#and Five is spamming the “look over here” button while he runs back to help them finish the puzzle

[stellar-collective]

do you have any adorable 5am doodles? <3

i dedicate this sketch page to u

[1kook]

attachment: 1 image

— jjk x (f) reader

summary; But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere. warnings; sexting, dick pics, dirty talk?, phone sex, vivid depictions of jungkook being just so sexy bc its true, rating; mature (18+) misc; mentions of youtuber kook 🥰, he’s just horny, stupid selfie trends (see here), he’s a little whiny but so hot v.v  wc; 4.6k 

notes; I've had this in my drafts since april 😐 n then i was like maybe we should actually finish this so i started n then last night i hit another follower milestone!!! so then i rlly forced myself to finish this bc i was so 🥺🖤👩‍❤️‍💋‍👩 anyway enjoy lmk what u think its not proofread bc uhhhhh yeah 🤩

You’re at work when it happens.

It’s sometime between your usual listless thoughts of what to write for your weekly reflection papers for some course, and your trip to your store’s pharmacy to bother a coworker. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of your work apron. You’re normally pretty good at ignoring the sound, most of the times it’s just a classmate asking for help on homework or Jimin lamenting his love life, so you’ve grown used to ignoring the tiny vibrations, stocking a quarter shelf of different cooking oils before something in your brain tells you to check your phone.

You already know it’s not something grave, but that thought alone means nothing at the sight of the tiny jungkook♡ that appears at the very top of the list of notifications. Your boyfriend’s texts tended to be wildcards, never following a certain routine or alluding to any specifics. He could send you a long paragraph on how much he misses the scent of that one shampoo, the one you’d briefly run through last year because your usual brand was out of stock, with a ten point explanation on why you should switch back to it. Or two word, caveman sentences that drove you crazy because you never understood what exactly he wanted when he’d send those nondescript “munchies dip” texts.

You unlock your phone, clicking to the messenger app instead of directly on the notification. Hopefully the preview will give some warning on whether you should invest in this conversation or not. You hated the read receipts on messages, choosing to ghost conversations as you pleased, but Jungkook had wiggled his way into your phone one afternoon and specifically turned them on for his chat with you, and you’d never turned them off since. So he knows if you choose to ignore Attachment: 1 Image at 1:43pm exactly, and he'll pester you about it until you respond.

You contemplate it all for twenty seconds. It could be a variety of things, you guess, but the only way to find out is to actually see with your own eyes what he’s up to this time. He knows better than to distract you at work, is usually really good at waiting until your shift is over to spam you with messages. For him to send you something now, only a few hours into your shift, is uncharacteristic of him.

But you glance down the aisle anyway, taking note of some elderly woman you’d helped a few minutes prior and another teenager aimlessly walking around, probably looking for the snack aisle. You inhale and press down on your chat with Jungkook.

It takes you a moment to make out exactly what the image is, twisting and turning your phone around as you fight to see it without raising the brightness. It’s only when your eyes finally adjust to the dark screen, the faint beeping of the check-out registers fading into the distance, that you realize it’s a shot of the front of his sweatpants.

“Hm?” you murmur, getting brave enough to pinch the image between two fingers, zooming in until you’re able to decipher a multitude of details. For one, there’s a Flaming Hot Cheeto stain on the hem of his sweatpants, the same one you’d accidentally put on there a few weeks back and haven’t been able to wash out since. Then there’s that huge palm of his, tattoos and all, rested carefully against his thigh. It’s veiny and thick in all the right places, bringing all the attention to his knuckles, which you guess is what he was going for when you consider the centerpiece of the image—his hardened dick straining against the grey material.

There’s no text attached to the message, no snapchat font slapped over the image, so you wonder what exactly he wanted you to do with this information mid-shift. Well, realistically, you know exactly what he wants, but that doesn’t mean you won’t clown him before getting there. After all, Jungkook was seldom the naughty texter; sexting annoyed him, he would whine, because he would do all that and not even get to feel the true pleasure of sex, of being inside you. You’ve dabbled in it here and there, but it never went as perfectly as it did in pornos. He’d drop his phone and forget it, or you would straight up ignore the damn device as you went all in on yourself.

But for Jungkook to initiate some sexting, nevertheless sexting at 1pm on a Saturday, when you were at work and you were almost positive he was supposed to be on stream right now? Unheard of, you had to mark this down somewhere.

you what’s this about?

You decide to play it safe, because as exciting as the image of Jungkook at his computer chair, cock hard and angry at the thought of you, fluffy hair ruffled in that way you adored, jaw twitching and tightening as he touched himself, moaned deep and rough and just how you liked and—

As nice as that image was, for all you knew this vague message was Jungkook sending you a picture from a week ago to purposefully fuck with you at work.

jungkook♡ what time u get off? jungkook♡ miss you bad baby

Your stomach flips, and it takes everything in you to not squeal and bounce between the shelves like a toddler on a sugar rush. Here was your boyfriend, the cutest, sweetest boy, sending you dirty pictures of himself and telling you how much he needed you. Yes, YOU, not some random on the street, or someone else in a club, Jungkook needed pleasure and that pleasure could only come from you.

You glance back down the aisle again, checking your surroundings for the second time that day. You’ve been standing here, stock cart empty for a little over five minutes now, so it’s probably best to change location lest your manager come barking down your neck. You send one quick text before heading off for stock again.

you 4pm :(

Your phone dings again just as you’re leaving the stockroom, but you decide to check it once you get to the hygiene aisle you need to work on next. Still, the prospect of Jungkook having texted you has you walking with a skip in your step, one your coworker teases you about when you pass by her.

jungkook♡ fuck jungkook♡ tell me what panties youre wearing jungkook♡ please ?

You bite your lip, stopping yourself from smiling at the tone you’d picked up from his message. There was no doubt he’d been riled up for a while now, and you wonder if he sat through his usual Saturday morning streams with his cock hard, pushed against the edge of his desk like you knew he did when such things happened. The thought has you nearly fumbling with a bottle of aloe vera.

you seamless black thong you the one you bought me at the last vs sale

Briefly, you wonder if you should have lied and told him you were wearing that red lace set he’d given you last Valentine’s Day, the one he’d bought with his first big YouTube check. But the beauty of being in a relationship with someone like Jungkook is that you could have told him you were wearing grandma undies and he’d still think you were the most beautiful person to grace the planet.

jungkook♡ mm jungkook♡ tiny ones u ruined last time?

You set your phone down, speed stock a row of sunscreen like you’re on some shelf stocking national competition, before daring to text Jungkook again. Your cheeks are still warm, and your hand tightens dangerously around a bottle of shaving cream.

Before you can formulate some response, he’s sending another one in.

jungkook♡ u soaked those jungkook♡ came fast that day jungkook♡ want u so bad

Your cheeks burn, a little embarrassed that he remembers such details. As with all Victoria’s Secret panties, they were, like Jungkook said, extremely thin. You pause, shift your stance just barely, but you’re definitely wet. Not terribly so, but with this fabric, you’d start to notice it sooner than with others.

you mm you makin me wet bunny

It’s not a complete lie, but knowing Jungkook this is exactly what he needs to hear to get that competitive streak going. You shake your head to clear your thoughts, stocking another section of men’s shaving cream. It takes longer for him to message you back, and you wonder if he got off fine on his own. If it’s over now, at least he provided you with some distraction midway into your shift.

When he texts you again, you’ve almost completely convinced yourself he’s finished, so the Attachment: 1 Video that appears on your lock screen throws you for a loop.

It’s a short clip, no longer than ten seconds, but it has you scrambling to lower the volume on your device as some unsuspecting mother of two wanders past. You flash her your practiced smile, the same one you give all the store’s customers. Not like your boyfriend is jacking it off on your phone, shallow pants filtering out from the speakers.

You turn your phone over carefully after she leaves, try to at least pretend you’re still doing your job as you play the video again.

Sweats are gone, but boxers remain. Legs deliciously exposed, thick thighs with muscles that ripple when he moves. Shirt pulled up just slightly to showcase that broad expanse of tummy, cute belly button and defined abs that tighten with each glide of his palm over the outline of his cock. Your mouth fills with drool at the sight. He was so hot.

Your brain hasn’t even processed it yet, all your energy directed towards your clenched pussy, when he shoots another text.

jungkook♡ im so fckin hard jungkook♡ wanna kiss yuo every where baby jungkook♡ come ove r soon ??

Shutting your eyes and counting to ten doesn’t help ward off the sudden wave of horniness that consumes you, but it does remind you of the job you’re supposed to be doing now. You shake your head, as if the image of Jungkook’s dick throbbing beneath his boxers, low voice in your ear, will magically disappear. It doesn’t, and it plagues you even more when you begin stocking a section of sunscreen, numbly instructing yourself on what to do next. Shaving cream, sunscreen, lotion next, you repeat.

It doesn’t help.

Two minutes later and you’re scrambling for the phone you’d hastily tucked into your apron pocket, tapping your passcode in until your messages with Jungkook are pulled up again.

you after work you promise

Your head is absolutely spinning, the coil in your stomach too tight for you to try and be a functioning member of society. Something in you says to sneak off to the bathroom and call him, but your boss is a little bit of a prick when he wants to be, thinks you take too many bathroom breaks as is.

Speak of the devil and he shall appear. A curt call of your name has you whirling to face your shelves again, phone tightly pressed against your ribs like maybe it’ll melt into your skin and he won’t see it. At the same time, your sudden fright has you scrambling to turn it off, fingers sloppily pressing against the buttons, hitting the volume like seven times before you eventually feel the familiar click that signals it’s off.

Your boss disappears shortly after, and with his sudden appearance having made every hair on your body stand, you find yourself now slumping against your stock cart. Jesus, that man was a handful to deal with.

The paranoia sticks for a little bit, has you stocking shelf after shelf like a robot until you finish the entire row of hygiene products, back stiff from bending over so much. It’s only when you return to the stockroom ten minutes later that you dare take your phone out again.

A pleasant surprise awaits.

It would appear that during your haste to hide your phone from your boss— Jungkook’s scandalous messages and all —your frantic hands had done something else. A fuzzy picture on your end, a blurry display of lotion bottles you had stacked just before your boss’s impromptu appearance, with no words to accompany them. Normally Jungkook would have ignored that; you frequently sent accidental messages like this, butt texted him, he says.

But there’s something about Jungkook’s horny brain that makes him do stupid things, makes him blow up your phone with a series of question marks, call you four times, whine and fuss in your message thread, and eventually, send you probably the oddest image to date.

jungkook♡ ??? jungkook♡ ????what is that jungkook♡ baby please jungkook♡ I don’t get it ??

jungkook♡ Missed Call (4)

jungkook♡ baby jungkook♡ what does it mean jungkook♡ please ur drivign me insane jungkook♡ jsut wanna hear yuor voice jungkook♡ fuck please just

And then, there’s another one of those cursed Attachment: 1 Image messages.

You shouldn’t be as surprised as you are. You’ve been dating Jungkook for a few months now, know he had that sort of unique personality most college dropouts turned YouTubers do. But every now and then the absurdity of his actions makes you question him still, makes you wonder what exactly goes on in that pretty head of his to warrant such ideas, makes him balance a bottle of body lotion on the thick outline of his cock like this.

Unlike the first few images, this one was taken in front of a mirror. The blinding fluorescent light in his bathroom paints him in a stark color, has every inch of his pretty face on display for you. Rosy cheeks, dewy skin. Perfectly swollen cock straining beneath his grey boxers, curved up against his hip. Shirt pulled up, finally freeing that expanse of muscles on his abdomen, cute little belly button on display once again. The red material is pulled up to his mouth, pearly white teeth biting down on the fabric, and he’s got this flushed expression on his face.

But the real star of the show isn’t his chiseled abdomen or sexy expression, but the sheer hardness of his dick that lets him balance a bottle of body lotion over it, like a fuckin’ shelf or something. He’s so hard, dick so full beneath his boxers. So big too, the little boxers pulled taught around said engorged cock and thick thighs.

Your brain says to laugh, to tease him for being such a clown even when he’s horny as hell. He won’t take it to heart, will probably laugh along with you and you’ll add it to your still growing list of funny memories.

But your caveman libido says call him, so that’s what you do, ducking down behind a new shipment pallet with a squeak as the phone rings. It only lasts four seconds before he picks up, voice breathy and low, but it sounds so loud in the silence of the stockroom.

He doesn’t even let you get a greeting in. “You like my picture, baby?” he husks. It sounds like he’s right there, right beside you, speaking into your ear. Your pussy throbs at the way he sounds. Paired with the picture from before, it has your body tingling all over.

“What the fuck is that?” you hiss, trying to not let the sudden overflow of arousal leak into your words. Jungkook chuckles.

“What?” he huffs. There’s the brief sound of shuffling, the scratchy noise of his phone presumably being pressed against his shoulder. “I’m so hard, baby,” he sighs before you can pretend to reprimand him any further. “Fuck— you, can you just talk to me?” he groans, and the disgusting sound of him spitting into his palm fills your ear.

Your face feels warm, eyes nervously peering across the stockroom like your boss will suddenly appear now of all times to rip you from this important phone call. The anxiety and arousal mix weirdly, have your leg bouncing but every new movement sends a shock up your aching cunt to your chest, and then out to the tips of your fingers.

“You shouldn’t be doing that when I’m at work,” you murmur hurriedly, moving to nervously bite at your finger. Jungkook moans softly.

“Uh huh,” he says.

The air conditioning turns on and you nearly jump out of your own skin. “Kook,” you stress, frazzled by your own burning arousal and the fear of being caught. Like you said. Weird mix. “I— not when I can’t respond.”

He shudders on the line. “You’re responding now,” he points out. You hate when he’s right. Before you can defend yourself, define what a proper response is in this scenario, he’s beating you to the punch. “Baby,” he whimpers, voice so airy yet low, makes your eyes roll into the back of your head, back unconsciously arching. “Couldn’t stop— fuck.”

Your mouth feels dry, all and any form of lecturing fading from your thoughts as you become consumed in Jungkook’s little whines and whimpers. He talks smoothly, a modern day Casanova, and it’s certainly because of that cult-like harem he’s gathered on YouTube. Teenage girls who kiss his ass, tell him he’s cute and dreamy. Make his ego so big.

But then he gets horny and can barely contain that lisp you tease him about, shivers and melts when you put his cock in your mouth. “Couldn't what, bunny?” you mumble, voice drawn tight because now you were really horny, and it was all his fault.

The nickname makes him mewl prettily, your speaker suddenly going scratchy as he fumbles with his phone. “C- Couldn't stop thinking about you— your mouth,” he admits, and now you’re certain he’d sat through that Saturday morning stream like this. “T- Tits,” he adds, lisp slipping through. “Fuck.”

You bite your lip, eyes fluttering shut as you remind yourself now was not the time or place to get yourself off. But, well. That didn’t mean you couldn’t get him off. “Sat through your stream like this?” you murmur, circling your kneecap with a trembling finger as if it’ll ward away the raging lust in your abdomen. Jungkook confirms with a breathy moan. “Had all your little fans wondering why you ended so early.”

He groans. “No,” he chokes, voice hot from how much it wavers. “They— I lied,” he confesses out of nowhere, “s- said I had a doctor’s appointment.”

You muffle a giggle into your palm. “Naughty,” you tease. “Too hard to do your job.”

“Just,” he cuts off, voice feathery. He sounds so close and you haven’t even said anything of substantial value yet. “Tell me,” he says quietly, “what to— mmh, what to do.”

A smirk consumes your features. You try to hide it, but there’s no one here anyway so you’re left grinning at an unpacked box of dental floss like a madwoman. “Why?” you inquire playfully, bask in the sad little whimper he responds with. “Shouldn’t you know how to make yourself cum?”

Another groan of frustration, desperation seeping into his tone when he speaks again. “Baby, please,” he begs, and it feels good. Feels nice to have this big YouTuber begging for you like this, whimpering your name like his doesn’t appear on the top 25 most viewed. “Like when you— ah — when you tell me… what to do.”

Your body feels hot, thighs pressing together with each whimper that falls from his lips. “Okay,” you concede, and he audibly moans in relief. “Tip first,” you instruct softly, eyes defocusing as your brain slowly starts to manifest the image of Jungkook spread out on his bed. Thick thighs, grey boxers pulled taught around them, fat cock between his pretty hands, inked knuckles squeezing around his member. You swallow. You can tell exactly when Jungkook does as you say because another muffled moan fills the speaker. “One finger,” you remind him quickly, head spinning from the mere memory of his dick. “Run it… run it over the slit, bunny.”

“Nngh—“ Jungkook sputters. You can only imagine the face he’s making now, the bottom lip he’s bitten raw by now. He does it a lot; it’s a nervous habit. But as sexy as it looks when you’re in bed, you know he has sensitive lips because of it, bleeds easily if he’s too harsh. You have half the mind to remind him about it now, but then he’s hurriedly gasping out for more. “And, and then? Wha— what then, baby?”

He sounds so sweet, melodic voice dripping with honey. “Touch your balls,” you say a little breathlessly. “Don’t squeeze,” you add, “just roll your palm over them.” Your palm squeezes against your thigh, as if it’s remembering the feel of his body, the soft skin between his thighs when you’re down there. He gets so jittery, thick thighs nearly crushing you if you drag him along too much. “O- Other hand on your cock,” you stumble, thighs squeezed together. “Stroke yourself just like I do, bunny.”

Jungkook complies. “Just like you?” he mumbles, suddenly sounds farther away. As if he’s dropped his phone off to the side. “Fffuck,” he grunts, “m- mouth is so pretty.”

“Hm?” you inquire, so consumed with tampering down your growing arousal for a second that you miss his sentence.

Jungkook’s breath stutters, and for a moment you’re met with the wet squelch of his cock in his hand. And then, “pretty mouth… make me— make me wanna see you cry.”

You bite your lip. “Why,” you say tentatively, finally caving in with a hand fluttering over the front seam of your jeans. Not a question, more of a gentle nudge for him to spill his thoughts.

“Be- Because,” he cries, fucking into his hand. He sounds closer and closer. You have to wonder just how long he had been riled up. It’s been a while since his first message, he was probably desperate by now. “Y- You’re so nice,” he cries, and the sentiment, though oddly out of place, makes your heart squeeze with adoration for the boy on the line. “Wanna be,” he groans, “wanna be so fucking mean to you, baby.”

The sudden change of tone makes you choke on a moan, hand pressing against your mound like it’ll somehow penetrate the thick material of your jeans and give you the sensations you crave. As it stands, it’s a muted feeling you get instead. When your hands fail, his voice compensates. “Fffuck, don’t you— don’t you think about it too?”

Admittedly, no.

Jungkook had always been a gentleman in bed. Always cared for your needs before his own, went out of his way to make you feel pampered and adored during your most vulnerable moments. Contrary to what his online persona might say, he was a good boy. Sweetest boy you knew, touched you like you were made of glass.

So to suddenly learn of this dream— fantasy? kink? —of his that you would certainly enjoy equally as much, well. It made you whimper into your palm, eyes worriedly flickering toward the stockroom’s entrance.

“Why?” you whisper, feeling like a broken doll repeating the same phrase over and over again. You’re suddenly aware of how hot everything was. Your polo felt sticky against your spine, apron too tight, jeans too stuffy. How long had you been hiding in here for? You don’t even know. Hopefully your absence on the floor had gone unnoticed.

Jungkook pants into the line; everything sounds so sticky and wet on his end, hand undoubtedly working away at his cock. “Shit,” he curses, doesn’t really answer your question until you prod a second time. “I- I like it,” he stammers. “When you… fuck, when you look small.” He elaborates before you can even ask, breath heavy and drawn out. He was so close. “When your mouth… when it hurts,” he says, thoughts a scrambled mess. “Like when you— when you cry because my cock is— it’s too big for you.”

A blatant ego boost you’ll ignore for now. Not like you can focus on too many things right now anyway. “Your cock is big, bunny,” you agree softly instead. Your legs feel cramped from crouching so long, so you push yourself to your feet. Except then you’re made aware of how fucking wet you are, panties soaked from the phone call with your boyfriend. You shift and they stick to your folds, make you release a shaky exhale that Jungkook doesn’t miss.

“I— you’re wet,” he says boldly, and this time your meek confirmation isn’t a lie. Jungkook grunts. “Fuck, baby, I—“ cut off by his own whiny cry, probably bucking into his hand like a madman by now. “Wanna, wanna kiss you everywhere,” he says, a call back to his earlier message. Your legs feel like jello. You want him to kiss you everywhere too— lips, tits, cunt that is dripping for him now.

“I- I’ll be over soon,” you stammer, feeling like you’ll pass out if he carries on any further. He sounds so good on the line, soft pants, rough growls. You can’t possibly listen anymore, not when you’re so wet and horny in the middle of your shift. “Just,” you pause, can’t get the image of his pretty cock out of your mind. Every blink makes it more vivid, reminds you of the vein on the underside, the exact shade of the tip.

“What?” Jungkook hisses, voice higher than usual, parts of it lost under the rapid movements of his hand. “Tell me, baby, tell me what to do,” he begs hoarsely, “I’ll do it.” Sounds so desperate and needy, two seconds away from busting all over his hand.

You have to lean against the wall of the stockroom to ground yourself, remind yourself you’re not in the same situation as Jungkook and can’t cum in your pants like a teenager. “J- Just cum,” you choke, eyes fluttering shut.

He must’ve been waiting for that command, because the second the words leave your throat he’s filling the line with breathy groans and cries as he comes all over himself, probably ruins his t-shirt. The sounds have your hips unconsciously bucking forward into nothingness, the frustration of not being able to cum with him manifesting in the form of a tiny little sob. Luckily, he doesn’t catch it.

When it’s all said and done, he’s left panting into the receiver, flooding your speaker with breathy sighs that only make you more and more aroused.

“You’re terrible,” you frown, cheeks flushed, body tingling. You flip your wrist over and check the time; it’s been about sixteen minutes since you disappeared from outside. Sixteen minutes of listening to Jungkook touch himself and moan and whine and whimper. Tease you with new possibilities you had never considered before. And now he’s satisfied and you’re not.

Jungkook chuckles, low and tired. The sound shoots straight to your cunt. “Come over after you shift,” he says, as if you’re not planning to fake a severe case of the flu right now in order to get off early and run to his bed. You only had a little less than two hours of your shift left anyway. Not like they paid you well to begin with. Jungkook shifts, releases one of those saccharine groans as he probably snuggles into his bed, all sweaty and worn out. “Want you to fuck my face, baby.”

You frown, counting to ten to calm yourself down. Another few minutes of listless conversation, and you hang up. Your body feels featherlight, a little woozy as you make your way back out into the floor.

Nothing has changed. Customers pour in and out, your boss scolds you for a display you didn’t do, and life inside the store drags on. No one knows that you’re soaking your panties to hell and back, Jungkook’s soothing moans in your ear. Life goes on.

you shift ends in 20

jungkook♡ sweet jungkook♡ got your seat ready jungkook♡ Attachment: 1 Image

Copyright © 2020, 1kook on tumblr. absolutely NO reposts allowed.

[honey-coloured-passion]

It’s A Secret (Sapnap x Reader)

first fic first fic!

summary: Dream convinces you and Sap to join a competition where the loser gets exposed, but nothing ever goes as planned when your favorite boy is involved : )

“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard in my life.” you laughed, rolling your eyes at Sapnap and Dream’s antics. “C’monnn it’ll be so funny the viewers will eat it up!” Dream cooed while you groaned “you say that cuz you always get like more views than Sap and I combined!” To which Dream choked out laughter through his familiar wheeze. “Oh come on, how much money for you to do it?” you heard Sapnap die from laughter over the call at Dream’s bribe before he piped up, “whoever gets exposed you’re buying dinner Dream,” and Dream immediately agreed. “Absolutely worth it, you in y/n?” and you shook your head, “why the hell not I guess.”

You started up your stream, adjusting your headset nervously as you watched chat speed up at the title “Least viewers gets exposed vs Dream and Sap” all confused as to what was going on as their three favorite streamers all went live simultaneously. “Gooooood day chat what’s up!” you grinned, thanking a couple gifters and waiting to see Dream pop up in team speak to give the challenge information. “You guys better stick with me today, I don’t wanna lose the secret challenge,” you laughed, noticing Sap and Dream joined the channel.

“Ready to learn the rules dear viewers?” Dream laughed maniacally. You watched your chat going absolutely crazy. 

“Here’s how it works, we are gonna stream for thirty minutes doing everything we can to get the most viewers, then the person with the least at the end has to tell a secret they wrote down on stream, and trust me guys they’re all sooo good.” Dream wheezed while Sapnap chuckled before continuing. “We all told our secrets to George who didn’t want to stream with us cuz he’s lazy but it works cuz now he’s our keeper, so it’ll be fair and George can confirm all the secrets are crazy,” Your chat was losing it’s mind asking you what your secret was. 

“So let the view-competition begin” and with that, Dream left the call. “Sap you gonna stay and hang or leave?” you asked, racking your brain to find a way to get hella viewers as soon as possible. “I’ll hang” Sapnap answered to your relief. “Good I can farm your viewers then,” you teased with a giggle. Then your phone started to buzz, and you saw Dream was tweeting out the information and begging for people to come to his stream. “Oh hell no, chat help me out!” you laughed, going to tweet on your own account. 

10 minutes in: Dream 68k, You 43k, Sapnap 39k.

“Sapnapppp I’m so excited to learn your deepest darkest secret” you cooed with an evil laugh while Sapnap punched your minecraft character. “Whatever I’ll clutch up, work smarter not harder dear y/n,” you could hear the playful tone in his voice, swallowing the butterflies that kept trying to surface. “How can you work smarter if you barely have a braincell dork!” you teased, beginning to crit out his character when he realized, pearling away with a screech. “You do NOT want to play this game with me I’ll destroy you,” he ate a golden apple then began running towards you axe in hand while you screeched, running away. 

15 minutes in: Dream 65k, Sapnap 45k, You 44kk.

“Sapnap how the hell did you convince four different channels to raid you in the past five minutes WHAT” you pouted with a laugh, knowing you could beat him in viewers if you just got one or two more raids. “Mhm a magician never reveals his tricks,” you rolled your eyes though your chat kept spamming “why is y/n blushing so much?” and “SIMPNAP SIMPNAP” because Sapnap was helping you decorate and finish the design of your house. You had to agree with chat, he was adorable, bringing you flowers, collecting the exact type of wood you needed, helping to fill your chests, you were beginning to forget about the competition and just enjoy his presence. 

20 minutes in: Dream 68k, Sapnap 46k, You 45k.

“Oh my god it’s so close between you guys” Dream wheezed as he joined your voice channel. “Hey Dreammm wanna send me some stray viewers?” you giggled while Dream denied you. “Mhm no but maybe you can ask Mr. Simpnap to send you some of his? Heard it’s not the only thing he’s been giving you and I figured I’d crash the date.” Dream teased, his tone dangerous while Sapnap exclaimed, “hell no I’m not losing this competition and I am not a simp, especially not for y/n” Sapnap drew out your name, you could hear the smile you adored dancing on his lips. Chat was going crazy, though it was pretty well known how close you and Sapnap were due to the two of you always being on call together and just being found on the SMP hanging out, it was rare the two of you gave the fans this much flirting in one stream. Not that there weren’t hundreds of Y/N x Sapnap compilations on youtube of people pointing out how you and Sap had been in a TeamSpeak room together alone for five hours straight, or him getting defensive of you on the SMP, or him constantly complimenting your skill during MCC’s. Not to mention you always asking where Sapnap was, or someone else asking and you answering quickly, showing how frequently the two of you talked. Needless to say, he was one of your best friends, but that wasn’t gonna stop you from destroying him in this competition. 

25 minutes in: Dream 78k, Sapnap 54k, You 51k.

“Hello to my new viewers! Glad you came back to support! Huge shoutout to Niki for the raid and all the raiders who stayed I love y’all!” Your palms were getting sweaty, you needed to get 3k viewers in five minutes or George was gonna drop one of your most embarrassing secrets to the world. “How are you feeling Miss Y/n?” Dream teased, he knew he was safe. “Shut up Dream if I lose I’m ordering some expensive ass food for you to pay for,” you shot back, making him die of laughter. “At least I’m not the one who’s gonna get exposed in front of like 180 thousand views,” you flipped off the camera with a grin, hoping he was looking at your stream. 

28 Minutes in: Dream 78k Sapnap 55k, You 51k.

“Man I think it’s over what do you think Sap?” Dream teased while you laughed, still hopeful that something could happen in two minutes. “Eh I say give it another minute then we call it. You never know” Sap replied cooly. “Shut up you’re like 4 thousand people ahead it’s over for me” you pretended to cry, making Sapnap and Dream break into laughter. “You really don’t wanna lose huh.” Sapnap said, “um duh, this sucks,” you answered, quickly refreshing your view count. 

Then something crazy happened. 

~Sapnap is raiding with a party of 55k~

30 minutes, time up: You 110k, Dream 78k, Sapnap 0.

“WHAT” Dream was the first to scream. You did a triple take before screeching into the mic “SAPNAP WHAT ARE YOU DOING” to which he quietly replied, “I didn’t want you to be sad.” making your cheeks flush to an ungodly warmth. “Oh- uh does this still count? What’s happening?” you reached for your water bottle when George joined the call. 

“Interesting ending, but I know the secret so I guess I’d say it makes sense” You froze. “What the hell does that mean?” You said, noticing Sapnap had turned on his camera function in the call. “O-ok, George you gonna announce his secret?” Dream tried to take control, noticing his chat was spinning out of control. George piped up, "I think it’s better Sapnap says it. I’m just here to make sure he doesn’t chicken out,” Then Sapnap cleared his throat. “Well so uh, I guess my secret is...” You saw him look straight into the camera, his eyes felt like they were meeting yours.

“I like you y/n. Like a lot.”

