#You get 21 Guns by Green Day

[alfhildr-the-word-weaver]

Shoutout to my Monkees mutuals for reminding me about the Monkees and their music; now I'm thinking about how She is such a season 2 Damon talking about Katherine song.

Meanwhile, 1864 Damon is of course firmly Vampire Girl by the Misfits (he would die for her, and he did).

[starlightazriel]

necessities 1

desc: modern day (fem)reader x classic prythian azriel au, this will be a series of short chapters, fluffy, smutty, cute, probably some angst and or drama cus it's me

inspired by this request

warnings: 18+, this is slightly silly hahaha, reader is a little airheaded/ditsy, reader is an influencer HAHA, this is ridiculous but i'm obsessed, blood, reader has a gun, drugs mentioned, sexual tension, swearing, readers petite and smaller than a human from prythian world, age gap like reader is literally 21 HAHA so hundreds of years

wc: 2.8k

other parts will be found on my masterlist under azriel

one

What the actual fuck?

Is basically all your mind can muster up as you are quite literally dropping through a hole in the earth. You had fucking told Cody that you didn't want to do the video, the pit that had been in your stomach for the past three days had been enough of a warning to you that something was going to go wrong.

And now... Well... What the actual fuck?

You had lost all sense of time the moment everything around you had disappeared. You can feel things whipping at your legs, your arms, your face. Branches? You didn't even know, couldn't tell.

It could have been a minute, or forty five, either way it felt too long... This fall... There was no fucking way in hell you were surviving it. Silently, you said goodbye to your parents, your friends, your family, your followers, your boyfriend who had been the one to get you into this mess in the first place, but still, you loved him, so you had to say goodbye... Surely, you'd be dead soon.

You thought about what kind of internet memorial your followers would make for you, would you get a hash tag? #BringBubblesHome, #RIPBUBBLES, #BubblesForeverInOurHearts

Would they edit angel wings and a halo onto one of your cutest pictures? They fucking better.

When you finally landed your forehead hit a branch with a loud smack, you whimpered softly at the sting. Pain radiated through your lower back and up your spine. You gasped softly, eyes wide as you looked around, blinked, blinked again. You didn't feel dead, but there was no way you could have survived that, was there?

"Am I fucking dead?" Your own voice surprised you, and you tried to swallow, throat so incredibly dry from the fall you had just taken. "Holy shit, where the fuck-" you cut yourself off, there was a stream near by, it looked- It didn't look real, the moss and flowers that seemed to cover absolutely everything, the green of the leaves and the ferns had to be the most vibrant green you'd ever seen in nature. You shook your head, trying to remember if you had taken any psychedelics lastnight that you hadn't remembered.

You shook your head again, shaking the thought off with it. No... No you hadn't taken anything lastnight.

So this... This was real?

Something snapped in the already too quiet woods, and your heart beat quickened. Okay what do I have? You thought, ripping your Louis Vuitton tote off of your shoulder, at least, with this, you'd have a chance at survival. You quickly dumped the contents out onto the grassy surface so that you could take an inventory of all your necessities. This was kind of like Man vs Wild, right?

Warm blood trickled from your head wound, you felt slightly dizzy, your stomach turning at the red on your hand. You gasped softly, wiping your head with a makeup wipe and tossing it aside. You couldn't worry about littering right now.

Okay, what do I have? The thought echoed in your mind again, the panic of the current situation setting in.

Your iPhone, which, in hindsight you were lucky it had been in your bag and that you weren't filming a reel.

Pink custom Glock with your birthday engraved.

Ammo for said glock, not much, as it wasn't like you normally needed your gun.

Your pink glittery pepper spray.

Three lipglosses, one clear, one plumping, and one nude.

Your trending laneige lip balm obviously because you had done an ad for them recently.

A compact mirror.

Ring light.

Lipliner.

Mascara.

Travel size bag of facial cleansing wipes.

Two protein bars.

Your pretty golden flower claw clip that you had purchased from Tiktok shop.

Your vapes... Both kinds. Which, you wished you'd left behind considering you were trying to kick the habits though maybe you'd need it, your stress levels were certainly starting to rise.

A few carts.

Your SolarBuddy which you had done a TikTok promo for a few months ago and had been carrying it around in your bag ever since. Though it wasn't the best design considering your phone had to be in full sun to charge it, you had still given it a seven out of ten for its convenient travel size.

Your air pods and their charger.

This years summer collection Prada sunglasses.

A travel size tube of aquaphor.

Your favorite moisturizer.

Your favorite skin mist.

Sol de janeiro perfume because, trending.

Tampons.

Panty liners.

An extra pair of panties.

Cinnamon gum.

Spearmint tictacs.

Your lucky pen.

A collection of polaroids held together by a thin rubber band, you knew the contents of those by memory, one of your the golden retriever you had grown up with, one of you with your closest friends, one with you and your parents, one with you and your boyfriend, and one of just you.

Your wallet obviously with your credit cards and your id.

The necessities only.

You checked your phone, cursing to see the little SOS sign in the top right corner. Of course you didn't have any fucking service. Why would you in the middle of bum fuck no where Hansel and Gretle woods?

You grabbed your gun next, and slid the pepper spray into the front of your leggings. Your mouth was still so dry, so you popped a piece of the cinnamon gum in your mouth before piling your belongings back into your tote. Your breath was heavy and you could hear more twigs snap and they were getting closer. Your hand was shaking, your gun wobbling in the air as you held it up in front of you.

"Who's there?" you squeak, standing straighter up on your feet, each and every breath becoming more heavy. And then... Suddenly... There were shadows, lots of them, and- And a man- No a beast. With wings, he had darkly tanned skin, black almost raven colored waves that hung over his forehead in the most seductive way- His eyes... Curious, dark, hazel eyes fixated on you, on your weapon. Blue stones glittered across his knuckles, he looked straight out of Mortal Kombat.

The shadow curled around him, flicking over his ears, almost as if they were telling him a secret. He was so alarmingly large, your pulse quickened.

He was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

And deadly. Terrifying-Horror movie-

"Oh-My-" Is the only words you can get out, the world around suddenly begins breathing. Everything looks as though it's moving in and out, leaving you dizzy before everything goes black, your finger slipped, squeezing the trigger as you fainted.

Azriel stumbled back, his arm flying to the new wound that was on the side of his arm. The sound was so loud he was almost sure Tamlin would some how catch wind of it. Azriel groaned, what the fuck kind of crazy sick cross bow shit was that? It had felt like metal, hot and so fucking fast, right across the side of his arm. He was bleeding now, bleeding onto your pristine white shirt, that looked more like an undergarment. Despite you shooting him, with your weapon, he had still caught you as you fell.

In all his recent meetings to the Spring Court... Azriel had never expected this.

A human girl. But not just any human girl- No nothing like any human he had seen in the mortal lands. Not even how Nesta or Elain had been before the Cauldron had made them. You- You weren't from this world. That much he could tell-though he hadn't been able to even get a word out before you'd fainted on the spot.

He tucked- Whatever it was you had just shot him with away in your strange bag. He contemplated his next move.

He knew the smart thing to do, he should leave you here, fly home and forget he had ever even found you. His family didn't exactly know that he was frequenting the Spring Court.

After everything that had happened with Elain- And everything Rhys had said... Azriel had taken quite a few lovers, the most recent a lesser fae who lived in a small cottage on the outskirts of Spring.

After more long moments contemplating on leaving you, he lifted you up and carried you to a small cave nearby. He winced, his wound was healing slowly, though it was definitely healing. The sun was poking over the mountains now, his jaw flexed. He knew the others would be looking for him soon.

With Nyx in the picture now- Rhys was even more cautious about newcomers... And a human? A human with some strange powerful weapon- Strange clothes and shoes? Surely he couldn't bring you back with him.

"Who the fuck are you?" He jumped at the sound of your voice, his head quickly snapping back to you, his thought coming to a halt. Fuck... Your scent was so strong, so sensual, so delicious.

"Don't go reaching for whatever that weapon is that you have- I'll break all of your fingers," Azriel warns, noticing you scrambling up from your position on the caves floor and reaching for the strange bag you had been carrying. You freeze, your heart hammering against your chest as you stare back at him.

"Are you going to kill me?" you squeak out, his wings were tucked behind him, but your eyes kept drifting to them before landing back on his face.

Despite the sheer terror coursing through you, you couldn't help but melt under his gaze. He was so large, hunched over in the small cave, his abnormally big, scarred fingers covering over his knees. You couldn't help but wonder the size of his cock, with hands- With height like that. And he was sexy... Holy fucking shit he was sexy.

"I could be asking you the same," Azriel responds, his eyes still fixated on you. Your scent was driving him crazy. Was it really so easy to arouse a human girl? "You shot me, with whatever that thing was, and then fainted. Out of the two of us I'd say you can't be trusted," he raises his arm, showing the now scabbed over wound.

"It's a glock nineteen," you mumble your eyes flitting over the cut. How long had you been sleeping that it had healed so much already? "I'm sorry, are you okay?" you finally ask, clearly, he wasn't going to kill you right? He would have done it by now... Right? "I've never- I've never shot outside the range before-"

"The range?" His eyes are so intensely fixed on you that your heart rate picks up.

"The gun range, where you shoot guns?"

"I'm assuming what you hit me with, is a gun?" he clarifies, my eyes flit over to his knives, his clothing... He looked like he was straight off a movie set.

You slowly nod, your cheeks pink under his intense curious stare. Not even his shadows could tell him a lick about you."What's your name?" he asks quietly, his eyes flickering slightly.

"Y/n, but my friends- And my followers, call me Bubbles," you're fighting the urge to pull your compact mirror from your bag, the thought of your current appearance in front of this- Mysterious sex god creature- It wasn't sitting well with you. "What's yours?" You ask, your cheeks warming, had he even blinked, once?

"Azriel," he says softly, that curious twinkle in his eyes sent your cheeks burning deeper. "Your followers, are you a prophet or something?" he asks, and he figures by the scrunch of your nose and the giggle that escapes from your lips it must have been a silly question.

"No, I'm an influencer and an instagram model, depending who you ask," you giggle again at the idea of you as a prophet. Maybe you were, for trends and the best plumping lip gloss.

"I have no idea what any of that means," Azriel admits, his voice is so smooth and sensual, you think you could listen to it forever. It warms something deep inside of you, a part of you that you hadn't even known existed.

Azriels lips twitched in amusement as he watched you blush before him, he had no idea why he was entertaining this. He had no idea why he was so fascinated by you, though, you were human, he had never seen anything like you. His shadows were just as curious, in fact, they had been the final deciding factor in whether or not he was going to leave you. You weren't like anything hed ever seen. Much smaller than any human he'd ever seen from the mortal lands, softer features, full, juicy lips that sent heat to his cock when his eyes rested on them for too long, big eyes with long unnaturally long lashes, long hair that flowed behind your back... And the smell of you... Like nothing he had ever scented before.

"Where am I?" You ask finally breaking the tense silence, your throat felt unbearably dry and scratchy, he hadn't stopped staring and it was starting to unnerve you.

"Prythian," he answers quickly, easily, you can't help but shiver at the way his raspy low voice travels along your bones. Prythian? It doesn't sound like anywhere on earth you'd ever heard of, your head spun.

"And how do I get back to California?" your voice is weary, strained, he raises an eyebrow.

"Um," he frowns, running his scared hand through his hair. "I couldn't tell you," he admits, and he couldn't, the land you spoke of was nothing he ever heard of. "How did you get here?"

"So like-" you start, not even knowing how to explain it. "My boyfriend has this youtube channel he explores abandoned buildings, supposed haunted houses- Ancient spooky ruins- Shit like that," you pause, your eyes meeting his, a sigh escapes your lips because you can tell he isn't following. "Anyway, I'm minding my business, being cute in the video because that's all I ever do in his videos. We were in some creepy ass old tunnel underground I touch one thing- One, and next thing I know I'm falling- For I don't even know how long. And I ended up here," you finish, nervously fidgeting with the charm on your necklace.

Azriels head spun, holding a conversation with you was proving to be quite exhausting. A tunnel, an underground tunnel got you here. He didn't know how to tell you, but there may be no way back to wherever you came from.

"Youtube? Video?" he asks wearily, fighting the urge to rub his temples.

"Sorry," you sigh softly, starting to relax a tiny bit, clearly, he wasn't going to kill you. You grab your phone from your bag, noticing the way his eyes narrow, zeroing in on the phone. You didn't miss the way he rested his hand on the top of his dagger. "Still no fucking signal," you mutter in frustration. "Would be so much easier if I could show you all this stuff, anyway... Where I'm from there's something called the internet, kind of like endless stupidity but also endless information? At your fingertips... That's basically what the internet is." You hadn't realized how not cut out you were for teaching anything, your expertise was in trending lipgloss and skin care.

"Interesting," Azriel responds, still looking at you so curiously. He didn't understand why he felt the need to help you, why he even cared. "Maybe Rhys will have an idea," he muses, mostly talking to himself. "You know. You're very lucky... If someone else had found you-" he cuts himself off, you cross your arms over your chest, narrowing your eyes at him.

"I can protect myself, to an extent," you say back, gesturing to your bag, though you had no idea what you'd even be up against out here, you did have your gun and pepper spray.

"Still lucky it was me, some on this land would swallow you for breakfast and not think twice," he smirks, leaning in a bit, his fingers wrapped tightly around his bent knees. "See, I'll still eat you for breakfast but I'll ask first," his eyes twinkled flirtatiously and your cheeks burned, this wasn't normal for you. You weren't used to being flustered, you were used to men falling at your feet and buying you gifts, you had also always worn the pants, in any relationship you'd ever been in and you weren't used to a man being so forward. You opened and closed your mouth, for once in your life at a loss for words.

"Whats wrong y/n?" he asks, the way your name leaves his lips is so slow, and sensual... And was it hot in here?

"What are you some kind of bat-man siren?" You breathe out, scrunching your nose, he stifles a laugh, his eyes still twinkling brightly with his amusement. "And you know, for being so- like- mythical and handsome- You still sound like any other fuckboy," your arms are crossed over your chest again as you stare back at him, he laughs again, shaking his head at you.

"Fuckboy?"

"It's a man that sleeps with a lot of women."

"Come back to my city with me?"

"Definitely a fuck boy."

-

a/n: HAHAHAHA thank you to my frands @velarisdusk @scorpioriesling @cynthiesjmxazrielslover for the help this is gonna be great.

[quack-quack-snacks]

Cat Mug (A Reason to Live)

My Navigation and Masterlist

My Sweet Home Masterlist

My Cha Hyun-su Masterlist

Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x GN!Reader Summary: When Hyun-su first arrived at Green Home, the only plan he had for life was to end his. He never would have thought his plan to end his life caused by the lack of any reason to continue living would lead to him finding one. Warnings: Slight season 1 spoilers, self-harm (both the reader and Hyun-su), suicide ideation, smoking (weed), illegal smuggling of contraband (weed), and comfort. Word Count: 2,728 Extra Notes: Cannabis is highly illegal in Korea. This is set in an AU with no apocalypse/monsterization.

When Hyun-su first arrived at Green Home, the only plan he had for life was to end his. 

It was a few weeks into living there that he came to the terrifying realization when the blade of the weed chopper flew inches from his face. He didn’t actually want to die, he had just lost all of his reasons to live. 

Most of his days were spent inside his apartment, testing different video games for companies until his eyes dried up to the point of tears and his head throbbed in pain. The pain was a welcome distraction that helped keep his thoughts averted away from the disaster that was his life. He didn’t even have a cover or bed stand for his twin-sized mattress. It lay on the floor of his small living space, placed directly under the windows so he could watch the stars right before he fell asleep.

The stars were his only solace in this wretched world that took everything from him. Everything was gone because he offered a few quarters to a boy in high school that he tried to make friends with. At first, he blamed all the unfair treatment that he was subjected to on anything and everything around him, but after a while, he started to think it was his fault.

Maybe he was being cocky when he offered Do-hun those coins.

Maybe he was worthy of the bullying he put him through.

Maybe he deserved the way his parents blamed him for being bullied.

Maybe he earned the way his sister was embarrassed to be related to him. 

The more those thoughts circled in his mind, the more he started to actually believe them. The more he started to believe them, the more he started to hate himself for everything.

His life was on a steep slope leading to a pit of despair until he met you. 

It was around 6 p.m. on Friday, August 21 of 2020.

For you, that meant you were heading back from the grocery store after stacking up on your food for the next week.

For Hyun-su, at least on this specific Friday, it meant he was heading back from testing a game for the video game production company Syx Arus. He wasn’t in the best mood. The game was a total bust; glitches around every corner, the gun wouldn’t shoot for the majority of the time he tested it, and he ended up getting paid half of what he was promised because of his feedback being ‘too blunt and disrespectful.’

He was walking through the hallway toward his apartment with his earbuds in and his head down. His hands were stuck in his pockets as he tried to focus on how the loud music hurt his ears and not the frustration building inside him. Because his attention was directed elsewhere, he completely missed seeing you as you stood in front of your apartment door. You had been shifting the grocery bags in your hands around so you could have a free hand to unlock and open the door but let out a gasp as you felt a tall figure bump into you, sending the bag full of a carton of eggs and a loaf of bread onto the floor. You let out a wince as you heard a crunch, positive that at least a few eggs were broken. 

“Holy shit, I’m so sorry!” You heard from behind you, turning around to see a boy. He was tall, and his hair was a dark brown, almost black, unkempt mess on his head. He yanked the earbuds once residing in his ears out and you could hear the loud music blasting out of them before he paused it on his phone. 

“Don’t worry about it,” you reassured him before your lips curved into a slightly teasing smirk. “You just cleared a hand up for me. I should be thanking you,” you let out a little laugh as you finally had a free hand to slip your key into the lock of your apartment door before turning it until you heard that familiar, satisfying click, signaling the door being unlocked. 

 Just as you pushed the door open, he spoke again. “Do you need any help?”

You smiled at him over your shoulder. “Sure, could you just grab that bag?” You gestured with your head to the bag on the floor holding your broken eggs and dented bread and he gave an enthusiastic and adorably determined nod as he used one hand to hold the door open for you and the other to pick up the bag. You walked in, quickly setting your groceries down on the small dining table you had just outside of your cramped kitchen. You turned to the boy and took the bag from his hand, walking to the sink as you took the carton apart to inspect the damage. To your surprise, there wasn’t much. Only a few eggs were broken, and although you would need to put them into a different carton because the broken eggs had spilled onto this one, you still wouldn’t need to make a second trip to get more eggs. 

You turned to peek over your shoulder and saw the boy standing awkwardly outside the door to your kitchen, rocking back and forth on his heels as he looked at the miscellaneous decorations you had hanging on the walls. You breathed out a small laugh before walking to your pantry. Without turning back to look at him, you asked, “Do you like tea?”

“What?” He asked, not expecting the change from silence to a soft-spoken conversation.

“Do you like tea?” You repeated, finally turning back to look at him, two boxes of different tea flavors in your hands. “Or are you more of a coffee drinker?”

“Oh,” he replied, looking kind of stunned by your question. “Tea is fine.”

You gave him a smile at his soft-spoken words. Although this was the first time you had ever seen, let alone spoken to, the boy, you could tell he was not much of a talker or an expressive person. Setting the boxes of tea on the counter, you took out your kettle and started filling it with water before setting it on the stove with the fire turned on high. As it started to boil, you took out two mugs and placed them down on your kitchen’s bar counter where two bar stools were stationed on the other side. You gestured to one of them after setting the mugs down in their respective places and he hesitantly sat down. 

“So,” you asked as you walked back over to where you set down the tea boxes, picking them up and bringing them back over to him, hiding them behind your back for dramatic effect. “Lemon and ginger,” you pulled one box out from behind your back before quickly realizing it was the wrong box and frantically trying to switch the boxes before he could see the other flavor, an action that caused his lips to twitch in a slight smile for a moment before disappearing again. “Or spiced chai?”

“I’ll do the chai,” he decided and you nodded with a smile. 

“Good choice.”

You placed a spicy chai tea bag into his cup - a mug with a cheesy meme of a cat wearing a ski mask sitting on top of a burger on the front saying “cat burger-lar” - and placed your choice of tea in your mug - a plain white mug that said “World’s Best Grandpa” on the front. 

Waiting for the water to boil, you reached your hand across the counter to him in greeting. After introducing yourself, you asked, “I haven’t seen you around before, are you the kid who just moved into 1410?”

He nodded his head as he took your hand. “Yeah, I moved in a few weeks ago. I’m Cha Hyun-su.”

“Well I apologize for not bringing some cookies over sooner, Hyun-su,” you told him with a teasing lilt in your voice. Your eyes fluttered down to where his hand sat in yours and you did an almost imperceptible double take when you saw the scars littering his forearm beneath his black hoodie sleeve. When he noticed you saw them, he gently took his hand out of yours and tugged his sleeve down before standing up. 

“Thank you for the tea, but I should be going now,” he told you abruptly but politely and turned towards your door, intending on leaving as fast as he could, not wanting your pity or anything of the like. 

“Wait!” You called out after him and he turned just to see you quickly pouring some of the, now boiling, water into what was going to be his cup, running over to him, and giving it to him. When he looked shocked and confused, you gave him a lopsided smile. “You thanked me for the tea but you never even got to drink any.”

He looked back and forth between the mug in his hand, warming his palm through the ceramic wall, and your eyes, warming his heart with your soft gaze. He didn’t see any pity, just understanding. It was strange and he couldn’t possibly understand how you could feel his pain. 

“This is your mug,” he stated bluntly and held the mug back out to you but you just gently pushed it back towards him.

“Take it. You can give it to me next time,” you promised.

Next time.

Your words bounced around in his mind, banging off the walls of his brain until they settled and he gave you a slight nod. You walked him out the door, waving him off as he walked down the hall towards his door. 

Next time.

It was now Tuesday, August 25 of 2020, and you hadn’t seen Hyun-su since your first meeting. You were a little worried you had scared him off with your possibly too forward advances and how you’d seen his scars but decided to focus on the positive and just thought that he probably had a life of his own so he wouldn’t be roaming through the halls every day, waiting to bump into you and break your eggs again just to talk to you. 

Although you kind of wish he would.

It was 7:06 p.m. when you walked up the stairs of Green Home, sunset. You intended on heading to the roof and smoking for a bit so you would have less of a chance of being caught by anyone. As you used your shoulder to push open the doors leading to the roof, you saw the boy you’d been waiting to see for the past week standing on the edge. You let out a sigh and leaned against the wall.

“Kind of a lame way to die, is it not?” You called out to him and he flinched at your voice. Your eyes widened as he leaned farther toward the edge for a moment before regaining his balance and looking back at you. You sighed once again before giving him a sad smile. Popping yourself off the wall, you gestured for him to follow you as you walked around the entrance of the door to the stack of boxes leading to the roof of it. Hopping up, you turned around to hold a hand out for Hyun-su to grab as he followed you up. You turned back around to settle yourself down on the edge of the small box housing the exit to the stairs and dug around in your bag as Hyun-su settled down next to you. Letting out a little cry of success as you found what you were looking for, you pulled out the small mint box you used for storing your blunts. It was relatively safe and if anyone ever asked for a mint you could always just pretend to be really protective over them. That way you were just an asshole, not a criminal. 

As you pulled out your lighter and held the blunt up to your lips, you noticed Hyun-su staring at you. You tilted your head to look at him and held the blunt out for him to take. “Want some?” 

He shook his head, looking down at his lap. “I don’t smoke cigarettes.”

You gave a small laugh at his ignorance as you lifted it back to your lips. “It’s weed actually.”

His head snapped towards you comically and you laughed more, interrupting yourself again as you tried to light the spliff. “Wait, but… isn’t that illegal?”

You gave a small shrug as you finally lit the edge of the blunt and took a hit before replying. “It is. Why, are you gonna tell on me?” You leaned over slightly to bump him with your shoulder as you teased him and he vehemently shook his head no. 

“No, I just… I never would’ve thought you’d be the type of person to smoke marijuana. Kind of surprised me.”

You let out a hum of acknowledgment. “Well, I wasn’t originally from Korea, I lived in the States for most of my life until I moved here when I first turned 18. This is the last I have of the stuff I bought with me. Took a hell of a lot of work to sneak it past border control.”

He looked at you in a type of awe that made your lips tilt up in amusement. You would’ve never thought someone would look at you like that after you told them about how you illegally smuggled marijuana into a country that made it highly illegal. The slight movement of him tugging his hoodie sleeves over his hands caused you to release a breath of air before you directed your attention to where you were given a beautiful view of the sunset right from your spot on top of the building. 

He watched you as you took a hit from the blunt and released the smoke from between your lips. At that moment, he couldn’t think of anyone more beautiful than how you looked with the sun reflecting its last golden rays on your face. And to think, he would’ve missed this if he had taken that step forward just a second before you arrived behind him. “I was in a plane crash when I was 12,” you told him and his eyes widened in surprise. “It was… bad. There was a lot of fire and chaos just everywhere,” you glanced at him nervously and looked away when you saw him watching you intensely. You focused your attention on stubbing out your blunt on the rough concrete you sat on, no longer in the mood for a quick high. “Both my parents were on the flight with me, and yet - by some miracle doctors still haven’t found an explanation for,” you rolled your eyes in frustration at the thought. “I was the only one to live out of us. Most people on the plane ended up passing away with only a few coming out alive.”

Hyun-su wanted so desperately to grab your hand and comfort you but he couldn’t bring himself to lift his hand off his thigh. 

“For the longest time,” you said as you fiddled with your sleeve, rolling it up for him to see. “I hated myself for being alive when they weren’t.”

When you finally had your sleeve rolled up, he could clearly see the physical evidence of your guilt and pain. When he looked back up at you, he was met with your eyes looking back at him with that same look of understanding hiding within the lines of your pupils. 

Maybe you did understand.

“I know what it’s like to hate yourself and to want to take the pain away, but I promise you,” you reached out to grab his hand and squeezed it reassuringly, doing what he couldn’t all those moments ago. “It does get better.”

When you smiled at him, he couldn’t help but give a smile back, his lips tilting up to show his appreciation for you and your words. “Thank you.”

You shook your head, not letting go as you returned your gaze to the setting sun, the stars taking its place in the palace of the deep abyss in the sky. “Don’t thank me, just live.”

Maybe he did have a reason to live after all.

[mokulule]

Almanac - Chapter 4

DP x DC Dead on Main First | Masterpost Note: I made a new masterpost to subscribe to over on my new blog where I organize my writing @mokus-invenstory. Links on the other chapters have been updated, I will still notify on the old post with updates.

Chapter 4 - October 21-22nd, Orinoids Meteor Shower

Training with Fright Knight was an experience.

Jason was no stranger to harsh training regimes, but it seemed like Fright Knight truly had no other duties to attend to. And maybe that was what ghosts did? Find the one thing they were good at and then do it for all eternity? It was exhausting, unrelenting.

Every day he went to the kitchen to find a plate of breakfast ready, thankfully it wasn’t the same thing every day. He wondered if it was courtesy of the Lunch Lady, but he never saw anyone else and the cupboards and pantry were empty.

The mystery of who and how human food came to be here itched at him but as long as the magical castle felt reluctant to even let him get to the kitchen in the first place (he’d yet to walk a path quite the same there) it was something he would have to leave unexplored.

