#also since I’m here talking to myself I might as well muse about the blame comic I want to do that in retrospect. will be pretty long | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cinnaminsvga · 5 years ago

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Dumbo | Jungkook (M)

→ summary: you know what they say about boys with big noses...

{or alternatively: jungkook has a big dick but he doesn’t know how to use it, but luckily you’re there to help.}

→ genre: humor/crack, smut → warnings: they talk about dicks a lot (i.e. jungkook has a big dick), DICK MEASURING CONTESTS (aka jk gets his dick appraised... just boys bein’ boys), explicit sexual content, semi-public exhibitionism, handjobs, blowjobs, sub!jungkook, whining, light dirty talk, mild pain play, mutual masturbation, jungkook has piercings, accidental edging (you’ll... understand), oc doesn’t have a gag reflex lol → words: 17.2K → a/n: @jincherie... you are my enabler and i will die on this hill only if you die on it with me. but of course i know you will die with me. because we only have one braincell and if either of us die, we both do. thank you for commissioning me to write this btw... even though i was already writing this so you just basically sent me money for free. ANYWAY... WORLD IS FUCK BUT I LOVE RHA!! ALSO JUNGKOOK HAS A BIG DICK!! EPIC!!

The club lights make it difficult for Jungkook to see anything. He doesn’t understand why club owners can’t just jack up the lighting for once; it isn’t like you’re going to be able to find a hook-up through echolocation or something. Though, judging by the way people seem to be groping their way through the masses, perhaps there really is no need for illumination anyway.

Jungkook normally hates this kind of scene. Drinking is all good and fun, especially when he’s with his hyungs, but going to overly crowded places makes his skin crawl with anxiety. It takes almost three shots during pre-game for him to get anywhere near this kind of place and it’s all thanks to Seokjin. That hyung thrives in these kinds of environments, like a clipped butterfly relearning how to fly.

“I’m gonna get shit fucked wasted!” Seokjin hollers, his arm looped carelessly around the only other person who hates being here as much as Jungkook does. He watches passively as Yoongi tries to bite a chunk off of Seokjin’s hand, but despite his inebriation, their eldest hyung is able to dodge it quickly.

“Not before I kill you, then everyone else in this place, and then myself, first.” Yoongi growls, nudging Seokjin off his smaller frame. If the world hadn’t been swaying underneath Jungkook’s feet, he might have offered to help his small hyung do the deed. If there’s anyone who hates nightclubs more than Jungkook, it’s Yoongi. Jungkook is frightened to know how Seokjin managed to convince Yoongi in the first place, and he’d prefer not to find out what sort of terrible blackmail the elder must have under his sleeve to accomplish such an arduous feat.

Just as Yoongi is about to connect his steel-toed boot up Seokjin’s freshly bleached asshole, Jimin returns from the bar with three glasses held precariously in each of his fists. Jungkook wonders yet again how this is possible due to the sheer tininess of Jimin’s hands, but then again... What can’t Jimin do when it comes to alcohol?

“I’m back! Here you go, Jungkookie,” Jimin says, seamlessly handing Jungkook a glass of what he hopes is just a regular beer like he asked. Knowing Jimin, he probably ordered the strongest shit they have. He peers at it suspiciously, but it only takes half a sip for Jungkook to confirm his guess. He grimaces, nearly coughing out a lung at the strength of the poison running down his throat.

“That tasted like fucking metal polish! What the fuck, Jimin?”

“I know! It’s great isn’t it?” Jimin smiles angelically, handing Yoongi one of the drinks. Yoongi looks at the swirling piss-yellow liquid as if it holds the secrets to the universe. It appears as if he’s decided something when his eyes light up.

“Oh my god, this drink is gonna kill me,” he says, not an ounce of fear in his voice. Jimin nods, not even trying to hide his deception.

“I promised the bartender a blowie if he could give me the strongest shit they had,” Jimin shrugs. “Dude literally went to the back room and took out this bottle that looked like it came from Napoleon’s secret stash of hooker piss.” He sniffs the drinks thoughtfully. “Yea, I could believe that.”

“I hate this!” Jungkook cries at no one in particular.

“Tough shit! We’re in this together!” Yoongi groans, downing the entire contents of his drink in one go before promptly being swallowed whole by the crowd. Seokjin hoots, hastily waving goodbye to Jungkook and Jimin before following Yoongi and diving into the sweaty masses like a seasoned Olympian.

“I hope they don’t die like last time,” Jungkook sighs, forcing himself to take a big gulp of his drink. It sears against his throat like a brand, which probably has an inscription saying “Jeon Jungkook has bad taste in friends.”

Jimin shrugs his shoulders. “Well, like Namjoon said a while ago, we’re gonna meet by the bar in 2 hours to check if everyone is still alive and we’ll find out then. Okay, Kook?”

Jimin has reminded him of this for the umpteenth time, though he can’t blame him for being extra careful. Last time the whole gang went to the club, Hoseok had gotten stuck in an elevator at his hook-up’s place and had cried for 5 hours straight before one of them thought to look for him. The time before that, Taehyung had ingested two times his bodyweight of margaritas and he had found himself in Japan the next morning with an extra $500 in his pocket.

Yeah. They’re idiots, but at least they’re idiots who will try not to make the same mistakes as last time. Key word being “try.”

Jungkook looks around the club, but he can’t find any awkward looking lanky people anywhere. “Where is Namjoon-hyung, by the way? Haven’t seen him since we split up.”

“Who the hell knows?” Jimin laughs, the sound drowning out when the DJ suddenly decides to play a death metal version of Dance the Night Away by Twice. Jimin’s eyes light up. “Ooooh shit! This is my song! See ya later, Kook!”

“W-wait, those drinks! Aren’t they for the others––“

“Bitch, you think these are for them?” Jimin begins to double fist his alcohol with the thirstiness of a man in a desert, or a twink confronted with two dicks. Either or.

To Jungkook’s horror, the crowd has seemingly grown thrice in size since they’ve arrived and he watches as Jimin’s body is slowly getting consumed by the masses, though he doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest. He leans into a random guy's back, a look of bliss on his face. He salutes lazily at Jungkook. “Anyway. See you in 2 hours, Kook! Try to have fun!”

Try to have fun, his ass.

Unlike Jimin, Jungkook doesn’t particularly feel like being crushed by sweaty hormonal bodies; instead, he chooses to head to the bar. He surreptitiously dumps his drink into the trash, feeling kind of bad for discarding a free drink, but Jungkook doesn’t want to get shit-fucked wasted like the rest of them are. Perhaps he’ll be the designated driver today, even though his vision is still kind of swimming. Well, he could probably walk in a straight line if he used all his brainpower. Which isn’t a lot, but you know. People learn to make do.

It takes him a while to find an empty stool by the bar and he is unlucky enough to be squished between two couples who don’t seem to be aware that public indecency is a crime. He has to endure being jostled for five minutes straight until the bartender finally notices him and allow him to order his can of coke.

(“Sorry, kid. The banana milk is all sold out. Some girl ordered our entire stock for her friends a few hours ago.” And just like that, Jungkook wants to die all over again.)

He does not know for how long he sits by the bar. Well, that’s a blatant lie, because he knows that he’s been sitting there for 18 minutes and 34 seconds exactly. He’s checked his phone religiously every 2 minutes to see if 2 hours have passed already, just so he can ask one of his stupid friends to go home with him. Perhaps he could coerce Jimin into turning in early for once (which is a pipedream, not when the DJ seems adamant to play Jimin’s favorite Christina Aguilera song 70 times in a row.)

So in short, Jungkook is miserable. He could go home by himself, but also he doesn’t want to end up having to walk to the police station the next morning to bail his friends out after one of them inevitably destroys public property again.

Fuck. Maybe he shouldn’t have thrown away his other drink.

He’s so deep in his thoughts that he doesn’t notice that one of the couples beside him have already left and that another person has taken their spot. He is jarred from his musings when a well-manicured hand is placed delicately on his shoulder, urging him to swivel the barstool around to face his soon-to-be acquaintance.

“Hey,” you say, a sultry smile on your lips. Jungkook feels his mouth immediately fill with cotton as he stares at your beautiful face, the dingy lighting of the club doing nothing to suppress the wicked glint in your eyes.

“Uhh… hey?” Jungkook replies, as charming and verbose as ever. If it isn’t obvious enough, Jungkook is a little lacking in the girls department, or at least, when it comes to girls-who-are-blatantly-flirting with him department. He normally isn’t this socially inept around the opposite gender, but given the connotations of this circumstance, his overactive male brain can only be restrained so much before it starts wandering towards dangerous territory.

It doesn’t help that the neckline of your dress is bordering on obscene, and Jungkook is afraid that if you move one more inch towards him, something very embarrassing might happen to the both of you (probably more so for him, if he’s being quite honest.)

“I couldn’t help but notice you from across the club and thought I should introduce myself,” you explain, gaze unashamedly trailing down his body. Jungkook can feel the heat from you radiating in waves, burning him from the inside out as he tries not to melt into a puddle in a pathetic attempt to get the fuck out of there.

“You saw me? But it’s… so dark in here…” Jungkook wants to fucking murder himself. That’s what he decides to say to you? God, no fucking wonder he’s a virgin. Good looks really aren’t everything when he doesn’t have a brain controlling the rest of his body. There might as well be a fucking hamster running laps inside of his skull for all he knew.

Thankfully (or unthankfully––God knows Jungkook’s stress levels aren’t lowering any time soon), you find his response funny enough to warrant a chuckle. You bat your eyes salaciously at him, which Jungkook didn’t even think was possible. People can be sexy? When they blink? Apparently, you can do that.

You shrug your shoulders. “That’s true. You caught me in a lie, I suppose. I actually knew you were coming even before you arrived.”

Jungkook chokes on his own spit then, nearly spraying you with his saliva like the dog that he is. His eyes bug out of his sockets, his body going tense with nerves. "You... you knew? What... What does that even mean?"

You point over your shoulder, gesturing vaguely at the crowd on the dance floor. "I'm friends with Seokjin over there. He mentioned you were coming with him to the club tonight so I decided to tag along."

"You know Seokjin-hyung?" The alarm bells in Jungkook's head start ringing wildly out of control. Nothing good ever comes out of being friends with Seokjin, especially since his presence alone has the power to make the creases in your brain to smoothen. Take it from someone who's been there, done that.

"Yep," you say, popping your 'p.' "I met him in my first-year English course, though I still don't know why a third-year like him was taking it in the first place."

"It's because he doesn't know how to read," Jungkook says plainly.

"I can tell. He uses voice-to-text exclusively and Siri can never spell Asian names correctly," you shrug your shoulders. "Either that, or he just doesn't know how to spell your name."

"Yea. I'm permanently John Jung Cock on his phone," Jungkook replies. He shakes his head. "Hold on, we were talking about something before this."

"Oh. About how I casually revealed to you that I was stalking you through our mutually insane friend?"

"Y-Yea, basically." Jungkook doesn't even understand what the fuck is happening right now. "I mean! Not exactly? Like, for all I know, you could've just asked hyung who he was coming with and he mentioned my name and––"

"Listen, kid. I straight up just told you I'm stalking you. Let's skip the foreplay and get to the meat of it: I'm literally following you," you say, without an inch of regret, embarrassment, or morality in your tone of voice.

Jungkook, who despite being filled with so much fear and tension enough to kill the small hamster inside his brain, is somehow able to keep his calm in front of the psychopath in front of him. Either that, or he's already in the middle of a stroke and he's lost all his fine motor skills.

"I... I don't know what to say."

"You don't need to say anything, baby," you murmur, leaning even closer to him until your chest was practically pressed against his. The thin layer of your dress and his well-worn cotton tee does nothing to help the situation (both in general and the one in his pants). He can feel your every curve, can smell the sweet perfume you're wearing; you were enveloping his senses. If he tried hard enough, he could probably count your eyelashes if he so desired with how close you were.

He knows he should probably be running away in terror right now, but he finds himself stuck resolutely to the barstool, unable to move. Maybe Jimin was right... Maybe he did have a fear kink or something.

("Isn't that just called masochism?" Jungkook asks, brows raised.

Jimin only laughs, patting him on the back condescendingly. "Nah, dude. You just straight up wanna die by the hands of a hot person, and I can respect that homie. We all have been there.")

“W-what do you want from me?” Jungkook asks, sweat lining his brow. You’re still looking at him like he was a meal, but he finds he probably doesn’t mind being devoured by you.

Your wicked grin returns, full force. “I just want to play, Jungkook. But why don’t we discuss this… somewhere more private?”

Thunk. Was that the sound of his heart dropping out of his ass, or his brain pressing against the left side of his skull, or his dick hitting the roof? Jungkook isn’t sure, but he does know he wants to see where this night will take him.

He lets you lead the way, squeezing through sweaty bodies and elbowing a stray hand or two. Jungkook swears he feels a guy grope him on the way out, but before he can even sock the guy in the jaw, you’re already one step ahead of him. You hiss menacingly at the dudebro, raising your long acrylic nails in a show of dominance like you’re from some wildlife documentary. The guy audibly whines, running away from the two of you with his tail between his legs.

Jungkook stares at you incredulously. “How the fuck did you––”

“I’ve gone to tango classes with that dude. I have his mom’s phone number,” you explain nonchalantly. Instantly, Jungkook feels himself hardening in his pants.

You manage to get to where the washroom stalls are. You brazenly walk past the line of girls at the women’s section, but Jungkook is even more confused when you also pass by the men’s section. You turn the corner, where a bunch of tables and chairs were being kept. Then, you begin to knock down some of the extra chairs stacked against the wall, which is where Jungkook discovers there is an unused wheelchair accessible washroom.

“Why is this washroom being kept hidden?” he wonders aloud, sneaking guilty looks over his shoulder. No one seems to have noticed that the two of you are blatantly trespassing property, but you don’t look all that stressed about it.

You look at him weirdly. “Dude. You can barely walk in this club without getting groped, poked, or doped. As much as I’m all for accessibility, I don’t think wheelchair-bound people are gonna have much of a good time here.”

Jungkook feels as though he should be saying something profound about the need for establishments to be accessible or something, but the strain in his pants really wasn’t doing many wonders on his verbosity right now. Maybe next time.

You make quick work of the barricade and you get the door open in no time. You push him hastily inside, making him yelp as he tries to find his way around the darkened room. You flip the switch on somewhere behind him, illuminating the washroom to find… a toilet. That’s it.

“Well, they certainly didn’t think about interior decorating,” Jungkook says, laughing nervously as you click the door locked. He turns, watching as you pull the black elastic that was on your wrist and begin to tie your hair. You smile cheekily at him, the implications of what is about to happen very much apparent.

“Nah, they didn’t. But the room gets the job done and that’s all we want, don’t we?” You purr, taking the two short steps you need to get close to him once more. You trail a well-manicured nail down his chest, circling around his nipple teasingly but not doing anything more. His breathing turns more shallow, and he knows for sure that his eyes must look crazed to you right now.

You bring your finger lower and lower, grazing the top of his belt buckle and staying there. You look up at him, licking your lips as your gaze trails down to his own. Once again, he feels paralyzed as you take him in and he wishes for all the horny gods from above that you would finally end the torture and finally close the distance.

Taking some pity on him, you rest your lips against his throat, suckling gently enough that Jungkook knows it won’t leave a mark. His hands instantly come up to grab your waist, as if urging you to go harder, to make it hurt.

You smirk against his skin, deciding at that moment to bite down, hard. Jungkook yelps, before the sound morphs into an unabashed moan. His cheeks pinken, embarrassed at the volume of his voice.

“I-I…”

“Don’t worry, Jungkook…” you whisper, soothing the bite with your tongue. You pop off his skin, your lips slightly redder than before. “I’ll take good care of you, darling.”

See, Jungkook doesn’t doubt you in the slightest. As for his own skills at taking care of you when the time comes… now that’s a little bit of a gamble.

Jungkook isn’t a virgin, per se… He lost his virginity during his last year of high school to some girl he met at a party, and suffice to say, he didn’t last long. He’s had a few girlfriends in the past, but none of them ever wanted to get with him once they saw his dick. You see, he had a bit of a problem…

He wasn’t small, by the way. Don’t get him wrong. In fact, he was kinda––

Jungkook is pulled away from his thoughts when you suddenly drop down to your knees, your hands grabbing onto his thighs for support. He’s almost worried that you’d injured yourself from how fast you’d dropped, but you don’t seem all that bothered by how deftly your fingers moved to unbuckle his belt.

When you get it loosened, your hands stop by the button of his jeans and you look up at him with expectation. Jungkook almost whines when your hands drift back to your lap.

You snort, amused. “What? You think I’m gonna do all the work here, buddy? Come on, strip for me.” you say, sitting on your haunches as you wait for him to move.

The strain in his pants was getting downright painful at this point, so Jungkook is more than eager to follow your orders. Still, his hands are shaking the entire time, so it takes him a few extra seconds before he can finally unbutton his stupid jeans and pull down his stupid zipper. Even through his loose boxers, the outline of his dick is very apparent, with a small wet spot already staining the front of his boxers a darker blue.

“Uh, I have to say a disclaimer first though,” Jungkook squeaks, suddenly shy under the intense gaze you were pointing straight at his dick. It twitches slightly, and your eyes follow it like a cat ready to pounce. “I’m… kinda on the bigger side, so I just want to ask if you’re sure––”

“Baby, I was sure even before I came to this club,” you say, trance-like. Your fists clench and unclench by your sides. “Now, shut up before I change my mind.”

“But––” Jungkook doesn’t get to finish his sentence, stunned to silence when you quite literally rip his boxers off of him like a magician trying to prove something. His dick springs up half-way, still not fully hard as it’s always taken him a little bit more goading before he can get to full mast. Yea, he was that big.

You stare at it for a moment, going cross-eyed as you stared at his tip head-on like some sort of perverse gun barrel. You don’t move for so long that Jungkook is afraid that he might have freaked you out with the size of his cock, though you wouldn’t be the first in a long shot. He’s about to apologize, prepared to pull up his pants in shame and walk home with half a log in his crotch. He’s already shifting his jeans back up when you place a hand on his wrist, stopping him in his tracks.

“Wait. Are you, like, only half-hard right now?” you ask, voice quiet.

Jungkook flushes. “Y-yeah… It gets a little bit bigger when I’m fully… You know…” he says, trailing off.

You’re still looking at his dick, but after further assessment, Jungkook realizes that you don’t look horrified in the slightest. In fact, you look pleased. “Jesus fuck you’re huge! Like… almost abnormally so.”

Jungkook literally feels like he’s going to die (and he hates that it’s kinda making him even hornier). “I guess so?”

“That’s a fucking log! You could stand on that thing!”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but––”

“Seokjin had told me you were huge, but I didn’t believe him because, well, the way he described it was that you had a literal third leg hiding under there. Who would have thought that Seokjin isn’t full of shit after all,” you say, awestruck.

“I’m really not that big––wait, Seokjin has talked to you about my dick? What the fuck? Since WHEN?” Seokjin was just out there in the world? Telling strangers about his dick? That hyung is seriously getting smashed WWE style the next time he sees him, and it’s NOT going to be sexy.

You wave him off. “Oh, don’t worry. He doesn’t just tell anyone. He let it slip because he was defending your honor,” you shrug.

In the midst of Jungkook’s mental breakdown at the realization that one of his closest friends just told a random girl that he’s got a meter long King Kong dong, he doesn’t notice that you’ve already stood up from where you were kneeling. You pull down the toilet seat cover, seating yourself on it and rubbing your reddened knees with a pout. “Ouch. Damn, I’m not used to kneeling for men anymore. Sorry, where was I? Oh right!”

You snap your fingers together, smiling gleefully at Jungkook. “So! I dragged you in here to give you my proposition, you see. I have a deal to make with you.”

Jungkook looks down at his cock, which was still red and dripping pre-cum, before turning back to you. “And this has something to do with… my dick?”

“Precisely!” you cheer, glad that he seems to be on the same page as you when he was in fact, not. “Sorry about tricking you, by the way. I’ll suck your dick after this if you’re still game, but only if you agree with my plan.”

“Your plan?”

“Yep,” you say, popping your ‘p’ once more. “You see, I have an ex-boyfriend. His name is Lee Taeyong, ever heard of him?”

Jungkook vaguely knows the upperclassman, though he can’t say he’s ever spoken to him. “Kinda. What does he have to do with me?”

“Well, if you really heard of him, then you’d already be one step ahead. Seeing as how it’s not already connecting for you––” you point to his dick, poking the sensitive head with the grace of a 5-year old at a petting zoo, “––then you don’t know that Lee Taeyong has the biggest dick on campus. Allegedly.”

“Allegedly,” Jungkook repeats. He still doesn’t follow.

“Well, I wouldn’t know either because I’ve never seen his dick, so––”

“Wait wait wait. Wait.” Jungkook’s hamster brain is running a mile a minute. There have been way too many absurdities spoken in the last five minutes and he doesn’t think he’s drunk enough to deal with your insanity right now. “Let’s dissect this one at a time, shall we? First of all, how can you not know how big your boyfriend’s dick is?”

“My ex-boyfriend. And we only dated for like three days, and I don’t fuck until a week has passed, okay? I don’t play like that,” you say as if you didn’t just lure Jungkook to this dingy washroom only to give him blue balls and trauma.

“Okay, whatever. So what if he has a big dick? What does that have to do with me?”

You roll your eyes. “How can you not understand yet? I’m on the hunt for our university’s biggest dick, of course! And you, Jungkook, might just be my ticket to the number one prize.”

There is a long pause. Jungkook stares and stares at you, waiting for you to shout “Surprise! You’re being pranked, bro!” and for all the cameramen to come out and shower him in confetti and dollar bills or something. But no, nothing like that happened. He just continues to stand there with his dick out, while you sit on a dingy toilet seat with your legs crossed comfortably as if you were just two friends having a regular conversation.

After a while, Jungkook comes to a conclusion. “You’re being serious.”

You snort, annoyed as if you were the one being inconvenienced. “Of course I am, dude. I don’t stalk just about anybody to see their dick. I’m not that insane.”

Jungkook feels as though your judgment on sanity should probably be taken with a grain of salt. “S-sure. Right. You’re definitely not insane.”

“And you have a big dick! I’m glad you can see where I’m coming from,” you say, nodding sagely. You peer at his dick once more, brows furrowed as you think deeply to yourself. “Hmm… Yea, I’d say you’d be at least equally as big as him. If all else fails, I can split the winnings and get half the amount of money if you––”

“No,” Jungkook says.

You raise your brow. “Yes?” you try.

“Yes–I mean, what? No!” Jungkook repeats, shaking his head furiously. "Are you even hearing yourself? You expect me to get into a dick measuring contest with your ex just so you can, what? Get revenge on him or something?"

"Not for revenge." You lean closer to him, face inches away from his dick but you don't seem perturbed in the slightest. "It's for money," you whisper, grinning slyly.

"Money," Jungkook repeats.

You clap your hands excitedly. "Exactly! So Taeyong and I didn't actually break up on bad terms. We only got together to make Doyoung, his crush, jealous enough to confess his feelings. But now, that dumb bitch thinks that now that he's with Taeyong, he can make fun of me for not being able to handle Taeyong's dark horse cock––"

"Can you please stop talking like an insane person," Jungkook pleads. His comment remains unheard.

"––so we made a bet that Taeyong doesn't actually have the biggest dick on campus and that I'm dating a guy with an even bigger meat thermometer than he does," you finish, snapping your fingers with a flourish. There's a twinkle in your eye: it's misplaced excitement coupled with extreme insanity, Jungkook realizes.

"That's good and all, but there's just one problem."

"What?" You tilt your head, confused.

"We're not exactly dating, are we?"

"Details, details... What Doyoung and Taeyong don't know won't hurt them," you say, shrugging your shoulders.

Jungkook rolls his eyes. "Of course," he says, leaning against the grimy bathroom wall. He goes to tuck Jungkook Jr. back into his pants, his dick finally softening after the last ten minutes of psychological torture courtesy of yours truly, but you're quick to slap his hand away, making him yelp in surprise.

"No! I like looking at it," you say. You stare at his dick with rapt fascination. "It's kinda like looking at a weird, deformed baby leg. Beautiful, but haunting all at once."

Jungkook huffs, staring at you in equal parts disbelief and awe. If he thought Seokjin was mentally unhinged, then you're definitely on your way towards uncharted psychotic territory. It was kind of amazing how you could just say shit without any brain to mouth filter, in your own twisted way. "Listen, lady. I don't even fucking know what your name is, but I am not helping you win some stupid bet and showing my dick to even more strangers than I have to, okay?"

You consider him, lips pursing slightly. "Why, do you have any other plans this weekend?"

Jungkook falters. "I... No, I don't––"

You shrug your shoulders, as if that's the end of that problem. "Then it's settled! I don't see why you can't just do this out of the goodness of your heart?"

"For the last time, I won't do it even if––"

"I'll split the prize with you? 50/50? That's $1000 for having a huge dick! Every incel's wet dream!"

Jungkook pauses in his rant, choking on his spit. His jaw drops comically, unsure if he heard you right. "Did you say one... grand?"

Hook, line, and sinker. You know you caught him the moment his eyes bugged out of their sockets. You smirk, crossing your arms triumphantly as you gaze upon his desperate and broke college ass (and dick). “So? Having second thoughts?"

Jungkook is quiet for a moment. He opens his mouth, then closes it. He tries to wrap his head around the number, unsure if he should be worried about how ready he is to drop his pants for money. Have I completely lost it? Am I that much of an idiot? he wonders, but then again… He’d be an even bigger idiot for letting free money go down the drain.

“Where is this money even coming from?” he asks, even though he knows his guard is already dropping quickly.

You wave your hand flippantly. “Oh, Doyoung is filthy rich. I imagine that $2000 is nothing to him,” you say, picking at a hangnail. “It’s not much money to me either, but my pride is mostly at stake here. If you want, you could take all the money as a prize, so long as you make that bitch eat his heart out.”

Jungkook feels his dick twitch and he knows that you notice. “Two… thousand…” He accidentally moans, gripping his thighs to prevent himself from nutting. “That’s…”

You tilt your head, arching a brow. “Not enough? I could put in an extra $500 if you’re really against this whole thing. To be fair, I wouldn’t wanna expose my coochie to a random person either––”

“Two thousand five hundred? Are you fucking insane?” Jungkook exclaims, voice cracking at the end. He clears his throat, but it still feels like his lungs are on fire.

“Okay, three grand it is but I’m not going any higher than that,” you huff, shaking your head. “Mr. Jeon, you really do drive a hard bargain, though I always notice that well-endowed men tend to think they deserve the universe, so I’m not surprised.” You chuckle to yourself, as if anything about this situation is worth laughing at. Jungkook feels like that one time he had inhaled an entire helium balloon in one breath when he was younger: kinda nauseous but also kinda euphoric. Is it bad that his dick is stirring awake right now? Hello?

You put your hand out, looking at him expectantly. “Well? Do we have a deal or not?”

Jungkook takes a deep breath and accesses his options carefully. Does he:

Give up his low self-esteem for money and enter an actual dick-measuring contest with some stranger;

There is no other option. Jungkook wants money.

He exhales, a migraine already throbbing incessantly in the back of his skull. He thrusts his hand forward, gripping yours harshly in a firm handshake. “I’m in,” he says, without missing a beat. Your smile brings a shiver down his back, and he can’t help but wonder if this is what Judas felt like when he betrayed Jesus, except he’s betraying no one but his own self-worth.

Well, he always did wonder how much his life was worth and three grand doesn’t seem like that big of a stretch. Oh well.

“Nice,” you chuckle, seemingly vibrating from excitement. You slip behind him, grabbing his phone from the back pocket of his jeans (which were still, by the way, pooled around his thighs because his dick was still out. Just to remind you guys in case you forgot. OP doesn’t want you to ever forget about it.) You flick open his phone, cackling maniacally when you realize he doesn’t even have a password on.

Jungkook squawks. “Hey, what are you––”

“I’m saving my number on your phone,” you explain. He can barely see what you were typing into his phone contacts, but he doesn’t miss the way you attach a heart emoji beside your name. You open his texts, sending yourself an octopus emoji that just so happened to be Jungkook’s most frequently used emoji. You snort. “Octopus emoji, huh? Seems appropriate… Can’t help but think it was a sign that this might have been destiny.”

“I just like takoyaki…” Jungkook defends himself sulkily.

“Yea? Well I like cock,” you say. You pause, furrowing your brows. “Oh, I meant to say chicken. Same thing.”

You hand back his phone, grabbing your small purse that you had thrown aside onto the washroom floor. You straighten your dress, looking to all the world as if you hadn’t just offered a stranger three grand to show his dick. “Well, it was nice meeting you, Jungkook. I expect to see you soon, maybe this weekend if you’re free. I’ll text you the details of when we’ll meet next. Toodles!” you wave, sending him a flying kiss for extra measure. Jungkook’s eye twitches, and he wonders not for the first time tonight if he was trapped in a coma and was slowly passing away.

Just as you are about to head out the door, you stop in your tracks, turning back to face him. You give him a curious expression, gaze dragging downwards until you were staring down the barrel of his dick once more. “Hey, sorry about leaving you hanging like that, by the way. I would love to help you finish, but I have a ride to catch. Raincheck?”

Not waiting for an answer, you saunter away with a spring in your step. The door swings back closed, leaving Jungkook alone for the first time in what feels like forever: just him, his dick, and the promise of three thousand dollars on the horizon.

“I’m so fucking stupid,” Jungkook groans, sliding down to the floor. He fists his cock in his hand, groaning loudly when he feels the pleasure jolt up his spine like electricity. As he listens to the sounds of his heavy breathing and the slick mess in his hands, he can’t help but wonder if Jimin was right… Maybe he did have a thing for insane hot girls who were out to kill him.

x x x x x

After Jungkook cleans himself up, he marches out of the washroom with as much dignity as he can muster. Which is to say that he walked out of there with his head bowed in shame, meekly navigating the crowded club in search of his friends.

It isn’t hard, considering that Jimin was currently hanging on the fucking ceiling from a disco ball. A group of men stand at the bottom, all of them eagerly eyeing his fat ass as Jimin dangerously humped the shiny ball of metal like his life depended on it.

“Okaaaay guys! The moment this disco ball drops, whoever catches me first gets to fuck me tonight so try your best to grab me~!” Jimin singsongs from his perch, howling madly as all the horny motherfuckers scramble all over each other, desperate to catch him lest he meets his maker.

“I. Hate. My. Life.” Jungkook sighs, striding past the group of men easily with his superior upper body strength. “Move, incels. This twink isn’t letting any of you simps touch his ass. He just likes the attention.”

“Aww, Jungkookie! Don’t ruin my fun~! Unless you wanna catch me and we can finally fu––” Jimin screams mid-sentence, just as the cord holding him and the disco ball snaps. All the guys step over themselves to catch him, but Jungkook is stronger and faster. He catches Jimin mid-air, snatching him in an instant and hoisting him over his shoulder. Everyone cheers and hollers, clapping for him as Jimin continues to giggle hysterically into his back.

“Yay! Jungkookie is gonna fuck meeeee,” Jimin pats him on the ass, but Jungkook ignores him. He goes around the club, searching for the rest of his friends until he has five dangling bodies hanging off his body like some six-headed freak.

Well, it’s soon going to be five-headed after he beheads Seokjin, whom Jungkook is certain just vomited all over the back of his jeans.

“I can’t fucking find Yoongi-hyung.” Jungkook grits his teeth, his nose assaulted by the stench of Namjoon’s armpit as the elder contorts himself into a more comfortable position. “Stop fucking moving, you long-legged bastard. Why’d you have to be born with such good body proportions?”

“And why are you so hot, Jungkook?” Taehyung swoons from somewhere underneath Hoseok, who seems to be either passed out or dead; Jungkook didn’t pause to check for a pulse.

“Pretty sure Yoongi went home,” Seokjin slurs, a second wave of nausea hitting him as he struggles to keep the alcohol inside of him a bit longer. “Ugh… Said he saw his roommate and they went home together.”

“God, it better be his fucking roommate and not another person trying to sell his organs again.” Jungkook sighs. “Either way, we’re all going home. We’ve done enough damage for tonight.”

“Jungkookie, did you have any fun at all tonight? Didn’t see you around,” Namjoon quips, managing to wriggle out of Jungkook’s grip and fall face flat on the curb. He whines pathetically, not making a move to stand up again. “Ugh. I didn’t even drink a lot tonight so why...?”

“It’s because you’re Namjoon,” Jungkook supplies helpfully. He lets the rest of his friends down, making sure they are leaning against the wall for support (or sitting against the wall in Hoseok’s case). “Alright, I’m calling cabs. Seokjin-hyung, I’m staying over at your place tonight.”

Jimin, who was already slowly falling asleep where he stands, perks up in attention at that. “Wait, you’re coming home with me and Seokjin? Are we reaaaally gonna fuck?” Jimin tries to wiggle his eyebrows suggestively, but to Jungkook, it just looks like he’s having a stroke.

“I’m done nutting for tonight. We are sleeping once we get home and that’s it,” Jungkook snorts, crossing his arms.

“OOOOOOOH? JUNGKOOK GOT FUCKED AT THE CLUB!”

“GET IT BOY!”

“OH SHIT HE FINALLY USED HIS PURPLE-HEADED YOGURT FINGER!”

“DAMN DUDE? DAMN? DAMN?”

“AW, YOU FUCKED SOMEONE WITHOUT ME?”

Jungkook swears he had heard Hoseok speak amidst the yelling from his friends, but his hyung still remains mysteriously hunched over and dead to the world. “None of your businesses. Anyway, a cab is coming soon and I swear to God, if any of you piss or vomit in that poor man’s vehicle, I will make sure none of you live to see the light of day, okay?”

Jimin turns to Taehyung, who just happened to be beside him. “Not gonna lie, but I kinda jizzed in my pants just now. That was kinda hot.” Taehyung only nods in agreement.

An hour and thirty minutes later, Jungkook manages to get the last of his idiot friends home, leaving only him, Seokjin, and Jimin as they tiredly trudge up the steps to the apartment. It takes an additional twenty minutes for Seokjin to figure out where he’d left his keys, only for Jimin to raise his finger for them to wait as he hid behind some bushes while unbuckling his jeans. When he comes out of the bushes, pantless, he has a key raised with a victorious smirk on his face.

“Don’t ask where I keep this,” is all he says and Jungkook is glad that he had rejected Seokjin’s offer to permanently move in as their roommate.

They all stumble into the apartment, with Seokjin falling immediately onto the couch. He curls up into a little ball, snoring the moment his eyes shut. Jungkook wants to shake him awake, eager to interrogate him about what happened between you and him just a few hours ago at the club. Even if he wanted to wake him up, Jungkook is sure nothing can rouse the elder; this fact is confirmed when Jungkook dumps water on him, only for Seokjin to keep sleeping soundly like a baby.

“Well, hyung is dead. Guess it’s time for me to die too,” Jimin says sleepily, the horniness and insanity from the club already wearing off. He pats Jungkook gently on the head, pointing towards Seokjin’s room. “Sleep there. I’ll hand you an extra blanket because I wouldn’t trust that hyung’s sheets. Let’s sleep, yeah?”

Left with no other choice, Jungkook heads to Seokjin’s bedroom, jumping onto the unmade sheets and pretending not to notice the crusty unknown substance on the corner of the bed. He can’t fall asleep, not when he’s left haunted by the weight on his chest (and dick). Jungkook fiddles with his phone, staring wide-eyed at the name displayed tauntingly on his screen.

Y/N L/N.

He was gonna have a nightmare tonight, that’s for sure.

x x x x x

Jungkook wakes up early, much to his chagrin. He’d really like to stay dead to the world for much longer, but the smell of coffee brewing and bacon cooking is kind of a hard deal to pass up. Jungkook shifts in bed, cringing when he realizes he went to sleep in his jeans, and more importantly, that his pants felt a lot stickier than he remembered.

He lifts the blanket up, confirming his suspicions. “Fuck!”

Well, guess he didn’t have much of a nightmare last night after all.

He shucks off his clothes, disgusted by the mess he finds in his underwear. He hobbles over to Seokjin’s closet, cringing when he finds only one (1) clean pair of shorts left, which just so happened to have “PEE IS STORED IN THE BALLS” stamped on the back in cursive font. Beggars can’t be choosers, he supposes.

Jungkook tiptoes out of the bedroom, confronted with the sight of Jimin pouring three mugs of coffee and Seokjin still slumped over the couch, a substantial amount of drool dripping down from the side of his mouth and forming a puddle on the floor. Jungkook takes a photo, saving it for later.

“Morning,” Jimin smiles from the kitchen, offering Jungkook one of the cups. Jungkook is certain that Jimin has no recollection of the events from last night, though such is Park Jimin’s way of life. He drinks to get fucked up, then he forgets, and then the cycle repeats itself anew. Jungkook wonders how Jimin always manages to wake up without a hangover, though God might have just given him a super liver in compensation for his lack of height.

