#I had a black wallpaper on my phone for such a long time that bright wallpapers is a big no no for me now…

[olasketches]

(one and a half year later) I finally changed my phone’s wallpaper

[bbunivxrse]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ 2:34AM ‒ megumi fushiguro

pairing ‒ 21+megumi x f!reader contents ‒ College AU, alcohol consumption, gets a bit suggestive at one part but no smut, heartbroken megumi gets wasted asfff, a bit angsty word count ‒ 2.3k a/n ‒ a tad bit angsty fgjioejio wrote this at like 4am if you see mistakes no tf u didnt ??? - also making my posts more nice n pretty n aesthetic cuz i felt like it :3

Megumi Fushiguro sat alone on the couch at a party. he can’t recall why he was there or how many shots he had but everything was starting to get cloudy. girl after girl walking up to him, offering him drinks. he hates alcohol. he hates the taste, he hates the smell, he hates the feeling of it in his mouth and going down his throat, he hates being drunk and he hates being hungover, yet he continues accepting all their offers. the women were hot but none of them were you. maybe he thought if he drank enough he could forget the past, forget the guilt and move on from everything like he should’ve a long time ago. he thought if he got drunk enough the regretful thoughts of the past would go away and the thoughts of you along with it. then he could go on with his life. but the more he drank the more present it became and the more his reality began to shatter at the thought.

girl after girl came up to him, sat near him, sat beside him, sat on him, yet it was only you he could think about. he gladly took their drinks but could barely have a one sided conversation with them for a few minutes before shooing them away.

as the party went on it felt like the music got louder and the lights brighter. his head pounded and he felt nauseous. ‘what am i doing here.’ megumi sinks into the couch, trying to keep himself calm by taking deep breaths and grounding himself in reality. ‘i wanna go home.’ he takes out his phone and stares at his lock screen, it was pitch black with only the white text of the time and date showing. he remembers when it used to be a picture of you with the text showing how far away you were from him. a picture you had taken of yourself in the mirror and sent to him, moments later he had it saved and set it to his wallpaper. he remembers your reaction when you saw it, a bright smile on your face while he was a bit embarrassed to be caught doing something he considered a bit ‘obsessive.’ 

megumi is ripped from his thoughts as someone taps on his shoulder. “wanna have a drink with me..?” he looks up to a see a woman standing right in front of him, a bottle of wine in her hand. megumi wanted to say no, and he was about to, until he took a closer look. ‘she looks just like her’. no, she wasnt exactly the same, but she was similar. from the shape of her body to the way she did her makeup, the way she styled her hair, the jewelry she wore and the shy expression on her face. even the damn dress she wore was similar to the short, black, skin tight dress he had bought you. she was so similar, so familiar, but it still wasn’t you. “sure.”

megumi patted his lap for her to sit down. she handed him the entire bottle and the two of them shared until the bottle was finished. they chatted as they took swigs from the bottle of wine, and as the conversation went on megumi continued to realize that as similar as she seemed, she wasn’t you. it started to throw him off. she didn’t talk like you, she didn’t have the same favourite colour or have the same aspirations. she was still a stranger. she felt like you, looked like you, dressed like you, she almost was you. almost. “let’s go somewhere private.”

megumi pulls her off his lap and leads this mysterious women to a bedroom. this would be the first time he’s fucked another woman since getting with you, even though it’s been months since you left him. he hasn’t even looked at another woman until tonight. he closes the door to the bedroom, the mystery woman pulling him closer and putting her lips on his. ‘she doesn’t kiss like her.’ megumi is yet again reminded that as much as he wants this to be you and he’s willing to pretend it’s you, it’s not you. still, he allows her to unbotton his shirt as they make out and get into bed. she hiked up her dress for him, revealing her black laced panties. ‘her favourite set was red.’

megumi hovers over her, his eyes dead set on her panties making her a bit uncomfortable. ‘what am i doing?’ he questions himself, the headache starting to come back as the music that was previously bothering him can be heard from downstairs. “i need to go.” 

“what?” megumi barely gives her a chance to speak before getting out of bed and heading out the door. she fixes herself up before following after him, but by the time she’s back to the party, he’s already gone. 

megumi stumbles down the sidewalk, aimlessly walking into the night. the streetlights barely illuminate the sidewalk as he tried to keep himself upright. he finds himself at a dimly lit park, throwing himself onto a park bench. he groans as he takes out his phone, the bright light blinding him and making his skull splitting headache worse. the words on the screen are barely legible as he spends an embarrassing amount of time trying to find his contacts. he thinks about calling yuuji, but he knows he’s usually asleep by this time and keeps his phone on do not disturb at night. he scrolls to kugisaki and calls her instead. the phone rings for a bit, before he hears her groggy voice on the line. “hello..?” 

“can you pick me up?” megumi barely pieces his sentence together “oh my god megumi, it’s 3AM! you shouldve left earlier. i’m going to bed, i have a class in the morning.” 

“please, kugisaki. i can’t drive…” megumis words slur a bit “holy shit, you actually drank?? oh my god this isn’t what i meant when i told you to have some fun.”

“just pick me up. ill make it up to you.” megumi pleads over the phone, a desperate tone coming from his voice that she wasn't used to hearing even after knowing him for so many years

“yeah, whatever. where are you? actually, don’t fucking bother, you sound too wasted to figure that out. just send me your location.” megumi can hear his friend's bed sheets ruffling as she gets out of bed, which begins to fill him with a bit of guilt, even if she was the one who suggested he go to the party in the first place. eventually he figures out how to send kugisaki his location, patiently waiting for it to go through. “okay, i got it. ill be there soon, idiot.” she hangs up before he can say anything back. 

megumi sits back on the hard bench, rethinking his night at the party. he wasn’t even hung over yet but he already regretted all of it. he had hoped that the music and the people and the alcohol would distract him, take his thoughts away from the past and finally live in the present but they only made him miss you more. if you were still with him he’d be in your room, laying in your bed napping whilst you studied for your next exam. the music wouldn’t be blasting in his ears and causing him a headache and instead would be soft lofi playing quietly from your speaker, which helped you study and helped him sleep. he wouldn’t have to try and imagine the girl he was talking to was you, it would’ve been you.

 without thinking, megumi takes out his phone, opening up a locked folder. his face id unlocks the folder that held pictures and videos of you. he’s gone through everything multiple times and he wishes he could still take more and add them to his collection. he wishes you would still take pictures of your outfits and send them to him. he wishes his wallpaper was still his favourite picture of you.

tears begin to well in his eyes as he turns off his phone and stuffs it in his pocket, he can’t bring himself to look through that folder again. not in his current state. you’re already gone, he knows that, he’s been told that, you told him that. he knows he needs to move on and continue his life without you but you’ve been the only thing on his mind for months and the alcohol in his system certainly wasn’t helping. 

megumi wipes his tears as he hears the car in front of him beep. pushing himself off the bench, he limps his way over to his friend’s car and gets in the back seat. 

“jesus, i thought you didn’t like drinking.” usually his friend would laugh at him for things like this but this time her tone and the look on her face was more serious. “whatever.” 

the car ride was abnormally silent and the odd tension in the air was prevalent. kugisaki dropped him off in front of the dorms, his roommate already waiting for him outside. “thanks.” is all megumi can say to his friend as he walks away from her car. 

“you alright, megumi? did something happen while you were there?” yuuji takes a good look at his best friend. he knows it’s been rough since the break up, he’s seen all of it. he’s done what he can to help keep his mind off it, to help his friend move past it but clearly it’s all still there. he feels guilty for sending megumi to this party now. kugisaki suggested it but he was the one who really convinced him it’d be a good idea, but he should’ve thought it through a bit more. yuuji can see the puffiness of his eyes and it breaks his heart to see his normally stoic friend in such a state. he’s really tried everything to help but at this point he can’t do much anymore. “it’s okay man, forget about it.” he throws an arm around his friend to keep him stable, taking him back to their shared dorm. yuuji spends the night trying to distract his friend, getting him to sober up and eventually fall asleep. 

sunlight spilling from the blinds shines on megumis face, waking him up. the moment he opens his eyes he’s met with painful pounding in his head. still, he manages to sit up, his headache getting worst every moment hes conscious. he makes his way to the living room, where his friend is already sitting on the couch. “hey.” he barely mumbles out before plopping himself on the other side of the couch. “you hungry?” his roommate waved back at him. 

“no.” megumi gets himself comfortable on the couch, trying to distract from the overwhelming throbbing he’s feeling. suddenly his phone buzzes on the coffee table, where he apparently left it last night. picking it up, he had a slightly abnormal amount of notifications from kugisaki, both texts and calls. 

[ 4 missed calls from kugisaki ]

[ kugisaki: did you text y/n? ] 

[ kugisaki: megumi answer my call oml ]  

his heart drops as he opens his phone and goes to messages, and there he sees it. three messages he had sent last night, all of which he doesn’t even recall. “sorry…” yuuji looks over at his roommate, seeing the colour from his face leave as he looks at the messages he had sent. “i tried to stop you but you were gonna beat the shit outta me when i took your phone...” 

“it’s fine.. sorry.” megumi didn’t even want to read the messages he sent. he can see them, he can see that they went through, he can see that you haven’t read them, and he doesn’t want to read them either. he decides to turn off his phone and put it down, judging by kugisaki’s messages, you had already seen the messages and told her about them, just never actually opened them. ‘fuck.’ 

“hey, why don’t we just go out somewhere? To help you forget about it. let’s go watch a movie!” normally megumi isn’t the most excited about leaving his home and heading out. he prefers staying in his room, lounging on the couch or getting a good workout in at the gym, but today he feels more than ever that he needs to spend some time doing something else, distract himself from his sad, dull life. go out and have some actual fun, especially with his best friend. “sure,”

“I told you it’d be a good movie!” yuuji pokes at his friend’s arm. 

“It was about an earthworm.” megumi playfully rolls his eyes as the two of them walk out of the theater. “It was more than that! Did you even watch the movie!?” the two of them continue to argue about the quality of the movie they had just seen on their way to the parking lot. megumi takes his phone out of his pocket to check his notifications and his heart drops for a second time that day. a name that hasn’t appeared on his lock screen in months, the name he’d been waiting to see there for so long. it was the only one in his contacts to have any sort of emoji or decoration to it, and he never changed it despite everything. 

[ you: i mess you sofucjng much ] 

[ you: pls so im sorry for everything ] 

[ you: pleese baby pls talk to me ]

- Unread message  -

[ y/n <3: come over, we’ll talk about it ] 

megumi stares at the notification. it felt as if his heart skipped several beats. he opens the message and continues to stare. his fingers move on their own as he types a response and he doesn’t even think about it before hitting send. 

[ you: on my way ]

omg can u guys tell im not good at coming up with endings :sob:

[thehighladywrites]

What's set as your phone's lockscreen?

Cheese or chocolate?

Do you have any nicknames?

Last song you listened to?

Have you ever written fanfiction?

Are you on discord?

Do you have any piercings?

 What do you think says the most about a person?

If you were a cookie, what kind would you be?

Are you more of a dog person or a cat person?

Headphones or earbuds?

What's the last thing you said out loud?

What's a weird fact that you know?

Are you a morning person or a night owl?

Favorite place to nap?

Are you a member of the LGBTQIA+ community?

Describe yourself in three words.

Jeans or sweatpants?

What's your go-to Starbucks order?

A color you can't stand?

What's your most prized possession?

Coffee or tea?

Favorite extinct animal?

How long have you been on tumblr?

Desert island item?

Describe your aesthetic.

What's your dream job?

Relationship status?

Describe your favorite outfit.

Is there a song you know all the lyrics to?

What color is your hair?

Do you talk to yourself?

Do you wear makeup?

Best compliment you ever received?

@ your favorite blog.

ohhh anon ngl this was super fun to answer, thanks for sending it to me 💜

I have a light pink basic wallpaper, nothing fancy

Chocolate, always

My friends and siblings call me Ama, amara or mara, i’m also called aisha, which is my middle name💗

Teacher’s pet bc i’m trying to get into the mood when writing professor Eris pt 3💀🤤

Yess, this is the blog I write fanfics on!!

Nope!!

I have my nips pierced, I have three piercings in each ear and a nose stud. Bro when I tell you I almost passed tf out?? I hate needles but like i love to look cunty🤷🏽‍♀️

I honestly don’t know, maybe my kindness? I’m empathetic and very emotional. The thought of making someone sad or making them feel bad makes me feel physically ill.

An oreo, basic but delicious

Cat person for sureeee, i think dogs are cute but i prefer kitties

Headphones for sure, I never leave my house without them. I really recommend them too, they’re called skullcandy hesh evo and have amazing noise cancellation

I said fuck out loud

Did you know that goats have accents? Yeah, a goat from europe won’t understand a goat from asia. My grandmother owns goats and she let me know. At first I thought she was fucking with me but it’s true.

A night owl through and through, I sleep during the days and im awake during the nights

My bed for sure, it’s so comfortable bc i have the softest blankets and a massive comforter. My mattress is super plushy and it feels like sleeping on a cloud.

I think i’m bi with a preference for women

funny as fuck, introverted, anxious

Sweatpants at home, jeans outside

I don’t drink starbucks

obnoxiously bright and strong colors

Neither, I like super sweet drinks, but gun to my head the probs coffee.

Dinosaurs, love those lil fuckers

I’ve had this blog for almost 3 months but I had my old account for about 1 year.

If i could bring one item to a deserted island, i’d bring a sharp knife.

I think hyperfeminine and dark academia. My room is super cute in my opinion and it’s a mix between pink and dark colors. My outfit inspos are rachel green, monica geller and jasmine tookes.

My dream job is being a housewife and i’m so serious. I’m not made to sit in an office or work long hours. I just wanna stay at home, bake, look cute, make a house into a home and just exist. Is it really that hard 😩

I’m happily married to my hot wife @rowaelinsdaughter i love her SO MUCH🫶🏽

My fav outfit that I repeat is this one huge white sweater paired with my black pants, I pair it with black boots and a black long coat with a scarf from acne studios

anything chase atlantic, the nbhd, ldr, melanie martinez, burna boy ik the lyrics to hella songs but by fav is probably show me how by men i trust or art deco by ldr

My hair is black, jet black

yes, I talk to myself all the time…

Yes, I wear make up all the time I love it!!

That I have a nice vibe and energy. And I was once told by my sister that i’m the one she calls first for everything bc i’m the one she wants hearing good news first. She said she trusts me the most and i nearly cried😭😭😭

Here are my fav blogs -> !!!!

[technically-uh]

..to one fine day.

-a BTS fanfic <3

Summary: Jin, Yoongi, Hoseok (Hobi), Namjoon, Jimin, Taehyung(V) and Jungkook, former best friends, reuinte after over a decade and reignite their friendships, and rediscover what it is to be happy (and other life secrets).

Word Count: 2000 (aPPROx, i do not know the precise word count lol)

Triggers: Mentions of drinking, mild depressive thoughts.

Genre: Fluff (for now).

So, here it goes.

I have several memories of our little reunion. All the pictures we took; some of them hanging on the wall of Jin's local favorite bar as we got drunk and killed at their karaoke. I've got videos of it stored in my phone, and in my camera. I've got polaroid shots. I've got Jimin's shoes and V's cute little cat doll he gave me as a souvenir. I've got Yoongi's wine bottle kept safely in the fridge, untouched for a long time. I have Hoseok's umbrella that I took while leaving because it was raining cats and dogs. Speaking of cats and dogs, I still have Jungkook's pink cat ears he wore when he was drunk. I have a video and all of Jungkook grinning like mad and purring softly and us going ballistic at his sheer cuteness. I have my memory of the night safely stored in a slot in my brain where it can never be erased.

But I wanted to preserve this memory somewhere special. Somewhere intimate. I wanted that day (and night) to be kept safe, untainted by anything I'm going through or will ever go through. I wanted to freeze that day and keep it that way for thousands and thousands of years. And what better way is there to do this than to write it all down in my beloved diary, which I haven't touched since I bought it?

October 24, 20xx

We all met at V's house. V and Jimin lived together. The twins always did everything together, even though they didn't always want to. Jimin apparently couldn't afford an apartment and Taehyung could afford a two storey house, so I guess it made sense.

I was the third or fourth one who arrived there. It was raining already; little showers pouring here and there. I ran to the house covering my head with my hand and didn't notice Jin when he smacked me on my back as I ran in. "Namjoon has forgotten us!" exclaimed Jin dramatically, holding his hand to his chest. "I did not expect this from you." he said, pretending to be hurt.

"Everyone forgets you," deadpanned Yoongi as he stood at the entrance, hands in his pockets. Min Yoongi was the sarcastic one. The cold one. His heart was softer than those cheesecakes he made but he pretended otherwise.

Jin rolled his eyes at Yoongi as he held my back and pulled me into a hug. He then dragged me through the entrance lobby, bright yellow with golden lights and floor covered with a deep, red rug. It also had a solitary stool with a black, old-fashioned telephone on it that Jimin couldn't have bothered to own.

I have to admit, I was nervous to go there. To meet all of them again, after all these years. We were incredibly close at one point in school, but we all were of different ages and branched off in different paths at one point. We gradually lost touch and haven't seen each other in almost ten years. I was nervous about meeting them all over again. Life when they were around was so good. So pristine. I didn't want to ruin its pure goodness, in case something went wrong.

Halfway through the lobby on the right was the living room. And my jaw dropped.

It was a large, circular room with pretty, pastel-pink wallpapers with white stripes and a high ceiling. It was as large as my apartment. The hall had a big window on the left and cupboards, bookshelves and a T.V. on the right, and little tables with flower vases and vintage cassete players on them. There were two huge grey and white couches sticking to each other and facing the opposite sides, forming a T-shape. Sprawled on one of them was Jungkook. He beamed and grinned at me as I entered. There was also a huge, wooden staircase directly opposite to me which led to the upper floor.

I have to say, when i first saw Jungkook hugging Hobi's legs, shy and fearfully looking at us for the first time, I did not expect him to become the jacked, tatted, aesthetic man with a lip ring who was sitting in front of me that day.

Yoongi sat next to him and ruffled his hair. They both were wearing the same black T-Shirt with the grey sweatpants. They'd probably co-ordinated their outfits for the day.

Down came V, running, as he looked exactly opposite to what his house looked like. He was wearing a oversized caramel hoodie with black pants. He hopped down the creaky stairs straight into my arms.

I sat next to Jungkook and grinned as I looked around the house. "Wow," I said, raising one eyebrow.

"This is literally my job," said V, flailing his arms around.

"I didn't say anything," I said, still grinning.

We were all talking and catching up, V and Jin now sitting on the floor (with a circular green rug, I have no idea how they clean all of these things) when the door bell rang. Bright, white sunlight was streaming in through the window when Jimin entered, grinning. With his rainbow-coloured hair, circular specs and tie-die shirt, Jimin looked like the antithesis of V. He had a rings on almost every finger and wore Nike Air Jordans (knock-offs). He was wearing a pair of circular white Ray-Bans, and also had a mullet and a dazzling smile as he squeezed me into a hug. "I thought unicorns didn't exist," I said, as I hugged him back. "Apparently they do," he replied, grinning and bowing down, doing a flourish with his hands.

"Nah, you're not a unicorn," I replied. "Unicorns are definitely taller."

He widened his eyes in surprise but quickly recovered and smacked me as he said, "Not everyone can grow as tall as the Namsan towers like you." Then he elegantly flew in the air and ruffled Jungkook's hair, patted Yoongi's head ("Atleast you're still shorter than me," said Jimin) and started smacking Jin. Jimin was still a kid. He was somehow definitely the most grown-up yet the most childish person in our group. Maturity was completely out of the question.

Then came the second unicorn of our group. He didn't have to look like a unicorn to be one. Smiling and hopping, Hobi waltzed into the hall, screaming, as he attacked his nearest target (Yoongi) with a hug and moved on to everyone else. He was almost in tears when he said, "It's so good to meet you guys. It's been so long!"

We all practically shoved Yoongi, the Michelin-star chef, andJin into the kitchen. Jungkook went along with them because he was 'interested in cooking'. Jungkook was multi-talented; he basically aced everything he did. We were all very proud of him. V would show them around the kitchen and stand guard incase me, Jimin and/or Hobi decided to enter (he didn't want his kitchen on fire.)

Jimin, Hobi and I stayed outside. Hobi had just come from a major shooting and wanted to rest for awhile. He's a celebrity choreographer who works in.. any form of media that involves dancing. He is a big shot in the K-pop and K-drama industries, and is frequently called by Hollywood to do dance sequences. You get it, he is terribly famous. Everyone may not know him, but they know his name. And what he does.

He'd always been busy, and had to travel across the city to meet us, so lunch was a bit late; approximately by.. 3 o'clock in the afternoon. We'd all arrived at 11, and Hobi had arrived at 11. 30. Jungkook's stomach then growled, and we all remembered the existence of something called lunch. The four of them set off to making it straight away.

Jimin smiled at me as he led us away from the kitchen. He'd taken off his glasses, and without them he looked.. soft. Familiar. His eyes were dreamy and bright. Calm. J-Hope walked behind us as we approached the living room when Jimin stopped. "Wait, did Taehyung show you guys around the house?" he asked. "Come on then!" he chittered to our response. He led us further down the entrance lobby, away from the kitchen, to two rooms: one an office room ("We don't even work at home") and one full of artworks made by V. It contained stuff from the little doodles he made to the intricate paintings and wood carvings. From the clay worms to the deeply contemplative statues of his. It was his work alone.

He then took us to the upper levels with more rooms. One of them was a mini library, a big circular room with shelves of books on the walls and long reading tables. A low, handless couch dominated the centre of the room. There were big floor-to-ceiling windows on both sides of the wall, letting in bright light. There was also a play station, because of course there was.

Jimin then took us to the other rooms. They were all very large. V's room was very modern and elegant with a giant, white bed and a huge closet that looked like it was from a 1950's movie with nothing but black and white outfits, with the occasional color thrown in. The bathroom itself was almost as large as my master bedroom.

Me and Hobi jumped on the white, king-sized bed (in our socks) after Jimin regretfully declined to join us because "Taehyung will kill me." We all then flopped onto the bed for a while and engaged in some pillow-fighting. Jimin, the martial artist and law enforcer won in every single fight.

Jimin then showed us around his room. It had a cupboard, a water bed, a bean bag and a nightstand beside the bed. It was as large as V's closet. We again flopped on the water bed and rolled around, pushing each other off the bed and messing around with Jimin's voice assistant devices.

Overall, we were having a pretty good time when they called us for lunch.

__________________________________________________________

part 1/?

~Written as Namjoon.

✨️✨️✨️

Thank you for reading this! Hope you liked it :D

[and this is definitely NOT my attempt to wiggle out of actually studying for my math exam TOMORROW lol]

please give credits if you'd like to use/ reblog/repost both the fic and the pic! [aah i can't believe i made the edit asjkdksfkj it looks so aesthetic!!]