He ate and then as he was done as if summoned Fright Knight would collect him and drill him until he dropped.

The knight treated Jason as if he’d never held a sword before starting basic at stance and simple attacks repeated ad nauseum, with the occasional cardio and strength building exercises. While Jason preferred guns, hand to hand combat and occasionally knives, it wasn’t the first time he’d fought with a longer bladed weapon. His general training meant he could pick up most weapons and use them successfully so he thought it was rather unfair - not that he was fool enough to raise that opinion, this wasn’t the first stern training master he’d served under.

And arguably he didn’t have much experience with medieval style broadswords. So he sucked it up and did as ordered.

There were no breaks throughout the day, no more food. You’d think it was a form of torture that he didn’t get to eat more than breakfast, but Jason, while he got tired, never got hungry throughout the day. Apparently he got the rest of his needs covered through energy diffusion or some shit - assuming he’d understood the king correctly.

His waking moments were repetitive, but he was not bored as such. Not that he was enjoying himself either, but he was busy, occupied. Training and learning new skills were never a waste - he had to tell himself that. But when he laid in the barren room, which he still considered his prison, in those short moments before exhausted sleep claimed him, horror creeped in; horror that this would be the rest of his life.

Another day another drill.

The weight of the practice sword in his hand felt as familiar as breathing after 9 days of non stop practice.

“You are becoming complacent,” Fright Knights voice boomed as always from everywhere at once despite him clearly looming right in from of him.

Jason tilted his head regarding the knight for a moment. He wondered how much sass he could get away with.

“Well you could give me a challenge instead of this,” he returned evenly.

Somehow Jason had the distinct feeling the knight was smiling unseen in the darkness under the helmet.

“Very well,” his voice rumbled like a storm in the distance, setting all of Jason senses alert at the coming threat. His grip tightened on the practice sword.

The knight turned and flew over to set aside the neon green sword he carried at his side in favor of a practice sword in the weapons rack by the wall. For the first time since Jason had seen the knight kneel before his king, his feet touched ground.

He stalked towards Jason, a weight and realness to him now as the armored shoes clanged against the cobblestone. The hair at the back of Jason’s neck stood on end as the air charged with his approach. Every instinct in his body told him to be afraid. Someone with less combat experience might have frozen, Jason picked his guard up and turned so he made a smaller target.

The cobblestone knocked his breath out and his sword clattered across the stones. His ears rang and he could already feel his left eye swelling from where it had met an armored fist. Above him a couple of shooting stars shot across the clear sky in rapid succession before the Knight stepped close. He loomed above Jason and for one horrifying moment Jason thought he would ram the practice sword through him, blunt tip and all.

Instead the knight held out a hand.

Jason wet his dry lips and took the hand. He was pulled unceremoniously to his feet.

“Did you notice what I did?”

Not only did Jason notice that twist Fright Knight had done that had sent his sword flying, he very much felt the way he socked him in the face.

“Yes.” Jason had not expected he’d be dueling something like a fucking Kryptonian, nobody that size had the right to be so fast. The trick to fighting Kryptonians and people of that speed class was more in anticipating their moves rather than reacting to them, and more importantly coming prepared with something to incapacitate them with. Jason had no clue what might be Fright Knight’s weakness, probably wouldn’t be so easy as to laugh at him.

The knight nodded at his response.

“Good, now to counter.”

He then walked Jason through no less than five possible counters, to what was apparently a rather risky move he’d done - had he been alive at least. The counters were well and good, but as long as Jason had no way to counter the speed, the knight could repeat the move at his leisure.

Not that Jason pointed that out. No, Jason practiced dutifully and found himself seeing the stars multiple times that day. He got very well acquainted with the cobblestone. On the seventh meeting with the ground, he thought he saw a glimpse of light from a window high above the courtyard. He could have sworn it was the king watching, but as he got back to his feet and looked back up the light was gone. Maybe it had just been a reflection, a trick of the light from one of the many shooting stars.

Still, reminded of why he was here, his mood soured. Yes, Jason had put himself in this situation, but he’d expected to die for his sacrifice - and maybe that would have been too easy an out, but he’d certainly not expected to be discarded, like the unwanted possession he apparently was.

Resentment curled in his gut. Poor little king never wanting to have been summoned having to take Jason as payment. It was clearly such an ordeal.

Jason snarled getting back to his feet and for the first time he went on the attack. Fright Knight seemed amused, which only egged him on. Jason reached for the All-Blades but of course they didn’t manifest, because in this stupid place not even someone named fucking Fright Knight counted as true evil.

He let Jason wear himself out, disarmed him again, and punched him hilt first in the stomach. Jason crumpled over the practice sword and slid down to his knees, gasping for breath.

The knight considered him for a moment, waiting to see if he would get up again. When he didn’t, he made a minute shake of his head.

“You have spirit, but your mortal trappings do you no favors.”

Jason couldn’t help laughing at that. What was he supposed to do? Apologize for being alive?

“Blame your king.”

Oo o oO

That night Jason dreamt of Gotham, or more specifically of Crime Alley. Dick was patrolling in Jason’s absence, but he didn’t know the Alley like Jason did. He didn’t know of the small shadowed nook in that building that made for a perfect hidey hole. He didn’t see the gun pointed at him, didn’t move until the shot rent the air.

Jason sat up in bed gasping and shaking.

It was a dream, it was a stupid dream. He fumbled automatically for his phone, before he remembered, there was no way to make sure. He was stuck in the realm of the dead. It was a dream, he firmly reminded himself.

Still he shook and couldn’t bring himself to go back to sleep. Dick’s shocked face haunted him whenever he closed his eyes.

Gingerly he stepped out of bed. Clearly the order to keep Jason alive hadn’t kept the knight from beating him to hell and back. A particularly spectacular bruise mottled the side of his torso in purples and blues. From the twinging pain with every breath there was probably a few bent or broken ribs underneath that.

He walked to the bathroom, where he’d hung his clothes to dry after washing them in the sink. He reached out to touch them to find them cold and damp, a testament to how little sleep he’d managed. He shivered at just the thought of pulling them on, but he didn’t exactly have anything else to wear.

He couldn’t go back to sleep. He needed to move. That gun had been aimed for Dick’s head. It was just a dream, he reminded himself sternly. He needed to pull himself together.

Taking a deep breath he reached for his underwear first, pulling it on with a grimace. Disgusting was not a strong enough word, he thought grimly. He was cold and miserable by the time he’d finished dressing and trapped his damp socks in his boots and tied them.

Dressed, he left the room for the hallways, expecting the castle to give him a good walk around as usual - expect he’d barely walked down two hallways until a door revealed the kitchen. There was a cup sitting on the table in front of his usual place. Curious he walked over to pick up the steaming mug, he put it up to his nose and sniffed it. His eyebrows rose in surprise - hot cocoa.

He glanced around and like always saw no sign of the presence of anyone but himself. He took a sip and amended his earlier assessment with a hum of pleasure, this rich taste could only be hot chocolate. It sat warm in his belly and he found some of the restless energy leaving him. He sat down and allowed himself to relax. He held the cup with both hands and let the warmth seep into his fingers with a sigh.

Maybe the castle didn’t entirely hate him after all.

He sipped slowly, savoring the treat. The hot chocolate was good, it wasn’t quite Alfred’s but-

A wave of homesickness overtook him and he slumped forward in grief. Maybe Jason would manage to escape some day, but Alfred was not exactly young anymore. People died suddenly sometimes, even when they seemed healthy.

Jason wasn’t there anymore. He couldn’t check on his family. Not Alfred, not Dick (it was just a nightmare!) or anyone. A mocking laughter haunted him as if from a distance, a memory wanting to drown him. He clenched his fits tight, he wasn’t back there. He was here, property of the ghost king, safe.

Unlike everyone else.

The Joker was still in Gotham. Still alive despite everything, a threat to everyone and Jason was useless.

He was a fucking idiot. He’d sacrificed himself willingly, but he hadn’t expected to have to live with the choice.

Did that make him a coward too? On top of everything?

He stood. He couldn’t sit here. He had to move. Before he knew it he was walking through hallways, uncaring where they took him. Left, right, nothing mattered. He just had to move. He didn’t know how long it he walked until he found himself, breathing heavily, in front of a stairwell. There was something familiar about it. His eyes were drawn to the path down. He’d never chosen to go down before. There was something down there. He took a step forward.

“Jason.”

He froze and spun around at the echoey voice. It felt like all the breath left his body, sucked into the gravity of the king.

Toxic green eyes flicked from Jason to the stairwell. Dark brows drew together in a frown, and the shadows suddenly seemed darker, deeper, like places you could fall into and disappear never to be seen again.

He floated closer. The pressure increased. Jason locked his knees to keep standing. There was a siren blaring in his mind, a scream lasting an eternity. Cold fingers touched his swollen eye soothingly and Jason gasped, a quiet little intake of breath into his burning lungs.

He wanted to move away. He wanted to lean into it. He wanted- He did nothing.

The gloved tips of fingers became the flat of a palm cradling the side of his face oh so gentle. Jason felt wetness in his eyes and blinked. He couldn’t handle gentle right now. His skin tingled and the swelling fell. The king looked at him, green eyes sad.

“Are you okay?”

Was he okay!? Jason ripped away, fury finally breaking the spell.

“The Hell I am!” In his mind Dick’s shocked face, a second from being shot flashed, “my family could be hurt right now, dying-“ a crowbar dragged across a concrete floor, a terrible laughter skittered across his senses, and every hair stood on end- “tortured.”

Jason took a step forward into the king’s space, snarled, “and I can do nothing!” into his shocked face. Playing at innocence, as if Jason’s words were a surprise. As if he didn’t know exactly what he’d done. He had changed the wording, acting like he’d done Jason a great favor. He chose to keep him here, useless, powerless.

He stepped back. Looked at the king with anger gone cold. “Killing me would have been a mercy.”

Jason braced himself for the worst. He’d said his piece. He expected an explosion, a onesided fight, for his brain to melt out his ears, something other than the hollow eyed gaze only vaguely looking in his direction.

The lights flickered and finally the king seemed somewhat present in his body. He looked at Jason with the most neutral face in existence.

“I shall relieve you of my presence, goodnight.”

He flew casually over to the staircase and went up. It was only then Jason snapped out of it.

No! How dare he!

He ran after him, but of course he was gone. The cursed castle made sure of it. Jason wanted a fight and he would not even give him that! He punched the wall with a frustrated scream that cut off into a sob.

“Shit.” He rubbed angrily at his eyes. He was fucking pathetic. Couldn’t even pick a fight right.

Oo o oO

Fright Knight found him in the practice yard, doing drills, sweaty and shaking from exhaustion.

“You are pathetic human, sit down before you fall down.”

Jason glared. “No.”

The knight promptly pushed him down on his ass. “Do not test me. I was tasked to keep you alive. Drink.”

A bottle of water was shoved into his hands.

Mulishly Jason did as he was told. It was only when he’d taken the first sip he realized just how thirsty he was and he had to force himself not to just chug the entire bottle in one go.

Fright Knight watched him with that detached disgust he had for mortal weaknesses, like the need for sleep or in this case sustenance. He was a fucking annoying, stuck up bastard, but-

“Why are you not evil?” Jason asked in frustration, too emotionally worn to consider whether that was a smart question to ask. If he had been evil, Jason could give him a proper fight. Let the knight try to phase through the All-blades.

When no response of any kind came, he looked up. It seemed he had rendered the knight speechless.

Slowly hesitantly the knight finally spoke, “You speak as if you’d prefer that I was evil, yet I was led to believe you are aligned with so called heroes.”

Jason scoffed and looked away. “Not a hero.”

Fright Knight floated down to sit crosslegged in front of Jason, his glowing green sword drawn and resting across his knees.

“I am the spirit of fear itself, I am neither good nor evil, I just am.”

Jason barked a short chuckle, of fucking course. Then, he explained the concept of the All-Blades to the knight; flaming magical blades fueled by the soul and blood of the wielder, only able to be summoned in the presence of true evil. The knight in turn looked very intrigued.

“I would have liked to match my Soul-Shredder to your All-Blades. A glorious bout that would have been…” the knight said wistfully.

“Soul-Shredder is the name of your sword?”

“Indeed,” Fright Knight chuckled maliciously in a way that ran cold down Jason’s back, an effect that was done on purpose judging by the greedy glow in his gaze. Jason felt fairly certain he feed on fear.

The knight raised the green blade between them and turned it to let Jason see every facet with obvious passion. “One cut from Soul-Shredder will land you in a dimension of your worst nightmare.”

Jason’s breath caught in his throat. No. He refused to think about it. He forced a half choked laugh, “and you claim not to be evil.”

The knight looked thoughtful for a moment. “Maybe if we had met in the previous king’s rule, we could have had a proper match.”

Jason frowned in confusion. “Why would who the King is matter to your nature?”

“Because human,” Fright Knight began, green eyes boring into Jason, “the King is the most important soul in the Realms. His nature affects the very air from which we get our energy.”

“Pariah’s reign was a dark time,” there was an almost nostalgic tone to his voice as he continued, “he sought to conquer, control and enslave and I was his loyal servant, as is my duty as a knight. But Pariah was so bad that having no king at all was a better option than him, and he was sealed away by the Ancients, even if it left the Realms stagnant and disconnected.”

He paused for a moment to let that knowledge sink in.

“Our Phantom is a king who never wanted to rule, and has actively avoided it. It has been amusing to see him grow into the role.”

“And as long a he doesn’t grow into a power hungry despot he will always be better than the last?” Jason asked bitterly.

The knight barked out delighted laughter at that.

“Make no mistake, mortal, Phantom is a good king now, but he is young, still changeable by nature. These years are crucial. But should the worst happen and my king become a despot, as you put it?”

Fright Knight shrugged carelessly. “I will merely do as I have always done and that is to serve my king. I am the spirit of fear after all. It is only my concern now because my king wishes to avoid that fate.”

Leather creaked as the knight tightened the hold on his blade. He looked straight at Jason. Despite no mouth being visible, Jason had the distinct feeling the knight was grinning.

“We may yet have our bout someday.”

-

And that was chapter 4... nobody is really in a good place here? Except Fright Knight, he's having fun.

Comments are much appreciated <3

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[yallthemwitches]

Film Studies

The transfigured projector pours light onto Lily’s face, creating a glow akin to moonlight. Every time he is able, he steals a glance at her, loving how her eyes are always wide with wonder despite already knowing what is going to happen. Her gaze dances around the screen, trying to take in every small detail until, finding something that interests her, she leans in just enough to whisper some arbitrary fact in his ear, as precious to him as a prayer.  He wants her to look at him the way she looks at those images: full of awe and a love purely born from happiness. But sitting next to her, on his bed, not touching, is currently the best he is going to get.

I wrote this piece for @jilytoberfest as a double prompt for Day 21 "Let me distract you" and Day 23 Indulging in Hobbies, as I originally had no intention of writing a piece a day, but now that I've miraculously kept up with the prompts, I feel a sense of duty to continue my daily streak..I guess we will see.

AO3 Here

 “Are you scared yet?”

“Not particularly.”

On the projection, an elevator chimes and golden doors open. A wave of blood rushes towards the screen, jump cutting from the whoosh of the fluid to a close up of a screaming child, mouth open but mute. 

“--Now?”

“If you keep asking Evans, I might never be.”

Lily makes a pouting face and it coils under James’ skin, itching to turn his head and kiss it away. Instead, he keeps a safe, friendly distance from her like always. It's an unspoken barrier neither of them dare to cross—but Merlin does he want to.

 At this point he could write a rulebook about being with her: shoulders can rest together side by side, but never overlap. Feet can touch, but only in the shifting of bodies. Arms stay firmly at the sides, behind the head, in the lap— never NEVER reaching across the small distance to feel her, so close yet absolutely out of bounds. 

He has being friends with Lily down to a science—but it doesn’t mean it isn’t absolutely torture. 

To be fair, it is mostly by his design. He had been the one to suggest Muggle Movie Mondays (he is proud to say he came up with the name) and he suggested using his dorm to do so. In theory, it was a brilliant idea, if he had thought through the finer points…like the fact that the only comfortable place to watch a film was to share space on his bed.

And despite what all of his mates say, he really hadn’t created the idea to make passes at her. He was honestly interested in the films she talked about. Being able to spend quality time with her was a perk, but mostly he loves the way her face lights up when he asks about a certain aspect of muggle movies. It brings out a light in her that nothing else did. She always becomes so animated, lost in her own thoughts when going on about a particular director or how something was made (“It's called a shot because it clicks like a gun—you do know what a gun is right?”). It reminds him of himself with quidditch: there are just some things that make the world feel livable.

The transfigured projector pours light onto Lily’s face, creating a glow akin to moonlight. Every time he is able, he steals a glance at her, loving how her eyes are always wide with wonder despite already knowing what is going to happen. Her gaze dances around the screen, trying to take in every small detail until, finding something that interests her, she leans in just enough to whisper some arbitrary fact in his ear, as precious to him as a prayer. 

He wants her to look at him the way she looks at those images: full of awe and a love purely born from happiness. But sitting next to her, on his bed, not touching, is currently the best he is going to get.

A shot of a bathroom. Walls painted a muted shade of lime green with orange trim. The camera perfectly framed at a bathtub accentuated with a white gossamer curtain. It cuts to the main character, his eyes wide, lower lip quivering with either fear or desire—intentionally unclear. The camera cuts back to the tub and behind the gossamer is the form of a woman, fingers crawling to pull back the curtain…

He took it as a joke earlier, but Lily was right to say movies are like magic. In one moment, he could be laughing about the complete ridiculousness of muggle imagination then the other be completely enraptured. Watching as a nude woman slowly prowls towards the foreground, he feels his mind start to go fuzzy, wincing in an anticipation he didn’t expect from something as distant as a projected image. 

A shot of warmth curls around his arm, making him jump. His mind still jumbled from the scene, he looks down to find her holding onto his forearm with both of her hands. Her body is curled towards him, face lowered like a cowering animal. Her eyes juggle between wide concentration and tightened shut and a voice floats up to him, small and shaky. 

“I hate this part.”

Any interest he has in the film is gone. He does his best to steady his breath, hopeful that Lily will read his quickened heartbeat as a reaction to whatever is occurring on screen. Her hands are clenching harder now and her face shrinks down against his shoulder, pressing one eye into his shirt while the other continues to be mesmerized.

Against better judgment, against all of his little rules and invisible walls he has created to keep this platonic friendship with her afloat, James pries Lily’s hands off his arm just long enough to wrap around and pull her into his chest. 

At first, she doesn’t seem to register it, still using his body to half shield the film from her eyes. She settles into his embrace and their legs intertwine. Maybe it was more out of the necessity of comfort than anything else, but the feeling makes James’ body vibrate. He thanks the dark enclosure of the four poster bed for hiding the flush of his skin and he pushes forward, curling his other arm around her, holding her tighter in a protective embrace.

“Are you scared yet?” His voice comes out lower than he intends, but the teasing is evident. Lily looks up at him with squinted eyes, their faces dangerously close. 

“--And you're not? You arse. I’m never showing a movie to you ever again.”

“Oh, don’t be like that Evans,” he murmurs, giving her body a small squeeze. The pressure of his arms around her makes blood rush to her cheeks. 

Something else flashes across her face and her eyes dart between holding his stare and looking down at his lips. He can still feel her heart pounding against his, but now he is unsure if it's because of the horrific looking woman on screen or him. 

“You’re distracting me, Potter.” 

Her voice sounds inviting, no longer riddled with the nerves of fear that it had earlier. 

“You seemed like you wanted a distraction. I hate for you to be scared on my watch.”

Again, the same expression. Her lips start to part, and he feels the tug of her hands on his torso, still grasping at his shirt from her moment of fear. 

Then it passes, as quickly as light itself. She pushes her cheek back against his chest, not removing herself from the embrace, but averting her eyes back to the curtain.

“Watch the film.”

But he can’t, not with her like this, and it seems like she can’t either. He starts to keep a running log of every move she makes. When he adjusts his position, she moves with him, careful not to break free of their hold. When something jumps on screen, her leg snaps up, hooking against his thigh and not moving back to its more modest place beside him. When a character is being chased, she presses her whole face into him, her breath creating condensation on his shirt, a small squeak of fear sighs into his chest. 

Neither of them give attention to it: a new unspoken agreement. 

He can tell she is still afraid. Even he can admit the film ramped up the horror in the last hour and in some twisted way he enjoys it: her heartbeat frantic against him, fingers contracting as the tensions on screen rise.

It is bliss. Horror filled, tortuous bliss. 

As the credits roll and the world comes tumbling back into the confines of the bed, James waits for Lily to stir in his arms, but she remains frozen against him. He lifts his hand and gives an experimental caress to her cheek, savoring every second his thumb skims across her warm skin. Her eyes close at his touch. 

“Did you die of fright?”

He can feel the muscles of her face curl upwards into a smile. 

“Piss off, don’t act like it wasn’t scary.”

“I’m not.” Emboldened by his first attempt, he moves his hand back to her cheek, resting it there to cradle her face against him. She sighs into his shirt again, his chest erupting in warmth. 

“So Godric Gryffindor—thoughts?”

“A very relatable cautionary tale about not taking shit jobs in haunted hotels.”

He feels Lily’s laughter rumble against him.

“You have personal experience?”

“Oh yeah—it's a long story though, maybe another time.”

Another giggle. He likes the way it vibrates into his bones. 

She peeks her eyes up at him from his chest, round and a brilliant green from the light of the projector.

“Promise you won’t take the piss out of me, but I actually think I’m scared enough to not want to walk back to the girls' dorm.”

He knows she can feel his heartbeat quicken under her, but he doesn’t care. He tries his best to sound natural.

“Do you want me to walk you back?”

She hesitates, the hand that has been clenching a part of his shirt tightening its grip. 

“Hmmm. Can I just stay here?”

He stares down at her, mouth gone slack as she looks up with innocent eyes. If there was any question before, he is now completely convinced: film is magic, or at least magical enough to make Lily Evans, THE Lily Evans, the one who he has pined over and slaved to forge a platonic friendship with, want to sleep in his bed. 

“Yeah, of course.”

He wants to flip her over, push their bodies together and kiss her until they forget the world entirely. Every possible scenario flashes through his head from worst to best. Is there even a worst case? Lily Evans is effectively about to sleep next to him, presumably touching, presumably sharing the same air. 

Lily extricates herself from his arms for the first time since she entered them and wiggles into a lying position. James transfigures the projector back into a spyglass, then adjusts in the darkness, trying to find the perfect balance of body language between we are just friends but if you want, please sweet merlin, let me hold you forever.

Thankfully, she takes charge. As he settles onto his back, she immediately curls herself around him, resting her head back where it had been during the film. Her leg edges against his, threatening to take the quick jump to slot around his thigh. 

“Hey James.” 

She never says his first name, at least never to his face. It sounds reborn coming from her mouth, like a song he could listen to for ages and never get tired of. How did she plan to end her sentence? I am endlessly in love with you? Can you shag me into the mattress? Can we never be apart for the rest of our lives?

“No one has ever put up with my stupid muggle movies like you have—not even Marlene or Snape.”

Her tone brings him back. The comment is raw, a broken piece of herself. He immediately feels like the worst version of a teenage boy, imagining all the ways the night could go, not thinking that maybe Lily just needs someone to be just close to her for once.

“Sounds like all your friends are arseholes.”

She picks up her head from his chest, her face close to his now. Even in the dark her eyes somehow find light to glimmer from. 

“Well, it means a lot to me.” She murmurs.

“You mean a lot to me.” 

She searches his face and his nerves run rampant. They have been crossing all sorts of barriers today but putting words to it? That might be the most unforgivable. A smile forms before her lips press against his cheek, warm and soft against his skin. A wave of relief flashes over him and his arms instinctively curl around her to keep her in place.

“I know.”

Pulling away slightly, she hovers herself back over him, so close her breath tickles, and rests her head inside the crook of his neck. A small, hot hand reaches down and finds his, giving it a squeeze. 

He can’t believe he does, but he finally drifts to sleep, feeling her heartbeat slow against his, her breath hot on his neck. In the morning he wakes and she is still there, not some phantom made by his design, but flesh and blood and Lily. 

From beyond the curtains one of the boys slams the bathroom door and the distinct wail of Sirius’ singing crashes like cymbals into the room. She jolts awake, pressing both hands into his chest.

He bats his eyes open, pretending to be lulled from a dream rather than ripped completely from sleep just like she was. He looks up. Her eyes are beautiful and round and completely filled with terror. 

“Oh my god.”

Another slam, another screech, this time from Peter. The stern, ennui riddled voice of Remus pierces through the curtain. 

“Oi, Prongs. You promised me you’d help me study this morning. What are you doing in there?”

James can’t help but feel a grin crack on his face from the absurdity of it all. Lily stays frozen against him, eyes closed as tight as possible with a face twisted into some form of embarrassment and shock. 

He can’t help himself. He reaches up and presses his palm against her cheek, letting his thumb dare to skim against her jaw. 

“What is it Evans? You scared?”

[royboyfanpage]

What do you think are Roy's top 3 comics?

Oooh good question!

'Best' is a very subjective category, and it could mean a lot of different things based on how you define it. Best as in "most significant"? Then it'd be Green Lantern (1960) #86 (Snowbirds part 2), New Titans #21, and (unfortunately) Rise of Arsenal #1, because they're arguably most important for a new reader to understand the key parts of Roy's story.

But if you just mean the three that I think are the best, then:

3) The Arsenal Special. I just really like this comic. I love the first person perspective at the beginning of it

And the way it highlights Roy's own fears about not being a good enough father for Lian. I also really just love the whole action hero vibe to it, as someone who grew up on a lot of 90s action movies it's just really fun to read! And it's definitely the comic I always turn to for "yes, THIS is why he's called Arsenal". I mean look at him!

Also his whole monologue is just 10/10. I don't have room to post all of it here but I posted it on this reblog to a post by one-bat-day. It's just a really fun comic and I like it a lot!

2) Titans (1999) #16. Funnily enough, while Grant's relationship with Roy is absolutely my favourite part of Titans '99, my favourite single-issue doesn't include him. I just really like this issue because there's so much good stuff in it, from Roy's monologue about his feelings towards his mother-

To him punching Dick (as he should king) and calling out the double standards between how he's treated and how Dick's treated by the other Titans.

It also has some really great moments between Roy and Garth, them finally actually talking to each other and reaching an understanding. Look at those guys!

1) Green Arrow (2001) #32. This has to be my all-time favourite comic hands down. Granted that's not entirely down to Roy (Connor Hawke love of my life), but it's just! It's the brothers issue! It has everything you could ever need! Roy giving a non-subtle queer acceptance speech decades before Connor came out as ace-

Roy actually getting to bully someone else's driving instead of having his own driving bullied-

There's actual communication! Look at how healthy these brothers are! Roy explains that he was only looking out for Connor, Connor explains why he wanted the robber to actually put the gun down himself, and Roy apologises!

Look at them!! They're brothers!!

Roy Harper and Connor Hawke, the brothers ever. This is just such a cute and fun comic and I'm so glad I have a physical copy because sometimes I just need to reread it again and again and everything will be okay.