“Hyung is still dead,” Jungkook states plainly, walking over to Seokjin and peering at him closely. Jungkook sticks a finger into his agape mouth, collects some of his spit, and then proceeds to give him the wettest willy of his life. Still no response.

“Let me try,” Jimin says, sauntering over to Seokjin with one of the cups of coffee. Jimin leans down, hums gently into his ear. “Hyung, wake up. We have coffee for you!”

Seokjin mumbles incomprehensibly in his sleep, snuggling deeper into the couch stuffing. Jimin tilts his head, still smiling. Then, he dumps the scalding cup of coffee all over Seokjin’s crotch.

In an instant, Seokjin screams with the pitch of a banshee, swinging his arms wildly about and nearly knocking himself out with his own fist. Jungkook and Jimin watch passively from the sidelines, waiting for the elder to finish fanning his nutsack before greeting him a pleasant morning.

“WHY ARE YOU BOTH LITERAL DEMONS?” Seokjin hollers, jumping to his feet with his scorched balls and all. Taking pity on him, Jungkook walks over to the fridge, tossing his hyung a bag of ice. And by toss, it’s more like he pitches the bag straight into his dick with the ease and speed of a seasoned baseball player, eliciting another round of pained howls.

“YOU––ASS––” Seokjin seethes, clutching the bag of ice to his nether regions. He sits down on the adjacent loveseat, expression contorting as he cups his balls gingerly. “God, it’s almost like you guys don’t think I deserve basic human decency.”

“That was just a small part of my revenge for you, after you gave my contact details to an insane woman,” Jungkook sneers, miming a punch onto Seokjin’s handsome face. Seokjin doesn’t even flinch, too busy staring at Jungkook’s legs.

“Hey, are you wearing my thot shorts?”

Jungkook looks down at the neon pink monstrosity around his hips. “You call these your thot shorts?”

Seokjin shrugs. “I got dicked down in them once. You should try.”

“Oh, did I hear something about revenge? I smell tea in here,” Jimin says, coming back from the kitchen with his own cup. “Well, I have coffee but same shit. What happened?”

“This––” Jungkook points an accusatory finger at Seokjin, “––asshole sent my location information to an insane stalker lady last night after he told her that I had a huge dick!”

Seokjin squints at him, confused. “What are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about Y/N! She said you told her about how big my dick was and when she asked you where I was, you told her I was going to the club with you last night!”

“Oh.” Realization dawns on Seokjin’s face, which was quickly replaced by incredulity as he stares at Jungkook. “I assumed she asked for your contact details because she had a crush on you. I was just trying to get you some pussy, bro.”

“Yeah, Kook. Not gonna lie, but I’d be dicking down girls left and right if I had a dick as big as yours,” Jimin says, eyeing the bulge in his teeny tiny shorts with interest. “In fact, I’d probably be a top if I had a dick as big as yours.”

Seokjin laughs, nearly shooting out phlegm from the strength of it. “Oh god, don’t tell me. You couldn’t get your dick hard again? Don’t worry bro, if I had a dick as big as yours, it’d take ages for it to fill up too.”

Jungkook flushes, stomping his foot in embarrassment. “That! Wasn’t the problem! The problem is––”

“––that Jungkook nuts too quickly because he doesn’t have any practice,” Jimin tuts sadly, patting the younger with a pitiful expression. “Don’t worry, Kook. Hyung is open to giving you some pointers.”

“That’s not it either!” Jungkook screams, groaning in annoyance. “She came up to me because she offered to pay me $3000 to enter a dick-measuring contest!”

Jimin and Seokjin tilt their heads in tandem, still not getting it. “So?” they both chorus, giving him a blank-eyed stare.

“Are you guys out of your mind? I got bribed into showing my dick to some strangers like some kind of weird prostitute!”

“It’s not prostitution if you’re not engaging in sexual activity,” Jimin muses, taking a long sip from his coffee. He shrugs his shoulders. “Honestly, I don’t see how this is a problem. You show some girls your dick, and you get money. Dudes would kill to be in your position.”

“Oh my God, don’t tell me,” Seokjin leers at Jungkook, and the younger almost can’t stop himself from landing another blow against the elder’s abused crotch. “You got roped into some bukkake orgy and now you’re asking your hyungs to help you? Don’t worry, Jungoo… You came to the right people. You see, Jimin and I have some experience with––”

“LALALA I CAN’T HEAR YOU!” Jungkook jams his fingers into his own ears, screaming hysterically to drown out the sounds of Seokjin and Jimin’s combined laughter. Jungkook pouts at them, glowering pathetically. “Seriously, hyungs! Do you not see how fucked up this is? Who follows a stranger to a club, pretends they’re going to give you a blowjob, only to offer 3K for you to show some strangers your dick?”

“A regular Friday night if you ask me,” Jimin says, shrugging once more. Jungkook stares at him, realizing that maybe it was the wrong idea being friends with these two lunatics in the first place. Knowing Jimin, he’d probably been in much more lewd and compromising situations than Jungkook will ever have. Rumor has it that Jimin had once done a keg stand while having his dick sucked while on vacation in Japan.

“Well, if you were really against it, then you could have just said no?” Seokjin points out, wagging a finger at him. “I know Y/N, and yeah she’s kind of demented, but she still knows that no means no. Surely, you haven’t considered the fact that you are 1) a pushover and 2) horny for her?”

“Well, yea––No, what––No!” Jungkook splutters, stammering wildly. His two hyungs grin salaciously, gazing at him knowingly. Jungkook can only groan, as he knows that they kind of have a point. He’s always been too weak for girls and money, so when you put those two things together…

“I might be addicted to the BBC tag on Pornhub, but you my friend… You’re in it for the BBCC,” Jimin snickers, patting Jungkook comfortingly on the back. Jungkook groans into his hands, slumping onto the loveseat beside Seokjin, whose icepack had long since melted and caused the seat to be uncomfortably damp.

“BBCC? I’m almost too afraid to ask.”

“Big black credit card,” Seokjin pipes up, wrapping his own arm around Jungkook’s shoulder. “Don’t worry, bud. We all have been there.”

That’s the problem: somehow, Jungkook finds himself much too ready to accept his fate, eagerly awaiting when you’ll text him next.

x x x x x

After a much-needed shower at Jimin and Seokjin’s place, Jungkook tiredly makes his way to the nearby bus stop, ready to go home and sleep the entire weekend away. Screw his Biochemistry midterm on Monday––if he really is going to whore himself out to you, then he’s going to need all the self-care and therapy that he can get. His phone itches in the pocket of his shorts (yes, he’s still wearing the thot shorts), and he wonders if he should text his therapist and ask for an extra appointment later in the day.

Just as he’s about to pull out his phone, he senses it vibrate once, twice. He freezes in his steps, walking out of the way of busy pedestrians on the sidewalk and into a random clothing store. He sees the lone cashier staring at him from the corner of his eye, but he does not check if her gaze is filled with disgust or disgust. Probably disgust, he surmises.

Flicking his phone on, he sees two new messages from you and his heart immediately starts to hammer in his chest. No one has ever made Jungkook equal parts scared and excited, though he imagines you might have that effect on most people, what with how you look like the type to tie up unsuspecting victims to harvest their organs in your summer cottage up in the mountains or something. Or maybe that’s just Jungkook projecting.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey! sorry for taking so long to text you. my roommate tried to make cheesecake at 3am last night and i had to supervise in case he burned down the apartment.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ anyway, i was wondering if you were free later? some time after 5 maybe? let me know!

You already want to meet so soon. Jungkook exhales heavily through his nostrils, pinching the bridge of his nose in an attempt to calm himself. Alright, this is fine. Jungkook is a big boy: he can handle going to a girl’s home without losing his mind. You didn’t say anything about this being the actual dick-measuring contest yet, so he can only assume this is just you asking for something else. Maybe to talk more? Maybe he’ll get a down payment for the prize money? Maybe you’ll follow through on your raincheck? God, is it wrong for him to have his dick plumping up in his shorts when you haven’t even done anything to him yet?

(On the contrary, you could say that you have done a lot for him over the past twenty four hours, though maybe not in the way most people would expect.)

from: jjk yeah i can meet you at 5. what’s this for?

from: y/n l/n ❣️ oh, nothing! i just wanted to talk to you about the actual competition and stuff. plus, i want to actually measure your dick, just so i can see how much you’re actually packing down there ;)

from: jjk ….yeah, fine. whatever.

(This really isn’t a “whatever” type of situation, but honestly, Jungkook doesn’t really know what to say anymore. He’s officially lost his singular brain wrinkle. He’s smooth brain McGee over here.)

You follow up by sharing your location with him, and he’s surprised to find that you aren’t that far away from where Jungkook was right now. He really did mean to go back to his apartment first and get changed into something more… morally acceptable, but since he hasn’t been arrested yet for public decency, he should be okay with going to your place in Seokjin’s thot shorts.

There’s something invigorating about going to your place, dressed the way he is… Maybe the shorts are somehow giving him brain hemorrhage by indirect association with Seokjin. Either that or Jungkook simply loves torturing himself by embarrassing himself constantly. Well, at least he showered and combed his hair before leaving his hyungs’ place.

He inputs your address into his phone map, taking his sweet time as he walks the short distance to your apartment. As he passes by the buildings and street corners, he can’t help but think that he might have been around this area before. He tries to rack his brain, forcing himself to remember why this route seems so familiar.

“Oh right. Yoongi-hyung’s new apartment should be around here,” he muses to himself. He wonders if his hyung had gotten home safely last night. He should probably text him to make sure, but he’s got a literal dick appointment to attend to first, so he’ll remember to check up on Yoongi once he finishes up with you.

Does that make him a shitty friend? Probably. But would Yoongi do the same if Jungkook was in his shoes? Probably.

Yeah, Jungkook and his group of friends aren’t exactly role models for a sensitive and loving relationship, though that’s not much of a surprise to anyone.

He arrives at a decent looking apartment complex, complete with its own little water fountain at the entrance. He walks through the automatic sliding doors, peers at the shiny caution tape barring him from using the elevator. He stares at your address on his phone, groaning loudly when he sees “1603” much to his annoyance.

“No wonder she had such great thighs,” Jungkook mutters angrily to himself, preparing himself for the long and arduous journey his glutes are going to endure.

Years later, Jungkook finds himself at your door, his lungs jumping out of his throat as he struggles to catch his breath. He hunches over, elbows digging into his thighs as he wipes the sweat trailing down his neck. He can see your door just near the end of the hall, but just as he’s about to crawl his way over––

“Oh. Oh my,” a familiar voice says from behind him, and Jungkook looks over his shoulder to see…

“Yoongi-hyung?” Jungkook exclaims incredulously, mouth gaping at the sight of his thought-to-be-dead hyung coming out of the elevator. He splutters for a few more moments before pointing an accusing finger at Yoongi. “You used the elevator?”

Yoongi raises an eyebrow, turning to look at the elevator with a thoughtful look. “Oh right. The elevator works. The maintenance people just forgot to remove the safety tape from last week.” Yoongi looks back at Jungkook, gaze lowering to his legs. “I see that Seokjin has provided you with his thot shorts.”

Jungkook doesn’t even try to cover himself, used to his friends seeing him in varying degrees of undress. Like, what was Yoongi going to do? Take a photo of him and post it to his Twitter for his thousands of followers to see? He wasn’t that cruel...

Snap! Yoongi pockets his phone quickly, clearing his throat. “So,” Yoongi walks up closer to him, peering at Jungkook curiously. “What brings you to my apartment? Not that I’m happy to see you, but I assumed you and the rest of our idiotic gang would have died of alcohol poisoning the night before.”

“...It’s a long story,” Jungkook says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Say... Where did you go last night, by the way? I tried to look for you, but Seokjin said your roommate brought you home?”

“Yeah. She went to the club with a bunch of her friends. She offered me a ride with her because she knew how much I hated it there,” Yoongi says, frowning. “Fuck you, by the way.”

“What the fuck? What the hell did I do?”

“I don’t know. You’re wearing Seokjin’s shorts and my ape brain told me to retaliate out of instinct,” he explains. He takes another long, good glance at his shorts. “Color me surprised that they fit you, by the way. I’d assume your huge ass would be making it rip the seams, or perhaps your dick would be saying hello.”

Jungkook pats his junk proudly. “I know, right? Big guy decided to cooperate, for some reason.”

“Will you guys stop yapping it up out in the hall? I’m pretty sure Mrs. Sy can hear you two idiots from the first floor,” a voice from behind Jungkook hisses, causing the two boys to jump up in surprise. Lo and behold, your head is peeking out from behind your door, a perfectly stenciled eyebrow arched in annoyance. “Well? Are you two coming in or what?” You return back to your apartment, assuming that they’d soon follow.

Yoongi looks at Jungkook. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Jungkook looks at Yoongi. “Wait. You know Y/N?”

Yoongi squints his eyes. “She’s my roommate. She’s a mutual friend of––”

“––Seokjin,” Jungkook finishes. The two of them pause, a metaphorical light bulb glowing above their heads.

“Ah.”

“I see. The demoness has roped you into some hare-brained scheme, hasn’t she?” Yoongi nods sagely, rubbing his beardless chin. “Can’t say I feel sorry for you since I have to live with the wench.”

Jungkook grimaces. “Man. She’s insane around you too?”

Yoongi shrugs, walking over to your shared apartment. “I’m dating Seokjin, remember? Everyday, I suffer. Everyday, I feel my arm.”

When Jungkook steps into your apartment, he can’t help but be a little surprised. Of course, he shouldn’t have expected to see a medieval torture chamber in the middle of a metropolitan city, but he wouldn’t put it past you to somehow make it happen. Instead, he finds a fairly cozy-looking home, with comfy couches and filled bookshelves, complete with a small balcony that had a few fresh herbs growing in little pots. It looks…

“Yoongi-hyung. You definitely decorated, didn’t you?” Jungkook snorts, fingering the little kitty-patterned throw blanket draped on your couch. It’s soft and expensive, and definitely something only Yoongi would buy. The elder doesn’t even bother looking embarrassed; he just throws Jungkook the middle finger as he walks towards the kitchen.

You come out once more from one of the connecting rooms at the other end of the apartment, presumably your bedroom. You motion for Jungkook to come in. “Yoongi, you’re gonna bake all day, right? Mind if you let Jungkook and I speak alone in my room?”

Yoongi waves his hand disinterestedly. “Whatever. If you guys are gonna be freaky in there, I’m gonna start playing clown music to drown you guys out, alright? And I mean the remix versions with the extra clown honks.”

You roll your eyes. “Yea, yea. We get it. Grandpa needs his special time alone too.”

Jungkook’s heart jumps when you don’t even bother correcting him. Does that mean you guys really were going to do something freaky? Hopefully, Yoongi has learned to differentiate screams of terror from screams of pleasure, though it’s hard to tell if he’d care otherwise.

He follows you into your room and immediately notices the perfectly made bed and the neatly organized desk. Your curtains are drawn close, but the sheerness of it allows the mid-afternoon sun to brighten the room regardless. Your bedroom smells faintly of vanilla and cinnamon, and he notices the small scented candle still smoking from when you’d put it out.

Nothing in the room indicates that he was inside the room of a psychopath, though maybe Namjoon or Taehyung would argue that anyone who makes their bed every day might be a little out of it. Jungkook continues to stand awkwardly by the door, unsure of what to do next except to stare.

You plop onto your bed, giving him an expectant look. “Well? Are you just gonna stand there by the door and have Yoongi see us measure your dick or what?” That gets Jungkook to move. He closes the door, pausing for a second before locking it for good measure. Then, he takes the short two steps that he needs to stand right in front of you.

You crane your neck, appraising him silently as he fidgets from the weirdness of it all. Your gaze trails down and Jungkook is not surprised when you stop to stare at his neon pink shorts. You snort, thumbing the edge of his shorts lightly. Jungkook shivers even though you’re barely touching him and he knows that you notice.

“Trying to get back at me for leaving you with blue balls yesterday?” you muse, letting go of the thin material. Jungkook wants to bring your hand back to his thigh, but he forces himself to keep still.

He looks down. “Not really? But I mean… Is it working?” He can’t help the hopeful lilt in his voice.

You laugh, patting him lightly on the thigh. “No worries, Jungkook. I did promise you a little something last night, right? I admit it was shitty of me to leave you like that, despite what you already might think of me. You probably think I’m just some insane bitch, right?”

Jungkook stares at you. “Do you want me to be honest or...?”

You roll your eyes, but you seem more amused than anything. “Save it. I know I’m weird. But, a promise is a promise…” You trail off, winking at him. “Besides, this works out for the both of us, right? I wanted to measure your dick before we meet up with Taeyong and Doyoung tomorrow, and I can help you blow your rocks right after. Seems like a deal?”

“Is it bad that I’m so ready to have you suck me off that I’m honest to God accepting your offer without any sense of dignity?”

You consider him for a moment. Then, “Nah. I know dudes who would do worse things for three grand and to have their dick sucked. I’d say you’re just doing you.” You place your hands back on his hips, thumbing around the garter of his shorts.

Jungkook groans, not even flinching when you rip his shorts and boxers off in one rough flourish. His soft dick dangles heavily between his thighs. “See, I’m not entirely comforted knowing that you agree with my moral dilemma.”

You clap your hands together, excitement glittering in your expression. “Who cares! Let’s get you all hard and ready, shall we?”

Jungkook squirms under your gaze, getting dick stage fright. “H-hey… This isn’t like porn… I can’t just get hard when I want to, you know? I need… stimulation or some shit.”

You nod, humming thoughtfully. “You’re right… And I remember you said something about taking a long time to get fully hard, right? That’s gonna be a problem indeed.” You lean forward, “So. Tell me, Jungkook. What are your kinks?”

If Jungkook was drinking water, he’s sure he’d be doing a spit take right now. Instead, he just chokes on his own saliva, coughing out his lungs at your sudden inquiry. “M-my kinks? What for?”

“To get you hard, duh.” You leave featherlight grazes around his thigh, leaving goosebumps in their wake. It stirs something inside Jungkook, but not enough to do anything yet. You tsk, your brow crumpling as you decide what to do next. “What if I…”

You dig your nails into the meat of his thighs and inadvertently pull him closer. He stumbles forward, his breath knocked out of him despite how little you’d done so far. “W-wait,” he wheezes, shock running down his spine. “I––”

You smirk at him, digging harder until you’re sure to leave white little crescents littered around his thigh. “Aha. I guessed you’d be into that. You liked it when I bit you yesterday, didn’t you?”

Jungkook can’t even answer. He’s trying to keep his breathing steady, squeezing his eyelids shut. He hears you shuffling in front of him, and he soon senses your body press closer to him, alerting him that you have stood up. You wrap your arms around his neck, bending his head down until he can feel your breath fan across his lips.

Are you going to kiss him? But the contact doesn’t come; instead, your hands snake up to his hair, massaging his scalp for a moment before tugging on his roots harshly. It pulls a whine from his lips, the response surprising even himself. “S-shit,” he grits his teeth, urging you to do it again. He opens his eyes slightly, sees you watching him with rapt attention.

You lick your lips, looking at him like a meal ready to be eaten. The heat in his stomach builds, but Jungkook doesn’t have it in him to be embarrassed anymore. He doesn’t really have any more room in his brain anymore other than his unabashedly horny thoughts.

“Pain slut, huh? Somehow, it suits you.” You sound breathy, as if you were the one being pleasured instead. It makes Jungkook’s cock twitch a little, coming to life in front of you as you continue to assault his nerves.

“Do you like pain everywhere?” Your hands leave his head, coming down to the edge of his shirt. It’s a silent request, and Jungkook allows you to lift up his sweater, leaving him completely bare before you. You throw it somewhere to your right, eyes raking him up and down. Something about you still being fully clothed makes Jungkook’s inside light on fire, and it rushes blood down south before he can even understand why.

You chuckle, looking at his hardened nipples with interest. “Pierced? What a naughty boy you are.” You flick him there experimentally, and when Jungkook’s breath hitches, that gives you a go sign to do more. You fiddle around with the rosy bud some more, circling it with the pads of your fingers until Jungkook was a whining mess before you. “Sensitive… What a prize you are, Jungkook.”

Jungkook keens at the praise, even though he knows you didn’t really mean it in a good way. He finds himself wanting to please you: to get himself hard for you, to make you want him like how he wants you. He honestly can’t tell if you’re enjoying this as much as him, other than the way you’re watching him closely like a hawk.

He’s nearly half-hard, his cock jutting against your stomach. You peer down, figuring out your next move as he holds his breath, afraid he might do something wrong. Your fingers move once more, tracing shapes across his stomach and causing the muscles there to contract. He anticipates your next movements, his dick steadily throbbing.

“I suppose the easiest way to get you hard is to touch you here, right?” you murmur lowly. You grip him by the hips all of a sudden, your thumbs placed firmly into his Adonis’ belt. You inch closer and closer to where he wants you the most, and you watch him amusedly as he clamps down on his bottom lip, unwilling to sound desperate so early in the game.

(Was it early though? He’s been thinking about this exact scenario since last night, even plaguing his dreams. Still, it wouldn’t look cool if he just… busted a nut just from having his dick out. Even he knew that was kinda sad.)

Despite his best efforts, perhaps the desperation is apparent on his face because you eventually do take pity on him. You wrap your fingers around his length, not moving just yet. You smile secretly to yourself when you hear Jungkook exhale and swallow audibly, but you’re waiting for something. You look up at him, batting your eyelashes innocently as if you didn’t have his dick in your hands.

“What do good boys say when they want something?” You’re fishing, but your teasing tone breaks Jungkook down enough to release a ragged moan. He places his hands on your shoulder, using you for support as you slowly inch your hand down to the base of his cock.

He can’t keep the whine out of his voice when he says, “P...Please. Move?”

Your grin is wicked. “Of course, baby.”

Yeah, if you keep this up, Jungkook is going to come embarrassingly fast and he doesn’t think you’ll be quite pleased with that.

There is pre-cum leaking at the tip of his cock, dangerously close to pooling over and dripping all over your carpet. You are quick to swipe it off with your thumb, dragging it down his shaft for an easier slide. Jungkook’s abs tense, his teeth clamping on his bottom lip so aggressively that he almost splits it open. His grip on your shoulders tighten, but you don’t mind. You keep stroking him languidly, not going fast enough for Jungkook’s liking, but the concentration on your face is enough to make Jungkook release a stilted moan. It doesn’t take long until the wet squelch of your hand jerking him fills the room, coupled with the sound of Jungkook’s labored breathing.

“You’re really wet,” you chuckle, watching with fascination as your words urge another drop of pre-cum to collect at his tip. “Are you always like this?”

“N-not… Really?” It takes a while for Jungkook’s brain to connect, caught between wanting to keep his eyes shut and wanting to stare at your cute hands trying to wrap around his dick. Your fingers can’t even circle the girth of his cock, the realization almost making Jungkook come there and then.

He’d never been one to be overly confident about his penis size, to be honest. He doesn’t really go around proclaiming it to the world, and his meager body count doesn’t help the fact that most people are unaware of the extent of his package. He isn’t itching to tell people either, but he’s starting to see why people would be envious of having a large dick. The sight of you struggling to pump his cock really makes for a pretty picture.

“Ugh, my arm is getting tired,” you complain after a while, getting frustrated when you realize that Jungkook is almost fully hard, but not quite. “Jeez. Your dick is so huge that it really takes a minute for the fuel tank to fill up, huh?”

“I-I’m sorry?” Jungkook wheezes, nearly crying out when you flick your wrist in just the right manner. Your hand pauses by the head of his dick, squeezing tightly enough not to be painful, much to his disappointment. Jungkook is still too shy to ask for more.

You let go of him all of a sudden, causing a guttural whine to escape Jungkook’s lips. Ignoring him, you nudge him back a few steps, Jungkook complying wordlessly. He’s still confused until you reach over to your bed, grabbing one of your pillows before dropping to your knees. Jungkook’s jaw drops, spluttering incomprehensibly as you cushion your knees with the pillow.

You look up, giggling amusedly. “Reminds you of last night, huh? Not gonna lie, I’ve been itching to have your cock in my mouth, though I’m not even sure if any of it can fit. That’s not gonna stop me from trying.”

Oh God. Oh Geez. Jungkook is going to die, isn’t he? He vaguely remembers his dream from the night before, how your pretty pink lips had stretched over his dick, barely going past his head. He whines pathetically, another string of pre-cum finally dripping down and landing on your thighs.

You hold him by his hips, preventing him from moving as your hot breath fans across his wet head. You lick your lips, taking one glance up at him before giving his tip a quick peck. It’s nothing to write home about, but the way Jungkook’s breath catches is enough to encourage you to do more. You suckle his head a little, suctioning your lips and moaning slightly at the bitter tang. Your eyes flutter shut, tongue swirling nondescript patterns as you greedily engrave his taste into your mind.

The image of you enjoying yourself is enough to get Jungkook fully hard. He feels like he’s on fire, from his flushed cheeks all the way to his groin. He doesn’t know where to put his hands, unsure if you’d allow him to pull on your hair.

You must have noticed his plight, because one of your hands leaves his hips to grasp his own, bringing it to your hair. You pop off his dick for a second, lips already redder than before. Jungkook wishes he could kiss you, but he’s still so unsure. “You can pull my hair, but if you push me down further than I’m willing to go, I’m stopping immediately, okay?” Your voice is authoritative and your gaze is steely, but it only prompts Jungkook to moan in reply.

He nods, nearly getting whiplash from how quickly his head bobs. You smirk, appeased by his obedience. You return to your ministrations, rewarding him by going further down and bobbing your head at a snail’s pace.

Jungkook’s sanity is barely hanging onto a thread. He wants to thrust into your wet mouth, never having felt this sort of pleasure in his life. He’s beginning to understand why Jimin is such a slut, and he wonders why on earth he’s been denying himself things like this. His eyes are half-lidded, but he’s determined to watch you as your masterful tongue brings him to the edge of hysteria.

When Jungkook doesn’t think your mouth can go further down, you surprise him once again. You go lower, and Jungkook feels your throat swallow around him until he nearly screams. Drool pools in the inside of his mouth, as if Jungkook’s body doesn’t know what to do with the pleasure. His legs nearly give out, but your hands keep him mounted.

His toes are curling, thighs trembling. “Fuck,” he whines, unable to stop himself when he thrusts a little into your mouth. “Shit, I didn’t mean to–”

You glance up at him. Your eyes are tearing up, but otherwise you look unperturbed. You flatten your tongue on the underside of his dick, tracing the vein there as you slowly come up for air. You swallow the mix of saliva and pre-cum in your mouth, licking your lips like you’ve just had a 5-star meal. You look absolutely debauched, though Jungkook knows he’s probably not doing much better.

“No gag reflex. It’s fine,” you shrug, as if you’d just told him about the weather. Your voice sounds hoarse, roughened by the assault of his dick on your throat. “Are you close?”

Jungkook doesn’t want to admit it, but– “Yes,” he says. He’s breathing like he’s just run a marathon, sweat dripping down his neck. You observe it drip down his body, as it curves down his neck and to his chest.

“You aren’t coming until I say so, got it?” You warn. He nods, cock twitching in desperation for your mouth to continue what it was doing.

But instead, you reach back to your bed, and Jungkook finally notices the tape measure that you’d left there. Oh right. Jungkook is brought back to reality, suddenly remembering why he’d gone here in the first place.

“This will only take a second, baby,” you whisper lowly, and Jungkook’s conscience is shot out of his head once more. Call him baby one more time, and Jungkook is sure to bust his load. He’s worried he might gain a Pavlovian response to the word; getting hard every time someone so much as utters “baby” for whatever reason.

You unravel the measuring tape, placing the end of it near the base of his member. You drag it over his length, whistling in awe as the number keeps growing and growing. “Shit, you really are huge,” you gasp in amazement, peering closely at the measurement to make sure you aren’t reading it wrong. “Nearly nine inches. Are you insane?”

Jungkook chuckles in embarrassment, rubbing the back of his neck. “It’s… nothing?”

You snort, shaking your head at the pure audacity of this boy in front of you. “No need to humblebrag, baby. Unless you want me to degrade you, then stop being coy with me.”

At the word “degrade,” Jungkook’s erection twitches with interest. Of course, you notice. “Oh? You want me to degrade you?”

Jungkook’s face heats up, forever astonished by your brazenness. “N-no! That’s not what I–”

“You want me to call your cock pathetic, huh? Is that what you want?”

Jungkook whines, shifting from foot to foot as he tries to avoid your lustful gaze. “I…”

“Want me to call you names, huh? Took your cock so long to get hard, struggled so much to get it up. What a useless dick that you have…” you trail off, covering your mouth behind your hand to hide your grin.

Jungkook feels like he’s about to fall over. The pressure in between his legs is reaching his breaking point, and Jungkook really doesn’t want to embarrass himself by coming untouched. He has a sinking suspicion you’d enjoy it if he did, however.

Your hand slides back to his crotch, cupping his erection once more. You run your palm along him once, enjoying the way his breath hitches. He’s undeniably close and it fills you with pride knowing that you did this to him. “You’re close.” You say it like a fact.

Jungkook squirms. “Please… Faster… I’m so close, Y/N. Just a lil bit more, please…”

“I love it when you beg,” you laugh, sounding a little mean. “But since you’ve been nice all this time, I’ll let you.”

Your hands speed up, twisting and pulling him in ways that Jungkook isn’t sure are possible. He’s full-on panting like a fucking dog right now, humping shallowly into your hand like he’s lost his mind. He’s so unbelievably close, the heat in his stomach climbing higher and higher until––

“SHIT! Y/N!”

You stop, confused. That shout didn’t sound like Jungkook. You turn to your closed door, ears straining for the sound again. “Yoongi?” you call out. “Did you say something?”

Muffled footsteps come rushing closer. Your doorknob jiggles, but Jungkook had thankfully locked it when he’d come into the room earlier. Yoongi huffs from behind the door, banging loudly on the frame. “Y/N! Help! I fucking dropped the cheesecake!”

“He dropped the cheesecake,” you repeat dully to yourself. You share a look with Jungkook. The banging doesn’t stop.

“Y/N PLEASEEE THE KITCHEN IS A MESS!” Yoongi screams, uncaring of whatever he was interrupting. “YOU OWE ME! I PAID FOR YOUR RENT LAST MONTH SO YOU GOTTA HELP!”

“I hate that bastard,” you sigh, defeated. You let go of Jungkook reluctantly, giving him an apologetic look. Jungkook wants to cry. “I’m… really sorry for leaving you again like this. I…” you hesitate, looking at the door then back to him. “I do kind of owe him, so…”

Jungkook exhales shakily, bending down to the floor to pick his shirt up. He dresses quietly, cheeks burning. Why must you keep torturing him like this? He thinks his balls might explode at this point. “It’s no problem… I’ll just take care of myself at home.”

You peer at him, feeling incredibly guilty. “I have a connecting bathroom. You could use it if you want?”

“That’d be great, thanks.” Jungkook says before hurriedly rushing out of there. He refuses to look at you as he slams the bathroom door shut, breathing slowly through his nostrils in an attempt to calm himself. He waits as he listens for you to leave before his hands scramble back onto his dick, loudly crying out as he tugs himself to completion.

His legs give out from under him as he slides down to the floor, spurts of hot cum flying past his fist. Wave after wave of pleasure tingles down his spine as he slides up and down his cock. After his dick shoots its last droplet of cum, Jungkook slams his head against your bathroom wall. He’s exhausted.

He closes his eyes, thinks about how his life has led him up to this moment. Jizzing in some near stranger’s home while one of his best friends cleans up his fallen cheesecake.

“Jesus fucking Christ I hate it here,” he says. He gets up unsteadily, washing his hands of his mess.

x x x x x

Fully dressed and unsatisfyingly sated, Jungkook exits your bathroom with a flush down his neck. He keeps his eyes averted from you, but not before glaring heatedly at Yoongi as he turns to leave. Yoongi cocks his head to the side, annoyingly unaware of what he had done.

“You okay, dude? You look like a bull ready to pummel me,” Yoongi snickers, bemused by Jungkook’s flared nostrils. “Seriously. You okay?”

You slap Yoongi on the thigh, huffing angrily as you stay squatted on the floor, your other hand busy wiping off the cheesecake from the floor with a paper towel. “Shut up. You’ve done enough shitheadery today.”

Yoongi looks at the mounted clock on your fridge. “It’s only 7PM. My shitheadery doesn’t clock out until 10PM today.”

Rolling his eyes, Jungkook waves his goodbye. “Well. I guess I’ll see you guys,” he murmurs, inching closer to the door. He walks out in silence, no longer bothering to hide his pouting. He takes the elevator down, ruminating on his existence. When he reaches the ground floor, his phone immediately dings with a notification.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ hey. please don’t hate me. i’m really sorry. raincheck?

Jungkook snorts, stopping in his tracks. It’s always just rainchecks with you. He types up a quick response.

from: jjk it’s not your fault. it’s fine.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ you sure? you got off well by yourself at least, right?

from: jjk yeah. don’t worry about it.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ if you’re down… i could help you through the phone? when you get home? :( i just feel really bad. like, genuinely. yoongi is an asshole.

The offer sounds interesting, but sadly, Jungkook is out of juice for the day. He’s got a lot of stamina for many things, but it turns out he’s out of practice when it comes to his own dick.

from: jjk nah it’s fine. thanks though.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ i hope you’re still down for the contest? doyoung texted me while we were busy a while ago and said that they were free tomorrow after 12?

from: jjk no worries. i’ll be there.

from: y/n l/n ❣️ <3 ty you’re the best!! <3

He groans, slapping himself in the face. God, he is so fucking whipped.

x x x x x

The next day, Jungkook wakes up with a burning headache. He feels hungover even though he didn’t drink at all the night before, and Jungkook wonders if his brain had somehow deflated overnight with how hollow he feels. He grabs his phone from his bed stand, sees a new text from you reminding him of what he’d promised.

You had sent him an address to another apartment complex just a few bus stops away from where he lives and he assumes this must be either Doyoung’s or Taeyong’s place. He shuts his eyes for another few moments, trying his best to remember how to live.

It’s already nearing noon, so he needs to get going if he doesn’t want to be late. He shudders to think what you might do if he ghosts you. Despite how guilty you were yesterday for leaving him mid-nut, he doesn’t think that debt will cover him if he chooses not to show up to the dick-measuring contest.

On the bus, he fidgets in his seat, picking at the rips in his jeans and doing anything to keep his mind busy. He keeps thinking that someone knows what he’s up to, paranoia eating him from the inside out as he darts his eyes left and right, hoping no one can actually read minds. The bus is relatively empty, with only him and an elderly couple sitting near the front. They seem none the wiser, though Jungkook fears what they would think if they knew what he was up to.

He almost wishes he was wearing Seokjin’s thot shorts, as the skimpy excuse of clothing had somehow given him some sort of confidence the day before. Gone is that false sense of (misplaced) bravado; instead, Jungkook is filled with anxiety at the prospect of showing a couple of strangers his dick.

(A fairly human response, but that doesn’t help Jungkook’s current case.)

He arrives at the apartment complex in record time, and he sees you standing by the entrance. You look well-rested, your hands fiddling with your phone. Jungkook has only ever seen you when you were wearing that revealing dress from the club and your pajamas from your home, so he’s kind of shocked to see you look cute in your simple white dress and jean jacket. Not that you didn’t look good those other times, but seeing you look like a normal university student is astonishing, for lack of better word.

You almost look like a regular girl just waiting for her date to pick her up.

“Hey!” You greet him cheerily when you see him approach, waving at him. He waves back, the apples of his cheeks dusted pink from his previous thoughts. She’s not your date, you weirdo. Wait, she’s the weirdo. Get it together man! This shit is fucked up.

“This is their place, I assume?” Jungkook asks, looking at the building. It appears almost identical to your own apartment complex, minus the mini water fountain at the front. Ah, the wonders of living in a concrete jungle.

“Yep,” you nod. You start walking towards the entrance, with Jungkook following closely. “You ready? God, I can’t wait to see Doyoung’s stupid face. He’s gonna be so pissed!”

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” Jungkook mutters, vibrating with nerves.

You both make your way to the apartment, with you humming quietly while he sweats profusely beside you. At least one of you is having fun, he thinks grimly to himself. You reach apartment 322, knocking three times before a boy with neat black hair opens the door.

“Y/N! Good to see you,” the boy says, reaching for a hug. You hug him back enthusiastically, ignoring Jungkook’s bemused stares. If this boy is either Doyoung or Taeyong, aren’t you supposed to… hate both of their guts? Or at least, not be friends? What even is going on?

When you step back, you point at Jungkook offhandedly. “Oh yeah, this is Jungkook. The guy I’m dating.”

Jungkook nearly chokes on his own spit, but luckily the boy doesn’t notice. Right… You guys are supposed to be dating. It’s not real, though. Get a grip! “Hi, I’m Jungkook,” he wheezes, shaking the other guy’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you…”

“I’m Doyoung,” he introduces himself, a small smile on his lips. “Nice to meet you too. I’ve heard… a lot about you, so to speak.”

