#because its FAST. it covers a lot of octaves

[selfdiagnosedeyemotif]

god i need to thank clark powell because she must have put SOMETHING in the Three in the Morning motif that makes every version of it make me want to tear off my face and scream at the moon

[spice-chan]

Untold

description - king Katsuki Bakugo, who’s desperate in wanting to get closer to his mate hatches a morally dubious plan to do so. Let himself get injured ? check. Convince his clueless mate that his dragon needs to breed her otherwise he will rampage ? check. 

warnings - Bakugo is soo bad at feelings. loss of virginity (m&f), dom bakugo, vaginal penetration, dirty talk ?, clueless reader, breeding kink, slight lactation kink but reader isnt lactating, implied brain washing. Bakugo and his dragon are like two separate entities who existing in one body. feral baku. mentions of poison and injury. Manipulation. slight dub con if you squint.

The first time Bakugo met you was after a meeting at your kingdom. A meeting he was more than disgruntled at having to attend. 

You were the epitome of angelic, you had pretty, curly hair that framed your face, with bright (e/c) eyes that glistened in the sun as you helped a maid up. There was not an ounce of supercility or contempt in your humble smile. He didn’t even think you were a royal at first glance from how willing you were to touch and talk to someone so beneath you societally. 

Not that he thought a lot at that moment, because the only thought going through his head was - 

Mine. 

That, he made you. 

At least in the eyes of the nations of the dragons and your home land. 

Not in the eyes of his dragon, the fiery beast who resided within him, and neither in his, because he craves you in intimate ways that he has yet to experience, let alone experience with you, his wife. 

He promptly negotiated a marriage with your family who approved, and married you a week after. 

You didn’t get a say in it, in fact, you only spoke to him a few times before the knot was tied. It physically pained Katsuki to see the resent in your eyes. 

You slept next to him everyday, but he knew you wished to be far, far away from him. 

The closer his body got to you, the further you shrunk away from him. It was pitiful, how your small and fragile body that was made for him, scurried far away from the body made to protect it, the body it should be lusting over.

He was well endowed, a very tall man with muscles earned through hours of grueling training, yet the only thing you graced him with was a polite smile as you passed him in the hallway. 

He loved you, gosh, he loves you so bad. But you can’t see it, can you ? You just see a man who you were forced to marry within a week who ripped you away from your life. A strange, barbaric man who growls when things don’t go his way and sniffs your hair after he deems that you’ve fallen asleep. 

And Bakugo has a plan to finally make you want and need him. 

…….. 

The sunlight hasn’t yet painted the sky a yellow hue, yet Katsuki somehow finds himself waking up. He stirs awake, his eyes opening languidly as his over sensitive nose seeks the smell of his mate. He turns his head to your side on instinct, and finds you snoozing without a care, your chest rhythmically moving up and done, and adorable features relaxed and vulnerable. 

Vulnerable, yet you sleep so far from him, the distance between the both of you almost reminds him of the sun and moon. 

When he married you, he bit your neck to mark you, making you officially his mate. Bound to him for life. He could deduce that you are his soulmate, a phenomenon among dragon species. They were a powerful nation, therefore to make sure their numbers don’t go out of control yet stay stable, they were gifted with soulmates. The only person they will feel sexual attraction to during their long, long lives. Their mate will age like them and the children, if one parent wasn’t of dragon kin, will still turn out full dragons. Their blood is powerful. No wonder your parents were so eager to tie themselves with him. He feels slightly furious when he remembers how eager they were to marry you off, did you live with this sort of apathy from your parents your whole life ? 

Well, it doesn’t matter how those bastards treated you because you are with him now. Besides, their uncaringness made the marriage easier and smoother. 

He turns to face you, and finds you sleeping with your back to him, your hair looks like a pretty mess across the pillow. Do you feel trapped ? Do you sometimes lament on the years you will have to stay bound to him ? 

But questions fly out of his head when his eyes stray to your form. He pants softly in need, his dragon clawing at him to claim you. Your silk nightdress did little to cover your voluptuous ass, and the spaghetti straps did little to cover your spilling cleavage, and least from what he could see from your back to him. He feels incredibly robbed about not being able to touch you right now. But he didn’t want you to hate him…

He turns his head away from you and steadies his breathing, but the tent in his pants stood proudly. Great, another day of rubbing one for you instead of ravishing you… 

…………

The first step of his plan to get closer to you is to prey on your kindness. He’s going to let himself get injured enough to trigger his dragon’s self defence mechanism. That means not letting anyone get close to him, because he classifies everyone as a threat, except his mate, of course. 

Now, how to do it without losing his honour as the dragon king is the true question. 

Well, the answer to that is one of his counsel man. A mad cowardly enough to run away from a fight with the dragon king, and lacking honour enough to try and poison him at the same time for a few thousand quads. 

………….. 

Bakugo holds his sword in a lackadaisical manner, staring at the man across from him who shivers from his intense glare. Bakugo rolls his blood red eyes, his mouth forming into a sneer. Look what finding his mate had reduced him to. 

A vulnerable mess. 

The training ground is filled with spectators who stopped their own training to watch their king fight, a necessary thing for his plan to work. He’ll have you in his arms in no time. 

His dragon rumbled in happiness at the thought of having his mate. 

The fight starts, with steel meeting steel, a minute goes by, and just as discussed, the man lets go of his sword, forfeits and bows down. 

Then grabs a sharp dagger from his pocket, coated with paralyzing poison, and slashes it across Bakugo’s chest before making a run. 

Katsuki feels his limbs become heavier, falling to the floor as the large opening in his chest bleeds and burns. Had he not been a dragon, this cut would have been fatale to his mortality. His pupils dilate as the sound of growls fill the air. His simple minded beast trying to warn the bystanders to keep clear of him or else. His dragon desperately tries to get it’s host to move, and when the beast tries to take over the host in order to survive, Bakugo gladly let’s it. 

The wiser of the bunch go to fetch the queen, their hearts hammering across their chests in anxiousness as a murderous aura surrounds their king, which is fatal to them. A dragon in this state will kill anything and everything around it to ensure its survival. His abilities, which are already deadly, will be doubled once the effects of the poison wear off. They can’t run, that would be shameful, but they can hope that the queen gets here in time. 

Deadly and furious growls fill the air, their eyes keep on switching from looking at the imminent threat that is their king and their possible saviour which is his queen. 

His toes and fingers move, and Bakugo’s reptilian eyes lock on them in clear warning. No sight of you. His claws elongate and his teeth lengthen and sharpen, their size enough to rip a chunk of meat clear of a man's chest. No sight of you. 

His limbs are slowly becoming mobile again, but too fast for the spectators' liking. No sight of you. 

They were slowly succumbing to their gruesome fates. 

His feet, which have regained mobility, along with his arms, support his previously supine body into a standing position. His enraged face faced them, his fiery throat lightening up and ready to erupt them into flames. And he was about to, until a -

“Katsuki !” 

He abruptly turns towards the sound, familiarity oozing from every syllable of the soft angelic voice that called him. 

His reptilian eyes lock on her neck, recognizing the soft pink marks that mar her neck as his own. 

“Mate.” His guttural voice spoke, the sound so deep and raw it was almost inhuman. 

You were slightly taken aback that he recognised you in this state. Dragons must really put their mates on a higher pedestal, especially considering how he was about to toast those men… 

“Mate” he repeats. He turned to the strangers, growling at them with newfound vigour. They are a threat to his mate. Kill threat. 

“No. No, no.” You said in horror, waving your hands back and forth to get his attention away. 

You slowly walk to him, your steps tentative as you gauge his reaction. He seems confused, and he remained unresponsive, at least verbally. 

You steps continue until you you could feel the warmth emanating from his body, and that's when his arms circle you and pull you possessively to his chest, protecting you as he shields your face away, still wary of the ‘threats’. 

“Katsuki, what happened, why are you trying to kill them ?” You speak patiently, trying to ignore how close you are to him. This is the closests you’d ever been to a male, and your face speaks volumes of that. 

“Kill me. Kill mate.” 

You quirk a brow in confusion. “What do you mean ? Why are you speaking like this Katsuki ?” 

“No Katsuki. Me !” He growls in frustration, looking into your eyes desperately, his eyes seem more… red- more animalistic somehow. Even when he looked into your eyes, he still kept an eye on the men nearby, who for some fucking reason are still here. 

“Why are you guys just standing here ?! He obviously wants to kill you, go !” You command, your soft voice raising into an octave none of them ever heard from their kind queen. 

The earth shook as a booming voice rocks the earth, you look left and right, trying to find the source of it when you realize that you are hugging the source. 

Katsuki’s skin fills with leathery patches of red, and his elongated nails pierce your skin as he holds you protectively, his eyes try to find the slightest movement in his surroundings. So he can eliminate it. 

“Mate. Angry.” 

You were starting to understand something. 

“Oh. Are you the dragon ?” You ask,  once again trying to direct his attention to you. 

He nods, his features relaxing slightly as he looks at you. 

“Well-uh- um, why are you trying to kill them ?” You ask him in an attempt to diffuse the situation, your uncertainty leaked into your words however. 

“Threat.” Came his simple answer. 

You sigh, trying to think your words over but you feel choked. There’s many lives on your hand. 

“No. They aren’t a threat.” That caught his attention. You gesture with your head to the exit of the training grounds, and decide to tug him after he stood still for a solid minute instead. 

That’s how you end up tugging a dragon to his bed, who in turn keeps a tight hold on you and growls at anything that moves. 

Eventually, we made it to the bedroom. You open the door, noticing that for the first time, the dragon seemed somewhat relaxed. 

“Do you have a name ?” You question him curiously, having tired of calling him dragon in your head and otherwise. 

He seems more like a puppy now, trying to cling to you while you lead him to the bed. He rubs his head against your cheek, trying to get his smell on you, but when he registered your question, he shook his head. 

“Do you mind if I call you something ?” 

He smiled excitedly, maybe like a child offered candy, but his sharp teeth were anything but childlike. You’ve no doubt they could rip flesh like marshmallows. 

You took that as a sign of acceptance. 

“Ok ! Oh, but maybe I shouldn’t give you a new name. Since you are Katsuki… Ok I’ll just call you Bakugou so I don’t mix the two of you up.” You exclaim with child-like vigor, the innocence in your eyes contradicting how consequential your current actions are. The dragon and his human host, who are so incredibly enamored with their mate, are carefully weaving a web in an attempt to trap her. Their mate, who was slowly inching to the web out of her own free will. 

He nods.

Your eyes stray down. You gasp at the sight of his bloodied chest. 

“Oh God ! I’m so sorry, this must hurt a lot.” You apologize profusely, mistaking his growl as a pained one. You move to call for a medic or something of the sort, but Ares grabs you and pulls you to lay on the bed, your supine body beneath his large frame. 

He looks down at the gash, his body will recover soon. He can’t smell anyone nearby or in the room except himself and his mate. So there’s no danger. 

His chest rumbles in happiness though, knowing his mate was worried about him. “I heal.” 

The worry evaporates from your face, instead replaced with amazement. Though the sight was unappealing, upon taking a closer look, you could see the edges of the cut sewing themselves together. 

“Amazing.” You breath out. His chest puffs up in pride, knowing he was the cause of the current expression painting his mate’s features. 

“Cute-“ his simple observation causes your face to heat up ”-good mate” and the rest of his statement didn’t help that. His face leans down and instead of pecking you, he nudges your face, and sinks down to your neck where he starts laying kisses, then slowly begins licking. The warm sensation was strange, but you didn’t find yourself hating it when he spread his warm saliva on your neck. You didn’t even find yourself hating it when his teeth start softly suckling on your neck like a chew toy. His sharp teeth aren’t quite breaking the skin. 

A content sigh leaves your lips as tingles travel down your spine. He continues leaving love bites on your neck, and upon finding it decently covered, he goes on to suck on the mating mark, and to your horror, a tiny moan escapes your lips. His movements pause, and his wet mouth detaches from your neck to flash you a smirk, and you found yourself longing for the sensation. 

This is strange, you should be protesting, you should be embarrassed, but it feels as though a fog is clouding your senses. A sweet, sweet fog. It’s as if you’re put under a spell and all that is occupying your mind is the dragon who claimed you as his mate. Little do you know, you aren’t that off mark. 

“Hot.” He says as he caresses your cheek with his calloused finger hand. 

“I’ve never done this with anyone before. It feels so nice…” you confess, your eyes seem glossier than usual, it’s as if being teased by this pleasurable feeling then having it taken away is frustrating enough to make you want to cry. 

He made a satisfied noise that is akin to a rumble and a growl. “Good. Mate is mine.” 

His hand starts caressing your tummy. Even with the dress you adorned, you can still feel the warmth. His head followed the direction of his hand, his nose doggedly sniffing your stomach. If you hadn’t known he was a dragon, you might’ve assumed he was a wolf shifter. 

“No hatchling.” 

You frown, not having expected this. 

“Do you want kids ?” You ask and receive a singular word in response. 

“Hatchlings.” 

You grow increasingly uncomfortable as every daunting second passes by. You didn’t like the direction of this conversation at all. If you could even call it that. 

Would Katsuki be repulsed by his dragon’s behaviour? Would he be repulsed and weirded out by you ? He didn’t let the tiniest hint that he might like you slip out. 

You notice that the sky outside has darkened. It would be safe to assume there would be no dinner tonight. Not with this primal dragon keeping you away from the prying eyes of anyone. You wiggle out of this hold, and when he notices that you are trying to slip away, he makes a move to grab you but you stop him by putting a hand on his shoulder. “No.” He whines in response, trying to ignore the barrier of your hands but you repeat the ‘no’. 

“I have to change.” You explain, wincing at the thought of sleeping with this uncomfortable gown. Pretty, but uncomfortable. 

Bakugo was about to protest, your dress made you look like the queen you are, the pastel shades of pink and flowers decorating it make you look...Cute. But then the image of your nightgowns cross his mind. 

Your tiny, tight nightgowns that leave most of your delicious legs on display and do little to contain your womanly breasts that are going to fill with milk and feed his hatchlings soon enough. 

He lets you go, and to his delight, you come out of the bathroom in a maroon night dress. Your maids would usually come in two hours to prepare you for bed, but today is a mess as it is. Maybe going to bed earlier would be favourable for everyone. 

Katsuki’s chest is completely healed, nothing but a tender, pink line across his chest to tell the tale. You could bet that by morning there would be nothing. And this day will be a forgotten memory in your husband’s mind. You brought with you a wet towel to wipe his chest of any remaining blood. 

You sit on the edge of the bed, and push his body into a supine position. He watched you intensely and in silence as you wipe his chest, the warmth blooming across it either from the hot water that dampened the towel or from the love within the confines of his heart as you cared for him. Maybe it’s because for once, he feels true care from the other side of the bond the two of you share. 

He loves you so fucking much. If only he can just tell you. Well he can, but Katsuki can’t . You’ll reject him and it’ll ruin everything. 

“I love you, mate.” He speaks softly, that even his deep voice feels like a warm blanket on a winter day because of how tender his confession is. 

Your blood rushes to your face and ears, but you clear your throat awkwardly. You don’t know what to do. The dragon might think that he does because of course he fucking would, he marked your neck and bonded with you, but Katsuki doesn’t. 

“Thank you.” You reply stiffly, before disposing the towel and washing your hands. 

Your head is reeling from the confession, but you feel incredibly robbed, for some twisted reason. If only you got stuck in a loving marriage, if only. You yearn for love, but the one person in your love who mentioned love in relation to you is a beast who’s human host will never let out after this turn of events. 

The dragon, Bakugou, on the other hand wasn’t faring any better. He was happy when you expressed your gratitude in relation to his confession, but when he clocked that you never said it back his mood plummeted faster than a dragon whose wings got obliterated mid flight. 

His mood felt so low, that when Katsuki prodded him for control, he didn’t protest. 

……… 

 After freshening up yourself, you return to the bedroom and immediately sense the change in demeanor. 

Katsuki should do this now. He needs to bind you to him emotionally. 

“(Y/n). I need to speak to you.” He motions for you to sit down, his voice that’s usually boisterous and loud is now eerily calm. 

You walk, the padding of your steps filling the otherwise empty room. 

The few seconds it took you to sit on your side of the bed, facing him, were enough for him to finalise his plan. 

“I need to get you pregnant.” Your mouth gapes at his blunt statement. 

“Excuse me ?”

“This thing today, it happened because we delayed consummating our mating because I knew you weren’t ready. But I can’t delay this anymore. I’m sorry, but my dragon demands a hatchling, or what happened today could be repeated until I can’t control him anymore.” He explains. Don’t question. Don’t question. Please, accept his explanation- or more befittingly, his lies. 

You didn’t see his paralyzed form on the floor, he didn’t especially fill you in on what mating entails. 

And he’s reaping full advantage of that. 

Maybe his lies will come back to bite him, but he needs a child with you so he knows you won’t leave him—maybe after tonight, you’ll also develop some affection for him. He’ll be so good to you, you just have to give him a chance. 

His heart pounds so hard that he can hear it as loud as a drum being played right next to his ears. His poor, sensitive ears that will soon fill with the sound of your moans. 

You sigh. You didn’t want to do this. It was too abrupt. To have a child… but the thought of endangering all those lives didn’t sit well with you. It’s not Katsuki’s fault, it’s not, it was nice of him to wait for you anyway. But tears still formed at the corner of your eyes. Frustrated tears, helpless, angry tears. But tears won’t help you. 

He could have forced you to do it on your wedding night and demanded you perform your duties as a wife, even if you didn’t want to do it. And for his understanding, you were grateful. 

“I-“ your voice cracks”-I—I understand.” And his heart cracks upon seeing your red eyes that filled with tears, tears that veiled the natural curiosity and brightness that your eyes seemed to naturally permeate. Tears that didn’t make you any less beautiful to him. 

Before he starts feeling guilty, he reminds himself that he’s doing this for your future. He’ll make your sadness and doubt disappear soon enough. 

His hand, as if it has a mind of its own, goes to your soft cheeks and wipes the falling pearls. Your doe eyes look at him, innocently surprised, and the witness coating your lenses only made you look more angelic. As if acknowledging that you’re at his mercy-or rather, trusting him with your sadness. 

He wipes all your fallen tears, then brings your smaller body closer and hugs you. This would have been greatly romantic-and it was to you, but the underlying truth is that Bakugo is the cause of those tears. 

“Don’t worry. I’ll take care of you and our hatchling.” We’ll be the perfect family, just that way we're always supposed to be, mate. 

“It’s-“you hiccup”- it’s fine. I-I don’t blame you.” You reassure, returning his hug. You were surprised that Katsuki was capable of being nice like this, you didn’t know that he possessed a gentle and tender touch. Everyone always pitied you for being forced into wedlock with him, despite keeping their opinions to themselves. Maybe that’s what caused the barrier in your relationship. You suddenly feel shame at judging him so fast. 

But instead, you soak up the warmth of his body pressed against yours. 

Katsuki took the initiative, he cups your cheek and presses his warm, supple lips against yours. A truly loving kiss, because Katsuki loves you and he’s about to show you what him loving you entails. 

Surprisingly, his dragon makes an odd request.

Katsuki tries to continue kissing you but his dragon is growing increasingly demanding with his pursuit of control. 

Katsuki detaches from your lips, dissatisfied with it, but why ? The first time he kissed you at your wedding, it was magical, but now he hungers for more. 

Through his frustration, he lets his control slip and that’s when Ares comes out. 

And he truly looks like the God of War. 

He’s ready to conquer.

He smashes his lips against yours, rather roughly, and the smacking sounds of your lips filled the room. His warm tongue prods your lips, and through your inexperience, you clumsily followed his cue. He’s like a more primal version of Katsuki. 

His tongue begins exploring every crevice and every corner of your mouth, only becoming more hungry at the taste of you. 

He only separates himself after you start running out of breath and when your delicate hands push his chest away. 

His hungry eyes take in your red and swollen lips appreciatively. “Mate delicious.” 

His smirk however, flips to reveal the unfamous scowl of Katsuki. 

“Sorry. He’s eager. He wants to breed you roughly, he demands it.” Katsuki tells you shamelessly, panting with need and cheeks blushed lewdly. His predatory eyes take in your compromising position, thinking of different positions to breed you. 

“It’s ok, just please be gentle with… you know-- I’m a virgin...” you remind him with a chuckle as you try to play it off, but the embarrassment is evident on your face. Katsuki was well aware of the fact, but seeing you admit that he would be the one to deflower you just made the tent in his pants more obvious. Sprawled out beneath him, trying to avoid eye contact from shyness. What a beautiful sight. 

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you enjoy it.” 

He went back to kissing you, and his dragon kept giving him tips, surprisingly, and seeing how he ravished your lips before, he took the beasts advice wholeheartedly. He shed his clothes while you were preoccupied with his lips. 

“I am too, if it makes you feel any better.” That’s pleasant to hear, and it only gave your ever improving image of Katsuki more credibility. He’s not like those perverted male royals who frequently use prostitutes while fussing over the slightest male interaction their wives have. You guess that’s a plus of marrying a dragon.

After he thoroughly swapped saliva with you, his lips go to your ear and breathlessly whisper “I’m going down to prep you.” 

Your features scrunch adorably in confusion. “What do you mean ? Don’t you just put it in ?” 

He internally coos at your words, so naive. 

Outwardly though, he chuckles. “You’d be crying if I just shoved my dragon cock on you sweetheart.” 

You gasp and his words and cover his mouth with your hand. 

“Katsuki ! Don’t be crude. And did you just call your manhood cock ?” 

He continues chuckling, only now with new found vigor while removing your hands. “Yes, I called it cock.” 

His red eyes didn’t seem to hold the slightest bit of shame, you huff grumpily. 

“Ok (y/n), you have to be relaxed for me, ok ?” He asks seriously, and you nod, not knowing what to expect, but willing to let him lead. 

Katsuki goes between your legs, and lifts your tiny dress up to reveal your panties. He could already see some wetness. He slips your cotton panties down to reveal the delicious sight of your pussy. 

You adorably turn your face away, not willing to look any longer at him looking at your private parts. 

He’s lucky his primal urges are guiding him on what to do or he’d be lost, but his dragon is eagerly licking his lips at finally being able to taste his mate. He takes a tentative lick, and becomes pleased when you tense up. He takes another, slower one and when he pinpoints the exact location that had you tensing, he pays attention to it. 

After hearing a cute, restrained moan escape the confines of your mouth, he begins sucking on your clit. Your thighs close around him as you moan louder. 

“Ah. Katsuki, that feels so good.” So sexy, it’s like all his dirty daydreams in one sentence. 

He keeps sucking, and his fingers prod at your opening. You were lubricated enough that his thick finger slips right in. He experimentally thrusts it in and out while he keeps on sucking you and gets rewarded with pleasurable noises from you. 

He adds a second finger, the stretch still not quite enough. 

A third finger prods your entrance, and you gasp. “Please slow down Katsuki…” 

He gives your thigh a kiss, and murmurs a little apology before he resumes eating you out. 

Your thighs clamp around his head in pleasure as he continues sucking you. Your heart rate speeds up as you abandon all inhibitions and moan for the man pleasuring you. 

“Katsuki I feel- I feel like I’m going to pee…” you confess bashfully as he continues to suck you with his mouth while two of his fingers thrust in and out of you, mimicking the movement of his manhood. 

“No, you're about to cum. Don’t hold it back.” He commands you. So that’s what the knot you feel in your stomach is. 

He takes his fingers out and uses both of his hands to lift your hips up. His tongue teases your nub, not sucking anymore but merely rubbing your clit with the tip of his tongue. The loss of the stimulation of his fingers, added with this, makes you come down from your high. Frustrated tears stream down your face as dissatisfaction gnaws on your chest. 

“Why ?” Your question while looking down at his face between your legs, he gives your clit lazy strokes. 

“You didn’t say thank you. Is that how a good mate behaves ?” Katsuki’s voice was deeper now, not deep enough for it to be Bakugo-the dragon, but deep enough for you to know he’s primal right now.

He did say he wanted it rough… 

“I’m sorry Katsuki. I’ll be good from now on, promise !” You beg, desperately for more stimulation then the lazy strokes if his tongue. 

“I don’t know if I should believe you.” He rubs his dampened chin, looking contemplative. 

“Please, I’m gonna be a good mate ‘n say thank you Katsuki.” You plead again and he hums in response. 

Katsuki is crooning with pride seeing how desperate for him you are. Your lip wobbles as you beg, dependent, submissive to him and only him. 

“Fine, since you begged so nicely. But next time, I’m going to punish you.” You nod in acceptance. But before he can reprimand you for the same mistake, you use you words. “Ok, thank you.” His chest rumbles in pride at your obedience. 

In no time, Katsuki had you cuming in his tongue, and he laps it up, moaning at how tasty at is. 

“Thank you- ah. Thank you-“ you babble incoherently. 

Katsuki lays kisses on your thighs, giving a few nibs to mark you. 

He slips your night dress off while you bask in the afterglow of release and growls at the delicious sight of your bare breast. 

He captured a nipple in his mouth, twirling his tongue on the sensitive skin then suckling like a hatchling would. 

You bury your hand in his hair, pulling at it as pleasurable tingles travel through your body. 

“Gonna fill those with milk soon.” He declares, his fierce and deep voice confident while he squeezes your breasts in his hand. 

He took off any remaining layers on himself, deciding he delayed this enough. He was kind of nervous at your reaction. 

You look in horror at his monstrous manhood, huge, absolutely huge and the thickness towards the end could compare to a coke can, a fizzy common drink you saw servants indulge in. 

“ it’s not going to fit.” You say, folding your legs against your chest protectively. This huge thing, inside you ? Hah. 

“Yes it is.” He growls. But he softens his tone when he sees the intimidated look on your face. 

“Don’t worry.” Even though you still wanted to protest, you realize that it’s not like he can help his size, so you nod cautiously. 

He takes hold of your ankles and spreads them further apart, revealing your juicy core. 

A white pearl of precum gathers at the tip of his dick, glistening and proof of his excitement at finally being able to breed you and claim your body. His balls were full and ready to be milked inside your walls. 

“There, you can hold my hand. And tell me if it hurts.” You nod, and he interlocks his fingers with yours while his other hand adjusts his cock at your entrance. He pushed it inside, smoothly at first and he had to bite his lip to contain the whine that was going to slip out. A few inches in and you were gripping his hand until both of your knuckles turn white. 

“It hurts.” You rasp out. Well that’s troublesome, less then half his cock is inside. 

Despite how tempting it is to just ram it all in, and bask in the warmth of your walls, he gave you his word. So he pulls out, his length wet from your juices. 

He puts one of your legs over his shoulder and goes eye level with your cute, tight little hole that didn’t manage to take him. 

He gathers saliva in his mouth, then sticks his tongue inside. His warm muscle fucks you for a few minutes, thrusting in and out and relaxing your rigid walls. 

But when you start moaning for release, he takes his wet muscle out. 

Half of his length slips right in from your wetness. 

He grabs your hand and laces his fingers in yours yet again. Your hot walls clamp around him, and as he pushes his length in more and more, your tightness becomes comparable to a piece of cloth stretched too thin. It feels as if he’s going to rip you apart. 

Tears slide down your face, he’s too much. “Katsuki, it hurts…” he squeezes your hand, and begins kissing your tears away, distracting you from the painful penetration. 

“I’m all in honey. It’s ok.” He rasps out. You sigh in relief. It hurts so badly, but you’ll bear with it like a good mate. 

He stays still for a few moments, cockwarming you, while he tries to restrain his raging dragon. He growls in satisfaction, having popped your cherry and claimed your body. His scent is all over your body, even your insides. 

He begins moving his hips, hungry for the friction. You start to relax slightly, and after a few thrusts, you start to even enjoy it. 

He moans when your walls squeeze him, squelching sounds filling the room as he picks up speed. He lays his head on your chest, sucking your mounds while his hips snap against yours. 