[horseshoegirl]

Damn Those Dog Tags: Part 21 - My Fair Lady

📜 Merry Christmas, you filthy animals! 😏😂

❗️+18, strong language, godmother reader/original female character, mentions of an original child character, reunions, sexual themes (I mean smut, so get out of here if you ain't +18, I mean it!!!), they finally do it! (first times, nakedness, sex, all that jazz --> So yes, that is a spoiler!).

#10k words (this one is long, and I'm not apologizing for it, LOL)

Part 20 | Masterlist | Part 22

With Sadie away at camp, you finally got the time and the opportunity to surprise her and redo your guest room into her room.

The house was a mess. Boxes of new furniture waiting to be built: a desk, a bookcase, a new bedframe. Her mattress slanted against the hallway. Old white sheets covered every inch of the floor and things that could not be moved.

You'd taken the shade off one of the bedside table lamps and stuck it in the corner of the room, its soft, warm light guiding you as you stood on a ladder, carefully stroking a painter's brush covered in green paint just below the edge of the ceiling, balancing the paint bucket on the top step.

The problem you had with projects like these was that you didn't really know when to stop. Staring when it was still light out, nothing but music playing softly through the speakers from your vinyl player, it was well past 2 AM before you knew it.

At least this passion project was one of the few things keeping you from obsessively worrying about Jake. And Bradley.

The static noise popping through your speakers was a welcome relief for your neck. With one last paint stroke, you climbed down the ladder, picturing your records and what one you could put on next. You bit your lip, reaching up to grab the bucket and the lid from the top step, covering it and hitting it closed with a thump.

You knelt next to the crate, searching for the record you had in mind when a persistent knock at your front door startled you. You weren't expecting anyone, let alone in the witching hours of the early morning.

Everything that happened with Tyler left you weary. Every white car you passed on the street made your skin crawl, and when Penny finally re-opened the Hard Deck and you returned to work, each time the door swung open in a dramatic fashion, you half expected to see Tyler standing there, a predatory glare in his eyes.

People also had a habit of knocking on your door late at night to deliver bad news. But something told you you needed to answer it anyway.

You slowly tip-toed down your hallway, plastering yourself to the wall, hoping to stay out of sight of whoever knocked on your door before peering through the peephole. Shocked to see the person pacing back and forth along your front porch, you whipped the door open.

"Alyssa?"

She stopped pacing, twisting her body towards the sound of your voice.

As long as you knew her, Lyssa had never once cried in front of you or came close to being visibly upset. She was direct, used humour in the most inappropriate moments, and always played things close to the chest. To see her face, beat red and tears streaming down her face, you couldn't help your unease.

Something had to be seriously wrong.

"Is Will okay?" you asked her.  "What's' wrong?"

She shook her head, stepping in front of you. "Um, no, he's okay. We need to get down to Top Gun. Now."

"Top Gun? It's almost three in the morning."

She shook her head again. "Will's father got word an aircraft carrier got caught in a hurricane somewhere overseas. It sunk. They're bringing in the survivors now."

Heart dropping into your stomach, your legs wobbled. You fell against your door frame, hands gripping the wood tight enough to hurt. Your throat was screaming at you, and you couldn't swallow. 

There was only one other time you could compare to how you were feeling now.

Friday nights were the worst fucking days of your life.

"Please don't tell me..." you croaked. "Please don't tell me it was theirs."

You gripped Jake's dog tags tight as you caught her harsh gulp, her face remaining stark. She didn't say anything. Not that she needed to. The very fact she was on your doorstep told you everything you needed to know.

She wouldn't have come to get you otherwise.

"Come on, we need to go," she managed to say through a harsh swallow.

You don't know how you managed to loosen your grip on your door frame or how you laced your shoes without screwing up the knots. Or how you got your key in the lock with your shakey hand.

You don't know how you got into the passenger seat of Alyssa's car, either. Or how you managed to put your seat belt on or not throw up as she sped out of your driveway and down to the highway.

A small part of you whithers when you realize you wouldn't have known, wouldn't have been here, hadn't Alyssa's Ex caught wind of it. Nat, Bob, and the rest of the daggers would have, too, eventually, but they probably wouldn't have been informed until it was too late.

You don't even know what's waiting for you at Top Gun, whether both Jake and Bradley were or weren't there. Or only one of them. Or if they would even let you in.

The gates were open to the facility when the two of you arrived. Lyssa followed several cars that were already pulling into the winding entrance, the line starting to build as more and more started to appear from the opposite direction. You leaned forward in your seat as she pulled into the parking lot, your heart in your throat as you tried to see behind the building to the runway. All you saw were blinking red and white lights against the night sky.

Alyssa hadn't even moved the parking brake when you threw yourself out of her car, not bothering to wait for her. The cool night wind bit at your face as you searched the building, looking for any indication they were letting people in. You spied a group of people charging across the parking lot to an open side door, someone in dress kaki's manning it. You followed them, skidding across the pavement as you reached the door, trying not to run anyone over and barrel through the crowd.

Cyclone saw you before you saw him, shouting out your full name amongst the chaos to urge you to the front to let you in with the next group. The words spill out of your mouth before you realize you're saying them. "Do you know if...?"

He shook his head. "If they did, they'll be on the next plane that came in."

A million thoughts skitter through your mind, like spiders across a floor, yet you push them aside.

"I have a friend, Lyssa. Let her in next."

He nodded without complaint, knocking hard on the door to let the group in.

Whether it was the threat of being yelled at for running or that they were inside the famous Navy facility, nobody moved quicker than a brisque walk.

You'd take on any military officer who would dare yell at you for the way you tried to weave in and out of the throngs of people.

The hallway you were guided down led to a hanger. The space had been turned into a temporary relief centre, with tables, cots, and supplies filling every inch. Medics were already helping a few of the officers who looked worse for wear, and dread filled you each time you spun, another injured officer upon another.

You weren't sure you were relieved or scared with each face you saw. Whatever they had to go through to get here, one thing was for certain. They had to do so in a rush.

You halted when you spotted the large military-like plane Cyclone spoke about sitting on the runway in the distance, viewable from the wide open door. Whether it had been there before or it had just arrived, you didn't know. Nor did you question it any further. The only thing that mattered was if Jake and Bradley were on that plane.

But with each group of people that passed, there was no sign of them.

Alyssa finally caught up to you, grabbing your arms from behind and tugging you backwards. "Liz," she started to say, but you tore out of her grasp.

"We didn't have time. We didn't have time," you said repeatedly, threading your fingers through your hair next to your temples. Alyssa reached out again, this time turning you by your raised elbows as you continued to force yourself to breathe. She pushed, and you slowly lost your hold on your roots, lowering your arms until she was grasping at your hands.

"I didn't want to tell him I loved him over a letter. I didn't want our last words to each other to be over a piece of paper," you cried out, trying to tug away. She didn't let go, her grip tight. It made you sob harder.

"I can't go through this again! Not with them, not with him. Not after everything Sadie and I have ever suffered through. It's too much, Alyssa!" you were on the verge of screaming. "We've been through enough!"

Lyssa opened her mouth, words just barely sounding out before her eyes locked on to something behind you. She gasped, and you twisted sharply, watery eyes searching a new crowd of officers making their way off the tarmac and into the hanger. You squinted your eyes, the night sky and the bright white lights from inside making it harder to make out faces.

A cluster of Navy officers broke off from the crowd, parting the way.

Then you saw them.

Both of them.

Jake was favouring a leg as he leaned against Bradley for support, hobbling along as they finally reached the entrance to the hanger, searching for a temporary cot. Even at a distance, you could make out a cut framing his eye, and one side of his face was bruised.

But he was here. He was whole.

He was alive.

You couldn't help it. You charged forward, no feeling in your legs as you zoomed past other families and officers, probably a few high-ranking officials in your paint-smattered shirt and overalls. Time slowed down for you as you ran, even if you were running as if your life depended on it.

"JAKE!"

Jake lifted his head at the sound of your voice, urging Bradley to stop. Bradley looked at him funny, watching his eyes glaze over and wondering if Jake hit his head harder than the medics originally thought. But then he followed his gaze, only to see you charging forward without a care in the world to reach him, and he knew.

Bradley unhooked his arm from around Jake's shoulders, steadying him for a second and then letting go, stepping to the side so you could have your moment.

You slid along the floor as you came to a halt in front of Jake, worried he was more damaged than you could see, arms reaching for him. Jake bracketed his arms tightly around your back the second you touched him, and you buried your face into his shoulder. He grunted as he pulled you tight, shoving his nose into your collarbone.

Jake smelt of the sea, of gasoline and sweat. His flight suit felt ripped under your hands as you tried to find a grip. Or maybe you were trying to assure yourself he was really there. Your mind flashed through all the possible things he might have gone through with each caress, your cries getting louder with each one.

Yet in your panic, you pulled back from his hug, only to take his face into your hands and kiss him hard.

"I love you," you gasped out between kisses. "I'm not getting you go. I'm here. I love you, I love you, I love you."

Jake's response was instant, fingers quickly gripping the back of your neck, the roots of your hair, to drive your head at all the angles he wanted, all the ways that made it easier for him to devour you.

You felt like you couldn't breathe, pulling away from his lips with a tightness in your chest. Your eyes fell on his lips, red and slightly swollen, and you were positive yours were the same. Until you looked up at those green eyes and the rest of the hanger, everyone else, faded away.

Jake smiled at you.

"Hi, Darlin.'"

You huffed a sad laugh through your tears, letting yourself fall into his body, hiding your face in his chest, sobbing.

Jake didn't let the grip on your neck go, curving his hand against the skin, holding you to him. His other arm, at some point, had dropped down to your waist. Whether it was to keep himself upright or keep you from falling over, he wasn't sure. Nor did he really care. Because Jake was pressing his mouth into your hair and closing his eyes to relish the feel of you in his arms.

He was home.

You turned your head against his chest to look over at Bradley, slightly surprised to see him hugging Alyssa. Her forehead was leaning against her hands, currently shaped into a triangle against his chest. She was shaking with silent sobs as Bradley hugged her back, pressing a kiss to the top of her head.

The panic you felt before settles in your chest, warmth wrapping around your rib cage. As if he felt your eyes on him, Bradley opened his eyes, resting his cheek atop her head. You reached out, Bradley instantly extending his arm to grasp your hand. You smiled sadly at him with a fresh wave of tears in your eyes, squeezing his hand before burying your head back into Jake's chest, not once letting go.

Feeling you move against him, Jake lifted his head, catching your hand holding Bradley's. He found Bradley looking at the two of you with a smile, in a similar position, with Alyssa wrapped around him.

"Is there something you want to tell us, Rooster?" he said, eyes gesturing to Alyssa. You shook with silent laughter against his chest.

Bradley smiled at you, at Jake, before closing his eyes and letting his lips graze Alyssa's forehead. "Is that any way to speak to your saviour?"

There was no malice in Jake's words when he dropped his head back down to press a kiss into your hair, flippantly shooting back, "Don't push it, Bradshaw. I'm still ahead by one."

---

The ride home had been quiet.

After some harsh convincing by you and Alyssa, Jake and Bradley were allowed to leave. You had gotten the run down by one of the medical officers about Jake. He had no concussion and no broken bones but had ended up with quite a large amount of water in his lungs and a significant amount of bruising the days before.

You caught snippets of Rooster's conversation with the medics, enough to know what happened. You didn't want to know the deeper details unless Jake wanted to talk to you about it. Knowing he almost drowned and Bradley had saved him was enough.

He wasn't at risk of a secondary drowning, but more so pneumonia or an Edema. You'd be calling an ambulance at the first sign of a cough.

Bradley was helping Jake up the steps of your front porch as you went ahead and unlocked your door. Lyssa spotted Jake from below, hands out and ready. Despite her tiny frame, she was there, ready to catch him should he need help.

You were quietly surprised to see Bradley being the one to help Jake. You knew it wouldn't have been easy for either of them: Jake, who didn't want to need to accept the help at all, and Bradley, for whom he was helping.

But once Jake cleared the last step and straightened himself, he patted Bradley on the shoulder, murmuring a 'Thanks, Rooster' before limping over to you.

You looked up at him with a smile, cocking the side of your head in Bradley's direction before saying, "I'll meet you inside?"

Jake nodded, then nodded once to Rooster before continuing inside. Lyssa had walked off back to her car around the same time, leaving only you and Bradley standing alone on your porch. You pulled him into a hug.

"Thank you, Bradley. For saving his life."

Rooster stiffened at your touch but slowly relaxed, arms coming up to wrap around your back. "I know it's not worth much, but I'm truly sorry Lizzie," he murmured. "For all of it."

You shook your head against his shoulder, murmuring a low "Don't," but Bradley pressed on.

"I've been an ass since the start. I've been the one doing all the things I said Jake would do," he said next to your ear, refusing to let you go. "I think I was more worried about being replaced.. and everything else... I just didn't want to see you and the bug getting hurt. The rule was to put Sadie first. Instead, I was the one doing all that. He really does care about the two of you despite some of his faults."

You pulled back from the hug but still left your hand on his shoulder, wiping at your eyes. "Can I ask what made you change your mind?"

Bradley gave a fond look, and you could only stare at him for a second before a smile shot across your face. "Sadie?"

You had wondered what she had scribbled in that letter. She was shifty about it, too, refusing to let you see anything anytime you walked by.

Something told you you'd never know.

Rooster grinned. "Yeah," he said, scratching the back of his head. "Her and the fact, this one saved me yet again. Then gave me a heart attack."

You smiled, looking back at your open door. "I'd like to think he was giving you the chance to make it up to us."

Bradley dropped his chin to his chest, still smiling, before he looked over to Alyssa, leaning against the driver's side of her car.

"Call me if you need help?" he offered, stepping forward to place a hand on your forearm before turning to proceed down your front steps.

"I think we'll be okay," you replied softly, not really caring if he heard you, still staring at your front door.

--- 

 The tension inside the house hit you like a wave the second you closed the door. It was just Jake and you now, and despite everything that transpired the past few hours, you felt nervous. 

Looking down, you spied Jake's boots neatly lined up next to some of yours, making you wonder how he managed to get them off. It made you undo your laces slowly, tactically, as if to stall time. 

Something about standing here made everything more real. 

There was also the bit about you sending him that partial nude. And that letter - which you weren't as concerned about. But that damn photo, all inspired by a moment of brevity, had you yelling to yourself, what the hell did I just do? when you dropped it off at Penny's.

You couldn't worry about the shame currently building in the pit of your stomach. You had to press on.

Jake was hurt. He needed you. 

“Jake?” you called out softly, not expecting to find him hunched over, leaning against the wall of your hallway, facing you. You held out your hands, ready to grab him and support him. That was until he sharply lifted his head, eyes the only thing you could truly make out in the dim lighting, the dawn just peeking through your windows. You froze, lowering them, your voice stuck in your throat. Those eyes were challenging you to move, daring you to escape, to make a sound in the dead silence that wasn’t what he wanted to hear. With the predatory glint in his eyes, you knew right away what he wanted to talk about. 

Yet, Jake is the one to break the silence first.

"Where's Sadie?"

"Camp."

You feel like you've just given him the green light for something with those words. He seemed to know it, too.

"What can I do to help you?" the question comes out more quietly than you were anticipating.

Jake straightens himself with a groan but doesn't remove his eyes from you. On the contrary, they are still sharp and as intense as when he first saw you.

"Liz," he spoke lowly. 

He takes a step forward. You take one back. 

"I think you know the answer to that." 

"Do I?" you breathe out, taking another step, and he stalks forward as much as he is able. 

He nods once. "I got your letter. And your photo."

Your back hits the wall - you can go no further. 

It's not as if you couldn't escape him or tell him to stop. Jake is pinning you with his eyes as he approaches you and cages you against the wall. You know if you told him to stop, that all this was too much, he'd back away. 

You don't want him to, though. 

"Darlin," he roughs out, a hand reaching for your hip, his mouth next to your ear. "I've thought of nothing else."

Your trembling, heaving though no sound is coming out. You knew Jake was tall, muscled, and built like a freaking horse. It's stupid how the thought crosses your mind once again. You feel small against him, pressed up against the wall. 

"I take it you liked it?" 

You have no idea where this courage is coming from. 

"Liked it?" he pressed a kiss on your neck below your ear. "I got hard just looking at it." 

You title your head back against the wall; eyes closed, an arm coming up to wrap around his neck as Jake continues to press small kisses into your skin, slowly starting to add his teeth. An arm shoots around your waist, tugging you into him, and you gasp, racking up the wall with the movement. 

"Jake," you gasped to the ceiling, digging your fingers into his hair. He winced against your neck with a groan, pausing. You wondered if you had accidentally injured him more. Because as much as Jake was desperately trying to merge himself into your skin, as much as he was trying to show you just how much he loved you, how much he wanted you, he was utterly exhausted.

And he was hurt.

"There's nothing more I want than to be with you right now," you said calmly, stroking the hair at the back of his neck, sobering the moment. "But you're exhausted. And hurt, Jake. When was the last time you slept? "

Jake sighed into your neck, weight sagging with him, "Only a few minutes on the flight home. Not sure when before that."

It was true. Bradley had managed to resurface with him strung across his back, carrying Jake the rest of the way up that stairwell. His memory was fractured into bits and pieces of moments when he opened his eyes. Him being carried on a stretcher, Rooster sitting next to him in a med tent, voices yelling, and people poking and prodding at him. The flight home was when he really started to get his memory back, but he didn't dare fall back asleep, wondering if it had all been a dream and he really did die back there.

You frowned. "Let me take care of you, okay? I'm not going anywhere."

Pressing a long kiss on his cheek, you carefully untangled yourself from his hold, sliding down the wall. Hooking your arm around his waist, you led him down your hall to your bathroom. Jake's grip on your body was anchored tight. Hand threaded through the opposite pocket of your overalls, a part of him always touching you.

Leaving him to lean against your bathroom counter, you spun to turn on the shower, ensuring the water was okay before coming to stand in front of him once more. Resting your hands on his chest, you toyed with the zipper of his damaged flight suit.

"Do you need help?" you asked him softly.

He knew he could manage without you, even with his back being out of sorts. Yet, he still softly replied, "Go ahead."

You ranked your eyes over the fabric as you pulled down the tab of his zipper. His suit was ripped in some places, and large chunks were torn out, revealing the black tank he was wearing underneath. The zippers of the side pockets were misaligned, and while both of his patches were still intact, the threads were sticking out around the borders, making them unusable.

You made a note in the back of your mind to steal them the second you could.

Once the zipper reached the end, you moved both of your hands down to his chest, taking both sides and pushing the fabric off his shoulders.

Yet you stilled when you felt something hard in one of the pockets, instantly unfolding the fabric and unzipping the pocket, Jake watching you with hooded eyes. You pulled out a water-tight bag, gasping when you saw your letter and the various polaroids through the clear material.

"You.. You saved them?"

Jake let go of your hips to shrug the piece of clothing off, freeing his arms. He placed one hand on your hip, the other taking the bag from you, holding them.

"Why wouldn't I?" Jake's voice was quiet.

You felt a lump in your throat, tracing the bag in his hands. You were curious to know which one is the cockpit photo, but you also know your spontaneous, risky shot is also in with them. It's not that you didn't regret it, nor did Jake's enthusiastic reaction deter you, but you still felt that little bit of shame and embarrassment knowing the physical proof still existed.

"I... I didn't think they would mean that much to you. It was just a thing Sadie and I did so you wouldn't feel left out," you admitted, feeling vulnerable.

"They were all I had of you and Sadie out there."

It guts you, the simplicity of such a statement, yet packed with so much meaning.

Jake placed the bag behind him on the counter, ready to resume his grip on your body. Except his eyes caught sight of the pieces of metal dangling over the front of your chest, and he reached out to take his Dog Tags into the palm of his hand.

"You're wearing them."

You followed the chain to stare at the two pieces of metal. Your reply was soft, "I rarely took them off."

He didn't need to know about your breakdown. Not yet. You had said enough in your letter for him to know you had done what you needed to do, but he didn't need to know about the events that led up to it.

That was a conversation for another day.

Jake sighed, letting them drop back down in between the two of you, hand curving around your hip and pressing his forehead to yours. The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds until you felt him fiddling with the clasp on your hip, never fully releasing it from its hold.

He didn't need to voice it for you to know the question behind the action. It was clear as day as to what he was asking of you.

Will you join me?

Remember all those times over the past year you told yourself to fuck it? This was definitely getting added to all those other times.

Because you found yourself reaching down to your side and finishing the job, releasing the button from his hold. You felt Jake's breath against your mouth, warm and wet, as he slid his hand up to one of the front clasps, popping the buttons out of the hooks as he tugged, repeating the process with the other.

The two straps fell down your back, and you held your arms up in a silent invitation. Jake seemed to hold his breath as he pulled at your battered shirt, up over your head, to reveal your bare breasts.

He tossed your shirt to the side in the general direction of your laundry basket, but you didn't take your eyes off his to find out if it hit its mark. You feel no shame as he dropped his gaze. He's seen them before, kissed them, touched them. But the way his eyes rake over them makes it seem like it's the first time he has.

But when you reach for his black tank, pulling at the hem to work it over his body, you catch the view of his back in your mirror and let out a terrifying gasp.

His back is one big purple bruise, marring his skin. It spread from the curve of his right shoulder blade, sinking its way across his spine and ending near his hip. The only comparison you could draw to it was a painter's palette of cool colours mixed in with black. Whatever he had hit, it was clear the impact had been severe.

"Jake," you cry out, stepping to the side so you can turn him and see the damage for yourself, not in some reflection.

"How bad is it? The medics told me it's there."

"It's not pretty." 

It was the most accurate statement you could give him without wanting to double or even triple-check the work of the medics on him. He let you investigate the bruised skin for a few seconds more before moving out of your grasp and facing you. 

"Come on," he uttered. "Let's get under the water." 

You quickly removed the rest of your clothing, letting the rest of your overalls and underwear fall to the floor, using your toes to work off your socks. Jake managed to get the remainder of his flight suit off with little struggle, boxers included. 

You weren't ashamed of your body. But you were a little apprehensive, letting Jake see everything in its entirety. It makes you step into the shower first, almost as if you were trying to run away. 

All this is new to you. And the internal battle currently raging on in your head was making you hesitant. Because even standing here, naked in your shower, Jake's eyes ranking over you like you were his last meal from behind the glass door, you still fought with yourself not to look at him.

But let's be real. You were a virgin, new to all of this.

You definitely looked.

And tried to mute the squeal that was trying to crawl its way out of your throat as you turned to let the running water hit your face. You could hear Jake's warm chuckle from behind you as he stepped into the boxed space.

"Like what you see?" he spoke lowly into your ear, dragging your back to rest against his front by your elbows.

"I'm not going to answer that question. 'Cause we both know if I do, it's going to lead to something."

You could feel all his ridges and sharply defined muscles against your back, and it took you everything not to mould yourself into him. Jake pressed a kiss to your shoulder, then another to your neck, before resting his cheek against yours. "And what would that be?"

"Jake..." you warned, your voice slightly shakey.

"Not tonight," he replied, dragging his hands up your arms. "I just wanted to see how far that blush of yours goes."

"Oh, you kinky.." but he didn't let you finish, catching your mouth in an opened-mouth kiss. You moaned, tilting your head back before turning to face him, wrapping your arms around his neck.

You released his lips to glaze up into his eyes, taking the moment to assure yourself yet again he was here with you. You matched his soft smile before he zoned in on your cheek, reaching up to thumb the skin. His face was hardened in concentration, no doubt rubbing at a stroke of paint you'd accidentally marked yourself with, working to get it off. You smiled, pressing a kiss to his wrist.

"What's this from?"

"I'm painting Sadie's room, trying to make it more hers as a Birthday gift."  

Jake hummed. 

The two of you continued to shower together, you mostly helping Jake. You tried not to get too caught up in staring at him, biting your lip in concretion as you rubbed body wash over him. You felt his eyes on your face the entire time, and you tried to resist the urge to lean up and kiss him. 

Jake made you spin around to face the showerhead to return the favour. Feeling his hands caress your skin, letting him work the soap under the swells of your breast, along your arms, even down the panel of your stomach, you had to fight the arousal pooling in between your legs. 

Not to mention, you could feel him growing hard and heavy against your lower back. 

"This isn't fair. I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you," you murmured, leaning your head back against his shoulder.  

He pressed a delicate kiss to your collarbone. "This is taking care of me." 

You ended up getting out first, picking up each of your discarded clothing, throwing them in the basket, and reaching for the towels you kept on the makeshift shelf on your wall as Jake finished with his hair. You saw the frown on his face when he stepped out, and you rolled your eyes affectionately at him, handing him a towel.

Helping him to your room, you left him to sit on the corner of your bed. You rummaged through your top drawer, pulling out the pair of his boxers you had accidentally missed when you packed up his bag. You found them on the day you were getting things ready to visit Ridley.

He took them without a word while you pulled on your sleep shirt and underwear, ironically the same baggy nightshirt you wore the night of that damn thunderstorm where he kissed you.

Climbing into your bed, you held up your comforter as an invitation. He fell face-first into your chest with an aching groan, grabbing your sides to pull himself half on top of you, his head finding a home in the crook of your neck.

Your suspicions from before are finally confirmed. Because even as he held you, Jake was desperately fighting sleep.

Pressing a delicate kiss to the cut on his cheek, you grazed your lips up until you could press them just below his hairline, your fingers threading themselves soothingly through his hair.

"Go to sleep," you whispered into his forehead. "I'll be here when you wake up."

---

You slowly awoke to the sensation of lips delicately pressing soft kisses into your forehead and fingers stroking along the back of your arm, the occasional touch of warm metal accompanying the touch. You mewled, curling yourself deep into the apex of his shoulder, lulled by sleep.

"I'm sorry I woke you. Go back to sleep."

You pressed a sleepy kiss to his bare chest. "I should be awake. I'd sleep the day away like this if I could."

Jake hummed, resuming his gentle caresses. He had raked down your sleep shirt along your back, fingers now dragging up and down your spine, getting lower and lower each time he did it, causing you to shiver.

"I had a dream like this. While I was away on the carrier," he spoke, pressing another kiss to your temple. "At the ranch in Texas. In my room above the barn."

"Tell me?" you yawned, still half asleep, warm and content.

Jake nosed into your cheek, trailing it over your skin as he spoke, "The two of us. In my bed. Naked."

You shook silently with laughter, turning your head back against his arm. "Of course you did."

You would have seen Jake smiling down at you had you decided to open your eyes.

"I'd dream I woke up with your back to me, sheets resting low on the curve of your back." He slid the back of his fingers across your exposed shoulder, getting lost in the image in his head. "The barn door was open, catching the first rays of sunlight in your hair. There must have been a storm cause the grass was so green, everything was so right."

You leaned away from his chest, resting your head further back on his arm to peer up at his face. Jake's hair is dishevelled, his eyes harbouring the remnants of sleep, worn and puffy. His bruise had already begun to yellow, and his cut didn't appear red or as swollen. Yet, looking up at him from within the safety of his arms, huddled against his massive chest, you find yourself wishing you could control the way air catches in your throat.

"Sounds perfect."

Jake smiled softly, leaning down to kiss you. You moan in protest, turning your head away and barely managing an "I have morning breath" to Jake as his lips land on your cheek.

"I don't care," he rasped into your ear. You turned your head back, and he placed his mouth on yours.