Jungkook squeaks, earning a chuckle from Doyoung. “No need to be embarrassed. I think we’re way past that point now. Sorry for roping you into this, by the way. But when Y/N wants to fight, well… Let’s just say I’m not going to be the first one who backs down.”

“Says the dude who couldn’t even beat me at arm wrestling,” you snort, pushing past Doyoung and walking into his home. Doyoung rolls his eyes, gesturing for Jungkook to come in.

“Props to you for dating her, by the way. I’ve been friends with that demon since elementary school, so I know what she’s like. You must be a guy with strong willpower,” Doyoung says.

“I’m… Sorry for saying this, but I’m kind of confused? I didn’t know you guys were friends,” Jungkook says, examining Doyoung’s apartment. It’s a lot bigger than yours, though he does recall you saying that Doyoung was filthy rich. It’s a lot more modern looking for sure, as Jungkook can see that Doyoung has two industrial-sized refrigerators in his kitchen. What kind of university student needs two industrial-sized refrigerators?

“Yeah, we are. She actually only dated Taeyong because she knew we both liked each other but I was too stubborn to make a move, so she did the only thing she knew how to do: be an asshole,” he explains simply. Jungkook nods, needing no further clarification.

“Jungkook! Come with me,” you pop out from one of the doorways deeper in the apartment, beckoning him closer. You point at Doyoung, “And you. Get Taeyong ready. I’m gonna need a few minutes to get Jungkook in tip-top shape!”

Doyoung chuckles, shoving Jungkook towards you. “Well, that’s my cue. I’ll introduce you to Taeyong later, I guess. He’s in my bedroom, so we’ll come out in about 20 minutes? That should be enough time, right?”

Yeah. Right. Jungkook walks numbly towards you, arms rigged by his sides as you pull him into Doyoung’s spare bathroom. You lock the door close, whirling around to face him with your hands on your hips. You’ve rolled your sleeves up, appearing like a demented surgeon preparing to dissect him. “Well! Strip!”

Jungkook is clumsy when he unbuttons his jeans, his entire body feeling like it’s being weighed down by pounds of lead. He shucks them off, leaving him in his boxers (thankfully, with no holes in them. He made sure to double-check before he left this morning.) You appraise him silently, thinking of what to do next.

Before Jungkook can say anything, your hands are already on his chest, pointer fingers placed near his nipples. His piercings are visible through his thin shirt, much to your appreciation. You circle them lazily, much like how you did yesterday.

Jungkook can’t relax long enough to enjoy it, however. His shoulders are tense, fists clenched behind his back. He’s trying to stop thinking about what’s going to happen, trying to enjoy your touch. He grits his teeth, swallowing thickly.

“I… I can’t do this, Y/N.” he mumbles. “I don’t think I can get hard. I’m too nervous.”

You pause in your movements. “You’re nervous?” you purr, voice lowering. Jungkook stops fidgeting to stare at you, sensing the shift in your demeanor. “How can I alleviate that, hmm?”

“What?”

You pinch his nipples, hard. He gasps, whimpering right after from the jolt of pain. “I think I know how to calm you down,” you murmur, staring him down like he’s nothing more than a delicious snack.

“You want me to hurt you, huh? Is that it? Answer me, slut.” You say those words, but there’s a small bit of hesitation in your expression, like you’re worried if he truly likes it. When he nods enthusiastically, urging you to go on, you smile softly at him. His heart hammers in his chest, a small case of butterflies beginning to erupt there. You look kinda cute, even if you have his nipples in a twist.

“If it’s too much, just say ‘dumbo’ and I’ll stop, okay?” Jungkook nods once more, eager to get going.

You smirk, letting go of his nipples and gripping his hips instead. Your thumbs stay innocently above his boxers. “Do you like it when I call you names too, huh? You like being pinched and prodded?”

Jungkook whines, already turning needy. The anxiety from a while ago slowly drains away, leaving only lust to cloud his mind. “N-no, I just…”

“No?” You laugh, your thumbs catching on the garter of his boxers and pulling them down until the tip of his cock peeks out, already in the midst of getting hard. “Then what’s this?”

“Nggh…” Jungkook can’t say anything, can only stare helplessly at you.

“Pathetic. You have a nine-inch cock but it’s good for nothing except earning me a bit of money. Shame, isn’t it? Would be nice if you knew how to use it, then maybe I’d let you fuck me,” you say, edging closer to him until your lips find his exposed collarbones. You suck harshly, giddy when color immediately blooms at the spot. You thread your fingers into his dark, fluffy hair – and tug.

It’s too much all at once – Jungkook isn’t ready for any of it at all. He’s panting, whining, drooling a little. He shimmies his hips a little, his boxers sliding down his thighs and onto the marble floor. His cock springs free, already dripping pre-cum but still only half-hard.

“Ah, there it is. Your big useless cock. My, my… Already dirtying Doyoungie’s floor with your slick, huh? You gonna make the floor wet, baby?”

Jungkook garbles something; did he say something? Who knows. All he knows right now is that 1) you’re making him lose his marbles and 2) he’s embarrassingly close. He’s never gotten this hard so fast in his entire life, and he might be suffering from blood loss or something. His head feels light, like he’s floating. His entire body is thrumming, senses filled with nothing but you.

You gently lead him closer to the bathtub where you sit, still paying no attention to his weeping arousal. Your mouth is dangerously close to it though, but you make no move to hold him in your mouth. Instead, you hike your skirt up until it reaches your waist, revealing your white panties. Jungkook zeroes in on the darkening patch, a shuddering breath leaving his lungs. He’s screwed.

“Show me how you pleasured yourself yesterday, when you were in my bathroom,” you say, caressing the front of your panties. You grind against your palm, eyelashes fluttering as your jaw drops into an ‘o’. You exhale through your nose, laughing breathily. “If you do well, then maybe I’ll show you what I did when you left, hmm?”

Jungkook has never moved faster in his life than he did then. He takes his erection into his hands, sighing with relief when he begins to pump. He moves slower than he usually would, unwilling to finish so soon after getting this far. He’s already wound up from your teasing (and if you count the past few days, then let’s say he’s been edged long enough.)

You study him with sharp eyes, focusing on the movement of his hands. “That’s it. It must be easy jerking off with how wet you are, huh?”

“Y-yeah.” Jungkook speeds up, flicking his wrist and focusing on the sensitive tip of his cock. His attention is pulled when he sees you shift from the corner of his eye. His grip stutters when you push your panties to the side, giving him a full view of your glistening core. He licks his lips, aching to put his mouth there but only if you’d allow him.

“Why’d you stop?” You stretch your leg out, using your foot to urge his wrist to keep moving. “Come on. I want to see you.”

You circle your clit leisurely before dipping your fingers into your pussy two fingers at a time, wet enough for the slide to be smooth. Jungkook quickens his pace, wanting to match your speed. He watches, mesmerized, at the sight of your fingers pushing in and out.

The obscene sounds coming from the both of you is loud enough to mask Jungkook’s desperate mewls. He’s going faster now, wanting nothing more than to cum all over you and your pussy. You’d look good in his cum, the pearly droplets would look good in contrast with your perfect skin.

Your thighs are shaking, your own breathing shallow as you quickly approach your end. You’re moaning in tandem with him, your arousal coating your fingers generously as it begins to run down the back of your hand. You’re scissoring yourself, but it’s barely enough when you compare it to Jungkook’s cock. No, nothing would be enough to prepare you to take him. He’d ruin you, and the thought of him breaking you is enough to help you tip over the edge.

“Fuuuuuuck,” you moan, eyes screwing shut as you are wrought with the strongest orgasm of your life. More wetness drips out of you as you rub frantically at your clit, riding your high. You look at Jungkook through your eyelashes, lips parted. “Fuck,” you repeat.

Jungkook can’t hold back anymore. He knows he shouldn’t cum but the pleasure is skyrocketing at an unparalleled speed. His balls tighten, the heat in his abdomen building until he can’t hold back even if he tried. He shudders once, twice, before jets of his cum spills from over his fist, some of the droplets making their way onto your thighs. He moans at the sight, doesn’t try to change his trajectory as his mind is completely hazed with lust. “Shit, I’m–” Jungkook grinds one last time into his hand, before promptly slumping down onto the floor.

“Jesus, that was a lot of cum,” he hears you say, but he can’t bring himself to look at you. He’s ashamed, having cummed without your permission. He can feel his dick softening underneath him, and he dimly remembers that hadn’t been the plan at all. He was supposed to get hard, have his dick measured, and then finish if he was allowed. And now, he ruined everything because he couldn’t hold himself back.

“I’m… I’m sorry,” he mutters quietly, hiding behind his cum-stained hands. He cringes when the mess enters his eyes, wiping his palm somewhere on his leg. “Fuck. I messed everything up. You were just… It was too much… You…”

“Should’ve used your safety word, Jungkook.”

“It wasn’t because it was bad,” Jungkook’s cheeks flush, “It was… too good.”

You kneel beside him, cradling his chin and forcing him to look at you. He had been afraid to see disappointment in your eyes, so he’s absolutely surprised to see you look… amused. You’re even giggling a little.

“Sorry. I went a bit overboard. Even I get horny sometimes,” you shrug, wiping a bit of cum away from his forehead. Your own fingers are slick with your own cum, so really, you were just making a bigger mess of his face. Jungkook can’t say he’s opposed to a little mess. “You just looked so good that I couldn’t help myself.”

“You… enjoyed yourself, too? I’m not insane for thinking there’s something between us?”

“Honestly, you’re at least a little bit insane,” you laugh at his dumbfounded expression. “What? I’m cuckoo, and you know it. The fact that you got turned on by me even after all I’d done to you… Really puts you into perspective, huh?”

Jungkook grumbles, but he’s no longer frowning. “I guess. My friends tell me I have a type, and I guess you fit the bill.”

You laugh wholeheartedly at that, and it brings a smile to Jungkook’s face. He likes it when you laugh, he decides. “Same here. I guess you’re my type, too.”

You peer down at his flaccid dick. “Too bad about your meat flute, though. Unless you can get it back up in the next 2 minutes, then I don’t think you’re getting that three grand.”

“Please don’t call my dick that,” Jungkook says before shrugging his shoulders. “And it’s no worries. I had the biggest nut of my life and that’s good enough to me. Plus, you said you’d give me one thousand dollars if I agreed to help you out, so you better not back out on that.”

You snigger, patting him gently on the shoulder. “Yeah, whatever. But not before we get out of here and you fuck my brains out, got it? You need to work for it, baby.”

Is it bad that his cock was already beginning to stir once more? Unprecedented, as it usually took Jungkook ages to get back up. Maybe you really were the one for him.

“Deal. Let’s get out of here?”

When the two of you finish getting cleaned up and leave the bathroom with no evidence that you had even been there, Doyoung doesn’t even bat an eye as you walk past him, eager to get out of the door. Taeyong is lounging on the couch with his dick… mysteriously still in his pants, as if he had no intention of taking them off in the first place.

“Sorry, we need to leave. There’s an emergency we have to attend to. See you, Doyoungie!” You tug Jungkook along, who waves his own hasty goodbye.

The door clicks shut, leaving the couple alone once more. Taeyong grins up at Doyoung, “You really are amazing, Doyoung. How’d you know she’d end up with him?”

Doyoung flicks open his phone, showing Taeyong his text messages with none other than Kim Seokjin himself. “All according to keikaku, my love. Kim Seokjin always wins.”

#networkbangtan #armiesnet #btsghostie #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts reader insert #bts fanfiction #bts scenarios #bts #jungkook scenarios #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jungkook #bangtan #bts fanfic #no more smut for 2020......... NO MORE #next fic is angst idc anymore I NEED TO CLEANSE MYSELF AHHHHHH

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drmmyrs · 3 years ago

Text

Remember Me (Becca x MC) Part 2

Hiii I’m back. Sorry again for the delay 😬I had such a hard time writing the ending so thank you so much @samanthadalton for all your help 😘Also, a big thanks to M anon for their suggestions and song request which I used some of.

tag list: @samanthadalton @crazzyplays @uselesslesbianfr @baexpoppy @alexroyard @alexlabhont @veenast @noixngn @sillyandcutewizardstuffs @doey-eyes8 @itszdavenport (If you wanna be added or removed or just prefer a certain ship just let me know ❤️)

Read Part 1

Pairing: Becca x MC (Emily)

Warnings: some swearing

Word Count: 2289

It's been an hour since Emily last came into my room to remind me of my doctor's appointment. And it's been about thirty minutes since I've been ready to go, physically at least. Naturally, I tried to get Chris to come with me instead because he's my boyfriend, right? Ughh fine, ex-boyfriend. But can you blame me, though? How am I suppose to move on when I literally have no memory of some sort of breakup or closure? I stare at the dull beige-colored ceiling, a view which has me panicking in the mornings right after I wake up, before I remember that I don't live at the sorority house anymore. I then close my eyes and get comfort in the memories I have left, my only anchor on the reality I knew, away from this freakish place with the people I don't even give a shit about.

After a couple more minutes, I begrudgingly get up with a groan and trudge downstairs, finding Emily waiting on the couch. She smiles upon seeing me, but I don't return the gesture, being genuinely annoyed at the prospect of having to spend an incessant amount of time with her. So instead, I walk past her towards the door, my heels clattering on the wooden surface. Emily then follows behind me from a distance, careful not to invade my space. Once outside, I walk straight towards the passenger door of Emily's junk of a car, grabbing the handle as I glare at Emily impatiently, waiting for her to unlock it. As soon as unlocked, I sink into the seat, slamming the door close harder than I intended. Emily, though, takes a second before going in, eyeing the seat suspiciously as if it might shatter anytime. Once seated, she places her hand on the gear stick, slightly trembling. And then it dawns on me, I may have forgotten about the accident, but it's probably still fresh from her memory, terrorizing her at every reminder. All this time, I've been complaining about how unfair everything is for me, not once considering how it may have affected her.

"Who was driving?" I ask. It may not be the best thing to talk about right now, but I have to know.

I see Emily flinch at the question, and before she even opens her mouth, I know. She looks out the windshield, her voice cracking when she replies, "I was."

I nod. My mom told me it was a drunk driver running a red light that hit us, so I don't blame her at all, not anymore.

"Is it–" The words come out sharp, so I stop and soften my voice. "Is it the first time you drove since?"

Emily doesn't reply immediately; instead, she shifts the gear and steps on the gas pedal as we begin to make our way towards the hospital. She grips the steering wheel tightly, anxiously looking at the road, her eyes obsessively sweeping for any oncoming traffic at every intersection.

"No. No it's not but..." Emily trails off, her knuckles turning white as her grip on the steering wheel tightens.

But it's her first time to drive with me in the car. I turn my head to look out the window, knowing full well I can't ease her fears. How can I when I'm the living reminder of everything she lost?

---------

I immediately regret my outfit choice as soon as we get into the waiting room, the frigid temperature biting at my skin, sending sharp pains like that of a needle across my exposed skin. I try to play it cool, but a shiver escapes my body, desperate for any source of heat. A few seconds later, a jacket appears in front of me, held by Emily who is wearing an annoyingly cute little smile on her face. I mumble thanks and take the jacket, placing it over my shoulders, smelling the scent of lavender as I bask in the comfort of heat.

I take out my phone and browse my socials, catching up on all the events I missed–or forgotten–while ignoring the get well soon messages from both people I know and don't know that have been piling up ever since the accident. A few minutes later, the doctor calls my name, and as I stand up, Emily does as well but then sits back down almost immediately, clearly unsure if her company is welcome.

I roll my eyes. "Come on."

---------

After a useless consultation–apparently, they can't do much to help me regain my memories–Emily suggests we stop by an ice cream parlor not far from here. I assent, but only because I need the comfort of a sugary snack right now, and it's been ages since I had one, or at least I think so.

We reach a store I don't recognize, replacing an office space that, while I never paid attention to before, was a pleasant fixture in my reality, not this... eyesore. I shake my head; I can't keep living in the past. I follow Emily into the store, reminding myself that this is my reality now.

Inside, the floor is patterned with alternating pink and black tiles, and the walls are coated with somewhat fresh pink paint adorned with decors that scream ice cream as if one might stumble into the shop looking for lunch or something.

"Welcome t–ah Emily and Becca! I haven't seen you girls in a while."

I turn around to see a guy, probably in his mid-twenties– smiling at us like... I shoot Emily a side-eye. She, of course, fails to mention that the guy working here is buddy-buddy with me. So, is this the kind of couple we were? Those who frequent an ice cream parlor enough to be on a first-name basis with the ice cream guy? I internally groan in disgust at the thought.

"–Becca." I'm pulled out of my thoughts when I hear my name. Emily and the ice cream guy are looking at me expectantly.

"Sorry I didn't hear," I mumble.

"You'll be having strawberry, your usual, correct?" says the guy with a wide smile.

I do want strawberry, but I shake my head and say, "Vanilla," just to spite him, annoyed how some stranger knows my favorite ice cream flavor.

"Ooh, trying something new today, are we? One rocky road and vanilla coming right up," he announces in an annoyingly high pitch voice. I struggle not to roll my eyes.

"Where's the bathroom?" I ask, which is met by a look of confusion followed by a laugh.

"You know wh–"

Emily quickly interjects, "The bathroom's there, Becca," pointing at a door at the back of the store.

I excuse myself and go to the bathroom, heading straight towards the mirror. I stare at my reflection, nitpicking every tiny detail that has changed throughout the years, changes I don't recognize at all. A tear rolls down my cheek, but I quickly wipe it away. I'm Rebecca fucking Davenport; I don't cry. I grip the sink tightly, overcome with a new resolution. I know who I am; they don't, convincing myself more than anyone else.

Once finishing up in the bathroom, I head back outside, noticing a different aura in the room. Emily is holding our orders with an apologetic look while the ice cream guy regards me with pity, something I've grown used to in the past few weeks. I take my ice cream from Emily, not meeting her gaze, and walk out of the store, striding ahead of her towards the car, not once looking back.

--------

On the ride home, silence weighs heavily between us as Emily bites at her lower lip, either contemplating what to say or waiting for me to go off on her. After an awkward amount of time, Emily finally breaks the silence.

"I'm sorry I–"

"Forget about it," I cut her off, too exhausted to engage with her. I think about the previous encounter, wondering if that would be my norm. Unfamiliar people coming up to me, sharing inside jokes and anecdotes while I stare blankly at them, wondering if I should explain my situation or just ignore them, being the bitch I know I am. I stare out the window, seeing all the changes in the city, musing about the memories I may have had alongside them, memories that I may or may not recover. It's as if an impostor had been living my life for the past two years, and now I'm forced to follow in their footsteps. It's obvious I had changed a lot during those years, my previous enemies becoming my closest friends, my greatest rival supposedly becoming the love of my life. Was she the love of my life? Was I happy with Emily?

It's already dark outside when we arrive home. I notice a few cars parked down the road, something unusual considering this is the only house for at least a couple of blocks. What do I know, though, it's not like I remember much about this place. I turn my attention back to the house; the lights inside are turned off, leaving a lone street lamp and the car's headlights as the primary sources of light, accentuating the jagged grey bricks of the house, almost giving an appearance of something sinister. This is ridiculous; I chide myself for being scared of a stupid house.

Emily walks ahead towards the door while I follow a few steps behind. As soon as I walk inside, the light turns on, and I'm greeted by a chorus of surprise echoing throughout the house, coming from people whom I only recognize half of. I stare at them blankly, unimpressed but just mostly confused. My mother walks over to me and gives me a big hug.

"Happy birthday, sweetie."

Birthday? I inconspicuously look at my phone. Huh. I could've sworn I've seen the date today at least a few times. A few moments later, Emily steps forward with a cake in her hands.

"Happy birthday babe," she says, immediately followed by a look of horror. "Becca. Sorry."

Of course Emily had planned this. It doesn't really matter if I wanted to have a stupid party. She had to go ahead and decide for me.

"Go ahead and blow out the candles," my mom urges.

I blow out the candles, faking a smile for my mom. As much as I want to storm into my room, I'm not about to break my mom's heart by causing some unnecessary drama.

--------

Just a few moments into the party, and I'm already exhausted–people lining up to greet me, asking how I've been doing since the accident. I realize that most people here don't know about my condition, which means I have had to engage in quite a few conversations about the things I've supposedly been doing for the past few years, things I have no recollection of, to which I gave vague answers to avoid having to explain everything.

I down my fourth glass of virgin cuba libre, eyeing the display of alcohol with contempt, resentful that I can’t drink because of the medicine I took earlier, when Zack drags me across the room to play some truth or dare with a bunch of people, some of whom I don't recognize. Thankfully, if there was one thing the sorority has taught me, it's that you don't have to know someone to ask the right questions or expertly avoid the common ones. That is of course until someone asks you the most unexpected question.

"Do you have a date for the wedding yet?"

I stare at them blankly, fumbling for words. Wedding?

"I–I–"

But before I can make up an answer, Kaitlyn arrives with Emily in tow, and that's when I notice it, the ring on Emily's finger. I gasp for breath, feeling like the air is taken out of my lungs. And I almost don't notice it when Kaitlyn takes out her guitar and starts singing, joined by the others.

When all the tears are rolling down your face And it feels like yours was the only heart to break When you come back home and all the lights are out And you're getting used to no one else being around

Oh, oh, I'll be there

I look at the unfamiliar faces, singing their hearts out, gazing at me fondly. I then turn my gaze to Emily's ring finger, and sitting on it is a small but glistening diamond and part of me chastises myself for not noticing earlier. I feel the entire room’s eyes on me and suddenly, it becomes too much for me to withstand. I stand up, scrabbling to go to my room, footsteps following behind me. Once I got on the stairs, Emily shouts my name from behind, and I stop at the sound of her voice, turning around.

"We were engaged? Why didn't you tell me?" My voice comes out harsher than expected and it seems to take Emily by surprise too because she just stands there motionless, speechless. “Marriage is a big thing Emily, that’s not something you can just conveniently not tell me.” I let out a frustrated groan, momentarily letting the anger wash all over me before I’m left with a bitter feeling in the pit of my stomach. “I’m sick of having random people tell me things about my life which I can’t even remember when my own fianc–” I stop, not even being able to say the word, shaking my head as the agony brought by my predicament proves to be too much. “I can’t do this. I'm sorry," I croak before running towards my room, slamming the door behind me. I then curl myself in bed as the tears fall freely.

#becca #becca davenport #becca x mc #the freshman series #playchoices #my work #my writing #my fanfics #request

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writer-panda · 4 years ago

Text

Hit on the groom and what became of it - chapter 1/I will keep missing you (if you don’t stop running)

Disclaimer: I don’t own DC or Miraculous. I’m just playing with some crazy concept.

Chapter 1 (here) -|- Next

-------------

Ladybug landed on top of the Eiffel tower with practiced grace. An agitated worry roiling in her chest about the message Chat Noir left her. The urgency was one thing, but he sounded… pained. Like the weight of the world dragged him down type pain.

Marinette knew Chat’s home life wasn’t perfect. Skilled at hiding it, maybe, but details leaked through the cracks. An offhand comment here, a muttered accusation there, a sour face yet again here. He lived in pain and tried so hard to work through it.

She tried to help him whenever she could, both as Ladybug and Marinette. She may not return his feelings, but she always listened. For months during their third year as heroes, she left food on the rooftop when Chat’s suit revealed too many ribs. She wasn’t sure the reason and didn’t dare to ask, lest she learned too much, but she did try to help. There were times she thought she imagined the pained looks, and thin frame, and thinly veiled comments; maybe overexaggerating the situation in her mind, as she often did. After all, he always acted so cheerfully.

Then, Lila happened.

The first strike landed swift, almost deadly, but she survived. It was what followed that made her reconsider. A prolonged fight, where Marinette chose to retain a cheerful mask to hide the pain. Along the line, she considered confiding in her parents. But what could they do? Maybe take her from school, but that would mean Lila already won; the Liar would rule unopposed.

Which left Adrien, her last bastion of friendship.

She still harbored a bit of a crush on him, but it was justified! Like a knight in shining armor, he stood, always ready to defend her. He always ensured her inclusion in class activities and saved her from several catastrophes.

She still stumbled over her words with him, but when it’s minor stuttering or not talking to anyone, she forced herself to adapt. It was nowhere near as bad as it used to be.

With the ability to spend more time with Adrien without acting like a spaz, Kagami also appeared more often, and proved to be a good friend. Marinette found a home with the two awkward rich kids ridiculously clueless and unaware of how the real world functioned. In the end, she even grew to accept Adrien might not be destined to be hers but chose to support him nonetheless.

“My lady?” She was broken out of her musing by a familiar voice.

“Hello, Kitty-cat. I got your message… what’s wrong?” She turned to see Cat Noir slumped over the railing, with his ears tweaking nervously. She didn’t even know he could do it.

“I… I’m sorry my Lady, but I can’t… I can’t continue to be your partner,” he declared.

“What?!” she squeaked. “What happened? What’s the matter?”

“I’m… I’m getting married,” he announced, his ears drooping and tail tucked between his legs.

Oh, that’s… not what she expected to hear. “Married? Congrat…” she drifted off, noticing his sour face. “Chat? What are you not telling me?”

“It’s… I… My…” He struggled to figure out how to say it, but ultimately remained silent for a moment. “There is nothing to be happy about. It’s a… business marriage,” he spat, his eyes narrowing.

“But… those are illegal!” Ladybug protested.

“Not when you make it look like a love match. Especially if you insinuate at a scandal.” He sneered, jumping off the railing and pacing along the empty rooftop. “My father holds all the cards and I… I’m in no position to oppose him.”

“I’m sure we can…”

He sighed, walking over to her. “Please… M’lady. Don’t try to give me hope. I accepted what I must do.” With that, he reached for the ring, but she stopped him.

“Chat. We can try… You’re my friend. You can’t… We will figure it out. Together.” In all they’d endured, suffered, and triumphed - Marinette had never seen him this despondent… this broken.

He sighed, his eyes flat and dull. “There is nothing to figure out,” he said, forcing the ring off his finger.

The transformation fell, leaving Adrien Agreste materialized in place of her long-time partner. Plagg’s sharp cry cut off, as he’s sucked into the ring the second he popped out of it. She stood there, too stunned to notice the blond boy pushed the ring into her palm and closed it.

Marinette wasn’t sure what thoughts decided to rampantly rage through her head, but the train of thoughts probably broke the collective speed limit everywhere in the world at the same time.

“M’lady?” Adrien’s soft voice brought her to earth when she was one step from panic.

“A-Adrien?” She choked on the word.

“You heard about me?” He looked dumbfounded. Ladybug, too shocked to say a word, gestured over to the building line. Even from so high and far away, his most recent billboard advertisement stood visible. “Ah… right.”

“Who… who’s the lucky girl?” Inside her mind, she wondered if Kagami right now faced a similar problem. It was the most logical…

“Lila Rossi,” Adrien admitted, his shoulders hunching.

Marinette.exe stopped working.

A moment passed.

Another.

“Um… M’Lady?” The boy tried to prod his ex-partner to respond by waving his hand in front of her face.

“That… that lying…” Ladybug saw red. This could not be happening.

Adrien nodded, the despondent look on his face growing worse every second.“My father deemed her a suitable heiress to the Gabriel brand… I tried to warn him she was a liar, but he… I think he actually admires her skill…” Tears built in his eyes, and Adrien covertly tried to wipe them away.

“Maybe… maybe you could… I don’t know!” she screamed in frustration. Marinette had several ideas about what Adrien could do, but none of them would help.

Running away would be a problem. Leaking the story to the press would lead to his home life growing even worse. After dealing with Gabriel Agreste’s parenting, she held no illusion Adrien could win a court battle. The rich too often got away with whatever they desired. She could try to sicc Uncle Jagged on the case… or maybe Clara Nightingale… Nadia Chamack would probably love the news-breaking story, but it would all put Adrien in danger. Who knows what would happen before they could obtain results or protection against Gabriel’s extensive reach.

Adrien sighed as if knowing exactly where her thoughts took her. Chat was no dummy, he probably scoured over his options more times than he could count. His resignation, the last resort in a long line of failed plans. “I appreciate you trying, but I already told you I accepted it. Just… take me down, please. I… I didn’t really plan the location well…” He let out a weak chuckle.

“Fine… I’m sorry kitty...” She grabbed hold of him and swung to the ground. Despondently she watched her best friend, her partner, walk away into the night; resigned to a life of suffering and isolation.

There must be something she could do, she thought. She closed a gloved fist around the ring. She was Ladybug, and if she put her mind to it, there was nothing she couldn't do.

-----------

A week later the press learned about the upcoming wedding. Adrien and Lila both left school for home-school. The press and the general public ate up the news story about star-crossed lovers that met in school and became inseparable. It didn’t help that the class kept commenting about how good they were for each other.

Marinette resisted an urge to gag whenever she caught the sound of the vicious lies and propaganda. She was asked for comment only once but chose to refuse. It didn’t earn her any popularity in class. Luckily, she convinced Nadia to stop a nasty side-story about her jealousy from being published.

No closer to a plan, she despondently continued to push through her life without her friend. She, unsurprisingly, hadn’t received a single text or call. Marinette didn’t blame Adrien; his position couldn’t be easy. A month after Adrien departed from her class, Marinette convinced her parents to also home-school her. Without a single friend, the school became a burden. Of course, her reasoning to her parents leaned into her focus on her fashion business. Which wasn’t untrue. It was starting to pick up.

The only upside to this whole debacle was near-lack of akuma attacks. It seemed Hawkmoth found a hobby. Maybe he wrote poems?

Nah. Not his style...

Two months after the announcement Marinette woke to surprise guests: Adrien, his father, and Lila knocked on the bakery’s doors. The bride-to-be in an especially sour mood, as much as she tried to hide it. Gabriel appeared to be devoid of any emotions, as usual.

She seated them on the couch and asked if they would like a drink. She didn’t bother to offer food, not wanting to waste good cake on the likes of Lila and Gabriel. Although, Adrien’s thin cheeks and haunted eyes made her regret the decision.

All of them declined the drink.

“Madame Marinette, I assume you have heard of the Wedding?” The capitalization clearly discernible in his voice.

“Yes… Yes sir!” she corrected herself. Trying desperately to mask her disgust behind a layer of nervousness. She couldn’t risk a glance at Adrien, even if this was the first time she’d seen him since that night on the roof. Making it through the meeting would be hard enough without watching him suffer.

“While initially, I planned to prepare the dress and suit myself, my son convinced me to give a chance to someone else to shine.” Clearly, whatever it was Adrien said, it didn’t include a polite request. “I have seen the dress you made for Rock Star Jagged Stone’s wedding, as well as the suit worn by Nadia Chamack.”

“They are designs I’m particularly proud of, sir.”

Play the part. Play the part. Don’t send him to the hospital. Papa and Maman would be disappointed. Well, Maman would probably join me…

Her homicidal train of thought ended as she forced a smile to appear on her face. Contrary to Lila’s stretched thin lips; Marinette’s smile shines bright and could’ve been mistaken for genuine.

“Indeed… I’ve come to commission you to design and make the gown and the suit for the sweet couple.” He announced like it was the highest honor, but there was an amount of bile in his words Marinette used to think was reserved only for Nino.

“I… I’m… I’m honored, sir!” She beamed. The excitement only half-forced. Her moral compass told her even entertaining the proposal was wrong, but at the same time, her brain furiously flitted crafting possibilities.

Gabriel nodded imperiously as if her acceptance merely added to a foregone conclusion. “Good. My assistant, Nathalie, will sort out the details. Lex Luthor agreed to pay for the pieces as his wedding gift, so do not be afraid to ask for full price.” He informed her t as if he believed she would give him a discount.

For a moment, a singular reckless moment, Marinette entertained the temptation to voice her thoughts about Gabriel being cheap.

She sighed, no, there would be another day for career suicide. The group rose to leave, and Marinette finally glanced at Adrien; his model-trained smile paper-thin. He caught her eyes, and if he radiated sadness two months ago, it didn’t hold a candle to the devastation swimming in his eyes. The exchange broke when Lila gripped a hand tight around his arm and dragged him to the door.

Gabriel handed her a card, and the group departed. Marinette collapsed onto the couch, the makings of a headache building in her skull.

This would be awful.

------------

A week later Marinette held a separate meeting, consisting of Nathalie, Lila, Lila’s mother, and Adrien’s aunt. And her, obviously.

She first asked what kind of dress Lila wanted.

Lila’s eyes lit up in an unholy glee; and she started talking.

And talking.

After the long and painstakingly thorough description, Marinette felt faint. Several reasons contributed to that, although the most prominent were the materials, the design, and the way she spoke. Obviously Lila had feelings, the kind likely to trigger an oncoming Auma attack if Hawkmoth hadn’t pranced off to who knows where, about Marinette designing her dress.

Marinette was happy Adrien’s aunt pointed out the request’s complete madness, but Lila’s mother waved it off, quick to declare only minor adjustments to the request would be needed.

In the end, Marinette presented several dozen designs, both hers and foreign to have a basis on which she could work. Lila, of course, chose the one that would be hardest to make.

“I’m sorry none of your designs were good, Marinette…” The liar cooed with faked sorrow. She hid a smirk the designer could clearly see.

The notion was born because it was a picture and not a sketch.

Marinette smirked, and rose from the couch, ignoring Lila’s irritated scowl at her non-reaction.

She liked it even less when the girl brought in the ready-made dress.

“I made it as the first design for Penny Rolling’s wedding, based on Uncle Jagged’s suggestions. I should’ve known Penny didn’t approve of his idea, but…” she waved it off.

Lila, now actively glaring at her, sat back on the couch. All of which was mistaken for amazement by the adults.

Marinette ignored the girl’s dramatics, it was the only way she’d survive this meeting intact. “Of course, there still needs to be several adjustments and personalizations. I will also need to order the amber you requested. And the platinum thread. And the white gold. And probably an industrial-grade 3-D printer… Is that covered by the expenses?” She looked at Nathalie, who nodded. “Great! I will need just a moment.”

The women watched as Marinette practically leaped at her notebook and added in adjustments to the sketch. Fifteen minutes later, when she presented a new design, impressing them all (sans Lila, obviously) with the flowing lines and intricate details. They praised her talent (even Natalie), and Marinette played the bashful young designer role to a tee. The liar kept glaring though. She couldn’t back away easily, since she already made a scene about wanting that specific dress. Marinette informed them beforehand she would need to know about her specific wishes before she made any adjustments.

The final design looked pretty much exactly what Lila wanted though, but she didn’t want to give her nemesis the satisfaction. Her entourage did enough of this.

Under the cover of being too emotional, they ended the meeting. Nathalie remained to finish the deal and sign the contract.

After all of them left, Marinette collapsed onto her chair. An hour later a notification from her bank came. She received the first half of the payment. When finished, the dress would officially be the most expensive wedding dress to date. Blessed be Lex Luthor and his deep pocket. She chuckled, remembering how much the billionaire got kidnapped because of his money.

Then, an idea shined in her head.

Oh.

Oh...

She took off her earrings and dismissed Tikki, promising she needed a quick chat with Plagg about a new potential holder. When Marinette put on the ring, the Kwami of destruction popped back into existence.

“So… figured out how to help my chosen?” he asked.

What Tikki didn’t know was when Marinette said she intended to discuss potential holders for Plagg, they really worked on a way to save Adrien. It was their secret since Tikki would most likely disapprove. They didn’t want to risk her disappointment in them. Not until they crafted a fleshed out full-proof plan.

She nodded. “I have an idea. Let’s hire someone to kidnap him!”

Plagg rolled his eyes. “Did they hit you on the head, pigtails?”

“No. But look, the problem is whatever we come up with, Adrien ends up blamed or we land ourselves in jail, right?” The Kwami nodded. “So… if we make sure it’s a very public kidnapping and he disappears, we can stash him away until the heat dies down. After we dye his hair and apply fast-tan, he will look different enough no one will connect the two. I’m pretty sure I could get my hands on fake documents if I tried hard enough…” she trailed off thinking of all the minutiae to coordinate to pull this off.

It would be hard.

But it would be worth it.

Plagg slowly nods. “Okay… Somehow, that both makes no sense and seems perfectly legitimate. It’s also your most chaotic plan to date, Pigtails. Let’s do it!” The Kwami cheered, happy to be soon reunited with his chosen kitten. “But what about the costs!”

Marinette already had an answer in mind for that question. “Even after I subtract the costs of materials and other supplies, the payment for the dress, together with my savings, will be more than enough. Now… let’s go wake Tikki up.”

That… ended with the Kwami of Creation vomiting a pile of handcuffs and other police gear at Marinette.

“Um… Why?”

The little red Kwammi placed her paws on her hips. “Because you should familiarize yourself with those if you plan on going to prison for that plan. It’s no longer just a phone theft, Marinette! You’re talking about breaking more laws than I can count!” She dropped to the pillow below, bemoaning about where she went wrong.