Your jaw fell open, George and Dream began screaming and whooping, and your chat absolutely lost it’s mind, going so fast your chat function crashed. Your immediate reaction was to mute yourself on stream. “I’m muted now- Sap- Nick, are you serious?” you gulped, staring at Sapnap’s video while he couldn’t stop grinning. “You really think I’d do all this just to lie? No chance in hell. We can talk about it after stream but I thought it’d be fun to do it live. I can help you end stream if you want?” Your brain was flying high, your heart beating out of your chest, and your mods were begging for help. 

“O-okay. Uh hey chat! Nice stream today, record high viewer ship thanks to uh- Nick- Sapnap, thanks to Sapnap um, I’m gonna get off now,” You took a few deep breaths, gaining your traction before continuing. You hovered your mouse over the end stream button but decided you had one more thing to say. Leaning close into the mic with a smile you whispered, 

“Oh and Sapnap, I like you too” 

~live ended~

checkout my other sapnap fic!

[vivithefolle]

Ron’s greatest acts of bravery

An itty-bitty butthurty Harmony shipper reported this answer of mine and got it deleted by the Quora moderation. Naturally, I have contested this decision, but my appeal has been unanswered as of now. So here’s what we’re going to do, folks: I’m gonna repost this answer of mine here, where no angwy widdle Hawmony shipper can censor it. And y’all are going to spam the reblog button until people can’t go in the Harry Potter tag without finding this answer reblogged at least five times over. Good? Good.

(this is totally a demarcation line I don’t know what you’re talking about)

What was Ron Weasley's greatest act of bravery in any of the Harry Potter movies or books?

We of course have the mythical “I’ll be a knight” but that’s so easy. Ron would die for his loved ones any day of any week, because that’s how stupidly selfless and self-effacing he is.

There is the equally mythical “If you want to kill Harry, you’ll have to kill us too!” which reeks of badassery and awesomeness, but it has also been quoted before, and to be fair that wasn’t one of Ron’s greatest acts of bravery. Oh, yes, it is incredibly brave, but Ron has plenty more of those to give.

One that is often forgotten is “He beat you!”, spoken to Voldemort in the flesh, which also highlights just how far Ron has come from the beginning of the series - because unlike what the haters want you to believe, Ronald Weasley has an actual character arc. An arc that keeps getting reseted and postponed in-between books because his author is too busy trying to make her Mary Sue look better instead, but he has one, and it’s so perfectly illustrated by this:

"... and until Hagrid told me, I didn't know anything about be ing a wizard or about my parents or Voldemort" Ron gasped. "What?" said Harry. "You said You-Know-Who's name!" said Ron, sounding both shocked and impressed. "I'd have thought you, of all people --" - Philosopher’s Stone

—-

"Malfoy's dad must have told him," said Harry, ignoring Ron. "He was right in Voldemort's inner circle --" "Say You-Know-Who, will you?" interjected Ron angrily. - Prisoner of Azkaban

—-

“My scar hurts, and three days later the Death Eaters are on the march, and Voldemort's sign's up in the sky again." "Don't - say - his - name!" Ron hissed through gritted teeth. "And remember what Professor Trelawney said?" Harry went on, ignoring Ron. - Goblet Of Fire

—-

"You see?" said Voldemort, and Harry felt him striding backward and forward right beside the place where he lay. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now, deluded ones? He was nothing, ever, but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!" "He beat you!" yelled Ron, and the charm broke, and the defenders of Hogwarts were shouting and screaming again until a second, more powerful bang extinguished their voices once more.

From the boy who flinched at Voldemort’s name, to the man who was the first to sass back to Voldemort when the latter dissed his best mate. To say nothing of the fact that this was the first time Ron ever saw Voldemort in the flesh. Ron had never seen Voldemort before, yet the second Voldemort says something about Harry, Ron is up in arms and ready to kill the Dark Lord with his bare hands.

We could go with the tested-and-true “follow the spiders”. Unlike in the movies where Harry immediately sees a trail of spiders and Ron follows moaning and bumbling all the while, in the books Harry and Ron are comfortably in the castle when they decide to follow. Ron has the time to psych himself up, to terrify himself into imagining the spiders, and was given the time to backtrack a million times over. But he didn’t. This one Tumblr post has said it all.

Yes, “Follow the spiders” is probably one of Ron’s bravest moments, but…

But, but, but.

There’s more.

Sure, I absolutely adore Ron and can’t choose between all those awesome moments he has to his name, because they’re all so wonderful. From the ones that highlight just how much he’s grown and developed in spite of his own author treating him like an afterthought; from the ones that showcase just how good a kid he is, how much he loves and fights for his friends; all those moments that show that no, Ron Weasley isn’t a fair-weather friend and anyone who calls him that needs a high-five in the face with a block of concrete…

Out of those moments, out of them all, I have to pick something that is too often forgotten, too often glossed over, even by those of us who love Ron.

I’m talking, naturally, of his return.

Harry had no strength to lift his head and see his savior’s identity. All he could do was raise a shaking hand to his throat and feel the place where the locket had cut tightly into his flesh. It was gone. Someone had cut him free. Then a panting voice spoke from over his head, “Are—you—mental?”

Whether you think that Ron “abandoned” Harry and Hermione, whether you think that Ron is a traitor or a man with the patience of a saint who put up with Harry and Hermione’s bullshit for too long. Whether you think the three times Harry told him to leave were a factor or whether you place the blame solely on Ron’s shoulders.

Ron comes back to save Harry’s life.

But not only that.

“No!” said Ron. “No, don’t open it! I’m serious!” “Why not?” asked Harry. “Let’s get rid of the damn thing, it’s been months—” “Because that thing’s bad for me!” said Ron, backing away from the locket on the rock. “I can’t handle it! I’m not making excuses, Harry, for what I was like, but it affects me worse than it affected you and Hermione, it made me think stuff — stuff I was thinking anyway, but it made everything worse. I can’t explain it, and then I’d take it off and I’d get my head on straight again, and then I’d have to put the effing thing back on—I can’t do it, Harry!” He had bakced away, the sword dragging at his side, shaking his head.

Ron came back, even though he knew it would mean being with the thing that had tortured him all this time.

The thing that latched onto all of Ron’s weak spots, cultivated them, weaponized them, used them to push Ron closer and closer to the edge, until he couldn’t take it anymore and snapped. (Funny how some will act as though Hermione’s birds were her “snapping”, but when Ron is holding Voldemort’s soul in his hands and going insane under their very eyes they just say “hurr durr teh locket didnt do nuthin”…)

And with this thing preying on him, tormenting him, Ron did what any rational, sane human being would have done when their abuser forgets to lock the door.

He opened it and ran.

But, but, but, and that’s where the bravery comes in.

He came back.

He knew there was this thing that preyed upon him relentlessly, a thing that managed to make him believe his best friends didn’t want nor cared about him, that his entire existence amounted to nothing, that he was just a waste of space nobody wanted around.

“Why return? We were better without you, happier without you, glad of your absence... We laughed at your stupidity, your cowardice, your presumption —”

“You mother confessed,” sneered Riddle-Harry, while Riddle-Hermione jeered, “that she would have preferred me as a son, would be glad to exchange...” “Who wouldn’t prefer him, what woman would take you, you are nothing, nothing, nothing to him,” crooned Riddle-Hermione

Ron fled from this sort of abuse, from this sort of torture, then he decided to come back for more.

Because even though he believed his friends didn’t need him, even though he thought his friends were better off without him, he still wanted to make himself useful. He still wanted to help.

And once he’d saved Harry, he was back to facing the entity that has been torturing him, and that entity proceeded to show off Ron’s deepest, most shameful secrets… to his best mate.

Ron’s entire self-esteem is tied to the way his loved ones perceive him:

“You did brilliantly, Ron!” This time it really was Hermione running toward them from the stands; Harry saw Lavender walking off the pitch, arm in arm with Parvati, a rather grumpy expression on her face. Ron looked extremely pleased with himself and even taller than usual as he grinned at the team and at Hermione.

The image the Mirror of Erised showed Ron was one of glory and fame… or was it?

"No -- I'm alone -- but I'm different -- I look older -- and I'm head boy!" "What?" "I am -- I'm wearing the badge like Bill used to -- and I'm holding the house cup and the Quidditch cup -- I'm Quidditch captain, too."

Being Head Boy and Quidditch captain. He could have seen himself being crowned World’s Best Emperor if he wanted, with legions of fans throwing himself at him, but that doesn’t happen.

Instead he sees himself being like Bill. Like his cool older brother. And Quidditch captain, like his other cool older brother Charlie.

What Ron wants… is to make his loved ones proud.

Ron defines himself by the way his loved ones look at him.

When Malfoy calls him an idiot he scoffs because it’s Malfoy. When Hermione calls him an idiot, though…? Ouch.

And now all of Ron’s secrets, all his feelings of inadequacy and inferiority that he has tried to keep quiet throughout the series out of respect for Harry, his deepest fears… They’re all there for Harry to see, for Harry to judge, for Harry to feel disgusted by. Because how dare Ron Weasley have problems, how dare Ron Weasley be envious of Harry Potter, whose life is nothing but suffering?

Ron’s greatest act of bravery, to me, was coming back, even though for all he knew Harry and Hermione had hooked up while he was gone (they’d never, of course, but how could he know?), even though he knew it would mean being up for Round #2 of his private torture sessions with Voldemort, even though he believed he wouldn’t be welcome…

He still came back. Because it was the right thing to do.

Anyone who’s gonna tell me that Ronald Weasley isn’t loyal to the core can suck on a cactus.

[kingsuckjin]

I'm sorry that this isn't exactly what you asked for anon. It's just an unedited little short thing I wrote for this, but I still hope you still enjoy it.

My love

Yandere!Jimin x reader

Warnings: yandere, stalking, masturbation(m and f) slight horror

Words: 2k

---------

Jimin watched as you giggled at the laptop screen on your bed in your matching dark blue bra and underwear. You had just started your stream and he couldn't be more happy.

"I'm so happy to see you today my love!" Jimin typed out on his phone screen to send into your already busy chat room. He felt like he had waited so long for you to begin your nightly camming session.

"ChimmyChims!" You read off Jimin's screen name with such excitement and enthusiasm, it had warmed Jimin's heart. You always seemed to perk up at his screen name. Jimin wasn't for sure whether it was because you had a large poster of him right over your bed and you thought he was a Jimin fan too or because of how much he always tipped and paid you to do seemingly weird things for him.

Your voice was like music to his ears. He was in love and he knew it, he would easily give you anything you wanted.

He pressed the button on his phone screen to tip her a crazy amount just as he did every night. To him, he loved seeing her get all surprised and excited every time he tipped her. Jimin also wanted to let everyone in the chat know he was hers because he gave her the most money. Sometimes other guys would come in and try to outdo him, but they were no match for the Idol's limitless bank account.

"How about you ditch this place and give me a show tonight?" Jimin bravely typed out into the chat while the other men spammed their hellos.

Jimin just wanted to be alone with you like he did every night.

"Hmmm, I don't know. You just talked me into doing that the other day." You gave the screen a wink and a laugh "and also you did pay me quite a lot to change my name on here to JiminsGirl, not that I'm complaining of course" she looked back at her poster "but I just don't want anyone to think you were my favorite or anything." You teased with a wink that told Jimin he knew he was your favorite. He couldn't help but smile at his phone as he typed out a private message to you.

"But my love, I really want you tonight. I have so much to give you." He hinted that his bank account was open and ready to go. He watched as you typed out a reply on your laptop, which was basically your only set up for camming. Jimin liked that your set up was simple, he liked that at most you would only have around a hundred guys watching you at s time. As far as he was concerned, you were his. He supported you and you loved him just as much as he did you, you had even said so yourself without him even having to pay you to do so.

"Alright cutie. Whatever you want, just for you." Was your typed out message back to him before he heard you announce you were about to leave to go to an important private show. It made Jimin's heart flutter that you would put him above all else like that, you always did.

He made sure you were off the sight and had shut down the stream before video calling you via your laptop with his phone. He didn't connect his own video as usual, but you were always fine with him just typing things out to you.

"Hi cutie!" You grinned at him cheerfully as he adjusted his ear pods in his ear and turned down the volume.

"Hi my love!" Jimin typed to you "how was your day? Did you think about Jimin a lot today?"

"It was a rough day, but thanks to you they didn't shut my electric off. You gave me the money just in time. I don't know how I can ever thank enough for that. How about this private show is on me? Just for you?" You smiled seeming truly thankful for him. "Oh, and I did think about Jimin today, I do everyday, but not as much as I think about you."

Jimin thought if only she knew. Maybe one day he would risk it, show himself to her, be able to finally be with his one true love. He had almost a few times out of sheer temptation, he was absolutely dying to. Maybe today would be that day for Jimin, it was a special day after all. It was your one year anniversary together. Well, it had been a year since had found you and fallen in love.

He had never been a big believer of love at first sight or soulmates or anything like that, but he firmly believed that the universe had brought you two together for a reason. You needed him to care for you and he needed you to love him, be his light when he got too stressed or sad, and you always had been.

"Oh no, you don't have to do that, I'll give you whatever you want, it doesn't matter to me. And You don't have to lie like that, I know how much you love Jimin. Like I've said before, just pretend I'm him, I love it when you do that." He typed out on his phone quickly and sent it to you and heard your laughter as you read it.

"If I didn't know any better I'd think you actually were Park Jimin." You said teasingly and Jimin just replied with a smirking face emoji matching the one he wore now in the dark as he stared down at his phone.

"So what will it be today, cutie? Same as usual?" You asked and held up to the screen the realistic dido Jimin loved so much for you to play with yourself with. It made it much easier for him to imagine himself inside of you.

"Of course. And then maybe a little conversation after?" He sent and watched you read the screen.

"Anything for you." You purred as you sat up on your knees on the bed and pushed your midnight blue bra straps down before removing the bra entirely.

This was Jimin's cue to reach his hand down the front of his black sweatpants and begin to pump his already hard cock as he watched you pinch your nipples, rolling them between your thumb and index finger. He had to press his lips together to stifle a moan as you let out a little whimper at the feeling.

He watched you as you trailed your hand down your torso next and into your matching dark panties. No matter how many times he had watched you touch yourself, it always made his legs weak, he could never get enough of you as he imagined doing it himself.

He used his free hand to type to you. "Oh god I'm so hard for you, my love."

You glanced at the screen to read it but carried on touching yourself. Once you had read it though, it seemed to fuel you into pulling off those pretty, lacy underwear and pick up the dildo.

"Fuck yourself nice and hard for me, call out Jimin's name like I know you do when no one is watching." Jimin replied. He wasn't worried about freaking you out with that seeing as he's had you do it numerous times before for him.

"okay" you moved the laptop to the foot of the bed and laid back onto your pillows. It was just the position Jimin liked you in. He could see your dripping cunt so well from here.

He watched you in anticipation as his hand movement mirrored you sliding the dildo into your pussy.

"Fuck Jimin!" You whined with closed eyes. Jimin bit down on his lip hard as you began to fuck yourself and play with your clit just for him, calking out his name, with his poster in the background. He swore he was going to marry you just so he could have you all to himself.

It was the five minutes of domestic thoughts of you along with the sound of your orgasm barreling through you, leaving you squirming on the bed that almost pushed Jimin over the edge. Almost. He had stopped himself before actually reaching his peak along with you this time.

You panted a moment and he waited for you to come down from your high, but he found you were looking up at the poster of him just behind your head. Had you really been staring at his face as you came? Jimin felt a thrill run through him.

"I swear to god I'm going to marry that man." He heard you mutter.

And that was enough for him.

He had just been thinking that same thought about you just moments ago.

It was indeed fate and this only confirmed you loved him.

"Anyway," you sighed and sat up with the smile back on your face. How was that? I can keep going if you want."

"You should." Jimin had already typed out and sent as you spoke.

"What? Keep going? I can come gain for you if-" your sentence was cut off as you read Jimin's next reply on the screen.

"No, marry him."

"Don't give me hope." You laughed out as if it were too far fetched to ever happen.

"What if I told you I was Jimin?" Jimin had already typed out and pressed send as he watched your smile never fade through his phone screen.

"Oh stop. Listen, you shouldn't want to be Jimin. I like you for how you are, I don't just talk to you all the time because you pay me, I actually think you're a really nice guy. I like you for you, even if I've never seen you and I don't know your real name. We've spent countless hours just talking and I feel like we really get each other, you know."

This was it.

Jimin typed out the message before erasing it and typing it out again.

You would love him, this would make you happy. After he pressed send he could be with the love of his life, the pretty and sweet girl that put him before anyone else.

"Do you want to see what I look like?"

The moment he pressed send his heart pounded wildly in his chest.

"I would love to!" You seemed so excited at his offer.

Jimin took a deep breath as he pushed open the cracked closet door he had been watching you through half the time with his phone in hand.

You let out a horrified scream as a man emerged from it.

Jimin rushed over to you to try to calm your screaming wide eyed look.

"Its okay! It's okay its just me my love!" He sputtered out quickly as you crawled backwards on your bed away from him until your back was pressed against the headboard and his poster on the wall.

You had stopped screaming but now you just looked at him in frozen shock with wide eyes and a wide open mouth.

"See? It's okay. I told you I was Jimin, now we can actually be together and get married just like you said. It's our one year anniversary too, so I decided to surprise you and finally show myself tonight. I don't even have to hide in your closet every night anymore and you never have to be poor or feel unloved ever again!"

Your gut crawled in horror at his wide, cheerful smile that you once found cute and endearing.

You slowly reached for your phone on your bedside table wondering how you were going to call the police without him noticing.

[iliketoreadstuf]

newbie (spencer reidxOC!) part 2

a/n: i’m just going to post everything i have written rn which is a lot so hopefully none of y’all get mad at me for spamming the tag bahaha

warnings: sexual assault mention, violence and injury

part one

chapter two: 

Delaney woke with puffy eyes to her alarm at her bedside table. Shooting up from her sleeping position, she turned the loud alarm off and slipped out of the covers. She dug through her duffel bag to find her toiletries and she got in the shower, washing her hair and body with her soaps she brought from home.

She inhaled the relaxing scents of her floral soaps and stepped out when she was satisfied. Delaney looked in the mirror to find that her eyes were still slightly puffy and bloodshot. God, she looked like shit. Hurriedly, she combed and dried her hair, curling the ends. She put on minimal makeup, but enough to cover her heavy eyes.

Delaney stepped into a periwinkle pencil skirt and a fuzzy white sweater. She slipped into white heels and tied her hair back with a ribbon. Feeling like herself again, she let out a determined sigh and packed her things in her bag. Right as she was getting ready to leave, she heard a knock on her door. She opened it and found Spencer standing there.

He gave her a nervous smile and held out a travel cup. It smelled like coffee, which made Delaney smile. He had on a brown sweater with a burgundy tie and a white button-up. His hair was endearingly messy and curly and his eyes were bleary with sleep. She took the cup and closed her door behind her.

“Hey, thank you.” She smiled at him, taking a sip.

“Y-yeah. Of course.” He replied, twiddling with his fingers nervously.

“Reid, I’m sorry about last night. I wasn’t in a good state of mind and it was sweet of you to come to check on me. I-I’m not used to people, um, caring enough to check on me. So, thank you.” Delaney said, looking deep into his hazel eyes.

Spencer didn’t even process what was happening until Delaney’s arms were around his middle and her head was resting on his chest. She smelled like flowers and seemed to fit so perfectly against him. He wrapped his arms around her and set his chin on top of her head. He waited for her to let go of him first. She didn’t for at least a minute.

When Delaney pulled away, she had a small smile on her face as she wrapped her arm around his. Spencer was a good guy. She didn’t want to push him away as she did to a lot of people. Like she had the night before.

“You’re a good friend.” She smiled up at him, pulling him towards the elevators.

Spencer just let her pull him with a dazed expression. He wanted to ask her about the night before but decided that she should be the one to tell him. They stood in silence as they rode down to the lobby.

“So, what are we going to be doing today? Figuring out a geographical profile? I can help you with that.” Delaney said, her demeanor changing as she shifted into work mode.

“Yeah, Hotch will probably have us working on the geographical profile and everyone else will be trying to figure out the unsub’s identity,” Spencer said as the elevator door opened.

Delaney let go of his arm and walked over to the gathered members of their team. She looked back and gestures for Spencer to come faster. He grinned and picked up his pace, standing beside her as Hotch came over to the group.

“Okay, everyone. We’re all going to the station now. Wilmer, Reid, I want you two working on the geographical profile. Morgan, Rossi, I want you two to check out the other bars the victims were found at, maybe try to get some more information on the unsub. Prentiss, JJ, and I will interview the families of the victims. Everyone clear on their assignments?” Hotch said, looking around at the group.

Everyone nodded and piled into the SUV’s. Delaney was squished between Prentiss and Spencer, Hotch and Rossi in the front.

“How was your night, Wilmer?” Emily asked from beside her.

“Pretty good. I was exhausted and fell asleep quickly. How was yours?” Delaney asked her politely.

“Oh, you know. JJ snores and was up talking to Henry until midnight. The usual.” Emily grinned playfully.

Delaney realized that everyone else probably had a roommate. Delaney was simultaneously glad that she didn’t have one but sad that she didn’t have one. She looked over at Spencer curiously.

“Who are you rooming with, Reid?” She asked curiously.

“Morgan.” He said, shrugging his shoulders lightly.

“Oh, that must be fun. Does Morgan snore, too?” Delaney asked with a smile.

“From past experience of rooming with Morgan, yes, Wilmer, he does snore,” Rossi said from the passenger seat.

Delaney laughed lightheartedly. Spencer looked over at her with a wide grin on his face. Her laugh was extremely contagious and, soon enough, everyone in the car was laughing at Morgan’s expense. Spencer enjoyed how easily Delaney seemed to be fitting in with the team. Even Hotch was cracking a smile as Delaney laughed.

“So, how are you enjoying your first case, Wilmer?” Emily asked once their laughter died down.

“I like it. I’m excited to get to work with the genius today in his element.” Delaney bumped her shoulder into Spencer’s.

Spencer just rolled his eyes as his cheeks turned pink. Prentiss didn’t miss his reaction to Delaney. She met eyes with him over Delaney’s head and smirked knowingly at him. His eyes widened as he shook his head at her. She stifled a laugh and put her hands up, vowing not to say anything to embarrass him. Rossi met her eyes in the rearview mirror, both of them looking amused.

They got to the station and split up, Spencer and Delaney spreading out a map on their evidence board while the rest of the team went their separate ways. Delaney stepped out of her heels as the two of them started working on the logistics of the map. She marked where each girl was found and the two of them examined it. Spencer’s mind seemed to be running a mile a minute, looking between the markings.

Delaney was doing the same and both of them seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time. The unsub was making his way around Atlanta in a circular shape. Delaney went to the map and circled the area that he was avoiding. He had a clear comfort zone and there were only a few bars he had left to hit before he completed the circle.

“He’s got to live in this area and if we’re right, he’s going to hit this bar next,” Delaney said, pointing at a mark on the map with her marker.

“Yeah, let’s call Hotch and see if they’ve found anything on the unsub’s identity,” Spencer said, already pulling his phone out and dialing the number.

Hotch picked up and informed them that they caught the unsub on one of the cameras in the bar. Hotch had sent the video to Garcia, who was soon talking to them through a group call. Garcia informed them that the man in the footage’s name was Damien Reynolds, who was a 27-year-old man who had a past girlfriend that he was engaged to but eventually broke up with him due to his violent behavior towards her. She’d been recently married a month ago to another man and moved away.

“She got married right around the time the killings started,” Delaney said, the case slowly starting to come together.

“And based on the geographical profile Wilmer and I came up with, this is the bar he’s going to be hitting next,” Spencer said, pointing to the spot on the map to Garcia on the screen.

“Ah, yes, pretty boy, and his address is directly in the center of the kill zone,” Garcia said, sending them the address.

“We’ll come back to the station now and discuss everything we’ve found. Good work everyone.” Hotch said and hung up.

Spencer and Delaney high-fived each other with big grins. They held onto each other’s hands for a beat too long and quickly let each other go. Both of them had flushed cheeks and Delaney cleared her throat with a small smile.

“I’m gonna go get some more coffee. You want some?” She asked him, slipping her shoes back on.

“Yeah, thank you,” Spencer said, still trying to control his flustered state.

“Wait, let me guess how you take it. Hmm, what would a genius drink with his coffee? Black? No, five tablespoons of sugar?” Delaney asked, a teasing smile coming over her face.

“Just two tablespoons, please.” He said, unable to keep a straight face.

“Sure thing, doctor.” She winked and walked out of the room.

She walked over to the coffee machine and poured two cups, obliging Spencer’s request of two tablespoons to his and adding four tablespoons to hers and a splash of creamer. She didn’t like coffee all that much if she was honest, but she needed the energy. As she was stirring hers, an officer came over to her. He was probably in his 20’s, blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked like a Ken doll. He gave her a charming smile as he leaned against the counter.

“Hey, I’m Will. Delaney, right? You’re with the BAU.” The officer said, seemingly already knowing her.

“Uh, yeah. Agent Wilmer.” She said with a polite smile, holding her hand out for him to shake.

“You don’t seem old enough to be in the FBI. Tell me, Wilmer, how old are you?” He asked, holding her hand and pulling her a little closer.

She widened her eyes and gently pulled her hand away from him. This guy obviously didn’t see a lot of young women at his work, considering that most of their department were men.

“All you need to know is that I’m old enough to be in the BAU and the FBI. It was nice meeting you, Will.” She said, stepping away from him.

“Hey, do you guys ever get a break? Usually, after work, my buddies and I go out for a drink. Maybe you’d like to join us?” He asked, stepping closer to her again.

Delaney raised an unamused eyebrow at him. He didn’t seriously think she would consider going out for a drink with him and his friends, right? She had just got here and had serious work to do.

“No, I’m sorry. Unfortunately, there are women being murdered right now and my team is working hard to figure out who’s doing it. I don’t have time to get a drink.” She said sharply, grabbing the coffees and walking away from him.

She heard other officers snickering at their friend, obviously amused by her rejection. Delaney’s cheeks were flushed with frustration as she walked back into the conference room and shut the door a little too forcefully. Spencer seemed to have been watching the whole time and raised his eyebrows when she set down the coffees with a sigh.

“You okay? I saw that officer come up to you.” Spencer said, his eyes dark with seriousness.

“Men think they have the right to come up and ask women on dates whenever they please. I’ve never spoken a word to that guy and yet he thought I would just say yes to getting drinks with him and his pig friends.” Delaney said, looking down at her hands and angrily picking her nails.

“Hey, stop that. Just ignore them, alright? Considering the work we’ve accomplished today, we should only be here another day or two.” Spencer said, grabbing her hands to stop her from picking at her skin.

Delaney sighed and looked up at him. His eyes were so comforting as she stared into them that she believed anything he said. She slowly nodded and picked up her coffee. He let go of her hands and looked out the window at that cop. He was watching them in the conference room and Spencer glared harshly at him. The cop quickly looked away and seemingly got back to work.

The team got there shortly after that and they all discussed the possibilities of where and when the unsub would strike. They went over all the facts for hours until it started getting dark out. Garcia sent a picture of Damien’s ex-girlfriend, and sure enough, she was small and blonde. As all of them sat at the round table, Hotch and Rossi were talking quietly together.

Hotch cleared his throat and looked at Delaney. She shifted in her seat as her eyes widened slightly.

“Rossi and I came up with a plan that involves you, Wilmer.” He said hesitantly, obviously worried about Delaney’s reaction.

“Okay?” She asked uneasily, having a feeling of where this was going.

“We want you to be bait for the unsub tonight. You will be wired and we’ll have eyes on you the whole time. We wouldn’t ask you to do this if it wasn’t important.” Hotch said.

“Woah, woah. You want her to lure in the unsub?” Spencer asked incredulously. “It’s her first case!”

“Yes, but she’ll be completely safe. She will never be alone and it could be a good chance for us to catch him.” Rossi said.

“I’ll do it,” Delaney said before anyone could protest it further.

“What? Delaney—” Spencer protested.

She gave him a look and he shut his mouth. Prentiss and JJ looked at each other with wide eyes, matching grins spreading across their faces. No one had shut him up like that before. The girls were amused and pretty impressed by Delaney’s ability.

“Okay, we need to start getting you ready. Reid, you and Wilmer have the bar you think the unsub will hit next, right?” Hotch asked while waving Delaney over.

Spencer nodded and Delaney stood from her seat and walked over to Hotch. He had one of his very serious expressions, his eyebrows drawn together.

“You don’t have to do this. I know you want to prove yourself to us but you don’t have to if you don’t feel comfortable.”

“I want to do this. If I can help us catch the unsub, why wouldn’t I do it?” Delaney said.

Hotch gave her a small grin and patted her shoulder.

“Do you have clothes that you could wear to the bar tonight? The unsub obviously likes girls who are dressed very feminine, so if you have a dress or something that would be best.”

“Yes, I can do that. Give me 20 minutes at the hotel and I’ll be ready to go.” Delaney said with determination.

“Alright, I’ll have JJ come with you and help you at the hotel,” Hotch said, waving JJ over to them.

JJ listened to Hotch’s orders and they were soon driving back to the hotel. JJ and Delaney walked into her room as she kicked her shoes off and JJ helped her look through her clothes. Rifling through her bag, JJ pulled out a tight black dress Delaney had brought in case the team went out to dinner. She always brought outfits for every occasion, she had a bad habit of overpacking. Delaney slipped it on, untangling the spaghetti straps, and pulling it down. It was shorter than something she’d usually wear at work and she felt slightly exposed in it. She slipped her feet into black heels with straps and put on some hoop earrings. Delaney quickly parted her hair down the middle and JJ helped her ruffle it around and spray it with some hairspray.

Delaney pulled out her makeup bag and leaned close to the mirror, applying smoky black eyeliner and more mascara and blush. She put on red lipstick and deemed herself ready. With a quick spritz of perfume, she packed her things back in her bag and walked back out. JJ was waiting on her bed and smiled at her as she walked out.