“‘Gonna breed you so good. You’re gonna be gorgeous, swollen and full with our hatchlings. They better look like you, gorgeous.” He rambles, his cock twitching at the thought of you nursing the hatchlings with your milk and rocking them and cooing at them. It seems that you agree with him, because you hug his body tighter and squeeze him harder. So hard that his fucking falters. 

He groans when your fingers pull his hair, pretty lips mouthing pleas to come, the broken begs sounding better then any music he’d ever heard. 

He grabs your knees, pushing them against your chest, which made your walls even tighter, and let him breach and massage untouched places. 

“Ah.” You moan loudly in surprise when his tip nudges against your crevix, your tongue lolling out lewdly. 

His expression mirrors yours as he flushes an even deeper shade of red. He groans as you tighten around him in preparation for an orgasm. 

“Tell me baby, did that feel good ?” He asks, pushing your legs against your chest even more while the sound of the room fills with his balls slapping against you. 

“Yes. Thank you- thank you. Please let me cum. I’ve been good. Please. Please.” You plead and plead, but his hips slow down in response. 

“No !” You protest. He shushed you gently, grunting at the sudden lack of pleasure coursing through his body. 

“Shh. It’s ok. I’ll let you cum if you do this one thing.” You nod eagerly in response. Anything. 

“Tell me you love me.” You almost expected the voice you heard to be animalistic and deep like Bakugo, but it’s the more humanoid one lf your husband. 

“I love you Katsuki.” 

His heart flutters, the words he’s been so desperate to hear finally come out of your mouth. His lips lay a soft peck on your lips, his tender touch soft like a lover’s touch would be. 

“I love you too kitten.” He replies, and before your brain can return to its senses, his hips begin slamming again, and in no time, you are squeezing him like a vice while you cum around his cock. He hugs your small body close to him, your soft chest against his, while his cock paints your walls white. 

“So much cum and it’s all for you. It’s gonna keep coming out because dragons have that much fucking cum for their mates-“ he rambles breathlessly, shocks still traveling through his body, “- then when it finishes, I’m gonna flip you and fuck you from behind and fill you all over again.” 

The fog was starting to clear from your head, and once again, you become aware of your sweaty bodies hugging each other close and his massive cock that's still inside you and still filling you with cum.

“Uh, you want to do it again ?” You ask, unsure whether his post orgasmic rambling his nonsensical or not. 

His red eyes look at your flushed face, and he wipes any sweat or tears sticking to it with his hand- which is fairly sweaty in its own regard, but he wanted to feel like he’s taking care of you. 

“Can I ? I- the dragon is not totally satisfied yet.” He confesses while his hand presses your bloated stomach and hisses due to his cock still being inside. He’s proud of having bloated his mate because of his seed. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t do it again.

..................

please like and reblog if you liked this, and thanks for reading.

kofi

[stoneworldsimp]

I know the songs

senku x reader

warnings: kissing in the end, crying

senku wakes up to the sound of the floorboards creaking.

peeling his eyes open, he looks around while keeping his body in place; nothing moved out of place. no pots of minerals have been taken. good, he thinks, it isn’t a thief. closing his eyes again, he slowly turns to his other side and faces the door that is now open. moonlight shines on his face.

he opens his eyes once more to see you sitting outside on the ledge of the hut, your back bent from hunching over to hug your legs to your chest. he couldn’t see your face, but it seemed you were looking up at the sky. he smirks to himself, wondering why you were up so late when you all had a big day ahead of you tomorrow.

before he realizes it, he’s getting out from under his covers and making his way next to you. the floor creaks once again, but he tries to be quieter. he knows you sense him behind you.

“why are you awake?” he asks once he’s sat next to you. his head is turned toward your face.

you keep your eyes on the sky. “thinking.” you don’t continue.

senku stays quiet, copying your body by peering up at the stars and resting his arms on his knees.

the weather was perfect, no wind was passing and it was almost, almost too warm to sleep with some sort of cover. stars were scattered by the billions, clear for anyone to see if they stopped and looked for a moment. neither of you knew what time it was. time passes slowly; senku believes more than an hour goes by before you speak again.

“before we turned to stone, i used to be a musician.”

his ears grew hot. his mouth opens slightly as if he were to respond to you, but you continue before he has the chance.

“i was a pianist. i played for lots of concerts before i turned eighteen, and it was amazing. playing with huge groups of singers or musicians in school made me realize i wanted to do it as a career. and honestly, i wasn’t super amazing in any other regard. playing piano was the only thing i was ever good at.”

you pause for a moment, and senku thinks to ask about your favorite song; he goes against it, in case you have more to say.

“this is the longest i’ve ever gone without doing anything..music related. even when i traveled from home and stayed with another family, there was a conservatory that was open for anybody who wanted to practice. normally i could at least listen to some arrangements or concertos online, but..obviously, we don’t have that.

“but, what if i forget how to play one day? it’s bound to happen, i’ve been itching to play for months but i’m barely remembering melodies to songs i thought would never leave my head. and no offense, but despite you moving relatively fast on creating certain contraptions, i doubt it’ll be quick and easy to build a piano. even if we end up finding materials, and building the shell, and the wires, and the hammers, and the keys, its going to be super hard because hell, if we can get the correct intervals for each key and build one thats at least two or three octaves...what if i stare at it forever, and can’t even touch it, because i just,”your voice wavers and lowers to a whisper,”because i just forget all of it?” you feel a tear halfway down your cheek and promptly wipe it away, glancing at senku for a split second before turning your head away. hopefully the moon wasn’t that bright.

minutes pass slowly and you’re about to give up on hoping for any kind of comfort when he lightly laughs. more tears fall from your eyes; dumbass. i knew i shouldn’t have opened up to this guy.

“that’s not going to happen.”

at his sudden change in emotion, you whip your head back around. senku faces you, the moonlight accentuating half of his face.

“you aren’t going to forget how to play just because you haven’t been physically playing. most of the time, memorization isn’t remembering melodies but also muscle memory too. if you think about the movement of your hands while running through anything in your mind, the memory’s gonna grow even stronger. you’re not going to forget how to play, because you are constantly strengthening your skills internally. from what ive seen in the mere months of us working together, you have an excellent memory. you’re strong on the inside.”

he feels relieved when he sees you smile, no longer sniffling with your body turned away. before you can say anything back, he mumbles,”i can also tell youre practicing in your head because i have to repeat what i say to you about four times before you can actually comprehend—hey!”

you push his face away with your hand as you laugh quietly. he laughs with you while his head comes back and you reply,”thanks, i think, senku.”

the both of you are closer than when he first sat next to you; your body is now facing his, only one leg dangling over the ledge of the hut. both of his legs are hanging but his torso is turned completely to you, and your faces are only a couple of inches away from each other.

with a small inhale, you close the gap and push your lips onto his. it’s awkward, it’s wet; you stay connected for a long time before pulling away. senku’s smirk is plastered on his face but he’s burning a bright red from ear to ear. due to the overall darkness and your own blushing face, you don’t seem to notice. you can only feel yourself getting hotter, and see the way his lips are slightly glistening from your spit after kissing him. you’re the first to talk, and it barely comes out as a whisper. “uhm, sorry. it’s uh, it’s been kind of, well, it’s kind of been a long time. since i’ve really done something like that.”

“let’s try again.”

you feel your heart drop at his immediate response. it must have shown in your face, because his smirk grows even bigger.

“it can be better, yeah? i’m ten billion percent sure that practice makes perfect.”

[seanfalco]

The Great Death Defying Nathan Young | Nathan Young x Reader

Word Count: 3.9k Warning(s): Suggestive language, Blood, Character Death (but it’s Nathan, so he’s okay)

Summary: Becoming a Vegas magician’s personal assistant, you get more than you bargained for when you find out the hard way that the magic is actually real, and so are your feelings.

a/n: Dedicated to @midnightseance / @imagine-you for our one year friendaversary!  You were the one to inspire this fic with your ideas after all lol.  Thank you Mel for being such an amazing friend and writing partner.  I love you to bits!  (To bits, I say!)

“This your first day?” the woman with the clipboard and headset next to you asked, startling you. Tearing your eyes from the stage, you nodded.

“I’m [y/n],” you introduced, shaking the woman’s hand as she checked her clipboard.

“I’m Deb. Ah, yes, here you are,” she said, looking back up at you. “You’ll be shadowing me today,” she explained. “Apparently Mr. Young needs more than one personal assistant,” she added under her breath.

“What’s he like?” you asked as you fell into step with the woman.

“A giant pain in my ass,” she grumbled with a twist of her lips. “Everyday its something else: ‘I’m hungry, fetch me some more cornettos’, ‘get Marnie a new pair of lingerie, you know th’kind I like’, ‘I need more condoms’,” she exclaimed in a poor imitation of an Irish accent.

“Oh,” you exclaimed, your brows rising in surprise. You were starting to get a better picture of what this Nathan Young you were going to be working for was like and he seemed like a bit of a prick.

——

——

“Mr. Young,” Deb called through the door to his dressing room after knocking several times with no answer. “Mr. Young!” she tried again, louder this time.

“What? Jay-sus, come on in!”

Deb rolled her eyes as she opened the door and you got your first look at ‘The Great Nathan Young’. Sprawled back in a rather grandiose throne-like chair, one long leg thrown over the arm rest, he wore naught but a half open silk robe tied loosely at the waist and a long silver chair round his neck that glittered against his bare chest.

Sporting a dashing goatee and dark wavy locks that framed his face, his dark limned emerald eyes unabashedly looked you up and down, openly checking you out with a small quirk to his lips.

“And who’re you?” he asked, his lilting accent taking you by surprise. It was nothing like how Deb had impersonated.

“This is [y/n], she’s your new assistant,” Deb introduced, sounding bored as she looked disdainfully around his messy dressing room.

“New assistant? I thought I was your assistant!” the dark haired girl you’d seen on stage earlier exclaimed, her voice a rather grating whine.

“What? No, sweetheart,” Nathan soothed, pulling her into his lap. “She’s my new personal assistant, you’re my magical assistant,” he explained and the girl ‘ohhhh’d’ in understanding, letting out a high pitched giggle.

“Well, that’s a relief,” she exclaimed. “I thought you were gettin’ rid of me for a moment there.”

You noticed Deb roll her eyes again and fought the urge yourself.

“Alright, well, if you don’t need anything—” Before she could finish, Marnie spoke up, cutting her off.

“Actually, I’d like a coffee!”

“Oooh, and I’ll have a soda, and a sandwich,” Nathan added.

Ushering you out of the room before the two could asked for anything else, Deb grumbled under her breath, showing you where the food cart was and how to make Marnie’s coffee the way she like it, with extra sugar.

——

You’d only been on the job a handful of days, but you had to admit it was kind of exciting, despite Nathan’s constant demanding whims. Standing off to the side to watch that night’s rehearsal, you couldn’t help but marvel at how real it all looked.

“Marnie! Stop stop stop!” Nathan cried, frustration lacing his voice as he stopped the production to chastise his partner for about the third time.

“What now?” Marnie exclaimed with a huff, crossing her arms petulantly over her chest.

“You’re not hitting your mark!” Nathan groaned, gesturing to the taped off X on the middle of the stage. “How am I s’posed t’make yeh disappear if y’don’t hit your mark?”

“I don’t know! Does it really matter that much?”

This wasn’t the first time they’d ended up in a shouting match either. It seemed over the past few days, since you’d started, there’d been trouble in paradise, the two constantly picking at one another.

“I need a break, I’m gettin’ a fuckin’ headache,” Nathan groaned, walking off the stage and you hurried after him.

“Can I get you anything?” you asked and Nathan pulled his hand from his face to look up at you.

“An aspirin?” he asked, a pathetic note to his voice before covering his eyes again as he slumped back in his chair. Shaking your head ruefully, you went to go grab a bottled water and some aspirin, holding them out to him.

“Here y’go, drink up,” you prompted, watching him pop the pills in his mouth and down them with a swig of water.

“Thanks,” he muttered, eyeing you askance and you smiled— it was probably the first time he’d actually thanked you for anything.

“No problem,” you murmured. “Can I ask you something?” you wondered after a moment, your curiosity getting the better of you. You knew he was probably going to tell you “a magician never reveals his secrets” or some other bullshit line, but you had to ask anyway.

“Hmm?” Nathan prompted, his eyes still closed.

“How do you make it all look so real?” you asked, a hint of awe in your voice and Nathan’s eyes opened as he straightened, fixing you with a smirk.

“That’s because it is all real,” he exclaimed grandly.

Snorting, you rolled your eyes. “Alright, keep your secrets then.”

“I’m serious!” Nathan insisted. He looked like he was gunna say more until the production manager called him back to the stage and he let out a heavy sigh, pushing out of his chair. “I’d love t’stay and chat, but duty calls,” he muttered, spreading his hands apologetically.

“Oh, but first… this is for you,” he said, stopping suddenly to turn, and with a flourish he held out a single red rose to you. “I didn’t know what your favourite flower was… or really how t’make anythin’ that isn’t a rose so…” he trailed off with a shrug and you took the flower, watching him walk to the stage in awe.

Turning, you found Deb watching you, rolling her eyes at the grin you quickly wiped off your face. However, once she left, you smiled to yourself, tucking the flower behind your ear.

Busying yourself with rearranging Nathan’s wardrobe rack, you lost track of what was happening on stage until an angry shriek filled your ears and you jumped, your head snapping up. Before you knew what had happened, Marnie was pushing past you, nearly knocking you over in her haste, Nathan hot on her heels.

“No, I’m done!” she exclaimed, stomping her foot in consternation.

“But Marnie, baby, c’mon!” Nathan pleaded, rushing past to follow her to his dressing room.

“You better go after them,” Deb groaned, running her hand down her face.

Not exactly wanting to eavesdrop, it was kind of unavoidable, however, as you stood outside the open door. Marnie was throwing her clothes into a suitcase in a huff.

“I can’t do this anymore! You said it was gunna be a cakewalk, but you lied!” she cried hysterically, her already nasally voice raising an octave.

“What am I s’posed t’do without you?” Nathan countered, trying to get her to stop.

“I dunno, get another assistant! How about her?” Marnie pointed at you, having caught sight of you standing by the door. “I’ve seen you flirtin’ with her!”

Nathan grimaced as he caught your eye, the rose he’d given you still tucked in your hair and you flashed him an apologetic look. “Marnie—” he tried again, but she brushed past him, her bags in hand.

“No, Nathan, we’re through. Don’t follow me!”

“You’ll be sorry!” he yelled after her before sweeping dramatically back into his dressing room. “Well, y’comin’ in or not?” he called when you hesitated.

“What, uhm, what was all that about?” you asked, stepping into the room and shutting the door behind you. Nathan already had a bottle in his hand and when he turned to face you, plopping down in his chair your brows rose in surprise.

Instead of the long hair you’d come to recognize on him he sported a mess of dark springy curls piled atop his head, and his facial hair was nowhere to be found, making him look nearly ten years younger.

“Oh, who knows? She’s always been fickle, but who needs her, right?” Nathan replied with bravado, waving his hand as he brought the bottle back to his lips.

“You-your face… you look—” you floundered and Nathan snorted.

“Different?” he scoffed, snorting. “Yeah, well, it’s fake.”

“But you said…”

Giving you a patient look as he sat up, he seemed to find your shock amusing. “Th’magic is real, but my appearance ain’t,” he explained. “I mean, clearly, I’m gorgeous, but d’yeh think anyone would pay t’see ‘The Great Nathan Young’ if I looked like this?” he asked, gesturing to his face.

“I dunno, probably. I think y’look better this way,” you added with a shrug, your words taking him aback and he gaped at you. “So, what’re you gunna do now?” you asked, quickly changing the subject, your face starting to warm at your admission.

Groaning, Nathan deflated in his chair. “I’ll have t’find another assistant t’take Marnie’s place, and fast, opening night is tomorrow and if we have to postpone… it’ll be a disaster.”

“It can’t be that bad, can it?” you asked, trying to lift his spirits, but he merely gave you a flat stare before burying his face in his hands.

“I’ve got a lot riding on this show, if it flops... As a kid, all I ever wanted was t’be a magician and this show is my big break. I guess I could always go back t’do card tricks in casinos...” he sighed, the sadness in his voice tugging at your heart.

Trying to think of something to say, you awkwardly patted his shoulder, jumping when he suddenly sat up, his gaze lifting to you and you didn’t like the appraising way he looked at you.

“What…?” you asked hesitantly, although you could already guess what he was thinking.

“You could be my new assistant!” he exclaimed, jumping to his feet. “You’re already familiar with the show and—”

“Oh, no no no,” you quickly protested, holding your hands up.

“Oh c’mon! You’d look stunning, and you’d be savin’ th’show,” Nathan argued. “D’you want me t’beg?” he asked, promptly dropping to his knees at your feet, only making your face flare hotter.

“That’s not—”

Before you could finish, he’d taken your hands in his as he gazed up at you entreatingly, his gorgeous green eyes getting the better of you.

“Alright, fine, but Deb’s gunna be pissed,” you groaned.

Instantly Nathan’s demeanor brightened, a grin stretching his face. “Leave that crusty old bat t’me,” he exclaimed, waving the thought away as he leapt to his feet, pressing a kiss to your cheek before you’d even realized it. “C’mon, we better get you into costume, we have a rehearsal t’finish!

——

As you’d feared, Deb was not happy about this new development, leaving her once again to Nathan’s whims as his main personal assistant, and grumbling under her breath, she led you to wardrobe.

“Let’s see how long you last!” she exclaimed as she left you to change. Holding up your costume, you eyed the scanty sequined outfit with reluctance. Sighing, you pulled the costume on and inspected yourself in the mirror. Though you weren’t usually very comfortable wearing something so revealing, you found yourself looking forward to Nathan’s reaction, touching your cheek where he’d kissed you.

“Wow!” he breathed, left stunned for a moment as his mouth fell open, his gaze taking you in. It wasn’t long, however, for his cocky demeanor to return, and he let out a low whistle before flashing you a cheeky smirk.

“See, told yeh you’d look amazin’,” he exclaimed, back in his wig and goatee, and you rolled your eyes; you really did like him better without that ridiculous get up.

Climbing up on stage with him, he walked you through each act and you were thankful you had at least some knowledge of what you were supposed to do after watching Marnie so many times. Up close and part of the action, the magic tricks seemed even more real and though you tried, you couldn’t quite figure out how he did it.

“Well, I think that went as well as can be hoped for,” the production manager exclaimed, a haggard look on his face. He, like Nathan, needed the show to go off without a hitch.

“Hey, you were great up there!” Nathan called, catching up to you as you headed back to the spare dressing room — yours, now — to change.

“Really?” you asked, kinda surprised; you’d felt like you’d just been fumbling your way through it.

“Yeah, you’re a natural,” he insisted, leaning against the wall next to your door and you rolled your eyes, fighting a pleased grin.

“So…” Nathan murmured, his gaze dropping as he leaned in closer, trailing his fingers up your arm, leaving goosebumps in their wake. “Wanna come round t’mine tonight? I’ll help keep your mind off the pre-show jitters,” he offered.

For a moment you merely stared at him incredulously.

“We’ll get drunk, have a little fun—”

“I can’t believe you!” you exclaimed in disgust.

“What?” he asked, a confused frown pulling at his lips. “I’ve seen th’way you look at me when y’think on one’s watching. You want me,” he argued.

“So you think just because I took Marnie’s place that I’ll sleep with you too?”

“Yeah, why not? Y’know you want to,” Nathan countered.

Growling, you pushed past him into your dressing room. “And here I was starting to think you might not be a total prick!” You caught the surprised look on Nathan’s face before slamming the door in his face, and that at least made you feel a little better.

——

It was the night of the performance, opening night, and you felt like you were gunna be sick. You’d never done anything like this before. What if you fucked it up and ruined the show? Looking at your reflection in the mirror, you groaned, wishing you could relax when a knock at your door made you jump.

“C-come in!” he called, your voice wavering.

When Nathan’s head appeared around the door you directed him a flat stare. “What, you here to ask me for a quick shag before the show?” you sneered, trying not to think about how handsome he looked in his suit.

“No!” he exclaimed hastily, though he looked slightly guilty. “No, actually I just came t’check on you. I figured you might be a little nervous.”

“A little…” you admitted, your glare softening somewhat and Nathan offered you a smile.

“Just… don’t think about the audience. Focus on me,” he murmured. “You’re gunna do great,” he assured you before his eyes trailed downward and quickly back up. “You look stunning by the way,” he exclaimed, quickly ducking out the door before you could chuck something at him, leaving you flushed and slightly flustered.

“Prick,” you muttered under your breath, but the word held no heat.

Waiting in the wings, you felt stage fright wash over you afresh as you caught sight of how many people were in the audience. Your heart pounding in your ears, your breath sped up as your whole body felt rooted in place. How were you supposed to do this?

You have no speaking lines, you reminded yourself, taking a deep breath, then another. All you have to do is bring Nathan his props and look pretty. All you have to do is focus on him…

Suddenly the house lights dimmed and went dark, a hush going over the house.

“You ready?” Nathan’s voice in your ear sent a shiver through you, and you yelped softly as he pinched your ass. Before you could turn to smack him he disappeared with a flourish of the cloak he wore, appearing in the middle of the stage in a cloud of smoke for his grand entrance to a crescendo of music and applause.

For a moment you stared at where he’d been in surprise. You’d never been that close before when he did that, you always just assumed it was some sort of trick with a trap door, but now you weren’t so sure.

“Allow me to introduce t’you my very lovely assistant, [y/n]!”

Nathan’s lilting voice calling your name snapped you out of your thoughts and you nearly missed your cue, hurrying on stage to stand next to him, bowing low to the audience before hanging off his arm.

“Took your sweet time,” he whispered, his brows furrowing slightly. “Thought you got cold feet…”

“How’d you do that?” you hissed, still trying to wrap your head around it.

“I told you, it’s magic,” he replied with a smirk, turning back to address the audience. “For my first trick—”

After your first near miss, the rest of the show went off without a hitch and you were actually starting to enjoy yourself, thankful for the brightness of the lights overhead which kept you from really being able to see the audience that clearly.

“You ready for the big finale, sweetheart?” Nathan whispered, slipping his arm around you.

“I have a name, you know,” you reminded him, but there was no snap to your voice and he merely raised his eyebrows at you.

“Are y’ready for the big finale, [y/n]?” he amended, bringing a grin to your face though you tried to hide it.

“Yeah, I think so. Are you?” you asked. Even though you’d seen him perform this trick several times it still made you nervous.

“You know it,” he answered, a genuine smile splitting his face. “Y’know, if I didn’t know any better I’d say you were enjoying yourself,” he pointed out, nudging your arm.

“I am,” you admitted, hurrying back on stage before he could react.

——

“And now for my final performance of the night, I will be recreating a feat first done by Harry Houdini himself!” Nathan exclaimed grandly to the audience, throwing his arms wide. “Let’s see if I survive!”

“Please don’t say that,” you muttered, helping him shed his cape and fitting the straitjacket on him, securing his arms in place while dramatic music played.

“What, y’worried? I can do this in my sleep,” Nathan murmured, flexing his arms, testing his restraints.

“I’m not… worried,” you argued, stepping back to gesture toward Nathan with a flourish for the audience.

“You are, you’re worried bout me,” Nathan insisted, a smug grin on his lips. “I always knew you cared.”

Scoffing quietly, you didn’t contradict him as the hook descended from above.

“Now that I’m fully restrained, my lovely assistant is going to attach me to this hook where I will be suspended upside down over the stage while I attempt to free myself from my confines!”

The audience gasped.

“Good luck,” you murmured as you helped Nathan lay down on stage, attaching the hook to a rope tied round his ankles.

“I don’t need luck, I have magic, remember,” he countered, grinning coyly at you.

“Nathan—“ you sighed.

“Can I get a kiss for luck, if y’think I need it so badly?”

Rolling your eyes skyward, you bit your lip, bending over him to press your lips to his before pulling back.

“There, now I feel better,” he teased. “When I get back down will y’give me a proper kiss?” he asked as you gave the signal for him to be lifted.

“We’ll see,” you muttered, watching him as he slowly ascended into the air til he stopped, the spotlights training on him.

Holding your breath, you watching him struggle, squirming in the straitjacket, til just like the other times he’d practiced it, he finally freed one arm and then the other, wriggling out of the straitjacket and letting it fall with a thud to the stage below as the audience gasped.

It was when he fought to free himself from the ropes tying his feet together that it happened; he was reaching for the hook to hold onto when the last of the rope fell away too quickly.

You watched in horror as Nathan fell, his name on your lips, the scene unfolding as if in slow motion.

This was not how this was supposed to happen, but the audience didn’t seem to realize it wasn’t part of the show. As soon as he hit the ground at your feet with a sickening crunch, you fell to your knees at his side, a sob catching in your throat, time snapping back to normal even as the world around you felt muted, your pulse the only thing filling your ears.

The quickly spreading pool of blood beneath him had reached your knees now, but you didn’t care, pulling his lifeless body into your arms, stroking his curls away from his forehead, the glamour having faded away.

He’d been telling you the truth this whole time— it was all real...but so was this. How was he supposed to come back from this?

“Nathan, you idiot,” you sobbed, stroking his cheek. “Why’d you have to do something so foolishly dangerous? You should’ve been wearing a wire, just in case…”

You felt your tears fall hotly down your face, blurring your vision. “What am I supposed to do now? I was just starting to like you, you ass—”

“You were?”

At Nathan’s raspy voice, your eyes snapped open and your jaw fell as you found him watching you, a small grin playing at his pink lips which just moments ago had been alarmingly pale.

“Nathan, you’re—! How?” you gasped, quickly wiping at your eyes, blinking back your tears.

“Am I in heaven? Cause you must be th’hottest angel I’ve ever seen,” he joked, his lips twitching as his grin widened.

“Nathan!” you huffed, unamused, your lips quivering. “You fucking asshole, that wasn’t funny! You scared me half t’death!”

“Were you cryin’ over me?” he asked, tilting his head as he reached up to wipe at your damp cheeks. “Don’t cry, [y/n]. I’m alright,” he assured you, his gaze softening, touched at how much you cared.

“How-how did you do that?” you asked, thoughts of anything but the young man in your arms far away.

“Well, I’m immortal, so…” he shrugged as he sat up, wincing slightly.

“That’s ridiculous,” you scoffed, met with Nathan’s raised eyebrows.

“Is it? After everything else you’ve seen me do?”

“I guess not…” you conceded. “You’re still an ass though,” you exclaimed, helping him up to face the audience who applauded and cheered deafeningly.

“Yeah, but you still like me,” Nathan pointed out cheekily.

Opening your mouth to argue, you decided against it, too relieved that he was alive, that you had more time. Yanking him toward you, your mouths collided and he reacted instantly, his arms snaking around you as he dipped you low, kissing you back with a fervor that stole your breath, leaving you panting in his arms as he righted you.

“You wanna come back t’mine after the show?” he asked, watching you expectantly.

“Do you always go to these lengths to get laid?” you teased, even though you already knew your answer.

“Nope, you’re th’first I’ve died for,” he answered with a smirk that made you grin back. “Besides, I’m hopin’ it might be a little more than that,” he admitted as the curtain fell.

Searching his face for a moment you kissed him again. “I’d like that.”

———————

Tag list: @magic-multicolored-miracle @messengeronthemoon @the-freckled-luba @firstpersonnarrator @xenteaart @gurlimtired @phoenixhits @super-unpredictable98 @nightingale-rose @salvador-daley @duck-noises @forenschik @simsiddy @a-ghoulish-tale @love-is-dirty-baby @captainsheeballs

[artificialdaydreamer]

A somewhat late fic for @jonsimsandcats day.

Jon is a god of cats whose cat followers report that a beast has taken up residence in the wood outside of town and is causing trouble. Jon, unable to say no to helping cats agrees to get rid of this beast only to run into Martin, who is also searching for it.