Marinette scooped up her wayward friend and tried to reassure her. “I just need to be careful. I’m pretty sure I can do it without detection. Maman taught me how to not be seen on the internet. Or in general. Come on. I need to order a secure laptop.”

“I will help!” Plagg offered. “I can cataclysm the internet after you do your thing.”

“What?! No! Think of the cute cat pictures!” Marinette protested. “And video games.”

“Relax! It’ll just remove any trace of you doing anything online in the several hours or so…” He calmed her.

Tikki trailed after them, a bundle of nerves and worry. “Plagg! It’s irresponsible! You can’t possibly…”

“Pigtails and I have it all under control. What’s the worst that could happen?”

---------

Turns out, a lot.

Before Marinette put out the hit (kidnapping, she made sure that it was plain as day), she needed to set a price. That one was harder. It wasn’t like you could Google how much you needed to charge to kidnap a celebrity. At least, not without attracting a lot of unwanted attention.

She asked her mother, under the guise of pure curiosity. It was a normal question any teenage girl asked her mother. How much does it cost to have someone killed, how much cheaper/more expensive a kidnapping is, how to acquire fake documents, that kind of stuff. Not suspicious at all.

So absorbed in her rant, she missed a merry glint in Sabine’s eyes. She also didn’t question how her Maman knew those prices.

Finally, she needed to fill the form.

Assignment: Acquisition and Delivery

Asset(s): Adrien Athanase Agreste

Value:

Here, Marinette paused.

Her mom gave her a lengthy lecture about pricing and all. According to her, a professional would take up to fifty thousand dollars for kidnapping and bringing the target to her. Marinette decided, since Adrien was a celebrity, she should double the price. More risks involved, more reward, right?

But, she also wanted to ensure she hired the best of the best. Compare her work to Gabriel Agreste’s, she came to the conclusion ten times the price was reasonable to ensure only the best in the field would take the job.

Then, there was the matter of safety and so on and so on. By the end, she settled on two million dollars, as her asking price for one Adrien Agreste. Plagg sagely nodded, agreeing with her assessment. Tikki didn’t comment, as she wasn’t speaking to the two, but also seemed more accepting after spying on Adrien and Lila’s home life. Not that she revealed that tidbit to either of them, lest they drop the plan and directly go at Gabe and the Liar.

After a few more details and boxes in the form Marinette filled until she came to the end. Only one more detail remained:

Sponsor:

Marinette stared at the word for a moment. After a quick race of thoughts, she typed slowly.

Sponsor: The Seamstress

Perfect. Nothing about this could go wrong.

Of course, how could she predict just how big of a mess she would make?

----------

#maribat #marinette dupain cheng #BAMF Marinette #adrien agreste #miraculous #miraculous ladybug #mlb #mlb x dc #dc #DC comics

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 4 years ago

Text

In pais

This is dark!prince!Loki x reader and explicit. 18+ only. It include noncon and other dark elements. Curate your consumption accordingly.

Summary: A prince visits your father’s inn.

Note: first of all, let’s make it clear that @lokislastlove is always responsible for Loki drivel. Secondly, I am here and there with writing, I’ve pretty much decided to write when I want to and what I want to. I’m going to stop holding myself to ridiculous schedules and deadlines that aren’t real. My anxiety is wild y’all.

Also, unofficially in my head and heart, considering this like a sister fic to Droit du seigneur.

I hope y’all enjoy!

Let me know what you think! (Like, reblog, reply, leave some words, a gif, nonsensical emojis)

You shouldered your way out of the small barn. You were careful not to slosh the milk over the side of the bucket as you rounded the inn. The top would be skimmed and cream could be served for dessert, although your father’s tavern was not very busy that day. It was never bustling, merely a stop for most on a much longer road. Few stayed the night, usually opting for an ale and a meal before leaving.

Hooves pounded the dust and you stopped to watch the party of men on their galloping horses. You feared they would trample the fence as they neared and you backed up against the front of the inn, just feet away from the front door. Dirt powdered the air and the horse slowed before the fence that closed in the livestock.

A lithe man swung off a dark stallion, his own hair a similar shade of black that hung down his shoulders. His green cape swished around him and the other men dismounted with less grace. One of them approached; noblemen by the velvet of their capes and the silver on their belts.

“Rooms for the night,” He jangled a purse as his wavy orange hair fell forward over his brow. “And as much wine as you have.”

“We’ve more ale than wine,” You returned as you shifted the weight of the pail.

“Either will do,” The taller man with the black hair strode forward and slapped his gloves against his palm. His lip curled as he peered up at the inn. “I suppose we’ll have to take what we can get here.”

You looked between them and the other men traipsed behind as they chattered noisily. The black-haired noble looked down at you sharply.

“Well, little mouse, take your milk and prepare our quarters,” He nodded to the other man who waved the purse in your direction. “Or do you only tend to the animals?”

“My lord,” You cradled the bucket with one arm and snatched the purse. “All will be arranged. I will inform the inkeep of your arrival.”

“I suppose venison would be out of the question,” He ventured.

“Rabbit or hen.” You countered. “My lord.”

“Your highness, actually,” He corrected. “Prince, if you must.”

You squeezed the purse and nodded as your brows twitched. “Your highness.” You repeated and bowed as well as you could with your armful. “If you follow me, might take a left after we enter and seat yourself in the common room.”

You spun on your heel and continued your path to the front door. You pushed through with your hip and called to Celeste. “Party of five. Is there any wine left?”

“We’ve a cask from Mirraine,” She said. “Bitter red.”

“Fetch that and a barrel of ale,” You passed the front counter where she sat and wove thread around a frame. “And show these lords to the tables. I’ll tell Giles to hurry.”

“And your father?” She asked.

“He’s your husband.” You shrugged. “I thought he was still abed.”

“I wouldn’t blame him for hiding there for your nagging,” She stood. “He is in the kitchen.”

You stopped as she neared the end of the counter and lowered your voice. “Save that sharp tongue for me, stepmother. A prince will not be so tolerant.”

“Prince?” Her lashes fluttered and she smoothed her apron. “Perhaps you should bide your own warning.”

She brushed past you and you continued down the hallway between the counter and the stairs that led to the mostly vacant rooms. You swung the door open with your foot and passed through to plop the pail on the table within. Giles yawned as he sat on a stool and stared at the fire stove. Your father swirled a stein and watched the foam thin.

“We’ve customers. Rooms and dinner, expected.” You announced. “Noblemen… and a prince.”

Your father’s stein slammed on the table. He blanched and Giles gave another disinterested yawn.

“What’s on the spit today?” Your father hissed at the cook.

“Rabbit?” Giles frowned. “I think.”

“Aye, you fool,” Your father smacked the back of his head. “A prince you said?”

“Yes. Black hair. I suppose it is the younger.” You answered.

“Loki,” Your father coughed. “Shit.”

“You know a prince, father?” You challenged.

“Know of him,” Your father said. “Don’t be a mare, daughter.”

“There should be enough cream for a dessert.” You offered. “We’ve flour. A pastry could be devised.”

“Where is your mother?”

“Your wife? Why she’s entertaining the prince and his men.” You scoffed. “Think I saw her pinch her cheeks to try to get some colour back in her jowls.”

“Don’t be so crass. Go, send her to bake the dessert then and take some cups for our guests.” Your father spat. “And smile. You look at the prince like that and he might march us all to the scaffold.”

“Don’t be so ridiculous,” You grabbed a tray and loaded it with empty steins and a few goblets. “If anything, it will be Celeste who has us whipped.”

Your father snorted darkly and you turned with your fare. You pushed through the door once more and made your way to the front room where the men sat around one of the round tables. You neared as your stepmother giggled, a piglike noise, and you stopped beside her.

“Father would have you prepare dessert,” You said to Celeste as you neared. “Did you send for the kegs?”

“The stable boy had run to fetch them,” She sneered. “You might have rolled the dough yourself.”

“I might have,” You tilted your head. “But I do as my father bids me. As you vowed to do, did you not?”

She huffed and left you. Godwin appeared with a dark cask in hand and lugged it to a table. He wiped his forehead, his lanky arms trembling. “I’ll have the ale shortly, miss,” He panted. “And a tap.”

“Thank you, Godwin,” You said and you didn’t miss his lingering gaze.

He’d been sweet on you for years, even after you’d rebuffed him at the harvest feast last season. You placed your tray behind the cask and waited. Godwin returned, breathless and beet red as he dragged the barrel. You helped him lift it beside the cask and took the tap from him.

“Go see to the horses.” You said. “Find a brush if you can.”

You watched him go and crossed back to the table of nobles. “I’ve enough wine for you each to have at least a cup and more than enough ale to go around. So what shall I fetch you, my lords? And your highness?” You bowed your head at Prince Loki.

“Wine,” The prince spoke first.

Only one other requested wine and you went about your duty. You served Loki first and then his men. They grew louder as you left them to their drinking and you went through to the kitchen to check in on your measly staff.

“Don’t serve them the heels, you dolt,” Your father snarled at Giles. “And trim the mold off the cheese.”

“Ah, I see, only the finest for the royal prince.” You mused.

“Don’t,” Your father rounded the table. “Help your mother.”

“Your wife,” You insisted once more as you watched Celeste beat the dough.

The door swung behind you as your father left and you neared your stepmother. She seemed as angry at the dough as she usually was at you.

“Don’t you dare touch it,” She warned. “You’ll ruin it.”

“I’ll ruin it,” You rolled your eyes. “Sure.”

“A prince. Imagine it.” She went on as she folded the dough. “Here, of all places. Just hope your father doesn’t join them for a pint.”

“Ha, as if they’d have him.” You shook your head.

“You’re one to talk about being had,” Celeste hissed. “If we don’t find you a husband soon, I don’t even think the convent will take you.”

“You think my father is a prize, do you?”

The door swung and you turned as you father stomped through. “Aye, what they say has to be true. Sly little bugger. Tongue on him.” He adjusted his belt below his stomach. “Daughter.” He waved to the door. “Go keep the drink flowing. That prince did not think the wine so sweet from my hand.”

“The dessert--”

“Don’t be wise with me,” He warned. “The prince wants you serving his meal this evening. He paid me good coin for it, so go out and see if you can’t get more.”

You hid a scowl and sidled past your father. You wiped the irritation from your brow and returned to the common room. You neared the table and folded your hands over your apron.

“Your highness, my lords? Do you require another round?”

“Do you have water without scum?” The prince asked. “If not, I’ll take some of that milk you dragged in.”

“I’ll fetch you some milk, your highness,” You returned. “And you, sirs?”

“We can work a tap,” The one with orange hair said. “Or figure it out. Thank you, lady.”

“She sweeps the hay, Hugh, she’s not a lady.” The prince snickered. “Milkmaid, I await my second round.”

You did your best to smile, not your best skill, but you tried for fear you might growl. You returned to the kitchen and filled a cup with milk. You skimmed the top and swept back out before your stepmother could notice you. You went back to the prince’s table and set down the cup lightly.

“Your highness.” Another man had risen and bent at the barrel to fill his stein. “Your dinner will be out, shortly.”

“Mmm, I’ve not tasted rabbit since before Easter.” He said. “Always rather unappetizing but you peasants are resourceful.”

“Your highness.”

You dipped your head and backed away. You stood by the wall and stared at the one opposite as the men’s voices garbled in your ears. You waited until you smelled the roasting meat and you marched to the kitchen. Giles divided the meat onto plates with sliced bread, chunks of cheese and slightly singed potatoes.

You took two and went to the front room to serve. You placed one before the prince first, he watched you with a smirk as he leaned back in his chair and you set the other down carefully. You made another two trips until the table was full and the men were chewing between their bawdy words.

Your father appeared shortly after and asked how the men liked the food. All but the prince kept chewing and grunted in delight. Loki however made a comment about the chewiness of the meat. He was likely right but this wasn’t exactly a royal castle. It was a roadside inn where most of the patrons patched their clothing and would settle for a stick of salted meat and moldy bread.

When their plates were empty, you cleared them and dumped them in the basin in the kitchen. Celeste fretted over whipping the cream as her pastries cooled. She dolloped the cream onto them and acknowledged you with a snort.

“That prince is handsome but a right arse.” She muttered. “Your father said he didn’t like the rabbit. I mixed the seasoning myself.”

“Mm,” You took two plates and turned away. “Well you don’t have to tend to him.”

“If I was your age, he might just like that,” She snipped. “If you didn’t look like you were chewing on salt, he might give you a second glance.”

You didn’t respond and carried on. You delivered the six dishes in several trips and refilled a few steins as the men dug in. The barrel was close to empty, the cask too. They’d made quick work of your father’s meagre fare.

The prince beckoned you over, as he had many times, two fingers flicking you over as your father hovered in the next room by the counter. You went to him and lowered your chin as you recited a “your highness.”

“I would hope to retire soon. A bath should be drawn as well.” He bid.

“Certainly, I’ll have Godwin--”

“You,” He pointed at you with a long finger. “You’re a strong girl, you can handle it yourself.”

“With all due respect, your highness, I think it more appropriate--”

“I think I gave you an order,” He stood and reached to his belt and dug around in his purse. “And it would not go unrewarded. Good service never does.” He flipped the coin then held it out to you. You glared at it.

“Your highness,” Your father approached. “Is there an issue?”

“Not at all, I was only requesting that your daughter draw my bath for the evening.” He smirked. “I did offer her compensation for the task.”

“And she will tend to that immediately,” You father took the coin and your hand and pressed them together. “Right, daughter? You might get the water boiling.”

“Yes, father.” You bit down. “Your highness.”

You drew your hand away and bowed your head. You backed away and quickly skirted off to the kitchen. You snapped at Giles to grab the big pot and send Godwin for water. Celeste grinned up at you as she bit into one of the pastries.

“He is demanding, isn’t he? I’m almost ready to see my own bed for the night since my duties are all done.” She taunted.

“You might do better there. Out of the way of those who actually work.” You jibed.

She flinched and blew cream at you angrily. You kept clear of the mess and Godwin returned with the big pot of water. It was hung in the large fireplace and you waited listlessly for it to boil.

You lugged the first pot up and dumped it into the long tub in the chambers set out for the prince. You descended and repeated the process; another pot up the stairs, steaming up your arms.

The door was closed that time and you knocked with your toe. The prince opened it, his leather vest half unbuttoned.

“Ah, I did think there would be more to it,” He sneered.

“Your highness.” You said.

He backed up to let you through and you poured the pot into the tub, careful not to splash yourself with the water. He let you back out and your third pot was soon shaking over the flames. When you returned to him again, his vest was gone and his tunic hung low on his chest.

The fourth, and his belt was gone, his tunic too, and his undershirt was all that covered his torso. The fifth, his boots gone, socks too. The sixth, leggings slung over the single chair and he stood in only his undershirt. It hung to his thigh and you feared it might shift a little too much.

“Would you like some cold water to ease the heat, your highness?” You asked as you turned back to the door.

He was quick, his long legs carried him to the door before you could reach it. He caught the wood and blocked you from the hall.

“I like it hot.” He said. “You can set the pot down and tend to my bath.”

“I have, your highness.” You insisted.

“You’ve filled it, yes,” His brow slanted. “But since I’ve traveled without my attendant, I haven’t anyone to scrub me clean and your inn has done little to cleanse me of the filth of the road.”

“You paid me to bring you water--”

“I paid you a pretty coin for that then,” He interjected, “And I paid your father enough that he told me you are free of your other tasks for the night. You will see to me.” He pushed the door closed. “I know you’ve likely never met a prince before, most certainly haven’t. There’s only two of us.” He loomed over you. “But I trust you know a prince’s word is as good as law.”

He pushed himself away and spun away from you. Your eyes flew up as he grabbed his undershirt and ripped it up over his head. The fabric fluttered to the floor and you clutched the handle of the pot. Your father would sell you like some cattle; you were only surprised he’d waited for a prince to do so.

“Well, put that pot down and grab a sponge. I will soak a while first but I expect you to be prepared. Diligent.” He hummed as he leaned back in the hot water. “I know you are only used to common merchants.”

You were silent. You placed the pot on the floor but stayed by the door. You slowly moved along the wall and went to the pail in the corner of the room next to the low table. You bent and took the sponge from within and the spouted wooden cup. You lingered in the corner and dreaded the moment he would call to you.

“I must admit, I know little of your...bearing. I do tend to avoid the unwashed masses.” The water moved as he spoke. “I mean, your ilk don’t bathe very much, do they?”

“Every Sunday after chapel.” You said evenly. “We gather at the river.”

“We? All of you? Like beasts.” He laughed.

“The women. Children, too. The men bathe during the week.” You explained. “But I suppose a prince might wash more often.”

“I do find the hot water as calming as it is cleansing,” He replied. “Why, it is Thursday. You worked hard today. Another few days is long to wait.”

You squeezed the sponge and pressed it to the cup.

“A prince must be generous,” He began slyly. “So for this day my act of royal charity is to share with you, a common girl, my bath.”

“Your highness, I don’t think--”

“I did not ask and it is unseemly to deny a prince his favour.” He rebuked. “So you get over here and you wash yourself.” He looked over his shoulder dangerously. “I would rather you clean.”

You crossed the room and kept your back to the prince as you passed and stood at the other end of the tub. You placed the cup by the tub and tucked the sponge inside. You straightened and untied your apron. You moved to put it on the seat of the chair. Then you unlaced the collar of your dress and paused. You took a breath before you pulled it over your head.

You bent to loosen your boots. Your stockings were as reluctantly shed. You rose, left with only your shift. The water swirled noisily. Your father had never been much of one. He worked you morning to night, he never thanked you for a deed you did, and he barely noticed your presence unless it served his needs. You weren’t surprised, nor disappointed, you were only annoyed at the circumstance.

You drew your shift up your legs and bunched it in your hands. You tore it off in a final swoop of resignation. You stood, your chest rising and falling, as you stared at the far wall. You gritted your teeth and forced down the nerves.

“Well, that was… dramatic,” He remarked. “But really, the water is bound to cool before you touch it.”

You spun around and marched to the tub. You reached to the brim but refused to look at the water or him. You lifted a leg over the edge and he let out a hum. You lowered your other leg into the steaming water as he sat up.

“Go on,” He said. “Clean yourself. I can smell the sty on you.”

You bent over the side and grabbed the sponge from cup. You focused on wetting it and scrubbing at your skin. You stretched out your arms, lifted one leg then the other, and rubbed your chest raw. Your eyes clung to the ceiling. The water shifted and the shadows around you did too.

He stood and grabbed your hand. He guided it to his chest and kept the sponge moving in circles. You looked at his face as he smirked at you. His other hand tickled your side. He let go of you and you kept going; across his shoulders, his neck, his arms, his chest, his stomach.

He caught your wrist and squeezed until you dropped the sponge. He pushed your palm to his member; it was hard as he slid his hand around yours and bent your fingers. His touch danced up your back and settled behind your neck as he pulled you close.

“I know you’ve never touched a prince like this before,” He said. “But what about another man? Hmm?”

You gulped as you looked him in the eyes. You shook your head defiantly. He moved your hand up then back down. His cheek twitched and he let out a thick breath. He kept your hand moving along his member as his grip tightened on your neck. He leaned in until his lips almost met yours.

“I’ve never had a woman, princesses, duchesses, ladies, queens, even, look at my the way you do,” He snarled. “And it has me mad.”

“I don’t know what you mean--”

“You despise me. You don’t even know me,” His lips brushed yours. “But you know I am a prince, I am your superior, and you curl your lip at me.”

“I don’t--”

He pressed his lips to yours and kissed you hungrily as the steam floated around your bodies. He kept your grasp firm on him as he carried the motion steadily. He groaned into your mouth and suddenly let go. He held your head with both hands as if to devour you. You stumbled in the tub, held up only by his unbreakable grip.

He parted as his long fingers framed your jaw. His green eyes burned into yours as you gaped at him. He kissed you again, this time nibbling your lip as he drew away. He snarled as he did and his hand slipped down your shoulders and lingered on your chest. He pinched one nipple then the other and his fingers crawled lower.

His other hand settled on your throat as his finger poked between your legs. You squeezed your thighs together and he gave a growl. It was a warning. He slid along your folds and teased your sensitive bud. You gasped as he was close to choking you entirely.

He prodded along your entrance and delved inside. You nearly bit your tongue as you closed your mouth and grabbed his arm to keep from slipping. Your eyes rounded as he grinned. He moved his hand slowly as you felt a ripple along your thighs.

“Inexperienced but not innocent,” He purred. “Darling, you feel wonderful.”

You clawed at his bicep as he rocked his hand against you, your body shaking in tandem. You wanted to hate it. You had to hate it and yet it felt so good.

“Turn around,” He commanded as he ripped his hand from between your legs. “Now.”

He released you entirely and you stumbled back and caught yourself on the side of the sub. He stroked himself as he watched you and spun his finger in the air. You turned, slowly. You leaned heavily on the side of the tub as your legs felt likely jelly and your core pulsed hungrily. You wanted more and yet you wanted to run away.

He slapped your ass. Hard. Your knees buckled. He gripped your hips and steadied you. He stepped closer and rubbed his member against your ass. His hand ran along your flesh and he guided his tip down. He reached your entrance and inhaled suddenly. He held himself there, barely touching you as his fingers curled into your hip.

“It’ll hurt. At first.” He rasped. “But that only makes the pleasure…” He slid past your entrance slowly and you stretched around him. You squeaked in shock. “...greater.”

The deeper he got, the harder it was to measure your voice. He was right about the pain. More, more, more; you feared it wouldn’t stop. When he did, when he reached his limit, you were bent over, hands on the side of the tub, bracing yourself as you were afraid your legs would collapse.

He pulled back and slammed into you again. You cried out, loudly, and clapped your hand over your mouth. He chuckled and did it again. His wet flesh reverberated against yours. He did it, again, again, again. Each time he paused and basked in the sound; basked in your murmurs as you struggled not to scream.

“You are tight, darling,” He groaned.

You quivered and held onto the tub as your body was jolted by his. He rutted into you quicker and quicker. He was insatiable and each time he thrust, his hunger seemed to deepen. His voice turned animalistic and his fingers got firmer around your hips. The water splashed around your legs and added to the medley of lurid sounds.

You arched your back as the waves swelled within you and you felt them cresting, ready to crash. You hissed through gritted teeth and your voice cracked as you exclaimed. The feeling was overwhelming, the sensation stifling as it filled your veins. Your eyes rolled back and you hung your head as your walls pulsed around his member.

“Ah, darling, I feel you,” His hands slipped up to your waist and he pulled you back against you as he rammed into even harder. “That’s it… bend for your prince.”

He grunted as he bent over you and hooked his arm around your stomach. He stood and drew you up with him. You were on your toes as he jerked into you violently, his other hand on your chest as he pressed his cheek to yours. His voice swirled in your head and added to the heat in your core.

“That’s it, that’s it…” He chanted as his flesh slapped against yours.

You clawed at his thigh as he hammered into you and finally he slowed with a surprised cry. His hips spasmed and you felt a sudden swell of warmth inside of you. You trembled as he slowed and stilled your body. You were breathless but buoyant. You’d never felt so light yet heavy at the same time. He was the only strength left to you as he held you up.

“Well, look at you,” He tickled your stomach with his fingers. “Dirty, all over again.”

#loki #dark!loki #dark loki #loki x reader #dark loki x reader #dark!loki x reader #medieva au #au #one shot #fic #mcu #marvel #dark!fic #dark fic #prince!loki

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scripturiends · 4 years ago

Text

law school episode 9 musings

warning: very very long post ahead. i have a lot of thoughts.

hey folks — how we feeling about episode 9?

given that there are so many plotlines in the show, i’m afraid i won’t be able to extend my analysis of the episode as far as i would like, but there are three characters who stood out to me the most last night that i’d like to talk about for now:

kang dan

there’s a lot that we got to uncover about her thanks to professor yang’s trial. if i’m piecing it all together right, the basic summary of what led to her disappearance goes like this:

she was a volunteer for assemblyman ko’s campaign, but upon discovering that he was spreading fake news about his opposition, dan reported him to the authorities (i’m guessing not just the police but also the media) and became a whistleblower. assemblyman ko tried to buy her off with money, but she refused, so he attacked her where she’s most vulnerable instead — by using her family.

i’m not completely sure about this (please feel free to correct me!) but it’s either byeol is (1) the twins’ half-sister, or (2) their stepsister? it’s so hard to tell, especially since korean terms can get lost in translation in the process (i watch on netflix, if that helps). but anyway, sol and dan’s mom married someone who was abusing her, and in exchange for dan’s silence (and her fleeing), the husband signs a contract that he would stop hurting his wife.

so that’s the backbone of dan’s story. however, this still doesn’t answer a lot of things, like where seo byungju or lee manho fits into the equation, the whereabouts of their mom’s ex-husband, or why dan was sent into boston in the first place.

i usually don’t like theorizing, but i do have one: there is an ivy league school located just outside of boston — harvard. (it’s technically in cambridge but you know, i’m taking liberties here.) professor yang said in passing one episode that he thought he saw dan when he went to the school for a seminar or a talk or something. could it be that assemblyman ko offered her an education at a top school in exchange for her silence? it could explain why she gave it up all so easily. what if she took that topnotch education as a chance to prepare, so that when she came back, she had much stronger leverage to take assemblyman ko down, given the knowledge and network of connections she’ll have earned in that school?

the theory’s plausible but i might be overestimating assemblyman ko’s kindness — unless he’s insanely desperate, he might not give a damn about dan’s education. it actually benefits him more if she stayed uninformed, but still. let me know what you think about it.

yoo seungjae

in this episode, we learned a little bit more about how yoo seungjae was able to hack into the professors’ laptops, and they also confirmed some of our previous speculations about him: that his wife yujeong was an ob gyn, and so was he, and that they were trying for a baby. unfortunately, i find it all to be a bit lacking in substance. i was hoping we could get down to the nitty-gritty of why he did what he did.

i say this for one important reason: i don’t know about you guys, but i would never make such a stupid mistake in undergrad, let alone in law school. seungjae has gone to med school, so we know that he knows the repercussions of his actions. why would he go to such lengths? sure, he found an opening, he was tempted, and he took it. but he didn’t just do it once, he did it multiple times, and those offenses add up (hacking, stealing exam papers, and cheating). surely he must know that something like this can ruin careers even before they even start, and not only would he get kicked out of the school, he would also get blacklisted from the industry once he implicates himself. so we understand why he’s so hesitant to testify (especially now that his wife is pregnant).

but why did he do that in the first place? we could say he’s insecure about his skills, but he’s survived med school. how much harder could law school be for him? i just don’t think that the payoff is worth the risk. what must be so important for yoo seungjae to do all of this for? what does he get in return if he successfully pulls it off and gets straight As during his entire time in law school? who is he doing for?

i hope it runs deeper than just wanting a ‘good future’ for him and his wife and their baby or something — because he could just as easily do that as a doctor. there must be another reason he went into law.

still, though, and this is just a personal opinion, even if i did find out his entire backstory, there’s no way i could ever defend him. we see in the show how his guilt builds up (from observing how kang sol A studies so well, to his conversation with jeon yeseul in the hospital), but at this point there is no more excusing what he did. not that i ever condoned it in the first place.

we’re still in the dark about a lot of things regarding yoo seungjae. hopefully by the next episode, we get something. but until then, he is still a shady, shady man to me.

kang sol B

her screen time in this episode was short, but i still wanted to highlight her because she is pretty much a ticking time bomb.

she’s in a tight spot right now because even if she testifies about having seen the sugar packet, the prosecutor will just twist the argument by saying she colluded with a murderer just to cover up her plagiarism.

and now, seo jiho needs her help, probably for something related to his case with prosecutor jin. in exchange, she puts pressure on him to ‘confirm’ that she didn’t plagiarize in middle school, since they were schoolmates and rivals.

there may be more to this plagiarism issue than meets the eye. who knows, we might find out later on that she actually didn’t plagiarize? but given what i know now, i have no reason to believe that she didn’t. i don’t blame her specifically for that, seeing as she has to pay for the consequences for something that her awful mom forced her to do. but now that the mess has been made, i want to see how she cleans it up.

kang sol B is a very elusive character to me. the scary thing about her is that she’s on no one’s side but her own. and that’s why i think she’s a ticking time bomb.

bonus: han joonhwi

so that’s all i have for the serious stuff. as a bonus, i’d like to talk about han joonhwi and his four (4) children jeon yeseul, seo jiho, kang byeol, and min bokgi.

one of my friends brought up how it’s so funny how he’s somehow just at the right place at the right time all the time. this happened when he ran into kang sol A when she was looking for yeseul (i still think they were on the phone with each other beforehand but this is just my shipper self talking — truthfully, if the focus was shifted towards that phone call without divulging who it was, i have a feeling it might be more important later on), and when seo jiho confronted prosecutor jin. adding his elevator conversation with kang sol B, i think it just solidified what we already know: han joonhwi is a very compassionate person. but he doesn’t sacrifice his own personality just to appease them — he recognizes that these individuals have agency, and he’s just giving them the little push they need to make them realize what they need to do.

i also felt the need to bring up kang byeol. the show does such a good job of ensuring that all the solhwi scenes that we get, no matter how indulgent and “fanservice-y” they might seem, actually have a deeper purpose. again, i could go on and on about what each solhwi scene has actually contributed to the development of the plot, which is exactly why i love them so much! because all of their scenes are so meaningful. but anyway, it’s nice to see han joonhwi care so much for his, ehem, future sister-in-law.

and for min bokgi — this scene was so short, but i absolutely loved it so much (i tend to pay attention to the throwaway scenes): min bokgi is going off about how yoo seungjae is acting weird, and he says to joonhwi, “hyung, you should call him.” and joonhwi responds with, “sure. eat your food.” it’s such a fatherly thing to do and it’s such a great contrast to bokgi’s dynamic with sol A, with whom he’s so loud and vibrant, moods that both match their personalities, but with joonhwi, who is more subdued, he’s like a little kid in need of rescue from an older brother, or even a dad. ah, i love it so much. min bokgi is such an underrated character. i wish he had more screen time. (if he doesn’t get a central ep, well, you guys know where i’m going with this, right? it means i’ll give it to him myself.)

so that’s it for now! i’m sorry i went on rambling again, but if there’s anything noteworthy in this post that you think is worth discussing, please do tell! if there’s anything that you found thought-provoking in the episode that i didn’t get to touch up on, let me know as well!

i personally don’t make any theories about the overarching plot myself, seeing as by the time the new episode comes out, we get fed information that renders the theory useless. still, that doesn’t mean we should stop coming up with our own ideas. sometimes, the theories are more interesting than the canon itself.

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shoichee · 4 years ago

Note

Hi, congrats on 100!! Could I please request 27 for Kasamatsu? Thank you very much, and good luck on your finals! :D

Kasamatsu x Reader

27. “If we get caught I’m blaming you”

Word Count: 4416

prompt list here

Note: the Replace novel starring the Kaijō team was a HUGE inspiration for this, and dear anon who requested this, I hope you’re still around;; I’m sorry it took so long EEEEE But yes! I did okay on my finals anon! I hope you’re doing well too~

@knb-kreations

»»—————　☼　—————««

“If we get caught, I’m blaming you.”

“Look it’ll be quick… n-no one’s here as far as I know.”

“B-But…”

“J-Just… be quiet for a s-second, okay?”

“H-H-Huh?! Ah…”

Huh? Kise stopped himself before leaning closer to the edge of the building, slightly doubting his ears. Wasn’t that Senpai’s voice? With someone else…? Alone?

“Oh come on, why are you even block the wa—oh, ohhhhhh, are there any cute girls nearby?—”

“Shh,” Kise hissed, harshly waving his hand over Moriyama’s face to give a signal to stay quiet. “Listen…”

“A-Are you done, Kasamatsu-san…?”

“I-I-I… uh, just…um…”

Kise and Moriyama shared a look of shock… then registration… and finally a look of that spelled nothing but trouble. Immediately, they both simultaneously crouched to squat and share their “realizations” together in hushed whispers.

“Quick—when was the last time Senpai talked to anyone outside of basketball?”

“Hmmmmmm, certainly none of the girls I’ve tried to approach.”

“No, that’s obviously not what I meant!” Kise said, facepalming. “Anyone in your year that he’s been talking to? Maybe anyone in class?” Moriyama continued to hum in deep concentration before he lifted his index finger in a “eureka” moment.

“He’s been talking to (y/n)-san in the hallways recently!” he quietly exclaims, pounding his fist against his open palm to emphasize. “Though their conversations have sounded nothing remotely romantic. No charm, I say.” He struck a pose after to imply that he himself was the charismatic individual.

“.... Right,” he deadpanned, expecting nothing less from his quite… eccentric upperclassman. “Welp, now that we narrowed it down who he might be talking to, I don’t wanna spy on them… but I’m really curious if it’s really this (y/n)-san you mentioned.”

“Well,” Moriyama pouted with a grumble. “One peek wouldn’t hurt.”

“I guess you’re right…”

Kise cautiously scans his surroundings and gauges the situation “clear” to slowly peer from behind the corner of the building, where both of them had been seeking shelter from for the past several minutes. Moriyama follows suit, poking his head out just underneath Kise to see.

Kasamatsu’s back mostly covered your figure, but the view of what was happening did not slip by either Kaijō players’ eyes. He had his arms partially around your head while you were pressed up against his chest. You were gripping onto his loose blazer on his sides to presumably stabilize yourself while Kasamatsu was… fiddling with something on top of your hair? Even so, there’s no denying that the both of you were currently very, very physically close.

“Look… d-does it really take that long to take out petals from hair strands?” you mumbled, looking up at Kasamatsu’s face while trying not to move your head to avoid disrupting his “handiwork.” “I can do this myself....”

“W-W-Well, you can’t risk yourself being unkempt when you go back to class.” Kasamatsu gave a poor attempt at trying to lecture you, judging from his stammers and the way he slightly turns his head to the side to avoid your curious scrutiny. “It’s more thorough this… way. It’s the w-week where these blossoms fall rampantly… you have to be careful where you’re walking under…” In turning his face slightly towards Kise’s and Moriyama’s direction, his exposed flushed face puts the cherry blossom trees around them to shame.

So that’s what he was doing. Kise narrowed his eyes in pity at his captain, and Moriyama expressed a similar expression at Kasamatsu’s struggles. The poor captain’s hands were shaking non-stop. Not only that, he’s been darting his eyes everywhere since you’ve been gazing up at him from below. No wonder he’s been standing there unable to quickly pluck off the petals.

“Should we leave our captain alone to let him lead his own destiny?”

“What are you even talking about, Moriyama-se—”

“W-Whoa!! What a(l)e you [guys doing] he(l)e? Why a(l)e you sneaking a(l)ound (r)ike that?”

Kise and Moriyama instantly whip their heads behind in a panic, seeing a curious Hayakawa jogging up to be with his teammates, and the both instantly pounce on the poor rebound player to slap desperate hands over his mouth.

“Sh-Shhhhhhhhh!”

“Mrmpgh—?!! Lef—What [is going] on?”

“Hayakawa-senpai, please—just be quiet for a sec!”

The ruckus causes Kasamatsu and you to break out of the oddly intimate moment to face towards the direction of the sudden noises. After looking at each other questionably, albeit briefly and with stiff eye contact, there was an unspoken consensus for you two to investigate behind the corner of the building. Imagine both of you guys’ surprise when you two see a tangle of limbs between the Kaijō starter players. Kobori somehow arrived prior, separating poor Hayakawa from his two assailants.

“What… What the hell are you guys doing?!”

“Kasamatsu-senpai!! Is it t(l)ue [that you] and (y/n)-san a(l)e da—mrmf—!”

“Ahaha… we didn’t expect to see you here, Senpai~” Kise smiles with a slight grimace, hand still firm on Hayakawa’s mouth.

“It must be fate, yes surely!” Moriyama confidently speaks, flipping his fringe. Both Kise and Moriyama drop Hayakawa and straighten themselves up. “How else would we encounter such a situation as unique as this?”

“Why are you all here?” Kasamatsu sputters indignantly, but everyone (except you) saw how horrendously red his face was. You peek out from behind his back curiously, noting how Kasamatsu did a 180 in his personality compared to whenever he spoke with you.

“Kasamatsu-san… are they your teammates? You seem very close with them.”

“That’s—”

“Now, now, Kasamatsu-san… we’re only here because we were concerned where you went is all,” Kobori reassures a flustered captain. Kise only stares at him incredulously, but it seems that Kasamatsu, as usual, buys into Kobori’s naivete.

“I see…”

“Wow… the fact that your entire group came to look for you is very sweet of them,” you chime. “They really care for you, Kasamatsu-san…” When you elbow him at his ribs playfully, he immediately straightened himself like a plank.

“N-Nn.”

“Well… it’s almost time for class, so I have to go, see you all!”

“W-Wait, your… uh, hair, um—”

“I can get out the rest of the petals in the restroom, but thank you for trying! I’ll see you later!”

“R-Right…” He puts up his hand in a shy wave as you dash away, but he immediately drops it once you are out of the vicinity to hound on his teammates. “Were you watching this entire time? And stop with the looks—that’s creepy as hell!”