You give as much as he is giving you, letting Jake caress your tongue with his, letting him take and take at his pleasure, until he is releasing your mouth and mouthing across your cheek.

He’s taking his time with you, something so different from the previous times you've found yourself against or under him, at the mercy of his mouth and hands. There's hesitation in his movements, wary of making any sudden, intense movements that might have you bolt. 

"You're taking your time," you say aloud, carting your fingers through his hair. Jake laps gently at the corner of your neck, hand stroking down the side of your leg. He pulls back to stare at your face, you meeting his gaze.

"I almost didn't have time."

God, you know how true that statement is. And the fact, the Jake who left you standing at the end of your driveway all those weeks ago wasn't the exact same one who returned to you. 

Jake travels down the length of your body, and you let him push up your oversized shirt, revealing your breasts. "Hello, girls," he grinned, pressing a single kiss to each breast. "Oh, how I've missed you."

It makes you laugh, carting your fingers through his hair, messing it up even further. You can feel him smile against your skin. But then he is trailing his nose down your core, down your stomach, lightly grazing your skin with his lips as he goes. You watch him with careful eyes, your breath picking up quickly.

You know his intentions, where this is going, what it would evidently end up being. And you’re okay with that. You trust him, and you love him. There wasn’t anyone else you could imagine having your first time with. 

Working himself down to the end of your bed, Jake’s face hovers over your underwear, his eyes searching yours. You nod, reaching down to help him remove them, Jake flinging them behind his head in a dramatic fashion, making you laugh once again.

Until he’s lining up kisses down the inside of your thigh, stopping when he’s just that close to your core. And then he looks up once again. You can hardly see any green in his eyes, just a thin strip on the edge of being overtaken by black.

“Can I put my mouth on you?”

What do you do but stutter an embarrassing reply of, “If you want to.” 

Jake wouldn’t ask if he didn’t want to. You knew that. He even chuckles at your answer teasingly.

“You’re going to have to keep these open if I do,” he says, tapping the back of your thigh. “I’m not going to nearly perish a second time, though what a hell of a way to go.” 

You huff in amusement, tinting your head back against your pillow only to drop your chin to your chest, looking at him between your legs.

“Just be gentle with me, Jake. I’m not…” 

Experienced is the word you leave out, but you know Jake understands you. He always seemed to when it comes to you.

He places both of your legs on his shoulders before reaching up to thread his fingers through yours at your side. He barely has time to punch out the words, “Tell me to stop if it’s too much,” before his nose is parting your folds and he’s swiping his tongue up and down your cunt repeatedly. 

You pull against his hold on your hands at the feeling, wailing and then biting your lip to quiet yourself, muffling your sounds.

Jake lets go of one of your hands to thumb your bottom lip, removing it from your teeth. He lifts his head and says in one breath, “Sadie’s not here, Liz. Let me hear you moan for me.”

And then he’s sucking on your clit, and you can’t hold it in any longer. The noise you let out is practically a scream, and the vibrations from Jake’s moan against your cunt push you that much further. Cause the fact he mentioned her name while headfirst deep between your legs is filthy. 

And the sounds that follow, echoing around your bedroom, are raunchy.  The night Jake kissed you in your hallway, your worries about Sadie hearing both of you come to mind. Because thank God she wasn’t here, or else she’d think Jake was murdering you.

You’d have to work on being quiet if you ever wanted to do this again with Jake once she came back home. 

You felt hot with your shirt racked up around the top of your breasts, gripping the hem to rip it over your head, your back leaping off the bed as far as it could go. Jake glances up, still working his mouth against your cunt to watch, the only remaining piece on your body is his tags.

You buck into his mouth, having no control over your body as he just sucks and sucks and sucks, your grip on his hand getting tighter and tighter, and you’re gripping your comforter to the point your hand throbs from the force. Cause everything burns and feels so good and yet so bad, and you cry to whatever part of you decided you needed to wait to experience this.

But in the back of your head, you know nobody could make you feel the way Jake was making you feel now.

Something snaps, hard, your muscles pulling tant and the cry blaring out into the ceiling of your bedroom is anything but salacious.  And Jake's voice is muffled when he works you through it, chanting, “Good girl, that’s my good girl,” over and over as you chant your hips to chase the feeling.

You are a shaking mess when Jake finally lets go, and slides back up your body, letting his weight settle against your chest, arms threading themselves under your shoulders.

"Was that okay?" 

You don't even have the words to describe how you are feeling. Your eyes are wide, staring up at him, wondering why the hell he'd be asking such a question when he caused you to be in such a state. 

Instead, you lurch up and kiss him hard, your hands gripping the middle of his back, sliding down to slip under the fabric of his boxers. Jake jolts when he feels your hands cupping his ass. 

"Are you sure, darlin'?" he pants, pulling away from you. "Are you sure you want this? With me?"

This was Jake. He wouldn't have you without your consent.

"I only want you."

It's slightly cheesy. But there was no other way you could put it. You couldn't imagine doing this with anyone else. But he challenges you again, asking, "Are you sure you want it to be me?" 

You wanted to smack him for his sheer idiocy right now, bringing up his shitty perception of his self-worth. But you don't want to ruin the mood, and you know where it's coming from deep down. It has nothing to do with you. 

"I do," you say instead, rubbing your nose against his. "I just don't know how to make you feel good, though."

"It's not about me right now."

Except it was. It was about both of you.

"Get on top of me."

The both of you rolled, Jake grabbing your hips as you landed on top of him. You sat up, placing your hands on his chest. The action had you rocking yourself back onto his clothed cock, and Jake let out a moan, hands tightening on your waist to push and pull with your movements.

Leaning down to kiss him once, you followed his jawline, reaching his ear. "You want to know something?" you asked, suddenly emboldened.

"What?" he gasped, nails biting into your skin.

"I've been dying to do this since the first time I saw you on the beach."

You felt the pinch of his nails as you kissed down his neck, making sure to catch a patch of skin between your teeth softly. You continued down his chest until you finally got to your desired place.

The divet.

The perfectly sculpted yet slightly crooked valley that split the entire length of his chest in half. You had a brief moment of panic, a stutter in your heartbeat, when you realized just how forward you, the freaking virgin, were being. Hell, you didn't even know if you were doing any of this right.

All you knew, you had waited long enough.

Spread out beneath you, Jake's body is spread out for you like a personalized meal. You pressed a kiss into his skin first before letting your tongue press deep into that valley and swirl all sorts of patterns across his skin. His eyes nearly bugled out of his head before Jake groaned, chest puffing out and hand fisting into your hair. 

You work your way up, getting ready to take one of his nipples into your mouth, when Jake suddenly shouts and lets out a fevered, "Stop." 

You reel back in shock, scared you overstepped. But Jake only tugged you up by your hips, using you as a counterweight to pull himself to sit against your headboard with a painful groan. He settled you directly against his pelvis, where you can feel just how hard he is through his boxers.

He grips the back of your neck hard and slams his lips into yours. You whimper into the kiss, worried he's using it as a tactic to let you down gently. When he finally releases your lips, you burst out, "I'm sorry, I overstepped. I shouldn't have.." 

Jake grips your throat, thumb resting just barely on your Adam's apple, enough to know it's there. You can feel it with each hard sallow you take, his hand big enough to encompass the entire length and width of your neck. 

"Don't ever apologize for that," he states firmly. "I'm yours to do with what you will. And trust me when I say there is a lot more you can do to me than just a simple kiss on the chest." 

And there's the blush. 

"I told you I'd corrupt your innocent little soul," he smirks, pulling you to his mouth once again.  

The next few moments are filled with long, passionate kisses and heavy touches until Jake is reaching for the hem of his boxers, and you find yourself helping him pull them down, him kicking them off in some unknown direction. 

Unlike this morning, there's no hesitation when you take him in, his cock hard and standing to attention. You regret your reaction to the comment you made about his helmet last year. Cause there was truth behind that one missing letter. 

Jake reaches for you, helping to position you over him before he suddenly freezes.  "Shit," he gasped, pushing you to sit on his thighs. "We don't have anything."

You ducked your head shyly. "We don't need one if you're okay without one. I... I'm on the pill."

"You're on the pill?"

You know what he means behind the question instantly.

"Two months before Penny asked me back. Other reasons, though. Not that I was expecting to get laid at any point in time," you answer him quietly, lifting your head. "You know me, Jake. I don't do one-night stands. I never have."

Jake relaxed under your hold, a small part of him sighing in relief.

"Worried I moved on?" you ask him softly, stroking your finger across his brow.

"You had every right to," he's almost ashamed to admit. You shook your head. "When are you going to get it through that stubborn head of yours that you are worth it, Jake? I love you. I'm not going anywhere."

Jake sighed again, dropping his forehead to your collarbone.

"Besides, you painted a pretty picture in the flatbed of your truck," you tease, quickly reciting the words he had rasped into your ear when his fingers were almost knuckle deep in your cunt. You drop your head forward and whisper into his ear, "The day I can have you gripping my cock?"

Jake growled at your words, reaching for your thigh to properly position you over him. Straddling his waist, you rest on your knees. Jake grabbed his cock, angling it just so as to rub the tip against your cunt slowly. You weren't sure whether he was teasing you or getting you used to a feeling.

Maybe it was a bit of both.

Then his tip caught at your entrance, and you let out a whimper. 

He stops, not doing anything else except letting go of himself to latch onto your other hip. Tilting his head, he places a kiss on the underside of your jaw, breathing in deep.

You understand why Jake had you move on top of him for this. He was letting you control the pace and do what only felt comfortable to you. It warms your heart, even if it is on the verge of jumping out of your chest.

"Take your time, darlin," he encouraged you softly, mouthing at the skin under your collarbone. "I'm here whenever you are ready. And we can stop at any point."

You took a deep breath, finally finding the courage to press yourself down onto him.

Something between a whine and a gasp escaped your lips as you felt the tip of his cock enter you. You had no previous experience to compare this to, but you were sure you weren't supposed to feel this stretched out. Or this full. 

You got about halfway down before you cried out, sightly in pain. Jake's grip tightened on your leg and hip, muscles flexing as he halted you. You're slick, but it's a tight fit. And his breath was just as ragged as yours.

 Sliding the hand that was griping your hip up your back, Jake encompasses the nape of your neck in his hand, tiling your head down so he could take your mouth into an open kiss.

"Jake," you whimpered into his mouth, your nails digging hard into his shoulder. Jake kept a tight rein on his control, but it was a battle he was struggling with. You just felt too good around him.

"Such a good girl for me," he cooed. "Taking my cock." 

"I don't know if I can go any further," you whimper. But Jake is quick to reply, "We don't have to, not if you don't want to. But you're almost there, just a little bit more." 

"Fuck," you whined, tearing yourself away from his mouth to bury your face into his shoulder.  His hand tightened against the nape of your neck, fingers tangling themselves into the roots of your hair. The grip is reassuring and grounding, and you take several deep breaths before you press down once again.

Then, just when you think you can't take anymore, he bottoms out, his hips pressed tightly into yours. 

That's it. You were a virgin no longer. 

And suddenly, with that thought, you felt nervous. Because, of all things, that damn fucking sign in the girl's bathroom of the Hard Deck flashes in your mind.

Jake is experienced. You're not. It was one thing for him to say he didn't mind you were a virgin, but it was something else for him to be the one to change that status. Because every story you've ever read about how men would compare their previous partners to their current one eats away at you.

There was no way you would stack up to the long list of women Jake had bedded, for lack of a better word. But Jake only nuzzled the valley between your breasts, tongue delicately tracing the underside of one while rubbing soothingly down the curve of your spine.

"Perfect," he murmured softly. You can't help yourself when your next words come out more anxiously than teasingly. "Live up to your imagination?"

If Jake caught on, he didn't let you know.

"Better," he groaned. "I don't care if we do anything else. I'm perfectly content to be like this the rest of the day."

He twitches inside you, and you gasp, dropping your mouth to rest against the top of his head. You know what he is doing. He's letting you adjust, letting the pain subside, assuring your anxious thoughts.

"Like this? Me, wrapped around your cock, barely moving," You manage to pant, and he hums against your chest. "What if we have company? Rooster tends to show up unannounced."

"He better not," his growl vibrates off your skin, hand flexing on your thigh in an effort not to thrust. "He should know better than to show up at your door when he knows damn well what we're getting up to."

Jake titles his head to set his teeth into your collarbone in a warning, making you clench involuntarily and whimper. He snarls into your neck, "Don't mention him when I'm inside you. This is not going to end badly, not for your first time."

The heat laced in his voice did nothing to stop the small chuckle that racked your chest. Your muscles pull tight across your stomach, and you choke, "Are you trying to make me combust?"

"Is it working?" 

Jake doesn't move. Not at first. Not until you decide to test the waters and flex your hips once, rocking yourself on his cock ever so slightly. 

Your mouth is resting open against his forehead, and your nails are biting into his shoulders as you moan, letting the first thumps of pain, turn into pleasure. He's tense under you, Jake, using every ounce of willpower not to thrust himself hard up into you to match your rocks. He wants to take this slow. He wants you to enjoy this, no matter how badly he wants to feel you clench around him.

Instead, he rasps into your breast, “Feel good?” 

Why is he so obsessed with asking you questions?

You’re unsure if your noise is intelligible, but you try to force out an affirmative hum. Then he hits the back of your cervix, making you howl and curl into him.  

It must have been the sound you let out because Jake growls. Gripping the flesh of your butt tightly, he flipped the both of you. You weren't expecting him to, not with how beaten up he was. The movement of your back hitting the bed caused him to hit something deep inside you, causing you to cry out and grip the planes of his shoulders, nails biting hard and uncaring if you happened to touch his bruise.

The slow movement of you rocking on him was nothing compared to the way he started to thrust in earnest. 

"You have no idea how much I've wanted you," he panted, increasing his pace. "The day I saw you at the Hard Deck when you were dancing in your kitchen. The clean fucking slate."

You whimper at the growl he spun on the word fucking, adding to the heat already spreading across your body. Even with the pleasure he’s bestowing across your body, you know this must be somewhat painful for him.

"Jake.." you gasped. "Your back."

"Fuck my back," he grunted, angling his hips in an urgent thrust. It made you tilt your head back into your pillow, your head almost hitting your headboard, your nails biting into his back, letting out a heated cry. Jake went for your neck, teeth, and lips, pressing hard to your pulse point.

"I don't care if I fucking break it," he growled out. "I'm not stopping until you cum for me." 

A particular thrust caused you to turn your head, and Jake sunk his teeth into your neck. You lifted your leg, wrapping it around Jake's waist. The angle of this next thrust changed, and you whimpered loudly, tears leaking down the sides of your face as Jake lurched over you with a desperate groan.

It has you wrapping your other leg around his waist, your hips slanted downwards, his cock pounding you at a new angle.

His hand, supporting himself on the bed next to you, shot out to grip your bedframe. Alternating between deep thrusts and shallow teases, Jake watched you underneath him. Your breasts bounce with every thrust, your eyes fighting to stay open, and dog tags - his dog tags - jangling against your stomach.

 He almost didn’t have this, the stark realization haunting him. He had literally been a breath away from never seeing you again, never feeling your warmth or hearing your cries of pleasure or even your laughter. He would take any chance, any glance, anything to assure him you were real. And that you were his.

His back spasmed, and he fell on top of you, saving himself from crushing you at the last second. But it doesn’t deter him. No, Jake still flexed his hips, more than determined to get you over that edge, to have you cum. Even if he didn’t, he wanted you to experience at least that. 

But those dog tags cause a possessive feeling to rise in his chest - because the only word going through his head right now is mine. 

"You’re mine, Elizabeth,” he grunted. "Say it. Please say it.”

There's the possessive kink you know and love. 

“I’m yours,” you cry out, consumed by the feeling of him driving his cock into you. “Yours Jake, just please…”

It is then a mantra of "pleases" and "I needs" fall from your lips, of which you aren't sure what for. All you knew was that Jake was working you higher and higher off that edge, fully determined to see you tumble over it.

“Cum for me Liz,” he whines.  “Cum for me, just for me. Please my darlin’ girl.”

He drops his hand between the two of you, seeking out your clit and rubbing hard, tight circles that have you screaming. Your soaring, going over that somewhat unfamiliar edge he’s brought you over only twice before.

You swear you black out, just for a few moments, until Jake is at your ear, whispering praise after praise about how good it finally felt to have you cum around him. How only he would ever be the one to experience this, how proud of you he is.

Then he thrusts, once, twice, before your hips jolt up, and he's pressing himself deep, flooding your core. You sob, burying your face into his neck and tightening your legs around him. Because amongst the overstimulation, you can feel another one creeping up from out of nowhere. Pure white heat shoots up to your chest as Jake's haunting moan vibrates your entire being.

Then it's quiet, and you want to bury yourself in this moment. 

You don't even care that you're crying. Because, with all the thoughts and feelings flying back and forth through your mind, there's one that stands out the most. 

Your so fucking glad you waited.

"Are you alright?"

When you don't say anything, too blissed out to form words, Jake pants out your name against your neck; his voice laced with urgency.

"I need... I need a moment. Just a moment," you manage to pant, forcing breath into your lungs. Jake moves, trying to bring himself onto his elbows as his back screams in protest.

"Did I hurt you?" he asks, stroking your cheek. You manage a small shake of your head, the sides of your mouth turning upwards. "No," you reply softly.

You finally open your eyes to see Jake staring down at you. His brow pulled together in concern. And, of course, you, being you, had to say the first thing that came to mind.

"I guess you did give me a good time after all."

Jake tilts his head for a second before his memory catches up with him, and he shakes his head, though you can see the puff he takes out of pride. 

"What am I going to do with you, Elizabeth Beck?"

You grin up at him. "Hopefully, a repeat of that sometime in the near future?"

Jake rolled onto his side with a groan, pulling you with him to lie half on his chest. The action caused him to slip out from you, which you were grateful for. The quick movement only caused a brief amount of pain, and you were sure if he drew it out, it would have been worse. 

Jake was pressing kisses to your forehead as the aftershocks finally made them known. You trembled against him, hands trying to find purchase along his chest, and Jake didn't stop until he was sure you were okay.

But, in the blissful silence, once you calmed down, Jake playing with your hair against your back, did he finally ask the question you knew was coming since he walked through your front door.

"Does she hate me?"

You weakly lifted your head from his shoulder, watching the conflicting emotions play across his face.

"The day at the beach. She was devastated..." Jake trailed off, absentmindedly staring at your bedroom wall. You pressed a kiss to his chest. "We've both had a lot of people in our lives that have hurt us."

"I'm used to disappointing people, but her? She has every right."

You frowned. "She missed you so much, Jake."

He shook his head, slamming his eyes shut. You lifted your hand off his chest to cradle his jaw, your thumb stroking across his cheekbone under the newly darkened skin. "She could never hate you. She asked me every day when you'd be coming home."

Jake didn't open his eyes, but he did lean into your touch, his shame and guilt still evident.

You wanted to tell him about the most recent thunderstorm, Sadie waking up and crying out for the both of you in the middle of the night. You had done your best to soothe her, but deep down, you knew she wanted Jake. Nothing could compare to his words of reassurance or the way she felt when he hugged her that night.

In the end, lifting his dog tags off your neck and placing them around hers was the only thing that worked. Huddled in her bed with your arms around her, she fell asleep with them gripped tightly in her hand.

Something told you even if you did tell him, it would only make him more upset.

You stroked your fingers over his forehead, asking him softly, "Come with me when I pick her up from camp next week? I promise she will prove you wrong."

There was a silent pause, and then he opened his eyes. He searched you for any hint of deception, not that he would find any. Sadie was just as important to him as you were. In the end, he nodded once with a sigh.

It was a few more minutes before he carefully untangled himself from your hold. He swung his legs over to the side of your bed with a groan, his muscles spasming as he sat up. Even in your blissed-out state, you reached out and placed a hand on his upper back, where his bruise was the least dark, hoping to soothe some of his pain.

"Where are you going?"

"Getting something to clean you up."

"You don't have to, Jake. I can take care of it."

"It's my job," he countered, turning his head to look at you with a cheeky grin. "Let me do this for you."

He stood, lumping slightly to your bathroom to grab something to clean you up. You watched him go, taking him in in all his naked glory, biting your bottom lip hard.

You still couldn't believe he was yours.

You weren't expecting this: the gentleness as he took the rag between your legs when he returned, the kiss he placed on your thigh when you whimpered from the sensitivity.

After tossing the rag into your laundry hamper to be dealt with later, he maneuvered himself back into the position he assumed last night when you fell asleep, head buried in your neck, arms wrapped under your shoulders.

It was soothing, his weight on your chest almost counteracting the dull throbbing in your core.

"How long do I have you for?" you asked, threading your fingers through his hair.

"I have nowhere to be for the next two weeks," he mumbled into your chest.

"Stay with me?"

"As if I'd leave you now."

😏😘 You hate me now?

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Part 22 - Jump in progress

Wickett ;)

[batbusiness-schooldropout]

The Conclusion

Part7

Barry: Hey Spooky, what you doing? I've been trying to get a hold of you for 20 minutes.

Bruce: Cobblepot out of Blackgate. Purim truce. Be quieter.

Barry: I'm going to pretend that makes sense. You need to get your kids

Bruce: No.

Barry: You don't understand! Red Hood has been shooting Green Arrow all day!

Bruce: Is he still alive?

Barry: Well yeah he's been using a beebee gun.

Bruce: Looks like those self-help books are working

Barry: Blondie and the new guy have been harassing Question

The Man Himself: You should let your kids come here more often. It was fun pretending to be crazy.

Barry:......Black Bat is trying to kidnap Captain Marvel

Bruce: Remind her that she can't adopt brothers, and she promised not to adopt kids until she's 21.

Barry: And Red Robin has been getting into fights with GL!

Bruce: As long as he isn't committing war crimes or antagonizing terrorists, he's fine. What about Nightwing and Robin?

Barry: What?

Bruce: If 5 of them are up there, the other 2 are most likely there too. You should probably find them.

Dick: Glad to see you survived Ozzy's Purim get-together B. Should I gather everyone up and come back home?

Bruce: Where's Robin?

Diana: He's been sparring with me. His footwork is excellent as always, and his feints have improved immensely! Although he's almost a teenager and if he is going to be as tall as his father, he will need to learn to not rely on his small size soon

Bruce: Thank you. I'll be sure to adjust his training. Anything else you feel like complaining about Flash?

Barry: What the actual hell is going on!?

Diana: Despite how he acts at social events, Bruce Wayne is actually a lightweight and only drinks on holidays

Dick: You think he's grumpy normally? You'll have an easier time getting an elephant in a dress than getting him out of bed today

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Taking a shower, be back in a bit (hopefully)

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TW: graphic violence, sadism, drinking, D.I.D., bipolar behavior, sensual behavior, matricide, obsession, drugging, mentions of death, other mental problems, Norman and Norma should be a warning themselves rip

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Family:

Wife: @/girl-stuck-in-the-delusion (Hailey Bates)

Children: Damien Thorn (played by me), Andy something or a rather (played by Hailey), Norma Bates (played by me), Audrey Bates (played by Hailey)

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Slight NSFW at times, depending on the mod

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[EDITOR NOTES]

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And I should add if you people wanna torture norman ( embarrass him )

Check the ask & answer hashtag before making an ask (if you've seen one more than once, I've seen one more than once)

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(Extras)

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Doe Eyes || CH4 - Worth Being Sore Over

See CH1 for warnings! || Chapter list || Masterlist

        Thirty days had passed. You marked each day in a little notebook, and wrote down a song title for each day. Aside from Beth's occasional singing, you hadn't heard real music in a long time. Music was the thing you missed most from the world before, and you thought it would be a good method to keep music alive. Even if you couldn't hear it, you could remember it. The songs weren't even necessarily songs you likes, just the ones you remembered.

        Day 28 - Don't Fear the Reaper ~ Blue Oyster Cult

        Day 29 - Nights in White Satin ~ The Moody Blues

        Day 30 - 21 Guns ~ Green Day

        You guys had a run to make, so you scribbled your entry quickly and got dressed, grabbed a bite, chugged some water, and did a few stretches. You had learned the hard way how sore you could get doing so much labor with no warm up. So, every day you stretched. 

        The council was wary of you at first. Michonne recognized you from the time the Governor sent you after her with Merle, who you learned some time ago was dead, and she made her concerns known. Brandy stuck up for you, though, reminding them that it was you who hadn't gone after her when you could have. You also reminded them that you were on guard when they broke in to rescue Glenn and Maggie, and you didn't go after them. You asked to prove yourself and you did, taking down seven or eight walkers outside the fence on your own with just a crowbar. It worked, and you got to earn your place. So, when you were called upon to make a run with the group, you didn't protest. 

        Brandy hated it, though.

        "You're really gonna go?" She asked you as you made sure your bag was empty to ensure plenty of space for loot.

        "We've been over it." You shrugged. "Every single time, might I add. This is my job. It's how I earn my keep."

        "There are so many jobs that need done around here." She argued. "I mean, I'm up to my ears in laundry. Why the hell are there only three of us on laundry duty? There are like a thousand people here!"

        "A thousand?" You laughed. "Try again."

        "Details aren't the point! Just stay and do a normal job!" She pleaded.

        "This is a normal job, Brandy." You told her, stepping past her and exiting your cell.

        "No it's not. It's like, betting with your life or something every time you go."

        "Come on, stop being such a drama queen. We haven't had a single incident the entire time we've been here." You sighed. When her glare was unrelenting you decided to lay a hand on her arm and offer her a half smile. "Chillax, cowgirl. We're professionals and shit."

        She laughed at that and shook her head.

        "You better come back in one piece." She scolded.

        "Always do!" You chirped as you skipped away before she could protest any further.

----

        "Just give it a second." Daryl said after banging on the glass outside the grocery store to lure out some walkers.

        "Okay, I think I got it." Zach announced.

        "Got what?" Michonne asked, walking up behind him. You raised your eyebrows at him, awaiting his response.

        "I've been trying to guess what Daryl did before the turn." He said.

        "He's been tryin' to guess for like six weeks." Daryl complained.

        "Yeah, I'm pacing myself." Zach defended. "One shot a day."

        "Alright, shoot." Daryl sighed.

        "Well, the way you are at the prison," Zach began. "You being on the council, you're able to track.. You're helping people but you're still being kind of.." He trailed off for a second, gathering his thoughts. "Surly." He nodded. "Big swing here... Homicide cop."

        Michonne started laughing, and you couldn't help but stifle a laugh yourself.

        "What's so funny?" Daryl asked defensively.

        "Nothing." Michonne shook her head, still smirking. "It makes perfect sense."

        "Actually, the man's right." Daryl nodded. "Under cover."

        "Come on, really?" Zach asked.

        "Yup. I mean, I don't like to talk about it, 'cause it's a lot of heavy shit, you know?"

        "Dude, c'mon. Really?" Zach scoffed as Daryl turned his head away and smirked a little. He turned his head back to Zach and gave him a look. One of those 'be fucking for real' type looks. "Okay. I'll just keep guessing, I guess."

        "Yeah, you keep doin' that." Daryl nodded. 

        A walker slammed up against the glass, snarling. You scrunched your nose in disgust at its bloated neck and flaky rotten skin. 

        "We gonna do this, detective?" Michonne asked sarcastically.