“Damien’s not going to be able to resist you.” She said with a sly smile.

“Thanks, JJ,” Delaney said with a smile.

The girls got in the car and made their way back to the station. As they drove, Delaney felt a question rising in her. She looked over at JJ and couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Hey, JJ?” She asked quietly.

JJ looked over at her with questioning eyes.

“Do you… ever get hit on by men? Like men working with you?” She asked hesitantly.

“All the time,” JJ said with a smile.

“How do you deal with it? I mean, a police officer came over to me today and just asked me to have a drink with him tonight. Just like that.” Delaney said, still frustrated by her encounter from earlier that day.

“Delaney, you’re young and beautiful and smarter than all of those men in the police station. They’re all going to be trying to get under your skin as long as you’re here. I’ve had to deal with it my whole career and the easiest thing you can do is just beat them at their own game. Use your intelligence and your beauty to put them in their place.” JJ said, glancing over at Delaney.

Delaney nodded and thought over her words. Just put them in their place.

“Okay. Thanks, JJ.” She said as they pulled into the police station.

“Anytime, kid.” She patted Delaney’s head and they got out of the car.

The girls made their way inside and Delaney immediately saw Will sitting at his desk. His mouth fell open when he saw her and she waved at him with a smirk. Most of the police officers followed her with their eyes and she tried to hold back a smile. Hotch had told her to look ready so she had to pull all the stops.

When they walked back into the conference room, the conversation stopped. Delaney nervously walked over to the table after JJ. She locked eyes with Spencer, who blushed and looked down.

“Too much?” She said with a smile.

“Damn, girl, you look good.” Morgan whistled with a smirk on his face.

Delaney smirked back and felt confidence surge in her chest. Some of the officers came over to see what was going on and why Delaney was dressed like that.

“Here, get yourself wired and we’ll get ready to leave. Spencer, you have the bar?” Hotch said, handing Delaney her wire.

“Huh? Oh, uh, yeah. He’s heading across the city in a circle, hitting every bar he comes across. If we’re right, he’ll be going to this one next.” Spencer pointed to a dot on his map that everyone looked at.

“Okay, everyone knows what to do. Delaney, I’ll have Reid brief you on what you need to do.” Hotch said, walking over to the officers gathered around.

Delaney walked over to Spencer, who was avoiding eye contact with her. She found it quite endearing as she sat next to him. He was fumbling with his tie as she wired herself.

“Okay, so you’re going to just act natural and sit at the bar for most of the night. Maybe get up and walk around but keep yourself visible to most people. We want the unsub to notice you and try to lure you out of the bar. You’ll need to keep us updated. I’ll be inside and most people will be outside waiting for you two to come out.” Spencer explained.

Delaney nodded and finished getting wired. She grabbed her phone and wallet, looking around at everyone. Her heart was beating quickly in her chest. If things went as planned tonight, she would be staring down a serial killer in a few hours. Possibly flirting with one.

“Ready?” Spencer asked, noticing her go off in her head.

“Yes. Ready as I’ll ever be.” Delaney said, forcing a smile on her face.

She walked out of the conference room with Emily and JJ, the officers still gawking at her as they passed. JJ gave her a look and winked, making Delaney smile. She just looked away from the officers and got in the car. Hotch and Rossi were in the front of the car as Delaney and Spencer slid in the backseat. She twiddled her fingers as they made their way to the bar. It was already dark out when they arrived and the bar was crowded.

“Okay, Wilmer, you’re going to tell the unsub that your name is Carly Harris. You’re 23 and you work as a secretary. Keep him talking for as long as possible. Remember that he’s young with dark brown hair. He’ll be charismatic and flirty.” Hotch prepped her.

“Got it.” Delaney nodded.

“Good luck, kid. You can do this.” Rossi smiled as Delaney got out of the car.

She just nodded and made her way into the bar, quickly showing her ID to the bouncer and walking in. Immediately she looked around for the unsub. No one caught her attention so she went up to the bar and sat down. She ordered a glass of wine reluctantly. She didn’t like alcohol very much and was pretty sensitive to its effects. She took small sips as she slowly looked around, trying not to look too interested.

Every once in a while she’d update the team through her wire, saying that she didn’t see anyone suspicious.

She spotted Spencer standing in a corner. He was watching her like a hawk and she hid her smile with her glass. She was too busy thinking about Spencer that she barely noticed a man come sit beside her. It was Damien Reynolds. She whispered in her wire that he was there. Hotch told her to act natural.

“Hello there.” He said with a smooth voice.

Delaney looked over at him. He had dark brown hair and a wide grin. Her heart started pounding in her chest as he looked over her body.

“Hello.” She said with a sultry smile.

“What’s your name, pretty thing?” He asked, leaning closer to her.

“Carly. What’s yours?” She allowed him to get closer and forced her body to face his.

“Damien. Damien Reynolds. It’s very nice to meet you, Carly.” He said, holding his hand out to her.

“You too, Mr. Reynolds.” She shook it with a smirk, knowing that the team would be on high alert right at that moment.

“Are you here with anyone, Carly?” He asked, not letting go of her hand.

“No.” She sighed and pretended to look devastated with a pout. “I’m all alone tonight.”

“Do you want to change that?” He asked with a glint in his eye.

“What did you have in mind?” Delaney asked eagerly, leaning forward on her elbows to get closer to him.

“Come with me.” He pulled her hand a little too forcefully, but she ignored it.

Her heart was pounding. Hotch said something in her ear as Damien pulled her somewhere in the bar.

“Wilmer, where is he taking you?” Hotch asked urgently in her ear.

“I’m not sure,” Delaney whispered.

Damien looked back at her curiously, wondering what she’d said. She just smiled sweetly, trying to hide her fear. He wasn’t taking her outside as he had with his previous victims. She quickly realized it was a storage closet.

“A storage closet?” She pretended to ask Damien but was really informing her team where she was.

Damien hummed in reply as he shut them in and locked the door. Delaney tried to control her breathing as he turned to her with animalistic eyes. He backed her up against a wall and started kissing down her neck. Delaney was trying to control her panicked breaths. Damien grabbed her waist and started kissing her lips. She forced herself to kiss him back when she felt one of his hands leaving her waist and coming behind his back.

Her breath was coming quickly as she was having flashbacks to that party. She saw the glint of a knife and quickly kicked her knee out to hit his groin. He doubled over with a groan and she punched out at his nose, blood quickly pouring out of it as he seethed at her.

“You bitch!” He screamed, lunging at her and hitting her over the head with the back of the knife.

Delaney cried out as she fell. He kicked her in the ribs and she groaned again. Hotch was practically yelling in her ear but she couldn’t see anything as Damien kicked her again and brought his knife up. He slashed at her arm, drawing a deep cut. She managed to scrape her nails across his arm, drawing blood and grabbing at his knife. She grabbed it and slashed all the way across his stomach. Delaney’s vision was blurring as she heard the door being kicked open. Damien’s eyes went feral when he saw FBI vests. He looked over at the window in the closet and opened it, climbing out right as Morgan and Hotch came in. His knife was still in Delaney’s hand, his blood dripping off the blade.

Morgan ran to the window and tried to shoot, but Damien was already gone. Delaney cried out in pain and Spencer came in, looking down at her with wide eyes. He quickly leaned down and helped her up, wrapping her uninjured arm around his shoulders. Delaney whimpered quietly and he looked down at her with panicked eyes.

“He got away!” Morgan said angrily.

Spencer wasn’t even paying attention to what happened with the unsub. He was looking down as Delaney seemed to be gaining strength. She let go of Spencer and rushed out of the closet, her breath moving too fast for her to properly breathe. She vaguely heard Spencer yelling at Hotch and Hotch responding.

“We need medical here now,” Hotch said urgently in his wire, his voice ringing through Delaney’s ear.

She’d made it outside and tried to control her breathing. Too much was happening. Memories were consuming her brain as she leaned against the building, sliding down in a crouched position. She didn’t even process the pain in her ribs or the blood sliding down her arm. All she could do was bury her face in her knees and try to get rid of her memories. As she sat there, she felt a hand rest on her back.

She looked up in surprise and found Spencer staring at her with worried eyes. She felt her tears slipping down her cheeks and his fingers slowly wiped them away. Delaney wasn’t sure what to do, she hadn’t had anyone do this to her before. His touch was so light and tender that it made her heart contract.

“Delaney, the ambulance is here. Can you stand so we can get you taken care of? Please?” He asked with a gentle voice.

She nodded, Spencer grabbing her hands to help her up from her crouched position. Delaney let him lead her towards the back of the ambulance where some doctors waited for her. They had her sit down as they examined her and wrapped her arm tightly in gauze. After examining her, they said she’d need to come in to get stitches and meds for her bruised ribs.

“Can’t I just take some Tylenol and get more gauze for this?” Delaney asked, not wanting to go to the hospital and stay there alone.

“Wilmer, you have a huge cut down your arm and a possible concussion. You need to go to the hospital.” Hotch said sternly.

“But we were so close. I-I want to help you get him.” Delaney said desperately.

“Kid, you’ve more than proven yourself to us. It’ll be easy now. You cut a gash through his stomach and probably broke his nose. He’s not going to get very far.” Rossi said, petting her head gently. “Do you want one of us to stay with you?”

“No, you should all be out there trying to get him. I-I’ll be fine.” She said, forcing a reassuring smile on her face.

“No way. I’ll stay with her. Everyone else should go search for Reynolds.” Spencer said, giving Delaney a look that meant she didn’t have a choice.

“Alright, thank you, Reid. Call us with updates.” Hotch said, then turned to Delaney. “You kicked his ass. Good work, Wilmer.”

Delaney tried not to beam but nodded her head at him. He squeezed her shoulder gently and walked away with Rossi. JJ and Emily came over to check that she was okay and then quickly hugged her as she was put on a gurney in the back of the ambulance. Spencer followed her and sat next to her, gently taking her hand.

“You didn’t have to come with me, Spencer. I’ll be okay.” Delaney said, feeling extremely tired as she lay on the gurney.

“Yeah, right. Be as stubborn as you want, but there was no way I was going to leave you. You don’t need to tell me whatever it is that’s been bugging you, but I do know that the unsub triggered it tonight. And I’m not leaving you alone when you’re in that state.” Spencer said sternly, looking her directly in the eyes.

Delaney gave him a soft smile, her eyelids suddenly heavy. The doctor put an IV in her arm and it felt cold as fluids pumped through her.

“You’re… a good guy, genius.” She mumbled as her eyes shut.

She faintly heard Spencer chuckle before she passed out.

[queenismykween]

Watched Toy Story 4 again and made a super long list of moments that I noticed and loved. MAJOR SPOILERS AHEAD!!! And hey, look, another cute picture of Woody holding Forky.

(Tom Holland and Chris Pratt in a movie together!? Sign me up! *after seeing trailer for Onward*)

The orchestra at the beginning with the castle! The whole score was nostalgic!

Nine years ago… (has it been that long?)

Barbie. (It was good to see her, lol.)

Operation Pull Toy! (Jinx between Woody and Bo. All the times they talk in sync is adorable and I had to list it.)

Bo pulling on Woody’s hat.

Bo: Billy! Goat! Gruff! Woody: You never told me they had names. Bo: “You never asked.”

Barrel of monkeys (callback to first movie) on Bo’s staff.

Woody thinking about getting in box with Bo (WHICH HAPPENS AT THE END OF THE MOVIE)

You’ve Got A Friend In Me. (Awww)

Andy’s new look! What a precious bean!

Toy Story 3 scene with Bonnie 😭 in the flashback

Bonnie’s name under Woody’s boot

(Oh, Woody, you’re okay to be a leader, even though Dolly took over) 

Buzz’s concern for Woody because Woody hasn’t been chosen for playtime for 3 days now.

Sheriff Jessie

Chair: Your first dust bunny! What are you going to call him? *Thumper. Tumbleweed.*

Dolly: Can’t you see I’m threatening everybody?

(Dolly, Woody cares about Bonnie too!)

(watching Bonnie cry cuz she doesn’t want to go to kindergarten.. of course Woody had to come with her!)

The two mothers!

Vivienne is a cute name.

Woody literally helps create Forky by giving Bonnie the materials! He is a dad!

Bon nie (under Forky’s popsicle feet)

Bonnie: This is Forky! Ms. Wendy: Hello Forky, I’m Miss Wendy. (I love it when teachers do that for their students)

Bonnie: I finished Kindergarten! (just after orientation, lol)

Bonnie’s love for Forky is my love for him.

Forky freaking out in the backpack. Both of them freaking out, actually.

Woody: Bonnie made a friend in class. Rex: Aw, that’s nice, she’s making friends already! Woody: No, she literally made a friend.

Forky: Trash?

Everyone: Hello, hi! Forky: Ah! *falls over and his eye pops out and Woody fixes it for him*

Forky kept running to the trash and Woody kept grabbing him.

The way Woody holds Forky! Like he’s a baby!

Woody: She had the biggest smile on her face when she played with Forky! *talking about Forky when he watched Bonnie play with him* #emotional support spork)

Woody: We gotta protect him! *Forky yeets himself in the trash*

Babysit him!

Woody kept throwing him on the bed continually every time he jumps in the trash. Woody cuddling against Bonnie.

Forky asleep with a paper on top of him in the trash.

Buzz: He’s quite a handful!

Woody grabbing Forky and freezing with him while Bonnie plays with them.

Tossing the trash can out of the RV.

Forky kept running from Woody.

Woody using his pull string as a lasso to grab Forky.

Randy Newman song!

Buzz noticing how tired Woody is and asking if he’s okay. Want me to take the next watch?

Buzz: The little voice inside me? Who do you think it is? Your inner voice advises you? *pushes button on himself*

Forky: I am not a toy. I’m a spork! I was made for soup, salad, and maybe even chili and then the trash. I’m litter! FREEDOM!! *flies out the window*

Woody: *out of the RV* Forky, where are you!? Forky: *face first in the ground*

The way Forky waddles, falls, then starts waddling again. Woody drags him on the road.

Forky: Carry me? Woody: No.

Woody: Happy memories for the rest of her life! Forky: Huh, what?

Fixing his pipe cleaner hand.

Forky: Wasn’t that annoying!? Woody: Thank you!! *about Buzz when talking about events from the first movie*

Forky: Useless? Just like me! Trash!

Forky: You mean she thinks I’m warm and cozy and squishy?

Forky: I’m Bonnie’s trash!

The way Woody holds Forky like a baby. (The sneaky music from Toy Story 2. I heard it!)

Forky running across the road to get to Bonnie.

Woody recognizing Bo’s lamp

Forky: Friend? Woody: A friend is like you and me! Forky: Trash? Woody: Yeah? #friendship goals

Second Chance Antiques. I finally get the name.

Forky shouting Bo’s name.B B B B B Bo!

*when Woody and Forky are hiding and Benson is pushing the carriage* Forky: Is that Bo? *screams when Benson turns his head*

Woody: This is Forky! Forky: I’m trash!

*Benson drops Woody and Forky in the carriage*

Forky: *in the carriage* Mh, what service.

Woody made in the 50’s. Cool!

Forky: Wow, you need to fix that! *about Gabby’s voice box*

Forky’s oblivious smile as the dolls surround them.

Gabby: Stop him, please. *haha, same*

Woody: Forky, we gotta get outta here! *holding his pipe cleaner arms as he runs away*

Old Lady: Nobody buys the toys anyway. *wink* (I think that’s true. All those creepy dolls..)

Jessie: Maybe we should’ve gone with the fork. Buzz: The spoon is safer. *cut to Bonnie holding a spoon*

Bonnie: There’s only one Forky! yep

Dad: Let’s go look outside. Maybe he fell on the ground.

Buzz: We should’ve guarded the utensil.

Buzz trying to assume being the leader.

What would Woody do?

Buzz flying!! Then falling with style on the ground.

Woody on the swing as Harmony pushes him. So cute.

The girl holding Bo, picks up Woody and ahhhh! My heart!

Woody and Bo trying to hug but it’s awkward.

More jinxing!

Woody: Well if it isn’t.. Bobby, Gus, Lefty?

The grape soda cap the sheep found! Clearly from Up!

Bo: Don’t stare. Giggle McDimples: I’m totally staring!

(He’s a cop! *Giggle about Woody*)

The Carls, the high fives and the one in white not getting a high five!

Carl: Way to beat the odds, soldier!

*Carl in white lingering as Woody doesn’t give him the high five*

Bo: You have a little girl? *when Woody tells her about Bonnie* 

When Woody tells the story of Bo and her lamp in Molly’s room. Oh, Woody! My heart!

The twirl hug!

Forky: When’s Woody coming back? *soon Forky*

Gabby: It’s tea time! Forky: Woo hoo! What’s tea time?

Forky: *helping Gabby with her tea skills* Little higher, stick out your pinky. *teach me, Forky*

Forky’s hand on top of Gabby trying to comfort her, then derp.

Gabby puling Forky in her lap.

Forky: I’ve known Woody my whole life! 2 days!

Ducky: In a galaxy far far away!

Buzz: *putting his helmet on and Duckys foot getting stuck*

Bo and her arm and screaming with Woody as he accidentally yanks it off.

Woody trying to grab Bo when she uses the sticky hand.

The lovesick look on Woody’s face.

(The ship it truck. We all drive it)

Buzz: Good work, inner voice!

Bo: Buzz? *as Woody talks about who’s left in the gang*

Buzz: Moving buddies! Woody, it’s Bo Peep!

Buzz’s button getting spammed as they roll down the roof. (probably a callback to Toy Story 2 when Zurg repeatedly spams the other Buzz’s button. Rex: But Buzz is in peril! *B B B Buzz Lightyear to the rescue!)

Rex: The panic is attacking me!

Buttercup: We could frame dad for a crime and get him in jail!

Bonnie: Can we leave a note for Forky? *awww*

Jessie: *after busting the tire with a nail* If you get my point! (point! Probably from Toy Story 3)

Pixar ball from upper view when Bo and the gang get in the shop.

Bunny: Who will Bonnie love more? Say me.

Bunny: All six eyes looking in my soul. *as they wander around the store*

*Your Forky* *to Woody*

Buzz: We can handle a cat.

Bunny and Ducky: Is that how we look in the inside? So much.. Fluff.

Forky trying to brush Gabby’s hair with the wrong side of the brush.

Forky: Such lovely hair.

Woody holding the phone with that look on his face. *he’s frozen there as a lady looks around*

*scene from the trailer with Ducky and Bunny* Buzz: We’re not doing that!

*she goes home* Giggle: Where is this going!? (She’s in bed and.. *screaming*)

Buzz: How do we get that key?

Forky: Woody’s back!? (Forky’s so excited.)

Tin man! Remember him from the Pixar Shorts or the brief moment in Toy Story 2 when Ham is clicking through the channels really quickly?

The bisexual lighting in the room in the “club” (if you want to think of it that way.)

Duke Caboom: Billy, Goat, Gruff? They’re my girls! *Woody rolls his eyes*

Duke Caboom: That toy sounds like a complete idiot! *about Woody*

Duke Caboom: It’s a commercial! It’s not real!

Duke Caboom: Be who I am right now. (really profound)

Duke: Yes I Canada!

Woody: How did you get the key? *flashback to Buzz and the others as they get the key, where the old lady places the key right in front of them* Buzz: It was very difficult!

Woody: You can’t teach this old toy new tricks.

Woody: I saw your lamp in the window and I thought you might be inside.

All the lamps and chandeliers were pretty.

Forky giggling which leads to Woody finding him in the box.

Bo: Wait, it’s an actual fork? B B B B Bo?

Bunny: I’m too cute to die!

Woody holding Forky like a weapon.

*Forky crying for help* Woody!

Shh, it’s okay. *Duke to his bike*

Woody’s determination to get Forky.

Woody: Because it’s all I have left to do! I don’t have anything else. (that made me cry)

Woody: It’s called loyalty.

Ducky: You’re crazy. *to Woody after they fight*

Woody: I don’t leave toys behind. Buzz: And he left me behind

Buzz didn’t want Woody to go back in the store.

Woody using the red pencil as a weapon.

Woody: I’m not leaving without Forky.

Gabby: Being there for a child is the most noble thing a toy can do. Proudly watching him grow up. *about Bonnie to Woody* Helping her when she needs it most. All I want is a chance, for just one of those moments. I’d give anything to be loved the way you have. Woody: Just leave me Forky.

Buzz: Bonnie will realize her backpack’s missing. Bonnie: Nope!

Buzz:  *after spamming his button and is about to be put away* Your backpack’s in the antique store, let’s go! (Haha, wonderful!)

Bo: *about Woody’s determination/loyalty* You gotta love him for it. 

Bo to Bunny and Ducky: We’re going back. We just got here! 

(Woody’s voice box being removed! So significant to me!) 

Gabby: My little utensil. 

Forky: Goodbye Benson! He is terrifying! 

Forky being happy for Gabby as the moment between her and Harmony is about to happen.

Forky: No no, Woody look! It’s happening!  *after Gabby is thrown in the box* Forky: Oh, I’m gonna cry. 

Forky and Woody being sad when Gabby is rejected.

Forky: What is a merry go round? Woody: It’s the spinning ride with horses and lights. Forky: You mean a carousel?   

Woody taking his hat off in sympathy for Gabby.

Bo and Gabby having a sense of understanding despite once being enemies.

Forky upside down in Bonnie’s hand.

Forky: He said to meet us at the carousel! The spinning ride with lights and horses! Woody told me so! 

The baby carriage knocked over and Benson was inside. The lady who found him screamed, lol

The whole GPS thing. (Like driving the pizza planet truck from Toy Story 2!)

Duke smacking in the target face first.

The gang taking over the RV.’

The little girl who’s lost, poor thing. She was so cute.

*as Mrs. Potato Head and Trixie mess with the wires* Cop: Pull over! Bonnie’s Dad: I can’t, this is a rental!

Lost Girl: *to Gabby* Are you lost too? I’ll help you. Can you help us? *to the security guard*

The female security guards helping to get the family together.

The happiness of reuniting a girl with a toy.

Three police cars following the RV.

Bonnie asleep the whole time while the RV is controlled by the toys.

Buttercup: Dad’s totally going to jail! Forky spamming the lock button.

*the kiss could’ve happened with the Ferris wheel in the background! But I’ll take a hug*

The callback to the scene under the car in the box between Bo and Woody at this moment.

Buzz: *as Woody walks up to him sadly after leaving Bo* She’ll be okay. *pause* Bonnie will be okay. (BUZZ!! How he understands Woody is so admirable!)

Buzz: Listen to your inner voice.

My heart!! That final shot with the original gang..

Woody giving Jessie his badge.

Everyone hugging Woody and then Woody and Buzz hugging. And then Forky hugging Woody. It killed me inside. (I’m crying.)

The way Woody chases after Bo on top of the carousel.

Forky: Does this mean Woody’s a lost toy? Buzz: He’s not lost anymore. 

Buzz: To infinity.. Woody: And beyond. *last lines of the movie*

The end credits. (comes in four parts.) Bo and Woody rigging the ride so all the toys are won. Plush Rush. Heck yes.

Duke: Do you really have laser eyes? Bunny: Yeah. Duke: Woah.

Buzz: How was present and explain!? *to Jessie when she returns from 1st Grade with Bonnie* Hamm: You mean show and tell?

Forky falling in love with the knife at first sight. The whole thing with Jessie introducing Knifey to the gang was like the beginning of the movie with Woody and Forky.

Forky: Unique, beautiful toys. Knifey: How am I alive? Forky: I don’t know. 

(Combat Carl were voiced by an actual Carl.

And those are most of the moments that I personally liked in chronological order!

 I’ve noticed that a lot of people were more satisfied with Toy Story 3 as the conclusion to the movies, but I loved what this movie had to offer. 

I didn’t mind Buzz being the comic relief in the movie, nor did I mind Ducky and Bunny. I wasn’t looking forward to Ducky and Bunny entirely because of the trailers, but I enjoyed them. 

To me, there was the matter of Dolly treating Woody a bit differently when he tries to handle the toys and when he does sneak off in Bonnie’s backpack to kindergarten with Bonnie. She assumes the role of leader and is a tad bit annoying to me. But it was short-lived, so I’m okay. 

Another moment is when Bo gets upset with Woody after he screws up the mission. it was a minor setback, and I think she overreacted. Same with the fight as everyone leaves Woody behind to fend for himself as he goes back to the antique shop. But those were the only things, so overall, this movie is one of my favorites and I’d love to see it again! Go ahead and judge these moments for yourself. Maybe we’ll have different opinions and views but it’s okay. Everyone’s opinion is valid.

[stronglyobsessed]

Hartwin father/son Fathers Day - Eggsy and eggsy’s little one give Harry a grandpa present for Father’s Day

Okay! So this turned out A LOT longer than I thought! It is 2.5K and I hope you enjoy!!!

Thank you SO much for such a cute prompt!

*It’s long so located under*

Here is the link for it on AO3!

Manners Maketh Grandfather

“Daddy!” A small voice called beside his ear. Eggsy rolled toward the sound, one eye cracked open to see a crystal blue set staring at him. “Happy Father’s Day!” Caleb claimed happily.

Before Eggsy could properly thank his four year old, a homemade card with ‘Happy Father’s Day’ written in his wife’s beautiful cursive on the front was thrust into view. Although the little hearts, cupcakes, flowers and stick figure form of what could only be Eggsy and Caleb, were clearly his son’s work. Behind him Tilde stood holding a plate that contained a generous stack of pancakes, eggs and bacon. She was immaculate, of course, with her blonde hair tossed in a messy bun. A tired smile lit her face, as her other palm mindlessly rubbed her protruding stomach.

“Thank you!” Eggsy leaned over the side to collect his son, bringing him under the sheets to cuddle him close. Caleb went without complaint, as always, and instinctively curled against Eggsy’s chest. He made sure to take the construction paper card and place it on the nightstand; he’d look at it later, right now he wanted a snuggle.

Caleb stayed put for a whole five minutes before he scurried back out, taking Eggsy’s card with eager hands. “I made this for you, Daddy!”

Eggsy beamed happily at his boy, Tilde now moved to sit next to them while Eggsy sat propped against the headboard. Caleb clambered to rest between his legs, giving Eggsy his card to read.

“Mama helped me with the words.” But Eggsy could see where his son tried to write his name. “But I told her what to say!”

“You did,” Tilde confirmed. She reached out to brush blonde wayward strands from their son’s forehead. “And he even helped me make breakfast!”

“I love it!” Eggsy promised after he read it aloud and dropped a loving kiss to the crown of Caleb’s head. “And I can’t wait to eat what you’ve made! Helping Mama cook, you’re getting so big!” His heart hurt at the reality. Their first baby wasn’t such a baby, and next fall he’d start nursery school just as they’d welcome their daughter.

“How's my princess doing?” Eggsy reached forward to rub where his girl resided. There was a soft kick against his palm. “Hello my love, good morning, Daddy loves you,” he cooed, just as he always did every day.

“She’s right as rain, sitting on my bladder and using it as her personal trampoline.” Tilde covered his hand with hers. She gave a quick squeeze before letting go, and took the tray to place over Eggsy’s lap, which also covered Caleb’s. “Happy Father’s Day, darling.” She murmured, lips hovered his skin before she pressed a tender kiss to his forehead.

Eggsy tipped his face, a hand cradled her cheek to guide into a full, delicate kiss. “Thank you. I love you.”

“I love you too.” She promised with an elated grin as Caleb made a face.

“Stop kissing! Daddy has to eat now!” Both parents laughed.

Eggsy tucked in as his son instructed, his son assisted in the consumption of his pancakes. It was perfect, a little noisy as Caleb romped around the bed with JB, but one of the best Father’s Day. Although Eggsy found himself saying that each year since becoming a dad.

“Come my little love. Time for a wash up and proper clothes.” Tilde herded Caleb off the bed. “Remember we have to finish the surprise for Grandpa, yes?” She added, just as Caleb began to make his ‘I’m going to have a strop’ face.

Thankfully the mention of Grandpa had a smile on his face and rushing to toddle beside his mother. Eggsy watched with fond eyes as they left so he could get himself ready as well. He sent a quick text to confirm their meeting, of course he was reminded to be punctual. Which was fucking hilarious, because the man had little regard for punctuality in his career.

“Are we ready?” Eggsy held Caleb’s black peacoat for him to slip his little arms into. “You sure you’re okay here, babe?” He worried as Caleb plucked small feet into trainers identical to Eggsy’s. But today he wore a casual pair of dark grey trousers, a hunter green button down and a freshly shined pair of oxfords.

Caleb was dressed just as nicely, but refused to wear the oxfords his Grandpa had bought him. “Ready!” He proclaimed. “Mama, I can carry it!” Caleb made grabby hands for the box that contained what he and Tilde had made.

“I’m fine, Eggsy.” She assured him. “Don’t run with them, okay?” Tilde carefully placed it into Caleb’s waiting arms. “And be good for daddy, make sure to give Grandpa my love.” She lay a soft kiss to his hairline. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Mama! Bye!”

Eggsy placed a hand on the top of the eager one's head; Caleb ready to bolt out the door. “Hold it bud. Daddy has to say goodbye too!” He cupped Tilde’s face with his freehand, coaxing her in for a tender sweep of lips. “Take care of my girl.” He touched her tummy, where their daughter danced against his palm. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.” She promised, and they were off.

The drive to the Mews was short from the small home he lived in now. After Tilde renounced her title as Princess, and stepped away from the crown, they moved back to London. Eggsy continued to work for Kingsman, but on more local missions and the occasional overseas recon assignments. Nothing ever as risky as when he’d first become an agent. After the whole Golden Circle scare, and the loss of so many, they found the world a little less littered with insane, psychopathic villains...at least for now.

“We’re here!” Eggsy announced. Caleb cheered from his car seat, as if he didn’t have weekly visits here, or Sunday dinners at Grandpa’s. He collected his son, the homemade gifts and a box Eggsy had stowed away in the boot, and made their way to the door.

“I can press the button, Daddy?”