“Sooooooo…”

“Senpai, could it be that you and…”

“Kasamatsu-senpai! I’m (l)ooting fo(l) you!”

“N-N-No!!” he denies, ready to hold an iron fist to stop their antics, but Kobori gently holds onto his raised arm.

“Alright, let’s calm down a bit,” Kobori reasons with a placid smile. “I’m sure we’re all a bit curious because you hardly talk to anyone outside of basketball, right?”

“Kobori…”

“Have you heard of the prerequisites of the key elements of the blooming spring, Kasamatsu?” Moriyama asks, immediately drawing confused looks towards the 3rd-year.

“Moriyama-senpai, we have no clue what you’re talking about,” Kise says, asking the question that’s occupying everyone's mind.

“The key elements…! In the season of new birth, to enrich the experience, they are ‘hanami,’ ‘plums,’ and ‘spring cleaning!’ Of course, the prerequisite to these would be…”

“Please stop—”

“... to have a cute date.”

“... This is ridiculous,” Kasamatsu says irritatedly. “I’m going to class.” He immediately speed-walks to the adjacent building, leaving a scheming group behind.

“You know, if it’s true that he does like (y/n)-san, shouldn’t we help him? It’s the least we can do for our captain,” Kobori suggested.

“That sounds too troublesome,” Kise frowns, averting his gaze to also start to walk away, but Hayakawa immediately latches to his arm to pull him back.

“Don’t be (r)ike that! We have to do this as a team effo(l)t!”

“How did it become like this?!”

“Well…” Moriyama audibly ponders, stroking his chin. “If we make this successful for Kasamatsu, perhaps this can be a template for our own love lives! A sign that we will meet our fated ones this spring!”

“Yes, yes! Mo(l)iyama-senpai is abso(r)ute(r)y (l)ight!”

Oh god, Kise mentally sighs. What has he gotten himself into?

———

“Why are you guys surrounding me like that? Did you not hear me say that we have to change quickly? We can’t have the lockers for long today, considering that the janitor will come to do their routine clean-ups.”

“According to my online research,” Moriyama states, “this mint-scented deodorant will guarantee mutual attraction from the person you like.”

“Wha—?”

“Ignoring what Moriyama-senpai said,” Kise elaborates, scratching his head. “Is it really true that you like (y/n)-san? Otherwise, they’ll keep getting the wrong idea, senpai.”

Kasamatsu gapes like a fish, pulling his shirt collar as he starts to sweat and flush.

“Kise! Be a bit tactfu(r)! You do not unde(l)stand how to app(l)oach this!”

“What’s there to understand, Hayakawa-senpai!? It’s better to be direct about this, or otherwise we’ll be doing this for nothing!”

“Kise may be right,” Moriyama muses. “To be honest gives a feeling of a fresh start in the spring. Kasamatsu, you should follow this example and leave all the baggage behind to obtain a new start.” Kasamatsu could only stand there glued to his spot as his teammates continued to corner him, blocking any possible route to the locker exit.

“I… I…” he gulps. “Th—... that’s… I… like…” His voice dwindles to the softest whisper, but it easily resonates throughout the locker room, where the team had fallen silent in straining to hear and hang onto his every syllable.

“So you do like (y/n)-san,” Moriyama exclaimed, the first one to break the silence. “I see, I didn’t think they were your type.”

“H-Hey…?! Can you not say it like that!?”

“You can’t distort the truth, though. Anyways, you should chat with (y/n)-san nicely.”

“I already do!!” Kasamatsu half-shouts, but he immediately bows his head down shyly. “Wh-What’s a… good topic, you think… to talk to (y/n)-san…?”

“Huh? Just normal topics,” Kise replies, not sure what Kasamatsu meant by the question.

“What’s… normal?”

“Just talk to them like you’ve always done, senpai.”

“Y-Yes, but… h-how can I talk to hint that I l-l-l-like… never mind this is hopeless—”

“Ask them to come watch ou(l) next match [and have] (y/n)-san chee(l) fo(l) you!!”

“N-No! Anyone would run away from that!”

Their conversation was suddenly interrupted when the locker doors opened with a bang, with a very weary janitor standing with his equipment on standby. With a flurry of apologies to the janitor, Kasamatsu recovers himself and ushers everyone out before bidding him a good evening. Walking out of campus several minutes later in silence, Kobori breaks the silence.

“Why don’t we help you, Kasamatsu? Maybe through different methods you will find the best way to ask for a date. Perhaps asking for a cup of tea would be sufficient…?”

“I’m not gonna involve myself with this! No way in hell!”

“Senpai, so you’re just gonna wait and let it fester—u-uwah?!” Moriyama immediately sprays the mint-scented deodorant down Kise’s back to silence him before turning back to Kasamatsu with a straight face.

“What if someone else steals (y/n)-san away for their own elements of spring? After all, it is the perfect atmosphere for them to communicate with the person you like with pickup techniques, with high chances of success.”

“N-No way (y/n)-san would just go along with a random stranger!”

“Who knows? Maybe they’re more suave and have that particular charisma that they’re secretly weak to.”

“Moriyama-senpai, you might be going too far…”

“Kasamatsu, he’s right though, if you hang around (y/n)-san more, not only would you learn more about them, but you’ll protect them from potential unwanted people.” Kobori’s calm voice rang louder above the clamors of the starter players, and everyone immediately looked to Kasamatsu for his response. Kise mentally sighs at how Kobori always manages to misinterpret Moriyama’s words.

“Fine—but only to make sure (y/n)-san will be safe! Don’t get any funny ideas!”

———

Praise. Make them laugh. Praise. Make them laugh. Say something interesting. Say something interesting. Praise. Use a normal topic.

Kasamatsu stands at his usual spot, waiting for you to leave class and meet up with him after school. Only this time, his hands grow clammy, his thick brows deeply furrowed as he wills himself to stop shaking. His teammates spying on him from behind the hallway corner certainly wasn’t helping him either.

“I told you, there’s no way I’m gonna involve myself with this!”

“Come on, Kasamatsu,” Moriyama sighed, shaking the mint-scented deodorant on hand. “We talked about this yesterday. You agreed to this, remember?”

“It was to make sure no one weird bothers (y/n)-san! Why do I have to go along with this?!”

“So you’re fine if I hold (y/n)-san’s hand in the name of destiny…”

“To hell with that!—argh—you!”

Moriyama immediately sprayed the can on the captain’s neck, watching his spine jolt and jump before he was met with an intense glare.

“You’re the captain, right? Come on, you have to show us how it’s done. We all want to see the ways to push the boundaries of romance. Who would lead us if you don’t?”

“What kinda—”

“I ag(l)ee with Mo(l)iyama-senpai! Take the (r)ead, Kasamatsu-senpai!”

“Wouldn’t Kise be someone better to learn from if you wanted to learn how to hit on people?!”

“Senpai, I’ve never done such a thing in my entire life.”

“Kasamatsu, I’m sure Moriyama is just telling you how much we all admire and look up to you. Naturally, we want to see how our captain fares in these situations. Besides, as a team, if something happens, we’ll be there to cover up for you.”

“Well… if you put it like that Kobori… all I have to do is talk to (y/n)-san… right?”

“That’s the spi(l)it!”

“... Kasamatsu-san? Helloooooo…?”

You wave a hand repeatedly over his face, and he immediately blinks and flinches back when you pull him back to the present. He’d been standing still for the past five minutes.

“I-I-I-I…”

“Are you okay? You’re all tensed up… if something’s bothering you, wanna talk about it?”

“W-W-Well… wh-what’s… up.” Normal topic, normal topic.

“Well, nothing much really,” you say, smoothing out your blazer. “I got out the petals but barely made it to class in the nick of time!” You laugh at your own recollection, and he immediately flames a radiant flush.

“N-nn.”

“Is it me… or is our captain…. really, really stiff right now…”

“Shhh.”

You perk up at the noise and slightly tilt to the left of Kasamatsu to discern the source of the hushed whispers… only to spy a conspicuous group of basketball players. You merely raise a brow at your discovery, but you return your attention back to Kasamatsu before he notices your change in gaze. The Kaijō teammates were too busy shushing each other to notice your attention on them.

“Ah, yes! Kasamatsu-san, you just had your trigonometry test right? Those identities and proofs are always so difficult to remember… how do you think you did?”

“G-Good.”

“Wow, that was too quick of a response! I didn’t know you were that confident about it—obviously not a bad thing if you studied for it.”

“N-nn.” Come on, say something interesting. Interesting topic. Something you like. “U-U-Uh… w-weather…?”

“The weather…?” You look outside the window in confusion before you make a face of realization. “Oh! Like how’s the weather?”

“N-nn.”

“Well, it has been a bit windy with all those branches and leaves flying around, but I think it accompanies the refreshing atmosphere of spring very nicely, don’t you think?” You turn back to face Kasamatsu, who’s been slowly bowing his head down gradually more and more the entire time to avoid scrutiny.

“N-nn.”

“You’ve been… really quiet since lunch. I’m serious, if something happened… is there anything I can do to help?”

“Kasamatsu, take advantage of the elements of spring! The elements of spr—”

“Moriyama-senpai, shut… up…!”

“Hey—what are you—?”

“Wait!! Kise! Don’t push, [or else] we a(l)e gonna fa(r)(r)—!”

“Shit—”

Right on cue, the gradual leaning weight from the three players on Hayakawa at the bottom gave way, and everyone tumbled out smack dab into plain sight. Kobori was the only one who managed to break his fall and stayed behind the corner, holding onto Kise in a failed attempt to stop him from exposing his presence. Kasamatsu breaks out of his shy stupor and turns around to see awkward smiles and chuckles.

“Y-Y-You guys—?!”

“Ahaha… sorry Senpai… the floor was a bit… slippery?”

As Kasamatsu forgets about you in dropkicking Kise, you note how the other upperclassmen had their own little quirks in interacting with the captain. Seeing how assertive and gutsy he was compared to talking with you makes you feel unbelievably warm. Little did anyone know, you held a hand to your face as you turned away to let out a chortle before you collected yourself again.

“Ah, I guess I’ll be going now! Your practice will start soon right? I’m sure your friends were only waiting for you… Well, I’ll see you tomorrow, Kasamatsu-san!”

“W-Wait—” Kasamatsu drops Kise from his collar before he turns to you, but in making eye contact he immediately loses courage again. “I-I-I… s-see… you.”

“Of course!” You give a close-eyed smile before you leave.

“You missed the opportunity to set up the atmosphere,” Moriyama sighs, staring wistfully at the mint-scented deodorant. “Was the mint scent not enough?”

“It was going fine until you crashed in!”

“Now, now, there’s always a next time…”

As the upperclassmen continue to bicker and banter (mostly one-sided from Kasamatsu’s end), Kise, who was dropped on the floor by Kasamatsu moments prior, silently stares at the direction you left. Did you leave because you knew how embarrassed Kasamatsu was from that incident?

———

For the next few days, Kasamatsu has been quite clipped with you, reduced to mere “nn’s” and “no’s” during your conversations, and Kise doesn’t know whether you’re just as oblivious as Kobori or whether you’re ignoring it to spare his remaining shreds of dignity. He mentally sighs at how oddly persistent Moriyama is about this even though the captain refused all of his ridiculous “suggestions” every time.

“I believe Moriyama is trying to help out Kasamatsu as a close friend,” Kobori had said, when Kise grumbled about his tenacity. “He just wants the best for him.”

Even so, Kise still heaves a sigh when he sees Moriyama and Hayakawa with an agitated Kasamatsu, knowing that whatever is going on won’t be smooth-sailing. He had no choice but to join them when Kobori sneaked up on him to sling an arm around his shoulders and called over the trio.

“Huh… what’s up with Kasamatsu-senpai?”

“Ou(l) captain is af(l)aid [because someone] da(l)ed to app(l)oach (y/n)-san (l)ight now!”

“Huh? Is that really a problem?” Kise shoots a tired look at the rebound player, but Moriyama solemnly sends a gaze to where he assumed was where you were at right now.

“I knew my online research would come in handy…! Someone also has the knowledge of taking advantage of the perfect atmosphere! Look at the intimacy shared between the two…! The undeniable auras exhibited by them, and elements of spring they embody together!”

“What the hell! No way!” Even through the denials, Kasamatsu looks visibly distressed about the possible “new revelations” between you and what looks to be a close companion of yours.

“I’m gonna have to agree with Senpai on this one, Moriyama-senpai.”

“(R)ook! They finished ta(r)king and (y/n)-san waved them [off with] a smi(r)e!” Kasamatsu whips his head at the speed of light to see you sending them off with the smile Hayakawa spoke of as your friend exits the campus gate. At his dilemma, Moriyama gently nudges his arm to encourage him to go talk to you.

“... According to my online research, talking under sunny weather with a fresh scent is the formula to having the desirable spring experience.”

“Oh shut up, will ya?” Kasamatsu mumbles half-heartedly, but he slowly walks in your direction before he stops to turn back. “You better not interrupt.”

“We [will be all] the way back he(l)e to suppo(l)t you!”

With a final sigh to expel his nerves, he gives a nervous smile to his teammates before coolly walking until you turn to face him once you hear his footsteps. Almost immediately though, his calmness easily dissipates into thin air once again, and his teammates only look on in dismay and worry from afar.

“Er…” Come on, just be direct. Talk normal.

“Kasamatsu-san?”

“Y-You were… d-datin—I mean t-talking, with… someone…”

“Oh, you saw? Yeah, I asked them to meet up with me here actually.”

“Is… that so?”

“Mmhm, I asked for their notes to compare to mine because I feel like I can’t get a hand on the subject sometimes.” Kasamatsu finally finds his voice for the first time in a while when the conversation finally re-enters familiar platonic territory.

“Was it… trigonometry? I did, um, do well on it last time, so…” Normal topics. Normal topics.

“I know,” you laugh. “You told me that a few days ago, remember?”

“W-W-Well…” He coughs to clear his throat and find his voice. “Y-You could’ve… a-a-asked—er…” You patiently wait for him to try to finish his sentence, and out of the corner of your eye you accidentally made eye contact with Kise from the distance.

Kise didn’t expect for you to notice the group even from a sizable distance away. He stayed still for a few seconds to make sure the shared eye contact wasn’t a fluke. Seeing how Kasamatsu was standing there like a statue again, he puts a flat hand next to his lips to discreetly mouth out:

He’s jealous.

To his surprise, you caught onto his cues, giving a subtle yet playful smile of your own before you carefully mouth out:

I know.

The others don’t seem to notice the secret exchange, all too focused on the poor captain bowing his head down out of extreme shyness. Kise doesn’t even know why he’s doing this, but perhaps Kobori was right that it’s only right for the team to help out their hardworking captain.

“Ah, Kasamatsu-san?”

“N-Nn?” He lifts his head up abruptly at the call of his name, and he turns red from mortification at the realization that he stood there like a dunce for the past several minutes. He doesn’t even have time to react to you stepping closer to him with an outstretched hand, and he stands motionless as you slightly fiddle with his cropped hair before you pull out a vivid cherry blossom petal.

“Remember what you told me?” you muse. “That ‘you can’t risk yourself being unkempt?’ After all, you’re right… it is the week where these blossoms fall rampantly… Must I also remind you to be careful where you’re walking under?”

At this point, Kasamatsu is sputtering like a broken engine, his mind barely functioning enough for him to think about putting a hand over his face in a desperate attempt to cover his frenzy.

“I, um, I…”

“Ah… can I ask you something first instead, Kasamatsu-san?” you gently interrupt him, and he flits his gaze back to you before staring at the ground again, and you took that as silent confirmation. “A-Are… are you free to go cherry blossom watching this weekend…?”

He snaps his head up in shock, only to see you slightly pink after that slight stutter in your question. It was your turn to avoid looking at his face.

“N-nn, I’m-I’m free.”

“Ah, that’s great…!” You muster your own courage to hold his clammy hands at his sides. “Can I ask to confirm if this is a romantic date between us?”

“Y-Yes,” he says in a hurry and you only laugh at his shyness. But his piercing eyes focus on your figure before he frees his hands from your loose clasp and reaches out to you, albeit with a slight shake in his hand still, before he clumsily takes out a petal from your hair. “It was… stuck.”

“See?” you shyly tease. “I knew it shouldn’t take you long to take out petals from hair.”

He completely lost his cool in front of you again.

You didn’t really care though… not when he looked absolutely endearing with the onslaught of petals settling on top of his head and shoulders to complement his flushed face.

———

Bonus:

“So are you two dating now?” Kise asks you. You both coincidentally met up at a hallway intersection the next week.

“Well, I think that’s a bit too fast,” you inwardly laugh. “You know how he is more than anyone.” Kise gives a light chuckle of his own before he asks you the question that’s been on his mind for a while.

“Hey (y/n)-senpai, how did you know Kasamatsu-senpai liked you?”

“Eh?”

“It was pretty clear from that time last week that you knew how he felt.”

“Ah… well, remember when he was… trying… to tidy up my hair? When you all spied on us?” you say, continuing when Kise gives a slightly sheepish nod. “It felt… different from how we normally talked. I’m sure he felt it harder than I did. I’ve always been nervous talking to him, but… seeing him so flustered and shy like that made me connect the dots, and then, I became more at ease and knew to be patient, realizing that he does hold a degree of feelings for me. I just didn’t know when was the right time for us to take it a step further.”

“I see. Yeah, that makes sense.”

“I must say, please send my thanks for the rest of the team. I think without you guys, this wouldn’t have happened as smoothly… or quickly.” At your words, Kise only sweatdrops as he remembers Moriyama’s antics, Hayakawa’s over-enthusiasm, and Kobori’s good-natured naivete.

“I’ll… send your regards to them.”

“... Why do you look so hesitant?”

———

End note: the cherry blossom falling season only occurs in the first to second week of April, which would conflict with the timeline of this scenario IRL. The Japanese new school year also coincides with this week, and as 3rd-years, Kasamatsu, Moriyama, Kobori, and the reader would be college freshmen instead. If I wrote it in terms of “last year” with the 3rd-years as 2nd-years, then Kise would still be in Teiko. So for convenience sake… ignore the “realism” in the setting for this :^)

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melanielocke · 3 years ago

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Lost in the shadows - Chapter 7

AO3

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Taglist @nott-the-best @foxglove-airmid @alastair-esfandiyar-carstairs1 @justanormaldemon @styxdrawings

Lucie’s parents were putting away the groceries when the four of them entered the house. Thomas quickly texted his parents he was with the Herondales and wasn’t sure when he’d be back. Will and Tessa had noticed something was not right immediately, and while Will was making some tea, Tessa sat down on the couch with her daughter.

‘What happened, Lu?’ she asked.

Lucie recounted the story of seeing Jesse Blackthorn, and Thomas couldn’t help but think it was all connected somehow. She had never seen Jesse until now, just after a washing woman had told him his grandfather’s debt was not paid. That was not a coincidence.

‘What if Jesse came back from being dead somehow?’ Thomas asked.

‘None of you saw him, did you?’ Lucie asked.

Thomas, Cordelia and Alastair all said no.

‘He was a ghost,’ Lucie said. ‘So he’s still very much dead. And he didn’t stay around to talk. I thought he was going to, I thought he wanted to, but then he was gone. And I don’t understand any of it. Why here, why now? I thought he’d moved on to wherever dead people are supposed to go, and I don’t think I’ve ever encountered a ghost who’d returned from there.’

‘You might not have been wherever Jesse’s ghost was before,’ Thomas offered, but Lucie determinedly shook her head.

‘He would have come for me,’ Lucie said. ‘I know what we had wasn’t really romance, but he was still a dear friend and he would not have left me. I looked everywhere for him. And he’s never been here in his life, it makes no sense for him to come to this place.’

‘It must be connected to my grandfather’s debts,’ Thomas said, and he recounted the story for Cordelia and Lucie. He suspected Will and Tessa already knew most of it, but Lucie and Cordelia knew nothing and Thomas was afraid telling Lucie Jesse’s death might not have been an accident was a bit much. It was an odd sort of guilt Thomas felt while discussing Jesse. It wasn’t his fault exactly, that Jesse had died, but perhaps if he’d died Jesse would have survived and gotten better instead. Why did he deserve to live and not Jesse? Why had he survived?

‘Thomas, perhaps you should ask your father to contact Tatiana,’ Tessa suggested. ‘Perhaps she knows more.’

Will shook his head though. ‘Tatiana is mad as mouse trapped in a teapot,’ he said. ‘She never took her father’s death well and blamed it on anyone involved in the matter. Me, Jem, even her own brothers. And when Jesse died, I think she decided we were all evil and out to ruin her life. She thinks we turned her brothers against her, killed her father, and let her son die. She might even blame Lucie for Jesse’s death since she never approved of them spending time together. I don’t want her anywhere near you, no matter what information she might have.’

‘My father has been trying to call her and has left several messages. So far nothing,’ Thomas said. ‘I don’t think she wants us to contact her, but if we told her Jesse’s ghost was here, do you think that would change her mind?’

‘Or perhaps Jesse’s ghost appeared because Tatiana made a dark deal of her own,’ Will said. He stared out of the window thoughtfully. ‘In which case, perhaps it is our duty to stop her. None of which is your responsibility.’

Thomas suspected Will had been fighting against the supernatural at an age younger than he was now, but there was a reason he’d stopped. He imagined the price had been too high, and perhaps he regretted going up against monsters at such a young age. Perhaps it had left scars.

‘Sometimes doing nothing is more dangerous though,’ Thomas said.

‘Exactly,’ Lucie said. ‘I need to find out what happened to Jesse, we have no time to waste.’

Like Thomas, Lucie was both reckless and stubborn and he didn’t think any amount of discussion with her parents was going to stop her.

Will sighed. ‘You’re just like me when I was your age. Always running headlong towards danger. I suppose I can’t stop you. But I hope you can be careful. Speaking with ghosts is one thing, but running after the son of Tatiana Blackthorn…’

‘Will, I think we’re going to have to try and remember as much as we can from Benedict Lightwood,’ Tessa said. ‘Any detail could be crucial, anything we missed at the time. I suppose Gideon knows the most.’

‘I can help with that,’ Alastair said. ‘To remember, I mean.’

Alastair explained his ability and Thomas realized he hadn’t told anyone besides him and his family, since everyone except for Cordelia seemed surprised and confused.

‘An interesting and useful ability for someone who investigates the supernatural,’ Will mused. ‘If someone claims to have seen someone, you could objectify it for yourself and figure out what it is before fighting it. I got into some dangerous situations myself because sighted people didn’t know the difference between a werewolf and a wulver.’

Thomas didn’t know what the difference was between a werewolf and a wulver, but was glad he’d never encountered either.

‘That’s not… I’m just trying to save Thomas. I don’t want to fight like my father,’ Alastair said, refusing to look Will in the eye.

Will nodded. ‘That is a wise decision. Life fighting evil isn’t for everyone. It is a hard life and it leaves its scars. But those scars are, unfortunately, the price that some of us must pay so the rest can be safe.’

Thomas noticed Alastair tensed up, but he didn’t say anything. Thomas wanted to ask if he was alright, but Alastair seemed so closed off and he didn’t dare. He remembered Alastair being like this at times at school, and Thomas had learnt that approaching him when he was in such a state led to him lashing out. His attempt, Thomas suspected, to conceal how vulnerable he really was.

‘Alastair, why don’t you go see Gideon?’ Tessa said in an attempt to break the awkward silence. ‘I think he is the most likely to remember anything useful. In all the time he didn’t know the supernatural was real, he still might have picked up information he didn’t understand at the time.’

Alastair didn’t say anything, just nodded and picked up his bag and left.

‘I’ll go too,’ Thomas said and he quickly followed Alastair, who was already outside when he caught up..

Alastair was still tense and Thomas wished there was something he could do to help, but he wasn’t sure what exactly was going on.

‘Are you alright?’ he asked, reaching out his hand and dropping it.

He wasn’t sure Alastair wanted to be touched, even if his first instinct was to offer him comfort through a hug or a hand on his shoulder. He knew Alastair’s anger, and even if Thomas knew Alastair didn’t mean the rude things he said, it still hurt when he lashed out.

‘I’m fine, Lightwood,’ Alastair snapped.

Thomas wasn’t sure what to say. Alastair had always called him by his last name back at school, which Thomas had taken as an attempt to not let him get to close, as if using his first name implied they were friends when Alastair did the best he could to keep everyone at an arm’s length. He thought they were past that, though. They’d spoken so openly this morning in the woods, even if he could tell Alastair had scars he wasn’t ready to reveal. That was alright though, because Alastair was more than just his scars, or his memory ability. Thomas had loved talking about Alastair’s interests, he loved how passionate Alastair could be. Now he struggled to tell what Alastair was feeling, and if he liked Thomas’ presence at all.

‘Was it something uncle Will said?’ Thomas asked.

Technically, Will wasn’t his uncle, but Thomas had always called him that. He viewed Lucie as his closest friend, but also as family. Will’s sister Cecily was his aunt through marriage though, so in that regard the Herondales were almost family.

‘I’m perfectly fine,’ Alastair said between his teeth. ‘Stop pretending I’m fragile.’

Thomas took a step back, hurt. He knew Alastair didn’t mean it, he knew Will’s comment had upset him and this was how Alastair defended himself. Thomas didn’t think Alastair was fragile, far from it, but it was obvious he wasn’t alright, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to make Alastair uncomfortable, but he wished he could be of more help. He wished he knew how to support him.

Thomas couldn’t deny to himself that he still had feelings for Alastair. After this morning, after getting a glimpse of who he really was, Thomas only loved him more. Knowing Alastair was gay, there was a chance Alastair could like him back. He began to suspect it wasn’t that easy though.

‘I know you’re not fragile,’ Thomas said. ‘But it’s alright to admit that things bother you. I know you’ve been through much more than any of us can imagine and honestly if it were me I wouldn’t be able to do half the things you did. I’d be a crumbling mess.’

Alastair stared at him for a moment, Thomas could tell he was thinking. He seemed confused, furrowing his perfectly shaped brows. Even Matthew had agreed there was something special about Alastair’s eyebrows.

‘What do you know about what happened to me?’ Alastair asked, but it wasn’t as hostile as he’d expected. ‘Did they tell you too?’

Thomas assumed with “they” Alastair meant the Herondales. ‘Not much,’ he admitted. ‘I know something is not alright with your father though. And since uncle Will warned us about drinking, I’m guessing maybe he had a drinking problem? And I think it upsets you when people describe him as a hero who fought monsters and kept people safe. Or when people talk about how his life as a hero left scars. Because it dismisses you, it implies that what happened to you is just collateral damage.’

‘My father was a hero,’ Alastair said but there was no admiration in his voice. His hands were shaking and Thomas realized he was still very upset. ‘He did all these things Will talks about, and when I was a small child I used to curl up in his lap and listen as he told stories of his adventures. And I think they’re right that it had a cost, that what he saw was the reason he started drinking. But that’s no excuse for how he treated me, is it? I don’t want to empathize with my father, not after everything he did to me. People can talk all they want of how noble he was, and that being a hero leaves its scars, but what about me? What about my scars? Do I not matter?’

Thomas wanted to touch Alastair, hold his hand, put his arms around him and hold him close, but feared he would only make it worse. Alastair could be difficult to read at times, even to Thomas who prided himself on his ability to read people.

‘Of course you matter. It’s alright to hate him,’ Thomas said. ‘Or feel however you want to about him.’

‘I do. I hate him,’ Alastair said. ‘But for a long time I also loved him. And I kept trying, kept hoping that he would change if only I did better.’

There were tears in his eyes, Alastair wiped them away with shaking hands.

‘It’s not your fault,’ Thomas said. ‘Recovery from addiction is a long and difficult process and that was never your responsibility. And making sure you and Cordelia were safe was his responsibility as a parent.’

‘He never cared,’ Alastair said, and although Alastair seemed a bit calmer, his hands were still shaking and the tears in his eyes were still there. Will’s comments, although unintentional, must have been very upsetting. ‘My mother spent years trying to convince him to go to a clinic. Not so long ago she asked Jem to convince him, but I don’t know. I don’t think he wants to get better.’

‘That must be difficult,’ Thomas said. ‘Does Jem keep you informed on how your father is doing? Do they still see each other?’

‘I think Jem’s still trying with my father, but I’m trying to get away from him,’ Alastair said. ‘I’ve asked him not to keep me informed. I’d rather not know. Come, we’re almost at your father’s cottage. Searching his memory is probably going to take some time.’

Thomas took Alastair’s comment as an attempt to end the conversation about his father and didn’t press. At the cottage, Thomas realized his parents weren’t there, and when Thomas checked his phone he saw his father had texted that they were taking a walk and his mother wanted to try if she could find the washer woman Thomas had seen.

Thomas texted back, explaining how Alastair intended to help with the memories, and then made them both some lunch since neither had eaten since breakfast and Thomas was starving. Ever since his growth spurt, Thomas had an insatiable appetite. He and Lucie used to have eating competitions, but Lucie was starting to get insecure about eating a lot because she’d gained weight. While eating a lot was generally acceptable for teen boys, it was frowned upon for girls. Thomas missed it. It might be weird and stupid, but it was theirs and it was fun and Thomas was quite good at it. They decided to play chess to pass the time when they were finished eating.

Thomas was decent, but rusty. He’d taken chess classes sometime at school but hadn’t played in a while, and tended to miss important details as he played. He stood no chance against Alastair.

‘Cordelia and I played a lot of chess,’ Alastair said. ‘She’s a bit better at it than I am. My mother taught us, chess was originally a Persian game and she thought it was important we knew how to play.’

‘Really? I didn’t know.’

‘The term check derives from the Persian word ‘Shãh’, which means king. Checkmate comes from ‘Shãh mãt’, meaning the king is helpless.’

‘And your family is from Iran, right?’ Thomas asked.

‘My mother is,’ he said. ‘My father is English. I was born here in England, but my mother raised us with Persian stories, the language. She wanted to keep us connected to our heritage.’

‘Are you or your family religious?’ Thomas asked then.

‘I’m not. My father didn’t want to raise us with religion. He was raised a Christian, but I don’t think he really believed anymore. My mother is Muslim, so I am familiar with her religion, but I’m not yet sure what to believe. Growing up with so many stories of the supernatural, it’s easier to believe what I can prove is out there and having faith in something I’ll never be able to prove is something I find difficult.’

‘I agree with the last part,’ Thomas said. ‘But neither of my parents are religious, so I guess it makes sense. I wouldn’t say I’m atheist, it’s more like I think anything is possible.’

‘No, I’m not atheist either,’ Alastair agreed. ‘I don’t discount what my mother believes, but I can’t be sure either and that’s what I find difficult.’

They played two more games of chess before Thomas’ parents came back, both of which Alastair won. Thomas acknowledged he would probably never win at this game, perhaps another time they could play something different.

‘Did you find anything?’ Thomas asked.

‘No, nothing,’ Gideon said. ‘But I got your text, although I’m not quite sure I understand what Alastair can do.’

Alastair explained his ability, and after several questions his father seemed to understand.

‘Thomas, I think you two ate all the bread,’ his mother said as she checked the cupboard. Thomas guessed that was true, his parents still tended to underestimate his appetite, and they might not have counted on Alastair eating here too. ‘Maybe you could go into town and buy some before the shops are all out.’

Thomas turned to Alastair. ‘Do you need me to stay here?’

‘I wouldn’t want you to starve,’ Alastair said. ‘And it might be best not to bring too many people into someone else’s memory. I’m a bit unpracticed.’

Thomas took the car and drove it to the village. He’d gotten a driver’s license a couple of months ago. He had to make a few adjustments to the chair’s position so he could fit into the driver’s seat, and most cars were uncomfortable no matter the adjustments. He parked the car near the grocery store and was relieved to find they weren’t out of bread yet. Just to be sure, Thomas also bought some snacks he knew were vegan. You never knew when you suddenly craved something sweet, or salty. And he didn’t know what Alastair liked, so he bought a wide variety so he’d be able to offer him something he like. At the check out he felt a bit like Harry Potter after buying everything from the trolley, and Thomas didn’t meet the cashier’s eyes as he paid.

While taking his bags back to the car, he caught the eye of a woman with brown hair. He only noticed her for a few seconds, after he’d put his bags in the trunk of the car, and realized she must have been staring at him. She turned around before Thomas could get a proper look at her, trailed by a pretty blonde teen girl. He was just being paranoid, he told himself. Perhaps there was something weird about his clothes he had not noticed, or another logical reason she might have stared. Thomas pushed down the feeling of unease and got in the car, driving back to his parents.

#Thomas Lightwood #Alastair Carstairs #Lucie Herondale #Cordelia Carstairs #Lucelia #Thomastair #fic #fanfiction #the last hours #tlh

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mrsgiovanna · 4 years ago

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Redemption (Don Giorno x Fem! reader)

For all intents and purposes this was meant to be sad and angsty, but my basic bish ass couldn't, so here we are ❤️💭🥺

I listened to this song while thinking this scenario up, it somehow just added gravity to my thoughts.

Word count: 2865

“Finally” you mused to yourself as you peeked outside from your apartment window. The sun was out in all its golden splendor after days and days of dreary, rainy grey skies. You could appreciate chilly, stormy weather but even you had a limit, and it was awfully cold and lonely when all you had hold on to was a spare pillow. No. No more wallowing, the sun was out and you’d be late for work if you didn’t get on the go. So you put on your prettiest little sundress and walked to your office, a day like this couldn’t be wasted.

Smiling into the sky, absorbing all the sunshine you could, you made a mental to-do list for your day. Life was slowly starting to look up for you, you landed a new job that you loved, you finally went back to studying towards your passion, and you finally started feeling like yourself again. The sparkle had returned to your eyes, and that gentle smile had found your face again. To everyone around you, you were positively radiant. Little did you know, that your glow was also being observed by someone you locked away carefully in the dark recesses of your past…

Giorno wasn’t intentionally watching you, he just happened to be sitting at the Café you both usually went to on your way back from your morning run. You always fussed that you wouldn’t lose any weight if you immediately ate the calories you exercised away, to which he always responded that you were perfect, earning a shy smile from you. A winsome expression occupied his handsome face as he recalled the memories of you… he had to remind himself that they were just memories though, and that chapter of his life had ended, rather softly, just over a year ago. However, the ripples of that awful conversation still remained with him, disturbing the still waters of his heart.

He looked at you until you disappeared around the corner, contemplating if it would be wise to go after you, ultimately deciding against it. If fate would afford him another opportunity to see you, then he would act on that, knowing full well that you were well within your rights to never want to see him again… but so much has changed since then, if you could just give him another chance, he would prove that he’s become the man you deserve.

“Giogio, sorry I’m late, oh I thought Mista would be here already… why are we here anyway?” asked Fugo as he rushed in in a huff.

“Oh good morning, Fugo, Mista is otherwise engaged, he won’t be joining us. There’s no particular reason, its just a beautiful day, I thought a change of scenery would be nice, the coffee is delicious here as well,”

“And you just might run into her again…” interrupted Fugo, “it’s been, what? A year now? Don’t you feel it’s time to move on? I’m sure she’s moved on by now as well,”

“She hasn’t, I know she hasn’t just yet I’m sure of it. Look, I’ve tried, it’s not going to be fair to anyone involved if I just go off with a random person again, I’ll always be looking for her, it’s not fair to them or myself,” replied Giorno, his tone being slightly harsher than he intended.

Fugo grimaced at the bite in Giorno’s voice, “I’m just looking out for you,”

“I know, I’m sorry, I saw her this morning, she looked well. I’ve decided I’m not going to pursue anyone else now, I want her back, so that’s what I’m going to do. Anyway, I just wanted to touch bases since I haven’t seen anyone since flying back. Everything is still under control I presume?” asked Giorno, wanting to change the subject.

“Just think about this carefully Giorno, it’s your decision at the end of day. Well, everything is fine here, everyone is behaving as they should. Your hard work over the years is paying off now,”

“Good, if we can maintain this, then it would have all been worth it, we’ve sacrificed so much to get this far,” there was an edge to Giorno’s voice, a sliver of the resolve he displayed years ago when he was still a soldato, peeking through. There was very little, if anything at all, that Giorno couldn’t get if he set his mind to it.

Your work day was going well, you were busy from the time you set foot in the office, so you were thankful to step out of the office for an hour when your lunch break rolled around. Deciding you weren’t really hungry, you just ordered your favorite mocha frappe and decided to use the time to catch up on your reading for class.

It was still sunny and warm outside, so you decided to sit at a park bench and take advantage of the lovely atmosphere. You took in your surroundings for a few minutes before whipping out your tablet and finding the journal articles you wanted to go over.

Giorno had just ended off his last appointment and was being driven home when he saw you sitting on the bench, quietly drinking your frappe, absorbed by whatever it was you were reading. Asking the driver to pull over, he took a few moments to gaze at you, you were just so beautiful, even more so now. It was his moment, taking a deep breath and smoothing out the invisible wrinkles in his clothes, he made his way towards you, summoning up his confidence with each step he took.