        "Let's do it!" Daryl said, strutting toward the entrance.

        The group of you cleared the walkers that crowded up inside, hungry for your flesh. 

        "Alright." Sasha breathed. "We go in, stay in formation for the sweep. After that, you all know what you're supposed to look for. Any questions?"

        "Was there any time that you weren't the boss of me?" Tyreese asked.

        "You had a few years before I was born." She teased. 

        You shook your head and smiled at the siblings bantering as you guys filed inside. You pulled your bag off your shoulder and began searching the aisles for hygienic things, like soap, first aid, pads and tampons, diapers, lotions, just whatever. It wasn't long before a loud crash erupted, and you all rushed to find Bob stuck under a shelf of wine. As soon as you all went to help him, walkers started falling through the roof.

        "Uh, we should get out of here." Glenn said.

        A walker fell down on Glenn but he fought it off and shot it. They just kept coming. You looked around frantically, unsure what the next move was. A walker came up on your side and you whacked it once, then twice, and down it went. Thanks, crowbar, you thought to yourself. 

        You decided to just keep taking them down, until someone shouted some order into the chaos. You definitely couldn't leave anyone behind. You noticed Daryl and Zach working to get Bob out from under the shelf, so you hurried over to help. When the weight was lifted just enough, Bob slithered out from under it. Unfortunately, so did a walker, and it took a big chunk out of Zach's leg.

        You all froze, stunned. Thirty days of good luck, and of course you had to witness the first tragedy in a month. The walkers swarmed him, taking bites from anywhere they could reach, including his face. You gagged at the grotesqueness, but ultimately you all had to go and preserve your own lives. You were teary eyed as you all made your escape.

        The ride back was a solemn one. Nobody spoke, and you personally were filled with dread. Who was gonna tell Beth about her boyfriend? 

        "What about Beth?" You asked, clearing your throat first to break the silence.

        "What about her?" Michonne asked.

        "Who's gonna tell her? About Zach?"

        "Me." Daryl grunted.

----

        "His face?" Brandy asked in horror. She shook her head as she passed the wine you snagged back to you after taking a sizeable gulp. You nodded and tilted the bottle back, chugging a few mouthfuls for yourself. You and Brandy shared a cell, partially for space conservation but mostly because Brandy said it would be just like sharing a dorm in college. You wouldn't know, you never made good enough grades for a college.

        "Yeah, man. It was sick. I can't get the image out of my head, you know? He was just screaming in agony and we couldn't do anything but run."

        "Well, get some rest. We both need it." She sighed. You agreed as you closed the wine and climbed up to your bunk. You didn't get much sleep, though. Your thoughts ran rampant, and you weren't drunk enough to quiet them. You tossed and turned for a while, earning a few complaints from Brandy, but your eyes eventually fluttered shut.

        The next morning you woke with a headache. Brandy was still asleep, so you went and found some instant coffee and made yourself some with room temperature water. No sugar, no cream, exactly how you didn't like your coffee, but at least it was caffeine. You were always more of an energy drink person, anyways.

        You yawned and took a sip, rubbing your eyes. D Block was always quiet in the mornings. You heard shuffling walking toward you but you didn't look up. You assumed whoever it was, they were just as groggy as you. No need for chitchat. That was, until  you heard that familiar guttural hissing. Your head snapped up and your heart dropped.         

        "Shit!" You shouted. "Fuck! What the fuck!" 

        You jumped up, dropping your coffee. Quick thinking wasn't always your strong suit. Your first idea was to throw a chair at them -- the two walkers that were headed straight for you, that is -- but of course in a prison they were all bolted to the ground. Your next closest option was a coffee mug, which did no damage when you chucked it at it's head. That was when you realized it was a familiar head, the kid with the glasses that always followed Carl around.        

        "Shit, man." You breathed. "How'd you die?"

        Gunfire and screams followed shortly after. People filed in with guns as chaos ensued, gunning down walkers and being taken down by them. Rick and Daryl rushed in, so did Carol and Glenn, and eventually with their joint efforts the walkers were taken down. Lizzie and Mica's dad was bit, and Carol tended to him. You searched around for Brandy and found her crying on her cot.

        "The hell was that?" You asked in disbelief as you plopped down beside her. 

        "How did they get in?" She cried.

        "No clue." You sighed. "If it's not one thing, it's another."

        At least I'm awake now, you thought.

----

        Patrick died from some kind of flu, that was what started it. Now you were all quarantined to D Block, just in case it spread. How funny was it that a common flu could end a life so quickly. Patrick was fine yesterday, and so was Charlie. It killed fast. You and Brandy decided if you were confined to a cell, you'd finish off the wine and play the uno cards you took from the library.

        "Draw four." Brandy gloated triumphantly. 

        "Asshole." You grumbled, pulling four cards from the deck.

        "You know, if I survived all this, just to get taken out by a fucking flu, I'm havin' a personal conference with the big man upstairs when I get there." Brandy said.

        "Oh yeah? What makes you think that's where you're going?" You wondered.

        "And just what is that supposed to mean?" She inquired.

        "Didn't you know? All rich people go to hell." You joked. She rolled her eyes.

        "You're a real sore loser, you know that?" She said. You glared at her. "Uno." She smirked.

        "I'm just sad." You admitted, throwing your cards down. "Thirty good days, and then like ten tragedies within twenty four hours."

        "Yeah." She nodded. "That's a loss worth being sore over."

[theharrowing]

Collateral 🗡️ 14: Darling, breathe

Your ex-boyfriend gets in over his head working for the local mafia, and Boss Min has come to collect his payment: You.

But was it simply a matter of being in the wrong place at the wrong time? Or has he always had his sights on you?

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🗡️ Yoongi x Female Reader x Namjoon 🗡️ word count: 17.9k 🗡️ mafia au, strangers to lovers, graphic violence, major character injury, poly, smut, angst, fluff, nsfw, explicit 21+  🗡️ chapter warnings: gun range, handling a gun, car chase & collision, gun fire, blood, gore, watching a man get stabbed with a katana, major character injury, bath & foot massages, nightmares, early signs of ptsd, weed smoking & cocaine use, teasing the maknae, mention of noona kink, threesome, use of "baby" & "daddy", pussy & thigh slapping, begging, talk of masturbating while thinking about jungkook, the wee-ist bit of breath play, use of vibrator, established safeword use, orgasm control, oral & vaginal sex, squirting, spit-roasting, blow job, spit, anal fingering, all holes filled, namjoon's dick is big bc of course it is, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, cum in mouth & creampie, news of minor character death (sorry!) 🗡️ note: ummmm........i really do not know how the fuck this chapter became so long (i mean.........i definitely went wild on the smut......) but, uh..........? enjoy! you've gotten this far, so you know i do not fuck around with the warnings, but if you are sensitive to violent shit, please take care and heed the warnings. see you on the other side! 🗡️ beta read by @neoneunnajimin! 🗡️ posted on march 2023 |��read on ao3

In the two days since you accompanied Yoongi and the terror twins to the gun range, you have spent some time getting used to your new cell phone. You have followed Namjoon on Instagram, and have uploaded a few photos of your own, pretending that you and mister mafia boss have recently returned from a weekend in Kyoto. 

You wonder, looking at the images again somewhat longingly, if you will ever get a chance to visit Kyoto. You wonder if Yoongi would want to go again and show you around. All of the photos in your Kyoto folder feature sprawling landscapes and a sense of serenity you are not sure you have ever felt in any place before and you would love to experience it by his side. 

The vehicle you are in suddenly jostles, pulling you from your thoughts of Japan, and you jolt up, gazing around the driver's seat through the windshield. The large, black SUV ahead must have stopped suddenly, causing Taehyung to break abruptly.

"Shit, sorry," Taehyung mutters under his breath as he waits for the light ahead to turn green. 

Your eyes fall to the side of Jeongguk's face briefly, studying his expression, which appears calm, if not for the hint of a frown down-turning his lips. Since your little chat with Namjoon, you no longer gaze at Jeongguk and see a petty little brat whose only mission is to get under your skin. Now you see a man who uses his bratty behavior as a defensive mechanism—a pretty man with chiseled muscles, pierced nipples, and a noona kink. 

Gazing to your right, you find Yoongi appearing relaxed, leaning slightly toward the door with his arms crossed over his chest, watching you with a wide smile on his face. The expression gives you chills, and you sink a little into your seat. 

With a waggle of his eyebrows, Yoongi looks to the back of Jeongguk's seat, then back to you, before winking. Warmth rises to your cheeks, and you shake your head, finding it difficult to hold back from cracking a smile. These men are going to be your breaking point. There is no way around it. 

"Here we are," Taehyung announces flatly, almost as if spoken through a sigh, and you turn to the window, glancing at the familiar building just outside. 

Although you feel anxious to be returning to the gun range, the air in the vehicle feels far less charged. Even Jeongguk managed to give you a simple, "Hey," as you got into the car, and has not spoken a word since. 

Everyone clambers out of the sedan and walks into the range just as you had before, with Taehyung in the lead, Jeongguk second, and Yoongi reaching from behind you to hold the door open, since Jeongguk does almost nothing to acknowledge your proximity, allowing the door to fall closed before you can reach it. All for the best, you tell yourself. Lack of acknowledgment is quiet. Peaceful. 

The musty smell of the gun range main lobby and storefront hits you nauseatingly, and you take your next inhale through your mouth, keeping your eyes glued to the scratchy grey carpeting as you head toward the staircase. Everyone's footfalls tap rhythmically against the cement, falling into place nicely, and you continue to watch your toes and Jeongguk's heels as you climb slowly to the second floor. 

This time, when you enter the room, and everyone walks toward the bar for a drink, you follow behind. Taehyung pours four glasses of brown liquid from the unmarked crystal decanter, and you lean against the rich, dark wooden surface, twirling the glass ever so slightly as the scents of spice and caramel hit your nose. As you all lift your drinks in a toast, Jeongguk's eyes meet yours, and a tiny smile flits across his lips. And this time, with a quickening pulse, you allow yourself to give him a gentle smile, in return. 

Your shooting improves quickly, and the hour breezes by. Yoongi even leaves you alone for a chunk of the time, practicing in his own lane, and you get lost in a rhythm of shooting and reloading to the sounds of bullets exploding from guns on both sides. At first, you worry that coming into the range with a buzz would make your shot a lot sloppier, but the mystery liquid loosens you up just enough that lining up your shots and breathing through each one feels easy.

When the last of your targets is held up by Taehyung's long, tanned arm—sleeve rolled to his elbow with a very expensive-looking watch glinting in the somewhat dark room—he regards you with a lift of his eyebrow. 

"You could kill a man easily with an aim like this."

Taehyung speaks with a tenor so rich and alluring, that it makes his words sink down to your bones even more uncomfortably than if anyone else were to say them.

You smile nervously and mutter, "Thanks, Tae," between your teeth before turning your eyes away from the target, impressive as it may be.

Taehyung chuckles as he sets the paper down with the others on the table by the back wall, then he leads the way out of the range and into the lounge area. You take off the headphones and eyewear and set them on the shelf of your lane, then stay back while Jeongguk trails behind Taehyung, waiting for Yoongi to finish packing his empty magazines into his small duffle bag, before following him out. The four of you reconvene at the bar, and by the time you approach, Taehyung has the crystal decanter in his grasp, and he pours four glasses. 

Part of you wants to ask what is so special about this particular liquor, but there is something exciting about the mystery. The vessel is a little over halfway empty when Taehyung sets it onto the counter, and you wonder if, when you return, it will be refilled. You cannot remember how empty it was left days ago, nor how full it was earlier today. You wonder whose job it is to refill it.

"Let's raise a toast to two of my favorite little sharpshooters," Yoongi says, pulling you from your thoughts and making you blink heavily as you regard the men around you.

Taehyung stands in front of you, on the other side of the bar, Jeongguk is to the right, at the far end of the bar, and Yoongi is directly to your right. You lift your glass and tap it against the others, then let your gaze fall to the countertop as you pull the drink to your lips and sip. The flavor is strong—caramel, wood, and spice—making you wince ever so slightly as it hits your tongue.

A shrill, loud ringtone blares, causing you to flinch, and Yoongi pulls his phone from his pocket. You notice Seokjin's smiling face before Yoongi thumbs over the screen to accept the call and lifts it to his ear. 

"Hello?" Yoongi says. 

The sound of Seokjin's voice comes through the speaker loud enough for you to pick up on a somewhat frantic tone, but you cannot make out any words. Tense, you set your glass down onto the bar and notice the other two have the same reaction as you turn your attention to Yoongi. 

"We are at the range," Yoongi calmly responds, then his eyes widen, gaze flicking up to Taehyung and then Jeongguk. "Sounds good. We will head back now."

Yoongi hangs up and pockets his phone, then slams back the rest of his liquor. Without waiting for explanation, Jeongguk does the same, then stands up straight with a loud exhale.

"Boss?" Taehyung asks. 

"Seems Ryujin may have caught onto the fact that Hyunjin was one of ours, and has sent a search and collection team."

"How does he know that?" Jeongguk asks, brows knit and angry.

"Seokjin has his ways," Yoongi says simply. "We need to head out."

Taehyung lifts his drink and shoots it, and you hesitate before doing the same. You wonder if the sudden urgency means this search and collection team is also a threat to you—if Seokjin had been somehow tipped off, and he called because he wanted to make sure everyone returns safely to the property.

"Are we in danger?" you ask as the liquid burns all the way down, making you feel nauseated.

Yoongi huffs out a chuckle and shakes his head. 

"Of course not, darling," he responds, rubbing a warm hand over your back. "But we should return home, anyway."

Something in the air feels off—it feels wrong. You cannot put your finger on it, but there is a looming sense of dread that makes your blood turn cold. 

Jeongguk must feel the same, and he reaches for Yoongi's duffle bag and unzips it, then pulls out a handgun. Swiftly, he finds a magazine that is full of bullets and slides it into the handle, then he checks that the safety is on and reaches to set the weapon in front of you. 

"Just in case," he mutters. "I don't like the tone of Seokjin hyung's voice."

Yoongi shakes his head and chuckles, pressing you away from the bar with the tips of his fingers against your back. You pick up the gun, check that the safety is on, then reach behind you to shove the barrel into the waist of your jeans before allowing Yoongi to guide you to the exit. The cold steel of the weapon against your skin gives you chills, and you try not to overthink it, but your heart pounds heavier and harder the closer you get to the steps. By the time you are on the ground level and exit the building, you feel panicked. 

The late evening air is thick with humidity, yet there is a chill that settles deep into your pores, down to your bones. You wear a black tee untucked over tight grey jeans, and you wish you had worn a jacket, but it was much sunnier only two hours ago. Everyone returns to the sedan with a hurried pep in their step, and although the street seems empty, you still feel the urge to flit your eyes from left to right as you approach the vehicle, throwing the door open and quickly shut. 

"Normal route or back way?" Taehyung asks as he starts the ignition.

"Back way to be safe, I suppose," Yoongi responds with a nonchalance that feels unsettling. 

Jeongguk opens the glove compartment and pulls out two black holsters, which he straps around each thigh, connecting them both with a strap to his black leather belt. You half expect Yoongi to say something about the action—to tease him, perhaps, for being paranoid. But Yoongi simply watches out the window as Jeongguk slides a loaded handgun into each one. 

The streets are mostly empty until Taehyung takes a right-hand turn around a corner, and ahead, he spots a large black SUV that sits in the middle of the road with its lights off. 

"Fuck," Taehyung mutters under his breath as he slams on the brakes and throws the vehicle into reverse. 

The SUV's headlights flash on. 

"Seatbelts!" Taehyung shouts as he rounds the corner backward, and you, Yoongi, and Jeongguk scramble to get your seatbelts on. 

Taehyung begins to accelerate forward, but as soon as your seatbelt clicks into place, the headlights shine into the side of the vehicle—blindingly bright, making you squint—before the SUV slams into the passenger side. 

Your ears ring, and you let out a scream as the vehicle is pushed, tilting momentarily onto the driver's side wheels before Taehyung gets control and presses hard on the gas. Desperately, your hand claws at the grip handle on the door while the other attempts to grasp onto the edge of the leather seat, aimlessly trying to hold on for dear life. When you glance around, Yoongi and Jeongguk seem fine, and everything appears intact. 

From outside, you hear the sound of guns firing, followed by bullets hitting the vehicle, and you gasp, feeling every inch of your body respond to fear greater than you have ever felt, quaking through your guts and rising with the taste of bile into your throat. You cover your head with your hands and lean forward, breathing heavily through the urge to vomit and cry, feeling your lungs tighten and burn. 

"How the fuck did they find us so fast?" Yoongi shouts.

Outside, the gunfire stops, but the headlights continue to take chase, blazing brightly through the tinted back window. It is not yet night, and the sun is still setting, making you wonder if they have a special kind of headlight that shines so brightly. You lift your head enough to glance around, noting that everything seems to be intact, save for a small web of cracks on the right side of the rear window, on the outer layer of the glass. The vehicle must be armored. 

"What did Seokjin say?" Taehyung asks, voice higher and more emphatic than you have ever heard from him. 

"Not much," Yoongi responds. "Just warned me that there would be men searching for Hyunjin."

Jeongguk sighs, turning to face the backseat, gaze finding you before going straight back, squinting into the bright light. "But how the fuck did he know?"

"You know how it is," Yoongi responds simply. "People talk. Word travels."

"Seems convenient that word happened to travel so fast," Jeongguk gripes.

"Jeongguk..." Taehyung says in a warning tone, and you do not miss the way Jeongguk's gaze flicks to him and sharpens. 

Clearly, these two have had a conversation before that Taehyung is not interested in rehashing in present company. You wonder if Jeongguk is suspicious of Seokjin and his source of information, and whether there is more evidence to support those suspicions. 

Yoongi, to your surprise, says nothing in response to Jeongguk's outburst. He simply stares ahead, past Jeongguk, through the front window. As skilled as Taehyung is at driving, it seems impossible to lose the SUV, and with each sudden whip around a corner and swerve to dodge a vehicle on the mostly empty roads, you are beginning to feel nauseated. 

"We'll need to get rid of them before reaching the mansion," Yoongi finally says, taking his phone from his pocket. "I'll call Double Seok and Namjoon. Do we have rifles and vests in the back?"

"Yes, boss," Taehyung responds curtly before skidding around a corner and accelerating harder up a winding road that snakes away from the city. Momentarily, the light from the vehicle that is giving chase dims, but then it returns just as bright. 

Jeongguk whips his seatbelt off, sending the metal to thunk loudly against the door panel, and then he begins to climb over the center console and into the backseat. Surprised, you mutter, "Jeongguk?" but he ignores you and scrambles onto the seat between you and Yoongi, on his knees, before he continues his path over the back, and into the trunk. These vehicles are spacious, but never have you imagined a grown man climbing straight through one. 

"Hoseok," Yoongi says into his phone. "We're being tailed. Coming up the east hill from the north, can you meet us? I'll send the location. Call Namjoon."

"Incoming!" Jeongguk shouts, making you gasp and attempt to look through the rear window.

The lights of the SUV brighten before the vehicle slams into the back of yours, causing you to shout and lift your hands to the sides of your head. Your shoulders and head slam against the headrest, instantly making you dizzy, and you sink against the leather, pressing yourself back against the seat in case another impact occurs. 

Something black and heavy flies from the rear section of the car, and you are so shaken that it makes you flinch before you realize that Jeongguk has tossed over a bulletproof vest, followed by two more. You hear the sounds of velcro being pulled apart, and glance over your shoulder to see Jeongguk securing a vest around his torso. 

"Once the others arrive and we get into position, I'll ambush from the rear," Jeongguk states simply, as if they have done this before. 

Yoongi grabs a vest, pulls two velcro straps on the sides until it is loose enough to slide on, then moves his seatbelt out of the way, quickly pulling the vest over his head and securing it tightly before readjusting the seatbelt to the proper position. 

You reach for a vest, but your hands shake so hard you barely graze your fingertips over it. How the three of them could be so calm in the face of danger is alarming, and you suddenly fear that this is a regular occurrence for them. This is not something you can imagine yourself growing accustomed to, and as your outstretched hands tremble, you stare down at the finger on which you have felt the weight of a diamond. Panic hits you in a dizzying wave as you imagine being married into this kind of lifestyle. 

Although you are not proud of how clearly you must be terrified, you are grateful when Yoongi reaches for one of the vests and deftly prepares it for you. With shaking hands, you grab your seatbelt strap and quickly move it so that it is no longer slung over your shoulder, giving you range of motion to pull the vest over your head and arms. The material is thick and just tight enough that it feels instantly constricting, causing your panic to increase. 

"Darling, breathe," Yoongi coaches softly, and you sob through a shattered breath as the air squeezes from your lungs and hot tears pour down your face.  

Once your arms are through the holes, you yank on the bottom of the vest, pulling your head the rest of the way through, scratching the material over your forehead and right ear, then you begin to attempt to reach for the large, velcro straps on the sides, unsure what to do. 

"These pull tight," Yoongi explains, grabbing the one on the right and pulling it forward before smoothing it over your stomach. You do the same with the strap on the left. 

Two fingers slide between the vest and your shoulder, and then Yoongi undoes a strap over the shoulder and tightens it. "Do the other side," he instructs, and you nod and hum in response as you reach up with your right hand to pull loose the strap on your left shoulder to tighten it. The underside of your arms feel uncomfortable resting over the scratchy, thick vest, but you are grateful for the extra level of safety. You just hope that it will be enough.

"Jeongguk and I will take the lead," Yoongi says as you slide your seatbelt back into place. "I want you to stay in the vehicle, unless you are given another instruction once we see how the others are positioned at the meetup spot. Two days at a shooting range are not enough to prepare you for a situation like this."

"What in god's name could prepare me for a situation like this?" you mutter fearfully as Taehyung barrels over a hill so fast, you lift from your seat and your jaw clatters. 

As soon as your words pass your lips, you tense up and stare down at your hands, gripping tightly to one another over the grey denim of your pants. The last thing you have wanted since the day you arrived to the mansion has been for Yoongi to smell your fear, and here you are, terrified out of your fucking mind. 

But if Yoongi is bothered in any way, his voice does not convey it. Evenly, he says, "The only thing to prepare one for war is to be on the frontlines, I am afraid."

A chill runs over you, causing your heart to pound harder and faster than before. War. Yoongi casually describes an event that could very well take place at any point in his everyday life as war.

Briefly, you wonder what Namjoon would do in a scenario like this. And then, as if ice water has been poured over your head, you remember that Namjoon was requested to meet up with you at some point. 

The route that Taehyung drives stretches down long, winding country roads. You have never been to this area outside of the city, and have absolutely no idea where you are, making this scenario all the more terrifying and isolating. 

Ahead are three sedans, all turned sideways and blocking the road. Taehyung accelerates toward the blockade, causing your breath to catch in your throat as you imagine barreling into the vehicles head-on. But then he slams on the brakes and spins, drifting in a circle until the car is sideways, only about ten feet from the stopped vehicles, with your door facing them. 

"Change of plan, darling! Get out and go with Namjoon!" Yoongi instructs as Jungkook passes a rifle over the backseat, and Yoongi takes it, throwing his door open. 

You hardly have a chance to process what Yoongi has said before there is a knock on your window, and you whip your head around to find Namjoon's panicked expression looking back at you. Frantically, you unbuckle your seatbelt and reach for the door handle with a trembling hand. As soon as you manage to get the door the slightest bit open, Namjoon shoves it away and grabs onto your arm, yanking you from the vehicle and onto your feet. 

Namjoon scoops you into his arms and runs through the blockade of vehicles, then off to the side of the road, near a deep trench, setting you onto your feet just before the grass dips low. The loud, rapid sounds of gunfire make you freeze and trip over yourself as Namjoon leads you down into the trench, where he gets onto his knees and huddles. You follow suit and bury your face into his back, taking deep breaths of the familiar scent of spring mornings and musk. Namjoon's presence is familiar in a way that is comforting, and you allow yourself to breathe heavily and cry. 

"Wanted to get you out of there in case the vehicle decided to collide with yours," Namjoon explains quietly. 

This knowledge makes you fold in on yourself more, gripping tightly to the black material at Namjoon's sides as you let out shaky exhale after shaky exhale. No two vehicles do seem to collide, however, and soon, the gunfire stops. Namjoon continues to huddle, and you stay put, unwilling to lift your head and look around until you are given the order to return to one of the four sedans. 

"All clear?" you hear a voice call, possibly Seokjin, from somewhere to the left. 

"Clear!" you hear Hoseok respond from somewhere in front of you. 

"Clear!" Jeongguk and Taehyung shout in tandem.

"Clear!" Namjoon's voice booms. 

There is more shouting, but it is distant, and you wonder if Yoongi had also confirmed but you were unable to hear him. 

"Namjoon," Seokjin shouts, this time much closer. "Get the two of you home. Hoseok will trail, and I will hang back with the other three."

"Heard," Namjoon responds as he slowly begins to move. 

You release your tight grip on Namjoon's shirt and attempt to get to your feet, but your legs wobble beneath you, and dizziness pulls you down into the dry grass. Namjoon turns and catches you by the elbows, attempting to help you get sturdy, but the world spins and shakes, and the urge to vomit intensifies. 

"Did you hit your head?" Namjoon asks as he crouches before you and wraps your arms around his neck. 

As he scoops you up, you shake your head, but then remember you had earlier, when the other car slammed into the sedan, and you nod. 

"They hit us," you mumble. "I think I got whiplash."

Namjoon hums and holds you close, carrying you back toward one of the vehicles. 

"I'll have Taehyung make sure you don't have a concussion, once we get back to the property."

His voice is soft and vibrates through your ear pleasantly, which is pressed against his chest. You close your eyes for a moment, relieved that the world has stopped tilting so violently around you, listening to the sound of Namjoon's beating heart.

Namjoon shuffles around, and you hear a door to one of the vehicles being opened before he is setting you into a seat. You open your eyes and assist with getting into the passenger side, reluctantly letting your hands slide away from around Namjoon's neck. Namjoon bends and smiles, bright and pretty, nearly melting your fears away, and you attempt to smile in return, only feeling your lips tug fully when he leans and presses a soft, warm kiss against your forehead. 

"Let's get you home," he mutters against your skin. 

You sigh with relief. 

"Sounds good."

Namjoon steps back and closes your door. You watch through the window as he seems to be assessing the scene beside your door, and notice that you are in the sedan that was closest to the side of the road you were just huddling by. From here, you can see Taehyung's back as he points, directing someone to do something you cannot begin to parse. The sun has sunken lower, making the sky much darker, and it is hard to make out very much movement and detail with the men all wearing black.

From a distance, bright headlights come into view. The vehicle appears to be moving fast, and fear courses through you. The sounds of shouts ring out from the scene before you, and you watch as Namjoon, who still stands just to the right of your window, draws a gun, pointing it forward. 

The vehicle does not stop. Rather, it barrels straight into the furthest vehicle, the one in which the group who chased you was driving. The sound of metal hitting metal is loud, and although you are far enough from the impact, you flinch, pulling your hands up to your ears. 

Unable to make out the state of either vehicle, you continue to watch the scene before you. Bright white headlights glow off to the right, to the side of the road, and you think you can make out silhouettes of the family men approaching with weapons drawn. Bullets spray, voices shout, and you hold your breath, for fear of screaming. 