Warnings for mild injuries to animals and people

—

Jon woke to find a pair of slitted eyes staring at him. It was not an unusual occurrence, he couldn’t go anywhere without the local cats greeting him, or letting him know of problems they were having. He was, after all, the god of cats. They were his followers and his messengers, and in return he gave them protection and knowledge. It was more unusual to not wake up with several cats sleeping on top of him. The tabby blinked slowly at Jon, he blinked back, and it settled on his lap, its fluffy tail swishing from side to side.

The building he’d fallen asleep in was technically a temple to him but humans rarely visited it so it had fallen into a state of disrepair. It was still a sanctuary for cats, they knew that within its walls they could be safe and warm while they slept, but the only other being that really came inside it was Jon. He tried to keep the fireplace lit in winter and set out bowls of fresh water, but there was only so much he could do. It wasn’t like he could fix the cracked windows and provide an unlimited supply of food, he just wasn’t that powerful.

The God of Cats and Curiosity was not a god people often prayed to, not until winter fell and mice invaded grain stores. Cat owners would occasionally set something on their mantle in offering to him, a saucer of milk or a piece of dried meat, but more often than not it was the cats themselves who honored him. He could understand what they said, and sometimes they were the only creatures he talked with for years. In a world where belief was what made a god strong it was a miracle he hadn’t faded away altogether.

“Hello, master,” a voice sounded inside Jon’s head as the cat purred. He stroked its ginger fur and it rubbed its head against his hand. “I have news from the others in town.”

“Oh?”

“They say a beast is lurking in the forest, it has already affected the supply of prey, and several cats who stumbled across it were wounded by it. If we cannot go hunt in the woods we won’t have enough food.” This was news to Jon, a beast in the forest? Not only was it killing animals it had hurt some of his followers, those he’d sworn to protect. His stomach churned at the thought of how they must have felt, had they prayed to him for help? Had he been too far away to hear them?

“Take me to them.” He started to get to his feet, the cat jumped off his lap as he straightened his clothes, making sure the hood of his blue cape covered his pointed ears completely. Despite being a god he couldn’t change his form, or hide the ears and tail that revealed what he was, so he relied on human clothes like skirts and hoods to disguise himself.

The tabby wound its way between his legs before heading towards the door, and Jon followed. The street was quiet, a few humans passed them but it seemed early enough in the day that a lot of them weren’t up. Turning down an alley he saw a pile of crates had been left in a niche and several cats had made themselves comfortable in it, there were even a few blankets and pillows. On one threadbare cushion lay a female tortoiseshell with cuts on her back, the wounds had scabbed over but dried blood streaked her fur and she couldn’t move without hurting.

“You poor thing.” Unwrapping the cloth belt from around his waist Jon dipped it into a dish of water someone had laid out nearby and began to dab at the cuts. The cat hissed, pupils narrowing into slits, but she didn’t scratch him. She knew who he was and what he was doing here. It took hardly any effort to soothe the tortoiseshell, to numb the pain as he cleaned her wounds. The last thing he wanted was to heal the cuts only to have her get sick because he hadn’t ensured they were dirt-free first.

“Thank you, master.” The tortoiseshell butted his hand with her head. “It is an honor to meet you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, I apologize for letting you get hurt in the first place.”

“That was not your fault, master. You could not have known the beast would start lurking in the forest.” The cat shook her head, her tail sticking straight up. “The world is a dangerous place, you cannot be everywhere, even if you are a god.”

Sighing, Jon nodded, his own tail flicking from side to side in agitation. She was right, but it still hurt to know that he could not protect all of his followers from harm. Despite being a god he wasn’t very powerful, people just didn’t pray to him enough. He could look through the eyes of other cats nearby and bless them with safety for a limited time, but his power was finite. Anything more than a league away from him was hard to sense, although it hadn’t always been that way. “I’m looking for the beast, would you mind telling me where you encountered it?”

“I can show you.” Getting to her feet the tortoiseshell stretched deeply.

“Lead the way.”

—————

The forest was dense, trees crowded tight together and thick grasses that made it hard to maneuver, if it wasn’t for the narrow footpath made by other travelers Jon would be miserable. A short distance ahead of him the tortoiseshell cat led the way, showing no sign that her earlier injuries were still paining her. Every so often sunlight would find some way through the thick canopy of branches overhead and illuminate their surroundings, although they both could see in the dark just fine. Jon wasn’t sure how long they’d been walking, but when huge pawprints had been practically gouged in the path he insisted the cat ride on his shoulders for the rest of the journey.

“What kind of animal is this beast?” Jon muttered, ihe tracks were bigger than his hand, and while they appeared to be made by some kind of dog they were far larger than most he’d seen. As they progressed Jon saw several trees with claw marks on them and he started to feel anxious. Sure, he was technically a god, but he’d never really been in a fight before. He wouldn’t necessarily die, not from physical wounds, and he did heal faster than the normal human but that didn’t mean he wanted to get hurt. He didn’t even have a weapon to defend himself.

Somewhere in the trees ahead of them a branch snapped, then another. Jon braced himself as he heard footsteps approaching him, growing faster and louder until he saw a huge brown thing burst out from behind a bush and race towards where he stood. It was all he could do to cast a simple protective spell on the cat and drop her on the ground before the thing knocked him over. His head hit hard-packed earth and the world went dark.

“-right?” A voice sounded from somewhere nearby, sounding concerned but Jon was in too much pain to register much more. He willed his body to heal itself, to reduce the swelling and stop his head from throbbing with every beat of his heart. Slowly, agonizingly slow, he found that he could open his eyes, although the world itself was a blur of green and black. “Hello? Can you hear me?”

Just as his eyes adjusted he saw a face staring down at him, their expression worried. A human? Sitting up so fast his head swam Jon checked to see that his hood was still in place. It had shifted somewhat when he fell, but his ears were thankfully still covered. The human had curly orange hair and a round, friendly face, although they still looked anxious. Next to them sat a dog, a huge fluffy thing, even sitting it came up to Jon’s chest, with light-brown fur everywhere but its face and ears, which were black. Was this the beast?

“Are you alright? Did he hurt you?” The human’s voice was high-pitched and laced with concern. Jon shook his head slightly, but winced as pain sparked behind his eyes.

“I’m fine.” Regardless of how worried this human was, Jon didn’t want them looking at him too closely, the last thing he needed was for them to find out just what he was. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh!” They looked surprised. “I was looking for my dog; they ran off and, well, it’s not like I can stop him if he wants to go somewhere.”

“You own this thing?”

“Well, I guess you could say that. His owners couldn’t take care of him because they had another baby on the way and...” The human trailed off, freckled cheeks flushing pink. “Anyway, I’ve taken in strays before so they felt comfortable giving him to me.”

Jon didn’t really care about where the dog came from, but looking at the size of its paws gave him an idea. “I’ve been told there’s some sort of beast attacking animals in the woods, and I found tracks and claw marks on the path-”

“It’s not him! I know what you’re talking about- I’ve had to take in a whole bunch of wounded animals recently- so I came out here to try and find this ‘beast’ too.” Their voice rose an octave, eyes widening with fear. “I brought Silas with me because I thought he could maybe track it somehow? I know he’s not really a hunting dog but still...”

“Has it?” He scanned the ground nearby and found the tortoiseshell cat hiding behind a tree just off the path. Kneeling down Jon held out a hand to her. “I’m sorry, darling. Are you alright?” The cat approached him cautiously, eyes darting to the dog every so often, and he scooped her up in his arms.

“What?”

“Has it tracked the beast?” It was hard to keep from rolling his eyes, Jon didn’t care much for rambling when he had something to do. He absentmindedly stroked the tortoiseshell’s head, trying to reassure it.

“N- No... I thought he had but he just found you.” The human gave a shy smile. “How do I know you’re not the beast?”

Jon stiffened, his ears flattening against his hair and his tail bristling. In his arms the cat hissed angrily. “Do you even know who you’re talking to?”

“Calm down, let me handle this.” It was clear this human had no idea they’d just insulted a god, but as much as Jon wanted to curse them for the accusation he was here for a different reason. “If you don’t have anything helpful to say then this is where we part.” He continued to comfort the cat as he pushed past them and continued on the path.

“W- Wait!” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw the human was following him. “I mean, we both have the same goal, don’t we? We both want to find this beast and stop it from hurting the local animals. Why don’t we look for it together?”

“I can’t stop you from following me.” Jon sighed and tugged his hood farther forward. He had a feeling that he’d made the wrong decision, but he’d spoken the truth. Besides, this human was larger than he was, with them and the dog he might stand a chance against this beast.

They walked in silence for a while, but like all good things it didn’t last. “I just realized I never got your name; I’m Martin, Martin Blackwood.”

“Jon.” He didn’t feel much like talking, especially since he was trying to listen for any strange noises.

“Just... Just Jon?” The human- Martin- seemed dissatisfied at his answer.

“That’s all I’m willing to share with you.”

“Right, that’s fine,” A pause. “Are you a man?” When Jon glared at them Martin turned bright red. “It’s just, I don’t want to misgender you, that’s all. I’m a man, he/him pronouns.”

“I don’t really see the point of gender.” Jon sighed, pulling on his hood as his ears were flicking enough from irritation he feared it might fall down. “He/they, I guess.”

“Got it.” Martin was a few paces behind, his footsteps louder than Jon’s. “I’m guessing you’re also an animal lover, given that you’re also searching for this beast.” Jon wanted to scream, could this human not be quiet for five minutes?

“Yes, which is why I’m trying to track it. That being said, if it makes noise I will be unable to hear it because you keep talking.” Glancing over his shoulder Jon saw Martin stiffen, his cheeks still flushed from embarrassment. Thankfully he didn’t say anything though, and Jon could have cried from relief.

They continued on, neither of them making a sound as they trudged through the woods, occasionally the dog would run ahead and sniff at a tree or patch of earth but thankfully it didn’t bark. Eventually they arrived in a clearing only to find more tracks in the dirt, the same ones Jon had seen on the path. He was about to say something to Martin when some bushes rustled and a giant wolf leapt towards him.

Having a huge animal knock him over once already that day Jon was more alert, and while he managed to avoid the worst of the beast’s attack its claws still managed to slash through his tunic and he could feel hot, sticky blood running down his side. The pain would come later, once the shock went away, but he was glad to have only gotten minor injuries as he stumbled backwards, clutching the cat to his chest and making sure his hood hadn’t fallen off. His ears were flattened against his hair again and his heart was racing.

“Jon!” Martin rushed to him, blue eyes wide as he took in the wound. Jon pushed him away, staring at the wolf in horror. The beast was as large as a horse, its fur so streaked with dirt and blood, mouth full of razor-sharp teeth. Still, even as his skin knit back together and his heart pounded in his chest he sensed something off about it. Not just its size, but something about its essence was wrong.

Martin had grabbed a broken branch and was holding it like a club, the dog was growling and looked ready to attack the wolf, but Jon held out a hand. “Don’t!”

“That thing nearly killed you!”

“It’s cursed, Martin, it’s not doing this because it wants to.” Placing the tortoiseshell on the ground he took a few cautious steps towards the wolf, one hand outstretched. It snarled at him, crouching down as though preparing to strike again, but Jon tried to reach out with his powers. He was a cat god, but he hoped he could at least calm the thing down from whatever blind rage it had succumbed to. As he drew nearer he saw something wrapped around the beast’s neck, a leather cord so dirty it was almost indistinguishable from its fur. The energy emanating from the cord was the cause of the strange feeling he’d sensed, could that be the source of the curse? “We need to get the cord off its neck.”

“How are we supposed to do that? I doubt we can get close enough.” Martin frowned, but at least he didn’t seem like he was going to attack the wolf.

“Do you have a knife of some sort?” Jon supposed that being the god of cats it was unusual for him to not have “claws” of some sort, but he didn’t like hurting living things. In the future he might start carrying something around, just in case he needed it.

“Oh, yeah! Hang on.” Martin dropped the branch and fumbled at his waist before tossing something to Jon, who barely managed to catch it. Fortunately the knife was still in its leather sheath, the wooden handle was worn but the blade gleamed as though it had been freshly sharpened. Upon seeing it the wolf snarled, baring its teeth and crouching down as though readying to pounce.

“That’s what I was worried about.” Jon sheathed the knife again and approached the beast slowly, trying not to startle it. Fortunately the wolf did not attack, but it didn’t relax either, its ice-blue eyes focused on him.

When he was in front of it he grasped the leather cord in one hand and had to resist the urge to cry out in agony. Jon wasn’t the target of this particular curse, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t feel the malice that had gone into it. A deer, sacred to the Goddess of the Wild, had been slain by accident and the hunter had been turned into a bloodthirsty monster in return. The wolf howled, out of pain or sadness he didn’t know, but he managed to pull out the knife and cut the cord. It fell to the ground, turning into a pile of ash, and Jon felt his knees buckle.

When his vision cleared Martin was kneeling next to him, and before him lay a woman. Her clothes were tattered, caked in blood and dirt, her blond hair coming out of its messy braid. The dog sniffed at her prone form, occasionally nudging her cheek with his nose or pawing at her as though it was concerned. Jon could see that she was breathing, but no doubt she was exhausted from whatever the curse had done to her.

“This is the beast?” Martin looked taken aback, that the monster who’d slaughtered and wounded animals was just a human. “She looks so... innocent.”

“Everyone looks innocent when they’re asleep. She’s a hunter, but she accidentally chose the wrong prey and angered a god.” Jon sighed, getting to his feet and once more checking his hood.

The cat wound its way between his legs, rubbing up against them and purring. “You did it master!”

“I can carry her back to town.” Jon blinked, not sure he’d understood Martin. “What? We can’t just leave her here, it’d be best to bring her to a healer so someone can take a look at her.”

“Right, of course.” He’d forgotten that humans were so fragile, although Jon could sense that some part of the curse had not left the woman. She had been changed by it, marked by the wild.

The trip back through the forest was quiet, neither of them felt much like talking as they picked their way through the trees. The sun had started to set and Jon had to rely on his night vision to guide them, all the while hoping that Martin wouldn’t ask how he could see so well in the dark, or notice the unusual shine to his eyes. Once they’d entered town a handful of cats approached him, all of them thanking him for getting rid of the beast.

“Wow,” Martin gaped at the welcome party. “Cats really like you, huh?”

“You could say that.” Jon replied, unable to hide his smirk.

It was fortunate that the healer recognized the woman and agreed to treat her free of charge because Jon had no money whatsoever. His followers were mainly cats, and it wasn’t like they were in the business of giving him spare change. The healer called the woman “Daisy,” although the name didn’t seem to fit the huge wolf she’d been mere hours ago. Then again, Jon wasn’t exactly the best name for a god of cats and it was still his name.

It was only when Martin stopped at a crossroads and pointed down one of the streets did Jon remember that their partnership had been temporary. “I live down that way, I’m sure if you ask someone they’ll be able to point you in my direction.”

“Right...” It was strange, he’d only known Martin for a short amount of time and yet he felt a pang of sadness in his chest. “I guess I’ll be seeing you around.”

“Goodnight, Jon.” Martin smiled and began to walk away, the dog bounding off down the street.

“Goodnight, Martin.”

When he returned to his temple and settled down on the pile of blankets he called a bed Jon thought about his day. While he’d originally set off to find the beast because his followers had asked it of him, he hadn’t actually done anything godlike. Sure, he’d figured out that the wolf was cursed and managed to break the cord, but it hadn’t really been that difficult. Apart from getting injured twice, that was. Jon thought of Martin’s kindness when the dog had knocked him over, of his flushed face when he was embarrassed, of his bravery when preparing to fight the beast. As his eyes drifted shut he considered how odd it was, that after being a god for so long it only took one day for him to suddenly feel so very human.

——

One day I will not get ideas for an event the day of said event. Credit to the Magnus Writer’s server for the plot bunny, and thanks to @ravendarkwood for the beta!

[farmerlan]

LET’S TALK ABOUT HAN GUANG JUN’S FAVORITE INSTRUMENT, THE GUQIN (his qin is also aptly named Wang Ji lolol ugh I don’t know what do with you silly boy)

1. 鸥鹭忘机 Ou Lu Wang Ji

Did you know there is a famous guqin piece with LWJ’s name in it?

The title comes from a fable in the ancient text of LieZi. The story tells of a man who often played with seabirds and they would gather by him without fear.  One day, the man is asked by his father to catch some of those birds and take them home. The man tried to approach the birds next day, but the birds never flew near him again.

It hearkens back to the Taoist principle of harboring no ulterior motives, to not let yourself be carried away by worldly affairs, which is what his name reflects.

2. The Four Arts

Guqin is THE Chinese instrument when we talk about instruments that embody the history of China. Yeah I’m slightly biased because I play it, but I’ll leave you to read Wikipedia to get a sense of guqin’s long, extensive history that dates back centuries. The concept of the Four Arts - essentially, things Chinese scholars had to be accomplished at - goes, 琴棋书画, specifically the guqin, Go, calligraphy and painting. It is a symbol of culture, of self-cultivation and reflection - all of the things that LWJ excels at.

3. Guqin as a solo instrument

When it comes to playing, the guqin is not meant to be a loud instrument (a blessing for apartment dwellers hello) and there’s a saying that goes,

古琴悦己，古筝悦人

“The guqin is played to please oneself, the guzheng is played to please others“

(Incidentally the guzheng is a really cool instrument akdasjfl;awer I was so close to picking the guzheng over the guqin and even now I still think people look cooler playing it but I just love the sound of the guqin so that can’t be helped.)

The guqin is usually played alone, because it is easily overpowered by other louder instruments. Funnily enough, guess what one of the most common accompanying instruments is for the guqin in a duet? It’s a xiao 箫, a type of flute. It’s both a nod to LXC (who plays the xiao) and WWX (who plays a regular dizi).

 4. How guqin is played

Guqin pieces have a slow, meditative, somewhat sad quality to them. You’re not going to find Flight of the Bumblebee transcribed for the guqin - that’s just not really how the instrument is meant to be played. Guqin is all about the minute movements and timing - too early or too late, too much or too little glissando and you will never be able to produce the same feeling that the piece is trying to evoke, no matter how accurate your notes are. Technique for the guqin isn’t about how fast or complicated the notes are, it’s about that one split second when you know just how much pressure to exert on your left thumb to produce the perfect yin or nao.  Even so, the 7-string guqin is able to cover a full 4 octaves, just like its 21-string guzheng cousin. So playing it looks very easy, but like all instruments, achieving good results takes a lot of practice.

It’s not an instrument you can really wow people with because it’s so subtle, and in a way, I think that’s so befitting of exactly who LWJ is. He is never showy, always withdrawn and somewhat sorrowful (WWX constantly mentions how LWJ gives off the air of mourning lol), but underneath all the barely noticeable expressions lies a man adrift in a storm of emotions.

[chubbyjungkook]

Hello! I’m super nervous to ask something since i’ve never asked or requested anything yet.. but maybe something of Namjoon or Hoseok? Maybe they get stuck in something aksjdkdjd I don’t really have a preference honestly just whatever you’re comfortable with🥺

Hi !! I’m super sorry I took so long to write this but here it is. I hope you like it 💜

Being an idol wasn't easy and Namjoon knew that for sure. They have a lot of pressure for their comebacks and strict diets, it all stresses him that it worries the rest of the members. He had tried so many ways to cope with the stress but none of them worked. Until thanks to the pandemic, the management decided that this year would be more relaxed for them and make them stop having such a strict diet, all of them were happy to eat whatever they want without being scolded and Namjoon discovered that food helped him to cope with stress. And obviously, after all those months of indulgence, it started to show some changes. His once toned and slim body was now chubby and soft, most of his clothes barely fit anymore. His tummy pressed against his skin-tight t-shirts, love handles oozing over the sides of his jeans, and his cheeks were chubbier. He was a bit worried about what the other members thought of his weight gain but all of them seem to be ok with his added weight saying that he looked healthier now 

With their comeback so near, all of them were stressed and busy. That morning after having a large breakfast he was locked in his studio, working on one of their new album’s songs. An hour had passed when he unconsciously opened one of the drawers of his desk taking out a big package of cookies, eating one by one until it was all gone. He squirmed uncomfortably on his chair as the armrest were digging a bit painfully on his plush hips and love handles. Once he was comfortable again, he grabs some chips from the cabinet and started eating them while correcting somethings in the songs lyrics 

He continued eating and eating for at least 2 more until when his hand reached the cabinet, his fingers touched the bottom of it. It was empty. He looks down at his belly realizing how full he feels, pressed his hand on the hard swell rubbing circles on it, and pressed his finger on the hard spots, belching loudly not caring to cover his mouth since he was alone 

After eating a lot of salty and sweet snacks, he started to feel thirsty and some soda really sounded nice. Unluckily he didn't have any in his studio, he sighed tiredly as he rubs his belly, belching as he did so. When his belly stopped hurting, he decided to get up and go to the bending machine to get some soda 

But he realized he couldn't get up, his belly and love handles were squeezed by the armrest of the chair making it impossible for him to get up no matter how much he was trying. 

He tried 3 times more but nothing happened. Fuck he was really stuck there. He tried to think how would he got up from there, maybe he should call one of the members 

After thinking about it for a while he decided to call taehyung since he was free after his vocal lessons 

" hey Hyung! What's up?"  he asked a bit worried because namjoon normally doesn't call them, he always sends them a message 

" hi, taehyung-ah. I need your help, are you free right now ? " he mumbled softly as he hears a door creak from the phone assuming that taehyung was already coming 

" Yes, I finished my vocal lessons some minutes ago. You're in your studio, right ? " he says as he walked there 

" yes, I’m he-" he was cut back by a knock on his studio door and he heard taehyung voice saying that he was there " its open taehyung." he says 

The younger man entered, smiling softly at him " so Hyung, what do you need me for ? " he asks, chuckling 

" Uhm well, I’m stuck." he says shyly, blushing madly 

There was a pregnant silence between them until taehyung finally spoke 

He chuckled softly " so you need me to help you up ? " he asked softly as he gives a glance over the older's desk which was full of wrappers, he smirked softly at the older making him blush 

" yeah, I have tried but I really can't " he giggled softly 

The younger got closer to him grabbing the older's arms and pulled him using all his force which didn't seem to work. He tried for a bit but it didn't work. He groans as he throws himself on the small couch there 

"Fuck Hyung, you're really stuck there " he mumbled softly as he rests for a bit as his arms were aching a bit for using so much force 

" God what am I gonna do ? " he groans loudly as he massaged his temple 

" Uhm maybe we can call jungkookie? He is stronger than me I’m sure he would be able to get you out of there " he suggested already taking his phone to call jungkook 

He sighed softly feeling so embarrassed to have to ask for help to their maknae " mhm, okay please call him tae" he finally said 

" okay Hyung ~ " he chuckled as he looks for the maknae number on his phone and presses the call button, waiting for jungkook to answer 

Jungkook answered the phone after some minutes and Taehyung put him on speaker “ hi Hyung, what happened ? “ the younger asked softly as they both hear the keyboard in the background 

“ hey jungkookie~ Well I’m in namjoon’s Hyung studio and he needs your help, can you come please ? “ taehyung asked softly as he watched namjoon cheeks started to heat up more 

“ Uhm yeah, Hyung don't worry. I’m going “ the younger replies quietly before hanging up

-----------

It didn't take so long before they heard a knock on the door. Namjoon glanced at Taehyung, he chuckled softly before getting up to open the door 

“Uhm soo what do you need help with ? “ the younger asked as he enters the studio looking at his Hyungs

“ I’m stuck ….  I need you to help me out of here “ Namjoon says softly, feeling completely embarrassed. He saw the way the younger’s cheeks tinted pink and taehyung let out a soft smirk  

Jungkook stay still with blushed cheeks before he stutters

" stuck? Y-you're stuck? " Jungkook asked softly 

" yep, would you be a good boy and help Hyung, kookie ?'' Taehyung was the one who answers this time

The younger nodded eagerly as soon as his brain processed taehyung’s words 

bounding over to namjoon, grabbing the older’s arms and pulling him hard.

Namjoon could see the maknae’s struggle to help him up as he heard taehyung chuckling softly, he must feel embarrassed but the situation was hot and luckily none of them could see his semi-hard dick under his massive belly 

After some minutes of struggles, he finally pulled him hard enough to free him from the chair. Jungkook yelled softly as they both fell down on the couch in the older’s studio, when Namjoon opened his eyes he realized he was on top of Jungkook. His plush belly was pressed against the younger’s toned and flat one 

He looked at jungkook’s face when he let out a breathy whine, the younger’s cheeks were flushed and he was avoiding the older’s eyes. He chuckled softly as he asked softly as he got off of jungkook 

“Ow, are you okay kookie ?” he says in a soft teasing tone, laughing softly as he saw jungkook nodded eagerly 

“Y-yeah, I’m fine Hyung “ jungkook shutters softly 

Taehyung coughed fakely as he smiled when he got their attention 

“ It’s kinda late tho, I’m pretty sure you’re hungry Hyung. Maybe we can order some food don't you think so ggukie ?” taehyung asked with a low tone 

Namjoon saw jungkook nodding softly 

“ Oh I eat a lot of snacks so I’m not that hungry “ the older mumbled softly 

“ b-but Hyung snacking it’s not actually eating. We can order some fast food from that place you like! “ Jungkook says softly as he gives him a small bunny smile

He sighs softly as he saw Jungkook's soft glance and Taehyung's sharp one on him. He just nodded 

“Well some more food sounds nice “ he shrugs as he saw taehyung smirk grow bigger as he grabs his phone and starts ordering some food as jungkook fondled the older’s thick thighs with a shy smile 

Sometime after, the food had finally arrived. Taehyung pays for the food and places it on a small table near there. When namjoon bend over to grab, taehyung grabs his wrist softly making the older look at him with a frown 

“Let us feed you Hyung  ~ we can take care of you “ Taehyung’s voice was soft even tho his low tone showing a bit of arousal on it 

“Yeah, Hyung you have been working a lot for the new album. You deserve to rest “ Jungkook says right after the older maknae with his doe eyes looking at Namjoon as he just nodded softly making both of the maknae’s smile 

Jungkook grabbed a huge and greasy hamburger as namjoon opens his mouth letting the younger shove it into his mouth, taking a big bite. Taehyung sits next to namjoon with a proud smirk as he feeds him some fries.

The air in the room was hot, the youngers keep feeding him as taehyung rubs his tight-packed belly. He could hear the maknae’s small whimpers when namjoon feel the maknaes boner against his soft body, making his own dick harden but one of them could see it because his huge belly 

Namjoon places his hand on jungkook’s small and slim waist, feeling him tremble at his touch. Jungkook bit his bottom lip as he started bucking his hips back and forward, practically riding the older’s thigh and taehyung dick digging into his back roll, hearing him groan into his ear 

They continue like that until all the burger was gone, he squeezes jungkook’s waist. Jungkook let out a whine as he looks at the older 

Namjoon clears his throat “Come on kookie, I thought you say you would feed me “  he says with his voice an octave lower, Jungkook quickly grabs another burger and feed it to the older 

“ Kookie come on ~ Show Hyung you’re such a good boy and keep feeding him “ taehyung voice was calm yet demanding, running a hand down jungkook’s back 

Jungkook started to feed the older again with blushed cheeks, taehyung bit his lip enjoying the erotic sight

Namjoon take a big bite shallowing it quickly as he looks at Jungkook with a soft smirk 

“Mhm, you’re being a good boy for me ggukie  ~  maybe I should reward you later, don’t you think so tae ? “ he asked playfully 

“Of course Hyung, good boys get reward, “ he says softly as he caresses the younger’s waist as Jungkook nodded eagerly, feeding the older  

Namjoon arched his back when he finished all the food the maknaes had order for him, he let a loud belch as jungkook hands started to rub his distended stomach, making him groan softly

“Come on Hyung, you’re almost done. Just finish the coke or are you full already? “ taehyung’s tone was sweet but teasing him softly 

“Give me it, tae “ he mumbled with a smirk as taehyung grabbed the big cup of soda and bring it to the older’s lips. Namjoon began to drink it quickly as Jungkook rubs the older’s belly feeling it getting harder and harder under his hand 

Namjoon keeps burping loudly until the uncomfortable feeling was gone, Taehyung smiled playfully at him and kiss him. The kiss was messy and sloppy both of them groaning and moaning on it. They pull away when they heard a whimper coming from the maknae, Namjoon chuckled softly as he cupped jungkook’s cheeks and kiss him too.  He smirked when he pulled away, watching the younger’s blushed cheeks 

He feels a hand on his crotch making him moan loudly as he looks up to Taehyung

“Hyung, don’t you want some help with that. Ggukie and I could help you if you want “ he hummed, biting his lip 

“Come on, help Hyung with this “ he said in a lower tone as he squeezes taehyung’s thighs and jungkook’s waist 

[shimeiro]

Hero ( Savage Opress x Fem!Reader )

Savage Opress x Fem!Reader 

( A / n : Okay so here's a pretty long fanfic that I wrote in a few days. Savage is really perfect for my size kink so enjoy! ) (( and sorry for the mistakes ))

Warnings : Fluff, Protective!Savage, sexual tension, inappropriate comment and gesture ( not from Savage ), mention of abuse, SIZE KINK OF COURSE, and... SMUT ( so +18 ), large and tattooed cock, Oral ( f ), unprotected sex, explicit sexual content.