“Is this seat taken?”

“No, would you….” You had to look twice to make sure that your eyes weren’t playing tricks on you.

“Are you well, cara? It’s been so long,” Giorno cringed at his choice of words but there was no going back now.

“Giorno… hi… wait, what are you doing here?” There was so much more you wanted to ask him, but those were the only words you managed to string together.

“I was on my way home when I saw you here, I just wanted to say hello. It’s been an eternity since I’ve seen you. It’s entirely up to you if you want to talk, or if you want me to leave now, I can, I just couldn’t ignore you after seeing you,” Giorno explained, thinking about how awkward he sounded. He played this moment out in his mind a thousand times, never once imagining that he would come off sounding so inept.

The nervous giggle you spoke through as you answered him further eroded away at his makeshift confidence. Who was he trying to fool, he thought to himself. He still adored you, clearly you still held all the power in this situation, but you were too virtuous to realise it.

That was one of your best traits, but also your worst, you were an idealist, often becoming disenchanted when things didn’t work out the way you planned. Giorno on the other hand was a realist, yes, he had many dreams, but he held no illusions about how to reach them or the sacrifices that would ultimately need to be made. This difference in world views resulted in many an argument, until finally you decided that you couldn’t keep fighting with this man, who only seemed to drift further and further away from you despite how much you loved him. To him you came off as arrogant and ungrateful, unwilling to see how certain decisions, however impossible, had to be made and it filled him with misery to do so, and to you, he came off as cold and unforgiving, willing to cast away precious bits of his humanity, and for what? He never explained anything to you.

Feeling uncomfortable with the silence after you spoke, Giorno tried to keep the conversation going.

“Your hair, you’ve let it grow out, it’s beautiful…” he said gazing dreamily at you.

“Oh, yeah, it’s due mostly to laziness, but it worked, so I just went with it, but thank you, you look very good too, life’s been treating you well,” you said with a bright smile. In your heart of hearts you knew a part of you would always love Giorno and would want him to be happy, even if it wasn’t with you. You were trying not to stare at him too much, but it was incredibly difficult not to, with his long golden curls and chiseled, handsome face that smiled so softly, you really couldn’t look away for very long.

“I’d really like to continue this catch up, I can tell you have somewhere else to be though… would you like to meet me for dinner tonight? Nothing fancy, just a couple of friends catching up,” he asked earnestly, his eyes searching your face for any hint of what might be going on in your mind.

Your heart fluttered against your will, you wanted to decline his offer but against your better judgment you agreed. It was just one dinner, a catchup between friends, could you even call each other that though? No matter, numbers had been exchanged and you had to dash back to your office to carry on with your work. No sooner had you sat down at your desk, did Giorno text you the time and place to meet him.

The rest of your day flew by, although you wished it would have dragged, and before you knew it, it was time for you to go home and freshen up before meeting Giorno. Staring at your reflection in what must have been your fourth outfit change, you scolded yourself for over thinking everything. You hurriedly retouched your hair and makeup and left for the restaurant, knowing you were running a bit late. Walking up the stairs to reach the entrance brought back a rush of memories with each step you took. Recollections of fun dates, precious friends and balmy nights like this bombarded your senses, almost as if you were transported to that very time. You walked in and saw the place empty, except for a table near the balcony. Some things never changed you mused… although you couldn’t blame this on Giorno’s tendency to go over the top this time, booking out entire establishments was less about asserting his clout or showing off, but more about protecting himself from potential threats.

The clicking of your heels on the expensive tiles caught Giorno’s attention, and his senses feasted on the way you were illuminated by the muted lighting, the soft lilt of your voice as you greeted him with a smile and the pretty floral scent you wore- his favorite scent on you.

Giorno stood up to greet you, pulling out your chair for you with all the grace of a nobleman. You noticed he was a lot more relaxed, even abandoning his open chested suits for more casual attire, and wearing his hair completely unbound. He politely waited for you to adjust yourself in your seat before taking his own again. His manners were always impeccable, you thought, even when he fought with you, he was never disrespectful, choosing rather to rely on other means to get his point across.

“Thanks once again for joining me cara, I appreciate you sacrificing your time for me, I hope you don’t mind, I’ve already picked out the wine and appetizers for us. Forgive me but I’m starving,”

“It’s okay, I should be the one to apologize, I arrived late, I’m sorry,” you offer with a sheepish smile.

“It’s alright Bella, it’s a small price to pay for such lovely company,”

Giorno’s words caught you off guard, roping you in with the silken threads of his voice.

“Giorno, what’s going on? Out of nowhere we find ourselves here, in this romantic setting, behaving like a couple. Earlier on you said we’re meeting as friends, although I doubt you dole out such complements to Fugo and Mista,”

“I could, you don’t know that…”

You burst out laughing, perhaps a bit too loudly, at his remark, which earned a soft chuckle from him as well.

“I’m sorry, I guess the mafia has really changed you.”

“Well maybe, but also not that much. In quiet, private moments like these, I’ll always be Gio, your Gio. Well I’m lying there, I guess when I’m with you, I’m just Haruno. You’re the only one who knows me, the real me… I miss this, I miss us,” mumbled Giorno as he spoke in the middle of a kiss to the inside of your wrist.

Something about how sad his voice sounded combined with that chaste kiss, picked open a wound you didn’t even know you had, sending to the surface everything you buried deep within your soul, for fear of hurting this man whom you loved so deeply.

“You have no right to look that way, to so unashamedly say these things without thinking about what those words and actions do to me. For years all I’ve ever been doing is running after you, staring at your back, wondering if you’ll ever turn around and truly see me for who I am. When we were in school you just disappeared one day and returned as… this mafia boss. Still, I accepted everything and wanted to build your dream alongside you but again, you never allowed me to stand beside you, and I overlooked that, and so many other things to try and make you happy. And now, after a year, you waltz back into my life as if you were just on vacation. Don’t think I don’t know about the numerous escapades you’ve had, I’m not upset though, you’re a free man, and I’m the one who ended things after all… its just… I don’t even know what I’m doing here, this was a mistake, please excuse me” You stood up to leave when Giorno blocked your way, gripping your wrist tightly enough to restrain you, but not enough to hurt you.

“Please… I’d like for us to talk, there’s so much I need to say. I know I’m being selfish, but please, humor me one last time. If by the end of this evening you want me to leave and never cross your path again, I’ll abide by those wishes” implored Giorno.

Reluctantly, you retake your seat, noticing that even the staff had become invisible.

You looked at the man sitting opposite you , encouraging him to speak.

“Cara, I… I’ve done some questionable things. Many of which I’m not proud of at all. I’ve hurt people, I’ve tried to manipulate you into coming back to me, all of which backfired ending up in me hurting myself and the people around me. But you just kept thriving, I couldn’t stand it. I still can’t stand it. The ugly truth is that you don’t need me, but I need you… you’re my one constant. Make no mistake, amore, you don’t have to do anything to make me happy, you just do, and for that reason I didn’t want to involve you in anything that posed a danger to you. I know it’s not ideal , but I don’t know how else to be,”

Silence cloaked the room after Giorno spoke, you searched his face for the slightest hint that he could be lying, but found none. Unable to hold your gaze any longer, he looked away dejectedly. It’s been years since you’ve seen him expose so much of himself, and it hurt you to know he was still silently fighting his personal battles.

“Thank you Gio, that couldn’t have been easy to say, so I appreciate your candor. You know a large part of me will always love you,”

“but” he interjected, sadness dripping from his voice.

“but getting over you was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do. I can’t do that again,”

Taking a lock of your hair in his hand, enjoying the intimacy of the act, he replies “what if you didn’t have to do that again? I’m determined to make this work. If you give us another chance, I’ll do things differently. You’ll come to realize that I’ve changed,”

You were scared of going down that path again, but, there was something different in his demeanor this time, something you felt you could trust, so you went with your gut instinct and wordlessly decided you’d give this one last chance, gently grasping the hand that Giorno held your hair with.

“We’ll take things slow bella, from the beginning, I want you to get to know me as I am right now,”

“I’d like that Gio,” you say with a kind smile.

The rest of the long evening was spent wining and dining and engaging in silly conversations about a multitude of things. When it came time for you both to go home, Giorno insisted on taking you home and making sure you were safely inside your apartment before heading home himself. You were hopeful for what the future might hold. That night you fell asleep with a smile after reading the sweet goodnight message from Giorno, thinking that finally the sun came out to shine on you again.

#giorno giovanna #giorno #giorno giovanna x reader #don giorno #don giovanna #giogio #jjba giorno giovanna #jjba #vento aureo #jjba x reader #giorno x reader #post breakup #Spotify

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neonponders · 3 years ago

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I never thought I’d write a court jester!Steve x King!Billy fic, but here we are. I entirely blame @ghostofjellyfishforgotten and @drinkingbeerfroma for this 💋

The original king!Billy and jester!Steve fics are here~ (this is a gift for Ghost and meant to be read in tandem with their fics 🌹)

Drinkingbeerfroma’s fanart is here~ (the enabling source, send them some love 🌹)

P.s....you can probably tell how much of The Witcher: Blood and Wine influenced this for me lol Ch. 2 coming soon! Or, you know, some time!

Read on ao3.

• • • • • • •

Billy strolled into his royal chambers with a tune on his lips. Usually the rustle of clothing, the scoot of furniture, reacted to his whistle so that he could meet his jester right at the door. Or by the bed.

Then again, Steve did wander. Perhaps that’s why he worked as a jester: always the desire to move, to fidget, and it had lent into a natural proclivity for acrobatics.

Billy had never much cared for the athleticism of the job. Not that it wasn’t impressive, but the stunts were the bottom of his jester’s abilities. His Steve.

Steve, who was nowhere in the expansive rooms. Billy huffed a sigh through his nose. He began loitering around, investigating what his jester had left behind and what it could mean for where he’d gone.

Except…he’d left everything behind. Billy’s gaze locked on the sapphire and green velvet of the suit he’d gifted Steve himself, now left in a rumbled state on the bed. The gleaming silk fibers moved with the midday light of the window as Billy circled around the bed to touch them, as if to test that they were real. The fool as good as lived in the king’s royal chambers by this point, so he opened the dresser beside the large writing desk and—

Steve’s original suits and garments sat in the drawers, untouched. The yellow shirt Billy had torn—twice—until Steve left it in disrepair, tired of mending it. The red and purple suit which he’d first strolled into court wearing. His blue boots. The red boots. The god-awful yellow boots to go with that shirt apart from how stained they were from daily living.

What the hell is my fool wearing? Billy mused in disbelief, his amusement only checked by worry.

Amusement that snuffed out under the weight of a paper he finally saw on the desk itself. Both of Steve’s jester hats stood on either side of it, crowning the white square to garner Billy’s attention. More than once, Billy had marveled at his jester’s ability to read and write. This was not one of those times.

Majesty,

An emergency called me home. Nothing to worry about. I’ll return soon.

Yours,

Steve.

Billy read those four lines over and over again, worry tussling with indignant rage, and then confusion. He wanted more out of a note from Steve, which ought not be the prior concern in his mind, but there it was.

Why not address me by my name? This note is for me, nobody else. Who did you fear seeing it? In my own chambers? We’re far past courtly manners.

Largest understatement of his entire reign, but whatever. More annoying and concerning details eclipsed Billy’s focus.

He had no idea where ‘home’ meant for Steve. His Steve. Billy’s pride ordained that Billy is his home; what other place—or person—could have the audacity to yank his fool right out from under him?

Billy’s voice roared down the corridors outside his chambers. His staff was certainly used to making haste in their duties, but this was something else. The king had lost something precious to him, and hell would shiver until he had it back.

It is both a blessing and a curse that the lesbians in his court did not fear him.

“Would you shut the hell up?” Heather barked, swinging out of her room fully dressed in robes but hair a disaster. “Some of us like to do our own fucking now and again.”

“Where is Steve?” Billy growled, damned note in hand. “When did you last see him?”

“This morning,” she sighed with a tone that Billy did not understand until she added, “When he left with Robin. He warned me that you might be grouchy—”

“Grouch—” he began to seethe, but Heather took the paper right out of his hand to give it a look.

“He said he left you a note, your majesty,” she purred through a voice he now noticed to be quite raw. Overused. Her eyelids hung low like she was drunk, or three orgasms gone to the wind.

This only abated Billy’s nerves slightly. Steve genuinely left on his own?

“Where is home?”

Heather frowned at the lines. “For a musician, he isn’t great with words.”

“HEATHER.”

“Same home as my lady, Robin’s. They complain about their corner of the kingdom often enough,” she retorted while surrendering the note as if it had caught flame. “Good grief. How many months has it been? You really don’t pay attention. Your majesty.”

He grimaced pointedly at her lackadaisical manners this morning, but snatched the page up. The sour expression did not fade as he asked, “Who are you fucking if Robin’s not here?”

Heather’s groggy eyes rolled. “I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself many times over. You’re not the only one around here with an abundance of energy.”

Fuming and feeling too hot for his clothes, Billy marched back to his chambers, yelling orders about a horse.

* * *

More than one person urged against this decision. The more people who tried to talk him out of it, the more disheartening the whole point of secrecy became. Then again, roaring for the whole castle to hear, might not have been the wisest start.

So he sent a rider in one direction, on some pointless “errand for the king,” while he road in another.

It had been a long time since Billy wore commoners’ clothes. He also did not usually go clean-shaven, but he was a different person now. A lone rider on the king’s road, journeying his way to the edge of the kingdom. Two advisors had urged him to take an entourage, at most his best guardsman—but Billy is the best guardsman. First knight and crown prince under his father, The Tyrant. Every dawn stolen from him until the late king’s passing, utterly devoted to training hard, practicing consistent, and never, never losing.

Until the old bastard finally croaked from pneumonia. How simple. How mortal. And ironic, considering his playboy—rat of my blood—heir paraded around with open shirts whenever he was off duty. Constantly challenging gods and climate to do away with him whenever they wished.

The gods took a different king, though. Billy is the monarch now, and for a while, he will be nobody. A fool searching for his fool, and it was not lost on him how ironic his own death might become. But traveling alone on his own roads did not deter him. He’d been on these highways many times—hell, he’d even been assigned to designing and monitoring the reconstruction of the kingdom’s infrastructure.

His last steps on these roads occurred during the funeral tour for his father. An obnoxious tradition, but he’d made the journey in his first month as king. He wondered if anyone would recognize him now. He’d grown his hair out, and so often adorned his face with nothing less of stubble; often indulging in his own shaving kit to manage his facial hair himself and styled it differently whenever he wished. He liked the way lovers shivered against him when he touched their skin. When the lion pressed his lips against the lamb’s pulse.

He liked applying creams to Steve’s inflamed, beard-burnt skin.

He sighed over his horse’s even, medium paced trot. He was a fool, indeed.

* * *

The only thing keeping Billy from scolding himself for knowing so little about his jester, was the fascination of where he came from. Lady Robin entered court to jeers and teasing over her humble, bumpkin origins—before she rightly debated and venomously talked her way around every gnat who dared flaunt a lower intelligence over her.

Billy knew she and Steve got along, but not how much they had in common. Originating from one of the farming districts was one thing, but specifically the dairy and vineyard region proved a fascinating piece of information.

As well as a gorgeous journey. It took a day and two nights, but forests soon exhaled into rolling hills for lines of grape trees, pastures for cattle, sheep, and goats. Billy knew he was getting closer to the center of it all because grapevines began to line the road, with signs every couple of miles encouraging travelers to eat their fill, along with a number informing how far they were to more accommodating civilization.

The smell of shit and manure dampened the experience, but Billy could not claim ignorance over how his own city smelt during the summer. Even under royal decree that half the fleabags leave the capital in order to minimize summer fever and pestilence, the place still reeked.

The road began to veer down into a lush valley of hills; below was the bustling city of this region, and above stood a number of large homes. One ought to have appeared bigger than the rest, but such shared opulence suggested a wealthy middle class instead of one lord standing above them all. Economically, this was healthier. Socially, Billy felt utterly foreign to this hierarchal shape. His court was an uneven, pyramid hourglass. With himself standing on its point, a bloated pool of lords and deceit, then a strangled middle class before an even bigger pool of lower class just trying to feed themselves. It is a shape which cannot hold itself up, and yet he tirelessly managed it.

It’s not my fault, he defended to nobody. It’s what I inherited.

He pat his horse’s neck, feeling the silken grey fur that drew passersby’s glances. He had a beautiful mount: a grey so vibrant she looked blue under storm clouds. His saddle and bridle were humble; couldn’t very well walk around with his embossed leather saddle or a bridle glittering with the king’s golden medallions on every buckle.

When a woman gazed a little too long at him instead of his horse, Billy eased to a stop and smiled charmingly. “Excuse me, where might I find the House of Buckley?”

She adjusted the basket in her arms to hold it on her hip while she swayed coyly. “Peach-colored house on the hill, sir. May I ask what business you have there?”

“Visiting a friend.” Unless she’s in disguise too.

“Best to wait until evening time. Everyone’s in the market or out in the fields right now.”

Billy tilted his head at her. “Buckley is a noble house.” Nobody is working in the fields from that family—

Then she laughed. Laughed. “Are you from the capital?”

Billy’s charm faltered on his face, but he picked it back up easily enough. “Thereabouts. Why?”

“Because people from the capital believe everyone’s rich. Rich enough to sit or poor enough to not own a chair. We all work here, and we’re all in the market or the fields. I can tell you which are Sir Buckley’s, though.”

The little twit liked being a know-it-all, but it served Billy a great deal to be given the tour. Here, property decided who reigned, and property came in the form of land, livestock, or both. With that came a handful of useful names: Buckley, Hagan, Harrington, Wheel—

Billy’s eyes widened like a cat’s pupils dilating on prey. “STEVE!”

Because…there he was. His Steve, strolling right up the cobbled road from the hills and into the market with a donkey loaded with grape baskets beside him. He hadn’t heard his name, giving Billy the time to absorb every new detail about the man who vanished from his castle.

The white, puffy shirt held close to his body with a waistcoat. High-waisted trousers made his legs look long and lean over workman’s boots. He shoved up the colorful fabric ties around his biceps, holding up the shirtsleeves but failing due to all of the sweat from a day in the sun. A belt sagged a little diagonally around his hips, on which such things as pliers, shears, a garden knife, and a pair of leather and canvas gloves waited for use.

Steve took off a large sunhat and set it on the donkey’s head, combing both of his hands through his voluminous, brown hair—

“Steve!”

Billy began to walk his horse in that direction, having long since dismounted for the courtesy of his guide, but now the latter gripped his arm in warning. “That’s Lord Harrington to you.”

Billy blew a raspberry right into the air, scoffing, “Excuse me?”

The woman rolled her eyes so hard, she would have been thrown into a stockade for behaving like that to—well, to a king. But she let go of him and went on her way, leaving him to his fate.

So off he went. Billy walked his mount over to where a collection of people were attending to the donkey and the grapes, and Steve nodded in discussion with an older man.

“Lord Harrington, I hear?” he crooned in greeting.

Two heads rotated toward him, and Billy felt rather smacked in the face by the matching eyes and nose. Father. This is Steve’s father.

Lord Harrington. Twice over.

Steve’s features opened with shocked eyes and a dropped jaw. His eyes darted to his father’s frown, and Billy quickly backpedaled, “I apologize. I know the younger, but not the older. My name’s Billy Hargrove.”

He’d bowed his fair share as a knight, though the gesture felt far removed since he was out of practice. Never the less, Steve gaped at his king bowing slightly at the hips and extending a hand for Lord Harrington to shake.

Thing about being king, not many people actually know the monarchy’s family name. They knew William the Second. William of the Grove. Some whispered the Second Tyrant, but only because Billy was still young and new to being king. They were waiting for him to prove them right.

Lord Harrington shook his head with a glance at his son. “You didn’t say anyone was coming with you.”

“I didn’t think anyone was,” Steve answered bluntly, but he picked up the gist of Billy’s disguise easily enough. “Billy’s been a big help to me in the capital.”

“How so?”

Billy’s brows lifted, but before he could provide a veiled innuendo, Steve chirped, “Roommates. Got me a job. Kept me fed.”

“I did my best,” Billy crooned. He watched Steve’s apple bob in his throat.

Lord Harrington, with his similar, albeit shorter and silver, hair and weathered skin opened his arm to gesture Billy up the road. “You’ll be our guest, then. I’ll show you along. Are you staying at the inn?”

“No, my lord. I’ve only just arrived.”

“Very good. This way. Steve, remind Roger about the textiles. We’ve sheared the animals twice already this season. He needs to either wash it or sell it. We can’t hold onto it or else it will mold and be useless to barter.”

Billy peeked at Steve, who similarly veered to go on his separate way. He met Billy’s gaze for the briefest second, and he looked…not entirely happy to see Billy.

The king did not like that at all.

* * *

Billy looked around the Harrington estate, taking in every detail that Lord Harrington granted him. He had yet to see an inkling of whatever this emergency could have been to rush Steve out of the capital. Out of Billy’s bed. It made sense, now, why he had left everything behind, since he had a home and full wardrobe waiting for him here. Billy had not seen a glimpse of Lady Buckley, though.

People are supposed to ask my permission to leave, damn it. Or at the very least, inform him first. Not skip town like bandits.

The Harrington house looked out over the estate’s vast hills of grapes, goats, and sheep. It would have been endearing, the farmers using their canes to nudge the goats along the alleys of vines so they could snack on fallen grapes. Endearing, if Steve had been the one to show him all this. Billy wanted Steve next to him on this veranda—if it could be called that. The house and its balconies overlooking the city and hills were much smaller than his castle’s, of course.

Billy did not stay long in his rooms—room. Just a room. You certainly acclimated to luxury, he reminded himself. One of his first orders in the castle had been a complete renovation to his chambers. He would not live in his father’s rooms. Those were turned into a storage branch of the castle, and Billy had several walls knocked down to make way for the new royal apartments. Let the old bastard haunt the broom cupboards.

Billy trotted down the narrow stairs into what felt like an abrupt arrival at the dining room. Further down in the house would be the kitchen but there was a smaller, stewards’ pantry, of sorts, in which a woman stood and rotated upon hearing him. It took a second, but Billy remembered to bow.

“Am I correct in addressing the lady of the house?”

“You are,” smiled Lady Harrington. It came as no surprise that she looked at least ten years younger than her husband, but the blonde hair did catch Billy off guard. She offered her hand, which he took and kissed its back.

“For some reason, I didn’t think Steve took after his father so much.”

“In looks only. He has all his personality from me.”

Billy rocked a little on his heels, humming an acknowledging sound. He certainly did not voice his amusement that she might’ve just revealed more about her marital bed than she meant to. He simply replied, “I believe it. May I ask: Steve and Lady Buckley rushed out with hardly any explanation. Is everything all right?”

“Oh, everything’s no more out of the ordinary than it usually is,” she began, returning to her task of preparing what looked like a fruit-soaked wine for their dinner. She sliced up apples and peaches with a curved blade and a practiced hand. “However, our ordinary can be quite sudden and busy.”

A different hum came from Billy’s chest at that. “I understand. Is there anything I can do?”

“Well, if you’re offering, you can half those grapes right there.”

Billy sent the wooden bowl of fruit a dubious glance and then laughed breathily, “I meant—”

“I know what you meant,” she smiled. “For now, you can help me prepare the wine.”

A long dead growl moved through Billy’s mind. Woman’s work—

Stay dead, tyrant, Billy hushed with finality. He accepted the spare knife from her and did the task he was given. She couldn’t know that he was who he was, after all. No one in this town apart from Steve knew that Billy could supply the money, machinery, and manpower at a moment’s notice for whatever reason they might need—

Chatter and laughter moved like a reverse echo outside the house, blooming quickly until, of all people, Robin Buckley herself clapped on the stoop of the Harrington’s side door. Open as it is for the breeze to come and go, she waltzed right in, and stopped at the sight of Billy. Her laughter cut off only to be replaced with, “You!”

“Me,” he threw right back. He raised a brow at a woman of the royal court wearing trousers and boots.

Lady Harrington chimed, “Oh, so you are friends.”

Billy peered back at her. “Was there any doubt?”

“Oh, dear, you look like you’ve never worked a field in your life.”

Billy had never heard his jaw hit the floor until that moment. Robin’s chuckle arrived beside him as she ripped off a handful of grapes for a snack. “When did you get here?”

“Not an hour ago.”

“You could’ve stayed put.”

“You’re enjoying this,” he growled, hoping that she heard his meaning through the words. I’m still your king even if no one here knows it.

She smirked, hearing loud and clear. “Steve gave me the heads up.”

He matched her smile, tone dripping with charming venom. “And where is he?”

She shook her head at him, cooing a tone that was both soothing and condescending. “He’ll be around. You’re in…his house, after all. Thanks, Anne.”

“You’re welcome, dear,” came Lady Harrington’s reply, but Billy hardly heard it.

He was in Steve’s house. A lord’s house. Lord Harrington’s house…and Billy was just some nobody.

Robin really was enjoying this too much.

#harringrove #jester!steve #king!billy #ficlet #neonponders #ghostofjellyfishforgotten #here we go again #pondermoniums

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krisdreaming · 4 years ago

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ii. The One When You’re Apart

｢ Masterlist ｣

Pairing: Kuroo Tetsurou x reader

WC: 1.2k

Summary: You and Kuroo are at different universities, and this year, you can’t spend his birthday with him.

A/N: Day 2! This one might be my favorite of the fics bc I love me some very soft angst ;-; dw though it’s pretty much just fluffy!!

You get back to your dorm after dinner, and you finally have some time to call Kuroo. It’s his birthday, and up to this point all you’ve been able to do is send him a quick message. This long distance thing sucks every day, but you especially hate it on days like this.

“Hi Tetsu,” You say, smiling when his face finally appears on your phone screen. You can tell by the background that he’s sitting at his desk.

“Hey, Baby,” He grins back, propping his chin on his hand.

“Is this a good time?” You pull your phone a little closer, taking in his face even though the low light in his dorm is making it especially grainy.

“Yup. I was just about ready to take a break from studying, anyway. My roommate’s out with his girlfriend, so I’ve got the room allll to myself,” He swings the camera around so you can see the empty room behind him.

“Nice,” You say, laughing softly. Your smile drops off your face. “And you’re stuck in your dorm alone on your birthday. Did you even do anything to celebrate today?”

“Nah,” He shrugs. “Well... I did buy myself a pastry with my coffee this morning. Does that count?”

You shake your head with a soft chuckle. “Sure,” You hum. For a few moments, the two of you sit in comfortable since. Then, you speak up again. “How do you feel about going for a walk?”

“Why not? Might be good for me. And if the coffee shop is still open, I can grab another coffee.” You hear the hollow tap of his empty coffee cup on the top of his desk.

“Tetsu, no! It’s like 7:30!”

“Tetsu, yes. Why would you deprive me of the one thing that makes me happy on my birthday?” He gives you a teasing pout.

“The one thing that makes you happy?” You echo incredulously as you prop your phone up, stepping across your dorm to grab your coat.

“You’re not here, so yes.” His voice is muffled, and when you glance at your phone you see that he’s also disappeared from view. “Don’t worry about my caffeine habit, it doesn’t concern you.” His face comes back into view, now with a familiar red scarf wrapped around his neck. “You ready?”

“Yup,” You say, already reaching for the door handle. It’s become somewhat of a habit for the two of you. In the evenings, sometimes you’ll go for a walk around your respective campuses while you talk. It’s nice to have the fresh air, and something about it makes you feel a little bit closer even if his hand isn’t in yours.

“Hey,” You say once you make it outside, “Is that really the scarf that I made for you?”

“Of course,” He gives it a tug, readjusting it on his neck.

“But it’s so gross,” You cringe, “I’m a terrible knitter. You know this.”

“I don’t care, you made it for me! It’s warm. What more could I ask for out of a scarf? You didn’t think I’d get rid of it, did you?”

You laugh. “I wouldn’t blame you.”

“Well, I would never.” He huffs out. For a bit, all you can hear crackling through the phone is the crunching of his footfalls on the leftover leaves.

“So, did you have a good birthday?” You finally ask as you walk through the mostly empty courtyard.

“I guess, yeah.” He shrugs. “It didn’t feel much different than a normal day. Buuut, it’s about to get better.” There’s a shuffling sound. “Hold on a second.” The screen goes dark, and you roll your eyes. He’s shoved his phone in his pocket, but you can make out just enough of the ambient sounds to figure out that he’s stepped into the coffee shop.

“You’re impossible,” You say the moment his grin reappears, the rim of his coffee cup in the bottom of the frame.

“But you love me anyway,” He sing-songs, taking an exaggerated sip of his coffee. “Ahh.”

“Yeah, how unfortunate for me,” You say with a shake of your head. The soft smile on your face gives you away completely. He sits down at one of the small tables outside of the coffee shop.

“The only thing that could make this better is if you were here,” He muses, his eyes flickering across the screen.

“I know,” You murmur. “I wish I could’ve visited you today.”

“Oh well,” He’s quick to brush it off, but you know he’d been disappointed too.

“I miss you,” You say then, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah,” His expression softens. “I miss you, too.”

The late fall air is crisp, and you draw in a deep lungful of it to distract yourself from the stinging at the backs of your eyes. You rub your free hand up and down your arm, picking up your pace a bit in an attempt to ward off the chill now that the sun has almost completely set.

“Hey Tetsu,” You say as you glance upwards and a thought comes to you. “Can you see the stars there?” He squints up at the sky, and you do the same. They’re faint, but you can just make out a few of the brighter ones. You smile.

“Yeah. Well, kind of,” He says. “Can you?”

“Yup.” You take in a deep breath of the chilly night air. “We’re both looking up at the same stars right now. So that’s something, right?”

“It’s something,” He agrees. But not enough. You finish silently.

“I’ll see you in 26 days,” You say then. You’d just counted this morning.

“Wow, you’re keeping track already? Nerd,” He chuckles.

“Oh, I’m the nerd?” You smirk, “Which one of us is the chem major, again?”

“Hey, you’re not allowed to be mean to me on my birthday. It’s the rules.” He makes a face at you.

“Yeah, whatever.” You fall into silence again, just existing together for a few moments. Every so often you can hear Kuroo take a sip of his coffee. You fiddle with the zipper on your jacket and finally heave a sigh. “I’ve got an exam tomorrow. I’d better study just a little more before bed,” You say regretfully.

He nods, getting to his feet. You can hear him toss his now-empty coffee cup into a nearby trash can. “Yeah, and I have a lab report to finish. I’ll stay on ‘til you get back to your dorm. Then I should go.”

You try to make the walk back to your dorm slower, but it comes to an end. Just like it always does. “Alright,” You say when you’re inside, feeling the warmth tingle on your cheeks after the chill of the outdoors, “I’ll talk to you later, you old fart.”

He feigns a gasp. “Excuse you, I just so happen to be another year wiser. So there.” And then you’re both laughing, despite the twinge in your middle. “Okay, I’m hanging up,” He says when your laughter peters out. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” You say, holding your phone even closer. “Happy Birthday, Tetsu.”

#Haikyuu #Haikyuu x reader #Haikyuu fluff #Kuroo Tetsurou #Kuroo Tetsurou x reader #Kuroo x reader #queued

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danddymaro · 4 years ago

Text

Death Stranding | Open Heart

Pairing : Higgs monaghan X Reader // Sam Bridges x Reader

First Part: Stay // pt.1

Previous: Sweet Façade

Thoughts are italics in quotations = ‘Example’

Flashbacks are in italics = Example

Wordcount: 3704

He’s going by an alias, obviously and I thought I'd do a play of his alias as well.

Little Fact: The name (alias) "Peter Englert" is a combination of the names of theoretical physicists Peter Higgs and François Englert, who together won the 2013 Nobel Prize in Physics for the discovery of the Higgs mechanism.

So Higgs Peters? Just for the sake of keeping his first name.

Open Heart

She placed a small mug before him, the sweet scent of warm tea gently wafting into his nose as it sat on the surface of the small table. With a small, placid smile he accepted the generous offer, tentatively placing his hand onto the warm cup, watching her sit before him, an identical mug in her hand as she took her place.

" So..." He sounded out, "You're here by yourself, correct?" he asked her, already knowing the answer, but just making conversation with her.

He just loved the sound of her voice, and he wanted to hear it sound forever, furthermore, he absolutely lived for their little moment together, willing to stretch out the vicious storm for weeks if it was necessary, all to have the fortune of seeing her every day.

'If I could spend everyday with you like this...just you and me...I wouldn't miss a beat.

I wouldn't hesitate to take the chance, '

"Oh yeah," (f/n) replied nodding before taking a small sip, an almost unnoticeable smile overtaking her as she got a taste of her beverage.

“It Get’s lonely, huh?” he said while offering her kind blue eyes, truly feeling sorry for her, because he just knew what it felt like to be disconnected, all in all, he knew what lonely silence was like.

She chuckled wearily before giving him another nod, " Yeah,” She breathed. “It does...but...” She then said, raising her eyes to him, looking certain, “ I've gotten used to it,” She mused, “Well, at least that's what I keep telling myself,” She added with a halfhearted, little chuckle.

“ The thing is though, It's been raining so much…” she sighed, notably disheartened, “ I don't know what's going on, but it seems like there is this dark cloud looming over me,” she admitted, having seen such little sunshine she felt as though she was an unfortunate, little bloom, slowly wilting while left in the darkness.

“If anything this awful weather is what's making things unbearable,” She added with falling shoulders.

Occasionally she’d step out and enjoy the sunlight, but within the last few weeks, it hadn’t been something she had the fortune of enjoying, instead being stuck within the underground home, held hostage within the place she should feel her safest.

"I have noticed that things around here have gotten pretty hectic," he commented, "Have you been getting supplies?" he asked her, receiving a declining nod,

"No, and truth be told, I'm starting to grow really anxious about it." She responded back, " But as I said, it's been hell around here.” She said with understanding, knowing just why no one else had bothered to come through,

She took a small moment to clear her throat before she seemed to lift in spirits, but only by a tad bit as she continued , “As I mentioned before, You're actually the first person to actually make it up here in a long...long time," She admitted, offering him a sweet smile, a little shine to her eyes that made him melt and want to reach out for her.

She seemed to glow, her appreciation seeping through, overruling both her great concern and her lonesome sadness altogether, “And you have no idea how much I appreciate it,” She added.

" - I don't really blame anyone for not even bothering to make the trip, " she began to explain, " I mean, this rain won't let up. And I’d hate for anyone to …” stopping herself she shook her head, a tight bit to her lip while her hands that lay over the table balled up, fisted until they became uncomfortably tense, lightly shaking with the force,

“I’d hate to cause anyone harm, which is why I just couldn't let you go back out there,” She admitted, slightly hanging her head as she confessed to him her reasoning.

All in all, she couldn’t bear to bring another person harm.

‘Oh sweetheart,’ He thought to himself, daring to reach his gloved hand up to hers, covering the shaking fist with his palm.

At the light touch, she suddenly jumped, looking at him with wide eyes, the young woman having grown startled at being startled, prolonging her state of surprise.

Retracting his hand, he grimaced, “shit, I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I didn’t mean to,” he said while holding both his hands up, “Please forgive me, I didn’t mean any harm by it, I swear,” he insisted, looking wholeheartedly upset.

Suddenly standing, she shook her head, “ No, no, no,” She repeated, “I’m the one who’s sorry,” She went on while being embarrassed, her face glowing while she released a small, cute giggle.

“- I know you didn’t mean any harm by it,” She said while still being notably flustered,

‘It’s just its been a really long time since anyone has reached out for me,’ She mused, feeling silly for fidgeting over the harmless contact,

‘You must think I'm such a fool, ‘ She thought to herself, not knowing just how much her sweet, demure nature was affecting him.

“- Anyways, Come on,” She encouraged him, nudging her head to the side, signaling it towards the hall, “ Let me show you where you can stay, I’m sure after a whole day of traveling you want a nice, warm shower, “ She suggested, knowing that if she were in his shoes she’d itch for a warm wash.

“Or maybe some sleep?” She inquired, assuming he must have been tired after traveling up the trail, “In the meantime, while you relax I can make something to eat. '' She told him with a happy, little clap, the offer making him smile gently, taking in how exited she seemed.

‘ Baby girl… with you taking care of me like this… I might just fall more in love,’ he thought to himself, following her as she walked along the small passage, soon reaching a decently sized quarter,

“This is a pretty nice room,” he told her as he walked through the doorway, “ - A little too nice to be lending it out to just anyone,” he observed, his eyes slowly trailing over the room, finding himself directly gazing at a Synchronization incubator,

. "...Almost As though it already belongs to someone already," he added, feeling somewhat spiteful as he glared at the personalized space.

His mind wandered, knowing she lived alone, and that the only other person who visited was the other Porter.

And he could easily put two and two together,

‘ You're doing too much for him sweetheart.

You’re making me so, so jealous,

Oh you sweet angel…If only you knew how much this hurts me,’ He went on, swallowing down the words, knowing that it wasn’t really her fault.