Namjoon rounds the vehicle and jumps into the driver's side, pulling your attention to glance at him and make sure he is alright. Of course he is, but none of your thoughts are fully rational, all bordering panicked. 

When you turn your attention back to the action, you see a man running toward you with a gun drawn. This time, you do scream, and when he fires a bullet in your direction, you flinch into Namjoon's side. The sound of the bullet hitting the glass causes your ears to ring. And although the bullet does not pierce the window, there is a white mark and what looks like fractures breaking out from it along the outer layer of the glass, right in front of where your face was, before you cowered. 

Namjoon starts the ignition, throws the vehicle into reverse, and whips it around until the headlights are beaming toward the man whose weapon is still drawn. The man fires twice into the windshield in front of Namjoon, causing a web of thin cracks to burst from each point of impact on the outer glass, and Namjoon accelerates into him, throwing him backward and onto the ground. 

With the way the other sedans are lined up, Namjoon is unable to advance on the man and run him over. The man lifts his arm in the air, gun pointed toward the windshield, and you squint, waiting for another bullet to strike the glass, when Taehyung appears. 

You gasp at the sight of Taehyung—sweaty and disheveled with his sleeves shoved up to his elbows and streaks of blood painting his arms. He reaches for the man's wrist and snaps it as if it is nothing, causing the man to scream in agony before his arm and weapon are dropped. Then Taehyung bends and lifts the man's head by the hair. 

Namjoon begins to back up, muttering, "Sweetheart, close your eyes. You don't need to see this," but you are unable to close your eyes as Taehyung squats behind the lifted man and shoves what appears to be a katana through him, which glimmers in the headlights, piercing out from his guts, dripping with blood, before sliding back, out of sight. 

As the vehicle begins to pull away, Taehyung grins with his eyes trained downward, possibly to where blood appears to be dampening the ripped black shirt. The man convulses, and when the sword appears once more, sticking from the center of the man's abdomen, you squeeze your eyes closed and drop your head into your hands. 

Beside you, Namjoon sighs, and you sink down into the leather seat, hearing only the sounds of the car wheels on blacktop until even that is nothing but a dull, low hum. 

When you open your eyes, the metal gates of the mansion are opening, and you are suddenly alert, listening as metal scrapes mechanically along metal. You must have fallen asleep, feeling groggy as you blink and take in your surroundings. The mansion looks just as it has every other time you have seen it, but tonight it does not feel like the home that you have known it to be. Tonight, it feels like a looming, dangerous presence, akin to a prison. 

"Are you alright to walk?" Namjoon asks as he pulls the sedan in front of the driveway and shuts off the ignition.

Truth be told, you have no idea whether or not you are. With an exhale, you wiggle your toes, glad to at least have feeling and circulation, and then you shrug. 

"Maybe," you respond, voice weak and raspy.

"Don't push yourself," Namjoon says as he unbuckles his seatbelt and opens his door. 

You stare ahead at the silhouettes of trees, covered in a blanket of dark blue with hints of stars. You barely register the sound of the driver's side door closing, and when your door is pulled open, a moment later, you gasp. 

Embarrassed by your jumpiness, you let out a deep sigh and fix Namjoon with a grimace. Namjoon smiles in return and unbuckles your seatbelt before taking you by the arm and assisting you onto your feet. Much to your surprise and chagrin, your legs work just fine.

"Will you carry me anyway?" you ask softly, feeling pathetic. 

Namjoon guides you with an arm around your waist up to the front door and goes through all the steps to unlock it, then he helps you over the threshold and releases you to take off his boots. Saddened by his lack of response, you press your butt against the door, clicking it shut from the weight as you bend and begin to also undo your boots, sliding them from your feet. 

"Come here," Namjoon says as you toss your boots aside and straighten out. 

You take a step forward, and he bends, wrapping his arms around your thighs while you drape your arms over his shoulders, and he lifts you up. Warmth radiates through you as you nuzzle against his warm, soft neck, breathing in the sweetness of his skin, tasting hints of salty sweat. Although there are inches between you where the bulletproof vest acts as a barrier, you feel warm and protected, squeezing your legs around his hips. 

"Bath?" he asks, and you nod as you mutter, "Yes, please," eager to sink into warm water and wash this day from your skin. 

"I didn't see Yoongi," you say as Namjoon carries you up the stairs. 

It takes Namjoon a moment to respond, filling your chest with heavy fear and uncertainty. When they were calling clear, you also did not hear Yoongi's voice, although you did not think much of it, at the time. But if something did happen to Yoongi, would Namjoon be this calm?

"Yoongi will be home soon," Namjoon says. "I got word from Taehyung that a bullet grazed his hand—" you gasp, lifting your head to stare out into the dark mansion, "—so Taehyung is going to clean the wound and bring him home."

"His ha—" you heave, feeling tears well up and spill over. "He was injured?"

"He'll be okay," Namjoon insists. "I promise you, it is no worse than burning your hand on an oven door."

"He could have been hurt worse," you lament, burying your face against Namjoon's skin, seeking out his hairline with your lips, desperate to stop spiraling. "He could have been killed."

"Hey, shhh. Let's not talk like this, okay, sweetheart?"

You enter Yoongi's room, and you nearly ask to be taken straight to bed, instead. But your hands and arms are dirty from taking cover in the grass, and your clothes are undoubtedly in a far worse condition. 

The brightness of the bathroom light makes you groan and bury your face further into salty skin, but Namjoon must adjust a switch because the light dims to something far more pleasant. As you lift your head, you meet your own reflection and take in your appearance. You look exhausted—worn out and a little broken. Dirt is caked on your elbow, and one of the knees of your jeans is covered in green and brown stains. 

Namjoon turns and sets you onto the sink, then he busies himself with the tub, starting the water and setting the temperature. This feels awfully reminiscent of the time you brought Jimin into the bathroom to comfort him. A soft smile breaks over your lips at the memory of the bubbles, and you hug your arms tightly across your stomach. You miss Jimin. 

"How often does something like this happen?" you ask.

Silence—save for water rapidly filling a large, vinyl basin—hangs, and you look up to find Namjoon regarding you with a slight frown. He approaches, fingers unbuttoning his black button-up as he nibbles on the inside of his mouth. 

"Not often," he finally says as his fingers reach the last button, and he untucks his shirt from his slacks. 

You reach out with your feet and hook an ankle around Namjoon's thigh and tug him forward. A soft chuckle falls from his lips as he allows himself to stumble forward, and you reach out to begin to undo his leather belt. Somehow, the idea of undressing yourself feels too big, but you can help Namjoon in small ways.

"Since I have been here, there have been several attacks," you say softly as you attempt to yank his belt free, quickly giving up when it shows you a tiny amount of resistance. 

Namjoon shrugs the shirt to the floor, then untucks his tight black tee and pulls it over his head, dropping it with the other. You reach up to trace your fingertips over the tail of the ink-black dragon on his ribs. 

"It has been quite busy since you arrived," Namjoon admits, unbuttoning his slacks and pushing them past his hips. Your fingertips trace up, snaking along the belly of the dragon. "But it is not always like this."

"What is it always like?" you ask as Namjoon begins to undo the velcro of the bulletproof vest. 

You lift your arms and Namjoon pulls the vest over your head slowly, careful not to let it snag on your ears, chin, or hair on its way up. You have been sweating beneath the material, and when it is set onto the countertop beside you, the sweat turns cold, making you shiver. Namjoon begins to lift your tee, and as he pulls the fabric away, you realize, for the first time all night, that there is still a gun tucked into the back of your pants. 

With a gasp, you reach back, fingertips grazing over warm metal as you struggle to grip onto the weapon. Namjoon looks into the mirror and notices, then he quickly drops your shirt from where he had lifted it over your breasts and wraps an arm around you, grabbing the weapon and setting it aside. 

Two warm arms wrap around you, and Namjoon pulls you close, hugging you against his chest. As tears fall for the umpteenth time, Namjoon's hands caress your back, over the bunched-up material and down, across bare skin. 

"Oh, sweetheart," Namjoon mutters against your temple. "That had to be so scary. I'm so sorry you had to witness everything today."

"They shot at the car," you gasp, feeling heavy sadness and fear burst from your lungs. "They hit the car, too. They wouldn't let up."

"Shhh," Namjoon hushes softly, holding you close. "I know. I'm so sorry. I wish I could have been there with you."

"I felt safe with them–with Taehyung driving, and with Jeongguk and Yoongi," you mutter, inhaling shaky, dense breaths, "but I also felt so helpless. I never—it was h-horrible."

"I know," Namjoon mutters, softly leaving kisses on your temple. 

With a sob, you shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut as if willing the tears to stop. 

"I never want to get used to this."

"You never get used to it," Namjoon responds sweetly. "You become numb in the moment—adrenaline takes over, allowing you to think. But you never get used to it. At some point, all the fear and stress and anger builds until it crashes. It happens to us all."

"I don't want that," you sob. "I never want that."

Namjoon's arms squeeze you tight, then he slowly backs up, sliding from the hug. Although you do not want his touch to leave, you can see that the tub continues to fill, water rising close to the top. Namjoon steps over and shuts off the faucet. 

"Jets?" he asks, reminding you once more of the time you and Jimin were in here and you were setting the bath for him. 

You nod and finish pulling your shirt up, over your head. Then you snake your fingertips under the tight material of the sports bra around your ribs and pull it off. The cool air of the room hits sweat that had collected under the material, and you wrap your arms around yourself, hugging your ribs tight. 

When Namjoon returns, you slide from the counter, socked feet hitting the cold tile floor, and you drop your hands to the sides, allowing Namjoon to reach forward and undo your jeans. The way his hands always tend to gravitate to your body fills you with warmth, and you stand on your toes to lean forward and brush your lips over his. 

The feeling of Namjoon smiling against you makes you smile, and you lazily purse your lips, pressing slow kisses against him while he returns each kiss against you. Calm washes over you, and you let out a deep, slow exhale into his mouth, allowing your eyelids to flutter closed.

Namjoon shoves your pants down, taking your underwear in the same motion, and you step from the material, haphazardly toeing out of your socks. Then you suck Namjoon's lip between your teeth before pulling back and opening your eyes. 

Even the faintest brush of Namjoon's lips has revitalizing powers, and you smile as Namjoon stares down at you with something bordering between soft and sharp in his gaze. His arms wrap around you, tugging you close, and you gasp as he bends and kisses you again, flitting his tongue out gently until you open your mouth, giving him access. 

"We should get into the bath," you grumble against his lips, but Namjoon only licks into your mouth with a hunger deeper than before, sighing as you flit your tongue lazily against his. 

"We should," he says before kissing down your jaw, to your neck. "But now I don't want to take my lips off you."

"I'm all sweaty," you complain, attempting futilely to push Namjoon away. 

He groans, making your smile grow wider. "I don't care."

Your emotions are all over the place, dizzying. The ghost of tears streak your face, and you feel a heaviness that lingers from deep sadness and frustration of earlier. But Namjoon is warm, firm, and safe, and he kisses you in a way that makes you feel cherished. 

Namjoon's lips trace the curve of your neck, down to your shoulder, and you loll your head back as you let out a deep, pleased sigh, conceding to his inviting touch. 

"Alright," Namjoon finally mutters, taking one of his hands in yours and guiding you toward the tub. 

You allow yourself to be tugged, then you clamber in, attempting to be careful but quickly knocking your ankle joint into something hard and slipping a bit. Namjoon chuckles as he gets in beside you and stands, holding his arms out to help you. Although you feel much more calm than you had only moments ago, your limbs may as well be overcooked pasta—loose but heavy and difficult to maneuver. 

The water is just a bit too warm, but you feel somewhat numb as you settle into it, finding the seat and sinking down. Namjoon sits across from you and uses his feet to hook behind your ankles and lift your feet to his legs, and you giggle as the movement causes you to slide, butt resting on the edge of the seat and water up to your ears. You lay your head back and smile at Namjoon as he lifts your right foot and begins to dig his thumbs along your arch, squeezing and massaging. 

The feeling is a mix between heaven and hell, and you let out a deep sigh, relaxing further as Namjoon continues to slowly work his thumbs and palms over your foot, releasing the tension. You close your eyes and listen as the water rushes around you, pushing and pulling through jets in a comforting rhythm. When Namjoon sets your foot down to grab the other, you keep it rested on his thigh and stretch your toes forward to brush them against his tummy.

The initial squeeze of your left foot makes you sigh once more, edging on being slightly too painful. From downstairs, you hear the front door close, followed by the sounds of voices traveling through the large, empty space, and you open your eyes and stare ahead at the tall white ceiling, anxious for the men to come upstairs and join you. 

"Hubby's home," Namjoon says sweetly as his hands fully engulf and squeeze both of your feet, thumbs rubbing in circular movements just beneath your toes. 

You smile and chuckle at the ridiculous nickname, giving your head a shake as you listen for more signs of movement. Finally, you hear a deep voice that you are certain must be Taehyung, followed by the grumble of Yoongi. 

Taehyung appears in the doorway first, then Yoongi, who is leaning into Taehyung's side, hobbling slowly with his arm slung over Taehyung's shoulder. He smiles, but it does not reach his eyes, and when his other hand comes into view, it is bandaged. 

With a gasp, you sit up, yanking your feet from Namjoon's lap and sending water sloshing over the sides of the tub. Your heart pounds nauseatingly fast, and as the cool air of the bathroom hits your naked chest, you pull an arm up to cover yourself, more concerned at the moment about how cold you feel than at Taehyung seeing your bare breasts. From the stoic look on his face as he regards you and Namjoon, Taehyung also does not seem concerned. 

"Don't panic," Yoongi says, holding his injured hand in the air. "I took a bullet to the vest, right in my sternum, and it hurts like a mother fucker, but I just need to rest."

"You took a—" you gasp, voice becoming weak and dying in your throat as Yoongi's words sink in, and you realize that someone managed to shoot him in the center of the chest. What if they had been just a few inches higher?

The overwhelming urge to cry hits you once again, and Namjoon moves across the tub, sliding into the seat beside you, and wrapping his arms around your torso—stable and warm.

"It's okay, sweetheart," Namjoon says sweetly, making your chest ache all the more. 

How must Namjoon feel, knowing the man he loves has been shot and injured? How can he be handling it so well? All you want to do is scream and cry and tear at your skin until it all peels off, leaving you a numb, useless pile of bone and guts.

Taehyung deposits Yoongi onto the closed lid of the toilet seat, then approaches you, pulling a long, black instrument from his pocket. 

"Yoongi, Jeongguk, and I are all fine after the bout of whiplash, but I would like to check your eyes," Taehyung says, squatting beside the tub.

You nod and stare up at Taehyung, who switches on a small flashlight beside the right side of your face and slowly pulls it toward you until some of the light hits your eye. His expression remains stoic as he moves the light to the left side of your face and does the same, then he switches it off and cracks a smile. 

"Your pupils are dilating properly. Do you have any severe head or neck pain?"

You shake your head and mutter, "No, just a little soreness where my head hit the seat."

"Nausea or dizziness?"

"Kind of, but it could also be related to all the anxiety."

"Alright," Taehyung says, standing and taking a step backward. "If you happen to become dizzy or nauseated enough to vomit, or experience any sharp head pain, please call me and I will come right over."

"Thank you, Taehyung," you say softly, feeling a sigh of relief wash over you.

With the softest smile you have ever seen him make, Taehyung says, "Don't mention it, buttercup."

Yoongi begins to unbutton his shirt as Taehyung backs up, then turns gracefully on his socked feet, leaving the room. You feel tempted to get out and help him, only to realize that you and Namjoon had been so distracted by each other's lips that neither of you bothered to grab any towels. 

"Do you need anything, baby?" Namjoon asks sweetly, and Yoongi smiles and shakes his head. 

"I'm fine, really," Yoongi says as he stands, wincing as he straightens himself out, then pulling his lips into a smile. "Taehyung insisted on helping me up here, even though I told him I could manage."

Yoongi pulls off his shirt, slipping the material past his shoulders and letting it fall down his arms, past his hands. You can see the limits in his range of motion and feel yourself frown. Yoongi walks over to the cabinet and grabs three towels, then sets them onto the closed toilet seat and as he begins to lift his untucked tee over his head, you feel a little surprised by his observation; you had not asked for towels. 

In the dead center of Yoongi's chest, nestled between his pecs, is a red welt. The skin around it is raised and pink, and you worry your bottom lip between your teeth as you watch the skin and muscle around the mark stretch and relax and flex with each movement he makes. Even through the thick vest you wore, the impact of the bullet is still that great, taking you by surprise.

Yoongi begins to unbutton his slacks, and you meet his gaze, finding him smiling sweetly at you. With a raise of an eyebrow, Yoongi points to his chest and says, "This is nothing, darling. You should have seen the other guy."

And although his candor and grin bring a smile to your face, you feel a deep ache in the pit of your stomach. This is certainly not the type of nausea that Taehyung warned you about moments ago, but it is nausea, no less. 

As Yoongi's pants and briefs drop to the floor, Namjoon places a kiss on your shoulder, releases you from his hold, and stands up to help Yoongi get into the tub. Yoongi enters right where Namjoon had just been, and Namjoon takes the seat across from you as Yoongi wraps his arms around you from the right side and rests his chin on your shoulder.

"I hate that you had to see all of that," Yoongi mutters sadly against your neck. His lips tickle, but you are too happy to have him close to mind it. 

"It sucked," you say, lips tugging downward as the urge to cry suddenly begins to build. You are so tired of crying, and you do your best to swallow the feeling down. 

"Things like this don't happen often," Yoongi grumbles, leaving kisses up to your ear and down to your shoulder, making you shiver. "But even infrequent is too much."

"She's been attacking a lot, lately," you respond, unconvinced.

With a sigh, Yoongi nuzzles against you, and you close your eyes, matching the slow, measured pattern of his breathing. You imagine never feeling the rise and fall of his chest again, and you do your best to push away the thought, lest it tug you right down into hell.

"She has been," Yoongi mutters softly. "I have attempted to reach out and see if there is anything we can do to appease her, for the time being. I am hoping that she calls me back."

Thoughts of Seokjin's offer come pouring back, bringing new ideas with them. What if you were able to infiltrate her home, after all? Would she take to you as quickly and easily as the men here have? Could you fake affection toward her in order to get what you want, or to distract her from her crusade against Yoongi? Perhaps there is a way to do it without keeping it a secret from Yoongi.

Beside you, Yoongi shifts, and you watch as Namjoon lifts Yoongi's feet onto his lap and begins to massage them just as he had done to yours. Yoongi sinks into the water with a satisfied groan, and you watch as his eyelids flutter shut and a soft smile creeps over his lips. 

The feelings you have for this man are so complicated, but your heart aches at the thought of losing him. This man who has abducted you and brought you to his home. This man who has played mind games, who has been hot and cold, and who has used money, power, and influence to win your heart, who you should probably run and hide from—get as far away from as you can.

But he is soft and sweet, and so, dreadfully beautiful. He has opened your eyes to new pleasures and has offered you practically anything you could possibly want. How could you ever leave him?

Waking up mid-scream is a jarring experience. At first, you are unsure if you even are awake, or if the night terror has managed to twist your grasp of reality, giving you a false sense of security. Mouth hanging agape around a sound you are not fully aware of whether you made, your breathing is ragged, burning in your lungs. You hardly register the gasps and groans from either side of you, trembling as the mattress shifts and gently rocks you side to side. 

Strong, reassuring limbs wrap around you, pulling you against a warm, firm chest. Then an arm snakes firmly around your middle as lips press against your neck. 

"It's alright, sweetheart; I have you." 

"Don't worry, darling; you are safe." 

You do not feel safe. You close your eyes and see a bullet fired into glass just before your eyes. Taehyung's gruesome smile. Taehyung's limbs dripping with fresh blood. Taehyung's katana. 

"I had a nightmare," you hear yourself whimper. You hear yourself sob. You feel yourself begin to cry. 

Everything feels so distant and disconnected—barely registered as your own body. Have you been crying since you woke up screaming? How long have you been awake? Had you ever fallen asleep?

"You were tossing and turning," the raspier of the two voices says against your shoulder blade. 

"Do you need something to help you sleep?" the softer of the two voices asks, sounds rattling from his chest to your cheek.

"No," you mutter, unsure what he is offering; you do not want to move, you just want to sleep.

"We'll hold you until you fall back asleep," they assure you, voices overlapping and molding into one. 

"We'll keep you safe, darling." 

"You don't need to worry, sweetheart."

Get out and go with Namjoon!

"Just close your eyes and breathe.”

Darling, breathe.

Let's get you home.

Darling, breathe.

Sweetheart, close your eyes. You don't need to see this.

Darling, breathe.

“Sleep sweet, beautiful.”

You feel groggy when you wake, unrested and sore. The sun shines brightly through the curtains, and you wonder how much time has passed as you sit up and stretch. With a deep, slow yawn, you glance around the room, finding no traces of anyone, save for the wrinkled sheet and pillowcases. The bathroom and closet lights are off, and all is silent. 

On the bedside table, your phone sits face-up, and you reach for it, wrapping your hand around cold glass, and clicking the side button to turn on the screen. Not only is it just after 1 PM, but you have a message notification. 

Yoongi: Meeting with the guys in the living room. Join us when you are awake? 

The message came in about twenty minutes ago, so you shoot a message back, just in case it is too late to join them— 

You: Just woke up. Be down in a few!

—and then throw the comforter back to stretch your legs before sliding from the bed, feet hitting the soft rug. You are wearing one of Namjoon's shirts, so you opt to put on some of Yoongi's pants and call it good enough. At this point, you are not worried about any of the family men witnessing you without a bra, far too tired to care. 

You are halfway to the closet when your phone dings in response to your text, and you continue with your task of switching on the light, grabbing a pair of joggers, and sliding your legs through each hole. Another yawn sneaks through your mouth as you shut the closet light off and return to your phone, dragging your feet along the way. 

Yoongi: Looking forward to it ;]

Rediscovering that Yoongi sends square-mouthed emoji has definitely been hard on your heart. How can someone like him—a deadly, sexy mafia boss—be so fucking cute?

As you shove your phone into the pocket of your borrowed pants, you slide your feet into some soft, black slippers and make your way to the main hall. Once you pull one of the heavy doors open, the sounds of voices laughing and talking over one another can be heard, and you mosey over to the staircase. It seems like they have not gotten down to whatever business they had planned to discuss—or they have found something to distract themselves with—which suggests you have no reason to rush.

Your slippers clack against the marble steps as you descend, and you rest your hand over the railing, grazing your fingertips over the polished surface. Once at the bottom, you spin and notice that the front door is open, and there are men standing in the doorway while others are seated on the couch. 

It takes you a moment to notice Jeongguk sitting in Yoongi's chair at the head of the large table, and when your gaze falls on him, your breath hitches, and you stop in your tracks, nearly tripping over yourself. Jeongguk's eyes rove down to your slippers and back up, and he lifts an eyebrow as his teeth graze over his lower lip.

On the couch, Taehyung sits with his arm stretched over the armrest, regarding you with a wide smile. In a flash, you picture that smile shining maniacally in the glow of headlights with his arm covered in blood, and you blink heavily to clear the memory, returning the smile with something more akin to a grimace before turning your attention to the front door in search of literally anyone else. 

Your feet stumble and slide awkwardly against the marble as you shift sideways and turn, seeking out someone who you have not recently seen covered in a stranger's blood. Seokjin is blocking the exit, holding the door open with an outstretched arm, and you grip onto the edge of the bulletproof composite of metal and wood, leaning your weight into it as dizziness pulsates through you, sudden and disorienting. 

"Hello, cub," Seokjin mutters in a voice that sounds far too dangerous for your comfort.

With a plastered smile, you turn your face in his direction, but do not fully look at him. Instead, you get onto your toes to gaze over Seokjin's arm, catching Yoongi's eye, followed by Namjoon's, and then Hoseok's. They are standing on the top landing, smoking what smells like a joint, and they both give you soft, lazy smiles. 

"Darling," Yoongi calls, and only then does Seokjin move his towering limb out of your way.

You swallow a lump of anxiety and squint as you shuffle outside in your indoor slippers, somewhat mindlessly making your way into Yoongi's open arm. He holds out the joint to you, and you take it between your fingers without thinking and pull it to your lips. The inhale you intake is far too much for someone who has not smoked in quite a long time, and it tickles and tugs at your throat and lungs until you begin to cough. 

"Oops," Yoongi chuckles as fingers pull the joint from your grasp and two strong arms wrap you into a hug. You bury your face against the soft fabric of a black cardigan that smells like a musky, enchanted forest. "Took a little too big of a hit, darling. You're going to be quite high, I'm afraid."

With a grumble, you nod against Yoongi and sink further into his hold, teetering between safety and fear. Exhaustion feels heavy in your limbs and you wonder when the images of the gunfire and vehicle chase will stop haunting you so heavily. 

"Now that you are awake, I would like to sit down for a quick meeting," Yoongi informs, rubbing a large, warm palm over your back. "It won't be too long."

You nod against his chest and reluctantly take a step back, turning to reenter the house. Yoongi's arm slings around you, and you allow him to guide you over to his now vacant chair to have a seat on his lap. The rest of the men shuffle over to the couch, and you keep your eyes plastered on the row of knees clad in black slacks, until you realize that there are only ten knees. Someone is missing. 

"Gentlemen," Yoongi says as his arms wrap loosely around your sides. "I just wanted to check in and see how everyone is feeling after the event that unfolded yesterday. Seems myself and Taehyung are the only ones to come out of it injured, which is pretty good, considering."

Your eyes lift to Taehyung, but you do not see any sign of injury. He is, of course, clad in black from shoulders to toes, with only his hands and forearms showing, and a hint of skin peeking between two open buttons. And then your eyes drift, taking inventory of the present men, and you notice that Jimin is missing. 

As the men speak around you, their voices fade in and out. Distant and underwater, through worn speakers over poor transmission. Although you catch words here and there—drugs, docks, Shin, men, plan—everything feels too heavy to conceive of and too featherlight to grasp. The sound of your heart pounding behind your ribs is dizzying, and you sigh, rubbing your palms over your face, digging the heels of your hands into your eyes. 

"Darling?" Yoongi asks, voice expertly sneaking through the smoke and tar of your mind. "Are you alright?"

"Couldn't sleep," you mutter, forgetting for a moment that you are sitting before most of the family men. "Feel so tired. Worn thin."

"If you would rather return to bed—" Yoongi begins, but you shake your head no. 

"I can stay."

Taehyung's voice cuts through the cloud, soft and deep. 

"Are you having nightmares?"

You nod without looking at him, eyes still guarded in the blackness created by your palms. 

"I can call Christopher, if you would like," Taehyung offers, and without knowing who Christopher is, you shake your head. You would rather not have any more men brought into your life, for the time being. 

"Christopher is a psychiatrist," Yoongi clarifies, hand rubbing up to your shoulders and down, along your spine. "You may begin suffering from PTSD. Talking to Christopher could help."

You shrug and mutter, "Maybe."

Around you, once more, the talking continues. Yoongi says he is waiting to hear back from his ex, to see if there is anything they can work out to put an end to everything. So far, the only correspondence he has received is that she wants Hyunjin's head and Yoongi's hand in marriage, to which he has asked for a more reasonable resolution. 