“Sure.” It was work to hold Caleb and juggle their offerings so that a tiny finger could press the doorbell. “Ah ah!” Eggsy cautioned when he started to push it again. “Let’s give him a minute, yeah?”

“Okay,” Caleb sighed mournfully. He’d end up spamming his grandfather with a string of chimes, if Eggsy allowed it.

He started to lose his grip on Caleb as he wiggled, getting restless that he couldn’t make the doorbell ring again, but just as Eggsy repositioned Caleb he heard precise footsteps approach the door. Caleb let out an ear shattering cheer when the door was opened, and Harry caught the small body that lunged toward his person.

“Caleb!” Eggsy hissed. “That is not polite!” But it appeared every ounce of manners, polite behavior and lessons to be a proper gentleman went out the window as Harry swung the boy onto a hip and hugged him.

Sometimes it was hard for Eggsy to separate Arthur and Harry at home. The man was a bit different since he’d ‘died’ and come back to life.

“Happy Father’s Day!” Caleb crowed. “We brought presents!”

Harry’s smile was soft, the softest Eggsy had ever seen it, and only for his son. “That was very generous of you, Caleb, but shouldn’t you be spending the day with your Daddy?” Eggsy kept Caleb’s presence a secret, but it looked like the older man enjoyed it quite a bit.

“Daddy’s here!” Caleb pointed out, with a face that could only be inherited from Eggsy.

“Yes, I am here. May I come in?” Eggsy grinned cheekily as Harry stepped aside, his arms filled with his boy, and the sight was something Eggsy would never tire of. “Happy Father’s Day.” He was finally able to wish Harry, giving him a half hug because Caleb dominated the other side, and pressed a loving kiss to Harry’s weathered cheek.

“Thank you, Eggsy.” He could hear the emotion stuck in Harry’s throat, as his remaining eye watered a bit. “Now.” Harry turned back to Caleb. Much like every time Caleb was in Harry’s presence, Eggsy took a back seat, and it’d been that way since the day his son was born; he didn’t mind a whit. “Shall we have tea, young man?”

“And open presents?!” Both men laughed at his excitement.

“We can.” Harry threaded fingers through Caleb’s blond strands. “Come. I have a full set in the sitting room. I think I even have a few biscuits for you.”

Eggsy wanted to argue that it wasn’t even lunchtime, but the words died on his lips when Caleb tightened small arms around Harry’s neck and a loud, wet kiss was slammed against his cheek. He wouldn’t deny his child, or the man he considered a father for over ten years, the simple joys that they seemed to bring one another.

They settled in, cuppas poured, and Eggsy sat watching two of his favorite men talk adamantly to one another. Though the conversation was led primarily by Caleb, who told Grandpa all of the neat things he’d done at home with his mother, and the mention of Tilde resulted in a thoughtful gaze from Harry.

“She’s good.” Eggsy reassured. “Trudging along with our little lady growing. Both are healthy and safe.” He was bloody excited for their daughter to be born.

“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Please pass on my love and well wishes to both ladies.”

“I will.”

That was about all Eggsy was able to get in before his son monopolized Harry’s time. Though it didn’t seem like the man minded at all. He never pegged Harry to be a kid person, but as soon as Caleb entered the world, Harry was determined to be the best pseudo grandfather. Eggsy and Tilde had formally asked him to be when he visited hospital, and Eggsy wouldn’t speak to a soul that Harry had wept a little.

“Caleb,” Eggsy said after an hour. “I know you really like talking to Grandpa, but how about we let him open what we brought?” The reminder caused his boy to hop up, darting off of the sofa and collected all that his small hands could hold.

“For you!” Caleb shoved them in Harry’s lap, and crawled to sit beside Harry once more. “I made mine. Daddy didn’t!”

Harry bit his lip, an amused glint in his eye. “Well, I’m sure your Daddy put a lot of thought into it as well, hm?” Caleb nodded enthusiastically. “This is a charming card. You made it all by yourself?” Harry held a piece of construction paper similar to Eggsy’s.

“Yep! Mama helped with the words!”

“Well done,” he praised Caleb. And much like his father the boy preened, always willing to receive compliments and praise for his work. “Now what have we in the box?” Harry waited with all the patience any grandparent would have, as Caleb grabbed said blue, white striped box and handed it to Harry. “Is this your handy work as well?” Harry wondered as he opened the top.

“Yeah! But Mama used the oven. I can’t.” Caleb sounded displeased by that. “I mixed and helped pour the batter in. Then we frosted them!”

Inside were a dozen chocolate raspberry cupcakes; Harry’s absolute favorites. Leave it to Tilde to ensure Harry got precisely what he enjoyed, instead of the vanilla and buttercream frosted ones Caleb would have suggested.

“Now isn’t this a treat.” There was clear restraint in Harry’s brown eye as he stared at the sweets. “I will be sure to have one after supper.” He nodded, closing the lid and set them aside like he wouldn’t dig right into them once they left.

“Do you like them?” Just as the question was spoken, Harry scooped Caleb into his lap to give a big, full armed hug.

“I love them so much. Thank you, Caleb.” Harry dropped a soft kiss to Caleb’s head.

“Good!” Caleb crowed, wrapping his little arms around Harry, or as near as he could. “Daddy.” He turned to Eggsy. “You have to give Grandpa your presents now.” Eggsy nodded as he collected the long, thin box he had beside him.

It was wrapped in shiny silver paper with an equally shiny blue bow on top.

“Here you are.” Eggsy handed it over with a soft smile. He had a lot more patience than his son when it came to gratitude and praise for gifts. And he supposed that had to do with being thirty five, though Harry would argue the patience wasn’t extended to work; he was right.

“Oh, Eggsy,” Harry breathed. A hand swept over the polished wood handle of the rainmaker, as the other curved to cradle the taffeta canopy and lifted it out. “This is gorgeous.” The awe in Harry’s voice was well deserved. It was the newest model Kingsman had to offer.

“Comes with all the bells and whistles.” Eggsy promised, even as his son scrunched his nose; clearly unimpressed with something so mundane. “There’s a message engraved, too.”

Harry smiled tenderly as he turned it to read the inscription. “Manners Maketh Man.” He gave a whispered chuckle. “Thank you.” Eggsy heard the emotion beneath two simple words.

He marveled at it for a moment longer before Harry stood to wrap Eggsy in a warm, tight embrace. Eggsy returned the affection in kind, tipping his face to give a delicate kiss against Harry’s wet cheek; a few tears slipped despite his saying so.

Harry cleared his throat, swiping at his face to get rid of the moisture. “This has been lovely. You both have outdone yourselves.”

This time, both Caleb and Eggsy gave identical sheepish grins. After the paper and rubbish was cleared away, they enjoyed another cuppa and helped Harry tidy up. Just as Eggsy loaded the last plate into the dishwasher, his phone pinged with a text from Tilde.

“Hey.” Eggsy got Harry’s attention. He gestured to the front door and said, “You feel like joining us for dinner? Tild is making Beef Wellington.” Harry’s eye lit up. “We would have plenty,” Eggsy promised before Harry could ask.

“Yeah! You have to come, Grandpa!” Caleb already bombarded Harry before he could even speak a word. “And you can tell me a story before bed.” He shifted pleading blue eyes toward Eggsy. “Right, Daddy?”

“Of course! Grandpa is more than welcome to take over tuck in time. If he’d like.”

Harry scoffed, clearly offended there was even a question. “I really don’t want to be trouble. It is Father’s Day, and you should spend it with your family.” It was Eggsy’s turn to feel insulted.

“Dad,” Eggsy murmured, a name he used on and off in the recent years. The way Harry’s breath caught tugged at Eggsy’s heart; Harry was not used to hearing it still. Eggsy took Harry’s hand and held it. “You are family, and we’d be honored if you came.”

It only took a second for Harry to compose himself, evident that Eggsy’s declaration of his spot in the family caught him off guard, but it turned out in the best possible way.

“I’ll get my coat.”

Eggsy’s ears were filled with Caleb’s cheering and the quiet sound of Harry sniffling as he donned his jacket.

As Eggsy thought earlier, it was the best Father’s Day ever.

[babyloontrash]

Craving (L.H.)

Summary: Luke and his gf have someone fun on an empty parking lot.

Warning: Smut, clearly. Nothing kinky tho.

Words: 3k+

“Here. Take my hand, so I don’t lose you in the crowd.“

For a second, you were somewhat startled when you felt someone breath out near your ear. You were still smiling brightly from ear to ear, your mind in this lovely, happy and dazed state one finds themselves after seeing an amazing show. If it wasn’t for this, you would recognize your boyfriend’s voice without any problems. You knew it well enough.

But here, in the crowded venue that still had some music playing in the background while all the excited people started to leave, it took you a moment.

When you turned your head to the side to look at him, Luke smiled right back at you and before you said anything, he already laced your fingers together, giving your hand a gentle, loving squeeze.

This hallway was the last place fitted for a conversation right now, and he started to push his way through the crowd while keeping you close.

“Haven’t we agreed that you are going to wait for me by the entrance?“ You leaned towards his ear and asked him. “So you would get our jackets?“

You had agreed on that about three songs before the show ended, just when you realized how badly the drinks you had made you want to pee. There could be no doubts that the line for the bathroom would be awfully long, but there simply wasn’t a way that you could wait until you get home. Luke had rolled his eyes dramatically. He wanted to get out of here as soon as possible and not get stuck on the road, but you gave him no choice. While you would be in the bathroom, he could pick up your jackets.

At least, so you wouldn’t waste any more time waiting there.

He didn’t answer and simply lifted his other hand slightly for you to see that he already got them. This way, you could just continue to the exit without making any other stop.

The air was cold when you got outside. It would take less than a few minutes to reach Luke's car but, he still let go of your hand and handed you your jacket, so you could put it on. He had no interest in getting you sick.

“Did you see how crazy it was by the door? We would just miss each other if I waited there,“ he finally explained and once you had wrapped the jacket around your shoulders, he set his arm around you as well.

Once he was holding you, there was nothing stopping him from pulling you close and pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. “I am glad you had fun.“

The tickets for tonight’s show were his. He got them; you didn’t even know from whom, and he was excited to come here, even though he has already seen them live plenty of times. Since you were a fan too, it made sense to take you with him, and you had tonight written down in your calendar for weeks, ensuring that you wouldn’t forget. The two of you would have such a lovely time together. You honestly couldn’t wait.

Only then, the fight with your best friend happened, just a few hours prior before you and Luke would meet. How the hell were you supposed to enjoy the show, sing at the top of your lungs and jump around until you would be out of breath when the weight of the argument was still heavy on your shoulders?

It would be better if he just went with one of his friends. You would just be bringing him down. Luke had none of that though, shaking his head resolutely at your absurd suggestions on whom he should try to call that could be free tonight.

The fight was more of a reason to go, in his opinion. The show would make your brain turn off for a while. You could only benefit from it. Laying on the couch and watching shitty reality TV would only just make you feel worse.

When he said those things to you earlier, you watched him with a rather sceptical gaze. And when you changed from your sweats while telling him that if you’re going to ruin tonight for him, he only has himself to blame.

Now, you had to admit that he was right. And since that didn’t happen very often, it seemed like a good idea to let him know. Let him enjoy this rare situation, at least for a little bit. “I had a lot of fun,“ you corrected him with a smile and brought one of your hands up to his stubbled cheek, so you could give it a stroke.

“It really helped, thank you for taking me with you.“

“Always,“ he promised and unlocked the car.

He lifted his hand up in an apologizing gesture as he got in front of a car that was just about to pull out, but soon you were both safely at your own seats.

 “There is one thing that’s making me quite upset, though.“ Your voice broke the silence between you that was filled with only just the sound of the running engine.

“What?“ Luke asked, his eyebrows furrowing together. He kept a careful eye on you the whole night. You seemed to be enjoying yourself. He couldn’t think of anything that had gone wrong. Have you gotten a message that upset you? You had a phone in your hand right now, it was the only option he could think of. And if that was the case, he would just reach over and grab it from you because that shit could definitely wait until tomorrow. It was way too late to be worrying yourself about anything like that.

Before he got to actually do that though, the song Fourth of July started playing and you turned your face to properly look at him.

 “How dare they not to play this song live?“

“You have their number. Text them and let them know what an awful mistake they are doing.“

“Will do.“

He was not serious about that. In all honesty, he was pretty sure that Pete had actually blocked all their numbers after they had spammed him with plenty of drunken messages one night.

He was serious about saying that he would make it u to you though, and he didn’t make a single complaint when you played the song on repeat for the next ten minutes or so, obediently singing along to it with you.

“How many more times are you planning on to play it?“ He asked innocently after a moment when you pressed the play button AGAIN.

“Depends on how long it is going to take us to get home.“

He chuckled, carefully keeping his eyes on the road.

“Wait, are you serious?“ Luke briefly glanced in your direction just to see you nod.

“Deadly.“

“That’s what I am craving right now.Sorry, honey.“

That was the first time during the whole day when a desperate groan left his mouth. He liked the song, but you can only listen to it a certain number of times before it gets annoying.

“Can’t you crave anything else?“ He asked jokingly. “An ice cream or a burger… We’ll be driving past McDonald's in-“

“Okay. Maybe there is something else I crave, too,“ you smiled.

If he could look at you, he would see the mischief which had appeared on your face. With the driver in front of you acting like an absolute idiot, however, he couldn’t and only felt your hand stroke over his thigh.

"Really? What is it?"He asked automatically while he took the turn to the left, which made you shift in your seat slightly."If it's for the waffles, I am not sure if they are open this long, not even at the weekend," Luke shook his head. "Check their website."

You didn't listen to his instructions because this was not what you had in mind at all.

Instead of reaching for your phone, you moved your hand up his thigh and gave it a little squeeze.

 He shot you a little smile but other than that you got no reaction from him whatsoever.

With your thumb rubbing small circles on the fabric of his jeans, you examined his expression carefully, waiting to see when it would click.

You could move your hand higher, commenting on how good he looked tonight, all you wanted but Luke seemed to be absolutely clueless to all of those signs.

It was almost like on the first date you had gone too, little over a year ago. You had had a great time together, and you knew for sure that you wanted date number two happen soon. He seemed to be on the same boat. But when his car pulled over near your house and you were dropping all the possible hints that you would like to kiss him, he simply just said bye and put his hands into his pockets. Turning around to leave to his car again.

You had to physically stop him, grab his hand and ask him to wait so you would be able to get closer to him and let your lips meet.

Luke was not a dumb guy, but it was better to be as straight forward with him as possible, to make sure there would be no misunderstandings.

It wasn't really hard to get used to this and honestly, keeping this in mind made a lot of things whole lotta easier.

You let him know that those waffles were not what you were craving either. No matter how delicious they were, and you made a mental note to go there for a breakfast tomorrow. Before he could open his mouth and ask about what it was then, you moved your hand up to his crotch. After this, even he was pretty sure what this meant.

"OH," He breathed out and nodded his head for a bit while his eyes blinked a bit faster than usual. "Okay...We're gonna be home soon," he promised.

The ride home would take for at least fifteen minutes. That usually didn't seem like a very long time. Right now even five stupid minutes would feel like fucking ages.

"Or you can just stop the car over there?" You suggested and nodded towards this store selling something that seemed like all sorts of garden equipment. It clearly had a nice empty parking lot in the back. A little stop there surely wouldn't hurt anyone.

He sent you a look with his brows raised up, asking you if you were being serious without actually having to ask anything.

The zipper on his jeans came apart, and you unfastened the button as well.

Here was his answer and Luke slowly nodded his head.

His Adam's apple moved prominently up and down as he swallowed thickly while your hand already palmed his cock through the thin boxers.

You smiled slightly when you watched him part his pretty lips, sucking in some breath.

By the time you let the busy road far behind you and the car was parked, his breathing had already sped up. You could see how his chest was rising and falling heavily.

He tried to keep himself as composed as possible while he was driving but now he could finally let the quiet groan escape his mouth.

Your hand wrapped around his cock, rubbing it softly up and down to make him ready for you. It felt simply incredible, and a few drops of pre-cum got out as the excitement built up.

"We should go to the backseat," he managed to stammer out, only to throw his head back and groan out when you leaned your head forward.

Your tongue teasingly licked over the tip and you could feel how his thighs tensed up.

"Wait a sec," Luke suddenly stopped you.

It really was a matter of just a few seconds as he adjusted his seat a little bit, so you wouldn't hit your head against the steering wheel. This small caring gesture made you want to smile again. You didn't bother yourself with pulling away to look at him, though.

Instead, you slowly closed your lips around him, and your tongue caressed the sensitive tip of his dick.

Luke moaned out and his hand made its way to your head, brushing your hair lovingly, away from your face so it wouldn't be in the way.

"Fuck, baby." His voice was quiet, barely audible. It always was. It contrasted nicely with how he sounded when the pleasure was so unbearable that he couldn't hold it anymore and his orgasm came.

You still had to wait for those sounds, and you decided to waste no time.

More of him disappeared inside your mouth, and he let out a curse as your cheeks hollowed.

He watched you move your head up and down, the pace at which you were going slowly picking up as the time went.

Luke could swear that the way in which your tongue swirled around him could make him go crazy.

That combined with how your hands stroked the part of his cock that you didn't take into your mouth, the tips of your fingers brushing over his balls every once simply felt like heaven.

He gripped on the edge of his seat with one of his hands, his knuckles almost white. His head was leaning back, and he closed his eyes as the pleasure almost became too much for him to handle.

If anyone was to interrupt you two right now, you wouldn't even notice. You were both lost in the moment.

"Stop," Luke requested suddenly, making you look up at him while the tip of his cock still rested against your bottom lip.

"Get on the backseats." He nodded his head slightly towards the space that was behind you. It would be way more comfortable to take things there for both you.

After all, you were not dating exactly a small guy.

You let out a gentle hum in an agreement and sat up straight again. Before you started climbing over there, you kissed his lips sweetly. It was only a chaste peck, and it made Luke chuckle. With how you looked just a few seconds ago with his cock still in your lovely mouth, this peck, that's often being exchanged by innocent kids at a playground simply seemed hilarious to him.

His face scrunched up slightly when you nudged him on your way to the back seats, but he paid no attention to your apologies.

Unfortunately, being the size he was made it impossible for him to go the same way. He bit his lip slightly when he trapped his hard-on in his underwear again before he finally left the driver's seat and then soon joined you in the back.

You were already tugging down your jeans, and your underwear followed right after that.

Luke pulled you closer to him as soon as he sat down. It was about time that he got a /proper/ kiss, tongue and all.

You tugged on his hair a little bit at that. Ready to melt just there when he grazed his teeth over your bottom lip while pulling away.

Tugging on your hand, Luke made you climb up on his lap but didn't let you sink down onto his cock just yet. He smiled at you in this way that made your heart flutter a bit. While you were too enchanted by how beautiful your boyfriend looked in the moonlight, he sneaked his free hand between your thighs.

He kept his eyes on your face, gently spreading your wetness with his fingers. Then he rubbed your clit for a moment to get you as hot and bothered as he was. He didn't even try to hide the smug smile that appeared on his face when you whimpered for a little bit. You leaned in to kiss that expression away.

Once he moved his free hand to cup your face while you were making out, you brought your hand in between you two and lined up his cock with your entrance.

Luke let out a low moan when you suddenly brought yourself down onto him. Your soft, warm walls surrounded his cock now, but he continued to kiss you. The excitement and love he was feeling were indescribable. He never wanted for this to stop.

But as you started riding him, he knew that it would have to, eventually. Much to his dislike, it would be way sooner than he would prefer too.

The pace you went with was unhurried and steady at first. Your hand on the side of his neck, thumb rubbing small circles on his skin while the other hand held on the headrest of the seat for support.

Then the burning passion that ran through your veins ever since you made him stop the car took over.

Both of your moans now sounded through the car, Luke's voice was way more prominent than it had been before.

Your hips crashed into each other in frantic desperation.

Luke was thrusting towards you as well and his eager hands were gripping on your ass tightly, he needed to feel as much of you as possible right now.

When he let out this raspy groan, calling you his baby, you knew he would cum soon and you weren't wrong.

He helped you reach your own high immediately after, his fingers quickly rubbing your clit in a circular motion.

You shivered when he began lifting your shirt up and you gave him a curious look. He didn't say anything but pushed your bra aside enough, so he could get his generous mouth to your nipple.

His tongue flicked around the bud while his fingers continued working your clit. It was a good thing he had his muscled arm wrapped around you. You could definitely do with something steady to keep you in place. Your knees turned into jelly and the moans you had been letting out changed into just a set of shaky breaths.

"You know what?" You said eventually, your forehead still presses against his shoulder.

"What?" The stroking on your back stopped since he moved his hand to make you look up at him.

"McDonald's actually sounds like a pretty good idea."

[bubble-tea-bunny]

the missus

[august walker x reader]

author’s note: yay finally wrote for august! def down to write some more, i have one other idea i’m still playing around w. it’s fun writing secret agent stuff haha

word count: 10,280

I.

This morning, the sun is out and shining, no clouds are in sight, and the turbulence forecast reads nothing but smooth skies. In other words: it’s a good day to fly.

The forest green duffel sits at the foot of the bed, unzipped and flap pulled back to allow for the last few items to be placed inside. Packing for a short work trip is routine in this household, and done with a practiced precision. It’s with utmost care that you roll the neckties before setting them inside the bag. August always lets you choose which ones he should wear while away. You keep me looking sharp he’d remarked once while reviewing your selection of ties for a previous business excursion. People do say the Walkers are always so well-dressed, and August has no problem admitting that it’s owed to you. He says you’d look right at home in the fashion industry, but you just laugh it off. Maybe in another life.

August emerges from the bathroom with his hair already styled. His clothes are laid out on the bed for him to put on, and he does just that, untucking the towel around his waist and tossing it to the side. (You can’t help sneaking a glance at him when he does, and he catches you. He just smirks and carries on with his current task. There’s no time to get sidetracked.)

“I can’t believe you’re leaving again so soon,” you state, breaking the silence. “It feels like you just got home.”

August sighs, shrugging on his button-up. “You know how she is. All work and no play. There’s things that need doing.”

“Maybe I should have a talk with her about giving you a break…”

“Honey.” The tone isn’t harsh. Gentle, rather, with a hint of warning. You look up shyly to find him raising a brow. You know know it’s hardly a good idea to bring something up like that to someone as austere as Sloane. The most you’d get in return is a laugh. Sometimes you wonder if she knows what the word “vacation” even means. Everyone is on call every hour of the day.

“I know, but can you blame me? I just want to spend time with you.”

August smiles as he grabs his tie and walks over, holding it out to you. He knows how to tie one, but he likes when you do it because he gets to look at you and be close. “Well how about when I’m back, we go on a little getaway? I’ll see if I can convince Sloane to give a me a few days off.”

You think about this proposition as you slip the tie around his neck and tie it with deft fingers. And you can’t help the little grin that forms on your lips. “Really?”

August hums. He sets his hands on your waist to keep you near as you work, his thumb stroking back and forth. When you slide the knot up until the tie fits snugly, you trail a hand down to grab the tail and lightly pull him down to you. He gives you what you want gladly, one hand leaving your waist to tangle in your hair so he can angle your head appropriately and kiss you better. Your arms wrap around his neck but your fingers don’t go to mess with the hair at the nape, and part of him wishes you would because he loves the way it feels. However, he understands his meticulously styled hair can’t be ruined now. And if you did that, you’d both get too carried away, and then he would be late. It's happened before, and Sloane was not a happy woman. She said he’s lucky he has the skillset he does, or someone else would be getting these jobs (“I don’t like my time to be wasted.”) He didn’t doubt she was telling the truth.

But you, on the other hand, are not going anywhere (in fact, you’re still in your pajamas, which consists of lace panties and one of his powder-blue button-ups). So he curls his fingers in your soft locks and tug just a little, and you moan quietly. It causes a heat to ignite in his belly, and that’s when he forces himself to pull away. If he hears anymore, he’ll definitely get sidetracked.

You pant quietly, the tip of your finger lightly running up and down the back of his neck. Goosebumps break out on his skin from the ghost-like touch, and his arms feel comfortable around you. For a few moments it’s just you two and the warmth of the sun pouring in through the window and given there are no clocks in the room, one might think time wasn’t moving at all.

“I hate when you have to leave,” you murmur.

“Me too,” August responds.

It’s silent again, both of you content to stay where you are, but then you sigh heavily and back up out of his grip (he’s reluctant to let go, but he knows he needs to get a move on). His hands fall back to his sides. “Come on,” you state. He’s not sure if you’re saying that to him or to yourself (or maybe both). “Your ride will be here soon.”

August grabs his watch and wallet from the top of the dresser and slips on his shoes as you zip up the duffel. There’s a manila folder sitting next to it, which you know contains his mission briefing. In the past, curiosity would bite at you to peek inside and see what was in it, and you’d had to force yourself away from the idea. What’s in there is not your place to read. However, these days you no longer feel any sort of temptation to steal a glance. Maybe it comes with having been through this so many times before. While you worry for him every time he’s away, you think if you found out the details of the operation that your concern would only increase, knowing for certain what he was going into. But August always comes back safe. He knows what he’s doing.

A hand gently touches the small of your back and you turn your head to find August behind you. You smile and stand to the side to give him space to grab his bag, which he slings over his shoulder, and then he swipes up the folder. Out in the living room, you push aside the curtain and sigh quietly when you see a car parked right on the curb. This is it. Another few days in an empty house.  

“Car here?” August inquires, as you let the curtain fall back into place.  You nod, and he can see well enough in your eyes that you already miss him even though he hasn’t left yet. The grin he gives you is equal parts fond and sad. For as often as mornings like these occur, he doubts either of you will ever grow used to this part. He extends his free hand, beckoning you closer, and you step into his embrace without having to be told twice. His arm curls around your shoulders and he kisses your head, nuzzling your hair and smelling lavender, smelling home. “I’ll be back before you know it.”

“Be safe,” you tell him.

“I will. I promise.”

You stand in the open doorway, watching until the car turns the corner and the street is quiet again.

One way you keep yourself busy while home alone is cleaning the house. But given that it hadn’t been long since August’s last job, everything is still spotless. You tidy up the bedroom and the ensuite bathroom and wipe down the counters in the kitchen. You sweep the floors and when you fluff the pillows in the lounge despite the fact they’re still positioned perfectly from when you’d arranged them a few days prior, that’s when you come to the conclusion that there truly is nothing else left to clean. The Walker household is pristine.

You never really like how quiet the house is when it’s just you here. You’ve always been light-footed so even your footsteps do nothing to alleviate the silence as you pad through the hallway. In the morning your company is the gurgling of the coffee machine and the birds. In the afternoon it’s the mailman as he comes by and slips your mail for the day into the mailbox (mostly spam mail and bills). You always know he’s there because the mailbox lid creaks. He’s come between 12:30 and 12:35 each day so far—a punctual and well-maintained schedule. In the evenings, the clacking of the keyboard is what fills the air as you work, sifting through mail of the electronic sort and downloading attachments from messages and sending attachments of your own.

All the while August is in the back of your mind. You hope he’s staying safe and you think about how much you’re looking forward to him coming home, and it makes you smile as you delete some older e-mails. Parting from one another is difficult, but it makes the reunion that much better. It helps the days pass just a little faster too.

He never calls when he’s on a mission, but you understand. He’s busy, and not to mention calling someone so close to him is a liability. If anyone were to overhear or learn of your existence while he was in the field, you’d be in danger. You don’t even know where in the world he is, and you’re left wondering if the sun is rising for him or if he’s staring at the moon just like you are, when the light of the laptop screen is burning your retinas and you have to look away to give your eyes a break.

On the fourth night, the vibration of your work phone stops you short. Your brows furrow as you look at it where it rests next to your regular phone, and you reach out a hand to grab it, the other still positioned over the keyboard. It hasn’t rung in a while, and you know when it does, it’s important. The name on the caller ID is the only one saved to this phone, and you waste no more time in answering. She hates waiting.

You greet her simply and succinctly. “Hello?”

“You’re needed.” Her voice is ironclad as she gets right to the point, and you can imagine the steely expression on her face.

You take a deep breath and sit back, the hand you’d had on the keyboard slipping and dropping into your lap. The response is automatic. “Yes, ma’am.”

———

II.

Five hours later, you’re en route to your destination, a manila folder open on your lap. You flip through the dossier, scanning and processing the information expertly. You’ll need to be well acquainted with all of this by the time the plane touches down. Most pictures of the mark are from the most recent function he’d attended, and where he’d become a topic of interest to your employer.

Seen in discussion with foreign diplomats… Security liability… You pinpoint the key phrases, a small frown on your face as you take it all in. He’s a scientist with knowledge of some valuable tech. The kind that can be weaponized. The files state this is why he’s been in talks with so many dignitaries—he’s interested in selling that information to the highest bidder. Your boss isn’t taking kindly to that. She wants the information and she wants him brought in for interrogation. There are bold red words at the bottom of the mark’s profile that read Do not kill.

The original game plan for the mission entailed stealing the blueprints before capturing him, since he wouldn’t willingly give them up in custody, not without a good bit of convincing. It would just be faster this way. But sometimes these things don’t go over so smoothly…

“August requires assistance,” Sloane explains.

“Is he okay?” you ask. You’re good about being professional, but you can’t help the twinge of worry that bubbles in your stomach when she mentions him. Maybe she’s annoyed at the question or maybe she’s not, but all you care about is that she answers it.

“He is.” You let out a silent, relieved sigh when she says this. “It seems this operation needs a steadier hand than previously thought, and he asked specifically for you to be brought in.”

“How soon can you put me on a plane?”

“How soon can you be ready?”

You wouldn’t ever admit it out loud, but you found August’s methods to be brutish. He was only stealthy up to a certain extent and much preferred to go in guns blazing. The total opposite of the way you work. As such, you cross your fingers that there’s no need for damage control once you arrive (though four days is plenty of time for damage to be done). It’s a little counterintuitive to be sending the scalpel after the hammer but you don’t dwell on it too long. The point is you do as instructed and you work around the obstacles. You wouldn’t be in this kind of position if you weren’t adaptive.