[cthonicascendant]

Just fucking all of them

vvell if you in5i5t

Fuzzy socks - What is something that made you smile today? vve got to meet tvvo of our tumblr friend5 in per5on vvhich vva5 technically la5t night but 5ince it happened on the 11th an im 5tartin to an5vver thi5 on the 11th im callin it today Soft blanket - Did you drink and eat enough today? maybe not 5ure Strawberry milk - What is your favorite (hot) beverage? black coffee not that i eVer get to drink it no more thank5 to mir Cupcake - Do you have a comfort food? If so, what is it? uh chocolate i gue55 i alvvay5 vvant chocolate vvhen im 5ad Teddy bear - Do you own any plushies? Please tell me about them! i only ovvn a manta ray plu5h it5 about the 5ize of a dinner plate an dark blue rainbovvy fabric Tulip - What is your favorite flower? one a them i5 dandelion5 Bunny - When was the last time you saw a wild animal and what was it? 5ome kind a bird out in the parkin lot here earlier Fluffy cloud - Do you think clouds are made of cotton candy? im too auti5tic for thi5 all i can think i5 they are literally vvater Vapor Warm milk - What is something that makes you feel comfortable? haVin 5omethin around my neck Angel - What was your last dream about? it vva5 i dont knovv i had the Vague impre55ion a bein at vvork but that dont make 5en5e becau5e that vvould be a nightmare an i mo5tly vvoke up thinkin that it vva5 a vveird dream Vanilla - What is your favorite scent? campfire 5moke Biscuit - Do you like to cook / to bake? no not really crovv i5 the baker Kitty paw - Do you have any pets? not at the moment Sprinkle - How old are you? (if you are comfortable sharing) fifteen 5vveep5 Pillow - What are five (or more) things that make you happy? bein in bed gettin attention uh vveed uh chocolate uhhh 5pendin time vvith friend5 vvait that5 ju5t gettin attention Puppy - What is something that you like about yourself? eVerythin vvhat5 there to not like

Pastel - What is your favorite color? Violet an teal Slipper - What is your favorite clothes? current faVorite outfit i5 thi5 turtleneck vve got vvith me5h 5leeVe5 an a royal blue an neon green plaid 5kirt got to be vvorn vvith boot5 an 5ome kind a bright legging5 la5t time i vvore it i vvent vvith the glittery 5tar print tight5 Cat nose - What color does your phone-case have? it5 a gradient from neon green through yellovv orange an then finally pink Soft fur - How are you feeling right now? Vaguely entertained Chocolate milk - If you are comfortable with it, share your phone’s wallpaper im goin to pa55 on thi5 one becau5e i think my notification5 vvould giVe eVeryone el5e anxiety /lighthearted actually im 5kippin becau5e im doin thi5 on my computer an dont feel like figurin out hovv to get a 5creen5hot in here vvithout fuckin up the formattin Animal Crossing - What is the last video game you played? pokemon cry5tal Sugar - How many siblings do you have? tvvo Popcorn - Do you prefer movies or shows? moVie5 Blush - What is your favorite season and why? fall it5 nice an cool an the leaVe5 are pretty Sparkle - What are some of your wishes? not feelin like an5vverin thi5 one 5orry Love - Are you in a relationship? all in 5y5 at the moment but yeah Pajamas - Are you an early bird or do you rather sleep in? vvere nocturnal Cream puff - What was the last thing you ate and did you like it? it vva5 a burger from vvendy5 an it vva5 alright Meow - Share a random fact about yourself, please ok you knovv thi5 i5 really long did you really haVe to 5ay all of them im tired here uhhhh the only thing i cant do left handed i5 vvrite neatly Warmth - Do you like to cuddle? once i get to knovv you ye5 Cozy - How many pillows do you have in your bed? like four or fiVe Glitter - What color are your eyes? MY eye5 are Purple like in my icon the body ha5 a different eye color obViou5ly Cinnamon - What are some about your hobbies? obViou5ly dravvin i al5o do a bit a paintin on the 5ide an knittin an im 5till tryin to learn diVination vvith card5 Unicorn - Do you believe in magic? i think it5 fake but vvhateVer im not goin to go policin vvhat other people do Butterfly - If you could live anywhere you like, what would you choose? i vvould vvant a nice hou5e near a city or eVen better like the entire floor of a buildin in the city dont knovv exactly vvhich one yet Princess - Do you prefer to wear skirts, dresses or pants? 5kirt5 not that i get to much Bonbon - Do you rather like sweet or salty snacks? 5alty

[insectsinsects]

The watercolor rothkos are actually so stunning; I went in because it was cold but also because last time I was at the National Gallery, I'd explored the eastern wing just before they completed this one. They had had his big famous ones, though.

You can only enter through a single point because it's meant to be explored chronologically. We begin in the 30s when he was in the Pacific Northwest painting gorgeous scenes of forest and beaches and little towns. He's always had an eye for color. A shed could peek out of the foliage and it was always pleasing to the eye. Just a masterful, finite set of strokes that make me think about the act of creation (I feel the same about the long, dismal process of pointillism and the ache it transmits to my own hand). Then he goes on to make these suuper epic cool religious pieces (OMEN...!). I was just in awe. I had no idea about his experimentation with watercolor. He'd do a basic wash, then strip away some parts by scraping the water off and then he'd inscribe lines with a ballpoint pen?? The results were so cool. The way he did human figure has always been unconventional— I think only one piece had a generally discernible face, and it was in that very first room. In this one, they were tall and uncanny and had lines for limbs and were stuck in their gorgeous, barren universes. Soooo cool. I am looking for high definition images of it because I think it'd be a cool phone wallpaper.

And THEN you get to the things that he's known for. Those drenched canvases with the colorful rectangles in them. Mirrors in mirrors. I found his method so interesting (?), he'd do a lot of them in OIL but on WATERCOLOR PAPER and then he'd nail it to a wooden board. It resulted in extremely vibrant colors and it let him lob on loads of colors to where seemingly black portals were actually ultra-deep blues and purples upon closer inspection. I went in without my glasses so I was ultra weary of the docents just hanging out 😭 I didn't mean to get my whole nose into it (I was never yelled at!). God just a gorgeous set of paintings. They also had a few unveiled pieces next to his HUGE easel, which was awesome. Also a lot of pieces still had masking tape on them!!!! Which was strangely comforting. He was commissioned like all the time in his prime, there were uncharacteristically bright pieces strewn about, and then we arrive at the Untitleds from the late 60s.

These are what I know him for— oft referred to in frivolous internet spaces with morbid fascination: these are among the last things he painted before he killed himself. They are those gray landscapes and the nebulous deep brown skies. A visual for hopelessness. A view from the moon? The very last room had more vibrant pieces and commissions: the blues looked like sea and sky, white partitions for seafoam, vibrant pink squares too. Like the beginning. The last placard in the gallery made me tear up— 1933's Bathers at the Beach behind a looming dune (apprehension or closeness? the gallery asks), compared to the 1969 Untitled (was this an omen? they ask again). And the human condition stuff and the anxiety and my desire for connection just got to me, I guess.

Like the beginning...

[wallmouse]

Guildies: Chapter One - Rough Draft #1

Whirring.

Whirring.

Whirring.

Simon stared at the leftover chicken tenders he got from the fridge of the Limbo House, the House of Doors, the House with layers and layers of paintings serving as the wallpaper. And the fridge. And all the kitchen cabinets in the second-floor kitchen Simon currently stood in. He marveled at the bright sunflowers painted around the microwave as if its electromagnetic waves were from the sun itself.

Ding!

Simon extracted the plate from the microwave and squeezed some ketchup near the chickens. The breaded bits were a bit soggy, but he could make do; Simon had been eating nothing but takeout and leftovers since his arrival in Sutton, Michigan. He stared at a wood decoration painted to match what he assumed was a night sky in the Upper Peninsula, with the addition of northern lights and the trees that surrounded the town. He checked his phone; It was 3:43 in the afternoon, 13 minutes after when Ioanna “Io” Gamal, the manager of the house usually came in to check on the workers. 

Shrugging, Simon carried his plate to the couch next to the kitchen. He admired the view from the nearby window, the woods and flat land a contrast to the skyscrapers and cities he was used to and sat down next to all the bound and gagged employees. He adjusted his sword on the table to make room for the plate. He dipped a tender in ketchup and chewed. He turned towards one of the employees he had tied up, “Y’know, if you get out of this alive, you should invest in some barbeque sauce, as well as updating this place’s outdated security system. This place’s collection of condiments is atrocious.” The employee, being gagged, did not respond. Simon believed the employee’s name was Winter, and he had captured him in the house’s connected greenhouse. “Anyway, do you guys know where your boss is? Because I’ve been watching you guys for a week or so and she usually comes in around now.”

Once again, no one responded because they were all gagged. Technically, two out of the five of them were unconscious. Cyrene the Witch was ambushed when she had entered the house, her moving tattoos now motionless. Alex the Spiderling, who was the maintenance man and knew all the house’s dangerous secrets, almost looked like he was sleeping. They were too dangerous to be left conscious. Winter, Taya, who Simon had captured in the library, and Nagosta, who Simon physically pulled out from the vents, as far as he could tell, were nonmagical. And so, they were the awake ones, all arranged like they and Simon were friends on the couch, opposed to the rest who were slumped in the corner, eyes closed. 

“Don’t look at me like that, I didn’t follow you guys home or anything. That would be extra work, and no offense, but you guys seem very boring.” At least, that was what Simon thought from his glimpses into the Limbo House whenever he wasn’t busy listening to his playlist over and over. He leaned back and looked at the clock. It was still ticking, and Io was still not showing. He looked back at his unwilling companions. Taya had a red rash spreading across her face like a forest fire. Dear gods he hoped it wasn’t contagious.

“Plus, that would be such a violation of privacy. And I’m not a stalker or anything, I’m just doing a job assigned to me with some creativity. Although a friend of mine back in college had a stalker and oh boy, his demeanor really changed after that. Whenever we went to a restaurant, he always had to sit facing the doors. Eventually, I took care of that stalker. And by ‘took care of’, I mean killed. On my free time too! No charge whatsoever! If my family found out they’d be pissed!” Simon tugged the fur collar of his Mercenary Guild uniform, all black and tailored. Wearing it was hot in the Michigan summer, but Simon liked the way it made him look intimidating. With his natural face on, he was told he looked like a ‘goofish fop’, whatever that meant. His androgynous appearance and long, wavy hair was great at making him look eye-catching, but not scary. “I sometimes wonder what would have happened if my family did find out. I mean, maybe they did, I left them a long time ago and never came—”

The door leading to the hallway swung open and Io walked in. Her red coat swooshed around her ankles and her scales glinted gold in the sunlight, against her dark skin. She carried a coffee cup, which she then dropped at the sight of the rest of her employees.

Simon leapt into action. In a single movement he had dropped his chicken tender, grabbed the closer Taya, stood up, and held his sword against her throat, facing Io. He didn’t press hard enough to draw blood, but close. Taya’s rash bloomed even harder on her skin. Simon could feel her skin’s texture change even through his gloves. He gripped Taya and held her out to Io, daring the scaly manager to respond.

He looked at Io’s eyes, wide with panic. Her eyes landed on Simon’s uniform, and she spoke in near-perfect Runic. “The Limbo House humbly welcomes emissaries from the Mercenary Guild, who must have come a long way from Karnsa—”

“Drop the formalities. And the language, I’m from San Francisco.” Simon cut in, in English. Io’s Runic was far more fluent and natural than Simon’s, even though he was the one who lived in Karnsa for some years. “I’m here to negotiate.”

Simon focused his attention on Io and spotted her black bookbag. As far as he knew, Io wasn’t a Witch, but she did spend time deciphering an ancient language in a thick book, a language which granted great power. He kept watch for any instance of Io’s hands twitching for the bag. But all Io did was say, “go ahead,” and make some desperate eyes at the people bound and gagged.

“Yes, I am from the Guild. I was sent here to watch over your house and report on all its cool stuff, weird stuff, fun stuff, stuff people can’t know from hacking into your computer systems, stuff like that. My time reporting on you guys is meant to last a month, but you are going to help me make it last a year.”

“My terms are this: You share your house’s secrets with me. I write my report in a way that makes it clear I’m discovering a lot, but there’s lots of other stuff to be discovered too. And then he people I report to will extend my time here. Like,” he gestured at Nagosta, “she—”

“They.” Io spoke and looked surprised at herself.

“Oh,” Simon looked at Nagosta, who had been looking irate since the whole incident began. “Sorry, they can give me like, the locations of a secret door inside an air vent or something, and how it’s useful in a military sense, stuff like that.”

Simon raised his arm and leaned back to gesture at the window, keeping a tight press on Taya with the other one. “That way, I can get an extended vacation here. Where there’s nothing but trees and a declining population and weird bugs that seem to be watching you all the time—"

A dart of shining black shot toward Simon from somewhere out of his point of view. He ducked and tilted his sword to deflect it. In between the shifting of his arms, Taya wriggled out of his grid. She shoved her shoulder into him and made him stumble. Simon regained his footing and was about to lung at Taya when he heard Io’s voice.

“BIND.”

Simon’s body went ramrod stiff. He was thrown back into a wall. He could wriggle but couldn’t move. Black ropes had appeared from nowhere and dug into his body and gagged him. From his position on the floor, he saw the black dart melt into ink, which retreated and was reabsorbed back into Cyrene’s tattoos. A very awake Cyrene’s tattoos. Despite also being tied up, she glared at Simon with extreme malice, as if he had killed her coworkers instead of incapacitated them.

Simon cursed at himself for being sloppy with the knockouts. This incident really showed how his skills had decayed since his last job. He thought he had applied the right amount of pressure to keep Cyrene down for at least half a day or so. With no permanent damage, of course. Permanent damage could mess up the negotiations he had hoped to have. Simon watched Io, blood spilling out of her mouth, undo everyone else’s bindings. She kept a slit eye out on him. Not that he could do anything, these bindings were tight. He looked around. Io’s bookbag was open, and there was the edge of a book inside. She must have put is back in after she used it. Simon stretched to look at it more.

His stretching was interrupted by Cyrene’s voice. “Let’s kill him. Or ransom him to the Guild. He can’t do what he did without any consequences.” Simon looked back at her and saw Cyrene and Io in a heated conversation. 

“And risk the Guild targeting us? Look at him, the Guild has sent him to Earth. Earth! This is clearly a high priority mission for them, and this man a high priority player.”

Upon hearing that, Simon suppressed a snort. He wished he was as important as that.  Given what he had done for the Guild regarding his former friends, he really should be. He had proven himself a total Guild ass-kisser, yet, he was still an assassin grunt, just with some extra shiny medals to his name, and a wreckage of his social circle and relationship with his bosses and their bosses. So, Simon had found it a wise choice to disappear from Karnsa radar until the many people who wanted to kill or make a plaything of him lost all memory of him. A wise choice that hinged on Cyrene and Io’s conversation. 

            “And besides, even if he weren’t important, he’s willing to negotiate. What if we get rid of him, and his replacement’s even worse?” Io argued with Cyrene.

            “Can we at least extort money from him? He’s a fucking Guildy, his weekly salary could pay our monthly utilities. Just look at his uniform!” Cyrene shot back.

            “How about we talk more where he can’t hear us?” Taya said. She had gotten up and was staring at the inflamed skin on her wrists with great concern. 

            “You’re right, everyone, meet up in my office. We’ll discuss this and decide soon.” Io gestured at Alex, who had woken up, and Simon. 

            Alex walked up to Simon. “It’s nothing personal man,” he said. Simon stared in annoyance at Alex’s eyes, which looked like eight black tapioca pearls shoved into two eye sockets, each moving independently of each other.  Alex proceeded to lift him up and walked over to yet another painted wall. He pressed Simon to it, and Simon felt the odd sensation of parts of his body turning into paint and fusing with the wall. It felt oddly goopy. Alex kept pressing until only Simon’s head, hands, which were spread far apart, and a bit of a knee stuck out of the wall. The process was painless, but Simon was trapped. 

            Well okay, he had no idea this house could do something like this. Although some members did travel suspiciously fast in his observations. He had searched them for magic items when he tied everyone up, but only found some gimmicky pens. Turns out this house was the magic item all along. And he thought the paintings were just for show. Dang, he really was rusty.

Feelings of failure and a mild panic that he’ll be stuck as an art installation forever bubbled up in Simon, but he swallowed them down. He shot a mildly inconvenienced look first at Alex, and then to Io. None seemed to have noticed. Alex nodded at Io, “okay, he’s good and stuck now.”

Io nodded back and smiled. What was left of the black bindings on Simon vanished. Io visibly relaxed, as if a great tension had been released from her. “Now, does anyone care about what decision we’ll make about this man?’

“People call me Simon.”

“About Simon?” Io repeated. “Because we need someone to watch over him.”

A hand shot up. It was Nagosta’s. “Yeah, I can do it. I don’t really care about what happens to him.”

“Alright,” Io said, “thank you.” Io gathered the rest of the workers, and they all headed to her office. Winter closed the door behind them. Nagosta planted herself on a couch next to Simon and got out their phone. From Simon’s vantage point, it looked like they were playing games on it. 

They even helped themselves to Simon’s chicken tenders. 

What followed was one of the most boring spans of time in Simon’s life. Feel anxious about getting sent back to the frying pan that was Karnsa. Watch the walls. Watch Nagosta stare at him for a bit, and then go back to their phone game. Watch the walls. Want to scratch his nose but can’t because his arms are paint. Watch the walls and wonder if there really were that many hidden eyes in the paintings, or if his brain was playing tricks on him from watching the walls so much.       

After an amount of time that required Nagosta to plug in their phone to a charger and then unplug it a while later, the group came back. Simon peered up at them, “you guys should really invest in a wall clock, time kinda melted for me back here.”

“We were going to; we just keep putting it off.” Nagosta shot back, eyes still on their phone.

“Tentatively, we accept your offer with some caveats.” Io said, face smoothed from her previous fear and worry. “We’ll share some of the Limbo House’s blueprints and secrets, but not all of them. The House is also used by many clients, and we will keep their and their things’s confidentiality as well. You will only be able to use the public spaces in your reports.” 

Simon nodded to show he was listening. He wanted more things to be available, but he supposed he could simply embellish the spaces he got some more. All it was going to take was some work. Disgusting.  

“And we’ll get to read your reports and alter or omit details on appropriate ways. We’ll control what gets given to the Guild, not you. Is that fair so far?” Io continued.

Simon nodded. The wall pressed against his neck. For that concession, all he had to do was hope he didn’t get fact checked by the Guild. And find someone to scapegoat when they question him.

“Good. That was what we’ll do for you. Here, is what you’ll do for us.”

Oh boy, Simon thought, this is where he’d have to start selling organs.

“You may think this town of Sutton is a prime vacation spot, but it’s not. Like all small towns, we have ghosts, curses, and urban legends. And some of them are dangerous. As you can see,” Io gestured to the sparse workforce around them, “we’re a bit understaffed now. Thanks to your previous show of force, we think you’ll be good help to us whenever we need your combat prowess.”

“Combat prowess, he took us all by surprise!” Cyrene butted in, ink swirling on her arms. All Simon could do was roll his eyes. Technically, she took him by surprise too.

“And, since I bet your precious Guild is interested in this house being intact, whenever we need repairs, you’ll chip in an amount proportional to what everyone else pays. Also, you may not harm any of us, the people of Sutton included, during your stay here. We can discuss the details later, but these are our basic demands. Do we have a deal?”

Being part of the wall was getting uncomfortable, so Simon said, “sure.” He waved his hand in a manner he hoped indicated he wanted Io to shake it. Would they be writing and signing a contract together later?

“Good. Because you’re part of the Guild, let’s consider this agreement a Varar. I, Ioanna Gamal, swear it.” The moment Io said those words with her perfect pronunciation, Simon felt a string of power between his hand, and hers. A Varar was a sacred deal commonly used among the scions of Yggdrasil, home of Karnsa and by extension, the Mercenary Guild. Both parties must agree and if one broke it, bad fortune will befall upon them. It’s not something to be sworn lightly. Simon stared into Io’s solemn face. She wasn’t being foolish about this; Simon guessed her motivations as wanting immediate protection for the house and townspeople; Io did not act rashly based on what he knew about her. 

Io outstretched her hand toward Simon’s and stopped before she could brush her fingertips. They could not shake hands unless Simon also swore the Varar, a verbal signature on a metaphorical contract. He had agreed to the terms fine, but for the monotony of getting stuck in a painting, he wanted to stretch out the tension for everyone else. 

Simon stared at Io. Io stared back. Io’s hand was close enough that he could grasp it. Simon saw tiny droplets of sweat begin to bead down Io’s forehead. How does that work, with all the scaled sections on her skin? He didn’t bother hiding to Io that his eyes were on the sweat on her face instead of his eyes or hands. 

His eyes fell on the other workers. Some looked nervous. Nagosta was still on her phone. Cyrene looked like she wanted to rip his head off. Taya was eyeing his sword, which was taken away from him and set on the table. Alright, Simon figured he waited long enough. He looked into Io’s eyes and opened his mouth, “I, Simon Kuai, swear this Varar.”

He shook Io’s hand. With a stretching smile, he said, “you got yourself a deal.”

[erodasfishtacos]

Not Your Charity Case

prompt: Harry is a frat boy - who doesn’t need sympathy from anyone. He makes Y/N feel a sense of home when they’re together. But is Harry just like every stereotypical frat boy?

word count: 6.2k 

warnings: minor violence, language, deaf!harry, smutttt

other: when Harry is talking to Y/N or any other characters - it is to be noted that he is signing. When Y/N talks to Harry - she is also always signing

Let me know if you’d want to see anything else from this verse:)

+++

You were rushed - you really shouldn’t stop at the local coffee shop for a sugary, delicious mocha chip frappuccino.

Despite what people say, professors are much more lax and carefree in college.

It was about two weeks into the new semester, - your third here- and the seasons were changing - becoming autumn.

Chilled breezes, falling leaves, and vivid colors of nature made you happy.

When you arrive in line, there are two people ahead of you. A girl currently in front of the cashier and a tall male with a red and black flannel on behind her- typing away on his phone.

When she moves to the left, the broad man steps forward. His snapback facing backwards, brown curls dancing around his neck. You can’t help but notice how tall and lean he is, shoulders broad and straight.

You definitely haven’t seen him before on campus. You’d remember.

From what you can see, he shows the young girl behind the counter the screen of his phone without saying anything at all.

The raven-haired girl’s face pinches in annoyance. “We don’t accept orders like that. You need to tell me what you want.”

You’re a little surprised by both the rude cashier but also the man who doesn’t respond right away.

He attempts to show her his phone again but she shakes her head - annoyed.

You become interested in the situation when I watch him sign, a few gestures before pointing to his ears. In the most obvious form of saying “I can’t hear.”

The clueless girl gives him a blank look, “Listen, there’s a line. I don’t have time for this.”

You hoped you weren’t overstepping your boundaries when you slide up next to him, tapping him on his shoulder to get his attention.

It is a bit startling how gorgeous the boy is. He was tanned with bright green-eyes and a defined jawline that was currently clenched in frustration.

You sign, “What are you trying to order?”

He studies you for a second with hesitance before his long slim fingers begin to move, slowly as if he thinks you may be inexperienced in the form of language.

He replies, “Large coffee with a little cream and two sugars.”

You squeeze in front of him, “It is not only rude but illegal to not serve based on disabilities. Refusing an order from a deaf person isn’t moral or acceptable.”

The girl has enough decency to mumble an apology and turned bright pink, “Sorry, he doesn’t look deaf. “You roll your eyes - how can you tell that someone is deaf based on solely appearance? This girls a fucking idiot, you think.

You repeat his order to her, along with yours - sliding your debit card towards her and give her your name for the order.

The man trails behind you to the small waiting area. “Thank you,” he signs simply. You nod and return the pleasantry. The. hand him his steaming hot coffee.

“Thank you again. I’m going to be late to class, so I have to go,” he tells me, seeming a little out of place signing with a stranger.

“Go ahead, I’ll see you around.” It was the first time in a long time you’ve signed to anyone outside your family.

+++

Sipping your drink as you are only five minutes late and the class hasn’t even started yet. The man you just helped was sat in the back of the classroom, unloading his laptop.

With a little bravery, you wriggle your way through and plop into the wooden chair easily. Letting your backpack fall to the ground. Curly looks over at you with a frown, he signs, “Why are you sitting next to me?”

You blush, “I don’t know? Thought it’d be good to have someone to talk to.”

His hands are tense as he replies, “I’m not a charity case, so you can leave me alone.”

“Never said you were,” you huff when you tell him. Not appreciating how rude he was being. Signing had its own tones and expressions so to speak. For example, when someone is happy their signs and movements are different than when they’re sad or frustrated.

Harry seems to be the latter. You wrestle out your laptop to the PowerPoint that was going to be discussed today in class. You noticed Harry stared very intently at the professor to read his lips and expression.

You was surprised he didn’t have an interpreter with him but you’re sure he got special accommodations elsewhere. Even though that was absolutely none of your business.

His shoulders are tensed and he makes sure your arms don’t brush like you have cooties for the entire two hours. The nameless boy is up and out of his seat as soon as the professor shuts off the projector and turns on the lights - signaling class to be over.

Well fuck him then.

***

You don’t make the mistake to sit next him again. But that doesn’t mean you could ogle his strong muscular back and big hands.

It wasn’t your place to care but you felt twinges in your tummy when you noticed him struggling to keep up with the fast-speed class on certain days.

You were in the large, rustic library that smelled of old books and damp wallpaper. It was dead silent as people furiously studied or worked on papers due.

As you paced the shelves, you could not find the book you needed for your American Literature class. Fuck the Dewey Decimal System.

Part-time uni students probably just stuffed returned books in any open space they saw fit. But you need this book in particular, a discussion board post due by midnight and it was currently eight-thirty. They had ran out of copies at the on-campus bookstore.

After a valiant effort, you trudge up to the checkout counter. A little sign reads, “ring me if no ones here!”

You impatiently ring the silver bell. But no one comes. You give whoever is working a minute or two but nothing. Another ring it is.

Silence. No one. Of fucking course, luck is not on your side tonight.

You dramatically clunk your head onto the high counter top in front of you - groaning at the fact you may fail the assignment.

A tentative pat on your shoulder makes you snap your head up. To see the boy you’ve been constantly avoiding standing behind the checkout desk.

“Are you okay?” He asks. He had a name-tag on - Harry. He honestly looked a bit out of place. Harry appeared to be a frat boy. He was still had a boyish air about him but an intensity that was unmatchable.

He didn’t look like he would work in the library. He looked like...well he looked like he would be a beer pong referee or something.

You couldn’t see below his torso but he had a plain black snapback on and a vintage Elton John concert tee. A cross necklace dangling over the worn shirt.

You smile, embarrassed, but reply, “Just being dramatic. I can’t find a book and I was waiting here.”

There’s mirth in his eyes when he points to the bell,”Did you ring the bell?”

Your brows furrow, “I did.”

“Well I can’t hear it, I’m deaf,” he deadpans with a straight face and a dry sense of humor.

You roll your eyes, laughing nervously, “I didn’t know you were working!”

“What do you need?”

He helps you locate the book in two minutes flat before checking you out and you rushing home to finish the homework.

You felt bad ignoring your little sister’s FaceTime calls but you promised to call her back tomorrow. 