Maybe, you think, he should just fucking marry her and get it over with, even though the thought raises bile to your throat. But which would be worse? A broken heart or more nightmares of gunfire and men getting stabbed through with katanas?

You have no idea how long the meeting continues, but you are so high, you have melted back against Yoongi's shoulder, staring at the high white ceilings, which are also so far up there, that you imagine, at times, there are clouds floating by. Sometimes, they are in the shapes of fluffy little rodents. Sometimes, they are the pointed shapes of weapons. 

A tap on your thigh pulls you from your reverie, and you take in a deep inhale as you sit up, watching all the men stand and shuffle to the exit. Actually, just two men. Only Seokjin and Hoseok leave. 

Namjoon sits on the couch flanked on either side by Taehyung and Jeongguk, who appear to be talking to and around him. As you stay settled on Yoongi's lap, not fully ready to get up just yet, Namjoon's eyes lift, followed by the edges of his mouth.

"How are you feeling?" he asks you, clearly interrupting what the other two are saying, making them turn to face you.

Taehyung's eyes are dark and curious, and Jeongguk appears sympathetic. A chill runs through you at the prospect of the terror twins being soft, and you meet Namjoon's warmth instead, allowing your lips to attempt a smile. 

"I'm..." you begin, unsure how to answer the question. You are not well, but you are unsure whether to tell the truth or a lie, feeling each possibility pile up, caught in your throat. 

"Would you like to have your mind taken off things for a while?" Taehyung asks. 

Although his gaze becomes pointed and a bit scary, you expect this to lead to yet another conversation about you fucking Jeongguk. Taehyung instead reaches into his shirt and pulls out a metal vial, connected to a glittering silver chain around his neck. 

You nod before you can consider what is being offered to you—reach your hand out before you can weigh the pros and cons. What could they possibly be, at this point, anyway? Pros, you get so fucking high that the memories are either muted or become exaggerated and silly. Cons, you become anxious and return to bed, where your aching body is certain it belongs, anyway. 

Taehyung pulls the necklace over his head, leans and hands you the vial of cocaine. The spoon is attached to the lid, which you lift carefully, feeling the warm silver chain resting over the back of your hand. You take a spoonful into your right nostril, and then into your left, and then again into your right. And then you hold the two separate items out to whoever is willing to take them from you.

Yoongi shifts behind you, removing his arm from around your waist, and takes them. As he sniffs up two or three piles of drugs into his pretty face, you stare at the blue velvet couch, thinking about how nice it would be to lay on the surface with all your clothing off. 

"Go ahead, then," Yoongi urges.

"Huh?" you mutter; did you say that out loud?

"Go lay down," Yoongi says. "It is very soft."

Taehyung stands, followed by Jeongguk, and Namjoon turns his body and scoots to the far end, giving you space. Although you have no intention of removing your borrowed clothing, you do stand, feeling heavy and weightless as you regain your balance. Then you take three steps forward and get onto your knees, feeling the cushion dip beneath your weight.

You crawl forward on your knees, feeling your slippers slide past your toes and hit the marble floor, then you fall to the side, onto your hip. The velvet is soft and warm under your hands, and you shift your weight until you are laying down, cheek pressed into the cushion, with your face turned toward the backrest, knees curled to your chest. 

"Comfortable?" Yoongi asks, voice close and soft. 

Your eyelids flutter closed, and although your heart jackhammers wildly behind your ribs, you smile and nod, muttering a soft, "Yes."

"You should relax," Namjoon says sweetly, gently tugging on one ankle to straighten out your leg, and then the other. You allow him to reposition you, missing the warmth of his palm when he lifts his hand away. 

"Can't relax," you whine as you roll onto your back and find the four of them in your line of vision, two seated and two standing. "I can't stop seeing Taehyung stabbing that man with a katana."

Taehyung and Jeongguk chuckle, and Yoongi and Namjoon click their tongues against the roofs of their mouths.

"I told you not to watch," Namjoon mutters in his defense. 

"Where did you get a katana?" Yoongi asks.

The rustle of fabric makes you turn your gaze fully to Taehyung, who towers over you like a beautiful giant. No, like a terrifying god. 

"How do you think I got the gash on my stomach?" Taehyung asks nonchalantly as he lifts his shirt and shows a large, shallow slash across his abdomen. He must not have put on one of the vests. "One of those fuckers had a katana. I gouged his fucking eyes out and it became my katana."

Jeongguk grins widely, looking proud and pleased, eyes on the wound, gazing hungrily. You wonder if he fantasizes about licking it. 

"Have you thought about my offer, buttercup?" Taehyung asks. 

He has dropped the shirt down to cover his tummy, and his hands are resting at his sides. You wonder if he must have caught you watching Jeongguk, surprised by the sudden change in topic.

A deep exhale leaves your lungs, somewhere between a laugh and an explosion of exhaustion. You shake your head. A lie, because you have thought about it. You made yourself cum thinking about it, and then proceeded to think about it again and again, over and over, for days.

Even now, when you are lost in a never-ending loop of dripping blood, blinding lights, and a rain of gunfire, it is there, itching at the edges of your mind. Jeongguk and his pierced nipples. Jeongguk and his pretty scowl. Jeongguk and his fucking noona kink. 

"No," you say, feeling heat rise from your chest to your neck. 

"You should," Taehyung responds evenly. "I think you would both have fun."

Previously, Jeongguk has shied away from the topic, but when your gaze finds him, he is staring down at you with an expression that is difficult to read, yet not at all of a man who is disgusted by the proposition. 

You should, your mind tells you. You should, you should, you should.

You are not in a good headspace for it, and you shake your head, lifting your eyes to the tall, faraway ceiling, instead. 

"Maybe some other time."

A hum resounds, you think from Taehyung, and then the cocaine vial is dangled above your face, held out by Jeongguk. 

"More?" he asks, and you shrug and reach for it before sitting up. 

You are still quite high and not in the need for more. But what else is there to do?

"Sure. More sounds good."

You unscrew the vile and snort two little piles, one in each nostril. Your heart pounds and your head spins, and the others join you on the couch, piled around your bent legs and behind your back, surrounding you in a clump of warmth and black linen. You bury your toes beneath Namjoon's thigh, Taehyung rests his bent elbow over your knee, Jeongguk sits with his hip against your hip, facing you, with his legs extended over Yoongi's lap, and Yoongi's shoulder keeps your head from falling. 

Time seems to speed up and you listen as they talk about this and that, laughing over memories and stories, making you feel like you belong here, like this, with them, just a little more. And it feels nice. Taehyung and Jeongguk smile, and this large mansion feels like home. 

Jeongguk recounts the time he got ridiculously high and killed fifteen men, then had to be brought back by Seokjin on his bicycle, laughing so hard, he can barely get the words out. Tears fall down his cheeks, and you resist the urge to reach up and brush them away.

"You're really pretty, you know that?" you hear yourself saying.

Jeongguk's eyes widen, and he actually appears to blush when he realizes your words were for him. You also feel yourself turn warm around the cheeks, but you feel too brazenly comfortable to be embarrassed. Jeongguk is pretty. His teeth stick out ever so slightly when he smiles, and his features are soft and delicate, yet sharp. Sharp, just as you thought about Yoongi the first time you laid eyes on him. Sharp yet soft, and so pretty.

"Why would you say that?" Jeongguk asks. 

The words feel defensive, but his voice is anything but. He sounds unsure. You shrug and let out a weak laugh. 

"I don't know. Just felt like saying it, I guess."

"Hmm," Jeongguk grunts, scrutinizing you.

"What?" you ask as his eyes sharpen.

"I just can't read you," he responds. "I don't know what you want."

At this, you laugh, sitting up from resting against Yoongi's shoulder. Without thinking, you reach over and swat Jeongguk on the bicep, fingertips grazing over muscle and polyester. Jeongguk's gaze edges on anger, and he looks at his arm, then back to you in disbelief. This only makes you laugh more.

"I'm hard to read?" you ask, still laughing. "You are absolutely cryptic."

"I am not," Jeongguk mutters.

"Well what is it, then?" you ask, high out of your mind and a bit petulant. "Do you want me to fuck you or not?"

Jeongguk's mouth falls open and he looks at Yoongi before his gaze falls down to his lap. 

"I'm—" he begins, but you cut him off.

"Seems strange to me that Tae would keep bringing it up if it was something you didn't want. Unless he is just trying to humiliate us both."

At the nickname Tae, Taehyung lifts a brow, mouth curling into a curious grin that you have to look away from. His elbow remains on your knee, and he lifts his other hand to dance his fingertips over the nape of Jeongguk's neck, making him shiver. Cute.

"I'll fuck you if you want me to," you continue, poking the bear. 

Jeongguk scoffs, then looks back up at you, gaze just as distant and bitchy as all those times before, as if nothing soft had ever transpired between the two of you. The familiarity nearly feels comforting.  

"After you called the prospect humiliating, just now?"

"Not into humiliation, baby?" you tease, watching his eyes widen. "Come on, Jeonggukie, tell noona what you like."

Fire rages behind Jeongguk's eyes and he stands quickly, muttering, "Fuck this," under his breath. 

Taehyung's lips tug up in amusement, and Jeongguk glares at him before turning toward the door and walking to his shoes. 

"I like you, buttercup," Taehyung says under his breath as he sits up, patting your knee. 

You are still giggling to yourself as the two of them slip into their shoes and leave. But as soon as the door closes behind them, your laughter is interrupted by Namjoon turning to you with a grin and saying, "Undress. Now."

"What?" you ask, surprised by his instruction.

Yoongi shifts behind you, sitting against the armrest while leaning your back against him. With each movement, he winces and sometimes curses under his breath—a reminder of the welt in the center of his chest. His pain nearly pulls you from the haze, but Namjoon is turning and getting onto his knees at your feet, and his stare is so hot and hungry, you can only melt beneath it.

"Don't make me repeat myself," Namjoon commands, giving you goosebumps. 

You scramble to lift Namjoon's oversized shirt over your head, careful not to fall back into Yoongi's chest or lean too much weight against him. As soon as you are topless, the air hits your skin, hardening your nipples. Although Namjoon's mouth stays straight and firm, you watch his eyes take in the sight of you, softening for a fraction of a second. 

Cocaine continues to rock through your bloodstream, making you shiver as you hook your thumbs under the waistband of Yoongi's joggers and begin to push them past your hips. You take your panties down too and wiggle from side to side, careful again not to put too much weight back against Yoongi, then lift your legs in the air as you pull the fabric past your shins and ankles. 

As soon as the pants are pulled away, Namjoon grabs both ankles in one hand and lifts your legs even higher into the air, making you gasp. Fingertips trace the space between your knees, along the insides of your legs, down your thighs, to your heat. Then he lifts his hand, releases your legs, and spanks your pussy as soon as your legs spread. 

You flinch and gasp from the feeling, meeting his dark, serious gaze while one leg drapes over the back of the couch and the other slips, sending your foot to the floor. Namjoon's palm slaps you again, fingertips striking your clit, and you whimper, letting the pleasure-pain settle over you in a wave of warmth and desire. 

"On second thought," Namjoon says as he stands beside the couch and towers over you, "I can't fuck you on this couch. I don't want to get it all wet."

"Oh," is all you can bring yourself to say, stunned that Namjoon finally wants to fuck you. 

But why now? In the middle of the day. Could it be from the drugs? Had he taken any drugs? You assume the vial had been passed to everyone, but you are unsure whether he actually did any. 

Namjoon bends, wraps his arms around your center, and lifts you over his shoulder as if you weigh nothing—a measly sack of onions. You squeal from the movement, hands searching for something to hold onto, then you relax, succumbing to your fate. It is Namjoon, after all. Safe, warm, sexy Namjoon. You are certain that you would let him carry you anywhere. 

As you are hauled off to the large, marble staircase, Yoongi follows behind with a smile on his face. You wonder if this is a moment they have talked about—Namjoon fucking you. You wonder if they have plotted it out and planned what they would like to do with you. The thought of being spoken about like that has arousal fluttering between your legs, spreading heat over you, to the tips of your fingers and toes. 

Once you reach the top of the stairs, Yoongi takes the lead. You hear the rustling of blankets, and when Namjoon sets you onto the edge of the bed, your skin presses into soft fleece. 

"It's waterproof," Namjoon informs as he begins to undo his belt, making you suddenly feel shy as you dig your fingers into the soft fabric. 

Yoongi approaches your side of the bed and bends down, then stands with a wince, holding your tub of sex toys. The sight of it makes you gasp, and you gaze between them, watching as they grin. 

"You have a nice assortment, darling," Yoongi says as he lifts the lid, surveying your stash. 

"Which is your favorite?"

What a loaded question with no simple answer. The rabbit is nice. The wand is always a treat. The bullet is discrete and waterproof. The suction toy is mind-boggling. And then there is the array of glass. Toys upon toys upon toys, most of which were bought by the ex who you stopped fucking months and months before Yoongi whisked you away, and probably afforded with Yoongi's money. 

Your mouth opens and closes around possibilities, then Yoongi pulls out the mini purple wand, flips on a switch to bring it to buzzing life, and asks, "How about this one?"

With a nod, you say, "That one is nice."

Yoongi sets the vibrating toy onto the bed beside you, then gets onto the mattress, crawling on his knees to the head of the bed, where he arranges pillows against the headboard. Then he sits back and pats his thighs.

"Come here, darling."

"But you're still dressed," you whine, making him grin. 

Yoongi undresses quickly, biting his bottom lip through the obvious pain written on his face, casting each item to the empty half of the bed. When he is sitting in just his briefs and socks, and a small white bandage wrapped around his right palm, he pats his thigh again, and you comply, rolling onto your hands and knees and crawling past the buzzing toy, straddling Yoongi, eager for a kiss. 

Yoongi leans forward and slots his lips against yours, humming as you suck his lip between your teeth and gently nibble. You miss the way Yoongi tastes and feels—miss the way he sounds. You wonder when the last time you kissed him was. How long has it been since you felt relaxed, like all the world could melt away, with your lips pressed to his?

The sound of garments hitting the floor reminds you that a third party is in the room, and you grin against Yoongi's lips and slip away, trailing your mouth down his chin and throat, to his collarbone and nipple, feeling him tremble and gasp against your touch. Although you are eager to find out what Namjoon has in store for you, one of these days, sometime soon, you would like to have Yoongi all to yourself. 

As you spin and take your place between Yoongi's spread legs, back resting against his chest, Namjoon gets onto the bed, onto his knees, and crawls between your ankles, which he spreads further apart with his hands. Already, his cock is hard and leaking against his tummy, and you lick your lips at the sight of him, flushed and leaking precum from the tip. 

Namjoon holds out his palm and lifts an eyebrow, and you hear the buzzing of your vibrator once more, reminded of its presence beside you. You reach for it, then hand it over, then take a fortifying breath, already feeling nervous excitement for what may come. 

Namjoon, with his daddy kink and his commanding tones. Namjoon and the power trip that he can only exercise in the bedroom. 

With a devious grin tugging at his lips, Namjoon slaps his palm over your pussy once more, and you whimper, attempting to close your legs on instinct. His slaps are not hard—just enough to jolt and tease—but you are not used to being touched this way, reacting more to the act itself than to the actual feeling. 

"You upset our maknae," Namjoon teases as his palm and fingers rub over your labia, spreading you sloppily. 

"He's upset me since the day I moved in here," you groan defensively as arousal courses through you, making you sink back against Yoongi. 

Namjoon lifts his hand and slaps his fingertips against you, making you jolt and whimper, feeling slightly tingly and sore from the repeated strikes. 

"I have to punish you for it," he continues, ignoring your defense. 

Your eyes flutter closed as Namjoon's fingers and palm rub over you, gathering slick from your entrance, making his fingers slide more easily. 

This time, he lifts his hand and slaps your thigh, harder than the other strikes, taking you by surprise. You squeal as your eyes fly open, and Namjoon rubs his fingers over the spot. 

"Too much?" he asks.

It hurts, but already the numbness begins to settle, and you enjoy how it feels, spreading heat throughout you. 

"No," you respond barely above a whisper.

"Do you remember your safeword?" Yoongi asks.

You think back to the first time being fucked in this bed, with Yoongi behind you, holding your hair firmly in his fist, telling you what to say in case he becomes too rough with you.

"Sakura," you mutter.

Namjoon grins, then holds the vibrator against your clit, instantly flooding you with pleasure and making you shake. 

"Fuck," you gasp as you sink into the feeling, wishing that Yoongi would touch you. 

Slap after slap, Namjoon strikes your inner thighs until the skin is a pleasant mix of sore and numb. With each slap, you squeal a little louder and jolt a little harder. The vibrator pressed against you adds to the mix in a delicious tangle, sending you plummeting fast toward orgasm while Namjoon punishes you. 

This time, when his fingertips strike you, it hurts. The slap is much louder than previous ones, and you sob, "Sakura!" desperate for some relief despite how close you feel to cuming. 

The pain on your right inner thigh burns bright and hot, and Namjoon sweetly brushing his fingertips over the sore skin is all you need to feel a strong quake of arousal that pushes you toward the edge.

"Fuck!" you scream, back arching. "Fuck, I'm gonna—"

The vibrator is lifted, sending you crashing back down to earth. You claw at the mattress and do your best not to trash too hard against Yoongi, but you want to scream from the loss of sensation.

"Namjoon, pl—"

"What did you call me?" Namjoon asks through a glare.

"Daddy!" you sob. "Please! Please, I was so close."

"Only good girls get to cum," Namjoon says with a devilish smile. You wish you could slap it from his face. 

"Please, please," you beg, with your words and with your eyes. "Please, daddy. I'll be so good."

Namjoon returns the vibrator to your clit and you moan loudly, tilting your pelvis toward the feeling, eager for more. 

"Yes," you mutter as your eyes flutter closed once more. "Yes, yes, yes."

"What are you going to do to make it up to our maknae?" Namjoon asks, grunting through each word as he sits high on his knees over you. 

The weed and cocaine high is beginning to dissipate, causing a different level of tremble to quake through you. Whereas the pleasure shakes are concentrated in your muscles, especially your thighs, the comedown shakes are only skin deep, and sometimes in your bones. You shiver and meet Namjoon's eye, doing your best to look innocent and sweet while your jaw rattles uncontrollably. 

"I w-wont tease our maknae anymore," you promise. 

Namjoon must switch the wand to a higher setting, because it buzzes much stronger, causing you to tense up and sob through a moan before it is lowered back to where it was, at a more pleasant vibration. 

"What if he likes the teasing?" Namjoon asks, cocking his head as he glares down at you. 

Yoongi's fingertips graze over your arms, blunt nails scraping over raised goose flesh, and you tilt your head up, hoping to see him, but finding his chin, instead, which you smack a kiss against. 

"Touch me," you whine, desperate for his hands to do more than scratch at your arms.

"Do you want to fuck Jeongguk?" Yoongi asks.

You sigh and squeeze your eyes closed, not ready for this conversation. Not when your high is building and Namjoon is towering over you nude and erect with that fucking look on his face.

"I don't know," you admit. "Maybe."

Two fingers slide inside your cunt, and you tremble hard through the feeling, gasping and moaning from the stretch. You want Namjoon's cock so badly, you instantly feel as if his fingers are not enough, despite how good they feel. 

"Daddy," you whimper, squeezing yourself around Namjoon's fingers, which sit nestled inside you but do not move. 

He says nothing, just stares down at you, holding the toy against your clit, watching as sweat breaks over your skin and pushing you closer, eyes intent on your every move, you imagine so he can make sure you are not allowed to orgasm. You know that is what he is doing; you know that as soon as you get close again, he will take the toy away. 

"I don't know the answer," you whine pathetically, squeezing around his fingers, pulling yourself closer and closer to orgasm. "If he likes the teasing, then why did he get so angry?"

"You know he wants to fuck you," Yoongi growls in your ear.

"It's written all over his face," Namjoon adds, slowly pulling his fingers out and pressing them back in before they stop moving once more. 

"The other day, at the pool," Yoongi continues, rubbing his lips over your temple, "he was sad when you ran inside."

"He liked seeing you in your bathing suit, sweetheart. He liked you dripping wet." 

Namjoon's fingers slowly pull out, and your eyes flutter closed. 

"Couldn't take his eyes off of you, darling."

"Who could blame him, though?"

Namjoon's fingers slowly press in, and your back arches ever so slightly. 

"You're so amazing, darling."

"Did you touch yourself when you came back to your room, sweetheart?"

This question makes you gasp, and you meet Namjoon's gaze, watching as that devious grin breaks over his face once more. This man is the devil incarnate, and he is going to be the death of you. 

"You did," Namjoon continues, making your cheeks red hot under his gaze.

Namjoon begins to pump his fingers in and out, pulling the last threads of your sanity and bringing you so close, once again, to orgasm. You whimper and shake your head, but there is no use in denying it fully, unsure if you are able to speak the lie.

"What were you imagining?" Namjoon asks, crooking his fingers up to hit the sweet spot inside you. 

"Ahh—fuck—nothing," you whine unconvincingly. 

"Were you picturing him tied to the bed and struggling beneath you?"

Yes.

"No!"

"Did you imagine how pretty and high-pitched his voice might get?"

Yes.

"No!"

Namjoon's fingers speed up, causing your eyes to roll back, shrouding the room in darkness. You gasp and sob, eager to cum, clenching around his fingers, so desperate for release. When his hand stops suddenly and he pulls the vibrator away, you scream out of frustration, feeling tears prickling behind your closed eyelids.

"Daddy, please!" 

"I'll let you cum when you stop lying to me."

"Fuck, fine!" you shout, opening your eyes and glaring at the tattooed statue of a man before you. "Yes, I pictured him while I was in the shower! I imagined his hard, muscular body writhing against the palms of my hands! I imagined what his voice would sound like begging me to let him cum!"

Namjoon sets the vibrator against your clit, sending a wave of pleasure bursting through you, intoxicating. 

"Go on," he instructs with a smile. 

"I pictured him tied up. Slapping him. Riding him—using him like a toy. Spitting in his mouth."

Namjoon's fingers slide back inside, three this time, and you sob around the stretch, feeling your high build and build, already so close.

"What made you cum?" Yoongi asks as one hand rises to your throat and gently rests over you, applying just enough pressure to make all the dams inside you burst. 

"All of it," you confess. "The sight of him, how I thought he would sound, how I thought he would feel. All of it made me cum."

Namjoon fucks his fingers into you, sending your orgasm crashing over you in a rush. You sob through the pleasure, quaking at the hips, squeezing around him. He does not relent, and as you begin to feel your high dissipate, he switches off the vibrator, leans forward, and laps his tongue over your cunt in large, sloppy ministrations, building your high again. 

He changes the movement of his hand, fucking his fingers upward, building the pressure that always comes before he makes you squirt. You claw at the soft, fleece blanket, digging your head into Yoongi's shoulder, practically begging him to stop despite knowing that every sound that tumbles from your mouth is completely incoherent. 

Liquid squelches around Namjoon's fingers and sprays your thighs, and you scream at the top of your lungs, feeling so consumed by pleasure that you fear your grasp on reality might snap in half. Namjoon growls between your thighs, devouring you like a wild, hungry beast, pushing you beyond your limits and turning you into a frantic, mindless vessel that will not stop cuming, wave after wave, building and crashing, only to build again. 

"Please," you finally hear yourself beg. "T-too much."

"Use your safeword, darling," Yoongi croons sweetly against your temple. 

"Sa–sakura," you whimper, sighing with relief when Namjoon stops. 

"Do you need to stop entirely, sweetheart?" Namjoon asks, watching you with concern knit in his brows. 

You shake your head and swallow a lump in your throat, shivering hard as you attempt to get your bearings. 

"No. Just need a breather."

"Do you need more cocaine?" Yoongi asks.

"Yeah," you admit, teeth rattling around inside your mouth. "The comedown feels like shit."

Namjoon chuckles and leans forward to thread his arms through your armpits and lift you off of Yoongi. A sheen of sweat covers you, and as the cool room air hits your back, you begin to shiver. Yoongi slides out from behind you, and you wrap your arms around Namjoon, nuzzling against his neck.

"I can't believe you made me admit all of that stuff," you whine, still picturing Jeongguk. 

Namjoon laughs some more, and you pull an arm away from him and lazily slap your palm against his shoulder. You feel petulant and pout, "Not funny."

"It's a little funny," Namjoon responds with a kiss to your cheek. "I can't wait to tell Jeonggukie."

"You cannot!" you shout, shoving at Namjoon to get away, angry that he is so much stronger than you—but not really angry, and not fighting too hard. His body feels nice against yours. 

"I won't," Namjoon has the audacity to continue to laugh. "I promise."

Yoongi returns to the bed, climbing in on his side of the mattress and crawling on his knees with his coke vial in his outstretched hand. You have enough strength to hold yourself up, and you finally manage to shove Namjoon away, snickering as he dramatically falls onto his butt and feigns being wounded by your actions. 

One small pile into your right nostril, followed by one small pile into your left nostril. The feeling hits you almost instantly, and you hand the items off to Namjoon, who does the same and hands them off to Yoongi. 

Once Yoongi follows suit, he places the vial onto his bedside table, then sits on his knees on the side of his bed, watching you and Namjoon with a curious smile. 

“How will you fuck her?” Yoongi asks.

Namjoon hums, leans forward to cage you in between his arms, and says, “Great question,” an inch from your lips. 

Your breath comes out ragged as you gaze into the deep, dark eyes before you, eager and a bit nervous for what is to come. 

“How do you want me?” Namjoon asks. 

“Great question,” you mutter, somewhat mindlessly repeating his own words back to him while imagining all the delicious ways he might have you. 

“On your hands and knees?” Namjoon suggests, cocking his head. “Spit-roasted and sucking Yoongi’s cock.”

That sounds good. 

You nod, but beside you, Yoongi protests. “Todays is about you. I can just watch.”

“Nonsense,” Namjoon responds, keeping his eyes on you. “I want you to cum in her mouth while I use her tight pussy. Now get back to your place, baby.”

When Yoongi responds, "Yes, daddy," you can hear the smirk on his lips. 

Namjoon wraps an arm around your back and tugs you close, licking over your lips and into your mouth, which you let fall pliant for him to use as he pleases. Yoongi's hands snake around from behind and paw at you, thumbs and fingers grazing and gently pinching your nipples, and you moan into Namjoon's mouth, who growls into yours in response. 

"Finally," Namjoon moans against you. "You have no idea how badly I have wanted to fuck you."

You nod your head and hum against his lips. "I have some idea."

"On your knees," Namjoon commands, pulling from the kiss and backing away.

Yoongi's hands slide away, and you roll onto your knees, then get onto your hands before Yoongi, glance at his briefs, and pout. 

"Get rid of them."

With a chuckle, Yoongi begins to push his briefs past his hips, bending his knees with a slight wince that he attempts to cover up, then he spreads his legs slowly around your arms. You crawl your hands past his hips and lean forward, kissing inches below the welt on his chest, closer to his belly button, then working your way down. 

The blunt tip of Namjoon's cock rubs over your cunt and you gasp, letting your tongue fall and trace meaningless patterns into Yoongi's skin. The anticipation you feel is vast and insurmountable, and you kiss down Yoongi's abdomen, attempting to focus on his pleasure, lest you lose your fucking mind too soon. 