Because all in all, she wasn’t aware, so how could she know she was hurting him?

“Oh,” she replied back, her pretty smile becoming lukewarm, “ you think so?” she asked, scratching the back of her neck with a rather nervous chuckle, almost like she’d been caught in a white lie.

“ Yeah,” he replied back, eyeing her, watching her every move, every little tick she had, memorizing it all.

“I just have the feeling ; so does it?” he pressed on, still seeming playful and sweet while he secretly interrogated her, “I don’t want to pry, but I also wouldn’t want to impose,” he went on, justifying himself, playing the part of the perfect, considerate guest.

"-Well, to be perfectly honest, yeah,” she answered him with a little pouty smile, barely recognizable as an actual show of happiness, “... but, I'm pretty sure he's not coming back in a good while, so I don't think he'd mind at all, ” (f/n) said while fluffing the little pillow on the mattress so he could be comfortable.

“Just for the time being...” she murmured.

“- Who’s not coming back?” He asked her with a mellow, little mutter of his own, noticing how she stopped altogether, a vacant look in her eye before she shook her head to come back to, letting a little smile overrule the small bit of seldom that attempted to take claim over her features,

“He…” She started, not knowing how to put things, taking a little nibble of her lip as she tried to properly gather her thoughts,

“You don't have to tell me if you don't want to.” Higgs told her, not wanting to force her into saying anything.

Granted he wanted to know, but not at the expense of her sweet, little grin.

‘ I want to make you smile.

I want to make you happy sweetheart,’ he silently told her.

“ I'm not trying to pry or anything. I’m just trying to make conversation, and also avoid any inconvenience. “ He explained to her, “But it seems like it’s a sensitive topic,” he observed out loud, “And I don’t want to force you to tell me anything, or make you uncomfortable,” he told her.

“So there's no need for you to share,” He told her, making it clear that he was giving her options and he wasn't demanding anything from her.

She could literally feel her heart unwind, for a reason unknown to her feeling light, a great part of her wanting to share with him.

“ You’re welcome to ask,” she voiced out with a small voice, “ it's just... I haven't had anyone to really talk to, so it’s hard for me to put the words together without it feeling strange" she admitted.

"Or without feeling stupid," she added with a little grin, one that made him crack a small smile of his own.

" So ...umm … well,” she then said while contemplating look crossed over her, “There is this one Porter who comes around very often... or at least he used to," she began to explain, "I'm so used to seeing him, but lately… well...it's been about a little over a month now since he’d visited, " she added with notable melancholy, clearly missing the man she spoke of,

" But… But I know he's alright!" She suddenly chirped, the idea of him doing well immediately perking her up, because she wished nothing but the best for the man, regardless of where they stood in their relationship,

- or in this case, lack of.

" Going strong!" She said with a triumphant grin as she looked at the porter before her. “And I’m just so proud of him…” She added with a little murmur, her little grin twitching.

' That was expected...I suppose,' he thought to himself as he watched her stretched out smile, seeing the rollercoaster ride that was her emotions.

He just wanted to reach out to her, coddle her like the precious little thing she was, tell her that everything was alright, because her expressions were making it hard for him to just stand there and watch her,

" The last time he was here, I offered him this room.” She confessed, and it had been as he assumed, and though he’d had a hunch, it still scathed him,

“Yeah?” he breathed.

“Yeah, I actually had it set up just for him." She admitted, her face touched by a soft, innocent color, one Monaghan stared at with austounment because it was something he desperately yearned to have the ability to cause.

" I wanted him to be safe, You know? I wanted him to have a place to rest; I wanted him to have somewhere where he can relax because I know how hard his life is.” She started, the first part of her tale sounding so full of hope and love, it touched him.

“ I care about him more than I should.” She admitted, sounding somewhat ashamed, yet certain about her declaration.

'I love him, ' She silently admitted it, not needing to say so, because the other man could already assume.

" The first time I met him was a couple of months back, he'd made a delivery for me; A very simple one, it being just a couple of little trinkets I had ordered." She started, looking whimsical as she thought of the fateful day, " he got them back to me in one piece, not a single scratch." she said recalling the event, sounding just as astounded as she’d been that very day,

" And you can imagine: I was so amazed, absolutely astonished when he got them all here.

Hell, not even the container itself had any damage!" she added with stun.

“ The first time I met him I was so impressed and I guess I was also taken by him too,” She went on, sounding so cute to the brunette male, “ In the past, I've had a couple of Porter's come by now and then.” she told him, “ they often make small deliveries for me but with Sam?

With Sam, It all felt so different.

I wanted him to stay with me.

I wanted to hear more of him.

I desperately yearned to travel at his side, though I know very well it's not idealistic, I wanted to accompany him every step of the way.

It's silly...

But a girl in love… she can only dream ," She mused with a whimsical, little sigh.

"Sam... Sam’s... not like anyone else." She said breathlessly, a glazed look falling over her, one that was painfully lovesick.

"Sam… " Higgs mumbled, repeating it back to her.

" That wouldn't happen to be THE Sam Bridges everyone is raving about, would it?" He asked her, interested, making it seem a though it’d been a far stretched inquiry.

At his question, she became notably stiff.

He could see her hands hold onto each other, wringing each other uncomfortably as she licked her lips,

'I know dear, but just tell me more,' he mused, watching her with his heart running so fast it could catch fire.

‘ Tell me everything, open yourself to me.

- Just Trust me’

Chuckling she showed off a cute touch of pink to her cheeks, finally mustering up the will to answer,

“You’d be right to assume,” she affirmed.

“ Sam…what can I say about him?” She asked herself, not knowing just where to begin, having so much to say about the man, too much to just go over in just one sitting,“ Sam is quiet, a sad quiet that just makes me want to hold him. He is thoughtful and caring in a way that doesn't beg for anything in return.” she said with the same touch of rose,

“ Sam is handsome in a way only a lonely man can be…” she described the bridges porter while her hand went up to her chest, grazing the spot above her heart.

“He is sweet and it's noticeable...

When he talks to his BB; when he says sweet little words to her...That's when his softness shines through the most. And at those very moments one could easily capture every bit of him that's gentle.” she surmised.

“ And he cuddles her so sweetly, just like someone would their own child...

You know, it’s to a point, I’m actually starting to think he loves it in the same way one would their own child,” she mused, not seeming bothered by the fact , “ But maybe I’m overthinking it,” she added afterward.

“ I could be imagining it, but even then, if that weren’t the case, there is no doubt in my mind that she is precious to him. The fact remains," she said while looking at Higgs Straightforth.

“ Higgs, can I tell you something?” she asked, looking timid to reveal to him the next part, taking his slow nod of approval as a confidence boost to speak,

“ When I see him with her, it just makes my heart beat so fast.” she breathed, “ It makes me wish we...I...” For just a fraction of a second, her hand began to trail down, falling over her stomach, the sight causing Higgs to swallow down hard.

“I wish I could have the opportunity to give him that,” she confessed.

On one hand,

‘You’d look absolutely beautiful,' he thought to himself. 'You'd look just perfect,' he went on, just imagining her in such a state, the thought of her pregnant making his heart warm,

On the other hand,

'Of all people...

Of all things…

Honey... you're breaking my heart.

Your making me so jealous I might snap, ‘

Devoid of any emotion that would give himself away, Higgs continued to simply look at her, outwardly unresponsive to her confession. At his silence and moreso, his expressionless, stoic face she coughed into her hand, somewhat regretting opening up that bit to him,

“As...As I was saying, Sam...Sam has a beautiful heart,” she beamed to him,

“ He has so much compassion in him, despite the way he might seem, there is so much beauty within his chest.

And That's what I love most about him... that tenderness, the one that's not so visible through his words.

Through it all, I love that sweet kindness that's there, but hidden away because he's afraid of something.” (f/n) told the man before her, “ I'm not sure what it is, but I know he's afraid and it makes me hurt.

Sam makes me love but also hurt at the same time," she confessed to Higgs.

“ But you know what? I wouldn't trade this feeling for anyone else, or for anything else in the world." She told him, the admittance shaking his very being because he’d planned to go against it. He didn’t want to take it to heart, wanting to sway her to him instead.

“He...” She mumbled, chewing over the next bit of her tale, “He...”she repeated as she then closed her eyes, hanging her head with defeat as she swallowed up a long, exasperated breath.

" You can tell me everything…" he piped up, the encouragement causing her to slightly melt, a little, shaky breath escaping her, because he let her know that she wasn't troubling him, and that there was no shame in showing him her heart,

“He didn't even look me in the eyes,” (f/n) told him, the information drawing him in, “He spoke so quietly… sounding just as broken as I am now,” she admitted, her eyes slowly growing wetter,

“ Up to date hasn't answered an email of mine. He hasn't even opened the one I sent him…

The one where I told him how much I loved him." she said while taking a seat on the bed, staring down at her hands with a halfhearted glare,

“I….I’d like to think he’d busy,” she said with a small nod, trying to sound hopeful,

“ Maybe he has too much on his mind.

Maybe he’s just too far away right now.

Maybe…

Maybe he hasn’t forgotten about me.

Maybe he’ll come back... He’ll come back and... and until then...I...I can, - “

She rambled, her words jumbling before she released a small, throaty hiccup,

“ I can wait…” she breathed, tears spilling from her (e/c) colored eyes, the streams slowly cascading down her face,

“ I can wait for Sam!” she said with a cracking voice.

The more she spoke, the more her chest ached, her words knotted in her throat as she released a strangled sound that was akin to a short sob, tears falling down her face before she had a mind to stop herself from breaking.

She hadn’t wanted to break, but it was like rolling downhill, once she was going, she couldn’t stop, plundering down the furthermore she went until she crashed down,

" Hey," Higgs said softly, also sitting with her, a hand taking hold of her cheek while the other lay flat on her back, rubbing soothing, small circles,

‘Sweetheart...please,’ he inwardly begged, his face distraught as he watched her break down, her tears not ceasing as she continued to shake, the weight of all her suffrage attacking her full force.

Because it wasn’t just about Sam being gone.

It was about the lonesome years spent isolated.

It was about the endless rain that kept her locked in, trapped.

Moreover, it was the disconnection from a population that should have long been extinct.

In some sort of way, Sam was her connection, her bridge to the world. He was the only thing she had that kept her somewhat sane, fueling her to continue.

She’d decided to accept he wasn’t going to return, but it was much harder than just saying so,

‘Because I have nothing but him...’

Unwillingly, a lonesome tear fell down the right side of his face, falling onto her (h/c) colored hair as he brought her close, her shaking body pressed against his as he forced her still,

‘ Do you know (f/n)... that before all of this happened…

You were meant to be with me?’ He silently asked her,

' Are you aware that our flames are identical?' He thought to himself, feeling her melt, pressed against his chest.

‘ Darling... You're so lonely,

Sweetheart… you’re sadness is contagious to me, ‘

Shakenly, her hands crawled up his back, her stiff fingers trailing up its length before they stopped, holding onto him desperately.

‘Fuck… sweetie… your heartbeat… ‘ he thought while the hand on her back could feel the powerful, erratic pace,

“You alright (f/n)?” he asked her, receiving a hiccup back, her head shaking 'no', the women being unable to put up any type of front.

“ Look at me,” he muttered softly, his hands both falling on to her shoulders, offering her a dazzling smile, “ It’s alright you know?” he assured her, looking deep within her (e/c) colored eyes.

“Everything‘s going to be alright,” he promised her, seeming certain.

‘ You’ll get over him.

You won't miss him

I swear to you sweetie… I’ll make all of that go away.’

He held her, tenderly caressing her while she broke down, the overflowed dam that was her heart shattered as she let loose of absolutely everything that she harbored, for a reason unknown to her trusting the man who was essentially a stranger.

' I swear to you I'll make it all go away...' he thought to himself while finally being able to take hold of her, knowing he couldn't trace back and fall into the darkness again, at least not without her in his arms,

‘Just keep trusting me (f/n)...

Keep melting onto me....

Keep trusting mer...

You feel it too, don’t you?

Don’t worry, once you forget about Bridges, you can focus all on us...’

Next Part : Stolen Princess

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alpacaparkaseok · 4 years ago

Text

Where you should be

Chapter 3: Nemesism

Genre: Hobi x oc

Warnings: this series contains stalking, blackmail, and similar stressful/fear inducing situations. Also unrequited love, which is perhaps the most terrifying of all.

Word Count: 3.8k

Guys! Last chapter was a bit of a downer lol. I wish I could say that all of this gets resolved quickly and easily, but that’s no fun. So enjoy!

Nemesism (n.) frustration or anger directed against oneself

The next morning I hardly see Hobi. He eats early, making me a smoothie and leaving it on the counter with my name.

Well, with a sticky note that says ‘Sunny’.

I can hear his music blasting from his room where he’s getting ready, it’s loud enough that he doesn't hear my loud breathing as I close my eyes and try to focus on just getting through this morning.

When it’s time for us to leave Hobi walks out into the living room to find me standing awkwardly before the window, staring out of it like I just might flee the scene before he can see me.

“Do-yun sent a car for you, it should be outside.”

They’re the first words he says to me all morning, and they have me turning around from where I stand before the window, the meaning behind his words enough to rake through my already shredded heart.

“Hobi-”

Just as I begin to speak he turns away, starting to walk from the room. A heartbeat later finds me striding toward him, throwing caution to the wind.

“Jung Hoseok, don’t you dare do this to me. Don’t you dare,” I jump in front of him, putting a stop to his escape. He keeps his eyes trained on the hallway beyond. “You’re going to start being all weird and distant, and I can’t...I can’t-”

My voice breaks a little until I’m suddenly drowning in tears. I’m just as shocked as Hobi is, and I bring my hands up to my face, trying to stop the flow.

“I- Ha-rin, I didn’t mean to-”

My face is burning with embarrassment as I realize that I have no right to be bawling like a baby in front of the man that just confessed his love to me last night. He has every right to be distant and angry, yet here I am sobbing before him.

But I want him.

I want him so bad. And he’s standing less than a foot away, that sad expression swimming in his eyes as he brings me into his arms, his cheek resting atop my head.

Don’t ever let me go.

“We’re a mess, aren’t we?” Hobi mumbles.

I laugh through the tears, melting into his embrace as Hobi laughs along. How can we still be laughing even after we’ve put our hearts through so much pain?

Standing there with my face pressed up against his shoulder, crying and laughing at the same time, the realization of my feelings for him hit me hard and fast. Sure, the foundation has been laid for a while now, but standing here with my heart in pieces and completely unable to pick up Hoseok’s shattered heart, I know what I feel.

There’s a difference between wanting someone and loving someone.

If I just wanted Hoseok, I would have bailed out on any sort of integrity I have left and told him right then and there that I was an idiot. That I couldn’t stand not being around him. That I want to be his, and I want him to be mine.

Yet, I love him.

Which is exactly what has me extracting myself from his arms, apologizing, and heading straight out the door.

I only allow myself to look back once as I close the door, clutching my things in my arms. There he stands, still facing the hallway. Clinging to his sweatshirt in his fists as though it’s the only thing keeping him on the earth.

Sitting in the back of the black SUV, I wonder how I can feel such different emotions at once. There’s peace knowing I did what I had to do.

And there’s loneliness, cursing my name for throwing away what was sure to be a cure.

♟

June 2019

“That sounds great,” I say into the mic. “Come out here and listen to it, then we’ll go from there.”

Soobin, Hueningkai, and Beomgyu exit the recording booth and head into the studio. They crowd around me, leaning in to listen to the latest version of the song.

We’ve been in here for about an hour now, going over a rough version of a new song for them. It’s been nice to have them around, I’m usually pretty alone in my studio. Other than the occasional visit from Dohyeong or Pdogg, I tend to have my space.

Space is...good.

We’ve just started listening to the recording when there’s a knock on my door. Swiveling around in my chair, I grin as I see who the visitor is.

“Well well,” I muse. “Look who decided to drop in.”

Dohyeong smiles back at me, saying hello to the other boys. “How’s it going?”

I shrug. “Good. We’re just working on some stuff. What’s up?”

“I was actually coming to steal you away for a bit. I need a second opinion on something. Unless you’re busy…?”

Glancing at the other boys, they wave me away. “Will it take long?”

“No, not too long.”

Getting up from my seat, I laugh as Hueningkai immediately takes the vacant seat. “Take your time,” he croons, enjoying the seat of power. The other two boys instantly start bickering over the chair, making me roll my eyes endearingly at them.

“I’ll be back soon. Don’t delete anything.”

I follow Dohyeong out the door, taking the stairs as we head up to the next floor where his studio is.

“So how’s it been going?”

Dohyeong is one of the only people I ever really see around the Bighit building these days. Other than TXT and a handful of other producers, it’s a ghost town on my floor of the building.

I guess I never noticed how little traffic there was on my floor before. I always had one visitor popping in.

Ever since February, Hoseok has been scarce. While he didn’t seem to be angry anymore, he certainly hasn’t gone out of his way to seek me out. I can’t say I blame him.

It’s made it a little easier, I think. Not seeing him everywhere I go has allowed me to buckle down and get to work without feeling sorry for myself.

“It’s been good. Pretty steady. What are you working on that you wanted me to look at?”

We’re just entering his studio as I finish my question, and I nearly fall flat on my face as we walk through the door.

It would appear that Dohyeong was not working alone. In fact, the entire rapline is here with Pdogg.

Namjoon paces back and forth on one side of the room, hardly even noticing my presence when I walk through the door. Yoongi sits in a chair beside Pdogg, chatting with him about the track.

Hoseok sits on the sofa in the back of the room, his elbows on his knees as he stares forward, lost in thought.

His hair is black now, so different from those honey-brown highlights I swooned over a few months ago. Now he looks much sharper, like a force to be reckoned with.

He looks dangerous.

“Really Dohyeong?” I try to keep my tone light as everyone in the room turns to look at me. “Second opinion?”

Dohyeong shrugs, moving to sit before his computer. “If I told you I needed your opinion, you would’ve told me to ask Pdogg or something.”

Pdogg chuckles, nodding along knowingly. “Nice to see you, Sunny. You never come around anymore. Too cool for us now?”

It takes every fiber of my being for me to not look at Hoseok.

“Just been busy,” I mumble, coming to stand beside Dohyeong’s chair. “How’ve you been?”

Pdogg shrugs. “Same old same old.”

Namjoon strides forward, never one to get bogged down with awkward small talk. Not when there’s work to be done. “Hey, Sunny. Would you mind listening to this for us? I think we’ve all been listening to it for so long that we can’t get a fresh perspective on it.”

I nod, settling down into the chair beside Dohyeong and slipping a pair of headphones on. “Anything I need to know going into it?”

Yoongi chuckles from behind me, causing me to turn about in my chair. In the process, I can’t help but peek over at Hoseok.

He’s looking right at me already, every bit of his attention honed in on me. My eyes graze his, and the momentary eye contact leaves me sparking with electricity.

“Well, Hoseok wrote most of this, so it’s his fault if it sucks.” Yoongi smirks at his friend, earning himself a glare in return.

I force myself to laugh along with everyone else, wincing internally as Hoseok leans back against the sofa and crosses his ankle over his knee.

Has he somehow become better looking over the past few months?

“Good to know,” I mumble, turning back to the screen. Dohyeong nods at me, starting the track.

From the corner of my eye I can see that everyone else has gone back to pacing or chatting, so I take the time to lean back against my chair and close my eyes, really taking it in.

I can definitely tell that Hoseok inspired a lot of this track, it sounds like him. RM starts it off, his voice gruff as he delivers the lyrics, painting a picture in the way that only he can.

Suga joins in on the chorus, and I frown. His voice is nearly drowned out from the heavy drums in the background. I make a mental note to tell them as much.

It’s not until the bridge that J-hope makes an appearance.

My heart begins to pound in my chest, and my eyes fly open as I stare at the monitor. I watch the small numbers counting down until the end of the song, begging them to pick up the pace. Hoseok’s voice lodges itself into my mind, and for a moment the words end it before it can begin are replaced by the phrase he keeps spitting out again and again.

You moved on before I could move you.

You moved on before I had a chance to move-

My knee hits the bottom of the desk as I rip the headphones off my head, tossing them onto the desk before launching out of my chair. Everyone freezes where they sit, looking at me with various levels of confusion.

Hoseok is the only one in the entire room that has yet to react to my sudden actions. He keeps his eyes down, picking at something on his sleeve. His chest doesn’t move as he refuses to breathe.

“Drums are too loud in the chorus, Yoongi.” I bite out the words, ripping my attention away from Hoseok. “They’re drowning out your voice.”

Yoongi nods slowly, his mouth hanging open as he stares at me. “Ok.”

Namjoon steps forward, hands outstretched as though trying to grasp the situation. “You didn’t even finish the song, though. Isn’t there anything else?”

I’ve already taken several steps toward the door, Hoseok’s voice ringing through my mind unceasingly. Turning to shake my head at Namjoon, I feel as though somebody set me on fire. “No. Sounds great. Sorry,” I lie, I really couldn’t care less. I have to get out of here. “I’ve got to go check on the boys.”

The door gives way and I’m out into the hallway, striding toward the elevator like my life depends on it. I decide against it once I get there, heading into the stairwell beside the elevator and making it down a total of five steps before I collapse and sit with my head between my legs.

You moved on before I could move you.

The walls are caving in on me as I sit in the stairwell, and I close my eyes tight against them. Eventually it becomes too much to handle, and I find myself launching up and climbing up the stairs.

I’m not completely sure how tall the Bighit building is, but it’s definitely tall enough that I’m a panting, sweaty mess by the time I clear the final floor. Staring at the door, I push through it and find myself in an empty hallway.

The sound of music coming from what I assume are training rooms at the end of the hallway meet my ears, and as though in a trance I gravitate toward the sound.

The music gets louder and louder as I approach the room. The door is closed, so whoever is inside must be blasting it. Leaning up against the wall just outside the room, I close my eyes for just a moment.

The bass vibrates through the floor, accompanied by the persistent music that seems to know just how horrible I’m feeling inside.

For the first time in my life, I understand why people say that there’s only a thin line between love and hate.

Standing here with my back pressed against the wall, I feel so much hate. It’s overwhelming, overtaking my senses as I clench my fingers into fists. If my eyes were open, I’m sure I would be seeing red.

Instead, I’m picturing my contract in my mind. The music swells as I picture signing that contract over and over again, laughing at the thought of ever getting to know any idols past a purely professional level.

There’s so much anger in me as I think over the past few months, remembering all those hours spent alone in the studio. Staring at my monitor, the same scene from Hoseok’s apartment playing over and over again in my mind as I try to pretend like nothing happened. The way I held my breath every time I heard footsteps coming down my hallway, some pathetic piece of my praying that it would be Hobi, coming with a bag of food and a sheepish smile, telling me that being friends was enough for him.

I should know better by now; I live in a world where Hoseok is a stranger to me now and I’m back to taking the bus.

Still, in those slower hours in the studio I find myself wondering what it would be like if I could tell him that I do love him. I love him still, four months later. That all of this was some horrible rule I had to follow in order to save us both.

But even in this world how could I look him in the eyes that once gazed at me so softly and tell him that he’ll move on? That he’ll find someone that is free to love him?

Hate is an addicting feeling, I realize. Hate is so much safer than love. Love requires you to make the right decision, even if it means you’ll come out lacking.

The music stopped.

My eyes open to find myself almost in another world. The hallway hasn’t changed at all, but the absence of the booming music almost makes it easier to breathe. Suddenly I’m no longer drowning in my feelings, but rather observing them.

The sound of someone nearly hyperventilating has me pushing off the wall, rushing over to the closed training room and throwing it open before another thought can cross my mind.

Even though the door flying open should have alerted the occupant to my presence, they don’t notice me as I stand in the doorway.

Hoseok sits with his back against the far wall, his knees pulled up to his chest as he runs his hands through his hair and over his face. He’s still wearing the same clothes as he was less than fifteen minutes ago in the studio downstairs, but it’s clear he was just working out in them. Most likely dancing, if I’m going to make a guess.

How did he get up here so fast?

Frozen in the doorway, I go over my options. They’re quite simple, seeing as there’s really only two.

First, turn and leave. Run away before he sees me. It’s tempting, especially because it already looks like I’m invading his privacy.

And second.... “The song wasn’t that bad.”

Hoseok’s head shoots up so fast that I’m afraid he hit it against the wall. His eyes are wide and he looks quite frankly exhausted. I wince at the look he gives me.

“What...” his voice is raw and I wonder how it got like that. He shakes his head, looking down at the floor.

I take one step forward, then one step back. Hoseok’s eyes shutter as he watches my uncertainty, but he makes no move to say anything else.

So tired.

He looks so drained. Like someone took a giant spoon and ladled out all of his leftover emotions, leaving him a drained well that is just waiting for another rain.

Suddenly the thought of me hiding in my studio and replaying this entire awkward experience in my head seems more horrible to me than talking to Hoseok, so I take another step inside the room. His eyes never leave the floor.

“Is everything...” I shake my head, trying to gain some courage. Did my heart always beat this hard around him before? “Is everything alright?”

Hoseok chews on the inside of his cheek as he ponders my stupid question. Then, almost as if changing clothes, his expression changes. Brightens, almost.

I can still see the dark storm clouds hovering over his head, though. No matter how brightly he smiles at me now, those rain clouds aren’t far behind.

“Fine.” He brushes his hair away from his face, reverting back to the meticulous Hoseok I know. “Did you see...?”

I frantically shake my head, earning a look of profound relief on Hoseok’s part. “No! No, I was just-” I pause, not entirely sure of what to say. Running from my undying love for you and the hate of what we’ve become doesn’t seem very appropriate.

Hoseok raises his brows, rising to his feet but remaining on the opposite side of the room. “Just what?”

“Just...going for a walk.”

“A walk?”

“Yep.”

I cringe as Hoseok takes a long look at me before turning away and heading toward the speaker system in the corner. “Do you have a tendency to take walks to the top floor?”

Is that worry I’m sensing? I realize with a start that perhaps Hoseok spends a lot of time up here, and I think that the lack of visitors on this floor might have something to do with that.

“...no.” Watching Hoseok’s back, which remains visibly tense, I take a step backward. “I should probably get going.”

He nods once. “Ok.”

“I…” Why can’t I form a proper sentence around this man? “Sorry. Bye.” Turning on my heel, I stride out of the room as quickly as possible, keeping my eyes ahead of me as my heart nearly pounds out of my chest. Throwing the door to the stairwell open, I don’t stop moving until I’ve returned to my studio.

Beomgyu jumps out of my chair when he sees me come in, his smug victory smile wiped off his face.

“Is everything alright?”

Well isn’t that the question of the day. “Yep. Did you guys listen to the track?”

Soobin steps up. “Yeah, it sounds great. We were just going to pass it along-”

“Perfect. I’ll export it to your project manager right now.”

In my peripheral I can see the three boys exchanging glances, but I pay them no mind. Perhaps tomorrow I’ll be mortified and apologize, but right now I would really like for them to leave.

They shuffle out, mumbling their farewells. Hueningkai turns around at the last moment. “Do you want me to leave the door open or close it?”

Swiveling in my chair, wave him off. “Closed, please.” He does just as I ask, and suddenly I’m alone in the studio listening to their retreating footsteps.

Closing my eyes, I gather the strength to get up and lock the door. Something tells me that I won’t want to be interrupted for a while.

I’ve just risen from my chair when an envelope slides under my door, making my breath catch in my throat. Hurried footsteps rush down the hallway, but I don’t bother to open the door to see who it is.

Picking up the envelope from off the floor, I frown when it isn’t labeled. It’s simply a white, blank envelope. Ripping it open, I unfold a piece of notebook paper.

I know who you are, but do you know who I am?

Bighit can’t save you now, Jung Ha-rin.

Instantly my heart rate kicks up as I read those words over and over again. Rushing to my door, I pull it open to see who left this horrible note only to find the hallway empty. Standing there in the middle of the corridor, I fight the urge to rip the note to shreds and cry in a corner.

The sound of me barging back into my studio and slamming the door shut reverberates throughout the entire floor, but the sound of my heart pounding drowns out the noise. I hold the note back up to my eyes, practically panting as I read it again.

“What is happening?” I whisper.

♟

When I leave later that night, I still have no idea what’s going on. I leave earlier than usual, although it’s still dark. Mentally cursing myself, I decide to just hope for the best. With my luck today, I’ll be kidnapped or something before I can even make it to my apartment.

I sent a picture of the note to Bang PD along with a short explanation of what happened. He told me that he would review the security cameras to get a look at who it was that delivered the message, but advised me to catch a ride with someone rather than taking the bus.

So naturally I’m taking the bus.

Sulking at the bus stop while keep my eyes and ears open for any suspicious activity, I can’t help but laugh a little.

Today sucked.

Just as the bus pulls up, I feel my phone vibrate. Scrambling onto the bus and sitting in the first available seat, I pull my phone out and nearly choke when I see what message I just received.

I can’t help the sound that comes out of me upon seeing his message - it’s a mixture of a groan and a sharp intake of breath, resulting in a coughing fit. The people closest to me glare and scoot farther away but I don’t care.

Staring down at his message, I have to breathe slowly and deeply in order to stop myself. As much as all of this is a dream...the note I carry in my pocket reminds me of all that’s at stake here.

Bang PD’s words accompany the note, repeating themselves over and over again in my mind as I punch out a reply.

End it before it can begin.

Shoving my phone back into my pocket before I give into temptation, I jump off the bus as my apartment complex comes into view. Keeping my head down, I hurry up to my apartment.

As soon as I enter the apartment I’m rushing to my room, grabbing a box from under my bed and rummaging through it until I find what I’m searching for.

“There you are.” Holding up a staff photo from when I first started at Source entertainment, my eyes zone in on one of the male staff members on the far end.

Now just add a hood, a bit of scruff, and crazy eyes. What is my old co-worker doing hanging around my apartment complex? And if my hunch is correct, what was he doing in the Bighit building today?

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taglist: @taylorroe3 @dreamcatcherjiah @diorhoba @eusticenatalie @ddaeng-i-need-help

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angelicmichael · 4 years ago

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Imminient Annihilation Sounds so Dope, Chapter Eight.

Michael Langdon x reader

Summary: Reader gets to take care of a overly drunk Michael and attempts to make the most of the situation.

Words: 2.3K+

Warnings: Throwing up, someone being super drunk lol and passing out.

A/N: Sorry I haven’t updated this in forever! Lol. I hope y’all like this 🥺 I wrote the first half to this over two months ago so.. I feel like the first half sucks but I’m proud of the ending! Lol. Please reblog or heart if you enjoy ♥️

Previous Chapter

Next Chapter

Today you learned how much you preferred dealing with drunk Michael than sober Michael. Even though drunk Michael had thrown up at least two times in the past hour, but at least in this state he seemed to go mute. Michael being sloppily drunk seemed to make him not sloppy at all but more like very relaxed, less taunting, not so fucking mean and most importantly; not threatening or trying to kill you.

You two were currently in his hotel, which naturally, was another nice penthouse. It was nearly painfully easy to find directions to his hotel by ‘hacking’ into his phone, and you were surprised to see how.. unlike him his hotel looked. You were expecting candles and pentagrams but there only seemed to be folded fluffy white towels and a neatly made bed instead. You guessed he just arrived here today, since the hotel literally looked untouched.

There was a black bag in the room which you could only presume was his, and a couple bottles of dark red wine were littered around his bed. The manner in which the light reflected off of the bottles told you that the bottles were empty; which meant Michael was a hell of a lot more drunk than you had previously thought.

Michaels penthouse was unlike the own he owned in L.A. This one was large and spacious, the floor plan was open execpt one room; which you presumed was the bathroom. It had a nice view also, which was the one similar feature both of his penthouses held. The room was sleek and black execpt for the shockingly white sheets of the bed and curtains, and the towels of course.

You and Micheal both sat in the bathroom currently. He sat on the floor next to the toilet whilst you sat on the wall adjacent to where he was sitting, next to the bathtub. He was shirtless, which was your idea actually. Only because the less clothes he had to get vomit on the better.

Your phone was on the ground next to you, which frequently illuminated the room since the lights were kept dimmed. You figured there was no need for harsh lights since it seemed to just be irritating Michael. You knew Mallory was the one sending you texts, she was basically the only one who texted you in the first place - even before you met Michael. You felt it was better to not look at your phone at the moment though, Mallory could wait a few hours. Michael was the one who truly needed your attention at the moment.

You weren’t sure why you felt so compelled to be nice to Micheal and take care of him like this. Maybe it was because you felt so guilty for hurting Madison.. this was really the only way you knew how to pay him back for doing that.

You knew hands down he would never do anything like this for you. In fact, Madison and Micheal himself tried to kill you a mere couple days ago but things were different then.. right? Maybe it was just you being delusional but you felt like ever since you established you were stronger than Micheal; the dynamic changed between you two.

Although; you couldn’t help but to feel sad, or almost nostalgic for this moment. You knew this would only moment where you would have the chance to have a heart to heart with Michael or tell him what was truly on your mind. It didn’t really matter was you said to him at this point, he was so drunk - there was no way he would remember it tomorrow.

However, Micheal wasn’t talking much at the moment and you didn’t really mind that. You didn’t blame him for being quiet since he was incredibly sick, but it also disappointed you a bit since he was the only one you felt like talking too. He was the only one that might get or understand how you were feeling, you could only imagine he felt dissapoinyed you were his soulmate as well. He was in love with Madison, head over heels. So you took a chance, and you spoke.

“Michael, are you awake”? You asked.

He was bent over the toilet and you couldn’t exactly see if his eyes were open or not. His hands were on the rim of the toilet seat and his head rested on his hands, he nearly looked asleep. However when you spoke he sat up suddenly, with a dazed look in his eyes.

“Wassup”? He slurred.

You swallowed, you knew this would be the only opportunity to ‘attempt’ to have a heart to heart with Michael. You would probably never get this kind of opportunity again but you were nervous. It was irrational though because Micheal would never remember this conversation. You had nothing to really be scared of.

You broke eye contact and stared at your feet briefly as you spoke, and then looked at him again.

“Michael.. I’m sorry for what happened to Madison”. You said quietly.

You waited for him to do or even to say something but he just sat there, as if he didn’t really process what you just said. You shouldn’t have been surprised at his reaction, he was still very drunk after all. You quickly continued to keep talking, which ended up just coming out as you rambling.

“Well, I mean I was just defending myself. I’m not sorry for doing that but I’m sorry for how out of hand it got. It wasn’t my intention to hurt her I was just scared-“ You tried to keep going but Michael interrupted you.

“I know”. He said suddenly, looking into your eyes with a far-off, almost dead look in his eyes.

You knew it was probably because he was drunk but the way he was looking at you, made you feel incredibly uncomfterable.. Almost on edge.

His words made your skin crawl as well. If he really knew how you felt, if he had any empathy for you then he wouldn’t have literally tried to kill you with his girlfriend. You sat up a bit straighter and stretched a bit before replying and looking at him again.

“Michael you don’t know. If you really knew how I felt then you wouldn’t have tried to kill me-“

You immeaditly stopped talking once you realized Michael swiftly bent his back over the toilet and was gripping the edges of it for dear life as he threw his guts up - once again.

You managed to scramble over to him insanely fast, not really knowing what exactly to do - touching or rubbing his back seemed to intimate so you settled for just sitting next to him and making sure he didn’t choke on his own vomit. Every time he threw up, you could feel your heart skip a beat - you hated how you were concerned for him but yet, you just kind of wanted him to be okay.

He let go of the toilet and sat back suddenly which made you back off a bit as he looked at you as if he didn’t even notice how close you were. He was breathing heavy, extremely out of breath from being sick and there were tears in his eyes. Most likely from how exhausted he was from throwing up. In between his heavy breaths, he managed to throw out a,

“I’m sorry”. His words came out cold and sudden but yet; held a hint of sincereness to them.

You didn’t know what exactly what Michael was referring too, if he was sorry for the incident that had occurred with Madison or for the fact he had just thrown up. Either way, you knew not to take him too seriously - he was drunk. He didn’t necessarily mean anything he was saying. They were simply words with no meaning. Still, you couldn’t help but feel empathetic toward him. You looked at him, into his hazy blue eyes as you next spoke.

“It’s okay”. You replied softly.

You stayed silent for a couple of moments that, in reality probably only lasted a few minuets but felt like hours. You didn’t bother to move away; you now sat a couple feet away from him. It didn’t take long at all for the silentness of the bathroom to drive you mad, the sound of the bathroom vent seemed to become deafening to the point where you couldn’t take it anymore. Being silent like this was silly, being quiet and alone with your thoughts when you really didn’t have to be when Michael was here - was purely idiotic. So you chose to speak again. Just sitting in his bathroom waiting for him to throw up again seemed to be painfully unbearable.

“Michael.. why are you doing this? Why did you get painfully wasted”? You asked, with a slight giggle.

Your not sure what exactly you were expecting, maybe some witty or snarky comeback but he sounded defeated in the words he decided to use next.