***

Though once again, you hadn’t interacted with Harry since last week - you constantly found yourself studying his stoic profile or fast moving fingers.

You would never befriend Harry because you feel bad for him - like he presumed. You enjoyed American Sign Language and it actually made you feel back at home.

You’re little sister was born completely deaf. She was much younger than you - eight years old. Fifteen years apart to be exact. You learned the language along with her and your parents.

When you were at home and your sister was there - you guys tried to only sign so she didn’t feel left out. So Harry felt like home - a little despite his completely off-putting demeanor. It made you a little bit more persistent than with any other frat boy.

***

The bulletin board in your advisor’s office caught your eyes. None of the little tabs ripped off in interest.

‘Student with ASL experience and above a 3.5 GPA needed for tutoring sessions - twice weekly. $16 dollars an hour.’

After your meeting, you tugged the little scrap of paper off and tuck it into your pocket. You couldn’t know for sure if it was Harry but you didn’t know of any other deaf students in the program.

You say ‘fuck it’ and type out an email to the advisor of academic affairs and accommodations to throw your hat in the ring.

***

You don’t hear back for three days - nearly forgetting about it in the mean time. Your eyes scan quickly over the email to grant you the position. They include contact information for no other than Harry Styles.

After psyching yourself out a little and a few paces across your kitchen tiles - you text him.

Hey! I’m your new assigned tutor. Would you like to set up a time and place? As well as what kind of help you’re looking for.

The reply text comes shortly after

Hello, thank you very much. I am just in need of hearing ears. I am deaf and have a hard time keeping up with the my professor. I have begun recording the lectures in hope that you can sign then to me.

Sure thing. That won’t be a problem!

I live in Alpha Sigma on 3rd street. I have my own room. I’d rather not have the tutoring session in public. However, if that makes you uncomfortable - we can figure something out.

You take a minute to debate. You understand why this would be a task too loud for the library and why he’d want privacy. You didn’t feel like I’d be uncomfortable with him.

I saw twice a week so does Tuesday and Thursday at seven work?

Sounds great. Thank you again x

Did he know it was me? Was he expecting it to me?

***

He was definitely not expecting you. You automatically knew that by the way his friendly smile dissipated into a frown when he opened the door for you.

You attempted to look nice today without trying too hard. A loose crop top with the university’s name, a pair of tight black leggings, bulky white socks bunched at your ankles, and white sneakers. Very 80’s.

You try to keep your composure, “Hi Harry, I’m going to be your tutor.”

He slowly nods at you, huffing out a breathe of irritation before inviting you into the frat house.

You’d only been here once or twice for a party so you had no idea what the house actually looked like when there weren’t bodies and booze everywhere.

He’s walking you past a group of boys playing FIFA on the flatscreen in the living room, white claws open everywhere.

“Y/N! Hey babe!” You look over to see Niall - one of your good friends from your part-time job at the bookstore - trotting over to you guys.

The blonde pulls you into an overexcited hug. He reminded you of a cuddly, soft puppy dog most of the time.

“Are you Harry’s little tutor?” Niall coos, leaning over to pinch Harry’s cheek. 

Harry- who was observing the conversation, focusing in on our lips, immediately bats his friend away. A small scowl forming on his face.

It automatically turns into a playful brawl where Niall tugs Harry into headlock. But he has no strength on the brunette.

Harry turns out of it quickly and pushes Niall to the ground. He straddles his stomach and begins to jokingly pinch and slap at him.

Niall hisses, “Ouch! You motherfucker! Big oaf!”

Then you don’t know why you find this endearing but Niall signs the word, “uncle” a few times to signal he’s accepted his lost.

The fact that they wrestle so much that Niall learned to sign how to give up made you giggle more than it should.

Harry crawls off of him, running a hand through his messy curls, his face a little flushed.

“I’ll talk to you later!” You tell Niall as your trailing behind Harry up a flight of stairs.

His room is extremely neat. A fluffy navy comfort decorated his bed with a few photos of flowers and nature on his wall. A tidy desk tucked away in the corner that had all of his school work loaded on top of it.

He chooses to sit in his desk chair, motioning for you to perch on his bed. You look at him expectantly when he pulls out the tape recorder and sets it on the surface.

He pulls his laptop into his lap and begins signing, “I need you to transcribe the lecture for me so I can follow it. We can skip through the bits where he is rambling or off topic.”

You nod, letting him know to begin whenever he’s ready. He presses the side button and the recording starts but it super unclear and garbled.

“Did you record this from your seat?” You ask, the professors words nearly inaudible and fuzzy.

“Yes.”

“You need to bring it to the front of the room. Ask Dr. Morrison  to lay it on his desk before class. I can’t hear anything but static and mumbles,” You tell him.

He laughs and shakes his head. His movements rough and angry, “Of course its fucked up. I get you as my tutor and then the recorder is shit.”

You glare at him, offended as you haven’t done anything to this boy. “Excuse me? I’ve literally been trying to help since I’ve meet you. What is your fucking issue?”

“I’m not a charity case! I don’t need you to feel bad for me. I’m not helpless! You’re probably just a silly little girl who took ASL in high school because it was cool and trendy. Go back to focusing on psych.”

“Fuck you, Harry,” Your gestures getting sharper and your face sour, “You know nothing about me so don’t act like you do. I don’t feel bad for you or think that you’re helpless.” You put up a hand and tell him to not talk.

“I was just being nice because I thought you were handsome and at first, seemed friendly. It turns out you’re just like every douchebag frat boy I’ve met. What a disappointment,” You chuckle, swinging your bag on your shoulder and storm out of the room without another look.

***

The cafe was jammed packed - it was Waffle Wednesday. You had said waffles in your tray and were about to plop down on a stool when you hear your name being called.

“C’mere, come sit with us!” He hollers over the commotion of the crowd. Niall.

You’re about to decline when some dude slips behind you and snags the stool. Shit.

A bit unwillingly you slide into the booth next to Niall, cracking open your sparkling water. “Mates, this is Y/N, we work at the store together and she’s Harry’s tutor,” he tells them. “Y/N, this is Liam and Louis.”

“Hello,” you try your best to come off as friendly even though you can feel Harry’s glare on the side of your face. You ended up falling to easy conversation with the boys. Niall has a very limited ASL vocabulary but tries.

The boys are also trying to talk slower and more pronounced so Harry can watch and understand. A couple of times he taps Niall on the wrist to repeat what was going on.

Your phone begins buzzing and you apologize for the interruption. It’s your little sister, Mazie, FaceTiming.

You answer the phone with a frown, signing “Aren’t you suppose to be in school?”

Mazie looks upset, eyes a little watery. She gestures back, “I left early. I’m sick.”

“Are you really sick or where you getting bullied again?” You asks her.

Your sister hesitates before sniffling, “You already know. I hate my school.” 

Mazie has had other children bully her for her disability since she started preschool and it as still happening in fourth grade.

“What can I do to help?” You frown, never wanting to see your baby sister cry.

You chat for a few minutes to help her calm down. When the phone call ends, you don’t realize that all the boys were watching you in interest. Harry in particular, keeps his focus on you with a wrinkled forehead.

“My sister’s deaf,” You tell them. The whole time you’ve been sitting with them you’ve been signing and verbally speaking to help everyone be able to be included in the conversation.

“That’s sick!” Louis says, smacking Harry’s arm. “Just like our lad Harry.” 

Harry grumbles when Louis shakes him a little. It seems like the boys loved to physically interact with Harry which was endearing.

Harry allows him to for a moment before he flicks his cheek hard and laughs when Louis flinches. The conversation goes back to normal.

***

Harry jogs up to you after your group shares farewells and a few punches. You pointedly ignore him as you trek to the class you two have together so it’s not like he can’t walk this way too.

“Please, wait,” Harry asks. He walks in front of you.

“What do you want?” You huff, keeping my glare firm and directed alley at him.

“I’m sorry. I made the wrong assumption.”

“You made a lot of wrong assumptions. The fact that you think of me so lowly is sad. I’ve been nothing but nice,” You try not to focus on his large palms that curve over the caps of your shoulders.

“I’m not very trusting of people.”

You snort rather unattractively, “No kidding”

“Can we please start over?” He asks, stepping back to give you space. He didn’t realize how close he’d been standing to you until your hair wisps across his nose.

“One more chance, Styles.”

Harry lays a hand on your upper arm and squeeze lightly before signing the simple gesture of ‘thank you.’

***

It turns out Harry is very handsy and physically affectionate. It wasn’t creepy though or something that ever made you feel uncomfortable.

You were still tutoring him but you hung around the frat with Harry nearly everyday. The days you just wanted to lay in bed resulted in a grumpy FaceTime from Harry.

Harry once stated during a tutoring session, “It is easier for me to show how I’m feeling with touch than words. If I ever make you uncomfortable - please tell me and I will stop.”

You smile slyly at his words that sounded more like a question, asking if he can touch you. “I guess I’ll let you feel me up every now in again.”

He giggles and looks down wolfishly - like an entertaining thought is dancing around in his mind.

You tuck your finger under his chin to gaze at you. “In all seriousness, I give you my consent to show your feelings with physical touch. I trust you and know you won’t do anything to make me uncomfortable.”

The curly-haired brunette smiles happily, his hand cupping the side of your neck and brushing over your pulse point.

He hadn’t touched you here before and it seems like it was his first goal to do so once he got permission. You can’t help but take in a deep gasp of air. You prayed he didn’t notice but by the small lift of his lips he did.

The simple touch made a flame of arousal swirl in your lower stomach. You felt like you were about to start sweating.

“Anyways,” You clear your throat and snatch back up the recorder. It now had better quality after Harry listened to you about placement.

***

The frat house was ridiculously full of drunk college students. Everybody on the dance floor was sweaty and sticky with a variety of different substances.

Niall had invited you - so you were searching about for him. Pushing through the crowd and nobody was able to hear you say ‘excuse me.’

You finally found fresh air in the backyard where beer pong and cornhole were set up. Niall was tossing his ball across the table, trying to splash in Liam’s red solo cups.

Harry was sitting on a cushioned patio chair, watching the game commence. Maybe he was a beer pong referee after all. 

He looked so fucking good tonight. He had a yellow snapback taming his curls - backwards of course. A black Rage Against the Machine shirt and his signature black skinny jeans. **

You made eye contact and were about to wave when a girl plopped down in the seat across from him.

Awkwardly you turn away, greeting the other boys and taking a seat in a lawn chair to watch them start their third round of the game.

Your eyes keep darting over to Harry who is staring blankly at the girl. She starts stroking his biceps and tracing across the tattoos like they belong to her.

Harry is attempting to let her know he’s not interested. His signs uselessly as she’s staring at his lips and not hands.

You’re moving before you know it, without another thought, you squeeze in between the two - separating them. You dramatically slide into his lap, funnily enough one strong arm wrapping happily around your middle.

The pretty blonde pouts out her lips, “Is he your boyfriend?”

Before you’re able to reply, Harry signs the obvious signal for ‘yes’ to the girl. Then rudely makes the shooing gesture. She’s up with a huff and stomping back towards the house.

Harry turns you sideways on his lap so that you two can see each other’s hands, “You saved me.”

“You’re just such a stud, have to protect you,” You joke - but not really.

He raising his eyebrows and smiles, “You were jealous.” It was a statement not a question.

You blush wildly, avoiding eye contact which you know he hates. He hates anytime you cut off ways of communication.

Harry taps your lips until you look up at him, “it’s really fucking sexy when you are.” A perk of sign language. He could dirty talk just about anywhere and mostly no one would ever know.

His thumb drags on your full bottom lip, signing clumsily with one hand so you had to use context clues to piece it together “Don’t think I forgot when you called me handsome a few months ago.”

“I don’t remember, doesn’t sound like me,” You boldly lie, snickering and nipping at the top of his thumb

His eyes become a shade darker when your teeth meet his skin. He presses his thumb further in until it’s in-between your teeth. The moment is broken when Niall screams, “Styles! You’re up next!”

**

You and Harry become separated after you spent nearly two hours watching all these drunk boys play beer pong. Harry was ridiculously good at the game and only had to drink two cups from the table.

You had wandered back into the house where the party had died down. There were only a handful of stragglers left but mostly just the fraternity brothers and their close friends.

With a fresh alcoholic seltzer in your hand - you didn’t trust open bottles at parties like this - you gaze at Harry through the back window.

Harry was being jumped by Liam and Niall. He was snarling playfully as Liam toppled them all over into the grass. Niall tries to stand up but Harry’s hand wraps around his ankle and makes him fall right back on his bum with a girlish squeal.

Niall leans over to give Harry a wet-willy but Liam manages to throw a plastic cup directly at Niall’s forehead. Harry and the other boys dissolve in childish giggles. Faces red from laughter and liquor. You feel a smile painted fondly on your lips from watching them.

“Hey, Y/N right?” A voice interrupts from behind.

You spin to face a guy you barely recognize from a previous class you shared. You smile nonetheless, “Hi...”

“Jake, Jake from Social Constructs and Society last semester.”

“Oh yeah, that’s right,” You smile and allow him to talk your ear off because you struggle to say ‘no.’ He was fine, nothing special, typical business major who thought he was hot shit because his daddy owned a golf course he wanted to take you to.

It was a normal conversation until his voice gets lower as if he’s trying to be more seductive, “Want to head to a room with me?” He nods towards the staircase.

You chuckle in disbelief at his bold and forward question. “No thank you, I’m good.” You really had eyes for one person right now and he was currently cussing out Niall in sign language in the backyard before tackling him once again to the ground.

“C’mon, I can really show you a good time,” He persuades persistently, stepping into your space - causing your nervousness to spike.

“I said - no thank you,”You bite out, starting to feel scared when he blocks your way out of the kitchen and presses himself against you and the counter.

“You’re really something gorgeous, you know?” He asks, ignoring my struggles to get away from him.

“Stop touching me!” You scream, hoping Niall or one of the boys would hear your wail. He puts a hand up to your mouth to muffle you but that only results in you biting him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cries out, pulling his hand back and winding up to either punch or slap you right in the face. You prepare for the impact.

Then in a blink off an eye, it becomes a blur, a muscular figure is crashing into Jake with full force and knocking him straight into the linoleum floor with a loud crash.

It’s Harry. Broad shoulders and thick but lean tattooed biceps. He’s standing over the harasser and drops on top of him. It shouldn’t look as graceful and tactful as it does.

You’d never seen anything like this from Harry before. Once you really got to know him - he was a gentle giant who liked romantic comedies, soft blankets, and vanilla cupcakes with rainbow sprinkles.

Harry’s fist is repeatedly connecting with the dark-haired boy’s jaw with full force. The only noise is from Jake as Harry is dead silent but his eyes zeroed in on the target.

When blood begins gushing from the man’s nose - Niall and Liam decide it times to physically pull Harry up. Harry had a slight red mark on his jaw when Jake had managed one punch before being defeated quickly.

Harry signs to Niall, “Tell him.”

Niall places his foot on the dude’s chest to keep him down, “My mate wants to let you know if you touch her again we’re not going to pull him off and he’ll gladly beat you to a fucking pulp.”

Jake groans, clutching his nose to stop the bleeding, “Fuckin’ asshole.” 

You were still blown away as you watch Harry’s heaving chest as he glares down at the boy. His fist clenched and knuckle bloody and swollen. Harry’s attention turns towards you. His furious expression melts into worry. You can read his face so clearly. He’s afraid he’s scared you off.

It was hard to believe you had this drop dead gorgeous frat boy defending you past midnight on a Friday night. A boy who didn’t need to hear but just to see you needed help to step in.

All your desires and lusts after the man in front of you burst like a rubber-band and the urge to have him felt uncontrollable. “Take me upstairs,” you demand quickly, arousal creeping up your spine.

He doesn’t understand you’re extremely turned on. Instead he looks like a kicked dog who’s about to get in trouble again.

Nevertheless, he takes your hand and maneuvers out of the kitchen and up the stairs until his bedroom door is closed.

Harry lips are turned down unhappily as he begins, “I’m sorry, love. I...” he pauses a moment before continuing. “I just wanted to make sure you were safe. I hope you don’t think less of me.”

You look him dead in the eye and sign, “Kiss me.”

He blinks slowly at you like he just hallucinate the gestures.

So you repeat your motions, slow and with intent, “Kiss me, touch me, do something.” No more time is wasted as he is stepping in front of you and cupping your face in his hands.

Without any hesitation now, he pressing a bruising kiss to your lips - taking your bottom one between his and sucking.

Your hands are immediately tugging at the hem of his vintage shirt, pulling apart to bring it over his head. Dark ink decorates his torso, for some reason something you weren’t expecting. A butterfly on his abdomen, two fern branches, tattoos on his side.

Harry chuckles, “This is new to me.”

Your eyes go wide and you sign, “You’re a virgin?”

Harry snorts and rolls his eyes before telling you, “God no. I mean I’ve never been able to really communicate during sex.”

Then before You can speak, he cuts in a bit frantically, “I’ve always gotten consent - not like that. I mean-“ You cut him off with a kiss - knowing he would never do anything you didn’t want.

You wanted everything from him.

“If you’d believe it, I like a bit of dirty talk when I fuck - but no one understands what I’m saying,” He tries to crack a joke but for some reason seems insecure and nervous.

“Hey,” You take his chin so he shyly meets your eye, “I can’t wait to hear it - you’ve already made me so wet.” His eyes light up like a kid on Christmas.

“You’re such a good girl,” he signs before tugging off your shirt and instantly finding your lips again. His hands are skillful as they unclasp your bra without any struggle and tosses it.

You tugs a bit as his hair to show your enjoyment as his tongue finds your nipple - lapping before taking it between his teeth. As good as it feels, you want him to feel even better.

You push him back until he’s sitting in the edge of the bed, legs spread and hands behind him on either side holding him up. Jaw clenched with arousal and restraint.

He’s pressed against the zipper of his jeans. And all you wanted to do was see him in all of his glory. You’re quick to undo the button and determined to get the finicky zipper down as well.

His fingers come beneath your chin until you’re looking at his sparkling eyes, a look of lust made his lids a little droopier and his mouth slack from heavy-breathing.

“Are you sure you want to? You don’t have to - I want to eat your pussy either way, pet,” He signs, leaning in for a slow, wet kiss.

You sign back with a pout, “Shut the fuck up.” He huffs out a laugh, letting go of your chin and wrapping a hand in your hair to keep it out of your face.

As soon as he’s helping you wriggle his briefs and jeans down his narrow hips, you’re met with the prettiest cock you’ve ever seen.

When you make eye contact with Harry, he raises a eyebrow and grins cockily, “Is it nice enough for your liking, love?”

You nod breathlessly - wasting no more time before ducking down to take him to your mouth, a slight burning in your throat from how big he is.

His hands keep ahold of your hair, thumbs pressed against your temples as you bob down his length with sloppy, warm licks.

Harry’s moaning as you pop off to kiss and suck at the underside of him, hands coming to cup and roll his balls. It is a few moments later when he taps your cheek to get your attention, one hand leaving his hair to sign that he’s close.

Your mouth speeds up, wanting to give him all the pleasure you could. Your hand coming to stroke at what couldn’t fit in your mouth, pumping quickly.

Before you know it, Harry’s rutting his hips upwards and coming with a long, deep moan from the rumbles of his chest. He’s pulling you up into his lap, pressing appreciative kisses to your cheeks and jawline.

Big hands palming at your breasts before slipping down into your leggings, brushing softly over your mound. 

You whine and hitch forward to grind against his palm as soon as he cups you. He smiles widely at your desperation, pressing the heel of his palm harder against you to create more pressure.

You were already so wet and turned on that it wasn’t going to take much. The ball of your climax was burning low in your tummy. However, you wanted him to taste you like he said he would.

You sign, “I’m close. Please, I want your mouth on me.”

With that, he’s flipping you until you’re laid out on the bed. His hands tugging off your leggings and underwear with no further ado. “Holy shit,” He gestures, gazing all over your body and not stopping on one spot for too long.

“What?” You ask, fishing for the compliments you know he’s about to shower you in.

“You’ve got such a pretty pussy,” he signs, dimples popping in his cheeks and a curious finger traces your entrance before dipping in.

You lightly kick at his stomach, “Get on me.” He pouts, crooking his finger against your spot before pulling it out. Fucking tease.

Then his face is disappearing between your spread thighs and a strong lick is delivered from your clit all the way down to your bum.

Since he can’t hear you, you grabs handfuls off his hair. Tugging at the roots, scratching your nails into his scalp to let him know how good he is. So fucking good.

When you accidentally buck your hips hard against his mouth, you curse and run a apologetic hand through the locks. He doesn’t look up at you but lift a hand and signs, “Again.”

You absolutely whine, begging to ride him with determination - climax on the brink. He hums causing vibrations on the sensitive nerves. With that, your hips are meeting his tongue and you’re coming. His face dampening with your release - happy as a clam when he pops back up.

You can’t remember the sign for condom, so you sign, “Protection?” Harry understands right away, rustling through the drawer until he finds a stray packets, “It’s been awhile.”

“Same,” You gestures - watching as he slides it down his length and crawls overtop of you. He was pink and swollen - having to be a bit sensitive from just coming a little while ago.

“Ready, love?” He asks, pressing soft kisses to your jawline. You nod, reaching down to guide him in.

And you weren’t lying, it had been a while and he was big. The stretch wasn’t uncomfortable, just a lot. But his wet, open-mouth kisses made you stay grounded.

Harry’s moans were absolutely obscene as he slide all the way in before stopping to give you a moment. His arms strong, holding himself over you. The cold metal of his necklaces brushing against your tight nipples.

When you have him the okay, he begin giving you deep, hard strokes on each thrust. His noises so loud they had to be able to hear them downstairs. They were deep and low - rumbling in his chest with pleasure.

Then his hand is coming to your throat. For a wild moment you thought he was going to choke you but instead he rest it lightly, palm flat.

It takes you a moment - then it hits you.

Holy fuck. He is feeling the vibrations of your moans - erupting from your vocal cords. Feeling out the movement from your throat so he can feel how much you’re enjoying it.

You should be embarrassed but you can’t find it in you when you come again right on the spot. His fingertips nudging into the skin to feel the intensity as it wracks through you.

When you’re done riding out your orgasm, he reaches for the headboard behind you with his other hand, gripping it tightly as he begins to pound in with all his strength.

The bedframe is hitting the wall so loud that the whole house must be able to hear it. Hitting with every directed thrust until his mouth is dropping down into a long, timbred moan and he’s coming.

---

Later, when the two are you have settled for the night in the warmth of his bed. Harry seems a little nervous, once again. It takes him a moment to meet your eyes and brushes a strand of hair off your forehead.

“What is it?” You ask, tucked into his side. His body so solid and comforting.

“It’s corny,” Harry frowns, eyebrows furrowing as his eyes flash across your face.

“Tell me,” You insist, bringing his hand to your lips to kiss his fingertips.

“I feel like you were made for me. Like...we were meant to be together,” Harry signs, hesitant to share his thoughts. But it doesn’t scare you away. You can’t help but agree.

“I think so too,” You reply before pressing another kiss to his puffy pink lips.

[violettelueur]

— JUJUTSU KAISEN EPISODE SEVEN || ASSAULT

↳ featuring : fushiguro megumi + kugisaki nobara + zenin maki + inumaki toge + panda from jujutsu kaisen

↳ warnings : mention of forced marriage + EXTREME grammar issues

↳ form : story

↳ published : 28 february

↳ pronouns : she/her

↳ word count : 2.5k

↳ synopsis : within the jujutsu world, there were three famous clans to be aware of, the Kamo clan, Zenin clan and the Gojo clan. However, unknown to many sorcerers there was one last family that was known to be apart of the three, only for them to disappear after the golden era leading some to speculate that they had died in battle after the sealing of ryomen sukuna, but....

↳ previous episode : after rain 

↳ next episode : boredom

↳ barista’s notes : hi again....barista violettelueur is back from the shadows of not writing anything  ┬┴┬┴┤•ᴥ•ʔ├┬┴┬┴ but i want to apologies to you all for not working on your coffee orders, i just been really being in a non productive mood theses days but i should really bring it back up since i have mocks coming in soon....ʕ ㅇ ᴥ ㅇʔ but overall, i hope you enjoy today’s episode and have a wonderful day/night ʕ•ᴥ•ʔﾉ♡

BEFORE READING, I NEED YOU TO BE AWARE OF THIS:

1. the whole story belongs to Gege Akutami and the credits go to them and them only.

2. the spell curses used belong to Tite Kubo due to them being the ‘Kidos’ being used on the manga and anime ‘Bleach’ - but none is mentioned in this chapter.

2.5 for the ‘cursed spells’/kidos (bleach) i will link this video here and tell you the time stamp to check out what i am intending to show - remember i add a few twist here and there by adding the katana to link with Y/N’s cursed technique

no cursed spells used this episode...

3. if you are confused on anything, please don’t hesitate to message me since i know this whole thing is so confusing.

“I think you can do that,” you stated in a quiet tone, causing Fushiguro to look in your direction only to see you staying still in the position that you had set yourself in before slowly pulling yourself back up to sit in a normal position, leading Fushiguro to go back to what he was in deep thought about.