Yoongi's hands grip loosely at your face and chin, rubbing along your neck and hairline, soft but insistent. You glance up, meeting his gaze as your mouth reaches his patch of dark, trimmed pubic hair and you plant kisses along the right side, barely avoiding his cock while pressing your lips against rough hairs, working your way down, down, breathing in his faint natural musk.

The thought of losing this—his smell, his body beneath you, the sweet noises he makes that you can barely hear over the sound of your pounding heart—fills you with the urge to cry, and you swallow it down, take a deep inhale through your nose, and blink it away.

Last night was a fluke, you tell yourself. You are not going to lose Yoongi. Last night was abnormal, and you are not going to be easily ripped away from the man you…love? Do you love Yoongi? The thought halts your movements, and you hover with your lips barely touching his inner thigh. 

And you would love to ponder this question further—really weigh how you feel and let it settle over you—but Namjoon begins to enter you, and the feeling is so overwhelming, all concept of time, space, and emotion outside of full, stinging pleasure are ripped from your mind. 

The feeling is so intense, you open your mouth to moan and possibly scream, then think better of what you should be using your mouth for, and tilt your head down, swallowing Yoongi's length as far into your throat as you can.

Being stuffed full on both ends is a dizzying, salacious game of tug-of-war. Namjoon continues to work you open on his thick cock, forcing you to moan, making you feel the urge to gag and pull off Yoongi's dick with a full-chest gasp before going back down, taking him nice and deep.

"Fuck," Yoongi grumbles, taking a handful of your tied-back hair and holding your head in place as you swirl your tongue and attempt to adjust to Namjoon's stretch.

"So tight," Namjoon groans as his palm crashes against your ass, making you sputter a squeal around Yoongi.

"Doesn't she feel like heaven?" Yoongi asks. 

Namjoon's hands spread your ass wide, and he slides out slowly, dragging himself along your walls, making the crown of his head and every vein known, causing your back to bow. 

"So worth the wait."

You begin to suck Yoongi's cock with an attempt at a rhythm, still overwhelmed by the feeling of Namjoon slowly thrusting forward, but not quite so drunk with pleasure that your mind feels on the brink of being split asunder. 

But then Namjoon pulls back and snaps his hips forward, fucking you nice and hard, and the feeling is so extraordinary, you wonder if he is hitting something inside you he should not be able to reach. Your voice is muffled but pitchy, and you drool around Yoongi with a valiant attempt at holding your feeble rhythm despite the steady movement of Namjoon's hips making it difficult for you to make sense of the world around you. 

Each thrust forward spears you open, pressing into something deep, deep inside you. It hurts and it feels so good, you can only hold your mouth open and moan while Namjoon grips your hips tightly and fucks you, dragging your lips and tongue over Yoongi's length.

The slap of skin against skin, punctuated by Namjoon's dulcet, breathy moans, and Yoongi's low, grumbly sighs is music to your ears. Determined to please Yoongi, you dig your fingertips into his thighs and slurp and swallow and roll your tongue, eager to make him feel good despite not being in your right mind to do your best. Namjoon's cock is dizzyingly good, but Yoongi, of all people, must understand. 

"Can you get on your knees for me, baby?" Namjoon asks.

At first, you are confused—you are on your knees. But then Yoongi begins to move beneath you, holding your head in place so he can slip his cock free and reposition, and you realize Namjoon was not talking to you. 

Namjoon releases his hold on one hip, then you hear the vibrating wand switch back on before he rests it against your arm and says, "Use this."

You take the wand and reposition it beneath you, pressing the end firmly against your sensitive clit. The feeling is instantaneously too much, and you moan loudly as the one arm anchoring you in place begins to wobble.

Yoongi gently takes your head and guides your mouth back onto his cock, and from this position, you are far more capable of sucking him deep into your throat and bobbing your head. You take cues from Namjoon's rhythm and suck like your life depends on it, eager to make Yoongi cum. 

"Fuck, that's it," Namjoon groans, squeezing your ass in both palms. "You feel so fucking good, baby. You look so good taking our cocks."

Pleasure builds at breakneck speeds, and you gently spin the toy over your clit, feeling the sensation pulsate through you, ready to burst. The feeling of something wet and warm hits your ass, sliding down the cleft and over the hole, and you gasp as a thumb collects the liquid and rubs it over your rim. 

"May I?" Namjoon asks, and you realize he must have spit on you. 

You release Yoongi's cock enough to whimper, "Yes," and sob as Namjoon presses the tip of his thumb into your asshole, stretching you as he fucks you hard and deep. 

The additional sensation is a lot, and you eagerly suck harder, feeling yourself build to the precipice of euphoria. Yoongi's hips slowly, gently begin to thrust, fucking himself into your mouth, and you hold your jaw loose and your tongue flat, allowing both men to use you as they please while you become lost in bliss. 

You hardly have a chance to comprehend that you are reaching orgasm before it is crashing over you, drowning you in the undertow. The hand holding the vibrator falls away, and Namjoon picks up his pace, fucking you faster, spearing you open on his cock while the motion thrusts Yoongi deep into your throat, forcing tears to fall from your eyes and streak down your cheeks. Yoongi's hips tremble, and he pulls his cock out, squeezing the tip. 

"Not yet," he mutters, and you gaze up through tear-heavy eyelashes to see him smiling down at you. 

Your arms give out, and you crash forward into the mattress, still cuming around Namjoon's relentless thrusting and probing, screaming and clawing at the comforter below while he fucks you mercilessly with his cock and thumb. You can hear what sounds like praises coming from Namjoon, but you are unable to make out coherent words, drowning in ecstasy as your sprayed release hits your thighs and drips onto the blanket. 

Namjoon pulls out—both appendages—and pushes you onto your side. You crash onto your hip, and before you can get your bearings, Namjoon grabs at your knees and thighs and spins you around, onto your back. 

Your legs fall spread, and you heave deep breaths with your eyes closed, opening them only when Namjoon thrusts into you once more and presses your spread thighs into the mattress. At this stage, you feel too fucked out and exhausted to possibly cum again, and you attempt to squeeze your muscles around him, urging him to reach his high.

Hands grip at your thighs, hips, stomach, breasts, and throat. Voices praise and groan, moan and whimper. You are too lost to the bliss to comprehend who is where, letting your mouth fall open somewhat mindlessly as the blunt, slick tip of a cock presses against your lips. 

Fucked from both ends and touched all over, you sink further and further, float higher and higher, losing grasp on your physical self. You wonder if it is possible for your soul to slip away completely and dissociate from your body. You are almost certain that it is doing just that right now. 

"Fuck," you hear both men groaning in tandem, both sets of hips losing their rhythm against you.

"So close," one deep voice whimpers while the other groans, "So am I, baby."

It feels too perfect for both men to reach their high at the same time, but you lay and accept it. What are the odds, you wonder, that they could both finish in tandem? Impossible. You must be imagining it. 

"I'm cuming," Yoongi warns through gasps, fingertips digging into your face and neck, holding your mouth right where he wants you until his cock slides, then stops, then spurts, emptying itself onto your tongue.

"Holy fuck," Namjoon whines, gripping your hips and leaning forward just enough to somehow fuck you even deeper. "Fuck, I'm gonna—" and he cannot finish his sentence before he becomes a moaning and convulsing mess filling your sore, sensitive pussy with his release.

Yoongi's cum nearly makes you gag as it trickles back and you realize prematurely that you have to physically swallow it down. Slowly, gradually, you remember your basic motor functions, returning to the physical realm where your brain and body need to work as a pair. 

Namjoon pulls out and flops down on the bed to your left, and Yoongi stretches out on your right. The layer of sweat that covers every inch of you turns cold, and you whimper, reaching uselessly for the comforter past Yoongi, wishing to pull it over the three of you like an enormous taco. Luckily, Yoongi gets the message, and he does exactly as you wish, covering the three of you in thick, soft, cool material that you shiver against until it begins to warm.

"What time is it?" you wonder aloud, feeling exhausted despite the bright sun shining in through the window.

"Perfect time for an afternoon nap," Namjoon responds as he wraps his limbs over you.

"Absolutely," Yoongi grumbles as he leans over you, groaning softly into a kiss with Namjoon before settling beside you. 

You smile through each exhale, feeling yourself sink deeper and deeper into sleep, hoping to have fewer nightmares, this time. 

"What do you mean all dead?" you hear Yoongi ask as you blink heavily out of sleep, uncertain whether you actually are awake or not.

Strong limbs hold you tightly—strong limbs that you are able to easily identify as Namjoon—and you open one eye to glance over the shoulder pulling you close to find Yoongi fully clothed in black, pacing before the large blue couch. 

"But you told me you had them on a plane to America, what—"

"What time is it?" you mutter, but Namjoon responds with, "Shhh," pulling you impossibly closer, as if wishing to guard you against whatever is taking place over that phone call.

"So which is it?" Yoongi practically shouts, "You told me they were fucking safe, Seokjin! So why are all three of them dead?"

The sound of glass and metal hitting the floor makes you jolt, and you attempt to look once more, but Namjoon holds tight, making it difficult for you to move. 

"Fuck!" Yoongi screams, followed by a sob.

Every instinct tells you both to hide and to go to him, and you feel restless in Namjoon's arms, hopeless as you are held firmly in place with every nerve on fire. 

"What happened?" you whisper, but all you hear in response is Yoongi crying. 

"Our insider," Namjoon finally whispers back. "Him and his family…they didn't make it to safety in time."

Hyunjin. The man that the search and collection team was hunting down when they chased you through the backroads and fired on you. The men who shot at you point blank, who Taehyung drove a sword through. Another team just like that got him and his family. 

"Baby, come over here," Namjoon calls, but Yoongi does not seem to move; his sobs only grow louder.

"Does this mean Ryujin is going to back down?" you whisper, feeling like a fucking asshole asking this now of all times, considering a man and his family are dead—considering Yoongi is on the floor, weeping openly about a man who you imagine was one of his friends.

"I doubt it," Namjoon whispers back, and you detect a tremble in his voice. "She never backs down."

With your eyes closed, you let out a shattered exhale, feeling panic rise. She never backs down. And as it turns out, now that the informant is dead, the one thing she wants more than anything is the one thing you are most afraid of losing. 

Take on my knees Stuck with you in your dreams Tell me more, I could die Take on like a beast Fire to the low, lower, low, ah, yeah Don't run away, run away, yeah Come to the low, lower, low Drown in you All the way, all the way, yeah

🎵 visit the playlist

😬😬😬 how are we feeling???

as always, please don’t be a silent reader! feedback & reblogs do so much to help content creators! and likes are also appreciated.

a hoseok pov scene takes place between this chapter and the last one, where we follow him through a typical day. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

a taehyung pov scene takes place during this chapter, where he cleans up some wounds and breaks a man down for information. you can access his pov here (or learn parts of it in later chapters from the reader’s perspective!)

tag list: tag list: @afangirllikeme-blog @angel-121 @artgukk​ @btsiguess-kpop @bts-ficreviews @che-er-ful @codeinebelle @dasexydevitt13 @giriiboyy @illnevertrustmyselfagain @jalexad @kissme-ornot @leanimal90 @likeshatteredrainbowglass @m1sss1mp​ @mayeolorie @mgthecat @mwitsmejk @openup-yourmind @pamzn @sleepilysworld @stocking221 @spookyminyunki​ @thirstyforjoon @valhallawhispers 🗡️if you are not tagged, check your settings! comment or dm to be added!

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[princesstarfire1234]

Scavengers playlist

Made this way back and have just been adding stuff as I listen to em but thought I'd share it here because why not, possibly maybe even get song recs from some of you guys ahaaa

Random thoughts and stuff about which songs are for who or why I put em there below the cut ⬇️⬇️⬇️

Alone Together by Fallout Boy - saw someone on tumblr say this song was "literally the Scavengers anthem" and they're so fucking real for that; "I don't know where you're going but do you got room for one more troubled soul" is literally them.... mann... Also that Fallout Boy album just bangs hard in general

Dare to Be Stupid by "Weird Al" Yankovic - they DO dare to be fuckin stuuuuupiiddd, i love these idiots

Dare by Stan Bush - This and Dare to be Stupid were both in the Transformers '86 movie so that's how I thought about em, aside that though I was listening to em once and just went "oh damn this is kinda them i think"

Bang Bang by K'NAAN - Shoot Shoot Bang Bang core, so much in fact that I've been wanting and still want to do a Scavs animation with this song

21 Guns by Green Day - its a lot more heavy in tone and serious compared to most of the stuff in the playlist, but I put it here cuz it sort of feels like an anthem for just the general rank and file of either faction?? like idk if that makes sense, it just kinda fit the post-war "what are we gonna do now if there's no more fighting" kinda vibe

NOT ENTIRELY ALONE by The Narcissist Cookbook - found this through someone else's Scavs playlist and while it's not a song I'd regularly listen to (it's more of a grand monologue really), I really like it and it's literally about a bunch of supposed outcasts finding each other and sticking together amidst it all

For some character centric ones I've got:

Me and The Boys by the Living Tombstone - Krok!! This one's from In Sound Mind, beautiful fuckin game, it's a lot about therapy and mental health and stuff so damn that's fitting; not only that though, but this specific soundtrack is for a character in that game that's a veteran who experienced a lot of trauma and lost all his friends in the time of the war... so yeahhh

Make A Move by Icon For Hire - love rock, it makes up most of my playlists but maybe you couldn't tell from this; anyways I just feel like it encapsulated Spinister well in vibe and it sort of being like Spin waiting for others to make a move and choosing to just blend in the background or take a back seat from what's usually happening idk how else to explain it really ahaha

need to go real quick since im typing this late so im gonna speedrun the rest lol

Cheer Up by Big Reel Fish - It's literally Crankcase, thats literally HIS song, just take a listen to it!

Bubbly by Good Kid - something about the chorus ("I never sleep, I never eat; I never leave my house alone; another evening in between what I believe and what I know") is just very Fulcrum to me, combined with the vibes

United States of Whatever & Talk Too Much - both very Misfire core to me, Talk Too Much is obvious from the title lol even if the song is about something else entirely aha and United States of Whatever is just... sillyy in a Misfire-y way yknow?

For the rest I didn't mention specifically, they're all just kinda there for vibes and I had no specific thoughts about em lolz

[imsparky2002]

We All Dye - A Teen Titans (Girls) AU

Band: We All Dye

Founded: October 30, 1999

Location: Jump City, California

Fun Facts

The band is called We All Dye because at the time, everyone had dyed hair.

While they officially formed the band in 1999, they had been practicing together for about a year before the official founding. Their first concert was on Halloween.

Rachel Roth (Raven)

Born: May 1, 1986

Favorite Acts: The Cure, Korn, Siouxsie and the Banshees, Radiohead, Joy Division

Instruments: Lead Vocals

About: On stage, Rachel Roth is a gothic force of nature. She loses herself in the music, putting all her emotions on display and excelling in flair and passion. When she's offstage, Roth is the complete opposite. In real life, she's a reserved and mild-mannered kid who uses sarcasm and bluntness on a regular basis. Rachel's look on life had been jaded even before her mother's death from cancer, an which caused her to create the band as a way of finally releasing her emotions and hurt in a creative manner. She found that in making the band, she had found lifelong friends who would be there for her every step of the way. She tries her best to do the same for them.

Kori Anderson (Starfire)

Born: May 21, 1986

Favorite Acts: Bjork, Britney Spears, The Beach Boys, David Bowie, Rush, Sum 41

Instruments: Lead Guitar

About: An immigrant from Canada, Kori is without a doubt one of the nicest people you will ever meet. Though she's unapolagetically peppy, she's got a love for rock. She is trusting to a fault, which her older sister Kristen (Blackfire) would take advantage of. It was only after her bandmates showed Kori that she was being mistreated, did she finally begin to stand up for herself. Now she feels that she's finally gained true sisters.

Karen Beecher (Bumblebee)

Born: March 19, 1986

Favorite Acts: Jamiroquai, Green Day, Gloria Gaynor, Prince, Erykah Badu, Lauryn Hill

Instruments: Rhythm Guitar, Backing Vocals

About: The mom of the group, Karen works alongside Kori to be the peacekeeper. She makes sure everybody's packed and ready to go for concerts. Karen's certainly busy as a bee, which just so happens to be her favorite animal. She's also a proud nerd, hoping to work in tech if the band somehow fails to work out.

Tara Markov (Terra)

Born: February 21, 1986

Favorite Acts: Nirvana, Pearl Jam, Joan Jett, Soundgarden, Fiona Apple, Avril Lavigne

Instruments: Bass

About: Tara is a girl who is not afraid to get her hands dirty or speak her mind. This came from being bullied in childhood as a poverty-ridden kid needing to fight for everything she had. She chose to play bass as she felt it fit her "no-theatrics" attitude. Tara also is the most likely to argue either for herself or for other members of the band if she feels anyone is being disrespected.

Alina Hao (Jinx)

Born: August 8, 1986

Favorite Acts: Hex Girls (She won't apologize), Queen, Shonen Knife, Misfits, Stevie Nicks

Instruments: Keyboards, Backing Vocals

About: Alina is as wry, passionate and mischievous as they come. When Rachel was creating her on-stage persona, she mostly drew inspiration from Alina's theatricality. Funnily enough, Alina and Rachel had been rivals in elementary school, due to frequent bouts for spots in school plays. It was only after puberty and tragedy in Rachel's life did the two realize how silly their rivalry truly was, and Alina was invited into the friend group. Now she feels it's her job to back up her friends, and occasionally drive them nuts with pranks.

Rose Wilson (Ravager)

Born: February 21, 1986

Favorite Acts: Nine Inch Nails, Metallica, Alanis Morissette, Guns 'n Roses, Rage Against the Machine, Le Tigre

Instruments: Drums

About: If you want to keep Rose happy, don't tell her what to do without a good reason. She has problems with authority due to issues with her parents and being seen as a disappointment by most of her teachers. Having two younger brothers (with an older brother, Grant, who's serving in the Army) to protect from their mom and dad means she looks out for other kids going through a hard time. It's also caused her to become jaded, using snarkiness as a way to cope with the feelings of hurt and anger that have built up inside her. While she sees all her bandmates as sisters, she particularly bonds with Tara as a fellow victim of parental abuse, even if they bicker a lot.

So that's the band so far. Credit to Artzy for the name choice! Lemme know headcanons, and thoughts in the replies and reblogs. @artzychic27 @nerd-chocolate @msweebyness

[ladykailitha]

We Love Steve Part 3

Holy shit. Since putting up this story I have gotten 21 new followers and only two were porn blogs. I woke up this morning to 7 new followers and 86 new notes. It really means a lot to me. So thank you. Thank you soo much. Here we go, the last part. Part 1 Part 2

*

“Halloween?” Max asked, incredulous. “No way.”

Dustin shook his head. “I guess it makes sense. I always assumed him being down was because of the Upside Down ruining the day for a lot of us. Kinda hard to want spooky when you’ve been fucking terrified.”

Everyone nodded.

“Halloween is on a Saturday this year,” Mike said. “So it’s perfect.”

“With it being Halloween how hard do we want to lean into the theme?” Erica asked.

“I say we go hard,” Jeff suggested and everyone turned to look at him in shock. He shrugged. “If your parents wouldn’t celebrate your birthday because it’s ‘inappropriate’ then if that were me I’d lean into as hard as I could. Costumes, punch, spooky decorations, themed food, the whole kit and caboodle.”

Eddie nodded. “And if he wants to lean hard in the opposite direction next year, we can do it that way.” He clapped his hands together. “Let’s get started on planning the biggest birthday bash Steve Harrington has ever seen.”

And suddenly they were talking over top of each other.

Eddie sat back and grinned.

*

Steve knocked on the door and was surprised when Mrs Wheeler opened the door. “Hey, I’m just here to pick up Dustin and Mike.”

“I think they’re still wrapping up,” she said kindly. “Eddie told me to tell you to go on downstairs to wait.”

“I can wait in the car,” he said, thumbing at the beemer behind him.

“Eddie said you’d say that,” she said with a smile. “He said and I quote ‘if he puts up any resistance to you use force if necessary’. Do I have to use force, Steve?”

Steve blushed and shook his head. “No, Mrs Wheeler.”

The stairs that led to the basement were covered in black and red crape paper streamers and Steve had to push them out of the way to walk down the steps.

There was spooky sounds coming from a boombox nearby, presumably for whatever Halloween related campaign stuff Eddie had planned for them tonight.

But the lights shouldn’t still be off if they were wrapping up.

And then the lights came on and he was being shouted at. It took him a moment to realize that they were saying Happy Birthday.

And everyone there. Joyce and Hopper, Claudia Henderson, all his friends, his kids, and Eddie beaming up at him from the corner.

He didn’t even heard Mrs Wheeler come down behind him.

“Happy birthday Steve,” she said patting his shoulder.

He could only nod.

Eddie took pity on him and took his hand to lead him to Eddie’s usual chair. The throne. He pushed Steve onto it and set and black and red skull crown on his head.

“For the birthday boy,” he said and Steve laughed.

“Finally a King Steve everyone can like,” Mike said from the back.

Steve blushed.

Everyone was dressed in costumes and had presents in their hands. All for him.

“But I’m not dressed up,” he murmured to Eddie who was dressed as a dark-haired Goblin King from Labyrinth.

“Don’t worry I have just the thing,” Eddie whispered back. He handed him a bag. “It’s my present to you.”

Steve opened the bag and inside was a bomber jacket with a white scarf and aviator sunglasses.

“Maverick from Top Gun?” he guessed, wide-eyed. Eddie nodded. He leaped up and kissed Eddie firmly on the mouth.

Everyone cheered.

Eddie shoved his hair in his mouth like he always does and instantly regretted it, with all the hair spray Nancy had put in it to make it stay.

Steve put on the things Eddie gave him and Argyle immediately put a slice of pizza in his hand. And Robin gave him a drink. It was green and bubbling and it had what looked like a floating eyeball in it.

“It’s just a hard candy painted to look like an eyeball,” she whispered.

Steve laughed and downed it with one gulp. It was good.

He chomped on the pizza knowing that if Argyle made it was going to be good and it was.

He just was having so much fun. He couldn’t remember the last time he got to be himself and let go.

He could count on everyone else to look out for him for a change. And he knew exactly who to thank for all of this.

So about halfway through the night, Steve sidled up to his boyfriend and whispered, “Thank you, baby.”

Eddie blushed. “I just wanted to show you that these people love you, Stevie. I brought it to Hellfire and suddenly everyone wanted to be involved. You’ve done so much for everyone here, they just wanted to give back.”

“So why the surprise party?” Steve asked.

Eddie took his face in his hands. “Because you would have tried to help and it would have hurt you if we told no. Because for some messed up reason I can’t fathom, you think you have to be useful to be loved. But look around you, sweetheart, they did all this for you.”

Steve nodded, grateful for the sunglasses so no one would see his teary eyes.

The cake was amazing and the presents were heartfelt and as everyone slowly trickled out to go home, they all stopped by to tell Steve how much they cared, how he meant to them, how much they loved him.

When everyone was gone and even the Wheelers had gone to bed, Steve was standing in the driveway leaning against the driver’s side of his car, his fists full of Eddie’s jacket, keeping his boyfriend flush against him.

“You are amazing,” he murmured, brushing his nose along Eddie’s.

“No, darlin’,” Eddie said after kissing him senseless, “you are. That was the entire point of tonight.”

“I’ve never had a fan club before,” Steve giggled.

“Well you do now,” Eddie teased back. “The ‘We Love Steve’ fan club and I’m its president.”

Steve smiled. “Good. Because there is no one better for the job.”

Eddie just smiled. Because yeah, it might be a joke, but the truth was, everyone loved Steve because he loved first, loved hardest, and loved longest.

And that was one hell of a thing. Even more so for the boy who thought he was a freak and an outcast. That no one outside of his uncle could love.

“I love you, sweetheart.”

“I love you too, baby.”

Tagging as requested @thequeenrainacorn @darkwitchoferie @bejeweledbaby

Part 1 Part 2

[bestmusicalworldcup]

2024 Best Musical World Cup Qualifiers Official List A-K

This section of the Official List features musicals between letters A-K that have NOT automatically qualified.

Here is the list of musicals that have automatically qualified.

Here is the list for letters L-Z.

& Juliet 9 to 5 13: The Musical 21 Chump Street 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee 35MM: A Musical Exhibition 42nd Street 1776 1789: Les Amants de la Bastille Ablaze The Act Adamandi The Addams Family Aida Ain't Misbehavin Alice By Heart Allegiance American Idiot An American in Paris American Psycho Amélie Anastasia Anne & Gilbert Annie Annie Get Your Gun Anyone Can Whistle Anything Goes Applause The Art of Pleasing Princes Assassins Av. Larco Avenue Q Back to the Future the Musical The Band's Visit Bandstand Bare: A Pop Opera Bat Boy Beauty and the Beast Bedknobs and Broomsticks Beetlejuice Be More Chill The Best Little Whorehouse in Texas Big Fish Big River Billy Elliot the Musical Black Friday Blood Brothers Bloody Bloody Andrew Jackson Bonnie and Clyde The Book of Mormon Bran Nue Dae Bridges of Madison County Bright Star Bring It On Bugsy Malone Bye Bye Birdie La Cage aux Folles Calendar Girls Calvin Berger Camelot Caroline, or Change Carousel Carrie Catch Me if You Can Charlie and the Chocolate Factory Chess Chitty Chitty Bang Bang A Chorus Line Cinderella (Rodgers and Hammerstein) City of Angels Clown Bible The Color Purple Contact The Count of Monte Cristo Crazy for You Curtains Damn Yankees De 3 Biggetjes Dear Evan Hansen Death Note: The Musical Death Takes a Holiday The Devil Devotion of Suspect X Dogfight The Dolls of New Albion Don Juan Dorian Gray Dracula, the Musical Dreamgirls The Drowsy Chaperone Elisabeth Émilie Jolie Everybody’s Talking About Jamie Evil Dead: The Musical Evita FANGIRLS The Fantasticks Finding Neverland Fiorello! Firebringer The Fisherman’s Daughters Fly by Night Follies Fosse Frankenstein (Wang Yong Beom + Brandon Lee) Frankenstein: A New Musical The Frogs Frozen Funny Girl A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to the Forum A Gentleman's Guide to Love and Murder Godspell Grease Groundhog Day Guys and Dolls The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals Hair Hallelujah, Baby! Hans Christian Andersen Harmony Heathers Hedwig and the Angry Inch Hello, Dolly! Holy Musical B@man! How to Dance in Ohio How to Succeed in Business Without Really Trying Hoy no me puedo levantar In the Green In Transit Jack the Ripper Jagged Little Pill Jane Eyre Jekyll and Hyde Jerome Robbins' Broadway Jersey Boys Jesus Christ Superstar Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat Kimberly Akimbo King's Table The King and I Kinky Boots Kismet Kiss Me, Kate Kiss of the Spider Woman

[hatsukeii]

GUYS GREEN DAY TOURING AUS FINALLY IF I DON'T GET TICKETS YOU WILL NEVER SEE ME POST HERE AGAIN </3 I'LL LITERALLY DIE </3 (no i won't but i need to see them live so badly)

also sad they don't really play 21 guns anymore but dookie and american idiot are gonna be so fucking good live im so excited