Words : 6582 ( oh god )

Savage Opress is a Zabrak warrior, tall and also very strong and most of all intimidating, his scowl does not make you want to come and bother him. That's what you told yourself the first time you saw him in a Cantina full of unsavory people, everything about him inspired fear but yet deep down you found him so beautiful, his yellow skin deliciously covered with complex black tattoos, his ivory horns and his eyes, Stars... his eyes.

His beautiful yellow eyes, almost golden, were hypnotizing and you were speechless when he looked into yours eyes, his expression was neutral the first time he saw you, not scornful or anything, just neutral, yet you were just a simple waitress working in a shabby Cantina that mostly took in local criminals but he didn't look at you in a lustful or mean way like most customers here and it was... Nice.

                                             ☆────────☆

Here you are speechless in front of a huge man with biceps the size of your head, he could easily break your bones if he wanted to, but that's not what makes you forget your words, no, it's his bewitching golden eyes surrounded by red. 

You let out a trembling breath while he observes you without any real emotion, the neutral face of all expressions but his eyes seem to say something completely different, they seem intrigued by your almost angelic form in such a dirty place.

"What do you desire, hum sir? "You finally manage to say after long seconds of fascination, you feel your ears warm when you realize that you have just stared at a customer, you could have been killed for less than that here, you realize that too late.

« I’m… I'm sorry I was just um... I mean-  »

« A glass of water. » He interrupts you with his deep voice before you make an even bigger fool of yourself, and above all he doesn't seem to want to kill you and you sigh with relief inside you.

« Yes, of course, I'll get that for you. »

You quickly run out to get his order so as not to make him wait too long and not to risk upsetting him, or simply to quickly get back to him and hear his intimidating and yet so attractive voice again-...

Kriff, you really need to calm down.

He's just a client, yes he's just a very intriguing and seductive client but... Ok you're hopeless.

You close your eyes for a few moments to come to your senses, it's the first time you've ever reacted like this to someone and it's very strange, your heart is racing and your cheeks are warm and most certainly red.

You open your eyes again and take a look at his table and-

Stars.

He looks at you, you the poor waitress visibly upset by this tall, very tall Zabrak, your cheeks get even hotter than they already are and then after a moment of hesitation you walk over to his table with a kind little smile on your lips hoping he doesn't think you're crazy or something.

His eyes don't leave your form as you approach him and it's really intimidating, your smile fades a bit, has he understood that you feel a strange fascination/attraction for him? Oh you hope not, it would be so... so embarrassing. 

You finally arrive in front of his table, put his glass in front of him and shyly smile at him. He looks down briefly at the glass filled with water, grabs it with his huge hand that completely encompasses glass and you find it oddly endearing, your hands must surely be tiny against his.

« Thank you. » He says after a few moments, raising his eyes towards you, you repress a shiver when you hear again his strong and deep voice.

« you're welcome- »

« Hey my pretty, brings me my usual order! »

Oh.

He was Rico, a regular, he's always very interested in you a bit too much but you can't complain, you really need this salary, which is really not much but it's all you can get at the moment.

« Yes, I'll be right there. » The Zabrak looks at you one last time and gives Rico an indescribable look, and you bring his order to the man you unfortunately see often, you force yourself to smile politely but not more so that he doesn't get the wrong idea, but of course, as always, it doesn't stop him from...

Slap.

Here we go.

This so humiliating slap on your buttocks, as usual, and of course it doesn't seem to shock anyone... You lower your head, ashamed, then you move a few steps away from this disgusting man who is watching you with a lustful look that isn't even hidden.

You then hear heavy footsteps approaching you and Rico, you gently look up and it is the Zabrak that stands in front of you and dominates Rico from its full height, you don't see his expression but it seems frightening enough for Rico to move his chair a few centimeters away. At the same time what sensible person would not move away from this huge man when such a threatening aura emanates from his body.

Wait... Does he really protect you from that old guy who takes a malicious pleasure in embarrassing you every time he comes?

« Hey buddy, is that your girlfriend? I swear I didn't know, she didn't tell me every time I do it... »

 You move a little from the imposing silhouette that protects you to see Rico's panicked face, you would almost laugh at his frightened look if you weren't afraid of the way things are going.

« Because you do that a lot? »His voice has dropped an octave to be more intimidating than it already was and he doesn't reject the assumption that you are his girlfriend, oh Creator the warmth of your cheeks and the tips of your ears because of those simple words is so embarrassing.

Silence has fallen on the Cantina, everyone is staring at the altercation, you are swallowing with difficulty and you are getting a little closer to your savior's back, he seems to feel it, he glances over his shoulder to see your shape curled up next to him, You observe him with big eyes and you feel him relax a little, then he looks back at Rico who opens his mouth and closes it again to try to find out what to answer, but it rather makes him look like a fish out of water.

Not seeing him answer the Zabrak bends down a little and puts his big hand on the table which makes it shake a little on impact and makes Rico shake as well.

« I advise you to leave and never come back, understand 'buddy'? » 

« I- Yeah... Yeah. » 

Rico throws a few credits on the table and then almost runs away and everyone goes back to their occupations, you let out a sigh of relief and your savior turns around to observe you, his threatening aura has now completely disappeared and he seems almost shy now, it's really ... Cute, but of course you'll never tell him.

« Thank you… »

« Savage, Savage Opress. »

« Savage. »

He nodded his head at the mention of his first name and you shyly smiled at him when you told him yours, he slowly repeated it too and it made your heart tremble a little when you heard it.

                                             ☆────────☆

After that day he often came back to this shabby cantina, sometimes after a long time of absence but he always came back to have a glass of water that he never drank, he became more relaxed and eloquent with each visit and you would find yourself waiting impatiently for his arrival.

But one evening your boss asked you to manage the closing, which you obviously accept because you do it often and it doesn't really bother you to come home late, you don't live very far so you don't risk much in the end, finally even if you always go home apprehensively when night falls because the drunks or shady men who are always trying to approach you are out at that time but you walk fast along the brightest streets and once you get home then you lock yourself in, for safety because your neighborhood is not the safest for a young woman at night, but you have no choice but to keep working even if it means coming home late.

You sigh at the thought and the last customer ends up leaving, you greet him with a polite smile, then you turn off some lights and you approach the door to lock it but a big hand holds it when you are about to push the door, a big hand with yellow skin with tattoos.

Savage.

You open the door with a little too much haste and you come across a large, slightly curled up figure and you hear a heavy breathing, that's when you see him holding his left side with his other hand.

« Savage you're hurt!? » 

Your worried voice makes him blow with amusement, you learned that it was his way of laughing.

« Maybe slightly. »

« Come quickly inside, I'll see what I can do... »

You catch the hand that doesn't hold his wound and it makes you both freeze for a few seconds, it's the first time you touch each other, his hand is big, rough and very warm, your little fingers can't wrap his hand completely and it makes your heart beat harder in your chest.   

 You look at each other like this for a few seconds hand in hand and then you pull yourself together, pull him inside and make him sit down on a chair, he doesn't whine in pain or anything he keeps his eyes anchored on your little shape, rushing to get the first aid kit.

« You... Can you take your hand off please? »

You see him nodding his head and then he takes his now bloody hand away, you hold your breath for a moment when you see the cut and then you get serious, this is not the time to lose your temper, Savage needs your help.

Savage needs your help...

« Okay... I'm going to have to take your top off so I can clean your wound and see if it's deep or not. » 

You raise your head to see his face, he is neutral as usual and you take this as a chord to continue, you then place hesitant hands on the bottom of his garment and gently lift the fabric, you feel the almost suffocating heat of his body against your palms, and this makes you swallow with difficulty.

After long minutes of struggling to remove the garment without causing your friend Zabrak too much pain, you finally manage to remove it and you now find yourself face to face with the extent of his muscular and tattooed torso, stars you would really like to trace the ink drawings of your finger...

Okay stop.

You take a long breath and get up to pick up wet cloths to clean up all the blood staining her skin, you approach and kneel down again in front of him and this time it is him that you hear blowing and you look up at him and you see pupils more dilated than usual, probably pain. Yeah, pain. 

You clean the cut silently with lots of cloths and when finished, you inspect the wound carefully and you push a sigh of relief, it's not deep and not so extensive it just bled a lot, so you don't have to stitch it up or anything, a simple bacta patch should be enough even if he'll have to watch out for it not to get infected, which you explain to Savage who just nods his head, you didn't hear much of the sound of his voice today.

You carefully place the bacta patch on the wound and gently caress it so that the wound is well impregnated with the product, Savage's breathing is blocked and you look at him worriedly. 

« Does it hurt? »

« Not really. »

He watches you with slightly squinted eyes, his yellow irises shine in the light darkness of the empty room, which gives an atmosphere of semi-darkness that envelops Savage and you, but his gaze makes him look like a predator and yet you are not afraid of him even if he dominates you more from his waist in this position.

« Not... Really? What do you mean ? » You finally ask in an almost inaudible voice. 

« Let's say it doesn't hurt or feel good... It just doesn't do anything to me anymore. » 

You lower your head over the scars that litter the yellow pieces of skin and you can't even imagine all the scars covered with black ink, Savage Opress has obviously not had an easy life and that breaks your heart.

Without thinking you bend down and press a chaste kiss on the patch covered wound, Savage exhales suddenly and then he lets out a hoarse grunt when you look at him after that.

His pupils are really dilated now and you hadn't noticed that he leaned towards you until you felt his warm breath against your face.

« I wouldn't do that if I were you little girl, I'm a monster and I might hurt you. » His voice is low, slightly hoarse and his eyes, Stars his eyes are so sad.

Your eyes widening at his words, is that really what he thinks of him? Is that what others call him? It makes your heart ache so much.

You put your right hand on his cheek and it seems to catch him off guard, but he doesn't back down.

« You're not a Savage monster. »

« How can you be so sure? »

« Because that day when that guy touched me without my consent you intervened, he had done it many times before but nobody had ever intervened Savage, you are the only one who protected me. »

The Zabrak growled at the mention of Rico and then calmed down when you rubbed your thumb against his warm cheek.

« And for that, thank you Savage Opress for being my savior. »

He huffed with amusement at your words but added nothing, instead he came even closer to you and put his forehead against yours, your heart missed a beat at this gesture.

His eyes remain open to observe you with indescribable emotions, you close your eyes and your cheeks get warm and so do the tips of your ears, fortunately it is rather dark because otherwise he would see how red you must be. Then he pronounces your name in a voice so soft that it makes you shiver.

« You deserve to be protected by someone - I mean - I'm not saying you're weak or anything… »

You laugh softly, Savage a strong warrior who loses his words, it is so endearing and it melted your heart of adoration towards this tall man.

You hear his frustration and you decide to open your eyes to see him with an anxious and hesitant look, but he still continues his sentence after a few seconds:

« I would like to be that someone. »

Silence.

Stars.

You swear your heart stopped beating for a few moments, and now you don't know what to say.

Seeing your lack of response, a sudden pain passes into his eyes and he slowly moves away from you, he takes your wrist and removes your hand still on his cheek.

He misinterpreted your silence.

« Oh no Savage I- I really wish you were that someone. »

He freezes himself while still holding your wrist in his huge hand, then he analyzes your face for any kind of lie and comes closer to you again when he sees none.

« Leave this planet with me »

He releases your wrist saying these words in a shy voice, you then put your hand back on his cheek and lick your lips which have become dry because of all these emotions, he lowers his gaze to your lips and then he comes back to your eyes and you feel him exhaling for a long time. 

« I’d really like to go with you, but maybe it's a bit ... Fast? »

Savage doesn't say anything he simply looks down, thoughtfully, because he knows deep down inside that you are right, he has lost his temper because of the surplus of unknown emotions.

Your cheeks turn red, again, in on this massive man who has become so vulnerable to you, he lets you touch him and heal him, you suspect that he has never known this kind of affection and that is what makes him so confused now and that pensive pout on his lips really makes you want to kiss him, but he clears his throat and starts to get up.

« Maybe I should leave, you were closing. »

« Oh, um, yes… »

He puts his top back on slowly without your help and you feel a little pinch in your heart at his sudden change of behavior, you would like to stay with him again but he is right: you have to close.

You try to hide your disappointment as best as you can by putting the medical supplies in their place and putting the bloody towels in the sink to start washing them, it might take a while before the pieces of cloth are completely cleared of blood.

« You can go, I'll clean it up. » You tell him from behind the bar and start cleaning the cloths with cold water.

Savage finishes adjusting his top when he turns towards you, his gaze quickly shifts from you to the door, you see him frown, rather his browbones, because he doesn't have eyebrows like everyone else of his kind. After a few moments he comes closer to you again and dominates you with all his height but you find it strangely comforting as when he had protected you from Rico by standing in front of you.

"I'll take you home, it's not safe for you to go home alone at this time. »

"Mmmh I don't live so far away and I wouldn't want to bother you-"

"It doesn't bother me. »

He crosses his arms on his chest and you can see his biceps becoming more imposing under the fabric of his garment, you swallow as you imagine his strong arms holding you against him.

"But Savage... »

"It's non-negotiable, I'll wait for you outside. »

You don't even have the time to say something that he walks out with heavy and confident steps, you smiling slightly then you continue to wash the tea towels as quickly as possible so as not to make him wait too long, you don't want to abuse his kindness.

                                             ☆────────☆

The night is rather cool and you feel the wind passing through your thin jacket, you shiver and you unconsciously get closer to Savage because a soft warmth radiates from his body even with the layers of clothes that cover his skin, he glances at you while walking near you, after another shiver that crosses your body he places his big arm around your shoulders, it's heavy and as you had noticed: it's very warm.

He brings you closer to his unharmed side and his warmth deliciously envelops you, you still huddle a little bit against him while walking towards your home.

« You're so... Warm, is that normal? »You ask shyly, maybe he has a fever because of his injury? Oh you really hope not.

« Yes, my species has a higher body temperature than yours. »

« Oh, so you don't have a fever, it reassures me. »

« Fever? No I'm fine don't worry little girl. »

"I'm not a little girl - it's you ! you're just ... too tall! »

You feel his shoulders trembling in a silent laughter and that makes you laugh too, he serves you gently against him in a gesture that wants to be playful and it makes you blush slightly, you raise your head to look shyly at his face and to your amazement a small smile stretches his lips, you feel your heart tightening and a soft sensation fills your body.

You don't have time to admire Savage any longer because you find yourself in front of the door of your somewhat dilapidated and not really welcoming building.

"We... We have arrived. »

You reluctantly pull yourself out of the Zabrak's embrace and walk to the front door of the building, he says nothing but you don't hear him move, he must surely be waiting to see that you get home without incident, even you both know that nothing can happen to you from there. But as you turn around to say goodbye you hear yourself instead ask:

« Do you want to go upstairs and get a glass of water? » 

You freeze.

You both know what this phrase means and it is far from innocent. Your cheeks warm up and your hands nervously grip the fabric of your jacket.

« Uh- No... I mean- Yes but- »

« Okay. » 

You freeze a second time and look up at him, his head is bent to the side as he watches you, his golden eyes shine even more than before in the Cantina.

« What? »

He blows with amusement and that relaxes you a little.

« I said : Okay. »

You whisper something, more for yourself than for him and then you turn around to type in the code quickly to unlock the door and then you push the door and signal Savage to come in first, which he does without really judging the state of the building you live in.

After that you lead him to the landing of your apartment and unlock the front door, as before you tell him to go in first as a courtesy and it's quite funny to see him lower his head to be able to enter without banging his forehead against the top of the door frame.

You close the door once you are both inside, you turn on the light as you pass by and let out a trembling breath when you see him in your personal space, he has his back to you and he observes the small objects on a shelf in front of him, your small apartment doesn't really have any decoration because in the end you are there just to sleep so you don't really see the point and you don't really have room for more furniture, your double bed already takes up almost all the space in the piece, a double bed is a luxury you have granted yourself because you like to have space to sleep peacefully.

« I’ll get your drink for you. »

He nods his head as he turns in your direction, while you walk to the "kitchen" which is actually just across the room, you pull a glass out of the cupboard then you look into the small fridge to take the last bottle you have left in the fridge and pour it into the glass, your hands shake a little for no apparent reason -perhaps because of the sexual tension between the two of you-. 

You go back to Savage and hand him the glass you have just filled for him, he takes it and his hands touch yours, his eyes look at you attentively while you stand still in front of him with your head tilted back to look at him as well.

You both know that the glass was a pretext for you to stay together a little longer.

Savage takes a sip of water and then he puts the glass in an empty spot on the shelf hanging on the wall next to him, and your breath is blocked as he brings his body a little closer to yours, the tension between the two of you is palpable and you don't know what to say anymore, words get lost and intertwine in your head.

« Little girl? »

 « ..Yes? »

You see his gaze descend to your lips and you moisten them with your tongue, you hear him blow, then his eyes come back to yours with an undisguised desire.

« I really want to kiss you. »

« Me too... Kriff, me too. »

He pushes a hoarse grunt then he bends down and his lips fall on yours with all the force of repressed desire, you push a light moaning to the soft and warm contact of his lips and you pass your hands on his broad shoulders while putting you on tiptoes then try to deepen this kiss so much awaited.

These strong arms wrap around your waist to press you against his hard and warm chest, his tongue comes close to your lower lip and you open your mouth eagerly, the kiss starts to become intense but you have to withdraw to breathe.

His breathing is fast and his pupils are almost fully dilated with desire, this expression on his face and his slightly swollen lips make him beautiful, it makes you want to engrave this image of him in your mind forever.

You lean back towards his face again but this time to "innocently" nibble his lower lip, a kind of surprised rumbling comes out of his throat and makes you laugh inside, you feel his big hand squeezing your hip.

« You're playing a dangerous game... I don't know if I'm going to be able to control myself if you continue. » His voice is low and hoarse, his shoulders are tense, he's obviously trying to restrain himself from throwing himself at you.

« So don't control yourself Savage. »

Your simple words seem to break something in him, he shudders and then lifts you off the floor as if you weigh nothing at all, you shout, a little surprise and place your arms around his neck to stabilize yourself, he then gently places you on your bed still undone from this morning then he steps back to remove his heavy boots and he also removes your shoes and socks and throws them nonchalantly into a corner of the room.

He then flues on the mattress to come and place himself above you, making the bed squeak under his weight, you hasten to put your hands on the warm skin of his neck and then on the back of his nape to attract him back to you for another kiss to which he responds immediately by leaning against your body, taking care not to put all his weight so as not to crush you.

You let out a little moan when one of his big rough hands passes under the fabric of your top, he caresses your belly tenderly while his lips let go of yours to come and kiss your jaw then the sensitive flesh of your neck, his touch is soft and comforting, it almost makes you forget the heat that accumulates between your legs.

And you are suddenly too hot because of the clothes you are wearing and the higher temperature of the Zabrak against you, so you squirm a little as you try to take off your jacket, you hear Savage giggling quietly and he straightens up to help you remove the annoying pieces of fabric leaving only your underwear. 

He bends back far enough to be able to admire the curves of your half-naked body, he makes an almost animal growl as his golden eyes scan your exposed skin, then you see him move his hips uncomfortably, you look down and-

Oh.

It looks absolutely huge.

His throbbing erection pressed against the fabric of his pants is already intimidating so you blush when imagining him without -which you might see very soon-, you feel a burning desire accumulating in the bottom of your belly and this moistens your panties by the way, you breathe a panting sigh as you rub your thighs together to try to reduce the pain of desire, it's the first time you've ever felt so excited by someone, he barely touched you but yet here you are as needy as a animal in heat.

Savage freezes, stopping the movements he makes to try to relieve the pressure against his hard limb, he sniffs the air avidly like a wild beast that has felt a wounded prey nearby, a hoarse moan escapes from his throat as his gaze descends on your moving thighs.

« …I feel your excitement. »

You don't have time to respond to his statement that his hands are already on your thighs and he quickly spread them apart, you make a surprised gasp that turns into a moan of pleasure when his face rushes between your legs and he licks a large band on the thin cloth that covers your sex while planting his black look of desire in your eyes that you close when his hot tongue falls hard against your swollen clitoris, you arch your back to the electrifying pleasure it arouses, your hands hasten to grab his horns as he continues his teasing against your panties now completely wet with his saliva and your excitement.

« Please, Savage, take off my... »

He hums with approval still nestled between your legs, then he steps back to remove your panties and your bra which he then throws on the floor and without waiting a second longer he plunges his face between your legs again. His celestial tongue avidly licks your smooth and swollen folds by going up from time to time to tease your clitoris, he closes his eyes to fully enjoy the taste of your excitement while you sigh of pleasure has the exquisite sensation that his mouth gives you and that quickly brings you closer to the edge.

His massive hands squeeze your trembling thighs to hold them in place as he sucks your bundle of nerves hard, you let out a strangled scream as your orgasm hits you violently, your walls tighten around nothing and he continues to suck your clitoris to prolong your pleasure as much as possible and then he licks all the moisture caused by your coming while moaning with happiness as if he finally drank a glass of water after walking all day under Tatooine's crushing suns. He finally backs off when you make a moan of protest as his hot tongue brushes against your hypersensitive clitoris. His lips and chin are covered with your excitement, you make a moaning sound at this sight.

« You have an exquisite taste, I could devour you like this every day sweet little thing. »

« Why not, but before that I need you- please. »

You see him swallowing, his Adam's apple coming up in the process, he quickly wipes his face and then eagerly removes his top without worrying about his recent injury and you are about to tell him to be careful but the words get stuck in your throat when he climbs up to your height to kiss you fervently his tongue hurrying to meet yours and you taste yourself in the kiss, which makes it more exciting in addition to his impressive erection pressing against your thigh.

You run your hand over the warm skin of his torso and then over his well-defined abdominals avoiding the bacta patch you placed on his wound earlier in the evening, Savage shivers with the sensation of your soft little hand touching his skin with such delicacy, the delicacy he has never experienced in his life.

He then exhales noisily against your lips when you finally touch his erection still painfully confined in his pants, his hips instinctively roll against your hand and you begin to make small movements back and forth on his circumference, he seems to lose patience with your deliberately slow strokes but he does nothing to stop you so you take advantage of this to place wet kisses against his cheek, jaw and then his neck that you begin to nibble in a playful way. He clenches his fists against the sheets of your bed, holding back from tearing his pants and penetrating you violently. But he doesn't want to hurt you so he prefers to suffer your sweet torture.

You don't want to make him wait any longer, so you free his cock from his restraints.

He pushes a faint sigh of relief and then he completely removes the tissue of his muscular legs and you widen your eyes comically at the sight of the impressive size of his hard cock also tattooed like the rest of his body - Stars, you can't even imagine the pain of getting tattooed at this sensitive spot -, he must at least be the size of your forearm and also the width, you shudder just by imagining him completely inside you.

He looks at your reaction with half-closed eyes, lust darkening his gaze. But even with his burning desire to fuck you now, he takes the time to ask you in a slightly shy voice:

« Are you sure you want this? »

« Yes I do. »

« Are you really sure? »

Without further ado you grab the base of his hard cock and guide it towards your needy entrance. Savage's grunt echoes against the walls of your apartment, can surely be heard from outside but you don't care, you just want the massive Zabrak deep inside you. He puts his warm hands on your hips and he starts rubbing his head of his cock up and down on your slit, teasing your swollen clitoris as he passes by, making you moan in the process.

He gives you one last look to give you time to stop everything, -which you obviously don't do- and then he starts to penetrate you gently, giving you time to get used to his circumference little by little. You moan in unison as he sinks down to the guard, he is so deep inside you, your sensitive walls stretch to their maximum to accommodate his huge tattooed cock, it's painful yes you don't want to lie, but the desire you feel for him sweeps away all the discomfort. Savage closes its eyes for a few seconds enjoying the sensation of your tight pussy, then he looking at you again and it lowers its gaze to where you are intimately connected.

« You take me so well sweet little girl. » His right hand comes to press gently on the bump of your lower belly that his cock deeply buried in you creates, you both moan again has the sensation.

« You- you can move Savage. »

The hand always on your belly he begins to give small strokes of hips so as not to hurt you, your breath is cut off when he touches a place that makes you see the stars and you grab his broad shoulders.

« Faster - faster! Please… » you managed to say between jerky breaths.

He grunts darkly and clutches your hips strongly to take a faster pace, his blows are deep which makes you moan strongly, completely ecstatic. The wet noises of his skin slamming against yours are so obscene, and Stars you love it. He leans against you, his burning torso flattens against your chest and in his movements his skin rubs your hard nipples. You make a little scream surprised at the new sensation and you feel closer and closer to the end, your walls tighten like a vice around his sex and this makes your companion Zabrak moan, he puts his head in your neck and bites hard the soft flesh, the pain mixed with his cock that quickly sinks into you and his pelvic bone that comes to hit hard against your clitoris full of excitement make you momentarily lose the use of your sight and hearing.

You come harder than ever before and feel your moisture flowing down your inner thighs, your nails dig into Savage's shoulder skin and he shivers, his blows become irregular and you feel his cock throbbing inside you as you gently descend from your state of pure ecstasy.

« I’m near- where... »

    « Inside, don't worry... just fill me up Savage. »

He moans your name with a last blow, sinking deep inside you, then you feel the jets of his warm and thick seed filling you to the brim, you feel so full and satisfied at this moment that you sigh with contentment as you lovingly caress the base of one of the horns behind Savage's head, gently bringing him down from his state too. He nestles his nose in your neck, his sex always buried inside you, not letting a drop of his precious semen escape from your pussy -pure mating instinct-.

« I love you. » Savage's voice is soft against the skin of your neck, your heart is warmed by the words spoken by this man who deserves all the love of the universe. You tenderly caress his neck with a smile, tears of emotion forming in the corners of your eyes.

« I love you too. So much. »

He straightens his head, his golden gaze filled with adoration for you is planted in your watery eyes, he places a large warm and comforting hand against your cheek and then begins to caress it tenderly with his thumb. After a few moments of admiring each other, Savage lowers his face to come connect his lips with yours, kissing you slowly and full of emotion.

After long, tender and loving kisses you feel a wave of fatigue hitting your body and he seems to feel it too so he rolls to the side next to you, taking his cock reluctantly out of the inside of you making his semen flow out of your hole, that makes you shudder, feeling his thick semen flowing along you and then on the sheets already covered with a wet stain caused by your own excitement. Savage gets up then goes into the bathroom, you look at his large muscular and tattooed back as you pass by. You hear the tap water running, then it stop after a few moments and then he comes back with a small wet towel in his right hand.

« Let me clean you up. »

He starts to run the wet towel against your still swollen and a little sticky folds of your fluids, you hum with appreciation to his kind gesture. Your tall Zabrak is actually so caring with you, it makes you fall even more in love with him. After that he carelessly throws the towel on the floor joining your clothes and then lies back in your bed. You approach him to wrap yourself in his warmth to protect you from the cold air that starts to cool the thin layer of sweat on your body caused by your sexual intercourse. He puts his big arm behind your back to draw you even closer to his body, you put your head on his chest and you hear two hearts beating, another peculiarity of his species.