‘I don’t get it, though. Why...did you run back then? What a waste of talent, but the girl back at that place, she knows how to use her technique extremely well’

“You possess such intellect, such skill, such power and such talent and yet you refuse to go against me with your full potential, are you mocking me?”

‘I have the potential to beat special grades? Is that what he meant by that?’ Fushiguro thought, before turning to look at you to discover you were looking into the distance while continuously sipping on your orange juice like the addict you were. 

‘What was she trying to tell me? It seemed like L/N knows something...intellect?’

Slowly but curiously, Fushiguro began to reciprocate your previous movements by letting his hand touch the step between his legs before waiting for a second to see what you were trying to inform him, only for his hand to steadily go deeper into his shadow leading him to widen his eyes at this discovery.

“Tuna, tuna,” Inumaki mentioned, as he pointed at Fushiguro since he noticed what he was doing, leading Zenin and Panda to look at their classmate wanting to know what he was trying to bring their attention to.

“Huh? What?” Zenin asked in confusion, before turning her head in the shikigami user’s direction to realise what he was doing.

“Senpai, I think I can do it,” Fushiguro stated, with a rare smile before looking in your direction once again to see you were still staring at the field in front of you.

‘Such intellect…’

                                               ꕥ

 “Ahh?”

Suddenly, after you masterfully was able to swipe Zenin’s footing with the metal pole-arm she had given you for the practice match, you were suddenly hoisted into the arm once you fully turned around, only to suddenly find Panda effortlessly lift you up with his paws on either side, catching you by complete surprise.

“Are they finally going to get her?!” Kugisaki shouted in question since, for the past few days of training, no one was able to defeat you in any of the practice matches they had set out.

However, before Panda could act of on his plan, you gracefully spun your body around to face the other way like a professional gymnast before concentrating your cursed energy to your leg and foot as you swang down to kick the sorcerer in the back causing the animal to let go of the pole in pain as he fell while you landed with some stagger since you didn’t have enough time to plan your footing with Inuamki behind you to make sure you didn’t fall down.

“Maybe not...” Fushiguro muttered while sitting next to his classmate as both of them were sitting on the stairs spectating the fight going on between you and the two other second-years.

“Wow!” Kugisaki gleefully mentioned as she lightly clapped her hands for your performance.

“Ah sorry senpai, did I kick you too hard?” you sincerely asked, as you crouch down by his side to check if he was doing okay, to which he gave you a thumbs up to indicate his well-being before praising you for your performance which led you to stand up straight to move over to Zenin to give her a hand on getting back up.

“You’re really strong,” Zenin muttered with a smile causing you to smile back before stating, “Nah, you really made it challenging since it’s been a while since I fought someone good with weapons,” which lead your upperclassmen to tell you to get Fushiguro since it was his turn.

Leisurely walking to your classmates by the stairs, you casually threw the pole towards Fushiguro, who caught it instantly, before mentioning to him that it was his turn to train with Zenin leading him to get up from his seat to move to his designated area for you to then take his seat next to Kugisaki, leading to your classmate to place her head on your shoulder as you took out your phone to scroll through a bit.

“Is that your sister, Gojo?” Kugisaki question, leading you to turn your head slightly to look down at her only to find her staring down at the screen of your phone to which you turned back to you.

“No, that’s my mother,” you answered as you stare down at your wallpaper that showcases a picture with you and your mother in what seemed to be in a professional setting as you both were seated on what seemed to be on an antique-like style couch while wearing similar baby-blue colour dresses as you had a familiar bouquet of blue hydrangeas with white roses in hand.

“Really?! She looks so young,” Kugisaki commented, as she, in a state of shock, grabbed your wrist and looked closer into the screen to observe the picture. “You really suit baby-blue as well, but black is more of your suit in my opinion,” your classmate commented as she released her grip before lifting her head off your shoulder to peer at your outfit.

At this current moment in time, you were wearing some black nylon cargo joggers as well as black trainers paired with a long-sleeved black cropped top since you knew it was going to be a little hot today but you never really liked wearing bright colours - you were just more comfortable with darker ones like your uniform.

“Do you think so? So, should I get this Balenciaga bag then?” you asked as you tilted the phone towards her to show the bag that has been on your wishlist for some time.

“You like Balenciaga too?!” Kugisaki screamed in shock as she turned to you with widened eyes, resulting in your doing the same, only for you both to then suddenly thoroughly search the whole website to tell each other your favourite items while planning a shopping trip together since you both were giving each other ideas on clothing to purchase.

“That’s such a cute jumper,” you commented, as you, once again, presented Kugisaki your phone for her to agree with you before showing a jacket that she has been eyeing for quite some time. “That looks so good, you could pair it with a jean skirt and maybe a top, maybe orange to match your hair,” you commented, leading Kugisaki to smile and nod at you.

“That jumper is quite long, so you could wear like a cropped white turtleneck or maybe the same coloured blue dress shirt, add that to your wishlist!” Kugisaki mentioned, while at the same time pressing the heart icon to add the item on your wishlist without you lifting a single finger.

Suddenly, while you two were busy looking up items together, a sudden shadow overcast you both leading you to look up to find a roughed up Fushiguro in front of you before he mentioned that it was Kugisaki’s turn to train which cause her to pout before giving her phone to you, so you could take care of it before making her way to the two second-years that were waiting for her as the shikigami user took her seat.

“How was it?” you asked, as you closed your phone, only to hear a sigh from your classmate.

“It’s not bad, just not used to using weapons,” Fushiguro commented, as he stared out into the distance to see Kugisaki running away from Panda with Zenin looking at them in complete confusion.

“We got more than a month left, you should be fine,” you commented, as you looked at your phone screen to see the date. “Besides, you won’t constantly use them but it’s good to use since you can combine physical attacks with weapon attacks when it comes to battle,” you explained as you continued to stare at the family photo on your phone.

‘When was the last time I wore a dress like that?’ you thought, as you tilted your head in confusion.

“What was the reason you kept being on the run?” Fushiguro suddenly asked, causing you to break from your trance to turn to look at your classmate in confusion, only to discover a nonchalant look on his face like it was a common question to ask - maybe it was for the jujutsu sorcerer world.

“Because I’m not supposed to exist Fushiguro, you’re a Zenin by blood, you should know that my clan shouldn’t exist after the golden age, we disappeared,” you answered since you were perplexed on why the sorcerer beside you, asked a question with an answer that he probably already knows.

“But you’re a powerful sorcerer, you wouldn’t have that much trouble would you?” Fushiguro asked, leading you to shift your eyes down to avoid any eye contact before turning back to the track field in front of you to see the now common sight of Kugisaki being spun around in the air by Panda.

“I don’t know what they’ll do to me, I don’t need a bounty on my head everywhere I go, it was better for me to hide in the shadows as long as the L/N clan did,” you answered with a hushed tone, to which Fushiguro barely caught since you turned so quiet.

                                             ꕥ

“If any of the other clans knew of her existence, she would be forced to bring the L/N clan back up again or forced into a marriage,” Gojo explained, as he relaxed in his usual black chair, while Fushiguro leaned against the windows of the room they were at right now.

“Marriage?” Fushiguro questioned in confusion since he was confused on what the point of you being in a forced marriage when you were enough as a sorcerer by yourself.

“To continue the inheritance of her cursed technique,” Gojo informed his student, as he sat up from his relaxed posture. “Her inherited cursed technique is an extremely powerful one that any sorcerer wants, I don’t think she has mastered all the extreme spells as of this moment in time, but she knows what she is doing,” Gojo expanded on his explanation while tilted his glasses down to eye his student to check if he understood what he had said so far.

“But what would a marriage between the clans do? It would only decrease the change of the technique even being inherited,” Fushiguro asked, only for his teacher to smirk.

“I’m sure Y/N knows this, but that’s what the Zenin Clan demanded back in the Heian era before Sukuna was sealed, that a marriage was needed to ‘strengthen their power’ only for the L/N clan to refuse,” Gojo stated bluntly causing Fushiguro eyes to widen, as the Six Eye sorcerer continued with, “her real existence must be kept a secret and that’s my job now as her adoptive father since I’ve been entrusted with her safety,”.

“Entrusted? By who? L/N?” Fushiguro interrogated in a perplexed tone, only to receive a shrug at the end, gaining no answer to his pending question.

                                              ꕥ

Continuously staring at you, Fushiguro couldn’t but recall the conversation he had with Gojo, remembering the details that were mentioned within the chat. There was no surprise in his mind now on why you were extremely anxious about him and Gojo when you first met them; you probably thought you were going to be forced into something that you didn’t want to happen.

“Do you…hate me?”

“Huh?” you confusingly said before quickly turning your head to look at Fushiguro, once again seeing his usually stoic face looking straight at you while you gave him the surprised look. “What makes you ask that?” you queried since you didn’t expect him to ask such a question especially since you both had worked together for a few weeks now as well as fought together against Sukuna back at the Eushi Detention Centre.

“Since I’m a Zenin by blood, do you-” Fushiguro explained before he was cut off by you flicking his forehead with your finger in an annoyed manner, as the impact reflected on your emotions causing Fushiguro to wince slightly at the pain since he didn’t expect it to hurt as much as it did.

“Why would I hate you? As much as I hate the Zenin clan for what they did to my clan, you and Zenin-senpai ain’t that bad. In fact, you both ain’t bad at all,” you stated before sighing in annoyance since it was an extremely stupid question for him to ask. “Fushiguro, if I hated you, I would have made you fight Sukuna alone and wait until he came to me, don’t you think, you drag?” you rhetorically asked, before lightly slapping the side of his head to shake some of his brain cells to wake up before looking at the track field to see Kugisaki getting up from the floor with an angered expression as she demanded a re-match causing you to giggle lightly at the sight.

“We’re cool Fushiguro, there’s no need to worry about it,” you reassured the sorcerer, before standing up on your feet with your hand out towards your classmate’s direction.

“Come on, it seems like we’re taking a break and about to run some errands for the second-years,” you commented, causing Fushiguro to turn to look at the field to see Inumaki signalling a timeout sign before imitating a drinking action, informing you both to get some water for them as well as yourselves.

Taking your hands, he pulled himself up before you both disconnected your hands, leading you to turn around to grab the desired bottles of water that were required before coming back to resume training.

“Gojo! Wait for me, we need to talk more about our shopping trip!” Kugisaki loudly shouted, causing you to halt and turn your head to see your classmate rushing up the stairs to come to you before resuming once she was by your side.

Slowly from behind, Fushiguro decided to walk behind you both as he knew his upperclassmen would tell him to hurry up with the errands that they had placed on your three.

“You really need to stop with your assaults Gojo,” Fushiguro stated, as he pressed his index and middle finger on the middle of his forehead, as he remembered the pain that came along with your flick as well as complaining about the side head slap he had gained from you.

“Nah, you just got to stop asking stupid questions Fushiguro,” you commented back before asking Kugisaki want she was planning to get.

‘So make sure you’re not alone in this world like I am Y/N, I want you to be happy even when we’re both stuck with this burden!’

‘I’m trying mother,’ you thought, as you tightly gripped your phone that was still in your pocket.

© violettelueur 2021 : written and published by violettelueur - do not steal or repost

[luvidzy]

☆ genre: fluff

☆ pairing: hwang yeji x reader

☆ summary: it’s the day of your first art exhibition and yeji isn’t there to hold your hand

☆ word count: 1.8k

Your fork clattered onto your plate, your hand trembling as you took in the news that your girlfriend, Yeji, wouldn’t be able to make it to your art exhibition tomorrow. You had been so excited and proud to share your artwork with her, having spent a long time on the specific piece being displayed. The display that she would never see.

She stared at you with eyes full of sadness, moving to take your hand in hers. You were still frozen, your lips shaking as you tried to stop the oncoming tears that were making their way to the corners of your eyes.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry. I really did everything I could, but we are just so close to our comeback that I can’t miss anything.” Yeji’s voice was soft, almost as if she was afraid you might break if she raised her tone. You squeezed your eyes shut, begging yourself to get a grip on your emotions. You needed to calm down, afterall this really wasn’t that big of a deal.

“No…. No, it’s fine. I promise. Sorry, I guess it’s just been a weird day.” That was a lie. Your day had actually been really good (up until now), but Yeji didn’t need to know that. If lying was what it took for her to feel a little less guilty about the situation, then you would lie until the sun began to rise in the morning.

“Will you take pictures? I still want to see everything, and I want to hear about everything. I promise, the minute I come home, I’m all yours,” Yeji said, giving you the smile that always managed to warm your heart and bring you a little bit of solace. 

“Won’t you be tired from practice?”

“Too tired for my beautifully talented partner? Never.” You giggled weakly at that comment, feeling a small smile make its way onto your face. You were still upset, still cursing the fact that you couldn’t have Yeji there for something so important, but you knew that she meant every word she said about staying up to listen to you recall your experience.

“Okay. I love you.” Yeji lifted your hand and pressed the smallest kiss onto the back of it. You felt your face heat up as she smiled at you, continuing to hold your hand while grabbing her silverware with the other one, determined to give you comfort in her touch, even if it was only the smallest sliver of happiness.

The next morning, after a quick breakfast with Yeji, she headed off to do some outfit fittings while you headed out to do last minute checks on your art before it was taken to the small gallery the event was taking place at. Your teacher was already waiting in the classroom, your canvas sitting on an easel.

You took one last look at the piece in front of you, of the watercolors that splashed together on the canvas to create the perfect image, before you let the black cloth drop over it. Your teacher gave you a smile as she patted you on the back.

“It’s going to look great at the exhibit tonight, Y/N. Just you wait,” she reassured. You gave her a soft smile, though you couldn’t get rid of the pit that sat in your stomach. After all, the one person who you wanted to see the piece most wouldn’t be able to make it.

You knew that it wasn’t Yeji’s fault; that it was the price that you paid for dating an idol. You would simply have to get used to the fact that she wouldn’t be available all the time, and that you would simply have to do certain things alone, even if you wanted nothing more than to hold her hand while doing them.

Upon leaving your classroom, you headed straight to your apartment. As much as you would have loved to sit and mope around til the time came for the exhibit, you knew that getting ready would take much longer than you wanted. Afterall, this wasn’t a simple class gathering, this was a public art exhibition, and you wanted to look your best for the masses.

After showering and spending about half an hour wrapped in a towel looking at your phone, you finally decided to get ready. You sent a quick text to Yeji, wishing her luck on their practice tonight, before throwing your phone gently onto your bed and focusing on getting yourself presentable.

It wasn’t until you were on the way to the exhibit that the nerves began to set in. This was your first time showing art to such a big group of people, and you hoped that they would find it as beautiful as you did. Despite the reassurance from Yeji and your teacher prior to this moment, you still found your finger nervously tapping the steering wheel as you tried to get your heart to stop pounding.

This was right about the time that you would have loved to have Yeji’s hand to hold, to squeeze, to ground you and let you know that everything was okay. But unfortunately, it was just you.

Your anxiety only worsened as you walked into the gallery. It wasn’t your first time here, and you usually loved visiting, but for some reason you couldn’t find it in you to step into the gallery knowing that your art was on the wall, waiting to be seen and critiqued.

You squeezed your eyes and pretended that Yeji was beside you, calming you down. You imagined her hand gently rubbing circles on your back, and it felt so real that you almost got chills as her hands moved from your back down to your hands. You could practically feel the weight of her palm in yours, and you squeezed lightly. You felt your eyes shoot open in surprise as her hand squeezed back, except it was too real to be just in your head.

You turned your head quickly, your breath catching as Yeji smiled from beside you. She looked gorgeous, in a simple skirt and a nice blouse, but she looked so much more magical to you. Your mouth opened in surprise as she smiled giddily at you, pulling you into her embrace. In no time, your hands were wrapped around her petite waist, holding her close as you felt the urge to cry again, this time with happiness. 

“I thought you said that you couldn’t make it,” you said, pulling back to make sure you weren’t dreaming. Her laugh filled your ears and you were certain that, no you weren’t dreaming, you were just dating the most perfect girl to ever exist.

“I managed to talk my way out of practice. I owe our choreographer dinner, but it was more than worth it to be here.”

“But, you shouldn’t miss practice! Your comeback is soon and this is something so small, it really doesn’t matter that much.” Your voice trailed off as Yeji squeezed your hands again. You looked at her, your heart melting at the soft smile that was on her face, along with the look of complete adoration in her eyes.

“But it matters to you. If it matters to you, then it is the most important thing in the world. I know that you were looking forward to showing me your art, and you support me all the time, it’s my job to do the same for you,” she explained, her voice warm and steady. Your arguments died in your throat as you let your joy spread to your face, a smile breaking onto your features. You hugged her again, quicker this time, before pulling her into the exhibit.

You walked around, observing the art and talking about the different artists and techniques used, until finally you came to your piece. Yeji let go of your hand, her eyes wide as she walked closer to it, as if in a trance, while you watched from the sidelines with a smile on your face.

Splashes of neutral colors were painted onto the canvas, the watercolor causing the paint to flow from one color to the other. A large tree stood in the background, the brown standing out against the black and gray night sky. Warm white lights were painting along the branches of the tree, the watercolor allowing them to look as though they were truly glowing steady and bright. In the middle of it all was a beautiful girl, your muse. She looked off into the distance, her sweater pulled up above her palms as she held them to her face for warmth. Her brown hair flowed around her shoulders, perfectly messy in the way that only the girl could pull off.

To anyone else, the painting might have looked simple: a girl by a tree at night. But Yeji instantly recognized the photo. It was one of your favorite photos that you had taken a few months into your relationship with Yeji. You had it as your phone wallpaper, and you always gushed about how the picture captured Yeji’s subtle beauty in the best way; you even said this was the night that you knew you truly and wholeheartedly loved Yeji.

Yeji turned to you, tears in her eyes as she looked back at the portrait, and then back at you. She rushed to you, pressing her lips to yours as she tried to convey all the love that she held for you. You kissed back, your own way of letting her know that you loved her too, and that this picture was just one way of how you showed that.

When she pulled away, she was giggling happily, a single tear streaking down her skin. You brushed it away with your thumb, smiling at her fondly.

“It’s me. You painted me,” Yeji said, her voice trembling as she smiled that smile that made her look just like a little kitten. You kissed her nose, nodding as you pulled back.

“Of course I did. You’re a work of art. I’m glad you think I captured your essence. I was worried you’d think I didn’t do you justice.” Yeji scoffed at your statement, rolling her eyes playfully.

“Didn’t do me justice? Y/N, you’ve painted me like an angel. You’ve done me the most justice than anyone could ever do,” she rambled, which caused you to laugh. She turned back to look it over again, before pulling out her phone to take a picture. Soon, she was typing away furiously, a mischievous smirk on her face. You raised an eyebrow as she tucked her phone back into her purse, a satisfied grin replacing the smirk as she took your hand again.

“What did you do?”

“I sent it to the Itzy groupchat. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t rub it in their faces that my partner made a masterpiece of me?” You laughed at her statement as she chuckled along with you.

“Now come on, I want to see the other art. Though, I doubt anything is gonna top yours.” You rolled your eyes softly, but couldn’t help but smile as she pulled you along gently, her hand in yours. 

Just the way it was meant to be.

[jaskierisbi]

lines and verses from every amazing devil song that hit

King

But our voices collide with each howl of the tide || Singing all hell and its fire waits for us

All that matters || Is that you’re here

Pruning Shears

My entire life it's running away too fast || Watching everyone I've ever loved walk past || Never really quite getting the knack of || Knowing no one will not || Ever come back for you

Shower Day

Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk past

You're the one who told me my hair looked better black || You're the one who told me to never look back || You're the one who asked me if I'm feeling ok || I said I'm fine || It's just a sitting down in the shower day

Leave the room but you get caught in the rain || Know you should love him but it's such a pain || Would have stayed if you'd had asked || But instead you just walk away

Elsa’s Song

I can hear the cannons calling || As though across a dream || And I can smell the smoke of hell || In every stitch and seam || And like flowers, the bodies tumble || Around this muddied lot || I cannot hear them scream || ‘Forget me not.’

Pray

Pray for me, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean || When they speak of sin

God made all man in his image || Honey I'm I'm I'm no man || I'm what’s left when children go to war

Run from you, I'll run until I begin to understand || What holy men really mean when they speak of sand and sons and seams and symphonies and sweat and sex and sin

Why you cannot sleep for sighing || Why womanhood is more than crying || I'm stronger now than you have ever known

The cracks you made I fill with mortar || A broken pot can still hold water || Symphonies and sweat and sex mean nothing when you are obsessed || With sin and soil and strength and song and all the words that came out wrong and him

Little Miss Why So

Did you tell them about the time we met little miss || You'll love the way I tell it || And I'll yell it from the rooftops for you || He says

He says || You're going too fast || You'll burn up soon

I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home || I don't know how to reach you when you get like this || I've been waiting for you to come home

Why won't you just tell them all to fuck off love and be mine

He says || Why so sad || I'm here and I'm alive || Stop making up death wishes and take my lifeline

Why won't you believe I love you if I'm not hurting you, he says || Can't you see that I'm enough for you but you don't want me to be || 'Cause that means you'll actually have to be content

Why so why so sad || Stop asking why I'm sad just know it's enough to know I'm sad

New York Torch Song

But your blood does not bleed red no more || It's whiter than the sun burns, bright with every hum || From within this gaping wound of ours || A new us has begun. A new us has begun. A new us has begun

Tear me up and burn me up and rip me up and leave your || Hand on the wall as you go

Are you god or devil, ghost dishevelled || Childhood friend or drunken revel

I cannot find the words to keep you || I cannot find the words to keep you

Two Minutes

It's like all the wallpaper inside my heart || Is slowly slowly peeling off || And I'm showing || All the stains and things || They wrote on the wall before

These hands are growing cold ||They're running out of things to hold || Give me two damn minutes and I'll be fine

If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || If I'm good will you come back || To us

Not Yet/Love Run

Sing me awake with a song about pirates || And I will try to harmonise || And sip the sunlight from your eyes || Oh sing me awake || With all the things we’ll do today || But instead we’ll build a den || Out of pillows and get drunk again

If my old mum could see me now || Oh how she’d howl she’d howl

Love run, love run || For all the things you’ve done || Run for all the things that drum || Run for all those pages thumbed

Love run, love run || For all the things we wished we’d done || Run from all you know that’s coming || Run to show that love’s worth running to

All that matters || Is that you're here ||All that matters

- - - - - - - - - -

The Rockrose and the Thistle

n/a sorry y’all

The Horror and the Wild

You are that space that’s in between every page, every chord and every screen || You are the driftwood and the rift, you’re the words that I promise I don’t mean

We’re drunk but drinking (sunk but sinking) || They thought us blind (we were just blinking)

Remember me I ask, remember me I sing || Give me back my heart you wingless thing

Think of all the horrors that I || Promised you I’d bring || I promise you, they’ll sing of every || Time you passed your fingers through my hair and called me child || Witness me, old man, I am the Wild

Wild Blue Yonder

So one last time, love, come and rip my clothes || Get a grip, we're grownups

Come and rip off my socks like you’re blasting the locks off of a bank vault. Halt! || This time we’re done for

Let’s hide under the covers || We don’t know what’s out there || Could be wolves || So hold me, lover, like you used to || So tight I’d bruise you || I’d bruise you, I’d bruise you too

Every stone you threw, I stood on to better see the view

Don't you ever wonder, what could have been? || All those wonders sit in wait for us, we tried

Every brick you hurled, I’ll use to build this world || This world, this world, this world

Welly Boots

And I love you, don’t you know || That I’ll be with you all along, as long as you are kind

And when you scream that it’s not fair || It’s like I’ve gone off to the coast || Left you behind just standing there || Pretending not to see your ghost || If only you could hear my voice || But you are screaming far too loud to hear me swear || Just because I left doesn’t mean that I’m not still there

'Cause you were always strong || When you were young, you’d kick things just to see if they would fall || They said ‘That girl, she’s wrong’ || But I’ll stick up for you, even though you haven’t got a clue, you haven't got a fucking clue

Farewell Wanderlust

He said ‘Hey darling hey, hey darling hey’ || I’m the hardest goodbye that you’ll ever have to say

I promise you I’ll be better || I promise you I’ll try || But like rubbing wine stains into rugs it’s my curse || To try and make it right, but by trying make it worse

I promise you I’m not broken || I promise you there’s more || More to come, more to reach for, more to hurl at the door

Goodbye to all my darkness, there’s nothing here but light || Adieu to all the faceless things that sleep with me at night || This here is not make up, it’s a porcelain tomb || And this here is not singing, I’m just screaming in tune

Fair

It’s what my heart just yearns to say || In ways that can’t be said || It’s what my rotting bones will sing || When the rest of me is dead || It’s what’s engraved upon my heart || In letters deeply worn || Today I somehow understand the reason I was born

She laughs as though she’s not heard the joke ten thousand times before || And he adores her, he watches her get dressed as though she’s hurtling through time

And she brushes her hand through his hair, he’s got so much fucking hair

And he holds her close just to keep the world at bay

"It’s not fair, it’s not fair how much I love you || It’s not fair, 'cause you make me laugh when I’m actually really fucking cross at you for something," || And he’ll say || "Oh how, oh how unreasonable || How unreasonably in love I am with everything you do || I spend my days so close to you 'cause if I’m standing here, maybe everyone will think I’m alright,"

'Cause darling I was born to press my head between your shoulder blades

And calm throughout his melodrama, she will turn and say || "Dear heart, it’s me, it's me || You don’t need to pretend to be someone you’re not || 'Cause it’s not like I’ve never heard you fart and snore || And for some godforsaken reason || I’m still here, love, like I’ve always been before,"

Burying her head into his chest and clinging to the moment || "Where have you been?" she’ll whisper || "I’ve waited oh so long for you to come" || And as the stars above them hum and hear them || He’ll turn to her and say, "That’s what she said"

That Unwanted Animal

You try so loud to love me || I cannot seem to hear || ‘Be good to me,’ I whisper || And you say ‘What?’ || And I say ‘Nothing dear’

I’m the paper cut that kills you || I’m the priest that you ignored || I’m the touch you crave, I’m the plans that you made, but fuck all your plans I’m bored

And you rip my ribcage open || And devour what’s truly yours

'Cause if we join our hands in prayer enough || To God I imagine it all starts to sound like applause

Marbles

And I chipped my teeth on every joke you cracked

You stole the best years of my life || I’ll give them back

'Cause I will wait and hope || Your eyes aren’t rivers there to weep || But a place for crows to rest their feet || And I will wait and hope || And rest my head at night content || Knowing where my marbles went

She sang, ‘Do you think I’m sexy?’ and oh god I really did

Oh, if one more guy calls me darling then I || Swear to you and to god I will murder them all

All the bastards applaud when I show that I’m flawed || You’re not flawed darling, you’re just a little under-rehearsed

I’ve loved you, for a hundred years || Certainly fucking feels like it

The minute I met you, the colours of my life began to pour

And now, even though you’re mad and these memories won’t stay || That's okay || 'Cause then I get to meet you for the first time every single day

Battle Cries

Tell the truth to me, love, does my hair look as nice || As it did when you once tangled up in your eyes? || Look at me as you say this, don’t look at your phone

‘Cause these plates they smash like waves || And the wine stains hide the tears || But that breathing you hear, don't mistake it for sighs || Don’t you realise? They’re just battle cries, dear

And these lines aren’t wrinkles, dear heart || They’re just dollops of paint on a new work of art

And as I walk away, I know I’ve been through the wars || But that creaking you hear in my bones is not pain, it’s applause

This isn’t a break up, dear heart, it’s a season finale

[neonponders]

Based on @lovebillyhargrove ‘s This Steve with This Billy. (original concept credit to @youfuckingdonut)

I’m having more success with mafia drabbles than my on-going mafia fics orz

• • • • • • •

Steve didn’t know what Billy’s job actually was.

