out. "Why are you smiling?"

"Because it's cute!" Richie exclaims.

"But he looks like you! I just don't think - "

"You worried you'd get feelings for me or something?"  

Stan pauses for a bit and looks at the ground. "I don't know, maybe. You both look alike, he's basically like you. So's Mike."

"Stan, look at me." Stan moves his head up and meets Richie's eyes. "Look me dead in the eyes and tell me that you only see me as a friend."

Stan looks to Eddie, who's still got his lips parted. The blonde boy smiles momentarily at Eddie, then looks back to Richie. He searches Richie's face, looking at the similarities between Boris and him; physically. Okay, so Richie's kinda hot, Stan thinks, but as he gets to the personality, Boris is more chill and conventional. He isn't spontaneous like Richie is.

Richie is bothersome, his jokes are appalling and not to mention his flirting with Eddie. Considering what Stan just saw in the kitchen, he's hoping that Richie will be less vexatious. But then again, even before Eddie, Richie was annoying. Who knew a 5-year-old could be that irritating? Also, he's astonishingly intelligent, barely has to study for anything and will still pass with flying colours (it'll be interesting to see what he'll be like at college). Stan's spent too much time with the trashmouth that he's not fully attracted to him, besides his looks. But that's because Boris, who looks a lot like Richie, opened a floodgate.

"I like you as a friend," Stan says, staring at Richie.

"Also, Stan, please don't say anything to the others about Rich and me, please," Eddie says.

"Wouldn't dream of it, Kaspbrak," Stan replies and grabs a tray off the bench.

*

The three boys carry up a tray each of the drinks, for the Losers, Mike and Boris. Richie gives Stan a wink and shoves him lightly into Boris, causing him to fall directly into Boris' lap. Stan gives a tight embarrassed smile at Boris before giving Richie the middle finger, to which, Richie responds with his own.

Mike watches from the sidelines, looking between both Richie, Stan & Boris. He nudges Michael, "Does that normally happen?" Mike asks.

"Hmm, no, Stan and Richie say one or two words to each other. Then just stare,"  Michael replies. "Richie smiling at Stan? That's not normal."

"When Richie tried to set Stan up with Greg, he smiled exactly ... " Bill trails off and looks directly to Stan, who, by the way. hasn't bothered to remove himself from Boris' lap. "Oh."

Even Ben and Bev notice the smile that Richie is giving Stan, whenever their eyes lock. Everyone in that damn room can see that Richie and Stan are best friends. Mike Wheeler thought that maybe Richie and Stan hated each other but that smile; that god damn smile ... It's living proof that Stan likes Richie's opinion. Because Richie and Stan are best friends.

Bev walks over to the three boys, leaving her boyfriend with Richie and Eddie. "You know, Stan told me that he needed to speak to Richie," Bev says.

"That makes no sense," Michael says. "Stan has never once asked for Richie's advice."

"Whenever Richie and I have our smoke sessions on Fridays, he tells me if Stan had spoken to him," Bev explains. "Not to mention, Richie goes to him before he comes to me."

"Wait, wait. Does that mean that Stan found out that Richie was gay before you did?" Bill asks. Bev nodded. "If you knew for a whole 5 months, Stan knew for what? 5, 6? Months?"

"8, actually." The boys' jaws drop; Stan had kept a secret for 8 months and said nothing?

It puzzles the Losers as to why the two-act like they hate each other when, in reality, they're the best of friends.

Mike is just listening in by this point when he starts to get a little bored - he's not going to lie. He decides to talk with the others on the opposite side of the room.

"How's it going, Mike?" Eddie asks.

"Good, good. This is the chaos that I miss," The Party's leader says. "It was before we met Jane and Maxine, it was just us boys."

"Chaotic as fuck?" Richie chimes in, Mike laughs and nods his head. "Say, Mikey, invite your friends up. We've got the room and I'm sure mom won't care. If not, we can chill at Mike's farm."