You begin to drowsy to the melody of his hearts beating in his chest, but you hear Savage whispering shyly to you:

« So... you are going to go with me? »

The uncertainty in his voice hurts you, he doesn't want to lose the only being in the universe that has given him affection for the first time in his life. You put a kiss on his chest to reassure her and it seems to relax him a little, but he's still waiting for your answer.

« Of course, how could I live without my hero by my side? »

He puff, while relaxing completely, he caresses your back tenderly when he feels you start to fall asleep, your breathing becoming regular he mumbles to himself:

« Yes, your hero. »

[stutterfly]

Swipe Right 01 | Context Switch | JJK (M)

Rating: M (Explicit 18+)

Pairings: Jungkook x Reader, brot7 x friendship

Genre: E2L, fluff, angst [later on], humor, [eventual] smut, PersonalTrainer!Jungkook, fuckboy!Jungkook, Nerd!Jungkook, Nerd/IT!Reader

Word Count: 12.8K

Fic Summary: Jungkook wasn’t always like this. Or maybe he was and you don’t want to admit that he had you fooled. You quickly discover he has a lot more to offer than exchanging pleasantries and awkward small talk. In fact, he never seems to shut up.

For the better part of a year, he’s held your irritation hostage, never passing up an opportunity to deliver savage one-liners at your expense. When he discovers you’re on Tinder, he turns up the brattiness factor and intentionally seeks you out. Who knows? Maybe if you gave him a chance he could charm the pants right off of you. Then again, maybe he’s just a fuckboy.

Tags: Fuckboy Jungkook, like cannot stress enough Fuckboy Jungkook but gets soft later, dirty jokes, talk nerdy to me, PUNS, friendship feels, sexual tension, Jin being bad at copying Mario’s accent, Namjoon being bad at accents

CW:  panic attacks, filthy language, this whole chapter is setup so like nothing too bad i dont think???

Series: Activate your SIMCard Fic: Swipe Right (1/?- Ongoing) Do not repost. masterlist // next chapter

(A/N: This is part of my “Activate Your SIMcard” series. Each member of BTS has their own AU in which IT/TechSupport/NerdReader gets dating help/advice and ends up falling in love with them instead. As with a dating sim, the same characters are utilized--same professions, similar scenario placement-- but different interactions/pathways lead to different romances. ~Anyway here’s the Jungkook route.~ The Namjoon route, “Love Bytes” is currently in the works.)

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Nerves wrack your stomach as you make your way down the hall, clinging to the man beside you. His strides seem gigantic next to yours and you find yourself struggling to keep up with him. “Stop walking so fast, Namjoon.”

The man laughs, but slows his pace just enough to allow you to walk side-by-side. “Sorry. I’m just excited for you to meet them.”

Digging your fingernails into the flesh of his elbow, you swallow hard. It’s been a couple months since the young English professor stumbled into your life holding the pieces of some very expensive, very shattered college property. State of the art technology, brand new, busted in less than a week of his arrival. He’d get the biggest chew-out of his life if he presented it to your boss, and you were too sympathetic to let that happen.

While you’d willingly paid for the whole thing out of pocket to cover for the newbie, it had definitely put a strain on your finances and what little social life you had. Within a week he’d worked up a repayment plan than spanned the course of a year. He even started buying you a coffee every Friday as an apology for how long it was going to take.

After a few months of bonding over kung-fu movies, life before Namjoon’s friendship seemed like a distant past, a hazy dream. It was natural that your new bestie wanted to grow your pitiful social circle. But there was a reason you didn’t let people get close to you. The fact that Namjoon had slipped past your defenses so fast made him an anomaly worth dissecting for scientific discovery.

Just the thought of having to now socialize with people you don’t know has your temperature boiling and your head spinning.

He attempts to tug his elbow away from you, and you stumble forward, keeping your death grip on him. “I know, but talking to people isn’t exactly my strong suit. Are you sure it’s best I meet all six at once?”

“You’ve already met Jimin,” he begins, clawing at your hand with long, veiny fingers until you release your hold on him, “but he’s not coming tonight, so don’t worry... you can relax a little.”

Your face twists into a sour grimace as you try to sputter out a response. “I-Pfft. I mean. Jimin’s a model. His face is on billboards and shit. Like… how is that supposed to not be intimidating?”

“Jimin is the world’s biggest sweetheart,” he laughs, shoving his hands into his pockets as you continue down the hallway. “You don’t have anything to be afraid of. I have a feeling you two will get along fine once you stop being so shy.”

You huff and tick your jaw a few times before wringing your hands together. Maybe.

“Anyway. Taehyung is out of town on business, but you can meet him another time. He’s kind of quiet when meeting new people too. Hoseok and Yoongi texted they might be a little late. It’ll just be Jin and Jungkook you’re meeting now. And it’ll be just the four of us for a bit.”

A deep breath escapes you as you hook your elbow with his. “Okay. I just… I’m nervous.”

He stops at the door at the end of the hall and looks down at you. “Give them a chance. If you’re still feeling bad in an hour, then we’ll leave, and I’ll hang out with y’all separately from now on. Deal?”

You eye his extended palm peeking out from beneath the crook of your twined elbows before a smile creeps across your face. You shake his hand. He always knows what to say. “Deal.”

As Namjoon knocks, you leave the comfort of his side, realizing how your anxious clinging might be mistaken for a romantic gesture. You begin to shrink back, trying to hide in his shadow before the door opens. You’re about halfway there when a young, well-built man appears, prominent leg muscles bulging from beneath his basketball shorts as he props the door open with his foot. There’s a cup of instant noodles in his hands, and you’re pretty sure at least half of its contents are dangling from his mouth.

The scent of garlic and rosemary drifts into your nostrils, and you freeze as you cower behind Namjoon, realizing how long it’s been since you last had a decent home-cooked meal. You were promised free food so maybe it won't be so bad after all.

“Ah, Namjoon,” he greets and gestures with his head towards the domicile. “Come in--Oh!”

He chokes a chunk of noodles back into the paper cup as he notices your figure standing behind the tall man.

“Jungkook, this is Y/N,” Namjoon says, stepping to the side and pushing you out into the light of the apartment “I told you she was coming tonight, remember?”

Jungkook’s dark brown eyes widen and he pumps a fist into his chest a few times as he tries to get the remnants of spicy noodles dislodged from the back of his throat. Namjoon sent a bunch of texts this week making sure it was cool to bring someone to hangout night since he’d made a friend at work and wanted everyone to meet them. The way the texts were worded definitely didn’t give any indication that the friend he was bringing tonight was a woman. Maybe they did. Maybe he should have read more of them.

The muscular man before you holds the remaining food in his cheeks and waves bashfully with two fingers as he swallows. "Jungkook," he mumbles, as if the name itself is introduction enough and all but sprints from the room.

Seconds later, a new voice shrieks out from the other room. “What are you doing eating that?! Dinner will be ready soon! Jungkookie if you don’t put that down--!”

A dull smacking sound accompanies the clattering of silverware and plates. You swallow hard, trying to think about anything other than the way the young man had rushed out of the room at just the sight of you. Maybe you’re just that ugly.

“Hey! I’ll eat! I’ll eat! I promise!” Jungkook cries out. His voice drops an octave. “Namjoon is here.” Their conversation becomes indiscernible, but you can’t shake the feeling that you are definitely the subject of their quiet discussion.

You throw a worried glance in Namjoon's direction. "Did I do something wrong?" your voice is hushed as you work your sneakers off, trying to hold in the crazy amount of anxiety that threatens to unscrew the top of your head and send your brain exploding into the ceiling.

Namjoon shakes his head, unbothered by his friend’s odd behavior. "Honestly, I texted him a bunch this week to make sure it was cool and I got one-word replies so I'm wondering if he even read them." He bites his lip and spares a glance back at you, knowing he probably should have kept that to himself.

"Oh," your heart sinks into your stomach and threatens to fall out your butt as you straighten your spine. "If that's the case, should I... leave?"

"Leaf?!" A bright green piece of lettuce is thrust into your face. "How about a whole salad? You can't go before you try it! It's unbe-leaf-able."

You blink in rapid succession, trying to stifle a laugh at the cackle emanating from the man whose bony fingers are holding the lettuce. It sounds like a... windshield wiper? A giggle slips out, stronger than your will to keep it tucked behind your lips, and it only seems to make the grin on his face stretch impossibly wider. Heavy shoulders rise and fall with his laughter, causing the bright pink apron across his chest to wrinkle.

Namjoon groans. "This is--"

"Now do you smell that delicious flavor in the air? Because this just a taste of what you will find at my amazing restaurant 'Heart and Seoul'," he announces, cutting off the man beside you as he clutches the lettuce to his chest with eyes closed. "Where I give you a piece of my heart and soul... Some refer to me as Worldwide Handsome, others call me the God of Cookery. Some call me an angel and believe I fell from heaven." He bows with a flourish and takes your hand in his. "But you can call me..." He finally looks at you, a dark smoulder in his features that sets your cheeks on fire. "Later?"

He seals your fate with a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. Your jaw, which has been hanging open for some time, finally decides to snap itself shut.

"This is Seokjin, and he's going back into the kitchen to finish making dinner." Namjoon is already ushering his friend back towards the kitchen and chiding him as you purse your lips together to hide the smile spreading across your face. Did you just stumble into some alternate universe where all of the men you meet are ridiculously good-looking?

"It's nice to meet you, Seokjin," you call after them before letting your eyes wander around the room.

Paintings line the walls and photos sit on the bookshelf in the corner. As you approach the shelf to get a closer look, you realize those aren't books, but video games. There must be hundreds. Don't people use cloud storage for most of their games now? Your eyes curiously scan the photos on the top shelf. The man who had introduced himself as Jungkook is in all of them. There's another man in a couple that you don't recognize, but his gaze is piercing and cold when he's not smiling. You're able to pick Jimin and Namjoon out in a few, but it feels like looking at a family photo. Everyone seems so close; it makes you envious.

You lick your lips and can't help but admire the collection of video games underneath. You crouch to get a better look at the ones lining the bottom shelf. You're surprised to see there are games for all types of consoles: PS4, XboxOne, Switch, WiiU, Nintendo DS, SuperNintendo, PlaystationVita, PC... The list keeps going. Jealousy spikes your gut as you note a Mass Effect "SSV Normandy" ship figurine on the shelf above your head. You eye it with wonder and pride as your memories flood with the hours you spent playing the trilogy. Your fingers reach out to brush against the raised letters on the side of the ship.

"Have you played Mass Effect?" a quiet voice asks from behind you.

You jump in place and spin on the balls of your feet in a fluid motion that nearly sends you careening into the basketball shorts in front of you. Surprised by how close Jungkook is standing, you gasp and stumble back into the bookshelf, causing it to wobble and bring some of the frames filled with photos tumbling down onto your head. You wait for the impact but it never comes.

As you look up, Jungkook has several frames balanced on his arms and between his fingers, carefully maneuvering them away from you and back onto the shelf. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Namjoon told me you liked video games too and I saw you looking at the Normandy and I thought maybe you've played it. Ah, I'm sorry."

It's hard to miss the crestfallen way he rubs the back of his neck and stares at the floor once he places all the photos back on the shelf. You're still in shock that he caught everything before it smacked you in the head, but you force yourself to respond anyway. "No, it's okay. I'm just a jumpy person. It's my fault. I'm just glad I didn't break anything. I'm... asari? Get it? 'Cause like, I'm sorry... but also hot blue alien chicks, am I right?"

He smiles wide and laughs softly as he offers to help you up. As you take hold of his hand, you're quickly thrust to your feet with an ease you weren’t quite expecting. You steady yourself by reaching out to grip his arm, a movement you reverse the moment you feel the firm muscles beneath his t-shirt.

"Thanks," you mumble. Feeling his hand tense around yours, you take it back and twiddle your fingers. "So what decisions did you make? Renegade or Paragon? Rachni Queen? Samara's mission? Quarian and Geth dispute? Genophage?" You pause only to take a breath. "If you let Wrex die, we can't be friends."

He blinks at you a few times before breaking into a relaxed smile. “Of course not. What kind of monster do you think I am?”

You allow a relieved sigh to pass your lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so painful after all.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You must have made a good impression that night. It’s been nearly a month and Namjoon’s friends have started pulling you into their group texts and Saturday night plans. This had been fine by you since you rarely had anything going on. Honestly it was kind of nice to be included.

While you still don’t exactly know everyone, you feel fairly comfortable talking with your new friends. Seokjin is absolutely hilarious. He’s so full of himself that his cockiness rides the line between charming and annoying; it’s hard to decide which aspect overwhelms his personality more. But you know that you find him irrefutably, irritatingly attractive because of it.

Jungkook is still polite and rather gentlemanly towards you. Your conversation about Mass Effect was enough to tide over any residual awkwardness regarding your initial meeting. He’s just a muscular, nerdy introvert who seems genuinely nice. However, Namjoon insists that Jungkook is still hiding a louder, brattier side when you’re around. He’s got this theory that since you’re a friend of a friend, Jungkook is holding back his usual antics for some reason. The harmless little crush you’ve developed on him has you secretly holding out hope that it’s because he wants to ask you to be his girlfriend. You’ve considered asking Jin what he thinks, but that man has no tact and honestly you’re afraid he’d just ask Jungkook with you standing right there.

Hoseok is a ball of smiling energy, one who has been begging you to visit his dance studio. It’s hard to say no, but you’ve managed for this long because of the very real possibility that you won’t be able to do anything but stare at the dazzling way he moves. He seems to take pride in his ability to make others feel good and absolutely beams when he’s the cause of his friends’ happiness. You can easily see yourself talking to him without Namjoon around to act as a buffer, which is amazing for someone with your level of social anxiety.

Yoongi is quiet, but when he speaks his words are sharp with purpose. Some people might mistake that for coldness, but you can tell he has good intentions and a soft heart underneath. His pointed remarks in the group interrogations have poked fun at you, but never in a condescending or cruel manner. And it’s certainly not in the way you see him absolutely roast the others. Maybe he’s taking it easy on you.

Jimin is still so beautiful to look at it devastates you, leaving a flustered, stuttering mess behind every time he leaves. Now that he’s become aware of the effect he has on you, he’s been testing the waters of your friendship with some teasing that borderlines flirtation. But you have a feeling he’s just screwing with you because he finds it funny to see you squirm. You’re hoping to build the confidence to dish it back some day.

Taehyung has been a little standoff-ish, but Namjoon had already warned you about that. You wonder if it’s because he’s a hundred times richer than you’ll ever be. Despite seeming like he’s in a different social class, he still seems deeply fond of his friends, and relatively down-to-earth. He’s a bit quirky, but he’s an artist, so you expect that kind of thing.

Namjoon says that he’s known almost all of them since college, so he’s been able to absorb most of the discomfort associated with meeting new people. He’s sweet, and more relatable than you originally would have thought for an English professor. He’s kind of like a pillar that you never knew your life had been missing. And now that he’s got your back, you can’t go back.

The smell of coffee pervades the air as you skim an article on your phone regarding the latest Halloween skins for Overwatch. You’re supposed to be meeting Namjoon here but Seokjin, and Jimin showed up and have been chatting about their plans for the weekend. Apparently they throw a Halloween party every year and it’s Jimin’s turn to host. Seokjin is supposedly in charge of planning the decorations due to his love for theatrics and has been discussing the possibility of a haunted house walkthrough. You smile at the thought of Seokjin popping out of the shadows to drop fake spiderwebs on people. It sounds like the kind of thing he’d get off to.

Namjoon flops down on the couch next to you. “You’re coming, right?”

You’re broken from your thoughts as you scroll further down the page. “E-Excuse me?”

“The Halloween party. You coming?”

You look up from your phone, feeling everyone’s eyes on you. “I mean… I don’t want to intrude on your group thing.”

“You’re not intruding!” Jimin, Jin, and Namjoon’s voices all stack upon each other and you’re taken aback by the sound.

Jin frantically scrambles to make you feel included. “Y/N, we just assumed you were coming. Of course you’re invited! You can help me get everything set up for the scary walkthrough. Please come.”

“Don’t give her work to do that you should have already figured out,” Jimin hisses before sending a warm smile your way. “I’ll text you the address later. It’s a costume party so make sure to dress up!”

Your bottom lip unconsciously protrudes in a pout as you pass a discouraging look Namjoon’s way. “What are you going as?”

He gives you a heartfelt, dimpled smile. “Sherlock Holmes,” he says with the worst british accent you’ve ever heard in your life. “World’s greatest detective.” He drops his accent and starts gushing. “The tweed suit is fairly iconic and most people will recognize the costume so I think it’s a safe option. Originally, I was going to go as Judge Di but Jimin kept telling me no one would get it. It would take some research to really get a feel for how he’d dress, but I’d be willing to put in the work.”

Your eyebrows furrow. “Judge Dee? Like…. Judge... Ju...dy?” you trail off in confusion, immediately regretting your decision to ask.

Jimin throws his hands up as if this is the proof he’s needed to convince his friend that he’s wrong. “You see? I told you no one knows who that is.”

“Judge---! Really?!” Namjoon looks like he’s about to go off, but he shakes his head and sighs. “You know what? It’s okay. I look really good in a tweed suit. That’s all that matters.” He finished his statement by gesturing towards his chest.

You can’t help but laugh. “You’re such a dork.” You turn your attention to the others and raise your eyebrows at them. “What about you two?”

Jimin drags his teeth over his lip and shyly smiles. “I’m going as Iron Man. Tae’s been helping me build my costume for a while now.”

“Jungkookie and I are going as Luigi and Mario,” Jin proudly states he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees while tenting his fingers. “I’m Mario, of course, since everyone knows he’s the best.”

You roll your eyes. “Sounds like you, Seokjin.”

“What will you come as?” he questions with a smirk, cocking a mischievous eyebrow at you.

“Well...” you hesitate, knowing that most costume shops will be sold out of anything interesting or slutty; at this point your options are limited unless you want to be a Crayola shit brown crayon. “I’m not sure yet,” you mumble, scratching your cheek sheepishly. “I only found out just now so I don’t have anything ready. I usually go over Jennie’s place, hand out candy in my pajamas and watch scary movies, so I don’t know if I should bail on her like that.”

Solid excuse. Great job, brain. Really. Can I sound like more of a loser?

“She can come too,” Jimin offers with a thoughtful tilt of his head and a warm smile. “It’s a very open party. Lots of people will be coming and going, so it’s no trouble if you want to invite more of your other friends, if that makes you comfortable.”

Other friends. Like you have more than this group and Jennie. You’re going to just pretend like you didn’t hear that part. You can already hear her shrieking at you to say you’ll be there. She loves dressing up and would be more than happy to exchange a night of handing out candy for a night of partying. You suppose you can always get some vampire teeth and dab some fake blood on your mouth, but it feels like a cop-out. It’s a solid back-up plan at the very least.

“Okay. I’ll think about it,” you murmur with a fleeting look of panic directed at Namjoon.

He offers a sympathetic smile and pats your shoulder. “It’s okay if you don’t come. I’m just saying there will be free food.”

Your spine straightens and you perk up.

“Free food?” The words on you’re about to utter spill from a different source. A chin drops into the space between Namjoon’s shoulder and yours. Jungkook’s hair is still wet, but thankfully it’s not long enough to brush against your skin. The soft, sweet, almost floral scent of his body wash wafts into your nose as you turn your head to look at him. You surmise he’s come directly from work if he’s showering in the late afternoon. You internally swat the butterflies playing with your ribcage, trying to remember how to act normal.

Jungkook smiles sweetly, his eyes nearly closing with how high his cheekbones have risen. “Where is this food?”

���At the Halloween party,” Namjoon comments with a dismissing wave of his hand. “I was just telling Y/N that she’ll miss out if she doesn’t come.”

Jungkook raises his eyebrows and drops his smile as his surprised stare pierces your periphery. “Oh, you’re not coming?”

“I was thinking about it.” You immediately feel the need to defend yourself. “I don’t have anything to wear.”

“So don’t wear--” Jungkook catches himself before the word anything comes out. “A costume,” he finishes simply, straightening his spine and clearing his throat. “I mean we can make an exception. No one’s gonna kick you out.”

A devilish grin spreads across Seokjin’s features. “I’m sure I can help you find a pink dress and crown if you’d like to be our lovely Princess Peach. We can give each other items.”

Jungkook’s eyes widen at his friend and Jin stares back with anticipation, waiting for him to make the mushroom joke he clearly set him up for. Jungkook purses his lips and quietly regards you. As the moment passes, Jin’s brow furrows and he crosses his arms in a huff, wishing that he’d said it instead. It’s been too long since you’ve blushed for his liking.

“Maybe I’ll show up in a leotard, spiked collar, and fishnets as Bowsette instead.” You nearly snort at your own joke.

Jungkook and Jin spill their surprise over one another.

“Whaa? Really?” Jin’s mouth hangs open, the image already permanently searing its way into his brain.

“You what?” Jungkook clamps his hands over the edge of the couch, hulking figure looming over you.

While Jimin and Namjoon are both oblivious what a Bowsette is, the words “spiked collar and fishnets” have certainly grabbed their attention as well.

You blink a few times, realizing how serious everyone has become as you sputter out a nervous laugh. “Kidding, guys. Kidding.”

Jin tuts in disappointment, slinking back into his chair. Jimin simply smiles. Namjoon breathes a relieved sigh. Jungkook starts walking away, distracted by the signage on the counter promoting a cinnamon chocolate chip milkshake.

“Besides, I’m more of a…” A lightbulb flicks on in your head and the thought comes spilling out your mouth before you can process it. “Oh, I have a cosplay from the gaming convention I went to a year ago. Maybe I can wear that.”

All three men lean forward, suddenly very interested in the concept of you using a cosplay as a Halloween costume. Jungkook’s head snaps in your direction just as he extends his hand to give his money to the cashier, but he drops it prematurely, sending coins scattering across the counter.

The sound causes all of you to look over at him and he quickly turns back to the cashier. She raises her eyebrows at him as he scrambles to recover all of the money for her. His ears turn bright red from the attention and you can’t help but put yourself in his shoes, cringing at the embarrassment coursing through your veins at the thought of swapping places.

Spinning back to face the others, you find Jin and Jimin on the edge of their seats, staring at you. Namjoon blinks at you and tilts his head expectantly. “You were saying?” he prods. “Something about an anime costume?”

Suddenly you’re embarrassed for yourself rather than Jungkook. “Don’t be weird, Joonie. It’s just a Princess Zelda cosplay.” You scratch your cheek in contemplation, murmuring, “Actually, I don’t even know if it still fits since I’ve gained some weight since then.”

Namjoon pats your shoulder assuringly. “Ah you’re fine. Don’t worry too much about it, ok?”

“He’s right. Just bring your smile, cutie,” Jimin says encouragingly.

You blush at the nickname and grin in response. He said it innocently enough, but you get the feeling that you reacted exactly as he had hoped because he exchanges a smug smirk with Seokjin. “See? Bring that.”

“Ah, you guys are embarrassing me,” you mumble, diving back into the article on your phone. “I’ll talk to Jennie about it later.”

Jungkook listens carefully as he tongues his cheek and waits for his drink to arrive at the counter. Are you really going to show up in that? He pulls out his phone and starts skimming amazon. There’s no way he can pass up the opportunity, regardless of what’s at stake.

A familiar veiny hand sets the drink down on the counter, and he outstretches his palm. “Service was good, yeah?”

Jungkook looks up from the checkout page and locks eyes with Yoongi. He scoops a large portion of whipped cream from beneath the lid and pops it in his mouth thoughtfully, smacking his lips as he washes it down with a sip through his straw. Yoongi raises his eyebrows at him expectantly, but remains silent.

“Hmm, I’ve had better. Maybe if I had some more whipped cream?” Jungkook suggests as he tilts his cup forward and gives it the tiniest shake, shit-eating grin strewn across his features.

Unblinking, Yoongi squirts a puff of cream into the top of the container before loudly setting the can on the counter. Satisfied, Jungkook reaches into his pocket and fishes out some money for a generous tip. “See this is why you’re my favorite barista. You always make it just how I like it.”

Yoongi forces a smile as he stuffs the cash into the half-filled tip jar. “The Java Stop values your patronage, customer.”

He catches a glimpse of Jungkook’s phone screen before the younger man snatches it from the counter and walks away. What the hell is he up to?

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

You curse your past self for choosing Zelda’s outfit from Twilight Princess rather than Breath of the Wild; style over comfort rarely is a good choice, but it’s a choice you often repeat without forethought. It’s tighter than you remember, and not just because there’s a corset sewn into the chestpiece. As you sit in the passenger’s seat of Jennie’s Civic, you fidget with the hem of your dress. Without taking her eyes off the road, she reaches over and slaps your hand.

“Stop it. You look great.”

You rub the back of your wrist and pout, knowing it does nothing to change her mind. You eye her tattered dress, wishing you could pull off something so slutty with the same confidence she does. White contacts make her look even more ethereal than she normally does. Natural waves and curls poke out from beneath the bent witch’s hat atop her head and you can’t help but admire her beauty.

“I look like a nerd,” you say, feeling shittier the longer you compare yourself to her. It’s not her fault. You’re just insecure and wish that you could be more like her rather than the you that you are.

“You are a nerd,” she laughs. “What’s wrong with that?”

You smile. “Nothing, I guess. I don’t know why I’m so worried about it. It’s not like I’m gonna be getting laid any time soon. This costume solidifies it.” Negativity is something you’re used to dosing yourself with, but you know it’s an action you need to work at correcting.

“Hey if no one wants to fuck you in a Zelda costume, do they even deserve to fuck you?” Jennie asks, wagging her pointer at the ceiling as if scolding some invisible source above. “I don’t fucking think so.” She tuts for a second. “So speaking of… Which ones are off limits?”

You scoff and stiffen in your seat, trying to play dumb. “What? What’s off limits?”

“Y/N,” she starts in an accusatory tone. “I’m sure there will be lots of hot people there, but I’m talking about seven hot people in particular. Now if they came up to me and said ‘hey Jennie you so fine you wanna suck all seven of our dicks?’ I’d be like hell yeah I’ma suck all seven dicks. Get in a circle and let me at ‘em.”

You smack your hand to your forehead, wishing you could purge that image from your brain.

“Now I’m just saying in this hypothetical situation that I would never turn down going down on any of them if they asked. Unless I remembered that one time you told me you were crushing, maybe, just maybe I wouldn’t suck that particular dick.”

“We’re about to go see these people. I don’t want to be thinking about this while sipping my drinks across from Seokjin. That man can smell fear, shame, and insecurity,” you mumble, looking out the window at the trees lining the side of the road.

“So that’s why we get it out now before we get there. Can’t possibly slip out if you’ve already got it out of your system,” she explains with a confident smirk.

You cross your arms and give yourself a moment to truly think about the seven men. You certainly find all of them attractive, but crossing that line might make things weird. But maybe, hypothetically… “I don’t know… They’re all pretty hot in their own way…”

“You’ve got to be attracted to one more than the others,” she prods. “Come on, Y/N. Which one does it for you?”

Your tongue clicks against the roof of your mouth before you sigh. “I guess…” You subconsciously lick your lips and give it a few seconds before the memory of falling picture frames surfaces in your mind. An embarrassed smile flickers across your face as you give your quiet, honest answer. “J-Jeon… Jungkook.”

“The young one!” Her mouth falls open. She drums her fingers against the steering wheel excitedly and spares a delightful, yet surprised look at you for a fraction of a second before her eyes return to the road. “Really? I never would have guessed. But I haven’t talked to him much honestly. Doesn’t he work at that nerdy-looking gym you almost joined? What was it, Iron Kingdom? You could always sign up for personal training. Ya know, get some one-on-one time with those muscles...”

“He’ll think I’m dumb for not knowing how to do anything,” you mumble. “Besides that’s not why.”