He knew the guy wore nice shirts and nicer blazers, suit jackets, and tuxedo pieces. He knew Billy had to be either the boss or close to it, because he only wore the pieces of a full suit or tuxedo. Steve wouldn’t be surprised if he burned every tie he saw. Always had too many buttons undone.

But he looked good. And he knew he looked good. He walked right up to Steve waiting in line with Robin at a cafe before it closed. They’d gone to a nightclub at the absurd time of 8 o’clock. Hey, no door charge because they showed up so early. They were drunk off their ass and sweaty by 11pm. He called it an efficient night out.

“I’ve never been so happy to have a box of stale croissants in my life,” Robin mused as the tired barista used the tongs in the glass display case.

Steve bounced from foot to foot, still dancing to the bad radio pop overhead. He cracked open his juice from the chilled shelves, since asking for a coffee five minutes shy of closing might get a wad of spit mixed in - 

“You’re light on your feet.”

Steve didn’t think too heavily on it when he was drunk. Everyone was prettier when the brain behind the eyes was in some cups, just like all food tasted better. Maybe he should’ve devoted more brain cells to the moment. But that was a lost cause now.

He and Robin chatted and Steve apologized for his hand being wet with condensation and sweat when the guy offered a handshake. Even through the sparkly haze of alcohol, Steve could tell he gave Steve the time of day more than Robin, but they were on their way out anyway.

Steve might’ve said, “Well that was a great nightcap. He’s tasty,” a bit loud before the cafe door shut behind them. Robin coughed on her croissant and Steve guffawed and swiped it for himself before taking off down the street with her chasing after him.

But then Steve just kept running into him.

The guy from the cafe.

Walking into the park as Steve was leaving it. Strolling by the bank before Steve went inside.

With his designer clothes and his clean shoes and smooth, clean shaven jaw made ever so slightly tacky from skincare and lotion when it touched Steve’s face. Because he leaned too far forward over the table he was serving at his upscale restaurant job and

Time froze in a vacuum

Because Steve could’ve sworn he - Billy - lifted his face into the shadow of Steve’s neck. Inhaled.

It was a miracle he didn’t drop a plate or spill a glass. He dared the briefest glance but blue eyes pierced him regardless of the emotion behind them. Steve felt like a dagger tied on a string hung through his belly, lazily stirring his nerves and threatening to land dangerously in his groin.

He left the table before he made a fool of himself and all the company present. Large tables guaranteed large tips. He’d be set for the next month if he just didn’t fuck this up. He strode past the open-air kitchen and the ‘butler’s pantry’ area to hallway with the staff bathrooms -

Hands turned him around by his hips, surprisingly warm despite the thick poly-cotton of his white apron and the black slacks underneath.

The dagger fell.

The kiss was soft despite how ravenously Billy plundered his mouth. It was all Steve could do, to hold onto his nape and then wrap his arms behind Billy’s neck. He tasted like steak and amaretto and neutral sweet, like a man. Mewls and moans left Steve’s throat like he couldn’t stop them. Didn’t want to. Just wanted to drown in whatever this was.

Billy pivoted them so Steve pressed into the wallpaper. He hummed again as his hand found the clean shaven fade on the back of Billy’s head, his blunt fingertips petting and scratching there like he hadn’t known this man for more than an hour of collective encounters.

A sound left Billy’s chest. It hit Steve’s core like a pebble on a bell before he broke the kiss enough to meet Steve’s gaze. Clear blue eyes far more sober than Steve felt and probably looked. Wrecked with lust for this stranger who had money and means to always find him.

“A car’s going to pick you up later.”

Steve blinked with reticence, not wanting to leave this haze but already out of it.

“Get into the car.” The pad of Billy’s thumb touched Steve’s lip, light but insistent. He breathed, “Steve,” before leaving the hallway. Pleading. At least, Steve wanted it to be a plea.

But he was gone when Steve checked back at the table to top up waters and drinks. In singles and pairs, the group left until Steve was left to collect dishes and wonder who the hell managed their tabs. His manager answered that question for him moments later, by shoving a thick fold of cash into his apron pocket.

“Your tip from table twenty-three.”

“I didn’t see you get the bills,” he commented, intending to reach in and see what the high rollers tipped - 

She shoved his hands away from his pocket. “You don’t take money out in the open, silly. Get back to your locker for that.”

Steve knew he never saw her with a pile of receipt folders with credit cards sticking out of them. But he went back to work and didn’t take inventory of his tips until closing.

That table might’ve spent $1200 on dinner and drinks.

Steve got $1100 in tips. What kind of math that was, he didn’t know, but he couldn’t fixate on it too much, because inside the fold of money was a piece of paper with a phone number. No name. Steve could assume it to be Billy’s but he didn’t know...

Get into the car.

Steve zipped up his coat as he stepped out of the employees’ entrance. He emerged out of the service alleyway to...a regular city street. No cars more or less than normal, and none of them stood out...

Did he even want to get in?

He almost shook his head, just to jostle his thoughts around. “Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid,” he whispered to himself as he turned and marched his ass home. He didn’t know this guy: a person with a scary amount of recon on his life to be able to find him at any ol’ time. His dinner friends weren’t exactly a college reunion, either.

But he kissed like a god and tasted like one too.

He held Steve like he wanted him, and Christ, Steve wanted to be wanted.

The privilege of being craved.

He was wrist deep in shampoo with his eyes closed when he realized someone pounded on his apartment door. The panic of rinsing suds off his body as fast as possible, the terror of someone at his door at 2am, and the fury of pissing off his neighbors at 2am spurred him out of the shower and into a t-shirt on top of the towel around his waist.

God sure as hell could’ve been at his door and Steve would’ve answered it the same way.

“It’s 3am! Shut the hell up!” he hissed.

Billy looked equal measures of pissed and concerned, but he blinked and amusement crept in. He wore a long, swanky pea coat that looked soft to the touch. Steve was more preoccupied with moving out of his way when the guy strode right into his apartment.

“Why didn’t you let the car pick you up?” Billy’s gaze moved around the Spartan yet cluttered living room.

“Uh, I didn’t see one?” Steve sassed before he admitted, “Or...it’s a street? Lots of cars.”

Billy’s attention landed on him like he didn’t quite believe it. Steve stood in a towel with dripping hair, for god sake. Billy’s eyes raked over him as if he were putting together some pieces of a puzzle that Steve didn’t understand. Or was mundane life so difficult if you could just drop $1100?

Billy took his hands from his pockets and started removing buttery leather gloves. “Do you have a roommate?”

Steve felt like another dagger was about to fall, but where, he couldn’t tell. He inhaled and sighed, “No.”

“Who is that woman to you?”

Steve’s brows reached for his hairline. “You mean my best friend?” he challenged.

Billy laughed. Derisive and amused and...impressed? Relieved?

He threw his coat, jacket, and gloves on the IKEA couch and those hands found Steve’s waist again. “Billy?” he managed before he had those lips again. Before Billy’s hand found the base of his skull and encouraged him to tilt for better access.

Then Billy let a moan seep into his sigh. Their lips parted audibly and he breathed, “No one talks to me like you do. About me. To me. You-mmh.”

He took Steve’s lips again like he craved. Steve shivered against his erection brushing against the fibers of his towel.

“Can I finish my shower?”

“No,” he purred darkly, arm locking behind Steve’s waist as the other pressed a rolling hand to Steve’s front.

He trembled through a broken shout, panting against Billy’s lips and jaw, gripping his silk shirt at the risk of scratching the threads. Billy licked over Steve’s lips, and Steve was dangerously close to cumming right there.

“Billy...” he whined. He warned.

Bright eyes gazed steadily at him through hooded, dark lashes. “Keep saying my name like that. I’ll give you everything.”

[softlyjiminie]

cherry glosses n car washes | j.j.k

⇢ pairing(s): goth!jeon jungkook x sorority sister!reader.

⇢ word count: 7K.

⇢ rating: 18+, mature.

⇢ genre: pwp, smut, fluff, college!au, sorority!au.

⇢ summary: in the blistering heat of the summer sun, a bikini carwash is the last place you’d expect to find tattoo bearing, black sweater wearing jeon jungkook. but then again, no one expected to find him dating everyone’s beloved sorority queen YN LN either. in all honesty, he only really came to support her…but most definitely in more ways than one.

⇢ warning(s): please read! brief fight scene, heavy smut, pwp, switch!jungkook, switch!reader, oral sex (male receiving.), oral fixation, fingering, handjobs, heavy!exhibitionism, dirty talk, overstimulation, male masturbation, cumplay, creampie, unprotected sex - please wear protection!

⇢ author’s note(s): hello my loves! happy august! i hope you all are having a beautiful summer! the time has finally arrived for this cheeky fic, read with caution! extreeeme jk spice up ahead. ( thank you to @bangtan-headquarters for allowing me to participate in their Bangtan Boardwalk Collab Event! )

everyone knows who YN LN is. some know you as a daughter, a friend but to everyone at alpha delta pi, you were sister. you were a kind to all, taking care of your peers in your sorority, whether that be during times of hardship or just needing a simple friend to pull through. no person went untouched by your bright light, no person went without your cheery smiles and soft spoken voice, through cherry glossed lips and under peach blush.  you made friends everywhere you went, entrancing them with sparkling eyes and a soft cherry blossom scent— and although you denied it, you were everything everyone wanted to be; smart, pretty, popular— you were living the dream.

but then there was your dream...jeon jungkook.

with dark ink tattoos of guns and roses spiralling down his arms and intertwining with his finger tips, long, thick hair and more piercings than you could count, jeon jungkook was the epitome of college bad boy. your boyfriend was the complete opposite of yourself, trading out any colour for black sweatshirts and heavy combat boots, grazed knuckles and a pierced lip that contrasted with the bubblegum pink shirts you wore every wednesday because your sorority was obsessed with early 2000s movies and yelling ‘you can’t sit with us!’ to jocks across the quad.  

jungkook liked rock music, his motorbike named missy, painting his nails black and writing songs with his little band ( the weeping kittens, which you always found absolutely morbid but loved anyways ) whilst you liked collecting sparkly lipgloss and pretty stationary kits and those sanrio stickers that you liked to put on jungkook’s phone case sometimes. it was a wonder to anyone on campus how you got together, and to say they were intrigued was an understatement.

but you loved him for who he was, even with all of his odd little tendencies; like wearing black in the summer and scrunching his nose up when he laughed too hard, or how he used your hair clips to hold his hair back when he was concentrating. you liked that he quiet in class but loud and giggly with you, soft and sensitive, snarky and sweet. jungkook wasn’t like anyone you’d ever met, not like jung hoseok from your brother frat— who all your friends thought you’d end up with. of course, you’d flirted with the jock once or twice at parties but he hadn’t stolen your heart that night in sophomore year when jungkook stole your kisses in the back of his yoongi hyung’s van.

and although your friends still try to set you two up, jung hoseok will never be your jeon jungkook— there just isn’t anyone else like him.

that’s why you wear his oversized black AC/DC shirt that differs very much from the pink interior of your room, decorated by your roommate in the sorority house on campus. you didn’t have the heart to tell aerum that the feathers above your bed made you sneeze in your sleep, or that her choice of wallpaper sometimes made you woozy and that you’d much rather a less...bedazzled look; so you let her decorate as she pleases, with only a few hums in of agreement when she changes the settings on the LED lights every week. it’s only now that you realise how blistering this summer is, so you have the air con turned up to the max— goosebumps rising on your bare legs as you chat to your boyfriend of a year over facetime about you’re upcoming philanthropy project.

‘a bikini car wash, huh? like in those teen romcom movies you make me watch?”

your boyfriend mumbles absentmindedly—jungkook has his phone propped up against something, giving you a full view of his perfectly toned body as he strums away at his guitar— he claims he’s writing you another song, the lyrics purely focused on your pink skirts and cherry vanilla chapstick, but your concentration slips as you watch his inked fingers tug at his guitar strings...thinking about the way they’d curl around your throat or slip into the warmth of your mouth and press down against your pink tongue.

your lover glances up from playing for just a brief moment, the corner of his red lips twitching up into a brilliant smile when he catches you looking. ‘dollface, you’re staring.’ he whispers smugly, quirking his pierced brow at you and you struggle to hide the warm blush that blooms across the apples of your cheeks and neck.

“no i’m not.”

‘don’t be a brat, you know you are.’

you whine at his scolding tone, rolling over on your disney printed bed sheets because after all, you’re still a little girl... or his little girl as jungkook would put it. he makes a low noise in his throat, finally putting down his god forsaken instrument so he can pay attention to you, before sitting back in his seat expectantly. “are you sure you don’t wanna come? we’re raising money for a good cause!” you try again, jutting out your bottom lip in full pouty mode as you bat your eyelashes up at him. you’d been trying to convince jungkook to come to your philanthropy event for at least a week— the aforementioned car wash that was happening tomorrow— but whenever you brought it up, his gaze would drop and he’d fall quiet. “we’re donating all the proceeds to food shelters...”

‘i don’t know, YN...’

“i even got a new bikini, i wanna show it off for you!”

‘angel...’ your boyfriend sighs, running a hand through his midnight locks with the lightest hints of frustration. you deflate immediately, dropping the topic in favour for not pushing him any further. you don’t mean to upset him, you just really want him there so you can show him off and gush about how much you love him— the thought itself has your pout deepening before you know it. ‘come on now dollface don’t make that face, you know i can’t help myself when you make that face...’

this much is true, you know that no matter what you’re doing, if you make that face— jungkook’s a goner. “meh...” your voice is quiet and muffled from where you’ve shoved your face into the sheets to hide from jungkook, because you know that you’ll melt if you look at him. you don’t know what it was about him, but your lover always had a way of making you feel small in the best of ways. despite his quiet personality, jungkook was very domineering inside and outside of the bedroom, he cared for you like no other, protected you like no other. he wasn’t one to take advantage your kindness and he wasn’t about to let anyone else do the same so perhaps that’s also why you fell for him.

jungkook hums, leaning into the camera to get a better look at you. ‘it’s not that i don’t want to come and support you baby... i’m just worried that you’ll be exposed too much and—’  he lowers his voice, so you feel as if he’s lying right next to, causing you whimper out for him. the boy tuts, a lazy smile painting his lips as he looks at you with all the love in his eyes. ‘—and god as much as i’d love to see you show off your little outfit for me, i’m not so sure i’d fit in with your...crowd of friends...’ you nod your head slowly in understanding, because as much as you loved the girls in your sorority, they had a knack for making jungkook feel like he didn’t deserve you, purely because he was different from your usual type and jungkook was always too shy and introverted to say anything. you hated that he couldn’t feel comfortable around your friends like you could with his— so you couldn’t blame him for not wanting to come around.

“s’ okay googie,” you hum, curling into a ball on your bed as he laughs at your pet name for him. “i’ll just have to show it to you another time.”

‘another time it is, dollface.’ jungkook repeats, pretending to boop your nose through the screen. you talk for a little while longer before the members of the weeping kittens come in and interrupt your facetime call.  the band consists of four members; yoongi the drummer, namjoon the guitarist , jimin the bassist and jungkook, of course, lead singer and guitarist number two. the older two occupy themselves with teasing your boyfriend, poking his cheeks and singing old playground songs ( “YN and jungkook sitting in the tree K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”) whilst jimin clings to the youngest like a baby and if you hadn’t known better, you’d have thought that the purple haired male was the baby of the group.  

jungkook’s cheeks flush a deep crimson when you decide to play along, wishing him a goodnight that makes his face ripple with cringe. “sleep tight googie-poo,” you coo with a sing song tone, finally sitting up to blow him a kiss. the other members shriek with laughter, ruffling their little junggoogie’s mop of dark hair as you tease him for them to see. “i love youuu!”

‘goodnight angel-bear,’ jungkook says quietly, gritting his teeth has he sinks into his sweater to hide his embarrassment. you know his reaction is more of a result of his hyung’s teasing— he claims he can’t sleep well without saying goodnight in your special way. ‘i love you too...’ he mumbles, giving you a shy smile before hanging up the call, leaving you to fall asleep with an equally wide smile.

“there you go, joongie, hope she’s clean enough for you!”

you grin as you wipe the remaining sudds off of hongjoong’s bright red vintage car that you’re sure he spent all of his college loans on. nonetheless, you take the twenty he offers you from his wound down window and ruffle his matching strawberry hair. “thanks YN-ah,” he giggles, turning away from you for a brief second to tuck his wallet away, he briefly smacks his friend ( mingi ) on the thigh for staring at your boobs — and you can’t blame him, you love those girls — before offering you a bright smile. “you guys did a great job on her.”

you thank him once again, winking at mingi with a sly smile before waving the boys off and waiting for the next customer. the bikini car wash your sorority has set up is booming with business, students from across campus driving in to get their cars cleaned. some of the girls on the committee ordered in pink and white balloons to hang outside your dorm house, with a handmade sign saying ‘alpha delta pi wash!’ painted in pastel shades. your girls are having a great time too, looking stunning in all types of bathing suits that show off their beautiful bodies under  golden rays, splashing each other with soapy water to ease the burn of the summer sun against their skin.

you quite like the little number you’re wearing too, a pale pink two piece with obsidian black accents and panelling at either side. you wave to some of the girls as you head over to your booth to count the cash you’ve made so far, when the familiar sound of rowdy cheers and hollering boys fills the air. barely glancing up from your work, you note the excited squeals of younger members of your sorority— already tripping over their flip flops to get a taste of the frat boys that take over your car wash.

“what does a guy have to do to get his car washed around here?”

rolling your eyes, you close the catch box with a drawn out sigh— picking up your gaze to meet that of jung hoseok’s. he stands half a head taller than you, chocolate brown hair parted and pushed back from his forehead, he wears the typical varsity jacket and baseball cap combo, paired with blue jeans and his signature chunky trainers. you wouldn’t lie and say that hoseok wasn’t attractive because you’d messed about with him once or twice before, but now he couldn’t seem to understand the boundaries of your blossoming relationship with jungkook. “pay thirteen bucks and use some manners?” your question is more of a statement, with you not in the mood to deal with a cocky frat boy who thinks he’s entitled to your service. the brunette looks taken a back, not used to your snarky attitude with him, but today was not a day for you to be messed with, all you wanted was to raise money for a good cause and have fun, not deal with assholes like him. nonetheless, the jock hands you his donation with a smirk as you whistle over one of the girls to help him.

“hyeri, you don’t mind helping hoseok over here do you—?”

“no,” hoseok cuts in, stepping between yourself and the older girl— stopping her from taking the equipment she needs to clean his car. you roll your shoulders, a light sweat dripping between their blades as frustration builds up within your temple— dealing with hoseok is bothersome and all you want is to relax and let lose. the brunette steps closer to you, and hyeri watches with blushing cheeks, the short, red head almost wishing she was in your position— her flustered attitude only inflating the boy’s ego. so entitled. hoseok was so so entitled. thinking that he could get anything he wanted from any girl just because he was pretty, and maybe that was the reason why he liked you so much— because you resisted him. “i want you to do it, YN, wash my car for me princess? please?”

scoffing, you cross your arms and send an apologetic look to the bumbling mess that is now hyeri. “book him a slot for me, love? i’ll let you help?” you ask softly to which she nods her head and runs off to take a note. hoseok smiles triumphantly but his win is quickly shot down by the glare you send him, and if looks could kill, he’d be six feet under. “you know it’s gonna cost you extra for even having me near you, right?”

“that’s an extra cost i’m will to pay...” the boy hums, smirk finding its way onto his lips once again, as he hands you another twenty before heading back to his car full of idiots. relieved that he’s gone ( for the time being ) you release a breath you hadn’t realised you were holding and head off to grab an extra bucket and sponge to clean hoseok’s obnoxiously bright yellow ferrari, but not before you take a second to reapply a layer of your favourite cherry gloss that had faded during the day.

you miss the recognisable sound of yoongi’s truck while your back is turned to the hustle and bustle of your event, so your skin jumps with goosebumps when a familiar pair of arms wrap around your bare waist. “guess who?” a soothing voice whispers into your ear, causing a light giggle to pass between your freshly glossed lips.

“let me think, is it mr. tall dark and handsome?” you tease, squealing as jungkook picks you up and spins you in his arms. before he’s even set you back onto your feet, your boyfriend attacks your face with soft kisses while tugging you into him.  “you came!” you beam, once jungkook finally allows you to pull away— using an inked finger to trace patters on the small of your back. hums of approval sound from the bottom your throat while your stresses melt away, your boyfriend’s presence easily calming you down.

jungkook nods, a small smile tickling the corners of his pierced lips as he tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear and presses your foreheads together. “i realised that i was being stupid,” the guitarist mumbles, lips only inches away from your own— you’re so close that you can feel the warmth of his breath against your skin and his own body heat radiating against yours. although your foreheads are growing sticky from sweat ( a result of the intense summer heat ), you don’t mind, loving being in close proximity to your lover.  “i shouldn’t let the fact that we have different friends stop me from showing my support, i shouldn’t be one to judge your events or say i think you’re exposing yourself— because this is your body and your choice and i’m so proud of you, sorry for being a dumb boy.”

you boop his nose, heart melting at your boyfriend’s words and even more when he scrunches his nose under your touch. “but you’re my dumb boy,” you add, teasing him slightly as you lean up to brush your lips against his. from the outside, it would appear that jungkook would always be the one to make you flustered— so it amused you when your larger, much more intimidating boyfriend blushed under the slightest touches from you. he puckers his lips, awaiting your kiss only for you to nip at his earlobe and whisper. “now how may i help you today?”

pulling away, you can see jungkook shyly curling in on himself— beyond flustered by your actions. his brown doe eyes avoid your gaze while his fingers slip into the sleeves of his black sweater as if he’s hiding. “i uh, also came to get yoongi hyung’s truck washed... he’s not happy with the state we left it in last time,” your lover mumbles quietly, and now you understand why he’s acting more shy than usual.

with bubbling laugher, you reach onto your tippy toes to ruffle jungkook’s long black locks— effectively moving them out of place. “i can help with that, koo,” you tease and pinch his cheeks as you return to your normal height. “but i can’t promise it’ll be any cleaner than last time—“ jungkook tugs you into his chest once more, opening his mouth  to speak, when a car begins honking from your left. you huff, pushing your head into your boyfriend’s broad chest while you grip his sweater. “it’s hoseok...i’m sorry.”

jungkook shakes his head, offering you one of his beautiful bunny smiles before he leans down and captures your bottom lip between his teeth. his deep caramel eyes are locked onto yours before he grasps your cheeks and kisses you fully, tongue slotting perfectly against yours as they battle in a light dance for passion. but as soon as the kiss comes, it’s over, jungkook releasing you while you stand dazed to process what happened. your boyfriend was never one for PDA but you definitely notice how he smirks and revels in the cheers you both get, sending heat straight down to your core and making a light slick pool between your thighs. cheeky bastard. the boy salutes you as he lets you go, allowing you to run off to hoseok’s car while someone else books your lover in, before he heads back over to the truck. you make quick work of building up the suds for washing the car, dipping your sponge into the soapy water as you work on the hood— deciding now of all times, would be an ample opportunity to tease him. in the meantime the guitarist makes himself comfortable in the drivers seat of yoongi’s truck, watching you get to work— and it’s not long before he notices little things about you, like how you lean over hoseok’s car a little more, drawing attention to the curve of your ass or how you purposely drench yourself with the crisp, clear and cool soapy water when you ring out each sponge.

suddenly, jungkook’s pants begin to grow tight and his senses kick into overdrive as he becomes increasingly aware of the show you’re putting on for him. the boy knows what you’re doing, from the way you look at him from over your shoulder, to the spark in your eyes and the way you lick your cherry gloss lips. jungkook’s body acts for him, hand sliding down to the buckle of his pants as he slowly undoes it— his cock is half hard in his briefs just from watching you. he hisses when he grabs his length, pumping it slowly. jungkook feels wrong, dirty for touching himself in public, let alone in his hyung’s van but he can never help himself when it comes to you— so he almost whimpers when you lean over to soap up hoseok’s window and give him a full view of your breasts in the little pink bralette  you wear.

the guitarist thanks his luck that his dark sweater covers his dirty work, thrusting he shallowly into his hand— imagining that it’s your cute little pussy clenching around him. the warmth of need bursting in his chest because god, you look so good and he knows you’ll sound better when you’re underneath him. squeezing his cock, jungkook let’s a low groan rumble in his chest— fingertips just brushing at his orgasm.

but the euphoria of his release is suddenly ripped away from him when another girl he recognises as your roommate, areum, from the nights he visits you at the house— knocks on his window. jungkook tears his hands from his pants and gives the girl a smile, driving over to get the truck washed just as you finish up with hoseok. you smile at the job you’ve done and the way the frat member’s car shines as you dry up your hands. right when you’re about to leave to find jungkook, hoseok slips from his vehicle and grabs your wrist so that your attention is turned to him.