You’re flattered that August would suggest you in particular. He didn’t need just anyone’s help; he needed yours. Sloane might’ve suspected bias but even she knows it’s more than that. You’re good at what you do and August trusts that you’ll get the job done. You’re pretty certain that even if he hadn’t said your name, Sloane would’ve sent you over anyway. August is already one of her top agents, and if he can’t finish an operation alone, she’ll only pick those of similar caliber to head in and help.

There’s a thick blanket of clouds and the plane rocks slightly as it descends, the wind catching beneath the wings. You close the folder and glance out the window. When the haze of clouds fades as the plane clears it, you see the bright lights of a bustling city down below. August is there somewhere, and you smile a little to yourself. You’re excited to see him again, even if it’s not under the circumstances you’d been expecting. This would be a premature reunion, but a nice one all the same.

A black car with tinted windows waits for you on the tarmac. You carry your roller luggage down the stairs they’ve set up next to the plane door, and the chauffeur takes it from you to place in the trunk. The pilot is standing at the base of the stairs. You don’t know him personally, but you know he’s one of Sloane’s. He nods, as if to say Good luck, and you nod back before getting in the car.

For the purposes of this mission, all communication with your husband will be through your work phone. When on the job, you’re not husband and wife. You’re two operatives out on the field. You’re professional before everything else. You grab said phone from your handbag to find that he’s already texted you: I’ll meet you in the lobby.  

Your accommodation is a swanky five-star hotel. There are steps leading up to the front doors which slide back to let you through, and you take a look around at the expansive lobby. A large chandelier hangs down in the center and your boots echo off the perfectly polished flooring. You scan the room in search of August and find him on one of the couches, flipping through a magazine.

“Hey, stranger,” you greet as you walk up to him.  

August looks up and he smiles so warmly that you quickly forget the chill of the outside. It’s contagious, and you smile too as he stands and approaches, arms wrapping around you. Your hand leaves the handle of your luggage as you hug him close, eyes sliding closed as you take him in. It’s the same every time you see him. You need a moment to remind yourself that he’s safe. Well, that he’s home and he’s safe, but one of those things isn’t really possible currently, considering now you’re both hours away from home. But you’ll take what you can get.

“I missed you,” August says as he pulls back and looks down at you. “Would’ve been home sooner if not for some… road blocks.”

You nod once. “Sloane talked about that. What’s wrong?”

He purses his lips. “I’ll tell you in the room.”

It’s only the two of you in the elevator and you lean back against the railing, watching the numbers light up as they count off each floor. August is staring at your reflection in the elevator doors. They’re hardly perfect mirrors, your form distorted and barely discernible, but it’s you. And he grins slightly as his gaze slides from the blurred images on the doors over to you, where you don’t seem to have noticed his staring. You tap a finger on the railing, the metal clanging quietly. There’s no music playing in here (thank goodness).

“Thanks for thinking of me,” you state finally, looking at him. If you’ve realized he’d already been watching you, you don’t bring it up, simply smiling lopsidedly at him. It makes him want to kiss you. “I mean, we both know Sloane would’ve sent me in anyway, but you know what I mean.”

August laughs. It’s true, and he loves that you’re so confident about it. The two of you aren’t afraid to talk big about your skills and it’s because you can back it up. You can prove yourselves. And you have, many times. “I guess I just did it because I like saying your name; wanted another reason to do it.”

You raise a brow but can’t help laughing at his coy smile. “Such a smooth talker.”

“’s why you fell in love with me, isn’t it?”

The elevator dings, signaling your arrival on the appropriate floor. The doors slide apart and you step out first, August following close behind and pulling along your luggage. You glance back at him. “Yeah, you’re right.”

Room 915 is at the end of the hallway. As August digs the keycard out from his pocket, you look down the length you’ve just walked. You’d always found it creepy how every corridor in a hotel looked identical. It’s so easy to get lost. Add some flickering lights and you have yourself a horror movie.

Fatigue seems to catch up to you all at once when you spot the bed. You walk over to it and plop down on the edge, toeing off your shoes. You want nothing more than to shower and go to sleep, but there’s business to take care of. August sets your bag down by his duffel and turns around to face you.

“So,” you begin, “tell me about the road blocks.”

August crosses his arms and sighs. “The mission was to steal blueprints off our mark Lombardi, but…”

“But…?” You tilt your head, beckoning for him to continue.

“There are no blueprints. Not physical ones at least.”

You’re quiet for a second as you try to understand what this means. “You’re not saying…”

August hums in confirmation, setting a finger on his temple and tapping twice. “The schematics are all in his head.”

“Wow,” you breathe out. “That’s genius.” You had to hand it to the man. Plans for weaponized tech are difficult enough to get onto paper with how complex they are, much less retain it in one’s brain for long periods of time. You can understand why he did it. There’s no rocket science behind that. Making physical schematics puts it at risk of ending up in the wrong hands—in his case, the hands of people who haven’t paid the demanded sum. But just because you understand the reason doesn’t mean you like this mode of thinking. The notion had been just a little too crazy for anyone to predict at the onset of this operation, hence the changes that have had to be made last minute (that is to say, your presence for this opertion).

“Too genius,” August responds. “And that’s why I needed you here.” He rifles through the papers on the table in the corner and pulls out an invitation. You gently take it from him when he offers it and you read over the information: a charity event, scheduled for tomorrow night. “You’re gonna have to talk to him, get it out of him somehow. You have a better track record with things like this. I could’ve tried myself but there was no guarantee, and this party is our only shot. If he finds out about what we’re trying to do, he might sell the information immediately.”

It’s been a while since you’ve had a mission like this. Lately, they’ve just been your run of the mill work-in-the-shadows-and-steal-the-intel type jobs. You can’t say you mind these though. You have fun dressing up and pretending to be someone else. It’s like a masquerade but without the masks and you’re the only one who’s treating the fete as if it were a masquerade, trying to hide your identity. (So… technically it’s not like a masquerade at all, but you don’t care about the details anyway.) You set the invitation down on the bed next to you and look over at your husband where he’s leaning against the table.

“But I don’t have a dress.”

“I already got one for you. I’m picking it up tomorrow, along with my suit.” You open your mouth, and he knows you’re about to complain that you didn’t get to pick it yourself (that’s your favorite part), but he didn’t have a choice, and he tells you as much. “I’m sorry, but I had to let them know today if I wanted them to be ready in time for the party.”

You sigh, and he stays quiet, waiting patiently for what you have to say. “Is it a nice dress?” you inquire quietly.

August chuckles and nods. “I think it’s perfect.”

That seems to satisfy you. “Well then, I can’t wait to see it.”

The next morning, you and August eat breakfast at a café near the hotel upon the recommendation of the receptionist. You take a corner booth, and the first topic of the meal is what you’d been up to the past four days. Same old, same old you state with a shrug. This time it was two days before I got bored. It’s quite the record. More often than not, you’re bored and itching to fill the silence of the house by the first evening. Going out to the farmer’s market or running other errands does well enough at keeping you occupied and the boredom at bay, but the truth is none of it feels the same without your husband around.

But then the conversation shifts to more serious matters, and you lower your voices out of habit. August had caught you up last night on what he’d been up to so far—tailing the mark, attempting to steal the schematics (and failing when he realized there was no actual copy to be taken), getting hold of a couple of invitations for the charity event. Today you’re focused on the goings-on of later tonight.

You bite off a piece of toast and chew thoughtfully as you gaze out the window, watching the tree branches sway in the breeze. “What names did you put down on the invites list?”

“Garrett Redfield and Ziva Prescott.”

“Can you change it to Ziva Redfield?”

August raises a brow. “I can. Why?”

“It helps with… convincing the mark to engage with me,” you explain. “There’s excitement in dealing with a married woman.”

He stares at you, a little taken aback. It’s not that he’s not impressed. He is. People are your speciality after all, and you know all the right buttons to push, all the ticks to capitalize on. So he supposes he’s at a loss for words because it’s then that he fully realizes what the operation now entails. The new plan of attack involves you getting close to the mark and August has never been one to let emotions compromise a mission, but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t get awfully close to doing so on this one. If it’s not envy seeing you sweet talk another man, it’s concern. Because he knows he’ll be worrying about your safety as soon as you’re out of sight. Security’s too tight at the venue—neither of you will have a weapon.

“Smart,” he states. “I’ll change it once we’re back at the hotel room.”

You smile in thanks, and your eyes trail down to his left hand, where a ring is absent from his ring finger. It’s not surprising. He keeps it tucked away in his bag for the duration of his missions. It goes in the moment he’s sitting on the plane on the way to his destination, and comes out and is slipped back onto his finger the moment he’s in the car being driven to the airport to go home. As for you, you’re still wearing yours. (And in your defense, you haven’t forgotten to put it away—you would have in time for tonight, but the plan lets you keep it on now, so that’s nice.)

“Don’t forget to put your ring back on,” you remind him.

August grins. “I won’t.”

And he doesn’t. It’s the first thing he does when you return. He fishes it out of the inside pocket of his duffel and slides it on as he sits down at the table and turns on his laptop. You grab yours as well and plop down on the bed. Sloane had texted you this morning asking for an update and you were in charge of that while August took care of changing the name on the invites list. There’s no issue of being too late to update it. The invite list wouldn’t be printed, but rather would be handled electronically, via a tablet.

While August steps out to pick up the clothes for the party, you occupy yourself by reviewing all the details on the mark. You’ll need to know his work backwards and forwards for when you talk with him. The dossier the agency has on him is incredibly thorough, and you feel like you’re studying for a test. Nathaniel Lombardi has been in the game for a long time, having papers going all the way back to when he was in his early 20s, fresh out of college. It’s a lot of information to take in, and one day is hardly enough time to familiarize yourself to the point of comfort, but you’re not always afforded that sort of time. You’ll just need to make do.

As evening approaches, you start getting ready. Since August hasn’t returned yet, you remain in leggings and a t-shirt while you do your hair and makeup. You’re in the bathroom, leaning against the counter to be closer to the mirror as you work. Your hair’s in a French braid updo and now you’re applying makeup—nothing too complicated, just enough to look appropriate for an event like this. It’s a little difficult to figure out colors to use when you don’t know what color the dress is, so you settle for keeping color absent for the most part. Just eyeliner and mascara on the lids, and a tiny bit of blush for a healthy flush. Lipstick has to wait until you actually see what you’re wearing. It’s when you’re dusting blush onto the apples of your cheeks that the door to the room opens.

“I’m back,” August announces.

You set the brush and compact down and peek out of the bathroom, one hand gripping the doorframe as you lean. August smiles when he spots you and sets two garment bags down on the bed. He motions to you as if to say Well, come take a look.

Eagerly you walk over and unzip the one he points out is yours. Your eyes light up as the dress is exposed to you. It’s black and floor-length with an A-line cut and a slit going up one side. There’s a deep V neckline and when you take it out to observe the back as well, you see there’s a similarly daring plunge in the back. Your smile grows the more you take in all the features. The material is soft against your fingers.

August stands to the side, arms crossed as he watches you, gauging the reaction on your face. “Did I choose well?”

You aim your grin at him and nod. “You chose really well. I’m impressed.”

“I won’t lie, it was a bit nerve-wracking dress-shopping for you. You’re very picky.”

You laugh. “Well it’s a good thing you do well under pressure.”

While August is taking a shower, you slip the dress on. It drapes perfectly over your form. This had to be custom-fit. You own enough dresses to know when one has been tailored to your exact measurements, and it would explain why August needed to get it in advance. You smile to yourself as you twist and turn in front of the mirror hanging on the wall. He’d always been good about remembering all the small details.

August exits the bathroom, towel wrapped around his waist, and takes precisely one step before he sees you. He stays where he is, admiring the way you seem to glow. He can see it in your eyes, soft in the wash of lights in the room. And it shows in that little grin he loves so much, and all along the expanse of your skin, to the point he thinks he might burn his fingers if he runs them along your arms or your collarbone or your spine. But they’re burns he’d gladly accept, marks on the sensitive pads he’d keep forever, as proof of the sorts of wonders he’d seen, he’d felt, he’d loved.

Maybe he’s getting carried away waxing lyrical because it’s just you in a mirror in a hotel room, but he never gets tired observing you. Call it an out of body experience. Watching you on the far side of the room is like watching a part of his soul—the most beautiful, and the most free.

“You look great.” He breaks the silence and lets you know he’s there.

“You think so?” you ask, twirling once so he can see the dress from all angles, then strike a small pose, setting both hands on your hips which are shown off so prominently with the way the fabric hugs your curves.

“I knew you’d look great before you even put it on.”

“You’re very confident in your styling skills.”

“More like I was more confident in your ability to pull off anything.” August flashes you a small smile as he starts putting on his own outfit, and you chuckle, cheeks warming at the compliment. He always knows the sweetest things to say.

The final step you had left was applying lipstick. Your job has steadied your hand over the years from all the high-stakes situations you’d found yourself in, where one wrong move could mess everything up, and it comes in handy when it comes to makeup. You slowly drag the wand across your lips, careful not to get any of the product on your skin. Especially with such a bold red, it needs to look flawless. Once it’s on, you relax and exhale, tucking the lipstick tube back into your makeup bag. August holds out his tie to you, and you take it.

“You know”—you slip the tie around his neck and begin to tie it while he sets his hands on your waist—”when you talked about romantic getaways the other day, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind.”

August laughs. “Well we can plan it when we get back. Over dinner.” When you finish up the tie he bends down, prepared to kiss you, but you stop him by putting a finger to his lips.

“Lipstick’s still drying,” you inform him.

He shakes his head and smiles and settles for kissing you on the cheek instead.

———

III.

The drive to the venue isn’t a very long one. In the car, August hands you an earpiece, and you put it in while double-checking that the strands of hair you’d left hanging out of your updo are enough to conceal it.

“We know Lombardi had plans to bring up his research tonight. There are some diplomats in attendance who are interested. So the quicker you can get to him, the better.”

“Understood,” you respond quietly, occupied with making sure your hair is secured properly (you have a bunch of hair pins in your clutch just in case).

August glances over and smiles as you mess with it. “It looks perfect.” He gently takes your hand and kisses the back of it.

You’re far from the first ones to arrive. You fall into the line of people waiting to be admitted, your arms linked together, and once at the front, August lists off your fake names. The man scrolls through the tablet in search of them, and you subtly scan the exterior to get an idea of what security is like. There are numerous others dressed like him patrolling the perimeter, and you know inside won’t be much different. If it’s not these guards playing the all-watchful eye, it’s the cameras.

“Redfield, Garrett and Ziva,” the man reads out once he’s found the names. “Go on in. Enjoy.”

You smile sweetly as August says thank you and guides you inside. The ballroom is spacious, the floor already teeming with other guests. There’s a staircase at the head of the room leading up to the second floor. People seem to part for you as you walk farther in, and a waiter passes with a tray of champagne. August grabs flutes for you both and you sip on it slowly as you scope the room for the target. Neither of you is going to be drinking much tonight. You have a job to do, after all, and it requires every single one of your wits.

August spots him before you do. “He’s in the corner, by the bar,” he murmurs.

You look in the direction he indicates. Nathaniel Lombardi is in the midst of conversation, one hand wrapped around a flute like the one you hold and the other gesturing enthusiastically as he speaks. You attempt to lip-read, but one of the men he’s speaking to adjusts his stance and blocks him from view.

“Think he’s a talkative drunk?” you ponder.

August smirks and brings the flute up to his mouth to take another sip. “Might be. Looks to me like he’s had a good bit already.”

He’s right about that one, and you chuckle. For the most part you’d been wandering aimlessly, but then you’re approached by an older couple who greet you with wide smiles. They introduce themselves and ask what it is you do, and your connections to the one who’d organized this event in the first place. You and August mostly play it by ear, only having slightly worked on a background for your alter egos, but they don’t read much into any of it and simply nod along as you speak.

You try not to be too obvious about the way you glance in Lombardi’s direction, waiting for an opening to insert yourself into a conversation with him. August is doing most of the talking, but the man and woman take it as just you being shy. From what you’ve witnessed so far, Lombardi is an incredibly sociable man. Maybe the drinks are helping that along, but still. He slowly works his way over to the bar, leaning against it as he talks with someone else. You watch him wave the bartender over, and the man Lombardi’s speaking with pats him on the shoulder before making his leave. That’s it. That’s your opening.

“Um…” you start softly, turning back to the couple in front of you. “If you’ll excuse me, I just saw a friend of mine over there and I’d like to go say hi.”

“Yes, of course,” the woman says with a bright smile.

You pat August’s arm and smile up at him, and he looks down at you and nods once. Though he’s smiling too, there’s a sense of gravity to it as well, a reminder to be careful. And you will be. You always are.

“I’ll be right back.” You slip your arm out from his and make a beeline towards your mark.

You take up the empty spot next to him and order a drink for yourself just as the bartender sets down Lombardi’s. Your eyes never leave the bartender as you state what you want, but you can feel his eyes on you, and honestly, deep down, you kind of want to hurl. You hope this goes quickly and smoothly.

He tips his head back to take a swig of his drink, and you glance over as if you’ve just noticed him there. Your smile widely, teeth showing, as you exclaim “Hey, I think I know you!”

Lombardi raises a brow in question as he sets his glass back down on the coaster. “Do you?”

“Yeah! Nathaniel Lombardi, right? The nuclear physicist. I love your work.”

That seems to warm him up to you right away. If looking over all his past research earlier today was your studying, you’re inclined to think you’re acing the test. You recognize the topics he mentions and you refer back to his papers with ease. He’d ordered two more drinks over the course of this conversation and though you can tell his eyes are a little hazy, he’s still mostly coherent. He can really hold his alcohol.

As he tops off his current glass, you spare a glance out towards the rest of the room in search of August. You don’t spot him in those few seconds so you turn your attention back to Lombardi. When the bartender walks past asking if he’d like another, he holds a hand up and says no thank you. You need to get a move on.

“So… is there any research you haven’t published yet?” you begin, trying to make it sound like a passing thought.

Lombardi nods. “I do. Information I’m still perfecting, cleaning up for the peer review.” He waves his hand.

“Like what?”

“You know I can’t tell you, my dear. Strictly confidential until it’s published in a journal.”

You frown in mock disappointment. “I promise I won’t tell a soul. I just want to hear about what’s captured your attention to write about this time. All your papers make waves in the scientific community.” He doesn’t look so convinced, and you’re not, you’re not panicking, because you have a plan, but you need to get the wheels turning soon.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t,” he says.

You purse your lips and avert your gaze for a second, as if to think, before you look at him again. You lower your voice as you ask “Would you be more willing to share it if we were somewhere private?”

Lombardi appears caught off by the proposition, given its implications, and his demeanor changes. He watches you a little closer, at the look in your eyes trying to figure out if he’s misunderstanding. So you help him along, propping your elbow up on the bar and setting your head on your hand, charming smile on your red lips. You lift a leg to set one suede black heel on the foot railing, and the movement shifts your dress, the skin of your thigh visible due to the slit in the clothing. You don’t fail to catch the way his gaze drops down just for a second, before it quickly returns to your face.

“Now is that such a good idea?”

You tilt your head, silently inquiring what he means, and he motions to your wedding ring. “Oh, I’ve been caught.” You laugh lightly. You twist the piece of jewelry as you too glance down at it. “The truth is, I’m in a bit of a rough patch with my husband. We haven’t been talking as much as we used to. I mean, as soon as we got here he left to go speak with big wigs whose names I don’t even know and left me to wander around.”

You sigh heavily and look over at Lombardi again, and you can see he’s genuinely invested in your plight, nodding along with a small frown as you speak. “I’m tired of it. I’m bored here, Mister Lombardi. I wanted some fun and excitement for myself, and I spotted you here. I’ve really enjoyed speaking with you about your research, but I think the night would be even better if we went somewhere quieter. To swap secrets, maybe…” You trail off, head angled downward as you stare at the bar counter. But then you tentatively slide your eyes over to him, and you spot that haziness in his eyes that the alcohol is not entirely responsible for. He’s in the bag. Your new middle name should be Curiosity.

“Yes…” Lombardi answers almost absentmindedly, but then he clears his throat, and speaks up again, more clearly. “Yes, that does sound like a good idea. I would quite like a break from the noise.”

“Then follow me.” You back away from the counter with a sultry grin. He’s quick to follow.

There are rooms on the second floor—private lounges and studies. They’re not in use for the party, but the doors are never locked. As you walk up the large staircase, sticking close to the railing, you glance behind you to make sure Lombardi is there and also to look out over the sea of people to try to spot August. You don’t see him. But apparently he sees you, because then you hear through your ear piece I’m making my way to the bar. Be careful.

August isn’t expecting a response and he sighs quietly as he watches you ascend the stairs with Lombardi on your heels. That’s when it starts to kick in—the heavy feeling in the pit of his stomach, of jealousy, of worry. Of course he knows you can handle yourself, but he just can’t stand the thought of anyone touching you. He thinks he might start losing his mind not being able to see into the room, to know what exactly Lombardi might attempt to do. With another huff, he forces himself to reign it in and trust that you’ll be all right. You want this to be over quickly just as much as he does.

Once he gets to the bar, he orders a drink. He distracts himself by swirling the contents, listening to the ice cubes clink against the glass, and staring into the amber liquid. It won’t be long before he overhears Lombardi’s and your voices through the earpiece, signaling that you’ve found a room.

There’s a study at the end of the hall. You curl your fingers around the doorknob and twist, feeling it give and allowing you to push the door open. You reach out with your free hand to turn the lights on, then step farther into the room to allow Lombardi space. He closes the door behind him, and you hear a click as the lock is put in place.

“I’ll never understand how a man can do that to his wife,” Lombardi begins, approaching you where you stand in the middle of the study. “Especially not one so pretty as yourself.”

He reaches up to brush back the strands of hair too short to be put into your updo, and you smile, shyly looking at the ground. Your gaze lifts and you spot off to the side a bottle of bourbon, along with a couple of tumblers. “Would you like a drink, Mister Lombardi?”

“I would. Thank you…”

“Ziva,” you finish for him. While he takes a seat you pour the drinks, pulling the stopper off the bottle and pouring an equal amount into both tumblers. When you’ve done that, you grab them and turn to find him sitting in the large chair behind the desk, leaning back comfortably with his arms on each armrest. You smile as you round the desk to be on his side and give him his drink, which he takes gratefully. You take your place just to the right of him with your own drink, half-sitting on the edge of the desk and one hand bracing yourself.

You need to steer the conversation without him realizing you’re doing it. But you think it won’t be too hard. The drink he has currently might finally be the straw to break the camel’s back. His eyes aren’t too focused as you thank him again for the wonderful night you’ve had so far being able to talk with him. You ask him again if there’s any new research, any “inside scoop” he could give you. I’m good at keeping secrets you promise, looking up at him from over your glass.

“I suppose I could share them with you…” Lombardi states, and inside you’re cheering. Now’s the time to get down to business.

The walls of the bar are backlit, casting a glow over all the patrons at the bar. August stares ahead at the shelves full of alcohol as he listens to Lombardi’s voice filtering into his ear. He’s begun to share the schematics with you, outlining his design and the tech he’s developed that would make these weapons possible. The plans he has are incredibly detailed. It’s truly a wonder how he was able to keep it all in his head. August is sure this information has a high price tag. Lombardi had thought everything out.

“Hi there.”

A woman sidles up to August, inserting herself in the spot to his right. He grins thinly, still listening in on Lombardi. “Hello.” He faces forward again.

“Did you come here alone?”

August sighs and glances at her again. She’s smiling, clearly interested. “No, actually. I’m here with my wife.”

The woman nods and pretends to look around. “Where is she? I don’t see anyone else with you.”

August is about to respond, forcing a smile back onto his face as he takes a sip of his drink. But then he hears Lombardi changing the topic now that he’s finished explaining to you all the schematics: And how about your secrets, Miss Ziva? I’m good about keeping quiet about them too. This prompts August to change course.

“Excuse me,” he states curtly. He doesn’t wait for a reply as he starts making his way to the staircase, abandoning his drink on the bar counter.

Your mind is still reeling with all the information Lombardi just shared, and you’re doing your best to remember it as accurately as possible for later on, when you write it all down to send off to Sloane. As such, you don’t immediately process that he’s switching topics and turning it on you.

“And how about your secrets, Miss Ziva? I’m good about keeping quiet about them too.”

You watch as Lombardi empties his glass. It’s the second glass of bourbon you’ve poured for him. You’d brought the bottle over to the desk, and you think he’s about to pour himself a third, but instead he reaches out for you, a hand setting itself on your thigh. His smile is sly but it’s not coming across as smoothly as he probably thinks it is given his increasing levels of drunkenness. You try not to recoil in disgust as he touches your leg, fingers splayed as he starts sliding upward. Okay, it’s time to go.

You open your mouth, about to give an excuse that you’re feeling ill, but there’s a knock at the door, and both of you look towards it. thoroughly confused. Had you been caught? But you made sure no one had seen or tried to follow. There’s no way.

“Who could that be?” Lombardi mumbles, clearly disgruntled. His hand slips from your leg as he stands and takes a moment to steady himself. You stand up straight as well and walk around the desk, pausing just in front of it as he goes to unlock the door. He opens it and you spot August on the other side, towering over the shorter man. Lombardi isn’t able to ask who he is before August knocks him out.

Your eyes widen as Lombardi falls to a crumpled heap on the ground. “August!” you exclaim, not even bothering to call him by his fake name. Your eyes slide up to him and you don’t have to ask your question verbally. It’s written all over your face—what the hell is he doing?

“We got what we came for,” he says simply. “Let’s go.”

It’s not a good enough answer for you but you do as he says, stepping over Lombardi and taking August’s outstretched hand to help you keep your balance in the heels you have on. He turns the lights off and closes the door before digging out his phone from the inside pocket of his suit jacket. As he dials a number and brings the phone up to his ear, you glance back behind you at the study.

“He’s on the second floor, end of the hallway in the room to the left.” August gets right to the point, and it’s the one thing he says before he hangs up and tucks the phone away. That cleanup crew Sloane had lying in wait to collect Lombardi better get here fast, before he wakes up again and starts causing a fuss.

When you get back to the hustle and bustle of the party, you take a deep breath to collect yourself. August offers you his arm and you hook your own through it. He guides you back down the stairs, in the direction of the exit. You weave through the crowd fluidly, no one paying you any mind as you make your leave. There are taxis parked along the curb and you take the first one. You slide in and August gets in behind you before he shuts the door and tells the driver the name of your hotel. The man nods and pulls out into traffic.

It’s a silent car ride, and halfway through it, August glances over at you. You’re staring out the window, arms crossed. The lights of the city bounce off your face as the vehicle moves down the street, and he can see the flash of irritation in your eyes with every street lamp you pass.  

———

IV.

The atmosphere remains tense even when you get back to the hotel. August doesn’t say anything on the elevator, wanting to give you time to cool down. And he still doesn’t say anything back in the room, affording you the silence to concentrate as you write down everything you’ve found out from Lombardi. You’ve kicked off your heels and are currently lounging at the able in the corner, typing away on your laptop. August toes off his own shoes before shrugging off his suit jacket and undoing his tie. He tosses them on the bed just as his phone vibrates, and he checks the message.

From: Sloane

The mark is in custody. No attention drawn. Nicely done.

“They’ve captured Lombardi,” August announces. He’d been aching to break the silence ever since you got into the taxi but had no idea what to say. At least now he has this. “No one had any suspicions.”

“That’s good.” Your answer is short and succinct. It’s distracted. And it might be said this is because you’re busy writing up the report, but August knows that’s not the reason. He’d seen you hit send on the e-mail five minutes ago, but now you’re scrolling through your inbox even though there aren’t any new messages, just as there hadn’t been the last three times you refreshed.

He sighs heavily. It hasn’t been an hour since you’d left the party and he’s tired of the silent treatment. There’s no use dancing around it any longer. “Is something wrong?” he inquires. He has a strong feeling he knows what this is about.

Once the issue is brought out into the open, hanging in the air between you both, you shut your laptop and face your husband. The look in your eyes could cut through steel. “You were out of line tonight.”

“I did what I had to do. And we got what we were there for in the end anyway.”

“That’s not the point!” You stand up but stay where you are as you cross your arms. “You did what you wanted to do. I didn’t need help getting out of that.”

“I wasn’t saying that you couldn’t do it—”

“No, but you let your emotions get in the way! What if someone had seen you?”

“No one did. We still made a clean getaway.”

You take a deep breath to calm down, not wanting to raise your voice. Shouting matches don't solve anything. Truthfully, it’s not that you’re angry at August. You’re not. You’re more scared than anything because of what his actions this evening suggest. And so you sit back down in the chair and tell him of your concerns.

“You—both of us—have spent years training not to let emotions dictate what we do, how we act, during these operations. I don’t want my presence on a mission with you to compromise all that.” Because he’s a great agent, arguably the best you’ve ever seen.

You fear that being out on the field with him might hold him back because of what you mean to him, and to what ends he’d be willing to go to keep you safe. And you’ll admit you have the same fear for yourself. If he were in trouble, you’d drop everything to go help him. Perhaps it’s more accurate to say that you’re frustrated with him and yourself. The mission has to come first. It’s your job. But on a personal level, you both hold the other in higher esteem than the mission itself. You always would. You’re simultaneously the strongest and the most precarious team Sloane will ever have in her employ. And maybe she knows that. In fact, you’re confident she does. But maybe she also knows that despite it, you work through it and get the job done, and you do it well. If the risks outweighed the benefits, you and August would never be assigned the same mission.

August watches you as he lets your words sink in. You’re right. What he did was out of line, and it was dangerous. Just because he got off scot-free this time doesn’t mean he would the next time this kind of situation arose. There’s only one person he fears to disappoint more than Sloane, and she’s sitting before him, rubbing her temples, exhausted and stressed but still looking so perfect and put-together in the soft light of the lamp nearby, cloaked in black and cheeks dusted with blush the shade of a summertime flush.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I got carried away.”