“Take a guess”. He mused.

Maybe it was just a figment of your imagination or perhaps the haziness of being extremly tired had started to take over, but you could swear that Michael had stopped slurring his words. Almost seeming to speak completely coherently.

You sat their puzzled as you licked your lips and noticed your mouth was growing exceptionally dry as you tried to find a response. You really had no idea why Michael seemed to have a sudden change of heart and was even attempting to befriend you? It really made no sense.

“Your trying to kill me again”. The words came out before you even processed or thought about what you were about to say but you kept talking.

“You befriending me; this whole ‘ploy’ of you being nice to me is just good acting. You don’t care about me - you proven that far too many times Michael. Your just getting close to me so you can try to kill me again”. You said, emotion thick within your voice and tears even started to gather in your eyes by the time you were done with your little speech.

You stared down at your feet in shame, not daring to look Michael in the eyes. Your breath was hitched in your throat; you stopped breathing, it wasn’t necessarily a choice but you knew that if you took another breath you would end up sobbing. Admitting all of this, your deep insecurities to Michael - even if he was drunk - was already too much vulnerability for you.

After sitting like that for a moment, you started to feel extremely lightheaded - as if the world was spinning from the lack of oxygen when you suddenly felt strongly compelled to look up - and you did so.

You let go of the breath you were holding in so tightly when you noticed Michael had crawled towards you, and was now sitting terribly close to you. Too close.

His legs were drawn up near his chest and he looked at you curiously. Your notion of him being sober was clearly false, that was easy to tell now that you were looking at him up close. The way in which his eyes could barely stay focused and his mannerisms told you he clearly still had alcohol in his system. He continued to look puzzled as he spoke.

“Who hurt you like that, to make you think that way”? Michael asked.

You could tell by the way that he spoke that his words were genuine but you couldn’t help it as you felt anger boil in your veins. Was he that naive?

“What would you say, if I said it was you that did”? You words came spitting out as if you were breathing fire.

Michael looked around the room for a second as he lazily laughed. Your thoughts of him being sober seemed to come back to you, it was odd how he seemed to act like his sober self one minuete and drunk the next. You supposed it was just another thing you would never understand about him.

“Me? I barely know you”! Michael said, the words stifling with laughter. His laughter seemed to echo throughout the room until it seemingly was the only thing you could fucking hear and you had enough. You were more powerful than Michael, he did NOT get to talk down to you or mock you like this.

You would be the fucking supreme, and if you really wanted too, you could probably even kill him if you had no morals but it lucky for him, you weren’t a sociopath.

You quickly shot up so that you were on your two feet - standing up so fast that your head started to spin lightly again. You noticed how Michaels eyes were on you now as he watched as you tried to navigate yourself out of the bathroom as you were now incredibly light headed.

“Wait, where are you going”? You heard Michael ask as you turned around away from him.

You knew realistically he could only be barely a foot or so away but his voice sounded echoey and far away - almost like he was in another room. You also couldn’t help but giggle at his choice of words - that was definetly drunk Michael talking again.

At first you weren’t planning on responding to him but just as your hand found the door handle you whipped your head around - just enough to make eye contact.

“I never should’ve came back here with you. This was a fucking mistake. I should’ve known that you would never change”. You growled out.

You turned your body and your head back around quickly, but as you grabbed the door handle you felt the room spin faster and faster and you felt incredibly unsteady - until you finally lost your footing and fell backwards onto the hardwood floor.

Taglist: @mindlesschicca @mina672 @michaellangdonstanaccount @langdonsexual @jimmason @blakewaterxx @thewarriorprincessxo @theneverendinghunger @dark-mei-rose

#my works #my fic #imminient annihilation sounds so dope #AHS #fanfic #fan fiction #Michael Langdon #Michael Langdon x reader #Michael x reader #I felt like I should use my normal taglist on this fic so that’s why I did so lmao #I know everyone doesn’t read this fic!#also I’m laughing cause I feel like Reader always has a mental breakdown every chapter dhdkdjs #I really hope you guys like this tho!!

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willow-salix · 4 years ago

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Fluffember prompt: Bedtime

@gumnut-logic its ya boi again...

Day 10 of Isolation on Tracy Island 2.0

She regretted picking the extra strong coffee, both for what it did to Alan and the fact that, even though she said she felt fine, she couldn’t seem to make her eyes stay closed.

Alan had indeed drunk the entire jug of chocolate chip frappe masquerading as an innocent milkshake and it wasn’t just colours that were behaving weirdly for him. He seemed to be vibrating with hyperactive energy, bouncing around in a permanent state of alertness that I usually only saw from John or Scott when he’d been chugging those energy drinks to get his late night mission reports finished.

We tried everything to wear him out and settle him down, but it was like having an overly excited puppy with springs for legs trying to get your attention.

“Scott! Scott! SCOTTTT! Look what I can do!” he yelled and proceeded to plant his hands on the floor, flip his legs up into the air and try to run on his hands. He didn’t get far.

Scott’s groan of despair was so deep and heartfelt, I wondered if he might walk out and never return. I hadn’t heard that one since Brandon last came for dinner and told us all about how he'd abseiled for charity wearing a fluffy bear costume, which didn’t sound too bad until you heard that he hadn't been wearing anything underneath it. Apparently the suit was very hot and heavy so he had decided, after trying it on for a few practice descents on an indoor wall, to forgo what he considered unnecessary clothing. That would have been fine if he hadn’t caught the tail on a jagged rock and not noticed. Although, seeing his bare behind on a live stream had doubled the amount of donations that had poured in. Now he was planning to try naked skydiving and was trying to get us to join him. You can guess what the answer was to that.

“Come on, dudes, it’ll be like, totally extreme! Picture it, The Bear and the Boys, think of the publicity, man. You guys are like, thrill junkies, same as me. You’ll love it, the wind in your hair, adoration of millions of fans. It’ll be off the hook!” he’d rambled, getting far too excited for his own good. Scott had had to excuse himself and hide in his office for half an hour while Brandon talked excitedly to Alan about his latest videos. I left them to it too.

Anyways, where was I? Oh yeah, Alan...

“Alan will you stop!” Witchy yelled when he crashed sideways like a felled tree for the fourth time, almost taking out Gordon who was walking past, innocent for once.

“No! I can do this!” Alan protested, trying to right himself but just making it worse. “The world is upside down” he was lying on the floor at this point, “so if I make myself the same then the world will be right side up again! Simple.”

“No, not simple,” Scott groaned, helping pick Gordon up off the floor. “You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!” Alan protested. “I’m totally zen.”

I must say, his idea of zen is a lot different to mine.

Scott grabbed Alan’s legs and flipped him over, dragging him to his feet.

“Woah! Are you like a wizard or something? That was totally magical!”

"He's even starting to talk like him," Gordon mused, rubbing his elbow, sore from its collision with the side of my piano.

Witchy groaned, hiding her face in her hands. “It’s gonna be a long day, isn’t it?”

She wasn’t wrong.

It turned out that Alan hadn’t just magically appeared in the kitchen when he’d gotten hungry, no, he’d just woken up from a four hour nap and needed a drink. So, not only was he hyped up on enough caffeine to wake the dead (or John after a three day mission stint) but he was also stuffed full of sugar…

***

“Alan, it’s four in the morning, you have to settle down,” she begged, looking so worn out I thought she might keel over. I didn’t blame her, I felt roughly the same. Gordon had gone to bed hours before, as had Grandma, Kayo and Dad. I had stayed up because it was partly my fault that we were in this situation in the first place and Scott was up because he’s Scott and just has to be involved with everything.

“I can’t,” Alan argued. “I’m not tired.”

“We are!” she insisted. “You can’t stay up all night.”

“You sleep if you’re so tired,” he snapped back. He’d been doing that all day, flipping from adorably sweet and compliant to downright murderous in an instant, we were trying not to take it personally. “I’m not tired. I’m gonna call Brandon and chat to him if you guys don’t want me around.”

“No!” Scott jumped in before we could. He knew full well that if Alan spoke to Brandon in this state he’d agree to a million crazy schemes in a matter of seconds. He had to be protected for his own good.

"We do want you around," she argued. "But we also need to lie down before we fall down. So please, if you love me at all, stop trying to sneak off to eat more cookies and vegemite, because one, it's gross, and two…its gross. Where was I going with this?" she asked me, looking so confused I had to turn away so I didn't laugh.

“Do I even want to know what’s going on in here?” John asked, appearing in the doorway having apparently just arrived home. There were rules now, if he had finished his work and she was on the island he had to come home, no matter how late it was. EOS was perfectly capable of handling monitoring duty and most things could be coordinated remotely if it was needed, and if it couldn’t it only took eight minutes for his elevator to take him back. He had no excuse.

“Oh, thank the gods, I’m so tired and my eyes hate me, my eyelids are broken” she groaned, making grabby hands in his general direction which he ignored to stare at Alan.

“Alan drunk coffee,” Scott told him. “Their super strong coffee.”

“What? Why? Who was stupid enough to give him that?”

“No one, he helped himself, thought her frappe was a milkshake,” I told him.

“John! You’re home! This is great! Watch what I can do!”

“No!” Scott, Witchy and I all yelled at once.

“Maybe you should stay where you are,” John suggested, obviously wishing he’d stayed in space even if that did mean he’d get yelled at later.

“I don’t want to sit anymore, I’m bored.”

We all looked at John imploringly, he was the one that Alan would always listen to.

“Hey, Alan, do you wanna watch a movie?” John offered.

"Is that a good idea," Scott started, his expression clearly saying that he thought John was insane to even be thinking of it. We wanted Alan to settle and calm down, not get extra hyped from watching one of his action movies.

Alan stopped bouncing for a second, looking suspicious but also interested. “What movie?”

“Your choice, what was that one you’ve been asking us to watch for months, I can’t remember?” John made his way over to the couch and Witchy shifted over to make room for him, draping her legs over his the moment he sat down.

“The new superhero one?” Alan asked hopefully.

“Sure, we can do that one,” John agreed, sending me a small smirk when Alan dropped back down on the couch, ready to watch. I gave it two minutes before he’d be leaping up again and running off to jump in the pool or something.

For once Scott didn’t dare tell Alan it was too late to start watching anything or that he should be in bed, he was just grateful that Alan had stopped rolling around the floor pretending to be a turtle stuck on its back.

“Oh, yay, I’ve been wanting to see this,” Witchy said, perking up, apparently forgetting all about her rebellious eyes and tiredness, getting what she called her second wind. We all knew that one, when you had been up so long and were so tired that you had actually gone past the point of tiredness, past the point of being able to sleep and were suddenly wide awake again.

John started the movie, lifting his arm to drape it across her shoulders when she snuggled against his side, her arm sliding around his waist. Alan shifted too, dragging his movie blanket over his legs, wedging a cushion against her side so he could lean against it, clearly getting comfortable. Scott and I exchanged a look, maybe there was hope for this plan of John’s after all.

Ten minutes into the movie Alan moved to curl up to her, both of them leaning against John, squashing him into the side of the couch, but at least they were settled.

Another five minutes and she was yawning, her head dropping to rest against John’s shoulder.

“Tired, love?” John asked innocently, smiling softly to himself when she shook her head firmly, but soon, despite her protests, her eyes started that slow blink of a very tired person who is trying desperately to stay awake.

Alan yawned, pulling his blanket up to cover his shoulders and Scott risked a small smile in hope that he would soon be able to get some sleep himself. I didn’t blame him. The ironic part of this day was the fact that we had finished off all the other coffees to ensure we stayed awake longer than Alan.

Her eyes drooped, slowly closing but she snapped awake a moment later.

“I thought you wanted to watch this?” Scott teased her, earning himself a glare.

“I do, I am watching, look, eyes, facing the screen, watching.”

She might have said the words but her actions said otherwise.

“Shall we turn this off and watch it another day?” I asked when Alan’s head dropped forward although he instantly snapped to attention again.

“No, I’m watching it,” he answered stubbornly.

I lifted my hands in surrender and followed John’s lead, staying quiet and watching the movie.

“Why don’t we go to bed?” John murmured to her a little while later when she’d jerked herself awake for the third time.

“No, I’m not tired, I told you, I want to watch this.”

"You just fell-" Scott started but John cut him off with a warning eyebrow raise.

"I did no such thing," she grumbled, sitting up a bit straighter to prove her point. "I was watching."

“Of course you were,” John agreed placidly, not bothering to argue with her but I did notice that his fingers snuck into her hair, playing with a few strands. She sighed softly, nuzzling her cheek against his shoulder as she watched the action on the screen, letting herself relax again.

She lasted another fifteen minutes before she stopped fighting her body's needs and closed her eyes, letting them stay closed.

A soft snore drew our attention and we turned from the projection to see Alan, mouth open, eyes closed, fast asleep. John shifted slightly, pulling witchy onto his lap, letting Alan's pillow slide down taking him with it. His hand snuck out, tugging at Alan’s blanket, pulling it up to cover his head.

We waited a few more minutes, sitting quietly, not wanting to risk breaking the fragile peace by waking them up, allowing them to settle deeper into sleep.

“OK, I think we’re good,” John whispered conspiritally.

“How did you know to do that?” Scott asked, shocked to the core that his standard approach of ordering followed by threats had failed on both his brother and his best friend, while John had sailed in and succeeded with minimal effort and without raising his voice once.

“They always do that,” John said, shrugging one shoulder so as not to disturb her. “She’s a woman, you can guarantee she’ll say she wants to watch a movie but she’ll fall asleep half way through, she always does. If she can’t sleep I'll just put an episode of something on and that usually does the trick.”

He pointed to Alan. “It’s the same with him. Who do you think he called in the middle of the night when he was thinking too much about homework or the million other things that teenagers seem to worry about? Tell him to pick a movie, cover him with a blanket and he’ll be out in minutes.”

“That’s…” Scott paused, unsure what to say. “Useful to know,” he finished.

"Arguing and pushing someone doesn't always work, you have to use your brain, assess the situation and pick your battles. Tired people are stubborn people."

"You can say that again," I muttered having dealt with my fair share of tired and stubborn family members, the two worst culprits being the ones currently talking.

“You take care of him, I’ve got her,” John nodded at Alan, smoothly changing the subject.

Scott helped me lift Alan who, although skinny, was growing lankier by the day, all long limbs and sharp elbows that you have to arrange carefully or risk dropping him. I took him to his room, putting him to bed then returned to fetch Scott.

“He still asleep”? Scott asked, still in his chair.

“Yep,” I answered. “He’ll be in for a surprise when he wakes up though, he hardly ever uses his bed. He'll think that he teleported again.”

"True enough," Scott chucked softly. "You need help with her?" He nodded at witchy, who hadn't moved.

"Nope, I got this, it's not my first time." With the ease of much practice he gathered her closer, sliding an arm under her legs, shuffled to the edge of the couch and got awkwardly to his feet. "You two should get some sleep too."

"We will," I assured him.

"Well, see you both in the morning," he said, heading to the door.

"Wait a second," I called and he paused. I grabbed the little notebook she'd left on the table, holding it up for him to see. "She hasn't filled this in today, you wanna take it?"

"She doesn't trust me," he shifted her slightly, rebalancing her in his arms, her face buried in his neck. "Not since last time, though I don't know what she expected when she told me to report what had happened, reports are for the facts, I did just that. If she'd wanted me to recall every single detail of the day she should have specified that. You write it."

"Sure, I can do that," I agreed, pocketing it.

"Night then."

"Night, John."

"Night, Scott."

"Goodnight."

Three down, one to go.

"Come on, bro, all your chicks are nested, now it's our turn," I said, patting his shoulder as I passed. "Even smother hens have to sleep some time."

"Yeah, yeah, I know, " he grumbled, yawning loudly, stretching as he got to his feet, too tired to even protest the hated nickname. "Bedtime."

#alantracy #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #John Tracy #Isolation Island #isolation #Thunderbirds in isolation #thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds 2015 #thunderbirds fanfiction

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darlinvandijk · 4 years ago

Text

Fantasy

Concept: Ever heard that bazzi song? Well that’s what this is about, literally all because of this song. It’s been stuck in my head, so I put it on repeat, and this came from it. WARNING: SEXUAL CONTENT (no smut, I don’t write smut. But this piece has sexual content and implied things) So this should be fun huh? Hope you enjoy ;)

I let out out a quiet gasp, my eyes trained on the tv in front of me, showing the places I could only dream of going to, the places where fantasies come true. My eyes stay trained on the screen, the various destinations floating across, my mind drifting to what the future could be like, not even noticing the beautiful boy take a seat next to me on the couch. I’m startled from my day dream as a hand lands on my thigh, my head turning to look at the green eyed boy, watching the thoughtful expression that crosses his face as he observes me.

“What’re you thinking about baby?” He questions, eyes flitting to the tv, watching as the man on screen talks about travel destinations and the experiences they offer. His eyes meet mine again, a small smirk tugging at his lips, his brain already forming a plan. “Wanna go to one of those places?” He chuckles out, his eyes taking in the glazed look in mine, watching the way my eyes trail over every inch of the screen, absolutely entranced.

“Of course I do, I mean who doesn’t want to go travel these places” I mumble, a frown taking over my lips. Ruel grabs on to my legs, pulling them up on to his lap, using one of his hands to start trailing his fingers up and down the inside of my thigh. I watch his hands in a daze, the feeling of his fingertips brushing against my legs instantly flustering me, my heart picking up in speed as he continues his movements. “Those are places I’ll only ever dream of going to though“ I barely choke out, trying to ignore the building tension between us, knowing Kate was just in the next room over from us. He lets out a laugh as I finish my sentence, giving me a boyish grin, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“You should know by now that you can go where you wanna go” he muses, hinting at the money he’s made with his career, watching the hesitant look that appears in my eyes at his insinuation. I open my mouth to protest his offer, not wanting him to spend that kind of money on me, only for my mouth to be shut as he leans forward and gives me a light kiss. “I can take you there.” He confidently states, leaving no room for argument, his plan already with a confirmed destination as my eyes snap and light up at the screen at the mention of Greece.

“Ruel no, don’t even think about it. I don’t want you spending your money on me like that” I groan out, watching as my words go in one ear, and completely out the other. He gives my thigh a small pat, already invested in whatever plan he’s making on his phone, before his eyes dart up to mine with excitement practically dripping out of them. “Baby what did you just do?” I mutter, dragging my hand across my face, knowing that look in his eyes can only mean one thing. The one thing I literally just told him not to do.

“Start packing gorgeous, flight takes off tomorrow night.” He smirks out, standing up to go to his room, ready to pull out his suitcase for the trip he just impulsively paid for. I throw my body back on to the couch, letting out a groan as I bury my face into a pillow, not believing how this boy ignores everything I say. Before I can move and get up to try and stop him, Kate walks into the living room, giving my sprawled out body a curious look, already knowing who made me react this way, before her eyes look at her phone screen that just lit up with a text.

“Considering the group text I just got, looks like we’re going on a trip” Kate laughs, also turning away from me to head to her room to start packing, giving me a small pat on the head before making her departure. I huff out a breath of air, standing up to make my way to Ruel, already knowing he’s got my suitcase pulled out, deciding that I have no choice in this matter.

I walk into the room, watching him sort through his clothes, before he glances at me with a smile, absolutely feeding off of my attitude towards him. Before I can start my rant on how he can use his money for better things, like himself, he pulls me into his arms. I look up at him through my eyelashes, a small frown on my face, watching his eyes run over my lips before meeting mine with a darker look. He leans down and presses his lips against mine, one hand going to the back of my neck, the other resting a little low on my back as he plays with the hem of my shirt. He licks a stripe across my bottom lip, causing me to press my lips together to stop him, only for him to smack my ass a second later. I let out a gasp at the unexpected move, his tongue instantly entering my mouth, both of his hands moving to the backs of my thighs, getting lifted up so that my legs wrap around his waist.

“What’re you doing?” I gasp out, eyes rolling back as his lips find my neck, my hands tangling in his hair at the feeling. I tug on a few strands, feeling his groan radiate across my chest, where his lips are now wandering, leaving light marks along the way. I feel my back get pressed against his wall, his lips detaching from my skin, his now dark eyes meeting mine with a devilish glint in them. I silently stare back at him, my shaky breathing still filling the air, both of us in a lust filled haze.

“Baby this is just the start.. wildest dreams are about to be a reality” he lowly mutters, his words lined with a second meaning, leaving me confused at what he could be hinting at. He leans forward and gives me one last kiss, before setting me down, heading back over to his clothes pile to get it situated, leaving me standing against the wall with shaky legs. I stumble into the closet, looking at all my clothes, before realizing I have no clue what to even pack for, since he never told me where we’re going. “Pack for warmer weather, leave out that pretty little white skirt of yours that you like, you can wear that on the way over” he hums out, not even turning to me as he answers my unasked question.

“Why would I wear a skirt on a plane? That’s like really unpractical” I question, my hands pulling clothes off of hangers, grabbing a few swimsuits along the way, and making my way next to him where my suitcase lays flat on his bed. He gives me a sideways glance, a smirk tugging at his lips when I toss my white skirt on the bed, before he grabs one of my floral wrap shirts and tossing it next to my skirt. “This seems like the literal worst outfit to wear on a plane bub” I mumble, eyeing my sweatpants and hoodie that I folded to bring along with me, knowing they’d be much more comfortable for the flight.

“Trust me. Just wear that and you’ll be fine” he mumbles, concentrating on the hoodie he couldn’t fold right. I roll my eyes and grab the hoodie from him, deciding I might as well just fold it for him since he’d be here all day trying to if I didn’t help him. I pass it back to him, watching as he checks over his suitcase one last time, before zipping it up and setting it against the wall. He walks back over to me and starts going through my clothes pile, looking to see what I’ve decided to bring for the trip, watching the boyish grin on his face as he finds my underwear pile. “Woah lace, who’re you trying to impress sweetheart?” He chuckles, eyes drifting over my body, before smiling at me when I glare at him and grab my underwear out of his hands.

“Foreign boys, definitely not you” I sass back, putting my now folded clothes into my suitcase, ignoring the way he throws himself on to the bed, whining about how I don’t love him. I look over my packed clothes, making sure I have everything I’ll need for the week long stay, before noticing that I completely forgot to pack socks with my undergarments. I walk back into the closet, grabbing a handful of socks before making my way back, only to notice my luggage looks different. “What did you do?” I mutter, trying to figure out what he took from neatly folded things, watching the way innocently looks at me, his hands folded on his lap. The position only someone that’s guilty would do.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about” he defends himself, giving me a shocked look that I’d even suggest he did anything. I notice that my outfit for the flight tomorrow has something layed out under it, only to lift it up and find exactly what I should have expected. “Before you say anything, can you blame me?” He rushes out, watching as my eyes widen at the white lace set he had folded under my clothes, giving me a sheepish smile as a blush coats his face.

I roll my eyes and give him a small push, leaving the clothes there, and zipping up my suitcase to place it near his. I mean, it’s just a cute outfit, there couldn’t be more to it than that. Right?

———

Our flight leaves in a few hours, so we clean up the house and anything we had laying out, and Sylvie goes to drop Wilbur off at their friends house for the next week. I’m sweeping the kitchen floor when I hear soft footsteps make their way behind me, before arms wrap around my waist. Ruel rests his head on my shoulder, pressing a light kiss to my neck, swaying us side to side before finally speaking up.

“I can finish this up for you sweetheart, go get dressed since we leave in a few” he tells me, lightly pushing me out of the room, laughing when I skip out of the room more than happy to not sweep anymore. I get into our room, grabbing my outfit off the bed and walking into the bathroom, jittery for the surprise destination we’d be going to soon.

I slip off my clothes, before grabbing the white undergarments he chose, slipping them on before pulling my skirt on, and tying my shirt into place. I give myself a once over, before deciding to tie my hair up into a simple messy bun, knowing that majority of this flight was going to be spent sleeping or passenger watching with Ruel. I look at my makeup bag before settling with a layer of lip gloss and some light blush, just in case I do sleep on the flight and don’t want my makeup getting all over the place.

I walk out of the bathroom and to my suitcase, putting my makeup bag in there, and double checking to make sure I have everything I need for the flight. I go over to Ruels, checking since he always forgets things, before grabbing both and dragging them out to the front door where he’s waiting with both of our carry on bags next to him. He checks his phone, before passing me my backpack, and grabbing both suitcases to take out to the car.

“I put your passport with mine, they’re in the front pocket of my backpack, and your wallet with your ID is in the front of your bag” he tells me, both of us pilling the bags into the back of the car, having almost no room with the other bags stuffed back there. We climb into the back, Ralph and Kate in the front, and Sylvie and Coco in the middle seats. Ruel passes me one of his AirPods as we start the drive to the airport, pulling me to rest against him as the music plays, his fingers aimlessly playing with the hem of my skirt.

I stare out the window as the music plays, my mind wandering to the thoughts of where he could possibly be taking us, and what it will have in store for us, not noticing the way he shifts so that he’s resting against the window, pulling me to rest my back against his chest. His hand is spread out across my thigh, his fingers and palm so big they almost cover the whole top portion of my leg, my mind drifting to the thought of how well he can use them, before I stiffen and blush that I was even thinking of those things while his family is around. He leans down and puts his lips near my ear as he feels my mood change, letting his breath fam over the side of my face before pressing a kiss behind my ear, feeling the smile on his lips against my skin.

“What’s wrong sweetheart? Seems like you’re dripping.. with anxiety, nervous?” He questions, his voice lowering as if he can almost read my mind, knowing whatever I was thinking of had me completely dazed for a second. I let out an annoyed huff and grab his hands, holding them in mine as I rest against him, staring out the window again as I try to ignore the feeling of him pressed against me. I mean this is a family trip, nothing like that should even be on my mind, because this is just a wholesome time away from home to bond and spend time together. He wouldn’t try to do something with his family next to us, he’s smarter than that.

———

We get through security after ages of waiting, then start to make our way to the terminal, my hand gripping Ruels with excitement about what destination he chose. We make it and he sits down on one of the chairs, dropping both of our carryons in the seat next to him, pulling me on to him so that my back was against his chest. As I rest against him, I stare at the terminal sign, waiting for it to switch to the next flights destination, since Ruel still won’t tell me where it is. As I wait for the destination to pop up, I hear Sylvie let out a yawn, already waiting to just go back to sleep since the flight is a late night one, even Coco is dressed in a soft dress, claiming it’s fashionable and sleep worthy. I can tell they all know where we’re going, since none of them are waiting to see, and all of them keep glancing at me with smiles while they wait for my reaction.

“Ruel you didn’t!” I almost screech out, standing up to turn around and face him, my hands covering my mouth in shock. Kate laughs as Ruel stands up and I instantly pull him into a hug, my eyes watering at the fact that he loves me so much to do this for me, having never had someone care about me this much before. “I love you, thank you. I can’t believe you’re taking me to Greece” I mumble out, looking up at him with teary eyes, watching him laugh before he reaches up and wipes my eyes, leaning down to give me a small kiss.

“You’re a star baby, I know what you’re worth, don’t forget that” he whispers in my ear, holding me against him with a smile, relieved that he chose the right place based off my interest in the show yesterday. “You can pay me back later” he lowly mutters, smirking as I pull away with a confused look, since there was no way I could afford to pay back everything this vacation was going to cost.

“Ruel I can’t afford that, otherwise I would have just taken us here in the first place” I tell him, growing more confused as he laughs at me, his hand reaching up to cup my face, the feeling of the two rings he’s wearing against my face causing me to shiver. He ignores me and grabs our bags, hearing our flight get called to board, my eyes widening in complete disbelief as he drags us in line for first class, having never experienced it on an overnight international flight like this. We make it on to the plane, my eyes taking in the first class pods, widening at the bed like seats. Ruel puts our two bags away, gesturing for me to get in the seat and sit down, Kate and Ralph behind us, while Coco and Sylvie are across the aisle from them.

“Put you on to things you thought were impossible huh” Ruel laughs out, watching as I run my hands over the soft chair, amazed with the luxurious treatment he was giving me. I wrap my arms around his neck, squeezing him as tight as I can, hoping he can understand how grateful I am for him and everything he does for me. He holds me against him, running his hand along my back, completely infatuated with me and the hold I have over him without even knowing it. “Feeling tired yet?” He questions, pulling away to look at me, pushing a few strands of hair that fell out of my bun behind my ear. I shake my head no, before my attention gets pulled to the flight attendant, who goes through the typical airplane safety rules.

The plane finally takes off, the flight attendant letting us know that we’ve reached 10,000 ft, so we’re able to recline our seats and take our phones out again. I pull out my phone, taking a quick selfie of Ruel and I, before doing a cute video of him laying back in his seat, giving me his smile that makes my heart stop for a second. I save the video, before putting my phone away, wanting to spend every second of this travel journey with him, and not online. He reaches over and reclines my seat, leaving the both of us laying down next to each other, giving me a mischievous look as the lights go down to a dark blue. He reaches under the seats, grabbing the one of the new blankets they have there for us, passing it to me so that I can get it situated.

I drag the blanket over his body, moving over so that I’m laying next to him, my body completely and utterly relaxed in the silence that’s surrounding us. I feel him adjust his arm next to me, his hand resting on my lower thigh, something he usually does when we’re just hanging out, so it raises no suspicions to me. I let out a gasp, my eyes widening as his hand starts to slip up the front of my skirt, watching him with wide eyes as he fully closes the divider to our airplane pod on the side. “Ruel stop, you can’t do this here” I whisper shout at him, watching the smirk rise on his face through the dark lighting of the plane, most of the other passengers already long asleep by now, the flight attendants situated for the easy night ahead of them.

He ignores my worried state, nudging the hand I used to try and push his away, to continue its way up my leg, finally reaching the waistband of my underwear, smirking at the way my body reacts when he slightly dips his finger under it and drags it across my hip. He leans over me and gives me a light kiss, before trailing kisses along my cheek, down to my jawline. I reach up and grip his shirt, trying to not make any noise as he goes down to my neck, lightly sucking and biting on my sweet spot, before he pulls away with swollen lips. I reach one of my hands up, lightly tracing his bottom lip with my thumb, eyes rolling back as he brings it into his mouth with a smirk, pulling away with a light popping noise.

“Put some faith in me” he mutters, lips attaching to mine in seconds, the worry of being caught disregarded almost instantly. He shifts his body so he’s fully laying back, pulling me on to his lap so I’m flush against him, but still completely out of view for any of the other passengers that might not be asleep yet. “Your fantasy” he quietly groans against my mouth, hinting at the naughty secret I had told him one night, a little more than buzzed that day when I spilled one of my most honest desires and secrets. He looks up at me through hooded eyes, a lazy smirk spread across his lips as he pulls away, nothing but pure desire filling his eyes.

I’m resting above him, forearms flat against his chest to hold me up enough to make eye contact, watching as his eyes start drinking in every part of my body visible. He eyes wander over my bun that’s now falling apart, my glazed over eyes, my shirt thats seconds away from being opened by him, and my barely covered legs that rest on either side of his waist. He runs his hands over my thighs, feeling the way the skirt barely covers me in this postion, knowing this was his plan all along for making me wear this outfit. He wraps his hand around the side of my throat, the cool metal of his rings causing my breath to hitch, before he pulls my face back to his, letting our lips barely brush against each other’s.

He shifts me against his lap, situating me on to one of his legs, causing his thigh to be fully pressed against me. He leans back completely against the lowered seat, resting both hands on my lower hips, and jolting his thigh up to encourage me to move. “Use me baby” he lowly mutters, his voice so deep it sends a shock to the deepest parts of me, my hips stuttering against his leg at the sound of it. He palms the sides of my hips before firmly grasping them, slowly but roughly dragging them down and back up along his leg, completely in a trance as he watches my eyes roll back in pleasure. I slide my hands up his chest and grip his shoulders, using the leverage to grind myself against him, my body jerking whenever the seam of his pants rubs against me. I bite down on his shoulder when he slips one of his hands down between us, my back arching towards him, and my hips slamming down against him. “Does that feel good baby?” He taunts me, grinning as I’m rendered speechless, my breathy gasps against his neck my only reply, unable to form words as I claw at his shoulders.

“Ruel your family is literally right behind us, we need to stop before you get us in trouble” I finally moan out and warn him, my mouth saying one thing, but my body telling me something different as he rolls his hips against mine in a swift motion, his thigh causing another jolt of blissful pleasure. He presses his lips against mine, muffling the sound of my choked groan, feeling his own rise up as I grind back down against him. “This is a bad idea, we’re going to get caught” I whisper against his mouth, moving back to press my face against his neck, feeling him ignore my warning as he grabs my hips and pulls me against him even harder.

“Don’t you think the thrill of getting caught is kinda hot? I know you do.. I can feel it” he grins, lifting my face from against him, watching the way my face instantly heats up at his insinuation. I push myself against him, craving any sort of friction that I can get, grinning as he throws his head back, mouth open in a silent moan. I slowly start to shuffle myself backwards, my hands instantly latching on to his waistband ready to unbutton and unzip them, only for him to grab my wrists and pin them against his lower abdomen. “What’re you doing?” He softly questions, pulling my back up to be level with his face, brushing the fallen strands back.

“I want to make you feel good, you’re doing so much for me, so I want to do something for you” I whine out into his ear, causing him to shake his head and let out a quiet hum of disagreement. He softly pushes me off of him, leaving me spread out on my back, chest heaving with anticipation at his next move. He moves on top of me, one of his hands moving from next to my head, down to the tie of my shirt. I watch him with wide eyes, his fingers slowly teasing me as he tugs at the bow, before pulling it and letting it come undone. He tugs the shirt apart, leaving my chest completely in view, my lace bra being the only thing covering me.

“Baby you could be out a magazine” he practically groans out, lips pressing along my collarbones, before he makes his way down to the top of my chest. I tangle my hands in his hair, feeling him suck at bite at my skin, not caring about the marks that will be visible after this flight. I whimper as his hand comes up, cupping my chest over my bra, lightly squeezing before trailing his hand down my stomach, tugging at the waistband of my skirt before letting it snap back against my skin. “This is about you and only you. Making you feel good, makes me feel good” he mumbles against my chest, pulling one of my legs to wrap around his waist, my skirt completely bunching up around my hips, the only thing keeping me covered being his body resting between my legs.

“Ruel please” I whine out, my voice so quiet only he can hear me, his hips expertly rolling against mine to the point where I’m not sure how much more I can take. My heart races when he slides a hand up to my neck, wrapping his fingers around my throat as he squeezes down, just enough to leave me light headed and absolutely craving more from him. He keeps his grip as he connects our lips, pressing into me as he keeps up his steady pace rolling against me, his tongue sliding against mine as I open my mouth for him. He pulls away, his lips swollen and shiny, and a blush covering his face from the heat surrounding us, his body absolutely warm to the touch as he lays his hand against my leg.

He drags a finger from my inner knee, to my inner thigh, lightly swirling it around as I buck my hips up at the sensitive feeling, a small laugh coming out of him at my eagerness. He moves his hands to the front of my underwear, tracing the pattern of the lace, but making sure to not touch me where I needed him most. My mouth falls open in a silent moan as he slowly grinds himself forward, tilting his hips at an angle where I feel all of him, both of us grasping each other at the feeling being heightened from the high risk situation we’re in. He uses two fingers to wrap around my waistband, lightly tugging on them, until they slowly start to make their way down my thighs, his eyes trained on mine, the intimacy of his touch making me unable to look away. He gets them off of me, settling back between my legs, giving me a teasing grin as he shoves them into his back pocket, my heart racing as I realize I’m exposed in ways I’ve never been in public before.

“Please. I need you.” I gasp out, eyes rolling at the feeling of his pants against me, the rough texture causing my back to arch against him in a desperate plea for more. His eyes light up, finally hearing the words he’s desperately been waiting for, the encouragement to take it to the next level. He softly shuffles me up the seat, before fully settling between my legs, watching as my eyes widen at the position, my legs closing at the proximity of his face to my most intimate region.

He slips his hands between them and spreads them apart, his face now hovering over my lower abdomen, his eyes drifting down and gazing over my exposed body. He lowers his face and I can feel his deep breathing hit my exposed skin, his hands pressing down as he feels me jerk my hips up, unable to hide my lust and need for him. “Only you can make me feel good, please” I whimper out, my flushed face looking down at him, feeling a rush of adrenaline flow through me as he smirks and lowers his face. He reaches up and intertwines one my hand with his, his other hand gripping my leg open so hard, I’m sure a hand print will be visible by the time we’re off of this flight.

He gives me a grin, so sinful that even the devil would blush, before letting go of my leg and raising his hand towards my face. My eyes droop closed as I wrap my lips around his two fingers, swirling my tongue around the digits and lightly sucking, letting him pull them away as a trail of saliva is still connecting them to my lips. He moves his now wet fingers down to where I so desperately need and crave them, before giving me one last look, and uttering words that are followed by a state of nothing but pure and unfiltered bliss.

“Take my hand, to your fantasy” is all I hear before my eyes roll back and his mouth finally connects.

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