“she looks great, YN... thanks for cleaning her up,” hoseok praises you, leaning back against his precious yellow ferrari that you’re sure is loaned ( because realistically what college student could  afford such a fancy car ), you blink, appreciative of his thanks and nod your head but your mind is too hazy from the looks your guitarist lover was giving you earlier. you know he’s beyond turned on at this point and your mouth almost waters from the thought of him taking you right there, right now. “is there any way i can repay you?”

you snap out of your thoughts, tugging your wrist from hoseok’s grip and smiling at him sweetly— hoping that it speeds up your interaction so you can return to your boyfriend. “you already paid.” you mumble bluntly, turning to leave once more before you’re pulled back into the taller male’s grasp.

“why so distant YN-ah? let me take you out to say thanks?”

“let me go hoseok.” you warn, growling out your words. it’s like he couldn’t understand, that he was incapable of realising that you just weren’t interested in him like that anymore. your eyes and heart were set on jungkook, your days flirting and messing about with boys from the neighbouring frat were over and you didn’t care what people thought of your new relationship. yes, jungkook wasn’t  your usual, conventional type but he was yours. your shy, emo, inked, pierced pretty boy.

“just think about it...” the boy pushes for you to consider it, pulling you into him by the hips as the pads of his fingers sink into your naked skin.

“hoseok.” you repeat, your tone much harsher this time as you push him back by his shoulders.

“just let me—“

the wind is knocked out of you before you have a chance to retort, as you’re yanked free from hoseok’s burning grip into a warm and familiar embrace. you immediately recognise jungkook’s sweet, floral scent and cast your gaze upwards, his sharp jaw is clenched, pierced nose is flared and skin shines under the sun from his light perspiration. you’ve never seen him so angry before, at least not in public. jungkook has never been one to start fights or initiate major PDA in front of anyone, so his attitude today... shocks you. “are you dumb, stupid, or is it both?” your boyfriend spits, anger at hot as the sun that beats down on you. his large palms that hold onto your waist tighten and his possessiveness starts to make you light headed with want. you don’t know if it’s the fact that you’re both angry or that jungkook never gets this pissed but you feel the same wetness from earlier begin to gather in your panties. “shit man,” jungkook continues as a crowd begins to gather. “when a girl says to fuck off, you fuck off, especially when she’s taken.”

your pupils blow wide, gaze flickering over to hoseok who’s chest rises and falls with a mix of embarrassment and anger. you can’t tell which is the more domineering emotion. “and what if i don’t ‘fuck off’ what are you gonna do about it freak? we both know she deserves better than you.” hoseok goes for a low blow, eliciting a chorus of ‘ooo’s and ‘fight! fight! fight!’s from the group that surrounds you and his car. your boyfriend clenches his teeth ready to to spit out another comeback when you detangle yourself from his grip and knee hoseok in the dick before giving him a good old sucker punch— watching with a satisfied glossy grin as he doubles over in pain.

“YN, you bitch!” he cries out in pain, and you’re about to swing again when jungkook lifts you by your hips— legs kicking and arms flailing just to get another taste. once you’re a fair distance away, your boyfriend sets you down as you shake out your hand— knuckles barley bruised from the punch and you know that your lover is impressed ( and maybe just a little more turned on ).

hoseok’s frat brothers help him clear up his bloody nose while girls fawn over the poor thing. you’re not surprised when hyeri gives you a disappointed look, punishing you with the task of cleaning the interior of the douche’s car whilst the sorority takes a lunch break. something about repaying him for almost breaking his nose. you don’t mind though, you were far too hungry for something else.

“that was hot,” jungkook mumbles against your neck after everyone’s gone, he’s got you pressed against the door of yoongi’s truck— thigh between your legs and lips barley touching your neck. you moan lowly, feeling your hips naturally grind down against the meat of your boyfriend’s thigh whilst slick gathers at your entrance.   the combat jeans he wears are a rough polyester, only adding to your stimulation but you’re beyond turned on at this point, not caring if anyone sees. not that they will, the car wash is closed while everyone’s on break, so you have time to kill. “the way you sucker punched him like that, god i don’t think my dick’s ever gotten that hard that fast...”

your laughter falls into an airy moan, as your fingers dance their way down from jungkook’s sweaty hair to push at his sweater. you wonder how he’s not burning in the thing with how thick it is, not to mention how black clothes attract heat but you don’t question it, only knowing one thing and one thing only. that you want it off. “don’t lie to me googie,” you whine when he pulls away to rid himself of the ghastly article of clothing— a different type of heat building in your core. “saw you watchin’ me wash hoseok’s car earlier, bet you were painfully hard just sitting there knowing you couldn’t touch me,” you breathe, enjoying the way he twitches in your grasp as you yank him up for a blazing kiss. his strawberry tongue swipes over your lips to taste the cherry they have painted on and the flavour bursts in your mouth as he forces your lips apart and tangles his tongue with yours. when he pulls away, only a trail of saliva connects you both, making you both groan in unison. “were you touching yourself, baby?” you ask breathlessly, forcing your head back against the cool surface of the truck.

“fuck, angel face...” jungkook hisses at your lewd words, hips stuttering when you grab his growing bulge through his jeans. “h-how’d you know?

“i just know you.”

your boyfriend presses his lips to yours once again, fingers diving down to pinch your clit over the panties of your bikini— making you squeal with pleasure. jungkook swallows each and every one of your noises, hands trailing up and down your body until the slide under your bralette where inked fingers pull at your nipples and squeeze at your breasts. the peaks harden under jungkook’s touch, which is surprisingly cool despite the weather and you arch your back into him— desperate for more.

“let me feel you,” he finally says, sounding just as desperate as you and you nod, letting jungkook drop your feet to the ground gently and shove his shirt into the front of yoongi’s freshly cleaned truck. the guitarist is about to open the door for you when an idea pops into your head. pulling jungkook’s arm, you point over to the piercing yellow ferrari on the other side of of the lot outside of your sorority’s house and his face falls. within an instant, the key’s of hoseok’s car are back in your hand (after an hour of cleaning it) and jungkook is lowering you onto it’s hood. “want me to fuck you here, dollface? for everyone to see?”

you nod your head, a series of incoherent babbles falling from between your lips as you stare up your boyfriend with a hazy look in your eye— a look that drives him wild. jungkook strips you of your bralette and takes a breast into his mouth, sucking and licking and biting like a man devouring his last meal. you have no choice but to take what he gives you, closing your eyes to the melody of wet, sloppy sounds as his warm tongue swirls around each bud— contrasting with the cold metal of hoseok’s car beneath you. his freehand tweaks your other nipple before dancing down to between your legs as he pushes your thighs further apart. wetness pours from your burning entrance, causing your panties to stick deliciously to your pussy and jungkook groans around your second breast ( having switched between the two ) before he slides his two fingers past the flimsy pink material to circle your dripping hole.

“please koo, finger me...fuck me!” you cry desperately, writhing against the expensive car that your pussy drools onto.    he groans, wasting no more time as he pushes his tattooed digits into your tight cunt, you whimper as he grinds his palm against your clit with every thrust of his fingers inside of you— dragging his finger tips against your needy walls as your eyes threaten to flutter shut from bliss.

your boyfriend tuts from your breast, standing straight to lean over you while more of your juices splatter lewdly against the hood of hoseok’s car. “nonono, angel, eyes open, want you to look at me as i stretch you open on this fucker’s car, yeah?” he pants, curling the fingers he has buried in your pussy so that they catch deliciously on that one spot. your bleary eyes focus on one thing and one thing only, your lover. the way that his lips shine under the sun with smears of your cherry lip gloss, and the way that his dark eyes shift to lighter shades of coffee brown in the sunlight— the way his strawberry lips are caught between his teeth as he pleasures you and your heart bursts with adoration. “that’s my good girl...” he mumbles, voice gravelly with need when he notices your open doe eyes.

with uncoordinated movements, you manage to tackle the buttons of jungkook’s pants, pulling his painfully hard cock free from its material confines. he practically whimpers when your burning palm comes into contact with his weighty length, his tip bright red and glistening with need. “feel good baby?” you ask him while doing your best to pump him in time with the thrusts of your fingers, creating the illusion of him being inside of you. jungkook leaks endless amounts of precum, eyes scrunching shut as he grows closer to his orgasm.

jungkook buries his mop of midnight hair into the crook of of your neck, kissing at the skin there. “d-didn’t finish earlier...” he stammers, thrusting his length into your grip. “if you don’t stop i’m gonna cum before being inside you...” he wastes no more time, pushing your pretty pink panties aside and slapping is leaking tip against your glistening pussy— teasing you both even though you’ve been craving each other all day. his strong, tattooed arms hook around your legs, bringing you closer to him as he finally pushes his cock past your entrance— you hiss in unison as his weighty length sits within you and you dig your heels into the small of his back to prompt him to move. “shit...angel, dreamed of this pussy all day...”

“then take it jungkook, take me like you mean it,” you almost scream, wrapping your arms around his shoulders to pull him impossibly closer. your nails dig crescent moons into his blemished, freckled skin as he circles his hips and drills is cock into you, tip rubbing against your fiery walls while you clamp down on him. your cunt selfishly sucks him in as you find the strength within you to lift your hips and meet his thrusts— loving the way he feels and the burn of his fat cock stretching you open. the air between you seems heavier, hotter as the sun shines brightly above you— your perspiration clouding the glimmer on the hood of hoseok’s car as mix of your arousals smear across the honey yellow paint. you’re messy, dirty, tainting hoseok’s car as jungkook fucks into you with wanton— chasing the release that’s been building in his stomach all day.

you love it though, the way he wrecks your little hole out in broad daylight for everyone to see if they wanted— the sounds of his hips slamming against yours filling the empty lot in front of your sorority. anyone could come back now and see you taking his cock, and the thought makes your pussy gush with sweet, hot nectar. “your cunt is so greedy, swallowing my cock whole,” jungkook reminds you, pushing his cock into your womb until he reaches the hilt. “you must like me taking you in public huh?” he speaks your thoughts, moaning heavily as you squeeze around his length with every word, your juices wetting him more. jungkook presses down on your tummy and you watch with awe as it bulges slightly— his hips never easing up as he pushes himself impossibly deeper inside of you. “god angel face, would you look at that, look at me inside of you.”

“you’re so big,” you praise from underneath him, gasping as he grinds himself into you— harsh material of his jeans brushing against your sensitive clit. you play a game of back and forth, pushing your hips against each other with every turn until jungkook picks up the pace again, a knot in your stomach begins to form— your orgasm sneaking up behind you as your pussy weeps and cries, painting the front of jungkook’s jeans as well as your pretty thighs. “wanna cum on this thick cock of yours koo, make me cum please please...”

“you’re driving me insane dollface,” jungkook comments through gritted teeth, pounding into you now at a relentless pace— you can feel every vein and ridge of his cock against your walls, causing your jaw to go slack as you drip endlessly. he shuts your pleas up with the two fingers in your mouth letting you taste the remains of your essence. your boyfriend only manages a few more thrusts before you’re falling limp against him with new colours flashing behind your eyes as cream against his cock. jungkook rides out your high, hitting your g-spot over and over and almost reaches his climax when you hear someone’s footsteps against the gravel. eyes widening jungkook pulls your weak frame into his chest, using the discarded keys to open hoseok’s car door before bringing you inside. your heart thumps as you spot a sister from your sorority in the side mirrors, she seems to be looking for something but for now, you remain out of view.

with that in mind, you push yourself out of jungkook’s iron grip— knowing full well that he still hasn’t cum. ignoring your boyfriend’s nervous and confused expression along with the thumping in your chest, you drop to your knees, paying no mind to the burn the gravel causes against them. “YN, what are you—?” jungkook never finishes his question as you brace yourself on his thighs, giving sweet kitten licks to his tip before taking him into your mouth. you won’t need to do much work, he’s already close and you can tell from the way his abs clench and his fingers weave their way into your hair. your free hands pump what doesn’t fit into your hot mouth, as you drool on his cock and spit gathers on your chin.

your boyfriend whimpers quietly in the front passenger seat and you slap his inner thighs when the girl walks past. you spare a glance to the mirrors once more, swirling your tongue around your lover’s length as he strains to hold in his moans. he whispers ‘pleases’ under his breath, begging you to let him cum...so once the footsteps retreat and disappear completely, you tap his thigh once and jungkook immediately bucks his hips. your jaw falls lax as he thrusts into your mouth as if it were your tight heat, desperately chasing the release he’s been waiting for all day. “fuck, fuck, shit!” he curses as your throat tightens around his length, causing him to spill his seed into your mouth. you swallow gratefully, only pulling away to show him the mess he made of your tongue before letting him pull you onto his lap. “such a dirty girl, sucking me off like that with people around...”

“you loved it,” you tease, twirling his long hair between your fingers as he kisses down the valley between your breasts.

“would have loved to cum inside you, more.”

you straddle jungkook’s lap, letting his half hard cock brush against your soaked panties as you grind down on him. “then let me make you cum again; let me ride you.” you state more so than ask, taking his hands into yours and intertwining your fingers. jungkook looks up at you with bright starry eyes, and you lose yourself within their constellations— you loved him, you knew that and no one would change that. the mood slips into something softer and you’re no longer in a rush to ruin hoseok’s car, instead you take your time easing yourself down onto your love’s length as it hardens with each stroke of your hips.

neither of you will last long this time, sensitive from your previous releases but that doesn’t stop you from slowly lifting your hips and bringing them back down to start a steady pace. the length of jungkook’s weighty girth, drags along your velvet walls with each rock of his hips into yours, sending tingles of pleasure down your spend. he lets go of your right hand, using his large inked palm to grab at your waist, guiding you into him in away that makes him whine. he moves onto your ass, squeezing the peachy flesh as you bounce on him, launching you both into new realms of pleasure.

“love that ass baby, how good it looks in this little set,” jungkook whimpers against your sweat slicked skin, closing his eyes to tune into the sounds of your angelic moans and wetness against his dick. “always so pretty for me...”

you swivel your hips in soft circles, clamping down on your lover with each word of praise as he sucks blues and indigos and violets between your breasts, his mouth salivating from watching them bounce with every thrust into your tight heat. he worships you under the golden sun, heated bodies moving together as you both work towards release. “it’s all yours, koo,” you cry, biting your cherry lips— bitten red and swollen from kisses your lover used to soothe your cries of wanton. “i’m all yours.” you add before he’s wrapping an arm around your waist and you’re pulling him by the hair to yank him into another sweet kiss, tasting traces of your gloss on his pinkish lips.

“mine.” jungkook claims your mouth as his, as you squeeze and clench and clamp around his girth, tears beginning to roll as your high approaches. the guitarist doesn’t up, letting you swallow his whines as the sensitivity grows too much, the tip of his length hitting that one spot over and over again while you push your hips down to meet his every thrust.

“look me in the eyes when you cum with me.” you growl to him, freeing your hands to cup his cheeks— lips tingling and cunt spasming. jungkook can barely nod but he obliges, deep brown eyes pulling you in as his warm breath fans across your face. you drown in his eyes, falling under as the knot in your stomach finally snaps— your hips falter as you cling to jungkook with all you have, release glazing his cock until he fills you with his creamy essence. your fingers massage his wet scalp while you bury your face into his neck, hearing him whimper and cry out as he fills you over and over again.

eventually, the sensitivity grows too much and jungkook pulls out of you with small moans, fingers finding your messy entrance as a mix of your arousals drips onto the leather seats. “i love you, angel face...so fucking much,” he finally says with glossy eyes and a tiny smile, dipping his finger into your leaking hole and smearing the evidence of your rendezvous against your lips.

“and i love you, more than anything.” you hum back, licking the sweet and salty sheen from your lips before mirroring your lovers smile because all though he’d rubbed of your cherry gloss, jungkook’s cum was the next best thing.

⇢ taglist !

@periminkle @singular-itae @ggukkieland @preciouschimime @ultraanonymousey @aishots @yiyibetch @luvrssunrise @uyyugukkie​ @10cm​ @4gustdx​ @codeinebelle​ @itssmarla​ @http-je0n​

[meat--grindr]

I can request a story of Yandere Brahms with his reader, where Brahms kidnaps the reader by taking her inside the walls of the Mansion to be loved and protected. How did you come to this situation, maybe you can have a little NFSW?

Ahh, Brahms. How I love him so. I just wanted to let you know before we get into anything too serious, that this might be a little different than you were expecting, and for that I’m going to apologize right off the bat. I’ll admit I’m a massive weeb, but I never really saw the appeal of yanderes. Cringe, I know. So, I’m going to do my best here and take yandere more as ‘possessive’ if that’s alright? Also, I took some liberties with ‘kidnapping’ as you’ll see, just because I don’t want to walk too far into non-consensual territory when there’s NSFW involved. I don’t want to write anything explicitly non-consensual here, so it was a fine line to walk, but I think I found an okay solution. If this isn’t at all what you’re looking for, maybe drop me a PM and we can try to work something out? Anyway have like 5000-ish words of Brahms smut :)

Possessive (Yandere [?] Brahms (Female Reader) – NSFW

·       Standing at the foot of the stairs, you are struck, though certainly not for the first time, by the beauty of the house in which you find yourself. The golden hue of the wood which panels the walls reflect and amplify the soft glow emanating from beneath frosted glass lampshades. The diffused amber glow is cast about the room, throwing elongated shadows against the walls and into the far corners. From your place at the very bottom of the stairwell, the ceiling, now several floors above you, is lost to the early darkness of a winter evening.

·       Through the window, you can see the first soft flakes of snow drifting through the air. But here, inside, with your back braced against the newel post, you are warm. Tipping your head back, you gaze up into the yawning void above and cast your mind into it, losing yourself in daydreams of the beautiful rooms it conceals; your bedroom with its fourposter bed, all draped in velvet and silk—the dark, lacquered wood of the study, which still smells of cigar smoke, though as far as you can tell one hasn’t been lit in there for years—and, of course, the library.

·       Dark shelves line the walls, so tall they stretch from the wooden floor to the moulded ceiling. They stand, filled nearly past capacity with volumes of every shape and size, from encyclopedias so large you can lift only one at a time, to pocket novellas no bigger than your palm. Pages and spines alike, embossed with gold and silver shimmer from both the shelves and the tables set beside each of the overstuffed armchairs. The plush rug which lies beneath those tables and chairs makes even the floor a comfortable place to stretch out and lose oneself in a book. And the smell. Old leather and paper, printing ink and glue, dust and the very passage of time itself. It’s like every crooked old bookstore you’ve ever entered tucked away in a cozy corner of your own home. Whether or not you remember having dreamt of owning a private library, you were quite sure you could never go back to life without one and find yourself contented.

·       Even now, you long to curl up in one of those plush chairs and sink into another world until bedtime. You knew a soft blanket and a half-finished novel waited for you there, begging you to come back and see to them. And why shouldn’t you? What else was there to do on a chilly night such as this? The day’s chores were completed—the rat traps were checked (empty as always), the laundry was done, wood for the fire was stacked in the shed, and the supper dishes had been washed and put away. There is very little else that requires your attention. So why not?

·       Your socked feet sink into the plush, green carpeting as you mount the stairs. The banister is pleasantly cool and smooth beneath your fingertips. As you ascend, the light from below begins to dim, unable to reach any further into the darkness above. The difference made by the two flights of stairs between the lighted foyer and the dark second floor leaves you light-blinded and blinking in the shadows.

·       When again you regain your sight enough to behold it, even in partial darkness, the hallway that stretches before you is beautiful—the wooden paneling on the lower half of the walls takes on a sleek shine, while the deep green wallpaper above it fades into a stately and sober black. The paintings and portraits that line the walls are somber; muted without the proper lighting to show their colours, but they are no less impressive or imposing. A ship, barely visible, save for the canvas sails, is tossed on a rapidly darkening sea, lighting flashing far in the distance—a bright brushstroke of pure white, clear even in deep shadow. An old woman, her name rendered illegible in the gloom, stares down her nose at you in deep disapproval. Her eyes, like the rest of her, are severe and grey, and they seem, through either a trick of the light or the mastery of the painter, to follow you down the hall.

·       It is very dark. A thin, watery light filters through a small window at the end of the hall, but it does little to help guide you. You suppose you could turn on one of the many lamps that line the long and ponderous hall, but you know you can find your way just find without one. You’d spent several adventurous afternoons and many restless nights exploring the house and grounds. Though in the beginning you could barely follow the straight hall from the front door to the kitchen without getting lost, these days, you rarely, if ever, found yourself wandering the halls with no idea where you were.

·       You reach out, brushing the wallpaper with the tips of your fingers as you walk, grounding yourself in the darkness. It’s almost rough to the touch, stiff with age, though it’s clearly been well taken care of. In the daylight, there is little sign of aging at all - no scuffs or faded sections. You knew the house itself was well over a hundred years old, but it showed its age in astonishingly few places. Sure, the phones were ancient and the lack of wi-fi was irritating but—

·       Thump.

·       You freeze in place. You’re sure the sound had come from within the wall, just to the left of where you stood. There is something in there. The blood roars in your ear as you press it up against the wallpaper, straining to hear even a hint of movement, be it the shifting of the wood as the house settles, or the pitter-patter of something living. The seconds stretch on into minutes, but no further sounds come. You scrunch up your nose, feeling rather silly. It’s probably just a mouse…or maybe a rat. It sounded big. Perhaps those traps were good for something after all.

·       Your gaze lingers on the spot for a moment longer, but still, there is nothing but silence. Maybe it had been the house creaking in the wind. Old houses were prone to groaning after all. Either way, it couldn’t hurt to move some of the traps further up into the house for a little bit, just to be on the safe side.

·       You turn and continue down the hall, mind once again turning to the blanket, the book, and the comfy glow of the library. You press your palm flat against the wall as you walk, the whisper of your skin sliding over the wallpaper barely audible, even in the quiet that envelops the house at night.

·       Then your fingers catch against something—an indentation in the wallpaper. It’s subtle, but definitely there. You stop to inspect it closer, worried that perhaps your assessment about the house not showing its age may have come a little hastily. Your fingers explore the seam with care, and you decide it’s not a crack—it’s too regular, too straight. It feels intentional in its design. And it’s practically invisible in the darkness—likely just as difficult to spot in daylight considering how frequently you find yourself in this hall and your failure to take notice of it before now.

·       You crouch down, following the seam with your fingers. It stretches all the way down to the floor. Why…it’s almost like…a little door…

·       Almost at the same moment this thought trickles into your mind, the little section of wall gives way beneath your touch, swinging inward on silent hinges.

·       From within the inky darkness beyond, a pair of long, thin arms surge forth, snaking around your waist. The grip in which they envelop you is bruising as you are pulled back into the darkness beyond the secret door.