Your eyes slide open slowly and you smile. It’s fatigued but not any less loving. “It’s okay.”

“I just hated when you had to do those things. And when I heard the way he talked to you…”

“I hated having to do it too, but we do what we need to in order to finish the job.” You stand up and walk over to him. The dress trails along the floor now that you’re without heels, and with the way they conceal your feet, it’s like you’re gliding along the carpet. “But it’s over now. Like you said, we got what we were there for.”

August opens his arms as you approach and wraps them around you. His hands are warm against the skin of your back, left exposed by the dip in the dress. He bends down to kiss you before leaning his forehead against yours, remaining close enough that your lips brush together. You set your hands on either side of his face and smile up at him sweetly. He’s falling in love all over again.

“I’m ready for that vacation,” he states tiredly, and you laugh.

———

V.

The skies are a deep blue and the water is crystal clear. It’s the storybook perfection you read about in travel brochures or hear from friends who have been there themselves. You have to go! they all say. There’s no experience like it. And you suppose there isn’t. You find yourself rather in awe currently.

“It’s beautiful,” you comment, staring out at the point where the ocean meets the sky. You almost want to reach out for it, to defy the impossible and reach the horizon with nothing more than a simple stretching out of your hand.

August hums from beside you. “It is.”

You smile, cycling through the pictures with a quiet click click click, until you reach the first one again, and you pull the View-Master away from your face. You blink as your eyes adjust to the daylight pouring in through the window, and your eyes settle on your husband, who’s already watching you. He grins.

“You enjoy your trip?” he inquires.

“I did,” you tell him with a nod.

The blankets are rumpled and messy and half falling off the bed but neither of you cares. August is shirtless and clad only in a pair of sweats, and you’re in a tank top and panties. Both of your work phones rest on the dresser and haven’t rung at all since you got home. It’s a welcome change to not have to worry about receiving a call. This is a break you’ve been needing. The original notion of a getaway had seemed pleasant at first, but upon the conclusion of the mission, you were too worn out to entertain the idea anymore. As such, you’ve settled for staying in. It’s still a great vacation because the part that matters most is that you’re together.

You set the stereoscope down and stretch, arms high above your head and back arching. When you relax again, you roll onto your side and snuggle closer to August, who automatically wraps an arm around your shoulders. He leans up to capture your lips in a kiss—one of many you’ve shared today. You haven’t left the bed much at all, but it’s nice to be lazy for once.

He slides his free hand down your side, along your waist and your hip until he gets to your thigh, and he pulls gently, draping your leg across him. His fingers ghost over the soft skin and you shiver, goosebumps rising at his feather-light touch. You break the kiss and he doesn’t open his eyes right away, basking in the moment, in the feel of you.

“I’ll be honest,” you begin. “I wasn’t expecting Sloane to actually agree to giving us a break.”

This prompts August to chuckle as he finally opens his eyes. “We deserved it.”

You hum. “We did.” You kiss him once more quickly before grabbing the View-Master again and pulling out the reel. You reach over him to grab the other reels on the nightstand, and he turns his head to watch as you do. When you’ve grabbed the reels, you sit up and flip through them.

August rests one hand on his stomach and the other is on your thigh again, slowly stroking up and down the heated expanse. His eyes never leave your face and he studies the way your lashes brush against your cheeks as you look down at the photo reels. Your hair is tangled and disheveled from moving around and he knows you’re going to ask him to brush it out later because he’s more patient than you are, and he’ll say yes because brushing your hair is one of his favorite things to do.

He wants to freeze this moment in time forever, immortalize it as a series of photos in a reel like the ones you hold in your hand. If tropical beaches are storybook perfection, you and him in this bedroom right now are the first swirling of the author’s imagination, before anything is put on paper, the brilliance in their mind come to life. Unparalleled, whose magic could never fully be encapsulated by words, playing over and over again behind closed eyelids with the hope that maybe one day the moods evoked from such a scene might accurately be transcribed. The so-called perfection on the pages of the book is a step below what the two of you have right here.

You narrow the options down to two reels and hold them up for August to see. “Should we go to the countryside or the mountains?”

August thinks about it for a second as he sits up, leaning back against the headboard. “Let’s go to the mountains.”

You smile brightly and nod. After you’ve inserted the reel into the View-Master, you cuddle close, and his arms slip around your waist to keep you against him. He kisses your head and picks up the scent of lavender shampoo, and he can’t help smiling too. It feels good to be home.

[fivesoskingdom]

"Kill him." gang!Ashton (Golden Star Fanfic)

A/N: Knock knock knock. Someone's there? Guess who is finally free from college?? This bitch. Hell yeah. Well, actually I'm free for 20 days now, but I was on my break, OK? Let me be happy. But now I'm back. I'm back and ready to spam you guys with chapters. Until December 31th I'll be posting as much as I can, maybe a chapter a day, maybe one chapter each other day, I'll just write the stuff and post here, doesn't matter the 30 notes, I'm doing it for you guys who waited for this and kept sending me asks about it. Welcome back. I hope you like it. (But I'll still be happy with comments and asks and likes and reblog, jfk)

Summary: Its opening day! After being locked at the building for so long, you're finally out for some fun with the guys. But being part of a gang never lets you have fun the way you like and sometimes you end up in danger.

T.W: THIS CHAPTER MENTIONS RAPE. IT'S NOTHING TOO EXPLICIT, BUT PLEASE BE AWARE AND CAREFUL. Thank you.

You can find the previous parts here

~

It was a saturday night and for the first time in forever everyone was on the building, you could hear people talking and in a very strange way the place seemed alive, almost like something you could call home. You got into the kitchen to find the guys all dressed up, looking even better than usual.

"Why are you on your pj's in a Saturday night?" Luke raised one eyebrow looking at you. "We said we were going out today."

"Not to me." you shook your head, denying and making all the boys look at each with judgmental faces. "But that's OK, you guys can go and have fun, I'll be here catching up on Modern Family."

"Seriously, that's how you want to spend your night?" Calum looks at you, you just shrug again, waving your hand on his direction before going to the fridge to get some cake. "Let's go, you need some distraction."

"You sure?" you raise one eyebrow looking at him, but he didn't respond, just held your wrist taking you to your bedroom. You had showered minutes before since you were getting ready to bed, so you just changed your clothes for something you thought it would be suitable for whenever they were going and a make up a little more fancy that you're used to. You got downstairs finding them talking to some partners who would be taking care of the building while everyone was out and you just blushed when the nine men looked at you with widen eyes. "What?" you asked, but no one dared to say a thing. After almost ten minutes the five of you divided between three cars, you choose to go with Calum, since he was the one who actually invited you.

"You look great." he said glancing at you, but looking to the streets.

"Thank you." you smiled, blushing a little. It was the first time in forever that you had received a compliment, you didn't even noticed how much time you spent locked out of the world. "Gosh, I feel like it has a life time that I don't see the world."

"Months, I would say." Calum looked at you. "You really need to go out more, being all the time in the building isn't good for you, believe me. And you're getting pale, you need some sun, you know."

"Yeah, I know. I just don't have anywhere to go, anyone to see. God, I just vanish from existence of everyone in my life, I don't know how there's not a bunch of people looking around for me. How everyone just believed when I said that I needed some time?"

"You didn't really gave them any other option." he chuckled and you needed to agree. After a couple of minutes you discovered that they were going to a club almost out of town, the place was huge, lights all over with a big yellow neon sign shining and getting all the attention. Wonderland. The line outside was almost infinite, you couldn't count how many people were there.

"Wow. This is huge." you said when all the cars were parked, the four men around you while walking across the street to get in. "And this line? Fuck."

"Night, Mr Irwin. Mr Clifford. Mr Hemmings. Mr Hood." the man at the door said and there was when it hit you.

"This place is yours."

"Today is the open day." Luke said with a smile on his face, inside, the place was completely empty apart from the staff. Looking at the ceiling you could see that it had, at least, three floors, so high that you couldn't really see the end of it, since it was so dark." Everything's ready?" you heard him ask, changing your look to the blonde guy, you saw him talking to a woman from the staff, she nodded, she was dressed all in white and gold, just like the rest of the people there.

"I'll get a drink." you said starting to walk to the bar.

"Let me." Calum said going with you. The bartender looked at both of you with a sweet smile. "Shane, take care of her. She can have anything." he pointed to you, a bit of power crossed your body, making you smile when Shane smile at you, nodding.

Wonderland was crowded, the music was blasting from the speakers, the DJ didn't let people stop for a second. You had be dancing for the longest time, a guy who said that his name was Daniel were with you all the time, his body glued to yours while you two dancing in the middle of the dance floor. If you looked around you could see the partners, they were all over the place, some taking care of security, some doing business that you rather don't wonder what exactly, some looking at you. They guys were long gone, you didn't saw any of them anymore after people started to come in, but you just figured out that they must had been doing his business as well or at least having their own fun. That didn't bother you, actually, it was good to know that at least for some hours you wasn't a problem to them, they could just let go and live their lives without having to keep an eye on you all the time. Daniel was fun, when he kissed you was like your body were on fire, he knew exactly what he was doing and you loved it. It was good to be finally with someone again, even if it was just some kissing.

Daniel convinced you to go somewhere with less people and giving the time you spend on the dance floor it wasn't exactly a bad idea. You two got into a hallway, the suddenly light made you squeeze your eyes while giggling, the boy's hands were all over your body, trying to find a way to get under your clothes, but having a hard time since it was way too tight.

"Easy, pretty boy." you laughed, trying to hold his hands while opening a door from some room you really didn't knew what had inside.

"You look good in this clothes, but would look better without them." his breath on your neck made you shiver, the smile never leaving your face. It was clearly an office, soon you were making out on a big black sofa, you two laying down with him over you while his hands were all over your body. He manged to open the button of your pants, making your eyes get widen.

"Daniel, hold on." you try to hold his wrist, but he just hold both your hands on your back while trying to get his free hand inside your pants. "Daniel!"

"Those pants are too tight. Got me wondering if your pussy is tight as well." he finds his way to your underwear, making your heart race.

"Daniel, let me go." you try to get out of his hands, but it's like he's not even listening to you since he keeps talking obscenities on your ear. You try to kick him, but his body is so close to yours that you can't move, remembering the little stuff Calum had teach you about self defense, you try to hit his head with yours, but you miss it and the move along with the alcohol just makes you feel dizzy and ready to puke, with your hands held by him you can't get the necklace to call the boys and even if you could, they would only know that you were in danger somewhere in the building. Would help. "Fucking shit, let me go!" you close your eyes, trying to go away of the pain of his fingers on you while trying to think how get to the little star. Suddenly his weight is gone, making you ffinally breathe before opening your eyes just to see a big figure in front of him, ready to punch him in the face. You try to get up as fast as you can, reaching the person just to see Michael. If usually his has a blank expression, in that moment it looked like he wasn't even human. He punched Daniel for the first time, making him go down, but Daniel didn't run away, he actually punched Michael back. You knew that if you didn't stop that, things would be out of control. "Michael, stop!" you scream, but he doesn't listen to you, hitting Daniel again. Taking advantage of the fact that they split up for a second, you got in the middle of them, looking to the member of the Golden Star in the eyes and letting both of your hands on his chest, before talking again. "Mike, stop." it was like he came back to himself, a little flame of humanity coming across his face. "Throw him out, but it's enough."

"What the fuck?" you hear Daniel say. "You know this guy?"

"Daniel, get out of here." you say between teeth looking at him, but not taking your hands out of Michael. "Now."

"Oh, I get it. He's your boyfriend. You're just another whore who loves a criminal." he crossed his arms, a smirk on his face with his nose bleeding. You feel Michael take a deep breath like an angry bull and you look back to him.

"No, I get it." you say.

"Is him your pimp?" Daniel says again. "You know, you don't even worth this much, not that hot." you need to actually use force to keep Michael on his place, somehow getting some control. "Doesn't matter, you will end up dead in dome dark alley anyway. I'll have you then."

"Kill him." You mutter to Michael, taking off your hands of his chest, it didn't take more than two seconds before you heard the crack of a broke bone, looking behind you to see Michael letting Daniel's head go, his body going directly to the ground, his neck twisted." Son of a bitch." you say again in a whisper.

"Are you OK?" you hear Michael say, looking at you now with his usual blank stare. You just nod and he comes closer. "Are you sure?"

"I'm, just get rid of him before anyone else sees it." you say closing your pants button, Michael just nod, going back to the body exactly when Calum comes down the hallway, looking mad.

"What the fuck, Michael?" he almost screamed. "It's opening day and you're already killing people?"

"He tried to rape her." Michael said, annoyed, pointing to you while getting Daniel's body on his arms, Calum finally acknowledged your presence.

"He what?" he looks at you, his eyes in a mix of anger, madness and concern. "Are you OK?" you just nod again. "Are you sure?" with another nod he seems convinced, turning back to Michael. "Get out of here." he opens one of the doors showing the street, a dark alley full of trashcan, Michael let Daniel's get to one of them, the biggest one, and for some reason you know that that one is specifically for that. "I'll call someone to take care of this. You" he points to you. "Go to the office and talk to Ashton. You," he points to Michael "go with her, but please don't kill anyone else on your way." you both nod, Michael rolling his eyes before getting you to the office.

~

Tagged babes: @betkaskarpetka @songforhema @booklove-2 @tremendously-sassy-c-dizzle @neralondon @xoxellie @mysteriouslycali @pretty-in-black-things @beautifulplacesforhappines

[voltagefangirl19]

Too Late (kbtbb fic)

This is the end of the spam, also a new chapter after almost an entire year of not posting anything. again I want to thank all my followers for staying with me <3 enjoy!

Summary: In an AU where MC (Sakurai Yuuki) helps all bidders but doesn’t start an immediate relationship with neither, she gets kidnapped by a very resourceful and strong Mafia. Are the bidders able to save her on time?   Genre: angst Masterpost

<-- Previous   Chapter 5    Next -->

“Spit it out! What did you find” Soryu sees Eisuke become paler as he hangs down the quick call he made to Hishikura to let him know about the situation “Eisuke what is it?” Soryu asks and the king pushes a button on his cell to put it on speaker “Say that again Hikaru” “Her phone signal appears to be in a dumpster five blocks south from the hotel, no phone records or missing calls, there are no messages, apparently all her data has been erased and the only thing I could track was the hidden chip I installed, but not the phone itself, so it’s possible that it was destroyed, this is what I can get now, I’ll keep looking for her” “God dammit!“ Eisuke has to resist the impulse of throwing his phone to the wall  as soon as the hacker hung up The king’s device rings again a second later, it’s Mamoru “Eisuke, I might have a clue, there’s a recently new employee that just a while ago presented his resignation, according to the footage he talked to Sakurai today and a few times before, also I got a visual on the girl who was in the list originally” “Got it, send his information to the dragons so they look for him, to Aihara as well, I want to know as much as how many times a day he breaths, same with the girl and I want you to question her” he orders the cop and hangs up, how could this be happening? Soryu looks troubled, like he wants to say something, he does open his mouth but before a word could be said, the doors are open “Did someone hurt sexy bones?” Luke asks concerned at the same time he enters the lounge “Yes, Luke, I need to see if you recognize this girl” Eisuke puts the recently arrived footage of the auction and sees how the doctor’s face becomes grim “Why does sexy bones is being sold again?” both bidders contain their breaths “Are you sure that’s her?” the mobster asks, his heart clutching in dread “I couldn’t be wrong, nobody besides Yuuki and Eisuke have such a perfect anatomy” he makes a pause, he stares at the screen the moment he sees the girl moved her head right to the cameras, she knew where they were “Her hair is different though” Soryu muttered something under his breath, Eisuke just looks at him with contained rage in his eyes “Thanks, Luke, I need another favor” The doctor nods “Search for her in the black market, look at some of your previous clients and dig a little…. You are free of using any method you prefer” 

A few hours later all the bidders return, Soryu has the chance to update them before Eisuke snaps “Who sold her?!”  “It remained anonymous, the other kid knew nothin’, she just said a tall man in a suit paid her well to attend the auction and to present herself to us as a product” Mamoru answers “She doesn’t have any records or backgrounds, probably just a hooker, I let Samejima take care of her” Soryu says reading the text his subordinate sent him “What about the buyer?”   “Paid in cash and left according to Maddy, and the dragons agreed that by the time we stopped the auction he was already gone, most likely the seller as well, the papers show he took the money, sign the confidentiality agreement with a fake name and vanished” Ota adds, he can feel a headache after spending so much time checking the records  “This is not how things at the auction should go, who was looking this?! How could we miss something like this?” the king is furious and everyone can notice it, it’s the first time in a while that they see Eisuke like this   “I-I don’t know, boss, we might have grown used to the regulars, and since there hadn’t been any troubles lately…” “That’s no excuse! Yuuki has helped us time after time and she is now in danger because of our negligence! She is one of us now and we have lost her!”  “We have to find her, we have to find her quick” Ota whispers “The dragons found the guy that talked to Sakurai, they are bringing him to the quarters, I’m going to do the interrogatory myself” Soryu has his mobster mindset on “You better get something good out of him” Mamoru chimes in “As soon as you have his information I’m going to run his credentials, see if he got any record” “Do we have any other lead?” everyone else shakes their heads, they couldn’t detain the IVC guests for long and anyone who could have been the guilty was already gone by now, even with Hikaru (and Baba helping him) hacking on all of them at record-breaking speed, to search into all of them had been an impossible task from the beginning “That man is currently our only clue, without him… we are pretty much at a dead end” The King’s words lay heavy on everyone, dread and despair floating all over them. They were about to lose her   

Yuuki’s POV

“Hey, hey!” I can hear someone calling out to me, it’s a soft voice, I know I need to wake up, but I don’t want to, I don’t want to wake up to a nightmare again “Hey, you are alright, you can open your eyes now, nothing is going to happen to you” the voice sounds kind and reassuring, so I indulge it’s desire. The first thing I see is a woman’s face, she seems young but the tiredness in her features makes her look mature “There you go, that wasn’t that hard right?” she says that but actually, everything is blurry, only her face looks clear, I can feel my head spinning, everything is shining, or is it just my imagination?, I think I try to sit but I can’t feel anything that’s not dizziness “Whoa, don’t try to move, you were highly drugged, just stay still and take deep breaths, it should pass soon” I close my eyes again, everything is so bright, my head hurts too much, I do as I am told and breath, but is not enough and I can feel nausea and the indistinct sensation of something come from my stomach “Here!” a bucket appear in my sight and I feel grateful, I only throw up acid. soon I hear another voice, a more energetic one “Oh, the newbie woke up, welcome back, you were out for quite a bit” I put the bucket down. The world stops spinning for a moment “Come on Stella, let her rest a little”  “I haven’t done anything yet, I was just trying to emphasize how lucky she is for having the doctor for her first time that’s all” the cheerful voice turns smug all of the sudden. I snap at that comment and jolt while looking at her, not caring about the dizzy sensation in the back of my head “Lucky? You have no idea what I suffered back there, How dare you say I was LUCKY?!” I can feel the corner of my eyes stinging, getting wet with new tears at the memories that come oh so clear now, the other woman steps in front of me, partially ready to catch me if I stumble, but I’m only looking at her, a red-hair with green eyes, she is beautiful, one part of my drugged mind asks ‘What is doing such a pretty girl like that in here?’ another part of my mind asks ‘Where is here?’  “You are the one who has no idea what the hell you’re talking about” her eyes turns fierce, I don’t think I can win her in the state I’m in, barely keeping myself from falling, but I’m not backing down  “Now now, everyone let’s get along” The other brunette woman says looking between the both of us “That was not a nice thing to say, Stella, you know how scary is the first time” she says to the red-haired woman, she relaxes, but I remain tense  “It’s the truth, I don’t care if she is blind enough to not see it right now, but she’ll know in a few weeks… or days” the woman, Stella, shrugs and turns around to look another body… another girl curled up in the furthest corner  “Ah… sorry about that, she is the one who has been here the most, at least in this cell” the girl says in a somewhat soothing tone but with a sad smile “I’m Mina, nice to meet you” “I’m Sakurai Yuuki” the girl, ‘Mina’ frowns  “They told us your new name is Kissa” … What? “What you mean ‘your new name’?”  “Do you even know the situation you are in, Yuuki?” Stella butts in, her voice all smug again, fine, two can play this game “You wouldn’t care to enlight me now, would you?” I say with all the attitude I can muster, if they think they can break me that easily then they have another thing coming, the red hair ignore my sarcasm and comes closer, I backtrack a little but the bed I woke up in is in the way; she looks at me and her green and beautiful eyes send me a glare that I can only interpret as judging  “You… are in hell” she deadpans  “Care to be more specific?”   “To keep it simple to your poor and innocent mind… welcome to a brothel” my hands actually turns into fist hearing that “The most expensive and exquisite this side of the coast at that” I frown, she smirks “So what? Your parents own money? You were involved with the mob? Did the local gangster wanted to have his way with you and you didn’t leave him? Well you should’ve, you just entered hell, and you know what? What you just live? That was lucky, you got away with a few bruises only, and that means that you won’t be available until those fade, so that’s being lucky” she gets close enough to me so I can actually focus on her face and see little scars here and there, her expression is a solid ice, cold and calculated “You know the basics now, so stop crying and whimpering about it, better prepared yourself for what’s next” she harshly speaks, almost spitting the words and turns around to a bed on the other side of the room. I really don’t understand what’s going on here, my mind keeps spinning and I feel tired  “What does she mean?” I quietly ask, the other girl, Mina sits on the bed I woke up, and lightly pulls my arm so I do the same “You know what a brothel is, right? Men… sometimes even women, come here and… do what they want to us, there are a lot of girls around, I heard there were once boys too, we all have different stories, you were brought here I think… it was the night before? You were unconscious, Diva told us you are the new one, your name is Kissa and you are the Doctor’s new favorite” she looks at me intently “How do you get here? Did you own money? Because if you do you might be freed when your debt is paid” it’s a lot to process, my mind keeps swimming trying to grasp the little facts, I shouldn’t be here, is all the conclusion I can get to “I… don’t... I don’t have any debt” I finally muster, feeling as my head becomes foggy, even the debt I had with the bidders is already paid now “Then…” I don’t know what she says next because I have the feeling everything is growing dark “For now rest, the trip down from the drugs is going to be a rough one” I hear her whispering, a pair of hands help me to lay down and then the darkness comes 

Tag: @myotomespace

[rose-red-ink]

Shadows and Thrones, Chapter One

Hey everyone, thanks for showing interest in my book! I’ll be adding a link to this and subsequent chapters on my masterlist page. Hope you all enjoy. 

Chapter 1

Everything began to fade away; the bed beneath me, the press of the metal headset in front of my eyes, the quiet birdsong outside my window. The world faded to black as my mind was teleported to somewhere far away and nowhere all at once.

The world of Shadows and Thrones, the newest VR game on the market. The darkness around me started to swirl with muted color, consolidating into a generic female avatar standing a few feet in front of me.

Dozens of menus popped up, offering height, weight, hair color, race, skin color, fighter class, and more things to choose from than my overly-excited brain could settle on. A grin on my face, I set to work.

My boots touched down with a soft crunch in a beautiful pine forest. The trees stretched tall and green above my head, swaying gently in the breeze. The sharp scent of pine needles touched my nose, and I couldn’t contain a tiny gasp. Full-dive virtual reality really was amazing. A thrill rushed in my chest, a familiar ache to run and climb and explore every inch of this new world.

‘And then what?’ a little voice whispered in my head. ‘You’ll explore this world, it’ll be all fun and exciting for a few months. It won’t make you happy.’

I shook my head. “Shut up.”

I was here, the sun shining in a dappled pattern over my avatar’s skin, a whole new world stretching out before me. I didn’t have to be thinking about all that, I shouldn’t.

I took a deep breath through my nose, taking in the scents of pine and damp earth and freshly baked bread, somewhere off in the distance. Probably a town, one with a tavern.

I could find some other players, try to join a guild, or even just a party for a few days as I got used to things. Maybe people might want me in their guild, if I didn’t mess up too much.

Squaring my shoulders, I walked towards the direction of the smell. As the trees thinned out, I could see a village across the fields of grass, chimney smoke rising into the clear blue sky. Perfect.

The tavern was filled with players of all races crowded around tables. An NPC barmaid pushed past me, delivering mugs of mead to a drow and some kind of water spirit race, before bustling back to the bar.

Everyone seemed to know everyone else, groups of friends and old guilds meeting up. A girl in low-cut armor lounged in the corner, hitting on whoever walked by, and acting super friendly to any girl players who wandered past.

I steered clear. I’d played enough video games to know who those kinds of players were.

But as the tavern filled with more players, my hesitation grew. My eyes drifted to the notice board. I could put up a sign, saying I needed a guild to join, but that could yield...uncomfortable results.

So I sat on a bar stool, picking at my long fingernails, for what seemed like forever.

After nearly an hour, I sighed and resigned myself to just making a notice board post and hoping whoever picked me up wasn’t too creepy.

Looking for guild!

My name’s Risty Blackburn, I’m a level one shadow rogue, leaning towards a DPS role.. Looking for a guild to join. No spam or roleplaying guilds, please!

ID contact number: 78349375841

‘You really think anyone’s going to be interested with that? Just log out and stop wasting your time.’

I winced, tearing down the notice. I mentally called up the menu screen, reaching for the logout button.

I tapped it. Nothing happened.

I frowned. Tapped again.

The tavern still bustled around me.

Maybe the headgear took a couple minutes to shut down? The instruction manual said it was supposed to be instantaneous, but this was a new game. They probably had to work out a few bugs.

I waited five minutes. Ten. Fifteen.

Then, my stomach flipped. An elf player stood, reaching for his menu, and disappeared in a flash of light.

He was logged out instantly. Was something wrong with my VR gear? Or the game?

I hurried over to the table he had just left. A dwarf man and some sort of cat woman looked up at me expectantly.

My stomach dropped. “H-hello.” I managed. “I, uh, have either of you had a problem logging out? I saw your friend did, but mine isn’t working.”

The dwarf rolled his eyes. “It’s not that hard, noob.”

He pulled up his menu, pointing to the logout button. “See? Right here.”

Frustration boiled inside me. “I know.” I snapped, pulling it up. “But it doesn’t work.”

I demonstrated, the button still yielding no results.

The cat-woman frowned, looking at my screen. “That’s weird…”

The dwarf sneered. “Go figure it out yourself.”

The cat-woman smacked his arm with a disapproving glare, before looking back to me. “I’d go to the city hall. There are some friendly NPCs who can help with any glitches.”

I nodded, thanking her.

So I just needed to get bug sorted out. That was all. Everything would be fine. But I couldn’t shove aside the sinking feeling in my chest as I left the tavern and into the coming sunset.

Something was off.

“What the hell do you mean?!”

The enraged roar was what greeted me as I walked into the city hall. An elf man was yelling at an NPC with a politely blank expression.

“You do not meet the requirements to log out right now.” the computer-generated man said calmly.

“If you say that one more time--”

“You can’t log out?” I interrupted. Which I immediately regretted as he whirled on me, green eyes blazing with anger.

“Figure that out all by yourself?” he snarled. “The stupid logout button doesn’t work.”

I shrank back. “Mine doesn’t work either.” I managed. “That’s why...why I’m here.”

He looked at me with narrowed eyes, before moving aside.

“Talk to him,” he ordered.

I hesitated, before walking quickly past him, in front of the NPC.

“Hello,” I said quietly.

He smiled politely, his settings reset to talk to me. “Good evening, adventurer. How may I help you?”

“I can’t log out.” I explained.

He smiled. “Alright! I’ll pull up your profile and see what I can do. Please stay patient.”

His expression went blank again.

“This takes a while.” the elf explained. He kept fidgeting, picking the sleeves of his long cloak. From his clothes and the starter’s bow slung over his shoulder…

“You’re a ranger, right?” I asked.

He looked down. “Oh...yeah.”

I nodded. “It looks...nice.” His avatar did look good, it was clear he had spent lots of time on it. His skin was light brown, with long black hair loose around his shoulders. His eyes were dark green, like the pine forest I had spawned in. But his eyes kept darting around impatiently, never settling on anything for too long.

“Did you need to log out for something?” I asked.

He grimaced. “I...yeah. I just got a message from my sister a few minutes ago, she went into labor. I’m gonna miss the birth of my new niece or nephew if this bug doesn’t clear up.”

I winced. “Ugh, I’m so sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t apologize, it’s not your fault.” he scratched the back of his head. “Sorry I was yelling.”

I smiled. “It’s alright, I understand. You’re probably freaking out a bit for your sister, right?”

He gave a tight, stressed laugh. “Yeah. But I mean, her husband’s taking her to the hospital, and my mom is with her...she’ll be okay. It’s just irritating.”

He shook his head, as if trying to clear out his intruding thoughts, and held out his hand. “Anyway...I’m Lorson Clearwater”

I shook it. “Risty Blackburn.”

He grinned. “Okay, that’s a cool name. And a neat avatar.”

I couldn’t help my smile. “Yeah, it took me an hour,” I admitted.

My avatar had long, dark red hair, turning to golden blonde as it reached the tips. Her skin was dappled with freckles, and she wore simple black leather armor under a reddish-brown cloak. A couple simple daggers were strapped to her belt. But the best parts were the ears and tail. They were those of a fox, and the same red-brown as the cloak, tipped in white.

“Kitsune is a pretty cool race. I figured I’d go classic, though,” he admitted, looking down at his avatar.

“Nothing wrong with classics.” I reminded him cheerfully.

He smiled, some of the tension seeming to leave his face. “Right? Elves are awesome.”

“Ms. Blackburn, I’ve finished your scan.” the NPC interrupted.

I turned, heart pounding. “Thank you. What did you find? Can I log out?”

The NPC smiled. “You do not meet the requirements to log out. Thank you.”