You shake your head and pause to start counting the list on your fingers. “Okay so he’s got muscles, a cute laugh, he likes video games, he literally always smells so fucking good, he has a great smile, he’s nice, and like he’s so mature for his age. I’m so surprised.”

“I mean from the few times I’ve seen him, I thought for sure he’d be a tool and a major shithead,” she admits.

“I know, but seriously don’t judge a book by its cover. He’s been so chill and respectful and has made me feel so welcome over the last few weeks. None of that fuckboy shit you’d expect to get with younger guys like, he doesn’t talk over me, no mansplaining, he looks me in the eyes and not at my tits, and listens when I say something, even if it’s just me talking about my day.” You pause, registering the words you just said. “Wow, the bar is really low, isn’t it?”

“Sad, but true.” She nods, glancing at the GPS on the dashboard. It’s says you’re nearly there, but it’s kind of further out from the city than you’d both been expecting.

She laughs, mulling over everything you’ve said. “He seems kinda shy. You probably need to make the first move. Maybe you should tell him you have a big fat crush on him. Tell him you wanna hold his hand. Do you think he’d blush? I bet he would. I bet he has a cute flustered face. You should totally do it.”

Recalling the way his ears turned red at the cafe causes you to purse your lips, but the action can’t hide the smile curling at the corners of your mouth. So you have a little crush on Jungkook. Who wouldn’t? He’s practically flawless and totally swoon-worthy. Your heart races as you imagine his reaction to your outfit. Would he be taken aback by how good you look as one of the hottest, most iconic female characters in gaming history? He’s a huge geek so you know there’s a possibility that he could appreciate it. Sweaty fingers work their way down your wig, carefully smoothing out any loose strands. You hope he does.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Walking into Jimin’s place feels like entering a mansion. He told you that he lives with two other people from the same modeling agency, but you didn’t realize how big the place would be. Seokjin’s ability to gather this many decorations and display them with such attention to ambiance is certainly a feat worthy of praise. You find yourself lost in the orange and yellow lights that border each doorway and drape along the walls. Their soft glow is comforting as you walk down the dim hallway, exploring the house just enough to find the table filled with fruits and snacks.

Jungkook is nowhere to be seen and you find yourself breathing a sigh of relief as you sip punch out of a red plastic cup, filling a plate with an excessive amount of strawberries, peaches, and other sweet fruits. Contrary to your previous belief that admission would mean freedom from the thoughts swirling in your brain, uttering the words out loud has made you paranoid that everyone now knows about your secret crush. You’re hoping that drinking will remove the worry from your brain, so you do your best to down the liquid fast and refill your cup.

Jennie immediately hit it off with one of Jimin’s roommates moments after walking in. You’re envious because holy fuck that guy is tall and jacked, and he’s wearing a Captain America outfit. Jennie is about to make out with Captain America and you’re gulping down spiked punch from a little plastic cup. You appreciate being able to silently agree to split, but know that you have each other’s back if either of you were to suddenly express interest in leaving, even if Captain America is balls deep.

She’s an extrovert. She loves socializing. Tossing a strawberry into your mouth, you eye the table of snacks again. You don’t. You love food. Food or sex would be a tough toss-up for you depending on the menu, and in this situation food definitely wins. There’s a buffet table of appetizers looping around the room and into the kitchen. It doesn’t get much better than this, especially knowing it was catered by Seokjin’s restaurant.

You remove a glove and tuck it beneath your armpit as you stuff your face full of sweet treats and survey the amount of people on the dance-floor. There are a good amount of people here --some with ludicrous costumes-- and it makes you feel better about being able to blend in.

You had arrived fashionably late only because Jennie may have passed the house a few times, thinking this place couldn't possibly be it. A hand skates around the periphery of your vision and you frown as it attempts to surreptitiously claim a peach slice from your plate. Following the hand to its owner, you find a smile quickly claiming your mouth in place of the previous sour grimace.

"There's plenty of peaches left over there," you say, pointing to the table of snacks beside you.

"Mmm," Namjoon hums as he pockets the fruit in his cheek. "But this pile is better. I can deduce that you've already picked out the best pieces, Zelda."

You look him over from head to toe, examining the details of his tweed suit. You hate to admit he's looking dapper as fuck in this outfit. Despite often wearing three-piece suits to work, you rarely have time to stop and really appreciate just how flattering they are on his frame. Your eyes settle on the dark brown silk carefully knotted around his neck. "Don't you get sick of wearing ties?"

His eyes widen and he blinks at you as if you'd just told him that he sat in some gum. "Do you think I should have gone with the bow-tie? I spent hours weighing the pros and cons to both and which would be more quintessential to the whole ensemble. Did I make the wrong choice?"

You open your mouth to respond, meaning to allay his concerns and tell him that he looks fine, but he interrupts rather quickly. "You know what, don't say anything. I brought the bow-tie as a backup. It's upstairs in the guest bedroom. I'll go put it on."

You grab his arm just as he's about to leave, noting the plate full of chicken wings precariously balanced on one hand. "Namjoon. Chill. Your tie looks fine. I was only asking because I would strangle myself if I wore one all the time. Now gimme some of that chicken."

His eyes dart from you to the plate in his hand and his anxiety seems to visibly melt away, replaced with a soft smile. "I'm overthinking again, huh?"

The words have never come easier than they do now. "No shit, Sherlock."

At that he offers a laugh. "How about a trade? I share the wings for access to the princess's treasury of peaches."

"Deal," you agree with a smirk, wiggling your eyebrows up and down. "Wanna people-watch with me?"

He nods enthusiastically as he tosses a handful of fresh fruit directly from your plate into his mouth. "I was gonna wander aimlessly and socialize but this sounds way better."

"Glad we're on the same page," you murmur into the chicken wing at your lips, sucking the sauce off of it and scanning the room for any particular eye-catching costumes.

The flash of red, flowing satin catches your eye. Is someone wearing a bathrobe? Seriously? The taste of hot buffalo sauce causes your lips to tingle as you note the soft, fuzzy edges of the robe. It looks comfy, actually.

You elbow Namjoon in the ribs, directing his attention to the slender, black-haired figure gliding across the room. Namjoon opens his mouth as if to identify the stranger, but the flourish of the robe beats him to it. As the material spins, you catch a glimpse of tan skin peeking out from the chest, long legs exposed as he reaches for the sash at his waist.

The silk billows as it comes undone, cascading to the floor like a river of crimson. There's no mistaking it. You're now staring at the nearly nude, half-painted body of Kim Taehyung. You can't help the way you jaw drops open at the sight of so much skin being flaunted seemingly without a care in the world. Namjoon's hand flies up to cover your eyes, as if he's going to spare you the sight you've already taken in. Now that you've seen Taehyung in a thong, there's no going back.

Sauce-covered fingers pry his away from your eyes just in time to meet the piercing gaze of the man across the room. Is it mirth or anger that graces his features? It's hard to tell with a paintbrush trapped in the box his teeth make. He takes lazy strides across the room as you struggle to keep your eyes off the unforgiving fabric outlining every last curve of his dick. It's not until he's closer that you notice the thin belts crossing his hips, which appear to be holding six tubes of paint, three strapped to each side like gun-holsters. You have to admit they frame his crotch rather nicely.

It takes every ounce of willpower you possess to keep your eyes trained on his face. He carefully takes the paintbrush out from between his teeth and extends it to you. "Draw something pretty on me, Y/N. You too, Joon. Tonight I'm a human canvas on display for the universe."

Your eyebrow quirks as you exchange a look with Namjoon and set your plate down. "You know people are just going to draw a bunch of dicks on you, right?"

He scoffs, waving off your concerns. "Don't be so negative. I will have a beautiful mural by the end of the night. Mark my words."

"I think you're putting too much trust in the goodness of human nature," Namjoon comments, his lips pressing together in an attempt to hide the amused grin that is quickly spreading across his features.

Taehyung cocks his head to the side and leans forward with a lopsided grin. You're afraid he's about to get even closer and whisper some dirty secret into your ear. Instead he asks in a breathy, low tone, "Princess Zelda wouldn't draw such dirty things on me, would she?"

Twirling the thick handle of the paintbrush between your fingers, your eyes dip to the paints secured at his waist. His eyes chase the trail yours make down his side and his delight splits his mouth into a goofy grin. "Oh. Help yourself." He gestures to the colors available with a sweep of his hands just above his hips. "Feel free to use your fingers instead.” He pauses when your mouth falls open slightly. “You know, to paint... Just be careful what you grab, Princess," he jokes.

Removing your other glove with your teeth, you drape them over your shoulder and reach out for the tube of yellow paint, trying to hide the way your hand trembles. He looks down and smiles as the cold paint touches his skin. Before long you have the faint shape of 3 triangles at the center of his chest.

“How fitting,” he murmurs, offering an amused hum as you fill in the last triangle with a glob of yellow that threatens to run down his torso.

“Oops, sorry,” you apologize, moving to tap the brush against the excess, but he grabs your wrist before the bristles can make contact with his skin again.

“That’s alright. Let it do what it does. I like it like this,” he says, watching the clump of paint slowly slide down his midriff. “Besides I’m sure someone else can use it.”

“Like Sherlock!” you suggest, holding the paintbrush out for your companion.

Namjoon takes it begrudgingly and uses the excess yellow to draw a small smiley face beside the triforce symbol.

“Cute,” Taehyung laughs as he takes the paintbrush back from Namjoon. “I love it. Thanks guys.”

Just as he turns to find his next artist, a long object bars his path, pressing against his chest just above the collarbone. You follow the shape of the bar to its owner, revealing a grinning Hoseok clad in an officer’s uniform.

“That’s a bold choice Taehyungie,” he says, securing the faux nightstick into a loop at his waist. “Just make sure you keep that thing on…” He gestures to the small bit of material at Taehyung’s crotch and holds up a pair of handcuffs with his index finger before continuing, “or I’ll have to arrest you for indecent exposure.”

“Impersonating an officer is a crime, you know,” Namjoon says, even as he’s reaching out to touch the shiny metal. “Wait. Where did you get these? Are they real?”

You squint at the device in Namjoon’s hands, looking for the safety release latch like the cheap pair you bought to use with your ex. You don’t see it. That can only mean that these are the kind where losing the keys would have real consequences. But you’re not about to out yourself as the kinky freak you are, so you bring your nearly forgotten drink to your lips and guzzle what’s left in the cup.

As the empty plastic hits the table, your eyes happen to trail across the room and land on a crowd of people gathering around a very impressive, fully-lit Iron Man costume. Jimin seems to be soaking the attention up as the crowd grows ever larger. The massive room has begun to diminish in size, and it’s as though the once comforting lights are now wilting and closing in on you, threatening to strangle the air from your lungs. The adrenalin spiking your veins is telling you it’s time to seek the comfort of open space and solitude. Fast.

You duck beneath Namjoon and Hoseok’s arms, carefully sidestepping around Taehyung to avoid brushing against the wet paint on his skin. “I’m gonna get some air. Try not to get cuffed, Sherlock,” you manage to joke with a smile before turning on your heels and booking it from the room.

If anyone responds to your joke or even acknowledges your exit at all, it’s lost on your ears. Sweat beads on the back of your neck as you hastily attempt to make your way down the hall. If you can just get outside, you can breathe. You’ll be fine. You know it.

Warm bodies clutter the path to your freedom and you can’t help but feel more and more breathless by the never-ending apologies spewing from your mouth as you squeeze past each blockade. You don’t feel like yourself, even as you speak. Taking in sharp, greedy breaths like this isn’t helping. Why is this place so devoid of oxygen? Your body moves on autopilot, seeing the faces of the people you pass, but not feeling their eyes on you.

You float out of the front door, your head as light as a feather, but your eyelids feel like they’ve been anchored. You’re positive you’re about to gracefully glide down the front steps, legs becoming amorphous blobs beneath you that will surely allow you to fly. Just as you’re leaning into the momentum of gravity, two pairs of hands steady your shoulders and criss-cross around your midriff.

“Deep breaths,” Jennie’s voice briefly cuts through the ringing in your ears.

“Do you need to sit down?” The other voice spills into your eardrum as a rushed whisper, one that’s dripping with concern.

Huh? You work on steadying your breathing instead of trying to answer.

“What did she drink?” the familiar voice asks Jennie, the brief flicker of panic quashed by the evenness of his tone. “How much has she had?”

“Relax, Yoongi. Not even our lightweight champion gets drunk that fast,” Jennie reassures him as they help you seat yourself on the top step. “Are you familiar with panic attacks?”

Yoongi rubs the back of his neck and nods silently, backing up to give you some space.

“Jennie. I’m fine now. Thank you,” you mumble, shaking your head and regaining your sense of self. “I’m glad you have my back.”

“Of course. I saw you in the hall and I just knew.”

You jump when you meet the gaze of her white, eerie contacts, which causes both her and Yoongi to laugh. You look up at Yoongi. He shoves his hands into his pockets, long flowing shirt obscuring any flesh poking out from beneath it.

“Hey, you’re not dressed up,” you blurt, realizing he’s sporting a very goth, natural Yoongi look.

He scoffs before bending at the waist and baring his teeth. A single vampire fang is affixed to one of his canines.

You tilt your head like a dog hearing a strange noise. “What, only one fang?”

“Just as dangerous, princess,” he warns with a smirk, standing up straight.

You swear you see a wink, but then again maybe you’re imagining it. You have been known to exaggerate things in your head. Still your stomach somersaults and you focus your attention on Jennie. “I’m okay. I think I’m gonna chill out here for a bit. Get back in there and dance with… god what was his name? Jackson? Jae-beom?”

“Jin-young,” she corrects before biting her lip and glancing back towards the house.

“Go. Hottie McYoungie won’t wait forever,” you tease and point your thumb over at the man hovering above you. “Don’t worry. I’ll be fine with toothless over here.”

Yoongi rolls his eyes at the nickname but nods at Jennie. The answer seems to be satisfactory and she gifts you with a tight hug. “Text me if you need anything, okay?”

“Okay. Love you. Now go get laid.” You whisper to her before playfully pushing her back. Before you know it she’s scrambling up the steps and slips back inside, tattered dress swinging wildly with the sway of her hips, revealing just enough of her fishnet-clad thighs to draw Yoongi’s attention. There’s a fraction of a second where he wets his lips as he watches her go, but it’s gone in the blink of an eye. You don’t have time to tease because his dark eyes fall to you.

“Is there anything I can do?” His face is stoic but you can hear the sincerity in his tone.

“Wanna take a walk with me? I’d like to keep away from the big crowd.”

“I know the perfect place,” he says, hopping down from the steps and offering you his hand.

You take it with a smile and rise to your feet, carefully moving down the steps as you dust off your butt. The night air is a bit chilly and you start to work your gloves back up your arms to fight the goosebumps forming there.

That’s when you hear it. You want to misread the sound for a flute, recorder, oboe, or even someone’s radio, but you know those are all incorrect assumptions. It’s an ocarina: an ocarina playing a crude rendition of the opening to ‘Gas Pedal.’

Turning slowly, nothing can prepare you for the sight before you. Jungkook stands on the top step of the porch dressed in a green cap and tunic, tan leggings, and the ugliest dark brown boots you’ve ever seen in your life. He’s got the ocarina nestled between his lips, slowly descending each step with a roll of his hips that accentuates the definition of muscles behind the thin material hugging the shape of his legs.

Your eyes are wide, mouth falling open in surprise. “Jungkook?”

As he jumps down the last step he stops the tune and cups the ocarina in his hands, bowing slightly. “Princess.”

“What are you doing?” you ask, biting back the intimidated voice in your head that’s telling you you’re being picked on.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” he asks in a low tone, a crooked smile crossing his features as he takes a few tempered steps towards you.

You swallow. How are you supposed to answer that? You take a deep breath, trying to drive off the urge to run as he advances on you. Yoongi takes a few steps back and folds an arm over his torso, cupping his elbow as he brings a knuckle to rest against his mouth with intrigue. He couldn’t hold out for one more day? Should I step in? He brings his weight to the front of his foot, ready to diffuse the situation.

“It looks like you’re trying to fuck with me.” You stand your ground, clasping your gloved fingers and calmly resting them against your dress in true Zelda fashion.

Yoongi’s weight shifts back, retracting the step he had taken. A direct accusation isn’t exactly something he would have expected from you, but he finds himself pleased nonetheless. He certainly chose a difficult target this time.

Jungkook gets close enough that you can see the tick of his jaw and the part of his lips as he drags his eyes across your form, settling on the cleavage created by your corset. “Some of those words were right.” He pauses, leaning to whisper against the shell of your ear. “Can you guess which ones, Princess?”

Heat consumes your face as his posture straightens. He doesn’t budge past the space he’s already claimed as his, but he doesn’t move forward again to invade yours. He watches, basking in the full on show your face puts on for his own entertainment. First comes the confusion, next realization, and then shame.

It’s hard to tell if he’s coming onto you or picking on you. You swallow, throat growing drier by the second. “You knew I was coming as Zelda. Weren’t you coming as something else?”

He throws his head back enough to feign exasperation while keeping his eyes trained on you. “Come on. You don’t like my costume?”

Instead of giving you time to answer, he brings the ocarina back to his lips and blows an obnoxious amount of air through the hollow space inside, producing a piercing rendition of ‘Talk Dirty to Me.’

Your shoulders raise as you inhale, suppressing the irritation bubbling within your belly. You wince, turning your head as a particularly shrill note escapes the instrument. Yoongi’s expression sours as he plugs both ears with his fingers.

Jungkook immediately stops playing and offers a sheepish grin. “Oops. I learned that one for you. Maybe I need more practice. Do you want to help me?” He briefly pauses to wet his lips, presenting the ocarina to you. “I can show you how to blow.”

You grind your teeth as your jaw ticks back and forth a few times before answering, “No thanks.”

Yoongi silently tents his fingers over his forehead and tries to massage the secondhand embarrassment from his skull. This is a trainwreck waiting to explode and at this point there’s no looking away.

Jungkook raises his eyebrows at you as he stuffs the ocarina into a small brown pouch hanging from the flimsy belt at his waist. “Ah. Sorry, Princess. I don’t mean to insult you. You’ve probably already mastered the art. Hah. Maybe you could show me a thing or two?”

Unable to form a proper response, your lips purse as the wheels in your head spin. Say something clever. Think of a comeback. Something. Come on. But here you stand, mind blanking for even the simplest of clapbacks. You’re having trouble coming to terms with the fact that your innocent little crush on the once “sweet” Kookie has come crumbling down with his facade, leaving your chest aching with the humiliation of your naivety.

He looks you over, admiring the artistry in the gown you’ve lovingly crafted. For a moment he’s lost in the embroidery stitched into the sash swaying in the breeze of a chilly October night. “I love your…” he trails off, eyes darting across your shape to capture every last detail of your attire.

He pays special mind to the gems adorned at your hips, and the heavy-looking chain belt which links the sash to your dress. He marvels over the color and velvet texture chosen for the purple corset at your torso. The sheer attention to detail and craftsmanship in your costume stuns him into silence for half a second.

His eyes reach the perky mounds of flesh peeking over the top of the corset. Miraculously his voice resurfaces. “...costume.”

The way his dark eyes linger on your chest isn’t lost on you. Your cheeks burn in the cool air, despite the goosebumps littering your arms. You cross your arms over your chest, higher than you normally would to combat his lurid gaze. The green hat atop his head folds over itself as he cocks to one side. Dark, hungry eyes snap to yours, voicelessly pouting at your blockade. For a split second a guilty excitement pulses through you, but you’ll be damned if you’re the cause of an obviously already inflated ego.

“You never said what you think of mine,” he prods. His eyebrows wiggle up and down as he slowly runs his hands along his torso, as if feeling himself up is going to sway your opinion.

You tell yourself not to fall for it, that he’s playing you for a fool right now. Still, your jaw is tight as your eyes helplessly follow the flow of his fingers down his body. His pinky purposefully catches on the flimsy pleather strap acting as the belt at his waist. An impish grin spreads across his face as he notes the way your chest stutters out the breath you’d unknowingly held. Satisfied, his hands continue their languid journey down his body. Your eyes are glued to the way he traces the contours of his thighs.

Finally his fingers dig into the meat of his those muscles and you feel the need to look away before answering. “I hate it.”

He sighs. “Hate is a strong word. Are you sure that’s how you really feel? Why don’t you look at me when you say that?”

Strengthening your resolve, you force your eyes back to his smug face. Stupid doesn’t even begin to cover how you’re feeling at this point. Biting back tears, you swallow hard and do your best to remain composed. Here he stands, a crooked smile amplifying the air of arrogance surrounding him. He’s playing you. He’s been playing you this whole time hasn’t he?

“I don’t even know who you really are, do I?” your voice cracks, only adding to your humiliation.

“I’m the bad guy. Duh.” With that he cackles as he pulls the ocarina from his pouch, proceeding to play the melody from ‘Bad Guy.’

You spin on your heels and storm past Yoongi, the blood rushing through your ears in a distraught rage, drowning out the bitter sound of the notes. A pang of guilt strikes the half-assed vampire as he stares at his friend. “One more day. You couldn’t make one more day?”

Jungkook shrugs, making his way back up the stairs. “If you see Hobi, tell him I’ll have his money tomorrow.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

Dragging your hands across your face, you keep your gaze cast towards the ground.

How fucking idiotic, how self-absorbed have you been to assume that he’s been nice because he likes you and not because he was playing some game with you? He's probably just been waiting for an opportunity like this and you fell right into his trap. Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

A hand clamps down on your shoulder and you spin, ready to deck the person you assume to be Jungkook. Yoongi's eyebrows raise as you stand poised to punch. He ducks to the side just in time. As you realize your mistake, it's too late. The momentum brings you forward.

His arms come up around you in a soft embrace, one that you're quick to return. "It's just me," he mumbles, kneading his thumb against your back. "...Sorry."

You bury your face into his shoulder, allowing the tiara to slip from your head and hit the soft ground with a dull thud. Why is he apologizing? He didn't do anything wrong. You want to tell him that, but any sound you make might bring about a slew of tears you've been holding back. Instead you just squeeze your arms around him even tighter.

He awkwardly pats your back a few times, not quite knowing what to do with the hug that's lasting longer than anticipated. Sensing his discomfort, you pull away and adjust your wig as you offer an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry."

A figure approaches, bending down to pick up the forgotten adornment. Out of the corner of your eye you see him rub the dirt off the tiara. Jin carefully places it on your head. "A princess should have a crown."

You look him over, noting the giant overalls, red newsboy cap and hideous fake mustache. You can't help but laugh as he forces a hard blink and puckers his lips, alternating lifting sides of his mouth so the mustache comically tweaks itself in a seesaw motion. "I like your costume," you manage between giggles.

He grins back, donning an over-the-top Italian accent. "I a-like-a yours too! A beautiful costume for a beautiful a-woman."

"Please stop," Yoongi groans.

Jin ignores him, fiddling with the corner of his mustache. "I don't-a know where my brother went. I think he's a-scared of the haunted mansion."

You roll your eyes at the joke. That's right. Jungkook was supposed to be Luigi. "He's busy playing a dick for the night."

A look of realization washes over him and he nods, puffing out air through overly inflated cheeks. "Hmm. You know what might-a make you feel better? Helping me scare-a the pants off of people!"

He folds his elbow and holds it out for you, tempting you to lace yours around it. Channeling your bruised ego and hurt feelings into scaring people for fun? That might just work. You feed your elbow through the crook in his. "Zelda and Mario working together."

Jin laughs. "The dream-a team!" He makes a motion to skip towards the outer entrance to the basement that he's dressed up with spiderwebs and a large, hand-made sign that says "MARIO'S GHOST HOUSE." Beside the entrance is a giant blown-up decoration of King Boo, its pink tongue flapping in the breeze.

As you're tugged in the direction of his creation, he stops abruptly. "Oh, we haven't had that many people though. So we have to make the few that come through count!"

Yoongi's eyes light up. "Hey. I’ve got an idea. I’ll get you a the best customer. But you have to really scare him. I promise it will make your night."

Puzzled, you furrow your brows and tilt your head. “Okay…?”

Jin grins like a maniac as Yoongi makes his way towards the front of the house. “Come on. I’ll show you the best spots to hide.”

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

About twenty minutes have passed since Yoongi left in search of his promised customer. Only a few people have wandered in. You have to admit it’s therapeutic to watch people scream and jump when you bang on the false walls within the maze Jin has somehow constructed in this basement. Watching people run up the final stairs to safety leaves you with a feeling of satisfaction, always giving Jin a prideful high-five before returning to the beginning to await more guests.

“Ah! My-a new-a guests!” you hear Jin enthusiastically greet the latest people to stop at the entrance. “Are you a-ready to have fun?”

There’s some hushed whispering that you can’t quite make out from your hiding place within the set.

“Don’t be such a pussy,” Yoongi chides loudly. “Seokjin made this. Do you really think it’s that scary?”

“P-Pussy?” Hoseok stares wide-eyed at his friend and scoffs. “Don’t be rude. I just know Seokjin. It will be worse than whatever I think”

Is that Hobi? You were kind of hoping Yoongi would get Jungkook to walk through. Knowing what you do now though, you have no doubt that Jungkook would be unphased by something like this. All you can hear in your head is the echo of his obnoxious laughter and a pang of hurt slices through your heart. God, you’re so stupid.

Yoongi points to the Boo’s tongue flapping in the wind. “It will be like that, probably. It’s silly to be so afraid.”

Hoseok bounces from foot to foot in uncertainty. Even a police uniform can’t steel his spine or guarantee safety. “Why should I do this to myself?”

Yoongi sighs. “I’ll help you look at new places and… help you move. I’ll even be your roommate if the rent is too high.”

Hoseok is beaming. How long has he been asking for help searching? Jin looks from one man to the other, hiding the subtle smile beneath his mustache. He knew Hoseok wouldn’t go in so easily, that something had to be offered up, but he really didn’t expect Yoongi to go so far.

Hoseok points at Jin. “You’re my witness. I go through this and he’s my roommate.”

“If the rent is too high only,” Yoongi tries to reason, but it’s too late. Hoseok has heard what he wants to hear. He grabs his friend and marches into the depths of the basement.

Immediately you bang the walls on their journey down, feeling Jin rush past you to set up for the next scare. Hobi screams. “Never mind! Never mind!”

Yoongi scoffs, dragging his friend forward. “Come on, officer.”

You listen for their footsteps as you circle the walls behind the maze. Hobi’s frantic yelling breaks through the room, slipping into loud curses. You pull your glove up and wait, peeking through the hole you’re hoping he’ll get close enough to. Even shrouded in shadows, Yoongi’s form peeks out from around the corner.

“Don’t think about the dark,” Yoongi says, slowly shuffling towards the wall with Hoseok crouched behind him, using him as a shield from any more scares. “Think about how you bet Jungkook he couldn’t stop himself from trying to get in Y/N’s pants, not even for one month.”

You freeze. Yoongi knows you can hear him, right? He has to know.

“Think about how well he was doing. You would have been cleaning his house tomorrow. Maid Hobi, bound by servitude.”

“I know…” Hoseok groans. “It would have been awful. He’s so messy! I wouldn’t even be getting paid! What was I thinking?”

“But instead, he bet you a month’s rent that he could,” Yoongi continues loudly. “He blew it tonight for the chance to dress up as Link and tease Zelda. He only had one more day.”

“He’s a dumbass,” Hobi comments with a nod, turning to look at the ceiling and making sure nothing is going to drop down on him.

You swallow, taking in the revelation Yoongi has just bestowed upon you. All this time you had spent thinking Jungkook was a sweet gentleman was actually due to Hoseok making a bet with him? You would rather have known Jungkook was a dick straight up because now the innocent, harmless crush you have on him feels so dirty and foul that you wish you could swipe it from existence.

It’s Jungkook’s fault. He lied. He pretended. You know this. But still you can’t help but partially blame Hobi for the bitter taste in your mouth. As Yoongi passes, you reach out, letting your fingers swipe down Hobi’s forearm and retract through the hole in the wall as he lets out a high-pitched scream.