Mike shrugs and pulls his phone out from his pocket. He opens the Party's group chat inviting the Party up to Derry.

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

A few hours later, the Losers, Boris and Mike all head down to the clubhouse. Showing the two newcomers the ropes. As per usual, Eddie and Richie sit in the hammock, just not head to toe like normal. More like sitting side-by-side, cuddling. "Say, Koromyslo, you and Edward? Yeah?" Boris pipes up. Richie ignores the question, only focusing on the unknown word that sounds a Russian translation of sorts.

"What's a 'koromyslo'?" Richie asks.

"Rocker," Boris says monotonously. "So you and Edward? Yes?" Stan giggles.

"You fucking snitch, Stan!" Richie yelps.

"I said nothing, you two are so obvious!" Stan laughs. "You always sit head to toe. Now you're cuddling?"

"You're insufferable," Richie mutters.

"He isn't denying it," Beverly says. "Did you two finally admit your feelings?"

Richie rolls his eyes and looks at Eddie, the boy beside him nods head slowly with caution. The Trashmouth cups Eddie's face in his hands and kisses him. He goes to lean down a little more, trying his best to get in a comfortable position but accidentally leans too much into Eddie. The hammock rocks dangerously and tips the two boys out.

Richie's glasses are just millimetres from falling off his face and are held up by Eddie's shoulder. Quickly fixing them, he looks up to see Eddie straddling him. "Well, I like this view," Richie says. Eddie groans in disgust.

Why? Goddammit, Richie! Eddie thinks to himself

"Come on guys! Leave this place for our innocent childhoods!" Ben groans.

Eddie pushes himself off Richie, dusting himself down before holding out his hand for Richie. "Damn, then I can't tell you ... eh, who am I kidding? I've jerked off to the thought of Eddie's mom down here," Richie says.

"BEEP BEEP RICHIE!" All 6 Losers groan and Eddie punches him in the arm.

"Why do I like you?" Eddie mutters.

Richie looks somewhat offended but knows that Eddie is 100% joking. The two reposition on the hammock and Richie leans over to grab a comic book. His backpack sits by the wooden post that's barely within arms reach. Bev watches on, silently hoping that the hammock tips over again; that would be priceless.

*

Mike and Boris watch the Losers Club sit around minding their own business. Richie and Eddie are reading a comic together, while Stan is bird watching, from a hole in the ceiling. Bev, Ben, Mike (Hanlon) and Bill are playing cards quietly by the swing.

The only sounds that can be heard are the rustling of pages turning; rope squeaking, as the hammock rocks gently; leaves rustling above them, and birds chirping.

Suddenly a buzzing noise interrupts the silence, every head in the underground bunker turns to Mike. He pulls his phone from his pocket.

"Hey, babe?" Mike answers.

"We'll be there in like a day. We're catching a flight now," Will says on the other side of the call.

"Okay, see you tomorrow, Will. Love you."

"Love you too."

Mike hangs up the phone. "What?" Everyone goes back to what they were doing, leaving Mike to his thoughts.

"It's 6 pm, guys," Bill says.

"Crap! Mom's not going to be happy! I'll be grounded for sure!" Eddie says.

"You're staying at mine, remember?" Richie says as he helps Eddie out of the hammock.

"Shoot, sorry, Rich."

"All good, Eds."

Mike follows but looks back to Boris, who's waiting patiently for Stan. The Wheeler boy sees something in his cousin's eye; a look that he's seen today and every day, for the past year. It's the look of love, no doubt about it. He climbs up the corroded aluminium ladder where Richie and Eddie are waiting. Mike feels a slight wind change and sees Eddie shiver. As if on intuition, his brother wraps his arms, tightly, around the hypochondriac. "Hurry, you two. Eddie will get hypothermia!" Mike calls.

"It's not that - " Stan emerges from the bunker and immediately gets hit with the wind change. "Never mind, it's a wee bit chilly."