·       It slams behind you hard enough to rattle the picture frames in the hall. You scream, long and hard, struggling against the arms that cage you. You flail your limbs, lashing out blindly with fists and feet and nails, hoping desperately to strike your attacker, or at least wriggle enough to squirm from their crushing grasp. But the grip around your midsection only tightens, squeezing the very air from your lungs.

·       You lurch into motion, the figure in the darkness half-carrying, half-dragging you along a narrow passageway. You try to scream again but find you can’t get enough air to do so. Instead, you lash out, legs kicking against the walls, knees and shins colliding painfully with rough, wooden support beams and sharp corners.

·       While rounding a particularly tight corner, you manage to kick the opposite wall hard enough to throw your attacker off balance. A hissing shower of dust and plaster rains down on the pair of you. The figure stumbles, grip relaxing for only a moment, but it’s enough. You wriggle from their crushing grasp and dart back the way you came.

·       The figure recovers quickly, and you can hear them bolting after you in the darkness. It doesn’t take long before they’re on you again, one large hand fisted deep in your hair, wrenching your head back. You cry out in pain, stumbling back against the intruder. The hand in your hair doesn’t relinquish it’s hold as their other arm wraps around your chest, locking in place like an iron bar. You struggle uselessly, hot tears stinging the corners of your eyes as you’re dragged back the way you’d come, seemingly with even less regard for your physical well-being.

·       Not far beyond the corner where you’d made your escape, you’re shoved to the ground unceremoniously. As you make to crawl away, the figure circles around you, blocking your path of escape. Even as your eyes adjust to the darkness, you can’t see much more than an outline. Even so, you can tell they’re much bigger than you. You feel a large hand sliding beneath your knees, and another on the small of your back and suddenly, the floor beneath you drops away. Instinctively, your arms shoot out, fumbling in the darkness for something solid to grab hold of. Your grasping hands find a fist-full of the intruder’s shirt. It’s soft and well-worn in your hands, and you clutch so tightly to it that you can feel your fingers beginning to cramp almost immediately. A soft rumble rolls through the figure, and after a moment, you realize they’re laughing at you. You want to let go, but the fear of tumbling backward into the darkness stills your hands.

·       With the way you’re being jostled about, you get the distinct impression that you’re ascending a flight of stairs. Secret tunnels and staircases in the walls? Under any other circumstance, you would be ecstatic, ready to drop everything and explore them. But caught as you were, in the arms of a stranger, there is nothing but panic within you. Taking advantage of your new position, you take a deep breath, filling your lungs with the intention to scream, though you’re sure there’s no one around to hear you.

·       “Don’t.” So, it’s a man? His voice is soft, a half-whisper that thrums through your body where it’s pressed up against his chest. There is a distinctly British tilt to his voice, and it’s oddly muffled, as though something was covering his mouth. You’re reminded of those old cartoon bandits who wore bandanas across their mouths. He doesn’t want to be identified. The though sends a cold chill through you. This isn’t good. “Scream and I’ll drop you.”

·       The scream dies in your throat. While you certainly don’t like being caught in a strange man’s grip, the thought of lying broken at the bottom of a secret staircase no one else seems to know about hammers a worse kind of fear into your gut. You could die…or not and that might be the worse option: injured and completely at a stranger’s mercy. No. As it stands, if you follow his instructions, you remain unharmed, and the longer you remain unharmed, the better your chances of finding a way out.

·       At the top of the steps, you find yourself in front of a rough wooden door. Here he readjusts his grip on you, bracing your weight against his hips as he taps the door open with a gentle kick.

·       Suddenly, you’re bathed in a soft, golden light cast by the dozens of candles that lay scattered about the room. After so much time spent in the dark, the burst of light dazzles your eyes. In spite of your fear, you curl up against the strange man’s chest, turning away from the light that blinds and burns your eyes. It’s too much too soon.

·       The man laughs again, bouncing you gently in his arms, like one would a small child, “No hiding.”

·       His tone is light, but it is still a command. Sensing scant room for disobedience, you turn your face up towards his, cracking one eye open, then the other. You had been told not to, but in the flickering light, as you blink up at the face of your kidnapper, you can do nothing to stop the scream that builds in your throat.

·       His face is hidden, not behind a bandana, but a porcelain mask. The pale white surface is littered with a spider’s web of thin cracks and what looks to be dried blood. Your eyes sweep over the soft curve of the mouth, the delicate nose which turns up at the end, and the empty spaces behind which dark, human eyes burn into your own.

·       The moment the scream leaves you, ringing loud in the enclosed space, the man snarls, striding into the room with purpose. As he weaves through the maze of dusty old furniture, you beat your fists against his chest, squirming in his grip, trying with renewed desperation to escape his clutches. “Let me go! Let me go!!”

·       Ignoring your pleas, he stalks to the far corner of the room, where a low-slung cot waits, tucked close against a rough brick wall. He dumps you none too gently onto it, and you scrabble backward, knocking your head against the wall behind you. Your ears ring with the force of the blow, but your eyes remain trained on the masked man as he clambers onto the cot with you.

·       You jam yourself back into the corner, as far from the menacing figure as possible. He comes toward you slowly, laughing, as though this were all some silly game the pair of you were enjoying. You kick at him, and he swats your leg away, his shoulders shaking with laughter. His eyes, however, aren’t laughing. Where they peak out from beneath the mask, they blaze with only one thing: hunger.

·       You kick out at him again, catching him, this time, on the jaw, just beneath the edge of his mask. And just like that he’s not laughing anymore. He goes frighteningly still, and there’s a change in the air. You know he’s done playing.

·       He lunges for you, and you shriek, cowering back against the wall, the rough bricks digging into the flesh of your arms. His hands close around your ankles and he pulls you down toward him.

·       He slots himself between your legs, pinning your thighs down with boney knees. You squirm beneath him, but he’s too heavy for you to shake off. He looms above you in the candlelight, breathing hard, his eyes flashing behind the mask. With a jolt, you realize he’s going to hurt you. You’re so sure, you flinch, cringing away from him as much as is possible, bracing for the pain that’s sure to come.

·       But, when his knuckles brush against your cheek, it’s not in anger. It’s a gentle caress that jolts through you like an electric current. You turn to look at him, as he brushes the damp hair back from your forehead. He stares at you for a long moment, drinking in your shock, before leaning down to press cool porcelain lips against yours.

·       The kindness of his gestures surprises you almost more than any blow he could have delivered. When he promised to play rough, he usually meant it. With shaking hands, you reach up to touch his face. Your fingers slip beneath the mask, brushing the hair and skin beneath with feather-light touches. You want to see his face, want kisses from his real lips, want—

·       But the man’s fingers curl around your wrists, wrenching your hands from his face. “No.” There is force behind the word equal to the force with which he pins your wrists against the sheets, indenting the mattress beneath them. His voice, in that same soft whisper from before, rasps in your ear, “Not even when we’re playing, Love.”

·       You swallow hard, all the pretenses of your little experiment dropping away in an instant. You realize you came dangerously close to crossing a line. “Okay. Brahms. I-I’m sorry.”

·       You expect that he’ll want to stop now, and you wouldn’t blame him if he did, but he surprises you by nuzzling against your neck, “Not ‘Brahms.’”

·       So, he still wants to play. You smile up at him. “Oh, right! Sorry.”

·       He bends over your neck again, pressing porcelain kisses against your neck. You crane your head back, eager to make up for your misstep with the mask. There’s something about these kisses that makes your heart flutter—perhaps it’s simply the rush of a new sensation against sensitive flesh, or maybe it’s the knowledge that his real lips lay just beneath that hard surface, so close and yet completely out of reach.

·       When he lets go of your left wrist, you’re so caught up in these kisses, that you barely register it. That is until you feel the mask slide in an unnatural direction against your skin, and you feel Brahms’ real lips against your neck for the first time. Your whole body jerks forward, pressing against him with a soft sigh on your lips. His mouth is softer and warmer than you ever could have imagined. Even his beard feels good where it scratches against you.

·       His teeth scrape over your pulse, drawing another sound from you. You throw your arms around his neck and pull him down on top of you. His laugh rasps out against your throat, as he stamps warm kisses all across your collarbone.

·       You roll your hips against his and he groans, the sound rumbling deep within his chest. He surges upward fixing his teeth into the meat of your neck as he grinds down against you, letting you feel just how badly he wants you. His name slips between your teeth as a hiss and you feel him smile against your neck. His tongue flickers over the mark he’s left, though it’s more to lay further claim than to soothe the ache his teeth pushed into your flesh.

·       When he pulls back, he’s already pushing the mask back into place, though you catch a quick flash of the smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth.

·       He looks down at you, eyes sliding slow down your body, head cocked to the side like he’s thinking. He has that hungry look about him again and it lights a white-hot bolt of desire in your gut. You lift your hips, rolling them against his, relishing both the spark of pleasure that shoots through your stomach, and the shiver that rolls down his spine. A little whine escapes his lips, and you feel your heart leap. God, you’d do anything to hear that sound again. He meets the roll of your body with a stuttering jolt of his own.

·       You can’t help but beam up at him. “What are you thinking about Brah—Mister?”

·       He sighs deeply, running his hands down your chest, his fingers tracing along your ribs. “About all the things I could do to you…”

·       A breathless puff of laughter escapes you, “Oh, yeah?” You guide his hands down to your hips, hoping he’ll take the hint. “Like what?”

·       “Hm…let’s see. I could, hold you down,” His hands, still resting beneath yours tighten against your hips, pushing you down against the mattress. You try to buck up against him, but he holds you fast, “I don’t think so, Love.” He grips you hard, dipping his head to whisper into your ear, “I could just hold you here, and you’d have to take whatever I decide to give you.” His thumbs trace the seams of your hips. Even through your jeans it makes you shudder.

·       “Or, I could give you very little at all,” He lets go of your hips in favour of ghosting a hand down your thigh. His other hand presses gently against your zipper. His fingers trail down the seam, until you feel the pressure against your clit and jerk against his hand. He pulls away, “Just enough to keep you interested, but not enough to satisfy you.”

·       You whine, feeling a damp patch growing in your underwear. You know he’d get such a charge from dragging this out, teasing you until your arousal had soaked through the denim of your jeans. You could hear him now, ‘A few kisses and some dirty words…it’s that easy?' While you’d usually be willing to indulge him, you weren’t willing to give him that satisfaction today. He was already so uppity as it was. “Or you could just toss my legs over your shoulders and take what you want.” You toss an arm over your forehead in an attempt at playing toward his flair for the dramatic, “Look at me, baby. I’m defenseless.” You roll your hips against him again, nice and slow. You can tell by the hitch in his breathing that you’ve almost got him convinced. You can barely keep the smirk from your face as you arch your back, and whimper for him, “Please?”

·       That one word is all it takes to break him. In a flash he’s slipped out of his cardigan and tossed it off into the darkness of the attic. His suspenders follow suit with a metallic clinking. It isn’t until he’s unbuttoning his trousers that you realize you have mere seconds to undo your own before Brahms falls upon you and tears them off himself. You’ve lost more than one good pair of jeans this way and you don’t intend to lose another if you can help it.

·       Your shaking hands fumble with the button, managing to pop it only after a few tries. Taking them off from your position underneath Brahms is no small feat, especially considering his reluctance to move, now that his trousers rest about his knees and he’s rolling his hips against your still clothed thigh, his cock already leaking against the denim.

·       “Want you now.” His voice is rough, breaking in time with the thrusting of his hips.

·       “I know, baby. But you’ve gotta wait.”

·       Brahms huffs in irritation. ‘Wait’ is not a word he likes to hear at the best of times, let alone when his dick is this hard.

·       You tap his hip gently. “C’mon, up.”

·       He drops his head against your shoulder with a petulant whimper, his hips stuttering against your thigh.

·       “Brahms…” You sigh, half-frustrated, half-amused. You would be lying if you said you didn’t find it incredibly sexy when Brahms acted like a brat, but your pleasure was at stake here as well. “You can’t fuck me properly with my jeans on.”

·       His hips slow for a moment, and he whines again.

·       “C’mon, be a good boy for me.” You feel his cock pulse against your thigh, and he relents. He scoots back just enough for you to push your jeans and underwear down your thighs. Brahms takes care of the rest, tearing the offending fabric from your legs and tossing it from the bed to join his cardigan on the floor.

·       His hands are on your shoulders in an instant, shoving you back against the mattress, all patience spent. You feel the head of his cock pressing against your entrance, and barely have a time to take a breath before he’s pushing inside with a single, smooth stroke.

·       “F-Fuuuck…”

·       “Yeah, that’s the idea, baby.” Your hands are fisted tightly in the sheets, your voice tight as your body grows accustomed to the stretch once again. You’ve taken Brahms with little preparation before. You know you can handle it, but somehow the girth of him almost always comes as a surprise.

·       To his credit, he does his best to keep still until you give him the ‘okay,’ though you can feel his hips shaking with the effort. He’s mouthy while he waits though, any trace of the gentleman within him his gone, replaced by a cursing, dirty-talking stranger, “Gonna pound you into this mattress, gonna fuck you like—fuck you’re so wet—like your my whore…mine, mine, ah fuck! Mine.”

·       You roll your hips, testing the water, and he bites back a string of curses. His hips stutter forward unbidden, and you moan low in your throat.

·       Behind the mask, you see his eyes roll back. He starts to beg then, changing his tune entirely, “Please, Love, let me fuck you, please, please, please. I promise I’ll be good. I will, just please!”

·       You reach up, carding your fingers through his hair, “Show me what a good boy you are, make us feel good, baby.”

·       Without missing a beat, Brahms’ hips take up a frantic rhythm, tearing a litany of pretty sounds from your throat. Your hands tangle themselves in his hair as he drops his head to press doll’s mouth kisses against your throat.

·       Your hand slips between your bodies, spreading your lips to circle your clit. You buck against him, gasping his name as the pleasure courses through you two-fold.

·       A strong hand grasps your wrist again pulling it away from your clit. “We mustn’t touch what isn’t ours.” You nearly whine in frustration, but your displeasure is quickly forgotten when you feel the soft pads of Brahms’ fingers against your sensitive flesh.

·       “You,” he groans in pleasure, angling his hips to push deeper inside of you, “You belong to me.” He punctuates the sentiment with a sharp snap of his hips. “That means I am the only one who can make you feel good.” He presses his fingers hard against your clit, and your thighs begin to shake. “Tell me who you belong to.”

·       It takes you a second to find your voice. “Y-You, Brahms.”

·       “Yesss,” the rhythm of his thrusts is beginning to fall by the wayside as his hips buck and stutter. “Say it again.” His fingers circle your clit faster, and you can feel yourself teetering on the edge of orgasm.

·       “Fuck, Brahms! I’m yours! A-All yours! You’re gonna make me cum.”

·       “Mine.” You feel the mask slide to the side again and his lips are on your neck. You feel his teeth graze the bite mark he’d left. His teeth are in your throat, his fingers on your clit, his cock in your cunt, and you’re cumming. His name tumbles from your lips, the only coherent thought in your mind.

·       He groans against your neck, trying to fuck you through it, but you’re too tight around him, forcing him into an agitated stillness. His fingers work your clit feverishly until you push his hand away, too oversensitive to stand another second of it.

·       You’re still almost painfully tight around him when the rhythmic pulsing of your own orgasm begins to push him over the edge. He thrusts into you once, twice, thrice more, before pulling out and shaking apart, his cum painting your thighs and stomach. He whimpers and trembles, fisting his cock through the aftershocks of his orgasm, desperate to chase every last ounce of pleasure.

·       Only when he’s well and truly spent, nearly sobbing from the agony of the overstimulation does he flop down on the cot beside you, panting heavily, cock still twitching against his thighs.

·       He kicks off his trousers, and curls up by your side, throwing an arm around you. For the longest time, the only sound in the room is that of your breathing slowing in tandem as you each come down from your high.

·       Brahms’ voice is small when he speaks up at last, “Did I do okay?”

·       You turn to face him, laying on your side. You reach out a hand and readjust his mask, before pressing a soft kiss against the delicate bow of his lips. “You were perfect. Thank you, Brahms.”

·       He nods once, but he doesn’t look convinced. There’s tension in his shoulders, and he won’t look you in the eyes.

·       “What’s wrong, honey?”

·       He shakes his head, burrowing against your side. “Nothing…”

·       “It doesn’t look like nothing to me. It’s okay to talk to me about things like this, you know.”

·       He’s silent for a little while longer, and you wonder if he needs a little more prodding to use his words. But then, he speaks, “I wasn’t…too rough? In the passages?”

·       “No, baby. No. It was exactly like we talked about.”

·       “Okay.” There’s a little touch of a frown in his voice, like he’s trying to puzzle something through in his mind. “I didn’t expect you to fight me so hard. It felt…real.”

·       “I wanted to make it seem real. Did I upset you?”

·       There’s a long pause, but when he speaks, he sounds genuine. “I don’t think so. It was a little…thrilling.”

·       You can’t help the giggle that bubbles in your throat, “It was, wasn’t it? Where did you get an idea like that? Pretending to kidnap me and all that?”

·       He’s quiet for a moment, as he remembers a time not so long ago, when the idea was meant to be more reality than fantasy. He was supposed to have that girl. He should have done better, should have fought for her harder, should have killed her and buried her in the yard with the others. He should have done a lot of things. The scar on his stomach burns with the memory of all the things he should have done. But they don’t matter now. She doesn’t matter now. He has you.

·       He presses another kiss against your neck and lies, “Recreation of a scene from 'Jane Eyre.' You know how I adore that novel. And you being such a pretty lady, simply had to fill the role of the damsel in distress.”

·       “If you say so.” You snuggle closer against his chest. He really was a very strange man. A yawn blossoms in the base of your jaw, but you do your best to fight it off. You know you’ll be sore later, but for now you’re happy and sated and perfectly content to doze in the arms of the man you love.

·       Then a thought hits you, “Hold on, Jane Eyre doesn’t get kidnapped, Brahms.”

·       He chuckles softly against your shoulder, “So you have been reading my books after all.”

[moonbeambucky]

Hey Neighbor (Part 7)

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Reader Word Count: 3701 Warnings: fluff

Summary: You had a plan and then life came along with one of its own. With your future almost derailed you worked hard to get yourself back on track and finally everything seemed to be going right… that is, until your new neighbor moved in.

A/N: Things are happening!! A huge thank you to my wonderful beta Sam @buckyofthemyscira​​ Feedback is always appreciated!

PART 6 | HEY NEIGHBOR MASTERLIST

Bucky stared at you with his mouth gaping open, stunned into silence at your question. His pause made you realize your mistake. Slapping your palm to your forehead made you cringe with embarrassment. 

Quickly you corrected yourself with an awkward giggle. “I mean would you like to come out with me? Tomorrow night a few of us are gonna get together to celebrate,” you beamed.

“You got the internship?”

Bucky asked the question but the brightness of your eyes told him his answer before you bubbled with delight. His arms were around you in an instant, like a magnet that pulled you close to each other as he hugged you deeply.

The shock of his unexpected hug was not unwelcome as your own arms lifted up to wrap around him in return, keeping your bodies pressed together as you felt every little squeeze filled with unspoken pride. Turning your head brought you closer to the spice on his neck, inhaling the warmth that set every part of your body ablaze.

Suddenly you were very aware of Bucky, of the strong arms that encased your frame, of the lean muscle underneath your fingers as you gripped his back, of the firm stomach pressed against you. He whispered congratulations and the heat of his breath against your ear sent tingles down your spine. You broke away from the hug, smiling nervously as you reminded yourself Bucky was just a neighbor and friend, nothing more.

“Yeah, so tomorrow night if you’re free. We’re just going local for some drinks, like nine-ish.”

“Tell me where and I’ll be there,” he promised, flashing his teeth as his lips pulled into a smile.

You sat back on Wanda’s bed hanging your feet off the side, watching as she touched up the dark eyeliner that made her green eyes pop. You had met earlier for dinner near her apartment and were hanging out and catching up until it was time to head to the bar.

It had been longer than you cared to acknowledge since the last time you went out somewhere that didn’t involve you working on a paper. Wanda assured you nothing much has changed since your social sabbatical but it didn’t stop you from holding on to a little bit of worry.

Beside Wanda’s bed was a framed picture of her and Pietro. His arm was thrown over Wanda with his hand pressed firmly, protectively on her shoulder. You brought it closer to examine, tracing your finger along the glass and smiling at the memory of your friend.

It had been so long you’d forgotten the way Pietro’s blonde hair could look silver in certain light but you didn’t forget his smile. His beautiful smile always shined like the brightest star in the sky despite the darkness it held back.

As you placed the frame back to its spot on the nightstand you thought about what you were celebrating tonight. The internship was bringing you one step closer to your goal and soon you could honor Pietro in your own way by helping others in need.

“Who else is coming tonight?” Wanda shouted from the bathroom at the other end of her apartment.

“Steve and Sam, Clint and Natasha and Bucky.”

“Who the hell is Bucky?” she asked and you explained he was your new neighbor. “Wait... the Music Man?! What happened to wanting to kill him?”

Instead of shouting back you got up to walk towards her bathroom, watching her style half her hair in a messy bun as wavy tresses fell across her shoulders.

“Wow we really need to catch up more often.”

Wanda jumped at your voice, not expecting you to be so close as you leaned against the doorframe. Looking at you through the reflection of the mirror she asked what happened, so you explained how things went when you finally spoke with him.

“He’s actually really nice so no, I won’t be committing any murders.”

“Uh huh…” Wanda’s lips pulled into a smirk. “You like him.”

Your face scrunched at the thought. “No Wanda I don’t. He’s nice, he’s a friend but I don’t like him, not like that,” you stated sharply. “Remember, he’s still sleeping with all of New York.”

The whites of her eyes were a stark contrast to the black makeup surrounding them as they rolled to the back of her head. “I know he’s your friend,” she emphasized with finger quotations, “But if he’s coming to this he wants to sleep with you too, just sayin’.”

You rolled your eyes back at Wanda, not arguing further because you know she’d never let it go.

She shrugged on a red leather jacket, not that she needed it yet. September had only just begun and the summer heat was still very much present. A bit of early morning rain had cooled things down only slightly today but it never mattered to Wanda, she’ll always put style first before comfort.

The rhythmic beat of drumming grew louder as you descended the steps to the subway. A small band of four young girls had taken up residence for the night along the tiled wall drawing a rather large crowd of faces blocked by their phones as they streamed the performance to social media.

The lead singer reminded you of Natasha with her red hair but the blonde haired drummer stuck out the most; she was killing it as her hot pink spider web clad sleeves were moving in a flurry as she hit a solo. You watched them for a few minutes, tossing a few dollars into their open guitar case before catching the train back towards your neighborhood.

You rubbed your nose with your hand, wiggling it a few times before turning towards Wanda. “Any horses in the stable?” you asked, tilting your head up. It was your code from childhood, a subtle way of asking in public if there were any boogers in your nose.

Wanda chuckled, “Nope. All clear, weirdo.”

“You love me,” you replied, with a wide smile stretching across your face.

Goosebumps erupted along your arms from the unexpected chill on the street and you shrugged down your shirt that had risen up after climbing the steps. Though you were celebrating there was no need to dress up, slimming jeans and black booties were good enough for this occasion.

You were excited to go back to this bar named only after its address, 107. It was modeled like a speakeasy with no real signs other than a lighted marquee that made it a popular Instagram spot. You had been there once before for a coworkers birthday and knowing how crowded it gets you knew you’d be fine without a jacket.

A familiar laugh carried through the streets. Underneath the marquee stood Steve and Sam laughing about something until Sam nudged him to turn around towards the figures walking their way.

After kissing them both on the cheek you introduced them to Wanda. Steve had met her before you remembered though it had been a while since they saw each other.

“It’s nice to meet you,” Sam said, taking Wanda’s hand and smiling widely, “I’m Dr. Wilson but you can call me Sam.”

He flashed his teeth, grinning widely and Steve turned towards you, speaking a silent conversation with just your eyes that revealed you both knew Sam had dialed up his charm for a reason.

“Why are you guys standing outside?” she asked.

“Well Cap over here is the genius that couldn’t find the door.”

Tilting your head at Steve you questioned, “Cap?”

“Cause I’m the captain at the gym apparently.” Steve said reluctantly, laughing under his breath. “Not my fault that Sam can’t keep up,” he teased.

“Well some of us save lives working long shifts,” Sam replied to Steve while winking at Wanda.

Steve chuckled, “Excuses, excuses.”

“Oh you wanna go?” Sam challenged Steve but it was friendly and beneath the teasing it was obvious just how well they got along.

“Alright let’s head in,” you began, leading the way to the unmarked door.

From the outside the door was covered in wooden planks, appearing to be the remnant of an abandoned or condemned building but it pulled open with ease, with sunset colored lights illuminating the stairs to the basement.

At the bottom is a large man dressed in all black, blocking a wooden door with a stained glass insert. Echoes of the music from within the room he guards bounce around the small corridor where you and your friends are pulling out your IDs to show him.

Soon enough the door opens to reveal a room bathed in muted autumn colors, from the rusted brick walls, glowing with period sconces to the deep russet leather booths. Cognac covered the walls, not only from the bottles on the glass shelves behind the bar but within the Victorian wallpaper. The damask pattern was highlighted by the slightly lighter honey color, though everything seemed to blend together in the dim room.