“Hoseok, get off.” Yoongi tries to push away the man climbing onto his back.

“Something grabbed me! Something grabbed me!” Hoseok wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist and huddles close to his neck pointing. “Over there! It grabbed me from over there!”

“Let’s keep moving, then.”

“No! No more! I’m standing right here until the sun comes up.”

“How is it standing if your feet aren’t touching the ground? I won’t carry you all night,” Yoongi says, adjusting his stance to compensate for the weight on his back.

“You will, too,” he pouts.

Jin helps you position a furry spider decoration above them, slowly dangling it lower until it finally hits Hoseok’s shoulder. The wail that escapes this grown ass man almost makes you feel bad. Almost. He swats the creature into darkness as he spurs Yoongi on by digging his heels into his belly. “Get me out of here! Please!”

Jin’s shoulders move up and down with the sound of his laughter as he slaps your hand in victory. Scaring Hobi made you feel a little better at least.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

The party has died down quite a bit and at this point Jimin has been passing you far too many drinks as he and Namjoon regale you with tales from college. Namjoon is clearly feeling toasty, laughing like a dork at every memory Jimin brings up. Apparently they were roommates and Jimin has a liberal arts degree from four years of being undecided.

Your head lolls around to rest on Namjoon’s shoulder, your backs pressed against the bottom of the couch as Jimin sits cross-legged in sweats and a t-shirt on the floor before you, his costume laying discarded beside him. He’s spinning his latest story of how Namjoon had accidentally thrown up on some girl he really liked. Yoongi silently lays on the couch behind you, smirking with his eyes closed. You can’t tell if he’s sleeping or just relaxing as you struggle to stand, using Namjoon’s shoulder as leverage to prop yourself up.

“Bathroom?” you ask distractedly, searching the room like a door will appear if you look hard enough.

Jimin smiles pointing at the doorway across the room. “Go out that door, take a left down the hall. It’ll be on your right.”

Your head dips a bit as you try to take in the directions. Namjoon looks up at you as you stumble forward, clearly off-balance. “Do you need some help, geeksquad?”

“I’m fine,” you mumble, hating the nickname he’s given you from work. “I’ll be right back. Don’t drink my drink.” You narrow your eyes at Jimin and he blinks at you in surprise, like you’ve accused him of such a heinous, unthinkable crime.

Rounding the corner, you pass a grinning Taehyung being led upstairs by a cute girl in a red beret, black and white striped shirt, and miniskirt with suspenders. Art hoe? Mime? It’s hard to tell what her costume might be. While his skin is covered in a beautiful mess of colors, your tri-force symbol still stands untouched at the center of his chest. You smile as you watch him climb the steps, clearly distracted. But as his back is revealed, your eyes widen at the sight of a mural of painted dicks. Well. At least he can’t see them.

You walk down the hall for what feels like an eternity, passing a few closed doors on either side. Maybe you should try one? Knocking on the one closest to you once, the door swings in and you lose your balance, not expecting it to open.

“What took you so long? I almost came without you.” The voice is pouty and low, somewhat familiar. He gasps when he realizes you’re not the person he’s been waiting for.

You stumble forward, falling to your knees and catching the bed frame before your face smacks into the wood. As graceful as you can manage, you pull yourself up. “Sorry! I didn’t mean to! I didn’t realize it was open and I was just looking for the---” The will to speak leaves you as soon as you see him.

A very sweaty, very naked Jungkook crosses his arms and he leans back expectantly, smushing the pillows behind him into the headboard. Your eyes take in the pleased expression on his face, quickly scanning the muscles of his folded arms, his chiseled abs, his bulging legs. The pointy green hat he had been wearing earlier tents across his sculpted hips and pelvis, thankfully obscuring any shape hidden beneath it.

“I didn’t think I’d see you again tonight,” he says, licking his lips as he watches your form tremble, practically falling apart in front of him before adding, “...Princess.”

A devilish grin overtakes him at the sight of you spinning around a little too fast, staggering towards the door and holding onto the frame for dear life. “I hoped I wouldn’t see you again tonight.”

“I can’t say it isn’t a nice surprise. You don’t have to leave,” he coaxes. “Do you wanna see my Master Sword?”

“Grow up!” You make sure to slam the door shut behind you. You hate him so fucking much it hurts.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ✯ ⋅.} ────── ⊰

“Jennie, how could I be so wrong about him?” you sigh, dropping your forehead against the kitchen table. It’s been three weeks since you’ve talked to him, but it’s still the only thing you can think about.

Jennie takes a sip from her beer. “Sweetie, you’re not good at reading liars. Maybe you should look at some dating apps. You could get good read quick.”

“But I don’t wanna,” you whine into the coated wood. “Why can’t people just be nice?”

“Because. People suck. Come on, Y/N. Jungkook ain’t worth the headache. Drink with me. I’ll show you how Tinder works. It’s not so bad.”

When you don’t say anything, she tugs your chair across the floor, dragging your form close to hers and setting her phone down on the table. You peek out at the screen as you raise your head and rest it on a lazy elbow.

“Swipe right on the hotties. Swipe left on the fuckboys and losers. Jungkook? He’s a swipe left. But look at all these good ones on here. These are all swipe righties.”

You nod as she goes through a few profiles and begin downloading the app on your phone. Maybe she’s onto something.

[willow-salix]

The Shirt

This little thing is for @misssquidtracy and @soniabigcheese and was supposed to be a ficlet (tell that to the 2.5k that came out). It came about after a throw away comment to Sonia last night and then John ‘helpfully’ dropped the whole thing in my head fully formed. Enjoy!

Thanks to the awesome @myladykayo​ for the gorgeous shot of this dude!

"I don't need any new clothes, I told you that."

"And I didn't listen. Come on, John, you haven't bought anything new since college."

"And I'm happy with that, all of my clothes are perfectly serviceable," John continued to argue as Gordon towed him into yet another shop. 

As always they drew attention, Gordon because of his loud voice and, according to him, his swimmers body that the women loved. Gordon had always loved to be the center of attention, he'd reveled in it back in his Olympic days, proud of the knowledge that his promotional pictures had graced many a teenagers phone backgrounds and lock screens. 

John, on the other hand, had no idea what people saw in him and why they still watched him even when he was with his brothers. He knew his hair always drew looks and over the years he'd heard more than a few people whispering something about checking if he was a natural redhead, although he'd never wanted to stick around to listen too closely and had gotten out of there sharpish. He'd much rather just be left alone to fade into the background where his introverted wallflower tendencies could be appeased. 

"Well, I need new clothes and you can't leave a man to shop on his own, it's just not done," Gordon continued. 

"I'm pretty sure there's no such rule."

"I'm making it a rule, it's part of the bro code now," Gordon shot back, flicking through yet another rack of eye-wateringly bright shirts that even Hawaii would have disowned. 

"I reject your rule."

"You can't, I'm your baby brother, you have to be nice to me, that's in the bro code too."

"I demand to see written proof of this rule book that you seem to keep pulling things from whenever it suits you."

Gordon glanced at his brother, seeing his lips twitch as he fought valiantly to keep any display of amusement firmly at bay. John didn't often get the chance to hang out with his younger brother but he always enjoyed it, not that he'd ever admit that out loud, that would only encourage Gordon to up his annoyance level by at least five points. 

"Ha! You smiled, I'm off the hook!" 

"I did no such thing."

"You did, I saw it! The robot had a feeling- ow!" Gordon ducked out of the way, avoiding another cuff around the back of the head from his, far too lanky for his own good, brother who apparently had the reach of an orangutan. 

"I'm not a robot, you little jerk. Stand still so I can hit you properly." And there went the warm fuzzy feelings. Back to reminding himself just why said hang outs didn't happen more often. 

"Yeah, right! Like that's gonna happen." Gordon shimmied backwards through the rack of shirts that made the sun look dull and out the other side to freedom. "Too much time in space has made you slow, bro!" 

"What? HOW DARE YOU!" Without thinking John dived around the side of the rack, stretching out to grab at his grinning brother. "I'll show you who's slow!" 

"I am lightning, I am the wind!" Gordon dodged aside with perfect ease, avoiding the grasping fingers of his brother. 

"Full of wind, more like! Stand still!" How was the squid so fast? 

"Come on, old man, keep up!" 

John made another grab at the back of Gordon's shirt but the little shit wiggled out of his grasp like an eel. 

"Ha! Victory is mine!"

"I wouldn't be too sure about th-" WHUMP! John spluttered, screeching to a stop as he got a face full of fabric, evidently thrown by Gordon who'd decided that weapons were now in play. 

He flailed, tripping over the leg of a clothing rack as he stumbled blindly. He made a grab for the first solid feeling thing he could find, although his judgement of solid was woefully inadequate. He landed on the floor in a tangle of limbs, both his own and plastic, as the mannequin he'd inadvertently grabbed fell with him. 

"Gordon," he gasped, winded from his tumble, but the sound of his brother's hysterical laughter was all that he received by way of an answer. 

He yanked the material off his head, a shirt of some description by the looks of it, and staggered to his feet, dragging his dance partner up with him. 

He managed to get her upright and back on her stand after a great deal of huffing and many swear words muttered under his breath as Gordon continued to howl like a hyena, hanging onto a mirror to stop his own downward descent. 

Yanking her skirt back up where he'd accidentally yanked it down, John finally got the mannequin back in place and decently covered up. 

"Gordon stop laughing!" he ordered as he bent to pick up the shirt that had assaulted him before angrily turning to face his brother. 

"What a clumsy idiot," he heard someone whisper a few rows over, stopping him in his tracks. "Keep out of the way, he'll take us down with him next."

John ducked his head, his cheeks as red as his hair, wishing the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He hated being the center of attention and now, he risked a peek to confirm his suspicions, yep, now the whole store was looking at him. Great, just perfect. 

"I'm never coming shopping with you again," he hissed in Gordon's direction. 

"Too right. Did you see the shirt he's holding?" the woman's friend whispered back. "Anyone that picks out something like that should be avoided at all costs."

"He's looking, quick, pretend you haven't seen him!" Both women quickly looked away, suddenly extremely interested in a nearby coat. 

What were they talking about? John glanced down at the pile of fabric still clutched in his clenched fist. It was definitely a shirt of some description, beigey-brown in colour, but not just one shade, oh no, this monstrosity had at least four other shades of brown thrown in for good measure, all coming together in wavy lines of what-was-this-designer-thinking to form some kind of texan nightmare, complete with gaudy gold piping. It truly was hideous, quite honestly the most disgusting thing he'd ever laid eyes on and he'd trained with astronauts who didn't have control of their digestive systems yet. 

He looked around desperately to find somewhere to hide it away from his sight, ignoring Gordon who was taking deep breaths in an effort to calm down. 

There! He spotted a convenient looking pile of sweatpants on a shelf and moved over to stuff the offending article back into the depth of hell from whence it had crawled when a single, solitary thought tickled at the back of his brain. 

He paused, thinking, his brain hamster now awake and racing at top speed around its wheel. He glanced from the shirt to the women who had spoken before, then back down to the shirt. 

"I'm going to try this on," he announced to his stunned brother, marching past him to the changing rooms. 

He quickly stripped off his T-shirt, the one that declared that he was a communications engineer not a magician, and pulled on the horror shirt. Surprisingly enough it was actually made of quite a soft material, something his overly sensitive, due to time spent in low gravity, skin really appreciated. 

He pulled it closed and buttoned it up, rolling his shoulders to allow it to settle into place. It was remarkably comfortable, actually long enough in the body. He stretched out his arms, pleased to see that the cuffs didn't immediately hike up to his elbows. All good so far, but only one thing would assure its purchase…

He pushed open the changing room door and stepped outside. The effect was immediate as two men, three women and a toddler that had been independently milling around near the entrance took one look at him and, as one, turned as quickly as they could in the opposite direction. 

Grinning to himself he tugged the tag off the sleeve, grabbed his T-shirt from the changing room and headed to the counter. 

"I'll wear it out," he informed the cashier, loving the way he not so subtly averted his eyes, unable to look at him. "And I'll take as many as you have in stock in this size and the next one up too." The cashier rushed to do his bidding, desperate to save what remained of his eyesight. 

"See, I told you coming shopping with me was a good idea," Gordon grinned as they made their way back to the parking lot, their arms filled with bags. 

"I will admit that it had its advantages," John answered as they strode easily through the crowd that parted like the red sea, unwilling to risk being contaminated by their fashion flu. 

John breathed a sigh of relief, feeling like he could relax for the first time since they'd gotten there three hours before. 

"That shirt is magical," Gordon declared, watching in astounded awe as eyes all around them shifted to avoid looking in his brother's direction. "It's like a people repellent in clothing form, it's….it's…" he groped around for the right words. 

"It's perfect," John declared, lovingly stroking a sleeve like one would a beloved pet. And it truly was. It was like people had a filter, an ugly shirt firewall in their heads that made them avoid it at all costs.

He couldn't remember a time that he hadn't been stared at since the year he'd turned seventeen and hit his second growth spurt. In that year he'd shot up six inches, his lanky frame had filled out a little, his weedy arms turning into tightly packed muscles and he'd developed abs and a voice that had deepened a few octaves. Then, for some reason, his anxious aura with its go away vibes had become nothing but a challenge for most people, acting as a kind of siren call for them to latch on to him and decide that he needed to be included, chatted to and made the center of attention. 

Now it was like he was practically invisible and it felt amazing. Even with the neon orange shirt Gordon was wearing, people were mostly ignoring him. 

"I'm never taking this thing off again."

       ***

"Why am I always the one doing the laundry for you lazy arses?" Selene bitched as she dragged a massive basket of assorted Tracy clobber into the lounge where the assorted Tracys owners sat around in various states of lazy. 

"Because you love us?" Gordon answered, grinning cheekily. 

"Nope, that can't be it," Selene retorted, sitting down on the steps of the seating area to begin the mammoth task that was sorting and folding. She dragged out one of Virgil's plaids and folded it into some semblance of order and dropped it on the floor to start his pile. 

"Let me help," John offered, moving to sit beside her and take some of the pile from her lap. 

"Thanks, gorgeous."

"Whipped," Scott teased, reaching for his coffee cup. "Hey, Sel, if you're the only one doing the laundry as you claim, how comes you haven't managed to wreck John's ugly shirts?"

"Why would I?" she shrugged, balling up a pair of Scott's socks. 

"Because I know you. Any excuse to shop, right?" 

The socks made a handy projectile as she threw them at his head. 

"Thanks!" Scott grinned, effortlessly plucking them from midair. "Seriously though, look at it."

Selene looked at the shirt that was currently hiding the delightful chest of her even more delightful husband. 

"I fail to see the problem with it."

"Really?" 

"Hey, leave my shirt alone, it's perfectly serviceable, thank you."

"It's old, it has to be at least seven years since you bought them," Gordon joined in. "They probably don't even make them any more."

"They don't," John said, concentrating on folding one of Alan's T-shirts into a perfect square. "So nothing had better happen to the ones I have left."

"Now's your chance," Alan whispered to Selene. "Kill them with fire and you'll never have to see them again."

"Yeah, you know that he's got much nicer clothes in his wardrobe," Scott added. 

"I've actually grown quite fond of them," Selene answered, carefully folding one she'd plucked from the depths of the pile, smoothing it out like it was something precious. 

All three Tracys, minus one Virgil who was down in the hangars no doubt creating more washing for her to do by getting covered in grease and muck, stared at her like she'd just announced that she was going back to blonde. 

"What? How? You said that he's never looked better than when he's wearing a decent shirt, I had to give you a drool cloth at your wedding."

"All true," she shrugged, folding one of Virgil's vests to the best of her ability. 

"Yet you continue to let him walk about in, what was it you called it, his rodeo clown shirt?" Gordon asked, completely bemused. "Are we missing something here?" 

"I'm a witch," she started by way of explanation. 

"Duh," Alan snorted. 

"And I have a healthy respect for glamour magic, and that right there," she continued as if she hadn't just been rudely interrupted, pointing at the shirt that John was wearing, "is the most magical thing I've ever seen in my life." 

All three of them burst out laughing, unable to believe what they were hearing. Selene waited patiently for them to finish cackling like they had just cursed Macbeth. 

"Allowing the shirts to live is doing the world, and my arrest record, a huge favour. Now, if you'll excuse us…" she got to her feet, relieved John of the socks he was busily matching and dragged him to his feet.

"OK, OK, I'll bite," Scott continued to chuckle, wiping the tears from his eyes. "What makes you think it's so magical?"

"That should be obvious, nothing short of a miracle could hide that amount of sexiness. Why do you think I'm good with him hiding in Five when he's wearing that space suit?" She dumped the half folded pile of washing back into the hamper.

"I've decided that you lot can sort your own laundry, because I've got the sudden and overwhelming urge to see that shirt on our bedroom floor. Later, fashion rejects."

John put up zero resistance. 

"I love this shirt," he grinned, waving a cheerful goodbye to his stunned brothers as his wife yanked on his hand, towing him bodily from the lounge and on to far more pleasant things than chores. 

[rmtndew]

Begin Again ~ Chapter 2

Summary: Walter Marshall is a dedicated homicide detective doing his best to balance his work life with being a single father to a teenage girl. Fiona Sparks is a woman doing her best to take care of everyone and everything around her, except for herself. Neither has had the best luck with relationships, but once they meet, they’re willing to give it another shot, this time with each other. (It’s basically just romantic fluff) 

Pairing: Marshall and OFC.

Rating: PG

Warnings: Mentions of death, cancer.

A/N - This is a sequel to ‘All I’ve Ever Known’. I started writing this because I needed an escape for some personal stuff going on and my coping mechanism included giving Marshall all the love that man needed, and imagining him being the softest boyfriend to me, then passing those details on to Fiona (my OFC).

I also made a Spotify playlist for this story, if anyone is interested - Begin Again Playlist 

Tag list - @hollydaisy23, @alyxkbrl, @onlyhenrys, @omgkatinka, @speakerforthedead0, @gearhead66,  @thethirstyarchive, @oddsnendsfanfics, @littlerinoa, @agniavateira, @aaescritora, @justaboringadult, @beenthroughalot, @seriouslygoodlookinggents, @xxxkatxo

If you want to be added/removed from the tag list, let me know!

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7

I made it home just a little after five. Darcy and I had been on track to finish up at four with the prep on the next day’s order, but her nephew Nick decided he could do the last batch of bread for us. I wasn’t sure what he did wrong, but three of the five loaves came out burnt, and the other two were so misshapen that they were unusable for sandwiches. I stayed over to help Darcy bake replacements and even though I kept my eye on the clock, I couldn’t bear leaving her in a panic just because I had a date.

When I got to the house, I went to find Mom and let her know that I was going out. She was in the living room talking on the phone. I could tell that it was my aunt June because she was loud enough for me to hear, even with the phone to Mom’s ear. I didn’t want to interrupt her so I kissed her on the head, letting her know I was there, then went up to my room to change. Amidst the bread drama, I’d gotten covered in flour. I was halfway up the staircase when my phone rang. I pulled it out of my purse. It was Marshall. 

“Hello,” I answered. 

“Hey Fiona, it’s Walt. I’m leaving work right now. I should be there at half past five if you’re still up for dinner.” 

“I am. I just got home myself so I’m going to get cleaned up and I’ll be ready when you get here.”

I could hear a door shut and it sounded like he was getting into his truck. “Do you want to try for Italian again or put it on the back burner for the moment?”

“Back burner, if you don’t mind,” I said, reaching the top of the stairs. 

“I don’t. Maybe we can try for it again if…” He paused. 

“If you don’t get bored with me before then?” I joked. 

He laughed, making my heart pound in a lovely way. “I can’t imagine getting bored with you,” he said. “I was actually thinking if you didn’t get tired of me.”

I smiled. “We both clearly have poor insight into how we view one another.” I opened the door to my room. “I can’t see how I would ever get tired of you when talking to you keeps me from getting tired of everything else right now. You make it so much more manageable just by existing in my life.” He was quiet and panic crept up again. “Sorry, that was a lot to put on you. I didn’t mean -”

“No, that was...I feel the same.”

“You do?” 

I heard him huff out a short laugh. “You made me excited to stay at my desk and do paperwork, so...yeah.” 

“Good, because I -” I screwed my eyes shut and took a deep breath. “I really like you, Walter.”

There was another moment of silence and I tried not to panic that time, but I couldn’t help how my heart pounded. 

“I really like you, too, Fi,” he eventually said, his voice soft.

After changing and cleaning up, I went back downstairs on another search for Mom. I could hear her talking and thought she was still on the phone until I heard a very distinctive, very loud, laugh, and knew that in the twenty minutes since getting home, my aunt June had come over.

I went to the kitchen where I could hear them and stood in the doorway for a moment. They were cooking. “Are the two of you up to any good?” I joked.

“Not in the slightest,” Mom said with a laugh. It died in her throat as she looked over at me. “Are you leaving?” 

“Yeah, I am. I was going to tell you earlier, but you were on the phone.”

“You’re not going back to work, surely. Darcy can’t ask you to stay over and then have you come back in. Her nephew is the one who made the mistake; not you.”

I shook my head. “It’s not Darcy.”

“It must be a hot date then,” June teased, laughing. 

She’d obviously meant it as a joke. I hadn’t even so much as entertained the idea of dating since Dad died. That was tragic enough, but added to it was my ex-boyfriend Ezra breaking up with me right after I’d found out about Dad’s accident and the desire to jump back into that fire had been long gone. But Mom took one look at me and she knew. The irritation she’d worn thinking I was going back to work melted from her face as she smiled at me. 

“Did he ask you out again?” she asked me quietly. 

I nodded. “Today when I made my delivery. We’re getting dinner.”

“I’m happy for you, Bird.”

June stopped stirring what looked like red sauce and turned towards me, wooden spoon still in hand. The movement was so sudden it slung a trail of sauce in its wake, looking like blood splatters. “You’re actually going on a date?” she asked, her voice jumping octaves seemingly with each word. 

I knew my aunt well enough to know that I had to give her a few choice pieces of information if I ever wanted to escape that kitchen without her trailing after me to sneak a peek at Marshall. 

“I am going on a date. It’s someone I just started talking to recently. It’s nothing serious,” I said. “But he’s getting off work early today and asked if I wanted to get dinner.” 

“What does he look like?” June asked. “Is he better looking than that weaselly boy you used to date?” 

“He’s far better looking than Ezra,” Mom said. “Very handsome.”

“And way more of a gentleman,” I said. 

June finally turned back to her sauce, stirring it again. “Well, that’s not much of a competition, honey. A brick wall would be considered more of a gentleman.” 

Mom and I both laughed. The doorbell rang, interrupting us. I looked at her and she smiled. “Go have fun, Fi.”

“I will.” I walked over to her and kissed her head. “Love you,” I said, then told her and June bye.

As I left the kitchen, I found myself half jogging to the front door, eager to open it. I took a deep breath before I did, trying to keep from looking childishly excited to see Marshall, but I don’t think it worked. When I opened the door and saw him standing there, his back straight, his hands clasped behind him, like he was standing at attention, like waiting for me was something to be done respectfully, I couldn’t help the automatic grin that took over my face.

“Hi,” I said. 

It was like that was his cue to go ‘at ease’. His hands fell to his side as he returned my smile. “Hi,” he said back. “Are you ready?”

I nodded. He stepped aside as I left the house. When we turned and began walking down the path, he gently placed his hand on the small of my back. Even through my coat and sweater, I could feel the heat of his hand. I let myself drift closer to him, up against his side, and his hand shifted slightly, resting right above my hip. My heart soared at the tender act. 

When we reached his truck, he kept his arm around me and opened my door with his free hand. I stepped away to climb into his truck but surprised even myself when I spun around on my heel and reached out with both hands to hold his face, and pressed a soft, quick kiss to his lips. When I pulled back, I covered my mouth, shocked by my boldness. 

“I’m sorry. It just sort of...slipped out,” I said, a small laugh escaping my throat. 

He smiled wide, teeth and dimples showing. He softly took hold of my wrist and lowered my hand from my mouth. “Feel free to let it slip out as often as you want,” he said, his voice gently teasing me as he brought his mouth closer to mine.

We kissed again, both of us laughing as the kiss became all teeth, our lips spread too wide into smiles to make much contact. It ended quickly and I let my forehead fall to his shoulder, still laughing. He kissed the top of my head.

“We’ll keep practicing,” he said, his laugh a glorious rumble in his chest.

“I think that’s a good idea.” I looked back up at him and the smirk he had on his face made me laugh again.

“What?” he asked. 

“I don’t know. You’re…” I shook my head, trying to find the right words. I couldn’t, so I just blurted out my thoughts. “You’re the most attractive man I’ve ever met and it blows my mind that you want to kiss me.” 

He traced his thumb over my bottom lip. “I do want to kiss you,” he whispered, replacing his thumb with his lips. “And I want to take you to dinner.” He kissed the corner of my mouth. “And hold your hand.” He kissed my cheek. “And spend time with you.” He brushed my hair back from my ear before nuzzling into it. “And get to know you as much as I can.”

My knees felt like putty, weakening under the weight of his words. I had to hold on to his shoulders to steady myself. I could feel the pounding of my heart beating in my ears, the blood rushing fast as it beat hard enough that I wondered if Walter could feel it as he stood closer to me. I felt dizzy and borderline high from him. 

I kept one hand on his shoulder and moved the other, placing it on his cheek. I ran my fingers through his beard, then down to the line of his jaw, skimming them over to his chin. I used my hold there to turn his face towards me. “That’s exactly what I want, too.” 

He smiled and leaned forward slightly, not trying to rid himself of my grasp, and placed a soft kiss on the bridge of my nose. “Then we’re on the same page, Miss Sparks.”

I giggled despite myself. “Yes, we are, Detective Marshall.” 

Walter and I went to a place called Hungry Vintage. “I used to come here all the time. Especially in the summer,” I said as he pulled my chair out for me. I thanked him as I sat. He sat across from me and I pointed out the window, even though it was too dark to see anything. “My apartment was just a block and a half away, so I’d walk here a few times a week.” 

“You moved after your father died, yeah? So your mum wasn’t alone.” 

I nodded. “Yeah. She’d never lived on her own before and didn’t think she could do it in their house. I had a few months left on my lease but I had a really great landlord. I explained everything to him and he let me out of it early,” I said. “It ended up being a good move, though, because my old job let me go a couple of months later. I wouldn’t have been able to afford it on my salary at Waverly.” 

“Where did you work before that?” 

“Regency Interior Design. I interned with them in college and they offered me a job as soon as I graduated,” I said. “Dad always told me that I was lucky, that that didn’t happen for everyone, but I didn’t realize what he meant until I tried to get a position at another design firm after Regency.” I shook my head. “It was nearly impossible to even get an interview.”

He looked a little embarrassed as he asked, “What do interior designers do, exactly? Do you decorate, or…?”

I laughed. “Yeah, some decorating. I mainly worked with clients who were flipping houses, so I would help them figure out how to redesign a room so that it served the space better, but still stayed within building code regulations. Then I’d help them source materials and when construction was done, I’d help them paint and furnish everything to make sure the house was cohesive. It could be tiring, especially when clients were pressuring me to work faster, but it was fun, too,” I said. “I like the routine and predictability in my current job, but I miss being creative.” 

He tilted his head slightly, pressing his lips together in a thin line. “Would you -” He stopped and shook his head. “Never mind.”

“No, I want to know,” I said. “Would I what?”

He played with a salt shaker on the table almost nervously. “Would you ever consider taking on a private client?” he asked, not making eye contact.

I smiled. “Do you know someone who might be in the market for one?”

He chewed the side of his mouth for a moment. “My house, it’s functional, that’s all. I sleep, shower, and eat there. Not much else, so how it looks doesn’t bother me,” he said. “But Faye’s room… She deserves something nice, you know?” 

“Do you want it to be a surprise?”

He looked at me, then nodded. “Her birthday is in the middle of next month. Would that be enough time?” 

“Do you only want it redecorated and furnished more? No construction?” 