Boris quickly hoists himself up and shrugs off his leather jacket, enveloping it around Stan's shoulders. The boy blushes ferociously, as he tugs the jacket's opening together, he leans into Boris for extra warmth.

As the 5 of them walk up to the streets of Derry, Mike feels like he's 5th wheeling, slowing down his pace to walk behind the couples - one couple; Richie breaks his awkwardness.

"I was thinking since your friends and boyfriend are coming tomorrow, what if we go on a camping trip? The 6 of us? The week before we're set to go to college?" Richie says.

"Hang on Rich, 6 of us?" Stan asks.

"Well, wouldn't want Boris to be 5th wheeling now, would we?" Richie replies, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

"Yeah, but why me?" Stan states.

Richie simply points to the leather jacket that's enveloped around the blonde's shoulders. Stan reddens again, leaning into Boris to conceal his embarrassment, but that only makes it worse.

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

The following day, Mike awaits the arrival of his friends. All but Dustin and Lucas were coming, due to last-minute college plans and family vacations, the two couldn't make it; but Max, Will and El are coming. The three of them are catching a taxi into town. "When were you friends supposed to get here?" Maggie asks Mike.

"9 am," Mike replies, still pacing impatiently. The clock on the wall reads '11 am', the Party is 2 hours late and Mike's starting to worry. "Maybe their flight's delayed."

Maggie nods, hugging her second son briefly before heading off to work, leaving Mike and Richie alone, in the kitchen. The Wheeler boy checks his phone again for the 10th time within the past 20 minutes, still no messages from his friends. Richie makes another cup of coffee for himself, putting himself in the way of Mike's pacing line.

"Check the Snapmap," Richie says, getting annoyed with his brother's pacing.

"I don't have snap chat, and neither do my friends," Mike replies.

Abruptly, a boy comes down the stairs in nothing but boxers, huffing out in annoyance. Boris could hear the two of them, all the way upstairs. He's usually a heavy sleeper so how the fuck is Eddie still asleep?

"What even is social media?" Boris replies groggily.

"Did you seriously just get up?" Mike ripostes.

"Yes, now quiet. I need my normal 4 cups of coffee before anyone talks to me," Boris says and grabs the pot of coffee, pouring it into a mug that he pulls from the cabinet above. Richie and Boris leave the kitchen to wake up elsewhere, allowing Mike to deal with his chaotic crisis.

*

Finally, 3 hours later, the Party shows up, "What the hell?" Mike says as he stands on the bottom-most stair. "Where have you guys been?!"

"Our taxi broke down, we had to walk all the way here. No reception." Will puffs out.

"Mike, who's at the - oh, hello," Richie says as he goes down the stairs. "I take it, you're Will." Will just about faints when he sees Richie and it doesn't help that Boris exits from the kitchen, causing poor Will to faint.

Richie yells for Eddie with his 2 fanny packs (that he no longer uses) but still has first aid supplies.

The feisty young lad comes bounding down the stairs with a cold and wet cloth. "Well, lay him down," Eddie says. "And Boris, Richie, mind if you leave the room? I don't want him to faint again." The trashmouth and the emo leave the room, while Eddie tends to Will.

"Richie wasn't kidding," Mike says.

"Yeah well, you pick up a few things when your mom makes you think you're sick when you not," Eddie retorts; he turns his head to look at the girls. "Hey, I'm Eddie, Mike's told us all about you."

"I'm El, and this is Max," the brunette says. "Who were those boys?"

"The one with the glasses is Richie, my boyfriend and Mike's brother. They had no idea that the other existed until yesterday." Eddie explains. "The other, dressed in black, is Boris, their cousin. He was adopted by a Russian family when his parents died. His story is super morbid."

Will stirs on the couch and Mike rushes to take Eddie's place beside Will, keeping the cool cloth on his head. "What happened?" Will asks.

"You fainted, guess my brother and cousin are a bit too much," Mike says. "You okay?"

Will nods and Mike leans down to peck his lips.

"Don't worry, I'll bring them out, just don't faint on me again," Mike says.