Four hours later, Lorson got a message from his mother that his sister had given birth to a healthy baby boy. She was annoyed he hadn’t been there. He told her something had come up, that there was an accident, but he was okay.

Lorson and I couldn’t get any more answers out of the NPC, so the two of us had gone out of the hall, and sat on the marble steps. He’d halfheartedly suggested we go try out the combat system, but I’d just shrugged. The excitement I’d felt for the game’s release had been replaced by a cold, leeching dread.

What if I tried dying?

“You can’t log out either, can you?”

A voice made him look up. Two more players stood in front of him. A girl with short, dark purple hair plopped down on the steps, visibly fuming. Her long staff and dark blue robes meant she was a mage or some kind of spellcaster.

“This is BS.” she snapped.

The other player with her smiled apologetically at Lorson and I, before sitting down next to her.

“We’ll figure it out, Kaia,” he said gently. His heavy armor, golden hair, and broadsword marked him as some sort of tank, probably a paladin. “We’ve already sent a troubleshoot request, we just need to wait.”

He sat down next to the girl in the blue robes, giving them an apologetic smile.

I glanced above his head, the name there was “Edun”.

“I was supposed to video chat with some friends tonight, but the stupid NPCs say I can’t log out!” Kaia snapped. “What the hell are the “qualifications for logging out”? What does that even mean?!”

“I’d be happy to explain, miss.”

We all looked up to see a generic human player standing a few feet away. I frowned. His player name and HP bar weren’t visible, which I didn’t even think was possible.

“And who the hell are you?” Kaia sneered.

The man smiled. He had a kind, if not generic face. “My name is Adrius. I’m the reason you’ll all be staying in this game, for the foreseeable future.”

[victuurikatsu]

I was tagged by @katzuyas to participate in a few tag games, I’m still building my portfolio and hope this motivates me to continue creating for the rest of the year! First game up! 

to post the last sentence from a wip,

“Now it appeared that he had his sights set on one Katsuki Yuuri, and Yakov knew it would be futile to stop whatever it was that was blossoming.”

This is a sentence from my culinary AU WIP On My Love: Katsudon! Chapter 3 is slowly trudging on, I could not meet my schedule the way I wanted to, but the update is coming soon! 

WIP title meme game

The Rules: Post the names of all the files in your WIP folder, regardless of how non-descriptive or ridiculous. Pick out the title that most intrigues you, or interests you and I’ll post a little snippet of it or tell you something about it!

The Paladin & The Sorcerer (DnD AU)

A Christmas Vitya (A Christmas Prince AU)

In Your Eyes I See Beauty (Beauty Blogger AU)

By Daylight, You’re Gone 

Yuuri!!! On Culinary

The Softest Valentines Collab (Top secret, can’t tell you nothing!)

I’ve been working on In Your Eyes I See Beauty all day today, thanks to a wonderful prompt idea birthed by Tati in the @wewritevictuuri Discord server that I am gifting to her once completed. I’m very soft for what’s to come and here’s a little snippet, it will be on AO3 hopefully soon. 

Each beauty video had the same signature flair, Viktor’s hair would start off in a bun, he’d wave a salutation to his followers and wink. If the video was centralized around makeup he would showcase a new palette from another company who begged for the exposure. When his looks were complete, he would pose in different angles for the camera much to everyone’s delight.

“Ah what mask will they enjoy next?” Viktor wonders as he wipes away the product to expose his bare skin.

Sometimes he adores the product, other times they’re complete trash and he runs to the nearest spa to try to alleviate the damage with a facial.

If the video was centralized around hair, he would gently pull at the hair tie holding his luscious silver locks in, a waterfall of silver falls and dazzles. It’d been amazing that he was able to maintenance it for so long. He couldn’t rant about how annoying it was to ensure there was no knots, that his ends weren’t split or dead, that he used just enough product to make sure it stayed shiny and soft.

And Viktor knew there was a whole world of people who wanted to rush their hands through it.

It’d gone on this way for months and his subscribers kept piling in. Endorsements and partners scrambled in to get a cut of the beauty guru King himself, and while that part afforded him the best quality of product and lifestyle, it was starting to get lonelier the higher and higher he rose.

One day, while doing his morning face mask routine, Viktor had decided to go through his email, stumbling upon a message marked: WE GOTTA TALK ABOUT YOUR NAILS. At first he thought it was spam but being curious by nature he clicked on it and scoured through the message from a fan.

They stated as usual how they loved his content but they noticed as much as all of his other features were taken care of, noticeably his fingernails were left in the dust. They even included a close up screenshot of Viktor holding onto a foundation bottle, signs of ragged and bitten nails displayed.

Truthfully, he enjoyed a good mani/pedi but he was often forgetful and had an awful habit of biting his nails that would destroy the treatment in less than a day.

Then they made a plea for him to check out another bloggers work. They never showed their face on screen but the nail art spoke for itself and it just so happened that they ran a series dedicated to the looks Viktor would create.

“He’s an amazing nail artist but enjoys his privacy. His series Nikiforov Inspired Nails made me think AHH THEY SHOULD ABSOLUTELY COLLABORATE. Please consider it!” The email concluded.

Pasted at the end of the email was the link to the aforementioned beauty bloggers work. A world of color flashed before Viktor’s eyes, different variants of nail art in both style and length displayed. The camera angle this artist Katsuki Yuuri seemed to work with was always filming from the neck down. The most amazing part was he was able to complete both hands flawlessly every time.

He clicked on the Nikiforov Inspired Nails series, seeing posts marked close to the beginning of his debut as a beauty blogger. So he was aware of him! How had Viktor not been aware of him? The series highlighted the different styles Viktor tried out, embellishing colors of gold and fuchsia seemed to be in every other video.

Then he stopped at a particular video where Yuuri created nail art based on a winter prince theme Viktor had done. He was absolutely captivated by his technique, captivated by the way his hands moved and created, and he realized he wanted him to salvage his nail beds, and hopefully unveil his identity.

Viktor scrolled to the contact info for Yuuri, hands flourishing over the keyboard as he wrote, “Loved your Nikiforov series. How about we do a special video where you get to work on me exclusively? Talk soon, xx”

First Sentences Game

Rules: list the first lines of your last ten published stories. note if there are any patterns yourself and see if anyone else notices any! tag ten friends!

I did a splurge of new material for Vitya Week so that is where 85% of this list is going to come from, I’ll also link to the original post xD

Victor never had issues with falling asleep. (Prompt #83 for WWV) 

Traveling far and wide was all a part of being an internationally renown figure skater, it was even more imperative when one was a five-time champion. (Day 7 for Vitya Week: Home)

“Promise to watch me closely okay?” Victor said, his back to Yuuri as he glanced over intently. (Day 6 for Vitya Week: Graceful Performer)

It had taken a few weeks for the rest of Yuuri’s belongings to ship from Japan to Russia, and he was just so tired of looking at stacked cardboard boxes that he enlisted Victor’s help to declutter everything  (Day 4 for Vitya Week: Hair Style)

30 years, what a feat it was to make it this far.  (Day 3 for Vitya Week: Happy Birthday Vitya!)

Yuuri couldn’t get to St. Petersburg fast enough, at least that’s how it felt in Victor’s mind. (New Life & Love: Shenanigans in St. Petersburg)

Traditions were something Victor never followed through with before.  (We Call Everything On Ice, Love)

Yuuri generally never gets up early because of his night owl tendencies, but when he does he soaks up as much as he can. (A soft Victuuri morning drabble)

I was just thinking, what must have happened that evening after Yuuri said he wanted to retire? (Barcelona Wreckage Drabble)

Hands shaking, Yuuri opened up his laptop and immediately scanned for the record button off of his YouTube channel interface. (Chapter 1 of OMLK)

I’m interested to see if you guys spot patterns on how I start my stories. I definitely thrive on prompts, and on a good day I can put out drabbles that can either warm or destroy your heart. 

This was so much fun! I’m tagging the following people to join in or not, either way I’m terribly excited to be creating and watching you all create!: @savedbythenotepad @japansace @sweet-vitya @everymanwillbeaking @iwritebetterthanispeak @postingpebbles @e-de-mimsy @stammiviktor

[runningwolf62]

@wardencommanderrodimiss is at work, post fic!

Part 1

Larry doesn’t think about Warrior Cats for a long time. Well he does, he occasionally checks up on his favorite characters on the wiki and remembers them with nostalgia, and occasionally misses XxWolfDragonxX but he’s got other things to worry about. Other things, like girls and Phoenix and art and finding a job.

It’s Miles, again, who drives him to fanfiction. “Prosecutor Edgeworth choses death.” What the actual fuck man? Larry’s had three beers too many and is laying on his couch, ready to bawl his eyes out all over again, because he thought they’d gotten him back. They’d laid his father to rest. It was everything kid Larry had wanted, hell he’d written an entire fanfic to deal with what he didn’t think he’d ever be able to have.

The memory of the fanfiction drives him to stumble to the computer and open his old fanfiction account. It takes like five minutes, he can barely remember the password and he’s too drunk to type it right.

He has some messages, what the fuck. Apparently people send you spam mail to join their forums now? There’s an ancient message that makes him blink back tears.

“You okay?” It’s a simple question but it’s from XxWolfDragonxX about a month after his last update. God he feels guilty about that, he just vanished on him.

He wonders whatever happened to the guy, and then cracks open his old fic.

He’s drunk enough to not feel much shame for it, but it’s bad. The plot is all over the place, and he cringes each time he writes in and then writes out a girlfriend. And man, oh man, now he can really see how Firebirdpaw could be gay for Sharppaw. He saw it in person too.

Before he knows it he’s writing again, sloppily, drunkenly, but he’s pouring out his grief for Miles, for what they had gotten back but never gotten to truly recover.

Larry wakes up to pain in his head and cheek. The head is from his hangover. The cheek is because he passed out on his keyboard.

He groans, and stumbles off to go take care of his hungover ass, and eventually several hours, Advil and glasses of water later he returns to his computer.

Okay whoever said “write drunk, edit sober” was a lying asshole because while Drunk Larry thought he was a poetic genius, Sober Larry thinks Drunk Larry was a dumbass. A cat walking over the keyboard could write better.

In some places it looks like that’s what happened. He runs a hand through his hair and sets about typing it all up again.

He stops to eat, to drink, to call Phoenix, to make sure he’s still alive. Phoenix is apparently pinballing around the denial and anger steps, Larry tries to help as best he can.

As for himself, he grieves the same way he did fifteen years ago. He doesn’t want to think about that, how long it’s been or that he’s getting old, instead, he plots and rewrites and overhauls the entire thing.

He, Sharppaw, and Firebirdpaw are apprentices of SpiritClan, founded by Spiritstar. He feels that’s a fitting name for Mia. Her younger sister is Cherrypaw, and together the four of them are going to be something great.

And then Sharppaw’s father is killed, and he vanishes. This is where Larry begins to tweak things, making Von Karma the leader of a group of rogues, determined to bring the Clan down, and raising Sharppaw as his son to do so, also using his knowledge of the Clan to ensure its destruction.

Spiritstar and her apprentice Firebirdpaw (he refuses to change the name he’s attached to it now) begin to investigate, refusing to give up, both deeply disturbed by what had happened in their Clan.

He slows down as he makes progress, before forcing himself to finish. He keeps Wolf, the rogue, he can’t write out XxWolfDragonxX not even after all this time. He has some information on the rogue group that puts Firebirdpaw and Orangepaw on the right path.

They find the rogue group, and Sharppaw, now Demon. It takes work, but with time they make him remember who he truly is, and he sides with the two of them and SpiritClan to take down the evil leader.

The last they see of him is him giving chase to one of the leader’s generals, the cat Larry made Gant.

-

“Firebirdpaw!” Orangepaw leapt forward, staring at the tom, who’s orange spiky fur seemed even more ruffled than before, “Where’s Demon?”

The tom stared at him with a hollow look in his yellow eyes, “gone. He didn’t wait for me when chasing the rogues and…”

They both gazed into the woods and where they could hear the last of the fighting, and Orangepaw’s chest tightened, “he’ll come back. We’ll- he’ll come home and we’ll all be made warriors.”

Firebirdpaw let out a small noise, and then nodded, and sat down, as though to wait for Sharppaw again. Orangepaw sat next to him, and waited. They waited until Spiritstar came to get them and drag them home.

-

He goes through the like 50,000 words that he wrote in two weeks adding notes like “I know it’s been nine years since I posted anything, here’s an entire massive rewrite. I cleaned up a lot and tightened up the plot” –stole events from his life—“and fixed a lot of the names and things but some of the weirder ones I’m keeping, too attached” and “Wolf is a nod to an old friend, and of course cats can be gay.”

He posts it as one massive fic, like 25 chapters at once and then goes, lays down, and sobs.

He leaves it be for a while, he’s not ready to face reviews for it just yet, instead, he showers, pulls himself together, calls Phoenix, drags him out into public, ignoring the way how even two weeks later storm clouds seem to billow around Phoenix.

He only remembers to check when he gets home, dropping into his chair, and took a deep breath.

There’s a surprising number of reviews, apparently dropping a huge fic was the way to go? Several people have reviewed multiple chapters. One or two remark on Firebirdpaw or Spiritstar’s names but most are just enjoying the fic. There’s a lot of screaming towards the end.

His heart squeezes in his chest at a review in all caps “OKAY BUT DEMON’S FINE RIGHT? THERE WAS NO BODY HE’S FINE” and Larry wishes to any and every god, harder than he’s ever wished for anything including a date to the prom, that it worked that way. He blinks and reaches up to rub away a tear or two.

People’s comments on the “unnecessary feelings” line makes him laugh.

“Look,” he mumbled to himself, still amused, “it’s not my fault he actually said shit like that okay?”

He starts responding to the nicer people, thanking them for reviews, not able to address yet the questions about Demon’s death. As he’s responding he notices that his review count is rising.

He opens it and the first thing he sees causes his mood to pull a sharp 180.

The review is in all caps, on the first chapter and is a single sentence. “DUDE WHAT THE HELL?”

It’s the username though, that makes him laugh out loud, because XxWolfDragonxX is back, and apparently reading the entire fic. He grins, and clicks on a button to respond.

“I’M SO SORRY, HOW HAVE YOU BEEN?” he types, ready to pick up an old friendship, because right now he could use it.

[vankoya]

Extra Cheese, Please!

✽ Read the indecorous follow-up piece, Less Cheese, More Please!

Genre | Best Friends to Lovers / Housemates AU.

Pairing | Jeon Jeongguk / Feminine Reader.

Words | 9,524 words.

Conspectus | Jeongguk dislikes three things: 1. Having his Overwatch marathon nights interrupted, 2. Dealing with drunk people while he is sober, and 3. Cheesy ramyeon. His best friend slash housemate slash insufferable crush is the drunk girl with an incessant craving for super cheesy ramyeon who interrupts his Overwatch marathon night, and ultimately proves that the aforementioned meal looks just as gross coming up than it does when it is first in the bowl. 

Luckily, there is always a silver lining. Even in the worst of situations.

Warnings | Swearing. Alcohol. Vomiting as a result of being overly drunk. Sexual innuendos. Fondling. Jeongguk cannot deal with cleavage.

Jeongguk guesses that it is nearing one in the morning when his phone buzzes four times in succession. The vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart against his balls, which is where the device has slipped down to nestle over the course of the past eight minutes.

He knows he should probably reach between his thighs and retrieve it to check the slew of texts that tickle his dick through a pair of grey sweatpants. He is also ninety-nine percent positive that he knows precisely who the sender is. But the military bomb payload is that fucking close to being at the Deadlock Gang’s cave hideout, just having passed Checkpoint B, and Jeongguk is quite possibly playing his best Escort game since he planted his sweet ass on the living room couch. The four instant ramyeon packets that he inhaled at eight o’clock are still burning off in his system. Well-needed fuel for a long, uninterrupted night of Overwatch.

Well, the chances of that peaceful gaming occurring were narrowed to considerably slim once a certain someone had slipped out of her bedroom and announced she was going out for cocktails. She had managed to breeze through the front door before Jeongguk could really have enough of an opportunity to stare at her magnificent ass in those jeans. But if his calculations were correct, he has made it through a solid five hours of tranquility so far.

When he sees the attacking team’s Lucio put up a sound barrier, Jeongguk cannot help but blast a grin of victory. He unleashes his McCree’s deadeye, obliterating the entire team. There is a triumphant shout that is echoed amongst his own teammates, and he nearly throws his goddamn PS4 controller at the television when he fist-pumps the air out of excitement. Through the headset, Yugyeom makes a comment amongst his hooting along the lines of: “McCree, that OP motherfucker!” while Jeongguk spams McCree’s: “I’m the quick, you’re the dead,” voice line over and over in the final seconds that the payload reaches its destination and the game comes to a close.

Earning play of the game was expected after the shit he pulled last minute. Though Jeongguk finds himself surprised when he gets ten votes out of the twelve players, considering the opposing team is currently shouting a stream of insults. Because yeah, McCree is overpowered as fuck. But the sheer laziness in him cannot bear the thought of having to train up on a different hero, at this stage.

“I’m out,” Jeongguk announces to Yugyeom as he reaches down to grab his phone, beginning to vibrate against his balls again due to his lack of response. Yugyeom laughs, the connection slightly static.

“Gotta get your girlfriend, huh?“

“Fuck you, not my girlfriend,” Jeongguk barks before exiting the main screen, albeit with a tiny smile, and then shifts his headset to sit around his neck. When he clicks the home button of his phone, he is greeted by a screen lit up with eight notifications, confirming two things.

It is definitely past one in the morning, and it is definitely who he was expecting to be.

Jeongguk gets his heart stuck in his throat, bites his tongue and stupidly grins at the last text that was sent, chest tight at the thought of her missing him. He can picture that dumbass drunk smile of her’s so clearly; a sight that he has seen enough times to have it burned into the very cells of his brain. It is the one thing that is beyond fucking adorable when paired with her glassy eyes, staring roundly at him while she perches that amazing ass on his lap. Right on the zipper of his jeans so that the jagged metal presses right against his dick and– Fuck, too far.

He chances a glance at his sweatpants and yeah, shit, he is a little bit hard now. Jeongguk slaps himself, firm enough to properly wake up from his unexpectedly lascivious daze, and then he quickly punches in his passcode.

He sputters and incredulously shakes his head, running a hand through his hair because hell yeah, she is a twelve alright. More than that even, a hundred in his books, if numbers had to define her. Maybe Jeongguk should not think such thoughts about his best friend of seven years slash university flatmate of two. But then again, her attractiveness is common knowledge amongst their friends and all those alike who encounter her. As clear as the sky is blue and the grass is green. Simply, Jeongguk is just confirming the obvious and nothing more than that.

Yeah, definitely nothing more than that. Totally still not semi-hard over the thought of her drunk smile, of all the boner-inducing things about her.

Before he can text her back, the theme song to Legend of Zelda is filtering through the living room and the ugliest photo he has of her is appearing blown up on the screen. The image is one that is zoomed right in on her face from where she breaches the ocean, pixelated by the added effect of it being a screenshot. The fast motion of her coming up after a wave had crushed her makes it appear as though her face is being dragged down by gravity; mouth parted in a gasp; completely wet hair plastered to her scalp, and presented at such an angle that she looks bald. 

It is fucking hideous. Jeongguk had laughed so hard that he peed himself a little the first time he noticed it in one of the snapshots that he had taken on his DLSR at the beach that day, and he never let her live it down. But they did come to a mutual agreement to not allow such a monstrosity to be released to the general public on an unfortunate Facebook birthday post, or as a tactic for revenge. Otherwise, Jeongguk would similarly be having a picture of himself exposed as far as the eye can see. The one where he is slumped backwards over their coffee table, blacked out and wearing nothing but a pair of her pretty pink panties, the tip of his sad and soft dick poking out the leg hole.

Jeongguk stares at the caller ID photo a moment longer, eyes watering with hilarity before he swipes his finger across the screen to answer with, “Well, well, if it isn’t–“

“Th–The sexiest motherfucker you know?” slurs through the other end of the line, nearly drowned out by the commotion she most likely sits cross-eyed within. “Who s’about to be joined by a much less sexy motherfucker, hmm?”

“Let me guess,” Jeongguk runs his tongue over his teeth, unhooking the headset from his neck and placing it on the coffee table, “I’m the less sexy motherfucker?” he says as he reaches for the remote to turn off the television.

“Ding ding, ten points to Gryffindor,” she whoops and giggles, and god, Jeongguk melts a little as he stands up but definitely not because he thinks her intoxicated laughter sounds fucking adorable. No way. “Y’gonna come collect the goods?”

He stuffs his feet into a battered pair of Vans and reaches for his black parka, looking like a damn slob and all with nothing but a dark shirt and his grey sweats underneath. He has no plans to stay longer than absolutely necessary at the bar, anyway. “I can’t think of any goods I need to collect,” Jeongguk sighs, swiping his house keys and wallet from the dish atop the entry cabinet and making way towards the front door. “A drunken mess that unfortunately so happens to be my best friend sounds more accurate.”

“At leas’ she’s got a great ass!” she defends herself, Jeongguk mentally agrees, then literally has to slap himself across the face again for focusing too long on the mental image of it, which he has copied in high-definition into his memory. Her voice becomes distant from the speaker, shouts out, “No you may not touch it, fuckin’ perv! Go piss in yo’ girly fuckin’ Cosmopolitan, yeah?!”

“Please don’t get yourself killed before I get there,” Jeongguk raises his voice a little in hopes of her hearing over the music. A smidgen of the tension that is suddenly squeezing at his chest is released when he hears her indignant huff right against the speaker. “I’m gonna be pissed if I walk all that way just to find you’re dead.”

“It’s like, one kilometre tops, pussy,” she retorts, the eye roll practically audible as Jeongguk locks the front door and then heads down the hallway to the elevator. “A light jog’ll get you here in what, five minutes. So start runnin’, boy.”

“Fuck no. I’m hanging up. Stay alive.” He mutters, punching repeatedly at the elevator button as if it will make the doors open faster. 

Distantly, he wonders why he is in such a goddamn rush. He narrows it down to just wanting to get back home again as soon as humanly possible; to return to his disturbed Overwatch marathon. Yeah, of course that is why.

“Thanks babe, you th’ best!” she sings, hangs up before he can, and Jeongguk jams his finger against the button with a greater ferocity until the elevator dings open after what feels to be centuries of waiting. (It was not even thirty seconds.)

He ends up speedily jogging the entire way to the bar to build up his blood circulation because it is cold as tits outside, of course. Definitely not because it means he will get to see her sooner, make sure she is safe and sound and not being leered at by some drunken, creepy lecher.

Nope. No way at all.

They say that there is always a silver lining to every unfortunate and downright dreadful situation. Jeongguk is currently wondering where the fuck such lining happens to be once he finally finds a particular girl that he was forced and threatened to brave the cold in order to collect, only to be met by the pout that she knows gets him all pliable and willing. He does not know it yet, but the silver lining is still coming. Slowly, gradually, but it will.

Even if, right now, that shit seems as likely as getting a blow job from Beyonce.

“How much?” he shouts to be heard over the pounding music, repeats for the second time because he refuses to believe the sum that the bartender first announced. 

At Jeongguk’s hip slouches the self-proclaimed goods. The treacherous best friend, who keeps having to be hiked up by his arm curled tightly around her waist since her bones liquefied by liquor are failing to keep her standing. She has that goofy smile pulling at her plush lips, and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to slap from her face, or to kiss it away instead.

The bartender checks the amount again, then leans towards Jeongguk with a somewhat empathetic expression to call back, “Rounded to one hundred and eighty-four dollars.”

On the inside, Jeongguk might be crying a little. Funny how the reason behind his internal agony is also the same thing that is keeping him slightly sane through his mental calculations of how much money he has left in his bank account. Pressed against his side with an intoxicated, unfocused gaze that stares up at him too endearingly for him to be one hundred percent angry. He is at ninety-nine point nine-nine percent. Okay, maybe on the cusp of no less than ninety percent. Goddamn.

“I’m letting you go for a second,” Jeongguk warns her and begins to slowly recede his arm, giving her enough time to support herself on the bar. Rather than doing this, she wraps her own arms around his waist and nestles under his armpit.

In any other situation than the apparent one, where he has to aid his best friend’s spontaneous cocktail night with his own miserable funds, Jeongguk would be fighting to tame the glee. The kind that would be demanding to tuck her closer, and perhaps press his nose to the crown of her head so he can breathe in the soft scent of her vanilla shampoo. Unfortunately, no matter how much he wills himself to be dreaming that his weekly budget is about to be kicked repeatedly in the balls and that maybe, instead, they are just at home on the couch and it is one of those movie nights where she gets extra cuddly for no apparent reason, Jeongguk is still stuck in the apparent situation.

He glares at his tormenter, who continues to latch like a lock around his body, and barely manages to keep his tears from falling as he retrieves his wallet and flips it open, fingers shaky. An extra tug is required from the bartender to loosen the measly grip Jeongguk’s fingertips have on his debit card when he hands it over.

“Girlfriend?” The bartender politely chips in as he swipes the card through the eftpos machine and then faces the keypad towards Jeongguk. As Jeongguk punches in the pin number, the bartender darts his gaze up to him with a raised eyebrow. “Ex-girlfriend?”

“Neither, and I don’t know if that makes it better or worse,” Jeongguk smiles, the kind that conveys his immense internal suffering. The bartender gives a sympathetic nod and hands back Jeongguk’s card before rushing off to continue serving drinks.

The latest, monstrous attachment on Jeongguk’s side squeezes him with her feeble, jelly-drunk arms. Albeit the situation, something softens inside of him when he grabs her chin so that she will properly face him. She blinks languidly like an overtired kitten, mascara smudged beneath her eyes, lipstick smeared a little on her chin. Not in the way that suggests somebody else had their mouth on her own. It is definitely the familiar mark caused by the back of her hand rubbing against her lips after taking a shot. Jeongguk is still weighing up whether he prefers the latter to the former.

“‘m tired, Jeonggukie,” she whines, slumps closer to him, and he wraps his arm around her waist again, hoisting her up with a displeased sound.

“All that talk about wanting me to have a drink with you, and now you’re making me pay the bill and run?” Jeongguk teasingly chides, and she unabashedly nods against his right pectoral. Alarm bells start ringing in his head when her weight against his side grows a tad too close to the ‘falling unconscious’ side of the spectrum. “Woah, hey– No. Don’t you dare fall asleep on me, ___. You still have to walk home.”

She hooks her chin on his shoulder and conjures that goofy, heart-melting grin that has Jeongguk crying a little on the inside, because he is such an absolute sucker for her. In that moment, her pout becomes the bane of his existence as she says, “Jus’ carry me, yeah?”

“Hell fucking no.”

Jeongguk carries her on his back the entire damn way.

By the time they reach the front door of their apartment, Jeongguk’s knees are weakly trembling and he feels utterly winded. Maybe it is a sign that he needs to get back into the gym on the weekends instead of indulging Yugyeom with Overwatch marathons. Or, more favourably, he needs to find a new best friend who will not 1. have him pay for her expensive, alcoholic ways, and then 2. make him piggyback her through the bitter cold night while she is practically deadweight against his shoulders in her partially asleep state.

“For someone who was calling me a pussy because I couldn’t be bothered walking to the bar, you’re awfully hypocritical in riding my back the whole way home,” Jeongguk says, gasping a little, jiggling the key in the lock and bustling them both inside once the latch clicks.

She clambers off his back, staggers slightly, and then catches herself on the back of the couch. Miraculously, she appears minutely more sober than she was twenty minutes ago. “Could’ve got an Uber.”

Jeongguk kicks off his shoes. “What, and paid him with the moths flying out of my wallet?”

She shrugs. “It would’ve cos’ like, three dollars.”

“That three dollars is lasting us until next Thursday, thanks to a certain someone who just made me blow my pay that I only got four days ago,” he hisses, sliding out of his jacket and hanging it over one of the dining table chairs.

And there it is again. That silly little grin tugging softly at her lips as she wiggles her hips against the couch. Strategically, Jeongguk briskly turns on his heel and strides into the kitchen before she can get her nails in him. Moulding him like the pathetic putty that he is. He can practically hear her pout when he ignores her blatant attempt at melting down his cold facade. Then, her heels unsteadily click across the vinyl flooring to watch him pull out a saucepan and fill it halfway with water, positioning it on the largest hotplate.

Jeongguk does not cast his eyes her way, even if every inch of his body, particularly his dick, is demanding that he do so. Because holy eight-pound six-ounce sweet baby Jesus in his cradle of hay, he did not notice in the dim lighting of the bar, but she is wearing a black v-cut sweater that exposes her shoulders and collarbones and a barely there shadow of cleavage. That, in itself, is saying something since her tits are a size that would fit neatly in his palms without any overflow. Just a nice, small and cute handful. God, he has never seen her with even a hint of cleavage like this before. This is unchartered territory that he has no idea of how to face, especially when he can barely cope with the sight of her amazing ass in any kind of legwear.

Jeongguk, staring blankly at the packet ramyeon in his hands, mentally forces himself not to get fucking hard like a teenage boy in the middle of their goddamn kitchen.

“What’cha doin’, good lookin’?” she hums, now perched on a breakfast bar stool with the side of her face mashed into the heel of her palm, elbow propped up on the kitchen counter. In his periphery, those small, adorable breasts spill from the v-neck onto the white laminate as a result of her slouched over position. Every single one of his nerve-endings is aflame.

Jeongguk releases the air trapped tightly in his lungs and then proceeds to make way towards the slowly simmering pot of water. He dares not a single glance at her, for the fabric of his sweatpants leaves little to the imagination, and she has definitely recognised a semi in them before.

“I’m making you something to eat since you always get hungry after drinking. Also, because I’m the greatest best friend that this world could’ve ever graced you with.” Jeongguk’s eyes are glued to his hands as he begins tearing into the packets. He dumps the dehydrated noodles and seasonings into the water, and desperately tries not to think about how sweet her tits would look in his hands. Praying that she takes the bait, he adds on as an afterthought, “Why don’t you get changed into something comfortable, and the food will be ready when you are?”