Natasha spotted you from the bar, hopping off the stool as she grabbed her drink and Clint’s hand. Once again you introduced everybody all the while looking around for another face. Wanda noticed your roaming eyes and asked if you were looking for Bucky. Answering as casually as you could you wanted to make it seem like you didn’t care, because you didn't, not like that. Instead your attention was focused on everyone who was present, and you moved towards the bar.

There was a large table in the back Clint was eyeing like a hawk, ready to move in once the group there showed any sign of getting ready to leave. In the meantime everyone else ordered drinks and crowded around a small high top table, with Sam offering Wanda a seat and standing beside her.

It was nice to be out with friends again and you hoped that since now you would be free from writing papers that you would have more time and energy to get out more. Truthfully you were imagining the next big celebration, the day you finally walk across the stage to receive your diploma.

You’re lost in thought as you take a sip of your deep sunset colored cocktail that clings on to the memory of summer, unaware of the person calling your name until his tap on your shoulder brings you back to reality. You choke slightly on the burn of alcohol you quickly swallow, turning around to see Bucky standing behind you.

The sleeves of his bright blue shirt are rolled up and even in the dim lighting you can see how well the color brings out his eyes.

“You made it!” you exclaimed a little too enthusiastically. “Everyone this is Bucky,” you presented him awkwardly as he squeezed beside you, extending his hand forward to everyone as you introduced them.

“So you’re the Guitar Hero,” Clint remarked.

“We live above you,” Natasha said, quirking her eyebrows.

Bucky’s cheeks turned rosy with embarrassment as he tried to laugh off the unspoken words behind her smirk. You began to speak to diffuse the awkwardness but were interrupted as Clint popped up in a flash, darting through the crowd to get to the large table that was now available.

He slid in the corner of the U-shaped booth with Natasha by his side. Wanda offered Sam to go in first towards the middle because she knew you wouldn’t want to be in the direct center, too many people to disrupt if you needed to get up for any reason.

Sam’s smile increased as Wanda sat in the corner next to him with you beside her. Steve settled in next to Natasha on the end continuing their conversation, watching from across the table as you nervously took a sip of your drink as Bucky sat in the open spot beside you.

He slid out just as quickly though saying he was going to grab a drink. Leaning in close, his breath tickled your ear as he asked if you wanted anything.

“Uh, I-I’ll take a refill, I guess,” you asked, telling him your drink order.

Alcohol is supposed to make people let go so you’re not sure why you feel so nervous.

Motioning to hand him money Bucky put his hand out to stop you. “It’s on me,” he said smiling.

When Bucky came back you raised your glass up. “Thank you so much everyone for coming. It’s been a really, really long journey and while it’s not over yet the end of the road is near.”

With a proud smile you explained not only were you celebrating the internship but your new position at Stark Industries. Glasses clinked together to toast you, with Wanda’s arms pulling you towards her for a hug.

“I’m so proud of you,” she whispered.

Sitting back up Bucky leaned in to congratulate you. As he spoke your eyes focused on his lips and the stubble growing in around them. Lifting your eyes to his you thanked him, finding yourself in need to quench the thirst of your suddenly dry mouth.

“Y/N, now that you’ll be working at Metro-Gen there’s something you need to know.” Sam lifted the glass to his lips to take a gulp, with an obvious smile stretching across his face as he made everyone wait.

“He does this all the time!” Steve laughed.

Everyone waited with anticipation as he set his glass down. “Do not eat from the cafeteria unless you wanna spend the night in the ER.”

“It can’t be that bad,” said Clint.

“Oh it is.” Sam insisted, offering other nearby places to go instead. “The coffee is passable but I’d avoid the whole place if you can.”

“Good to know.”

Smoother than honey, Sam asked Wanda if she planned on stopping by the hospital now that you’d be working there, letting her know she could always come see him too. You and Steve caught each other’s gaze again and smiled at Sam’s blatant flirting. Wanda didn’t seem to mind, in fact it looked like she had scooted closer towards Sam.

Throughout the night drinks were flowing as freely as the conversation with everyone getting to know each other better.

“Preparing for a trial is so much easier than planning a wedding,” Natasha insisted.

“I don’t see what’s so hard about it,” Clint replied, regretting the words as soon as they left his mouth.

“For one, there are too many decisions to make. Colors and themes– do we even need a theme? So many pre-wedding events to plan for, it’s too much!”

Pressing his lips to her temple Clint told Natasha they would get through it. His kiss pacified her frustrations momentarily as Natasha huffed loudly, “And tell me again why we have to invite your cousin who you have not seen or spoken to in over ten years?”

“‘Cause he’s family?”

“I’m on Natasha’s side here,” Wanda interjected, “Just because they’re family you shouldn’t feel obligated to invite them, especially if you don’t have a relationship with them.”

“I just got my cousin’s save the date actually,” Bucky chimed in. “We talk though and his fiancé seems to be into all that planning stuff.”

“I’d rather not have a whole wedding to be honest,” Natasha mumbled quietly, following up her frustrations with a large swig from her beer.

A few hours had passed and you began to yawn, a lot. You hadn’t stayed up this late, especially without the aid of coffee in years and even though you were feeling the exhaustion it was a nice change of pace.

“We should do this again,” you suggested and everyone agreed, exchanging numbers with each other.

Steve and Wanda were headed in the same direction so they left together. Before Steve left he gave you a big hug, whispering in your ear about how much you both needed to gossip about how hard Sam was trying with Wanda. You would definitely be calling her first since she turned as red as a tomato when Sam kissed her cheek as he said goodnight.

The walk to your apartment building wasn’t far but Clint and Natasha decided to grab an Uber since Clint was more wasted than he let on.

“I’m gonna walk back,” you stated as Natasha was setting up the ride. “I’m starving,” you replied to her confusion. “Wanna find something to eat.”

Your stomach had been growling for a while and you were desperate for any type of food, preferably something greasy.

“I’ll walk with you,” Bucky said.

Natasha made a mental note of how quickly Bucky offered to walk with you but still she was relieved you wouldn’t be alone.

The silence was comfortable as you strolled along the sidewalk, finding a walk up window on the next block that offered a slice of pizza for a dollar. You held the paper plate beneath the folded slice to catch the dripping oil, eating as you continued your journey home.

Walking down the block a man pushed the door open of a pub, letting out the startling sound of classic rock music from within as he steps to the side to smoke. Up ahead you heard the drunken laughter of a small group of guys headed your way. Bucky automatically took a precautionary step closer towards you which you hadn’t realized until your elbow grazed his arm. The group passed without incident allowing you to enjoy the rest of your walk home in the somewhat quieted city streets.

“This isn’t the worst dollar slice I’ve had,” Bucky said, finishing his first.

With one more bite to go you tossed the plate into the trash can on the corner. “Definitely not the best though.”

The remaining blocks until your apartment were filled with pizza discourse that made you even hungrier.

“Pineapple on pizza?” you questioned, fumbling with the keys to get into the front door of the building.

“Not my favorite. I don’t hate it but I wouldn’t go out of my way for it.” Bucky pressed the button for the elevator, leaning against the wall. “You?”

“Same. It’s not a topping choice I’d ever pick but I’d still eat it.”

The elevator doors opened and Bucky motioned for you to go inside first.

“Can I be honest? I really wish I had gotten another slice,” you chuckled, looking at the smile pulling on Bucky’s face.

“Me too. We can go out, uh back out, for more.”

The idea of roaming the streets with Bucky in the middle of the night for pizza was very tempting but despite a night of drinking some logic survived, making you realize you would end up sleeping through Sunday. There was too much to do in preparation for the week, especially since you hadn’t brainstormed any ideas for The September Foundation and you really wanted to make a good impression on everyone involved in the project.

“Next time, I promise, maybe not at 1am but we should totally go on a pizza quest! Eat our way through the city and stuff ourselves until we find the best place.”

“That’s the best idea I’ve ever heard,” Bucky proclaimed, dropping his voice softly as the elevator opened to your floor.

You smiled widely under his gaze, feeling the heat on your skin that must have been because of the drinks and not the soft stare of Bucky’s handsome face. Your heart began to beat like the rhythm of his song as your lungs let go of the breath you had been holding on to.

Your keys slipped from your fingers, falling to the floor with a jangly thump. Both you and Bucky bent down to reach for them, banging your heads together.

“Shit I’m so sorry,” he apologized, seeing your hand pressed against the spot on your head where you collided. Bucky feels terrible but also can’t help but notice how cute your face looks all scrunched up.

“I’m okay,” you reassured with a smile.

His soft fingers grazed yours as he handed back your keys.

“Thanks and thanks for coming out tonight Bucky.”

Dropping your hand from the slightly painful spot on your head you moved in to hug him. Bucky was tense, not expecting that but he quickly let go and relaxed into the hug, into the softness of your body against his.

His nose is buried in your hair and Bucky breathes in your scent. It’s overwhelming, as the subtle hint of flowers invade his senses, transporting him to a lush garden full of fragrant blooms. His mouth is watering at the sweetness, as every part of his body awakens with the urge to immerse himself in this mesmerizing scent.

He wonders why he hadn’t noticed this before on you, but then again this is the closest you’ve been and like a lightning strike to his soul Bucky is shocked. He’s never felt this need before, this desire to fulfill his senses this way, he craves this more than oxygen and he’s scared.

Fear pulls him away from you, covering his shaky voice as best as he could as he mutters out, “H-have a good night.”

“Goodnight Bucky,” you replied, opening your apartment door.

The dull throbbing of your head keeps Bucky on your mind and on the other side of the wall he lies awake, staring at the ceiling. He’s restless and unsure of what to do with the unsettled feeling in his stomach. Bucky throws his legs over the side of the bed, slumping his shoulders as he wipes his face roughly. He wonders why he can’t sleep, throwing a glance to the wall where he pictures you sleeping beneath the twinkling lights that surround your bed.

His heart skips a worrisome beat leaving Bucky with the only option he feels safe with. Grabbing his phone he scrolls through his contacts wondering who to text. Dot is clingy and desperate enough to come over in the middle of the night but Bucky doesn’t have the strength to deal with her. He scrolls to Rosa, knowing she didn’t live too far. He’s thankful when she comes over, desperate for the distraction, pounding away furiously into the girl beneath him, all while someone else was slowly creeping into his mind.

PART 8

[suspiciouslypinkrosegarden]

The Passed Out Princess Chapters 1-2

Pairing: My CMC (Uyu, Dan Byeol) x Suit Saeran

Description: On days 7-9 of Ray’s route, the player is denied food as “Saeran” makes his presence first known. But, what if MC fell very ill under this method of torture due to a medical condition? Sadly, my custom MC, Uyu (full name Dan Byeol), would deal with exactly this dilemma.

Content warning: Descriptions of throwing up, passing out, and meal skipping. Every food related issue mentioned is strictly medical, and based on my own condition.

This was written under the assumption that you have played Ray’s route in full, so route spoilers ahead! This takes place during the very beginning of day 8, and according to the timings and contents of the chat rooms, it would take place before Saeran cuts contact with the RFA and before he installs a camera to monitor MC in her room. It is timed to match closely around to when I’d get sick myself.

My CMC’s condition deals chronic with low blood sugar, meaning she has to eat to keep it up or suffer the consequences as seen here. It is not diabetes related, it is something she is born with as am I and is linked to more complicated matters I left out to keep it simple. Some symptoms include: growing light headed, severe dizziness, nausea, vomiting, and passing out. See all chapters

I wrote this with flexibility for whichever HC for Saeran you follow (DID or BPD), because whether or not he has one of the following, Rika has drilled it in his head that Ray and Saeran are separate entities, and Saeran views it this way. Consider it written the way Cheritz writes him, with nothing exactly too set.

To make things easier for myself, I’m uploading multiple chapters on each post, chapters only separated by lines. Here is 1 and 2

Ping!

The sound of Dan’s phone alerted her to rise and greet the day with a new chat room open.

As the morning sun took its place in the clear blue sky, the little woman sat up in her big bed, bangs sticking out in all directions as her head thumped with a dull pain. Hunger induced pain, she noted, as her stomach felt empty.

Despite the beauty of this early morning, the light pouring through the windows creating a rosy glow which engulfed the princess room; there was no beautiful light shining on the brunette’s new situation, seeming so dreary and dim.

Uyu still found herself wrapped up in this place, whisked away to a castle tucked deep within mountains known as Magenta. Every corner of the building was constructed brick by brick with a beautifully ornate architectural design, but the bright exterior was only a façade. If she was left caged like this for long, what would become of her? Driven to insanity, perhaps she’d attack and claw at the walls which confined her, unable to turn her anger to Saeran, the real victim in all this. The “savior” made it clear she was the true ruling figure who lurked about as the moon rose, the mastermind behind this place’s pain and suffering.

The night before, after being so kindly introduced to “Saeran”, this golden-haired angel confirmed herself to be quite the wicked witch of the west indeed, and it took everything out of Uyu to not call her harsher names to her face.

Mint Eye was hell redecorated to wear the guise of heaven, but pretty gardens and saccharine words could not fool her. Because Dan wore no wool over her eyes, the savior had no intention of allowing her to live long enough to become the new narrator of “The Yellow Wallpaper”; and she had no shoes to click together at the heel to wish her way home with who she came here for originally.

Just as Ray’s suit did, he changed, flipping like a light switch.

Saeran, the name V previously called him by, did succeed in giving her a good fright, his attitude being the least thing she expected to see after Ray’s earlier sobs over the phone.

Uyu was mainly focused on one solid question after their encounter, though. Just what did that “cleansing” entail in full detail? What did this place do to him, to make him weep and beg for a warm hand to hold one minute, only to push back and try to scare her the next?

It was as if he was caught, dragged by the feet somewhere inescapable, a pit damp and dark down under; rising from a shivering grave cold to the touch.

If it weren’t for her position, she wouldn’t have allowed it.

Now more than ever, this room built on the foundation of fantasy and delight felt like a birdcage which barely allowed her to wiggle an arm through its bars. She relied on her song, her sweet words which Ray claimed to tickle at his heart and hold a power over him like no other before. Her goal, of course, was to use this for good, influencing him to learn to appreciate and care for himself like he should. But now, she felt unable to do even that much, not that she’d give up trying.

Saeran wished to dismiss her and her actions entirely, evident from his need to spew the fact that he bestowed upon her the label of being less than a person, his toy. His play thing.

That sick twisting she felt pooling in her gut upon first hearing the term “cleansing” seemed all too in place.

Ray, as sweet as her prince charming was, had a knack for leaving out important details about this museum of wonder. To her best guess, it was done to avoid panic as none of what went on here could be viewed as normal, or ok. He only briefly mentioned things like the “elixir”, such as on the night V arrived to spiral this place’s plans into chaos.

That was the night she could officially mark a great importance in staying, despite the vast network of lies.

Uyu wasn’t entirely stupid, she had an idea of what the elixir might be a while back, but it was still hard to process regardless.

Saeran threatened to give her one of these cleansing ceremonies...and said he could “draw out the maximum pain in the process”, telling her whatever happened to him hurt. A “no duh” moment indeed, but it was confirmation.

Ray suffered, for no reason other than he was too enwrapped in his blooming feelings for her, something that shouldn’t be taken as a negative but was. It displeased the savior that his chains which bound him by the ankles began to jingle with his new yearning to take flight.

She couldn’t allow herself to lie down and give the savior the satisfaction of breaking her, not when she still had so much to do, and not when Saeran and the RFA were at risk.

As the cool night-time air blew around them, feeling its whisper through her long locks of hair, Ray opened up about Mint Eye’s beliefs as a sanctuary for the “weak”, who had no choice but to lock themselves away to avoid further hurt.

He clearly viewed himself as someone in this category. Weak. But Saeran? Saeran shoved and shouted, which felt like a complete opposite to Ray’s whimpers and pleading. He even went as far as to accuse her of manipulation, of treating Ray like a puppet as she watched him dance to the harp she plucked.

Looking past his outburst and itch to watch her squirm, there stood a man seething with hate sparked entirely by twisted lies and his own fears. He gave himself away rather quickly as he attempted to say she messed with “hisna vefeelings” for some “big plan”.

She had to trust that there were boundaries he wouldn’t cross, being so close to her and forceful...and that was where her panic truly lied. But for now, she’d bank on the idea that he just wanted to scare her, staying alert in case he went too far. There were vases around from Ray’s various gifts that could be used as a weapon during the extreme. Unlike her, Saeran had no fighting skills either, but currently she was a bit too ill for those measures.

For once, a room so pink made her feel neither cozy nor at home.

Uyu’s fuzzy morning vision was then attracted to a black blob hanging on the doorknob. With a little eye rub, she made it out to be a dress, and a rather pretty one at that. In the way it was cut, it would expose much of her shoulders and upper back, the top front of it connected to a bow tied around the back of a neck piece with strings of fabric; like an attached choker. She could only assume it was a “gracious gift” bestowed upon her from the man she saw take Ray’s place. Apparently, he has a thing for black.

Her little device chimed again, and then once more, third time giving her the last push of annoyance she needed to reach over and respond to the opened chatroom.

She sighed with relief seeing Seven was the person active online, as she could now pester him with questions about what he was seeing on his end of the fight. They typed away, Uyu expressing concern for both of the hackers as they discussed Ra-Saeran’s new careless and aggressive tactics to snag him a victory.

As time passed, Jumin joined to ask questions as well, mainly circling around the governmental commendation from the Prime Minister to recognize the RFA for their charity work. Uyu stuck to her gut and pushed against the idea of it being a complete positive.

While both V and Seven acted oddly around the idea of the commendation, the RFA was also just a small organization which had only held two parties previous to Rika’s “passing”. The award was too fishy to trust in her judgment, especially now that she understood things going on around here weren’t at all what they had seemed to be.

Mint Eye wasn’t the only organization she was caught in that held its secrets.

After a bit of talking, Jumin agreed that the prime minister’s reasoning had to be figured out before any final decisions could be made. Everyone logged off, Seven returning to the battlefield and Jumin to stitching in his car.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The need for food grew worse.

Uyu showered and changed into the outfit provided…not having much of a choice to do otherwise unless she wanted to rewear old clothing. She felt down and sluggish as she dressed the way her toy maker willed, the dark frills of her attire tickling against her thighs as her step dragged. She was still ok enough to make herself look presentable, even if done at such a pace.

Her hair changed to a solid dark brown color as it took in the shower water, the gold ombré reaching her tips returning upon giving it a blow dry, making sure Saeran would have less to scoff next he saw her. She wasn’t aiming to avoid his crude comments, but instead trying to make herself feel good. Call her smelly all he wants, she knows she isn’t.

Saeran was aiming to play into her insecurities, maybe full well knowing she had so very many of them as he tried to wind her up. The least she could do was confirm his lies to be lies in the ways she knew how, if not for him then for her. She couldn’t allow him to figure out what made her gears stop, whether his words were true or not. This was no game of knife throwing, and she was no target.

11:00 AM crept up on her as she moped around quietly in her dollhouse, waiting for Saeran to come and try to take a good yanking on her marionette strings.

Dan sat upon the bed as the empty-headed feeling and banging in her temple raged, shifting to lay down fully and make herself more comfortable. If she stood for too long, she’d sway and wobble as her vision turned to black, purple and green swirls, momentarily clouding both her sight and mind.

Despite her numerous texts and occasional calls, she still heard nothing from Saeran. Not a peep.

She was growing restless as well as worried for him, and what would become of her as she continued to go unfed.

Her phone buzzed, shifting her attention over to it groggily, eyes half lidded as she wanted to sleep off this sinking feeling. Soon, she’d start to go down like the Titanic as lunch time acted as her iceberg.

Uyu hoped it was her self-proclaimed master, only to let out a grumble seeing that it wasn’t. Instead, it was Zen who had logged on.

She chatted with him, trying her best not to voice her ever-growing discomfort from skipping last night’s dinner as well as that morning’s breakfast, lunch time now creeping just around the corner.

After a quick talk, she’d call Saeran again...as uncomfortable as that conversation would be, it was her only viable option to kill the onslaught of nausea.

As they talked for a while, Yoosung joined the conversation as well….with talk of food; stew he was in the middle of making to be precise. She felt her stomach churn and rumble as the need for rest fell over her like a weighted blanket, being the only escape from the inevitable vomit now building up inside.

She logged off within another couple of seconds as the hot sweat began.

Dan swallowed thickly as her stomach went haywire, guts twisting, coaxing her to run to the toilet and empty out the water she could at least keep herself going on from the bathroom tap.

Leaving her phone on the bed, she rose to her feet best she could, stumbling till she reached the cold tiles of the bathroom floor. There, she fell to her knees, pulling her long hair back and away from her damp face, lifting up the toilet seat before her.

Within a mere moment, she felt the contents claw at the inside of her throat with a burning sensation, attempting to break free. She shuddered as her body suddenly fell in temperature, before allowing whatever her tummy could offer up to slip past her lips, color in her face all too faded away, displaying her illness. Gagging and choking noises echoed throughout the small room as the rather clearish liquid flowed from her mouth, tears from the discomfort blurring her vision as she blinked them away.

She stayed like that by the toilet for a while, throwing up a couple more times before making certain that event was over for the time being. Uyu considered herself extremely lucky that none was able to touch her or end up in her hair, but not nice to say vomiting wasn’t new to her. She knew the tricks.

Oddly, when something like this would happen, it gave her a tiny amount of strength back. It was strangely relieving, although emptying her stomach further. Her tummy was able to untense a tad.

She blew her nose and wiped her eyes before giving it all a flush down.

A fast teeth brush followed before she stumbled over to bed where she had left her phone. She fiddled with the RFA app until she could reach Saeran’s contact profile. Trying not to let the dread of being ignored again wash over her, she dialed up his number, both nervous and praying this time for a response.

After that last fit was over, her condition would move her into another stage, passing out being the only thing to come next without the blood sugar spike she needed.

The ringing went on for what felt like an eternity as she groaned and pressed her face into the pillow.

“Pick up...pick up damn it please pick up…”.

Uyu wished that she had made a bigger fuss over this earlier rather than attempting to swallow it and wait it out. Being distracted by “the savior” and Saeran’s screaming was something she shouldn’t have allowed herself to do in the midst of endangering her own health. What was she thinking? She knew it would reach this point, it always does if left unchecked. She internally cursed herself for not speaking up more assertively.

After another moment, his angry voice finally came through the speaker and she sighed softly with relief. The last she had heard from him was at four in the morning.

“Feeling this lonely and desperate already, hmm? Tch...what makes you think you have the right to contact me over and over again when I’m doing important work unlike you?”

She huffed on the other end, which he paid no mind.

“All you do is fiddle around like a good for nothing. You didn’t seem so happy to chat with me last time we spoke, but now you’re all eager and ready? You’re just itching for another visit aren’t you? Impatient little princess~.”

He let out an airy chuckle, finding her repeated acts of calling him rather amusing.

“Don’t worry. I have play time all planned out for you soon, you pest. I’ll bother you ten times more than you ever bothered me-”

She cut off his angry rambling, mumbling quietly as she spoke.

“Saeran...can you please come here? I’m not well right now and I don’t know how much longer I can keep myself functioning...I already threw up-”

“Speak up, you complainer! Seriously? You want to see me so badly that you’d put on an elaborate show? Princess...you can’t win any sort of sympathy from me by acting like a brat. Ugg, I’m going to hang up now. I’ll be imagining the million ways I can punish you for this later, stupid toy. I’m busy! Too busy for a bug like you to understand! You waste my time-”

“Wait please...please come here...it’s harder for me to explain over the phone. I...mentioned this problem earlier..please…”

And she had, briefly attempting to bring it up as he invaded a chat room between her and Jaehee.

“Begging now?”

He took on a sad tone of childish mockery as he continued.

“Please please please...please come see me... AHAHA! You airhead. I know what your medical records look like, and therefore I know you’re spinning a lie. You’re not to be trusted just as my savior says. There’s nothing there pertaining to some sort of eating issue other than the fact that your weak little body can’t handle milk…‘Uyu’~.”

He teased at her chosen nickname, and while the irony was why it was picked, this was less than fun.

“Now quit whining over an empty stomach when it hasn’t even been a full day! It’s no fun to see you give up so fast!”

Dan tried her best not to slur her speech, the task assigned to speak up being too hard of one to follow.

“Fine...fine don’t believe me. But…..it doesn’t hurt to come anyways. Since you want to see me suffer….or whatever….”

“Or whatever??? Toy, if I come see you right now...you won’t like what you’re going to get. I haven’t an ounce of pity in me to give you if that’s what you’re searching for. I'm not the type to let you rest in my lap as I stroke your hair and tell you it will be alright, and I won’t give in and feed you. Instead, I’ll make sure you never wish to call me again.”

“...ok…”

“Ok? Ok?? Haha! ...ok then. Let’s see how pathetic you’ve become as you beg and plead to me in person, little actor. Playtime is happening earlier today than I had planned. Congratulations! I’m extra pissed.”

Call ended.

She let out a puff of air, dropping her phone down next to her before closing her eyes, not bothering to stand in preparation for his arrival.

Next chapters All chapters