"Wouldn't dream of it," Will replies, the boy spots Eddie in his peripheral vision. "I'm Will Byers."

"Eddie Kaspbrak," Eddie replies and takes the cloth off Will's forehead.

Mike walks back out with Richie and Boris; the two boys behind him, scratch the backs of their heads nervously as they are introduced to each of the Party members. So as it turned out, Mike and El dated before Mike got with Will. It had taken El moving away with the Byers for Mike to realise that he wasn't in love with El, he was in love with Will. "I had spoken to El, about it," Mike says, "thankfully she was understanding."

"We were better off as friends anyway," El states.

It's awkward for a moment, and Richie thinks of a good icebreaker. "Shall we head down to the quarry?" Richie asks.

"Where Koromyslo?" Boris asks.

"You know where we were yesterday?" Boris and Mike nod, "It's a few yards further, it's where we like to go swimming."

"Ahem!" Eddie fake coughs.

"Sorry, most of us, like to go swimming. Eddie hates it because there are germs," Richie fixes. "But, babe, let me just say that there are germs everywhere you go, including a hospital."

Eddie rolls his eyes. "If we're going, we need swimwear," Eddie says. El and Max look at each other, "Shit, Richie maybe we should go and get Bev."

Richie whips his phone out and immediately starts texting the redhead and not even 2 minutes later, she's bursting into the Tozier residence.

"I heard two gals needed swimmers," Bev says. "Hello, I'm Beverly Marsh, the only girl in the group of 7 dirty annoying, chaotic boys."

"Piss off Marsh, I just wanted the swimmers. You're not coming," Richie spits, then starts laughing and as does Bev. "Sorry, she can be a bit of a handful sometimes. Ignore her, she's just happy that she has other females to talk to."

The redhead sticks her tongue out at the trashmouth, only to get a middle finger in return. "Well Bev, I'm Maxine, Max for short. And this is El," the other redhead says. "I think we're going to get along just fine." Bev leads them up the stairs, letting the 4 boys wonder what the fuck just happened.

"Girls." They all said simultaneously.

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

As the lot of them finally made it to the quarry, they are aced with the massive cliff. "Is it safe to jump?" Max asks.

"We do it all the time," Richie says.

"Yeah, after Bev constantly shows us up," Eddie replies and on cue the redhead pushes past everyone, jumping straight into the murky green water below. Boris goes next, somersaulting into the water.

"Oh come on!" Richie cries and goes to do a run up.

"No! Don't you dare, that's dangerous"' Eddie says sternly, Richie gestures to Boris. "You're clumsy and idiotic; he's probably done a heap of practice. Do. Not. Do. It."

Taking his boyfriend's advice he just does a basic run and jump, landing feet first in the disgusting water below.

Since Eddie is left with the newcomers he links them up, standing in between El and Will, taking both their hands in his and guiding them forward. Mike spits out the shitty water that got into his mouth and as does Eddie.

Boris, Bev and Mike immediately start to splash each other and wrestle, in the water; while Richie sits on the sandbank to get to know the others a bit.

Max starts off, talking about how she beat Mike's highest score on an arcade game. It was the initial reason as to why she thought Mike hated her. ' 'MadMax' beat my high score '. Richie and her, got talking about skateboarding, he had always wanted to try it but never got around to it. "I'll show you, I taught El not too long ago and now she's a pro," Max says.

"Well, in that case, sign me up," Richie replies.

El's next. She had fled the orphanage when she was 12/13, she met Mike, Dustin and Lucas in the woods one rainy night while they were looking for Will. Richie starts to laugh as El said that Mike hid her in his basement for a solid few months without no one knowing besides Dustin and Lucas.

Before Will can say a word, Richie feels cold water on his now partially dry hair. "You're dead Marsh!" Richie bellows.

"It wasn't Marsh this time," Eddie teases.

"I don't care that I love you, you're going down Kaspbrak!"

Will, Max and El watch on as Richie and Eddie tackle each other, laughing.