There is a pause, a moment where Jeongguk’s tongue pulses like a heart in his mouth, and he tries not to break into a nervous sweat. He can practically hear his own words clicking into place in her mind; connecting, disconnecting, reconnecting; fumbling through the drunken haze that still lays thick on her thought process. Twenty seconds pass, and he ends up so on edge that when she slaps her open palm against the countertop, he startles so abruptly that he rips open a seasoning packet with the ferocity of a gorilla. Beef flavouring bursts over his shirt and the stovetop in a cloud of brown dust.

“I shall go do that,” she announces. Jeongguk, going from nearly hyperventilating out of surprise to having a coughing fit from inhaling seasoning particles, sees her slither like a lizard off the stool out of his watering periphery. Except drunk, and with a goddamn, freshly fucking harvested cleavage.

He only lets a tear roll down his cheek once she has staggered down the hallway. This is Jeon Jeongguk, at the ripe age of twenty-three, accepting that he may die tonight.

Despite this possibility, he goes about cleaning up the spilled beef flavouring, saving as much of it as he can and depositing it in the simmering pot. The ramyeon-making itself goes rather smoothly. He manages to not spill the boiling water all over himself, nor accidentally rub his eyes after touching the chilli sauce like he did that one, hellish time that rendered him blind for just under three hours. He stirs the noodle broth and listens to her clomp around her bedroom, the occasional grunt and groan emitting when she cracks her hip against her desk, or whacks her shoulder against the frame of her walk-in closet.

She remerges in an acceptably less boner-inducing outfit. Consisting of one of his black hoodies that nearly reaches her knees, and assumedly (he prays, at least) a pair of unseeable boyshorts underneath. Jeongguk starts straining the ramyeon into a bowl.

“That’s mine,” he says about the hoodie while she clambers back onto the stool, looking soft and cuddly in her bundle of cotton and fleece. Her attire may not be as threatening to his vulnerable dick, but it is definitely as murderous to his weakened heart.

“Finders keepers, losers are weepers,” she immediately fires back, settling into her previous palm-smushed-against-face position, waiting for him to finish plating up the ramyeon. “Dun’ forget the cheese, either.”

At that, his whole body shudders with repulsion. For the first time since the growth of her cleavage was made apparent, Jeongguk faces her directly and hopes that the sheer suffering she puts him through is perfectly translated through his withered expression when he says, “You are disgusting,” before opening the fridge anyway and retrieving the container of pre-sliced easy-melt. “I will never understand how you can perform such sacrilege against the two holiest foods by combining them into the edible-equivalent of Hell.”

“Excuse you, cheesy ramyeon is the best gift this world has given us.” She frowns at the ceiling, thinks this over for a moment, and then corrects herself with, “Has given me, since I’m the best gift this world has ever given you.”

Jeongguk merely chuckles, does not deny it, because one may call him a deadset liar if he were to do so. Instead, he peels two slices of cheese out of the container and places them atop the bowl of steaming ramyeon, pressing them down with a fork so that they melt faster. 

She makes an iffy little sound, somewhat of a whine, and says, “Extra cheese, please!”

“You’ll make yourself feel sick,” he warns, yet all she does is glare adorably at him until he caves like the weak man that he is and adds an extra two squares. A thought itches at the back of his mind, informing him that he is most likely going to regret this, and he brushes it away just as quickly as it forms. Under that beguiling gaze of hers, she could ask Jeongguk to stick chopsticks up his ass and impersonate a popsicle and he would.

An over-exaggeration, but you get the point.

“Alright, one extra cheesy ramyeon for the drunk girl with disgusting taste in food,” Jeongguk declares, reaching across the counter to place the dairy-laden bowl in front of her before grabbing her hand, putting the fork in her open palm and forcibly curling her fingers around it with his own. He holds her hand a moment longer than necessary between his own, grinning tightly, remaining to ignore the voice that is now screeching in his head that feeding her this is a very, very bad idea. “Bon appétit,” he finalises, and the deal is done.

She smiles up at him, eyes shining and all of her teeth on display. Jeongguk wonders what wars he must have ended in his past life to be rewarded with this girl of starlight and vanilla and honey who winds around him, softens him into warm and easy. Before he can further dwell on such a tender thought, she shovels a grotesque forkful of cheesy ramyeon into her mouth.

“Tfhanksh Jeonguffie,” she says around the stickiness, and Jeongguk, now the perfect picture of nonchalance, wordlessly turns on his heel and begins to clean up the dishes. Anything, really, to distract himself from projecting the small amount of vomit that has lurched up to the back of his throat at the horrendous meal making contact with those lips that deserve so much better.

Minutes slowly go by, stretching past two in the morning and beginning to progress towards quarter-past. Besides the sickening slurps that she makes behind him, and the clattering of the saucepan with a handful of dirty dishes from his own dinner being washed in the sink, no conversation is made, and it is comfortable. These moments are precisely why Jeongguk has not risked it yet; asking her the big question; the determiner as to whether their best friendship will advance into something more. If she were to deny him, he believes he would be able to handle it, but he knows well that such knowledge would be on her mind every time she looks his way. The awkward tension would ensue, she would overanalyse his every move, and he would become distant because he does not want her to get the wrong idea. They would anticipate the day that the lease on their apartment runs out so they can go their separate ways as soon as possible.

So, he keeps quiet and basks in the contentment that they have created together in their little home. At the end of the day, she is his best friend, and he could not imagine a future without her in it. No matter if they were romantically involved, or purely platonic. Sure, he would love to kiss her collarbones and put his hands on her hips and maybe – just maybe – tell her that he loves her in the morning glow of a lazy Sunday, whispered across the pillowcases. But he can live without that. He can be a big boy about it and move on.

He keeps telling himself this, at least. Soon, he will genuinely be convinced that he can do it.

“Jeongguk.”

“Mmm,” he hums in response, turning around when her follow-up is delayed, and he instantly notices how her expression has suddenly transformed.

Honestly, Usain Bolt could not even compare to how fast his ass moves. Jeongguk skirts around the kitchen counter, pulls her off the stool, and hastily guides her towards the sink while cursing under his breath.

“I feel…” she mumbles as Jeongguk takes out the plug and then gathers her hair up as well as he can manage, holding it in a loose bun at the crown of her head and cringing when her torso slightly convulses. “Like I’m gonna– Ugh–“

“Oh my god.”

Jeongguk swears he did not make her that much cheesy ramyeon. But dear fucking lord, the sheer amount that comes up and splashes into the sink is simply horrifying. The noodles must have expanded in her stomach for such an extensive volume to now be regurgitated in disgusting, yellow chunks that make his own stomach turn with wooziness. He cannot believe he thought cheesy ramyeon looked bad in the bowl, because it is appearing to be at least ten times worse in the form of barf.

“You owe me– Ugh, christ– So big after tonight, you little shit,” Jeongguk grunts at her between clenched teeth and gags when he gets a whiff of the stench. Like over-fermented dairy left out in the sun for weeks, doused in a hefty helping of vodka.

The sound she makes is awful when the next heave is unleashed onto the stainless steel, and she reaches one hand back from where it is braced on the counter to weakly pat his stomach. When she shakily murmurs, “I’ll give you the best blow of your life as thanks,” Jeongguk has to bite the wet, fleshy inner of his cheek to stop the visualisation of her words from drowning his mind until it is all he can think about.

“Don’t talk about sucking my dick while you’re vomiting,” he groans with a small tilt to the corners of his lips despite himself, collecting a loose strand of hair that is falling dangerously close to her mouth. She halfheartedly laughs before another surge of cheesy ramyeon makes its departure from her body, and Jeongguk dry-heaves in perfect synchronisation.

By the time the contents of her belly have been completely and utterly expelled, Jeongguk is admittedly feeling much weaker in the stomach than he was before her bout of throwing up. Especially after having to wash it down the drain. Once there is not an inch of cheesy noodles in sight, he gingerly carries her bridal-style into their shared bathroom and props her up on the sink, one hand on her waist to keep her steady and the other reaching for her toothbrush. 

Jeongguk bites his lip to hide his smile when she leans forward and rests her forehead on his chest while he squeezes out a line of toothpaste. He wets the brush a little under the tap, and then takes her chin like he had back in the club, lifting it up so that he can see her sleepy, downright adorable face. Seriously, who looks this cute after vomiting up their breakfast, lunch, dinner, and all of the vodka sloshed in between?

“Open your mouth,” Jeongguk says, moving his fingers so they can squeeze her cheeks and make her lips pout like a fish. His heart weeps like the pathetic thing that it is at the sight.

She waggles her eyebrows to the best of her ability in her sobering, exhausted state. “What’re you going to put in there?”

“Not my dick, unfortunately for you,” Jeongguk chuckles, holding up the toothbrush, and she sighs loudly with faux disappointment. Well, he thinks she is joking. Surely she is.

Obediently, she opens her mouth. Jeongguk abruptly shoves the toothbrush in there and starts scrubbing at her pearly whites before he can think of the way she looks with her lipstick-smudged lips parted so obscenely like that.

His brain is the epitome of a keyboard smash.

It only glitches all the more when Jeongguk gradually comes to realise the entire position that they are both in; taking him over like a virus. His non-brushing hand still cups her small jaw. Glitch. Her bare thighs brush against his hips as she lightly swings her feet. Glitch. She blatantly stares at him, eyes half-lidded and looking like melted butter. Error: Jeon Jeongguk is no longer computing.

At least he can thank all of the deities that she is no longer wearing the Cleavage Sweater of Jeongguk’s Absolute Demise. Otherwise, he would have a bird’s eye view of the goods in question, and he, undoubtedly, would be a dead man.

Before he can linger on the dangerous thought of her small breasts while he is at this high-risk proximity, she makes a distressed gurgling sound. A sliver of Jeongguk’s sanity returns to him and he realises that toothpaste is spilling out of her mouth and onto his hand. With a panicked yelp, he yanks the toothbrush out of her mouth and she hurries to swivel around and spit out the accumulated mass of minty foam into the sink.

“Jesus H. Christ, Jeon,” she rasps, coughing once and wiping her mouth on the back of her hand. Her glare is watery and suspicious. “Were you trying to drown me? Imagine that. Death by toothpaste.”

He sputters, swallowing down laughter. “Shit, sorry, I was just– Uh, thinking about something,” he mutters, sheepishly smiling and reaching around her to rinse off the toothbrush.

“‘bout what?” she hums, dipping her head down so she can cutely shove her face in his own. Jeongguk grunts and cranes his neck away, but she grins wider and follows him, accidentally bumping her nose against his jaw. “What’cha thinking about, huh?”

“Ugh, hey– Stop!” He lets the toothbrush clatter into the sink and smooshes her cheeks between his large palms, holding her still, approximately an inch away from his nose. Cautiously, Jeongguk leans back, redeems the blush that is steadily heating his own cheeks by saying, “I was just thinking about all the ways I’m going to make you repay me for making me deal with your drunk ass.”

She half-heartedly waggles her eyebrows. “Care to elaborate?”

“Oh, you know,” he says as he drops his hands to her knees, but he does not fucking know at all since he was thinking about her tits again. His barely functioning, overtired and exhausted brain manages to conjure a handful of weak options. “I could make you do the dishes for a whole month. Or maybe, I could get you to buy the groceries for the next two fortnights. That’ll wipe your cocktail debt, at least.”

“You’re too soft on me, Jeongguk. Even when I can make your life a living hell,” she sighs, sleepily blinking at him. Unexpectedly, she knots her hands into the front of his shirt and pulls him close, successfully bringing his face back to the proximity that it was only a moment ago; nearly nose to nose. He can very suddenly feel his pulse practically vibrating in his throat. “‘m really sorry. You deserve something better than just some silly chores. I’ll pay you back the money of course, but– … Hey, what does my breath smell like?”

Before Jeongguk can even question her, she is forcefully exhaling onto his face. A gust of peppermint fills his nostrils, powerful enough to make him flinch. “Minty fresh. Why?”

Her lips stretch into a gentle curve, and beneath the fluorescent lighting of the bathroom, it almost appears nervous. “Good, ‘cos here goes nothing.”

Jeongguk is about to frown, about to speak, about to something. He cannot recall. Not now that she has closed the short gap between them and is accurately planting her mouth upon his own.

For a moment, Jeongguk thinks he might well and truly be dreaming. That tonight was some ridiculously real, torturous fantasy that his imagination managed to conjure in his unconscious state. But then her soft, damp lips part ever so slightly. Warm with the heat of her mouth, yet cool from the toothpaste. She opens up to him, her hands sliding up his chest to lock around his nape, the tip of her tongue skimming along the rosy flesh of his lower lip, and he knows.

This is very, very real.

Holy shit.

It takes a second for him to comprehend that he should kiss her back instead of standing there like a startled creature. And so, he slides his hands up from her knees to the middle of her thighs, the soft flesh warm beneath his palms when he gently grips them, and he tilts his head slightly to the side to deepen it. At this, she makes the most pleasant, lovely little sound. The edges of her nails lightly graze against the hair on the back of his neck, and elicit gooseflesh that tingles along his arms. 

Jeongguk parts his lips, lets her in, groans quietly when her tongue brushes against the underside of his own and then recedes. He chases after it, tasting warmth and cool peppermint as he carefully sinks his teeth into her lower lip, nibbling at the plush flesh and releasing it. A thin string of saliva connects their mouths as they separate for the most infinitesimal of moments before they dive back in. They are abstrusely drawn to each other. Like a black hole has formed between their bodies and they are radiant stars, pulled to the centre by gravity, colliding and becoming one.

Jeongguk cannot think straight. His mind has become an unrecognisable labyrinth that he cannot navigate; sent into turmoil by the taste of her, the feeling of her underneath the weight of his hands. He searches higher up her thighs, skimming beneath the hem of the hoodie and over her boyshorts, finding her waist and anchoring his fingers there, pulling her closer. Now, with her torso melding against his own, she loops her arms over his shoulders and her legs around his hips, locking her ankles and hands so that the embrace cannot be broken. Jeongguk melts completely, and he prays that this is not just some measly, intoxicated repayment. That what he feels in the slow movements of her lips and the press of her tongue is what he thinks it is. 

What he has been hoping for all this time.

As if she reads his mind, she suddenly jolts away like she has been electrocuted. Jeongguk, startled and with his lips still parted, stares at her with awed, lovestruck eyes. She gazes back as though she is very, very unsure.

Oh no.

“Woah,” she breathes, then she is untwining her limbs from his broad figure and clasping her blushing face with something akin to embarrassment. Jeongguk would think it looks utterly adorable if the fear was not currently spiking his adrenaline. “Wow– That was– Oh. Geez. I’m so sorry–“

“Why are you apologising?” Jeongguk barely whispers, and he almost does not want to know the answer for the fear of her words shattering his feeble heart like a hammer taking to glass.

“I’m– What? I’m apologising because that– That was something I shouldn’t have done,” she stammers, then sighs, letting her hands fall into her lap and staring down at them. Jeongguk is frozen, his own palms still firm against her waist underneath the bunched up fleece. “It was out of line. We’re best friends. I mean, I could blame it on being drunk if I wanted to and we could forget all about it. But in all seriousness, I’ve wanted to do that for a while. It was a very sober decision–“

Jeongguk exhales, and it shudders reluctantly out of his lungs. “You’re not making sense.”

“Okay, fine, fuck it!” she suddenly shouts, and it makes him jump. Her voice echoes around the bathroom, and she looks up at him again, eyes overflowing with frightening determination.  “Jeongguk. I like you, okay? There. I said it. I like you so much, and I get that saying this might fuck up our entire friendship but I really like you–“

He cuts her off with his mouth on her own and thinks: How were we this blind for so long?

This time, the kiss is brief, yet urgent. A sense of desperation hides in the corners of their mouths. Not searching for an answer, but out of the sheer desire touch one another, breathe one another after being oblivious for so long. Jeongguk begins to laugh, soft chuckles against her mouth that draw mystified, hopeful giggles from her own chest. The kissing becomes quite pointless, for they are simply smiling so wide out of the absolute ridiculousness that they could have been doing this for months, maybe even years, at this stage. 

They were just too foolish and scared of losing the other. Yet none of that matters now.

“Is this you confessing back to me?” she mumbles, and there is so much delight dancing like starlight in her eyes that Jeongguk’s heart races. He pecks at her mouth once, twice, then moves to her cheeks, her nose, her forehead and her chin until she is laughing all over again and holy shit, Jeongguk is quite possibly too in love for somebody who was so firmly denying it no less than two hours ago.

“Something like that,” he hums, squeezing at her sides before slipping his hands out from underneath the hoodie so he can reach up and cup her face. There is something radiant bursting through his ribs. Most likely, his elated heart. “I think I love you. At this stage, for me at least, I feel like I love you. I thought I just loved you as a best friend, but it’s definitely more than that.”

“Oh thank god,” she grins, and he feels it against his palms. “I was going to say I love you instead of I like you, but I thought it might be too sudden and scare you away. So yeah, I love you too, asshole. Also, I’m still a bit tipsy.”

Jeongguk’s face feels as though it is going to split in half from smiling so hard. He tucks her hair behind her ears, dies a little on the inside at the fact that he can do that, and so much more, now that they have laid their cards on the table. Brushing his thumbs over her faintly blushing cheeks, he kisses her, and then says, “Really? Wanna go to bed?”

“Yes,” she sleepily nods, latching her limbs around him again like a starfish. “Onwards to my bed, O’ Noble Steed!”

“God. You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously in love, bitch.”

“Wow, there’s the best friend that I know. Thought I lost you.”

“Nope. You fell in love with this, so you’re stuck with this.”

Grin still plastered to his face, Jeongguk hooks his hands underneath her thighs and lifts her up, delighting in the way she giggles with glee in his ear. In navigating out of the bathroom and to her bedroom, he carries her towards all the light switches so she can flick them off. He kisses her cheek with every single one. 

When they enter her bedroom, the overwhelming fragrance of her hits him like a shockwave. Even more so as he carefully lays her down on the bed and then tucks in behind her; the gentle, vanilla aroma lifting from the pillowcase. She rolls over to face him in the dark, and Jeongguk loops his arms around her waist so casually that anyone would think they have been doing this for years.

“Hey,” she whispers.

“Hi,” he murmurs back, pressing his lips to the centre of her brow. At this rate, he believes he may never stop kissing her now that he has started.

Languidly, she blinks, and then mumbles, “This is real, right? I didn’t black out on cocktails, did I? I’m not just having some crazy, amazing dream?”

“Definitely real,” Jeongguk chuckles, pulling her closer. She cranes her neck, angling upwards to catch his mouth against her own, still tasting faintly of mint and pure, unadulterated joy. He licks at her bottom lip, and she groans, pulling away.

“Don’t do that. You’ll make me more horny.”

Jeongguk’s dick, in an act of betrayal, begins to stand to attention for the nth time that night.

“Y-You’re horny right now?” He clears his throat, swallows saliva down his suddenly very parched windpipe.

“Yeah, ’cos I’m still a little drunk,” she whines cutely, but it is nearly lost on Jeongguk. Because now all he can imagine is peeling her out of his hoodie and the boyshorts, seeing her lovely and bare, and then making her cry out his name with every fluid thrust inside of her.

“Fuck, now I’m kinda horny,” he mutters, and she cackles evilly.

“Are you hard?”

“Half,” Jeongguk admits, and she shifts so that she is propped up on her side by her elbow.

“Can I touch you? I’m too tired to jack you off but– I just want to, y’know, feel it,” she is smirking through the shadows and Jeongguk cannot roll the yes off his tongue fast enough.

Then, her small hand is on his dick, almost immediately causing it to swell to its full, erect size.

Jeongguk releases a tight exhalation that whistles between his teeth, draws soothing patterns on her back with his fingertips to try calm himself from potentially blowing his load right here and now. He cannot believe that he has dreamed of this more times than he can physically count on both hands, and now it is actually happening. Out of fear of disturbing the moment, he keeps his muscles locked. She stays rather silent as she feels around him through his sweatpants; gently squeezing his shaft, his balls, her thumb gliding smoothly over the head. 

Then, she nods to herself. Her hand recedes, and Jeongguk feels the loss like a blade driving through his gut.

“I always thought it would be big after seeing your semi that one time, but this is quite impressive,” she very casually states while she lays back down, and Jeongguk’s heart stutters. He cannot decide whether it is torture or euphoria that he is experiencing right now. A concoction of the two, most likely, because 1. she thinks that he has a big dick, and yet 2. he refuses to drill it into her while she is still a few steps away from sober. He wants her head completely clear for that.

Instead, Jeongguk latches onto two of the words that she speaks, smirking himself as he says, “Always thought, huh?”

“Oh come on, you can’t say that you haven’t thought about my body, too!” she accuses good-naturedly, wriggling closer to him so that all of her curves and slopes press against him. His painfully hard dick nestles into her thigh. The desire to roll it against her spreads through him like wildfire. “I might’ve been drunker earlier, but don’t think I didn’t notice the way you were staring at my cleavage like a man deprived. That shirt is a godsend for my tiny titties, right?”

“God, you have no fucking idea,” Jeongguk shamelessly admits, burying his face into her neck and softly biting the flesh there, shivering when she squirms. She is better than he could have ever imagined in all of her reactions to his touches, the sounds that she creates. So real. “That’s why I told you to get changed. I thought I was going to die.”

She threads her fingers through his hair, softly stroking the dark locks. “I’ll make sure to wear it more often then.”

“Well, here’s your cautionary warning that I probably won’t be able to hold myself back when you do. I don’t care where we are or who sees.”

“That’s hot,” she laughs, and then yawns. Jeongguk untucks himself from the nook of her shoulder, licks his lips, and presses a firm kiss to her mouth. When she moves her thigh to wrap around his own, it brushes against the head of his hard cock and he has to swallow down a needy moan.

“Sleep. We’ll talk more tomorrow, okay?” He murmurs. “And we’ll fix this horniness problem. Also, side note: can I hold your ass?”

“Yup, go for it,” she hums, closing her eyes and resting her forehead against his own. Jeongguk smooths his palms down her spine and then over the supple flesh of her ass, and lord, it honestly feels as fantastic as he had expected. He gingerly gives it a squeeze, and she makes a soft, appreciative sound that has all the blood rushing out of his head, leaving him lightheaded and so fucking in love that it hurts. Well, hurts his dick, for the most part.

The room fills with placid silence, yet his heart thrums loudly in his ears, keeping him awake. He focuses on the way her breathing begins to even out, and tries to match his own to her pace. Slowly; in through the nose, out through the mouth. The minutes pass, and Jeongguk feels his body become heavier, heavier, until he closes in on the soothing edge of unconsciousness.

She stirs.

“Jeonggukie.”

“Mmm.”

“I think I’m going to vomit again.”

Jeongguk has been woken up in numerous unusual ways. Being punched in the face is a first, and is quite possibly one of the more painful methods. Even if it was an accident as a result of somebody flailing too close for comfort.

“Ow– Jesus!” He squawks, immediately rolling onto his back and cupping his nose where the fist had made sharp contact.

When he opens his watering eyes, he notices that his best friend is looming over him with a very confused and very concerned expression. The sight of her as the first thing he sees when he awakes is not abnormal, for she has proven to be a much more efficient alarm than his own cell phone on numerous occasions. Even if her method this time around was unnecessarily more painful.

But it is the fact that her bedroom surrounds the both of them that throws him off. Because that must mean he is sleeping in her bed. And why on Earth–

Oh.

That’s right. They confessed. They kissed. Jeongguk fell asleep with his hands on her beautiful ass after holding her hair back while she threw up a second time.

He pushes himself up on his elbows, a sleepy half-smile beginning to tilt his lips.

That is, until she very bluntly says, “What are you doing in my bed?”

The smile immediately vacates his expression, and he suddenly feels as though he has fallen off a cliff face and is plummeting through the air. Jeongguk’s voice trembles in the back of his throat as he quietly says, “What do you mean?”

“Why are you in my bed?” she questions him again, and Jeongguk thinks he is literally about to be sick. “Oh! That’s right. You came to the bar, didn’t you? Jesus. Did we get that drunk again that we ended up crashing in my bed together?” She shakes her head. “I bet it was like last time when we passed out in your bed after that frat party. You remember the one, right? Where we had a full-blown argument over pineapple on pizza–“

Jeongguk swiftly scrambles upright and out of the bed, his chest feeling tight in the worst possible way. Did he genuinely dream everything that occurred last night? Did none of it actually happen? Or was she drunker than he initially thought and she has completely forgotten everything that occurred?

“Don’t you remember, ___?” He whispers, and his voice cracks.

She tilts her head to the side. The sunlight filters through the bedroom window, casting her in a sheen of gold, and she looks so unbelievably, heart-wrenchingly gorgeous that Jeongguk feels something in his chest begin to splinter.

“Remember what?” she says, utterly clueless, and Jeongguk casts his eyes to the ground, confused and hurt beyond belief.

“Don’t worry,” he murmurs, starting towards the door. He cannot completely comprehend what is happening right now, but he knows that something is definitely off because he swears on his heart that it was not a dream. She was real. Her warm mouth shaped against his own was real. Her voice wrapping around the words ‘I love you’ was very, very real; he knows that he could never imagine such a confession so vividly–

Behind him, she bursts into a fit of laughter.

“Oh my god. Jeongguk, you’re more gullible than a dog running to fetch the ball that its owner pretended to throw!”

He whips his head around, eyes as wide as Jupiter. “W-What?”

“I remember what happened, dumbass. Everything. I kissed you in the bathroom, we confessed our undying feelings for one another, I touched your dick, yadda yadda.” She crawls across the bed until she is kneeling before him, carefully reaching up to clasp his face between her palms and Jeongguk is torn between wanting to beat her with a pillow or kiss her senseless. Huh, he supposes this is what angry sex must be all about. “Was I really that convincing?”

He closes his eyes, furrows his brow. His mind is still suffering from the sudden whiplash, and is now doused in liquid fury. “I’m honestly going to fucking kill you.”

“I love you too,” she placates him, rising up to tentatively kiss him. He cuttingly stares at her half-lidded gaze as she dusts tiny pecks to his unmoving lips until he finally caves through the simmering anger and gives in to her, flicking his tongue out to meet her own. Carefully, as if she is unsure whether he will tear her head off or not at the slightest misjudgement, she begins to travel her mouth down his jaw, mumbling, “I’m sorry, that was mean of me.”

“I genuinely thought for a moment there that I must’ve had the wildest lucid dream,” he mutters, settling his hands on her ribs and angling his head to the side so that she has easier access. “But I feel like I could’ve never imagined the sight, nor stench of regurgitated cheesy ramyeon with such disgustingly intense clarity.”

She chuckles, quietly apologising again, and the exhalation of it on his skin raises the hairs on his nape. She reaches the under of his jawline, plush lips coming into contact with an especially sensitive spot on his neck, and an involuntary moan escapes him when the light suck of her teeth sends shivers down his spine.

Jeongguk can feel the curve of her languid, wicked grin instantly forming against his skin.

“Instead of fucking killing me, how about you fuck me to my grave?” she suggests, and her tone is too saccharine around such filthy words. Unbearable enough to bolster his morning wood to its full capacity, even when the flame of rage from her awful joke is still dying out.

“You’re insane,” Jeongguk chuckles despite himself, and she leans back, divine smile still intact.

“Insanely horny after keeping my sexual frustrations for you locked up in my body for roughly a year now? Yes,” she confirms with finger guns and a wink. He shakes his head out of incredulity. “And, I do believe I have a dick to blow to say thank you for last night. And also to say sorry for scaring you just now.”

“Baby, I don’t think you realise this yet but if we’re really a thing now, then you’re going to be sucking my dick for a whole month to pay me back for the past twelve hours.” Jeongguk sighs, running his hand through his hair and then down his face. His heart soars from the way her expression meekly transforms at the sudden nickname. “I’m going to have to start a fucking tally.”

“Well,” she hums, slips her fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, and Jeongguk becomes lightheaded, “consider this strike number one, baby.”

The way she says it melts him down like candle wax, and he cannot help but tackle her onto the bed, grinning at her surprised squeal that is soon suffocated by his lips. Jeongguk knows that they have all morning for this. That he can take his time to explore her body in all of its magnificence until he can perfectly map it out in his mind, can understand the raw shape of her, what glorious noises she makes when he touches her, and what specific places on her being elicit them. He mouths his way down her throat, catches the blissful sigh as it releases from her lungs into the early morning, and then detaches so he can sit back and look at her, straddled beneath him.

Jeongguk entwines her hands with his own and slowly draws them above her head. She simpers, her half-lidded, glassy eyes flooded with unadulterated desire, cast in golden sunlight that makes her appear unbelievably ethereal. He slides his palms to her wrists, leans down so that his lips hover just above her own, gazes right at her and thanks his lucky stars for gracing him with an embodiment of themselves in the form of a girl so radiant that she blinded him; enough, that he could not recognise the love cooped up in her eyes until she spoke it.

He murmurs, “___, I’ve loved you for as long as I can remember. Even if you destroy my savings account and eat the most repulsive meal known to humankind. You’re my best friend, and I want to escalate our best friendship to ‘best-friends-who-fuck-each-other-and-are-ridiculously-in-love’. What do you think?”

“Well, I love you too,” she smiles, her eyes flicking between his own, a glint of mischief hiding underneath the flutter of her eyelashes. “And I completely approve of such an upgrade. Partly because I cannot even express how long I’ve wanted to hold your hand and tell the world that you’re my boyfriend, and partly because I really want to blow you while you play video games.”

There, the realisation drives straight through Jeongguk’s heart. And his dick.

Ah, silver lining.

Note | I just wanted to write about Jeongguk’s phone vibrating against his balls. That is all. I have also never played Overwatch, so if any of the references are incorrect, I apologise. Thank you all for reading, liking, and reblogging this fun and silly little piece. I would love to hear your thoughts on it! ♡

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