He laughed slightly. “As much as she’d probably like me to knock a wall down to make her room bigger, I don’t have the space to do it,” he said. “So yeah; no construction.”

“If that’s all, then I don’t see any reason why it couldn’t be done by her birthday,” I said. “Do you have a picture of her room?”

He shook his head. “No. Do I need one?”

“Not right now, but when you get the chance to take one, you can send it to me. Just so I can get an idea of what it’s like.” 

“Would it be better if you saw it in person?”

“Honestly? Yes. But I didn’t want to invite myself over,” I said. 

“Then I’ll invite you,” he said. “How about Saturday? I could pick you up. You could take a look at her room and give me an estimate, and then I could cook for you.”

I raised my eyebrow at him. “An estimate? Like for what I think you should buy for the room?” I asked. “I would help you with ideas, but I’d let you decide the budget and work with what you can spend. It honestly doesn’t have to cost a lot.”

“I mean for your fee. Or do you have a set price that you charge clients?”

“Walter, I’m not going to charge you. I’m more than happy to do it for Faye. I think it’s sweet that you want her to have a nice room.”

He looked guilty. “I didn’t ask you so you’d do it for free.”

I smiled. “I know. That’s why I don’t mind doing it,” I said. “Besides, you said you were going to cook for me, so that can be your payment.”

His face became soft, his eyes giving me a puppy dog look. I was weak for it. “If that’s the only payment you’ll accept, then maybe I’ll plan on cooking for you every week until it’s finished.”

My smile grew. “Well, if you’re a good cook, I just might accept that offer.”

He leaned in towards me over the table and smirked. “And if I’m not a good cook?”

“I might heavily suggest takeout. I’m quite fond of Chinese food.” 

He nodded, his smirk turning into a full smile. “Noted.”  

After dinner, Marshall and I drove around town for about an hour, not wanting the night to end, but eventually it had to. We both had work in the morning. When he drove me home, it was the first time since moving back in with Mom that I wished I still had my own place. I wanted nothing more than to ask him in but that was off the table while Mom was there. Not to mention my aunt June, who, judging from her car, was still visiting. 

He parked on the street in front of my house and I took advantage of what small bit of privacy we had in his truck. He was holding my hand, and with my free one, I took my fingers and lightly traced over his knuckles, then gently brushed over the top of his hand. When I reached his wrist, the movements turned into a light scratching as I ran my fingers up and down the part of his forearm that was exposed. I didn’t know what I was doing, just that I wanted to touch him. Goosebumps raised on his skin, something I wasn’t sure he experienced much with the heat he gave off, and when I looked up at him, I knew that he didn’t care what I was doing, just that I was doing it.

His other hand came up quickly, going straight to the base of my neck. He was gentle, even in his urgency, guiding my face towards his, kissing me. I clutched at his sleeve, feeling like I needed something to hold on to. He wasn’t rough but his kisses weren’t the soft ones we’d shared previously. Eventually, I grew bold enough and moved my hand from his sleeve to the back of his head, burying my fingers in his soft curls.

Each press of his lips seemed to erase all ability to think, until the only rational, fully formed thought left in my mind was that I wanted to spend the rest of my time on earth kissing this man. 

When he finally pulled away, I was left feeling like I was drunk for the first time: Warm, slightly dizzy, and giddy. It took me a long moment to compose myself. He pressed his forehead to mine, our noses touching, our mouths mere centimetres from each other’s, passing breath back and forth as we tried to catch our own. 

I couldn’t imagine a time where kissing him didn’t make me feel some kind of way.

“I think our practice is starting to pay off,” I joked. “That wasn’t half bad.”

He laughed. “No, it wasn’t.” He kissed my lips again softly, then my nose, then my forehead, letting his lips linger for a moment. I let out a contented sigh and felt his lips smiling against my skin. “But perhaps we should keep practicing, hm?” 

I smiled as I looked up at him. “I think that would be best,” I said. “Maybe we can fit it in on Saturday?”

He nodded. “I’ll try to work it into the schedule.” He moved his hand, his fingers brushing along my throat as he did. “What time would work for you?”

I let my own hand drift from the back of his head, down to the nape of his neck. I scratched lightly at his scalp. He closed his eyes and leaned back into it. I rewarded him with a few more scratches. It was his turn to sigh happily and I filed that info away in my mind for later.

“Anytime works for me,” I said, removing my hand and placing it in my lap. He opened his eyes and again and looked more relaxed than I’d ever seen him. I couldn’t hold back my smile. “Maybe...maybe a little early? In case it takes a while with Faye’s room?”

He nodded. “What about four? Or is that too early?” 

I smiled wider. “You could suggest six in the morning and I’d be up for it,” I said. “So no; four isn’t too early.” 

“Then I’ll be here at six a.m.,” he joked. “I’ll bring you coffee. You like creamer but no sugar, right?”

“Yes. You have an excellent memory, Detective.”

“Only when it’s worth remembering,” he said. He adjusted himself in his seat to better face me. “But you’re really okay with that time for Saturday?”

“I really am. I’ll bring all of my stuff over. You can help me measure everything and then I can use one of my design programs to make up a few different options. Whichever one you pick, I’ll help you figure out how to get it all done.” 

“Thank you.” He raised my hand that he was still holding and brought it to his mouth. He kissed it, warm and gentle. My heart continued to melt for him. “Would you let me walk you to the door?”

I nodded. “Of course.”

He got out of the truck and came around to open my door for me. When we were standing side by side, he reached for my hand, lacing his fingers through mine. As we began walking towards the house, I held onto his bicep, leaning my head on his shoulder, tucking myself as close to him as I could. If I’d had any doubt over whether he was comfortable with that much touch, it was squashed instantly when he slowed down, taking his time in getting me to the door.

I hesitated to let my feet touch the doormat, feeling like that was the final step before he left. I wanted to hold on to him longer. So that’s where I stopped. He seemed to sense my hesitancy, or maybe he shared it because as we stopped, he turned towards me and ran a hand over my hair, his thumb finding my cheek and stroking it lightly. I let go of his hand and wrapped both of my arms around him. He stepped into my embrace, one arm locked around my waist, the other around my shoulders. I buried my face in his neck and fought the strange desire to cry. I’d suspected early on that Marshall would be a good hugger - he just seemed too much like a teddy bear not to be - but I hadn’t anticipated the overwhelming feeling of safety that his arms would hold. I found myself squeezing my eyes shut tight and clinging to that feeling with all I had. It took a few moments for me to realize that I wasn’t just clinging to the feeling; I was clinging to him. I felt embarrassed and loosened my hold on him, but I felt his hand come up to cradle the back of my head. I felt his lips pressing on my temple. 

I knew at that moment that this man was going to ruin all other men for me. And there was nothing else I wanted more. 

We separated slowly, one touch at a time. My hands moved from the broad plain of his shoulders, down his back, then, as I took a step backward, they rested on his sides. His hand that had been cradling my head gently smoothed over my hair, ghosting over my shoulder, then rested at his side. His arm holding my waist moved, his hand going to my hip. Like earlier that evening, I could feel the heat radiating through the layers of fabric. I inhaled his scent before moving my face from the crook of his neck. I caught his eye, noticing him watching me, as I moved my head back to look up at him. 

“Thank you for coming out with me tonight,” he said. “I really enjoyed it.”

“I did, too,” I said. “You’re doing a pretty good job of making Wednesday my favorite day, you know? Between seeing you on my deliveries, and coffee dates, and dinner dates, even the weekend is losing the competition.” 

His eyes were bright and smiling. “So does that mean I have to work extra hard Saturday to impress you?”

“No. I’m already impressed by you.”

He smiled, then raised his free hand and took my chin between his thumb and forefinger gently, lifting my face, then gave me a soft, chaste kiss that made my heart skip a beat and my toes curl in my boots. 

“Goodnight, Fi,” he whispered against my lips.

“Goodnight, Walter.”

He took a step back. He was still close but no longer touching me. I had to suppress a whine and the urge to burrow into him for the rest of the night, or my life. I’d never missed someone standing right in front of me before, but there I was. 

“Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked.

“Absolutely. Yes.”

“Good.” He rubbed his neck, his eyes drifting away from me towards his truck for a moment. When he looked back at me, there was a sense of shyness on his face. Something about it made him seem impossibly boyish. “I don’t…” He paused. “I don’t know if I could wait until Saturday to talk to you again.” 

My arms automatically crossed over my stomach, hugging myself, like I was trying to hold back the multitude of butterflies I felt trying to take flight. “You don’t have to wait, and you don’t have to ask. I would love for you to call whenever you want,” I said. “Because I think waiting would be hard for me, too.” 

He nodded, taking another step back. “Then I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

He took a few more steps back, looking at me for a moment longer, before finally turning and walking away. I stood, watching him until he got into his truck. The interior light lit up the cab and I could see him. He waved at me. I waved back, then, with a heavy sigh, went inside.

I closed the door and pressed my back against it. I could hear my mom and aunt talking, but it all sounded like white noise. I placed a hand over my heart, feeling how it pounded. My veins felt like electricity was running through them. My whole body was buzzing. Walter Marshall was under my skin, and I wouldn’t have changed it for the world.

[shihalyfie]

Since the things I write for this blog are generally supposed to analyze existing canon, I really do try to be level-headed and diplomatic and keep as many personal opinions as I can out of it -- not that I’m pretending I’m not biased anyway, but there’s a certain degree of me having to hold back on my more self-indulgent stuff in trying to make good, analytical, level-headed posts that make sense to everyone.

This is not one of them. The following post is extremely chock full of shipping-related delusional content. Please feel free to ignore the below. I’m sorry.

Anyway, this scene, you know, the one that made basically every Ken/Miyako shipper go (eyes emoji) at. This is such a tiny, innocuous little thing that really should mean nothing -- Ichijouji Ken being a nice and considerate person is like saying water is wet -- but when your movie is advertised as an epilogue lead-up, and (even among non-shippers) how Ken and Miyako hooked up is one of the many parts of that epilogue that people are curious about and will naturally be keeping an eye out for, and when the movie is a 95-minute one that doesn’t exactly have the luxury of time to be wasting and yet feels this entire sequence needs a whole 25 seconds dedicated to this setup...

Yes, really. They actually built this up for a whole half a minute.

Wait, okay, hold up. Let’s zoom out a little bit. Of course, everyone talks about the most obvious part (Ken is very worried about Miyako in particular) and all, but let’s dial back to what happened before this.

Miyako decided to try and get information on the Internet despite Hawkmon’s warnings and ended up with an Eosmon running after them. As a result, she ended up turning a corner from the street we later find out Iori and Ken were on.

Stingmon and Ankylomon happen to intercede to prevent it from closing in on Miyako and Daisuke. Except wait, it may not be just happening to, because the novel gives us a bit of an interesting detail...

Ken’s voice immediately spoke up from the other side of the street: “Stingmon!” “Spiking Finish!”

So yes, it seems like Ken (and the novel seems like it wants to indicate Ken and Ken specifically, even though Iori and Ankylomon were also relevant to this situation) personally redirected Stingmon’s attention to the situation and sent him in to take care of the Eosmon chasing Miyako, the moment after he presumably saw the Eosmon chasing her and her going around a corner out of his sight. (And then Iori and Ankylomon joined in because they also care about Miyako very much, of course.)

Which is then followed by:

“Miyako-san, are you okay?” “Yeah, I’m fine,” Miyako said, waving a hand to ease the worried Ken.

...the novel really wants to dedicate some words so you know that Ken is very worried (even though, you know, some degree of concern should be expected given context). Like, you know, this entire situation would not even be out of the ordinary if it weren’t for this unusual amount of focus of Ken (In Particular) Being Very Worried About Miyako (In Particular) in this context where Iori and Daisuke are also there.

You know. Cinematic parallels, and all.

Really, the issue is not the event itself as much as how unusual this is in a meta context. Again, this movie was 95 minutes. We were catching up on these characters for the first time in years, and there was a lot of info to unpack, and every single line dropped has significantly more value to be picked apart than your average line in a 4-cour anime. No, seriously, they even actually said that every line is important. And this movie is so fast-paced, and there was so much to cover in very little time, that they probably didn’t have time to depict the ins and outs of some intimate romance that otherwise wouldn’t have been relevant to the plot, but you know, given that these two are literally going to have their first child sometime in the next five years, the fact that something was slipped in to hint at how this was supposed to track isn’t that unreasonable...

Right?

I mean, I’m not even getting into the other suspicious things like how Ken suddenly whips around and is the first one to fling himself at her to greet her, and drops a “that was fast” as if he were the one to personally call her in, with his voice suddenly jumping up half an octave higher like he’s taken off guard by her presence. Or the fact that in the drama CD, Wormmon -- who’s infamously known for only being clingy towards Ken-chan to the near exclusion of everyone else -- is so, so endearingly happy to see Hawkmon as if their partners have been hanging out recently. (Right after we’re reminded about V-mon’s thing for Tailmon as parallelism for Daisuke’s thing for Hikari, too.) What have you two been doing lately? Or even back in the profiles, the very, very fascinating detail where Miyako chooses Spain of all places to be her exchange program location, which has as its native language one that Ken was canonically established to have some degree of proficiency in, making you wonder what exactly led to such a “coincidental” choice right there.

Maybe I’m reading into this too much. There are many other reasonable explanations for this. Yes, I’m well aware. I am absolutely, shamelessly projecting into all of this...

...But please let me enjoy this for just a moment here.

[halo-jpeg]

Could I get uhhhh some headcanons for slashers with an s/o that loves to sing? Maybe Vinny, Jason, and Brahms at least? :3

I’ll do it for all the slashers I write for lol, I have so much free time and want to do a big ‘ol headcanon post :3

⚠️ THIS IS A LONG ONE. JESUS I WROTE SO MUCH. ⚠️

Slashers with an S/O who likes to sing headcanons

Vincent Sinclair

The first time Vincent heard you singing in the shower, he’d stop dead in his tracks. His first thought would be ‘how could someone sound that angelic?’. It would take him a moment to realize it was really you who was singing that beautifully.

He’d be too shy to confront you about hearing your voice. He knows that if you ever found him singing he’d be humiliated.

Finally you catch him listening in, and he’s mortified that you’ll hate him. When you actually offer to sing for him whenever he wants, his heart melts.

Now, he’s asking you to sing while he works instead of listening to his usual music while still making sure you don’t lose your voice.

Your singing helps him get to sleep, too, so when he’s having bad insomnia he’ll ask you to sing to him and it works every time.

Bo Sinclair

He’d hear you singing one day when he came home early from working at the station. He’d come and find you in the kitchen, then he’d lean against the doorway and wait for you to notice him.

When you do, the nervous smile you give him makes his heart flutter. He’d say something along the lines of ‘that throats good for more than just one thing, huh?’

He’d ask you to sing from time to time, but you’ll usually just start singing on your own, and every time you do he makes the same dirty joke, or some similar variation of it.

When he’s bored he’ll hum with you, but he’ll never sing. Unless you somehow get him drunk, then he’s a kareoke GOD.

He’ll never admit to it, but his favourite moments ever are when you sing him to sleep. He gets bad insomnia from time to time, and when he does get it, it’s really bad. You help him a lot, and these are the times you’ll usually get a few moments of calm singing along from Bo.

Lester Sinclair

Absolutely amazed when he hears your voice for the first time. How can anyone sound that perfect??

He’ll yell at Bo and Vincent to ‘shut the hell up and stop ruining the music’ whenever they make any noise at all if you’re singing.

He’ll start wanting to bring you around when he’s working more. The music on the radio all sounds the same, and it’s all distorted because of its poor signal. Your voice is 10x better and it’s clear.

He’ll sing with you from time to time but he’s a lot more self conscious about his voice than you are, so it’ll take some buttering up before he gives in.

Praises your voice 24/7, even if you aren’t singing. His opening line when the two of you run into anyone new on the road is ‘this is my girlfriend, her voice is really something!”

Michael Myers

As silent as a mouse, Michael had arrived silently in your shared home at unholy hours of the night. He expected you to be fast asleep, but instead he heard your voice dancing through the hallways. He’d creep upstairs and approach your room, emerging from the shadows to listen closer.

He immediately falls in love with you voice, he didn’t know you could sing like that. His mother used to sing to him as a child, so your voice brings him back to his past when he was loving and human.

It brings out his domestic side and makes him really want to cuddle you. He’ll lay his head on your chest and listen to the vibrations of your voice as they leave your mouth.

He won’t make a sound, afraid to prompt you to stop. He’ll listen for as long as you can sing.

Your voice calms him in instants. In the middle of a heart argument? Sing, and he’ll calm right down and rarely even apologize.

Jason Voorhees

You’d be singing one day while walking ‘alone’ in the forest (of course he’ll follow you, he has to keep you safe), and his heart will implode instantly. He’ll follow behind you as long as it takes for you to notice him, and then he’ll ask you to sing again by tapping your throat gently.

He loves the way your voice sounds when it echoes through the big, empty forest. He’ll take you on walks daily, thinking that’s the only time you’ll sing for him.

Sooner or later he wills up the courage to ask you to sing for him at home. You’re glad to, and you sing while he holds you tightly in his lap, rocking the both of you back and forth to the tunes you create.

He doesn’t let you sing when trespassers are on the property. Your voice is only for him, not scum like them.

He’ll come back from his hunts covered in blood and seething with rage and adrenaline that only your singing can soothe.

Brahms Heelshire

Your voice will get him to reveal himself sooner. He’ll be watching you through the walls as you sing to his doll persona, and he’d accidentally start to sing along as well, scaring your half to death.

After you’ve come to terms with the real him, music time would be switched with singing time, and both of you would sing together.

Brahms adores your voice, and tries his best to use a voice that matches it well. He plays piano as you sing, too.

If it were possible he’d want you to sing forever, but he’ll settle for the designated singing times, and the odd time you’ll sing while making dinner or going to sleep.

You can use your voice as a bargaining chip. “Oh, you won’t shower? Then you’ll get sick, and that’ll get me sick and I won’t be able to sing!” It works every time.

Billy Loomis and Stu Macher

You’d be singing in the car when Billy suddenly shuts off the radio. You’d obviously stop singing and he’d look like a hurt puppy. “Why’s you stop your singing, beautiful? I didn’t want that crappy radio to ruin it.”

Stu would lean on your shoulder, flashing you puppy dog eyes that match those belonging to Billy. You’re a little nervous at first as they stare expectantly, but soon they’re humming along and hugging you tightly.

Billy would never touch the radio again, nothing rivals your voice so he doesn’t care for it.

Stu would ask you to record your singing so he could listen to it whenever he wanted.

Both boys would insist you sing whenever you’re cuddling or trying to sleep. There’s no escaping their pleas, they will act like they’re dying if you don’t sing.

Danny ‘Jed Olsen’ Johnson

The moment he heard you mumbling to your music under your breath he asked you to sing a little louder. He’d known you’d be a great singer since your normal voice was so pretty already.

He’ll give you his expensive recording equipment so you can record your singing for him, and he’ll listen to it during his hunts. It’s his new favourite genre of music.

He starts to be somehow more clingy. He’s always with you, asking to hear that pretty little voice of yours.

He’ll sing with you, even if he isn’t as good as you are. There’s no one to hear you in his hidden shack, so you can belt your lungs out til your throats are sore.

And that’s exactly what he’ll do. He’s horrible at limiting his volume, so he always has a sore throat after the two of you sing together.

Norman Bates

Wow. W o w. He’d be completely stunned, froze in place. You’d realize he was staring and he’d feel horrible, rushing out that he was just admiring your gorgeous voice, and then he’d be more ebarassed by voicing his thoughts.

Your voice would be his new favourite thing. He’d do anything to hear you sing, bringing you breakfast in bed, doing all of the house cleaning, etc.

His ideal date would be a dinner that ended with your singing and dancing, simply swaying side to side as your voice set the perfect romantic vibe.

He’d become much more affectionate and confident when you’re singing. Your voice makes him feel romantic.

He’ll close his eyes and take in every note, every change in pitch, memorizing your perfect music.

Bubba Sawyer

He’d stop what he was doing almost immediately. It doesn’t matter what it was, your voice shifting in the angelic way it was, that was more important to him.

Your singing is the ultimate way to calm him when’s he’s sad, scared or angry. Yelled at by Drayton? Some tunes will help! Hurt by a trespasser? Don’t worry, you can heal him with your voice!

God forbid he ever gets sick, you’d be held at his side, singing until he was 100% better. Surprisingly, your voice actually seems to help him get better soon.

Bubba’s brothers like it too, save for Drayton. He’ll act like he doesn’t like it, but it’s better than whatever crap ChopTop likes to play.

Bubba will apologize forever and ever for the fact that he can’t sing along. No matter how many times you say you understand he still feels bad

(It says I reached the image limit, so no gifs for these last two :/)

Thomas Hewitt

He thought he’d never care for music until he heard you. He always thought music would give him headaches like the loud buzzing of his saw sometimes does, but then he heard you.

You actually soothe his headaches tremendously.

He has no idea how you get your voice to sound like that. His is so deep and rough and he has no idea how to control it like you can.

He’ll try to have you teach him but when he finds out you can’t because you sing a completely different octave he’ll be a little bummed.

He’ll settle for listening to you whenever he feels too tired to work or whenever his skull pounds with pain.

Billy Lenz

He’d heard you sing drunk kareoke with your friends, but he’d never heard you sing so... beautifully. Billy would wonder why you don’t sing like that more often.

He’d crawl from his usual home in the attic to ask you to sing more. You saying no here is the one time he’ll respect you going against his wish without a tantrum, but if you say yes he’ll drag you to the couch and burrito you both in blankets together.

He’ll sing along as best as possible, though he can’t flow between words like you can.

When he’s having a mental breakdown he’ll drag himself from the attic, a crying, sobbing mess, and he’ll crawl into your bed with you. You know immediately what he wants, and you hug him tightly, singing quietly as he calms.

When you sing he feels more sane, more grounded, as if you’re reversing all of the bad things that have happened in his life. He feels like a normal man with a perfect S/O.

[boymeetsweevil]

And then there were two

Grouping: Reader x College BF!Mark (NCT)

Word Count: ~3.48k

Warnings/Themes: non-graphic first time, too many friends with too little boundaries

Prompt: “what do u think abt college bf mark and awkward and fumbling first time”

The dorm is suspiciously quiet when Mark enters. There’s no sound of the XBox going, no sound of raucous laughter, no sound of beer bottles clinking. It’s almost as if you’re alone in your dorm. Odd.

“Mark?” You call from the common area shared by you and your suitemates. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.”

He finds you curled up on the couch, biting at your nails with your computer at your lap.

“Hey. Did you get your test results back yet?”

“I mean, the portal is open. I just haven’t checked it yet.” A sigh ghosts past your lips. “I don’t know if I passed this one. And if I don’t pass, I’ll have to retake the class later.”

“Want me to open it for you?”

“Please.”

Mark makes his way over, arms behind his back as he hides the treasure he brought with him. Once he’s seated you slide your laptop over to him like you can’t get it away fast enough and push yourself back until you’re at the opposite end of the couch. Your toes are the closest thing to him and you wedge them under his thigh while he types in your password from memory.

“Class average was a...64. Yikes,” he reads off that stats from the exam’s page.

“Yeah. It was a doozy.”

“Okay, let’s see. Woah, you got an 83.”

“What,” you shout.

“Nerd.”

Your eyes grow wide and you lunge forward to yank the computer away, hoping that he’s not messing with you. Mark laughs, nose scrunching at you as you take in the actual 83 on your exam’s results screen. The hoarse little shriek you let out is so cute that his heart aches a bit.

“The prof said she was adding a curve for this one. 6 points, she said.”

“Congrats, baby—oof!” 

Mark’s back hits the arm of the couch with a thud, taking the brunt of the force from your tackle. It’s a bit awkward but you still manage to get your limbs around him and squeeze. A breathy chuckle floats up from where you bury your face in his neck.

“I was so nervous. I hate Orgo so much.”

“I know, but you work so hard. How could you not do well?”

“Thanks,” you say once you pull back. Your eyes are velvet soft with relief and fondness as you look him over. 

You press a soft kiss to his lips and Mark presses back for a moment before pulling back with a jerk. Somehow you’ve ended up in the splayed V of his knees as a pleasant weight in his lap. Not an often occurrence.

“I, uh, I might have brought you something,” he mumbles against the skin of your cheek when you kiss the hinge of his jaw. His eyes and voice go gravelly and dark at your proximity.

“What is it?” You sit back on your heels with a staccato bounce. 

“Chicken Haus.”

From the side of the couch he brandishes a large paper bag with a familiar crowing chicken logo printed on the brown surface. The thin paper barrier does nothing to keep the smell from wafting over to you.

“Oh, did you get fries? Let me see!”

“Ah, ah!” He moves the bag out of your reach, causing you to stumble forward. Your glare down at him but all he does is cackle in response. “Say please,” he sing-songs.

“Dude, come on. This isn’t kindergarten!”

“So, I’m ‘dude’ now?” He sniffs and moves to put the chicken back. “Alright, I see how it is.”

“Mark—Mark, wait! Mark, my man. My super capable, handsome man. Please. Let me see the chicken.”

“Nice,” he hands you the bag, trying his hardest not to be flustered by your performance.

There’s a small mountain of your favorites in the bag and you do a little dance before hopping off the couch and making a beeline to the small communal kitchenette.

“Did you eat dinner already?”

“Yeah, I had some stuff at the studio.” 

You turn to give him a little disappointed pout. “Still, come sit with me!”

Mark ambles over with a pleased smile on his face. As you look for napkins he admires the straight way you hold your back. The university is notorious for its cutthroat biology major but you’re not the competitive type. So exam weeks are especially hard on you. You always end up stressed and shrunken in on yourself and Mark hates to see it. Few things cheer you back up right away. One of them is the atomic spicy nuggets from Chicken Haus.

“Should we eat in your room,” Mark asks. Your mutual friend Jungwoo, who introduced you and Mark, usually has virtual tutoring at this hour. Mark always feels bad for interrupting him, but normally you’d share some of your congratulatory nuggets with him.

“We don’t have to this time. Jungwoo went home for his mom’s graduation and Doyoung’s at a public health conference.”

“Oh. They didn’t tell me that.”

“Mark,” you let out an incredulous laugh when you finally open the box. “I think you got too many nuggets this time.”

Mark looks down at the party-sized box he handed over a hefty portion of this week’s paycheck for. He supposes it’s a lot for two people to eat, but the dorm is usually overflowing with friends. Tonight he bought a lot out of habit and none of the people he expected to be over are actually present.

“Shit. Are none of the guys coming over?”

“Mm, I don’t know. What’s Johnny up to?”

Mark wracks his brain for his friends’ whereabouts. “Uhh, I think I remember him saying he was gonna go visit his girlfriend at her school. So, I guess he’s not coming. 

“Okay,” you sit at one of the stools. “And Taeil and Haechan?”

“Probably, like, playing Fortnite or something.”

“I know Taeyong said he had some work he had to do for his design class, so he’s definitely not coming.” You bite down into a nugget finally and let out a soft moan. “This never gets old.”

Suddenly Mark is hungry again. When he grabs a napkin and a plate you give a gloating smirk.

“I think Yuta’s probably just asleep,” you say after you’ve finished moaning around another chicken nugget.

“That just leaves Jaehyun, I think.”

“I mean, I can text him and invite him over if you want me to.”

Before you can reach for your phone, Mark’s free hand covers yours. You can’t help but laugh a little. Jaehyun and Mark may be good friends, but you know Mark is still a little wary since Jaehyun tried to hit on you the first night you met everyone. There’s no hard feelings, though. According to Mark.

“N-no, you don’t have to. He’s probably just enjoying the night in. Let’s...leave him be.”

“Okay,” you grin and take another bite.

After you finish eating, you make the decision to migrate back to the couch to check out some of the stuff on your DVR. Doyoung has dominated most of the drive space but there’s some shows that you know Mark likes. You tape them on the off chance that he comes over and no one else has something else they want to watch instead.

“Should we watch that zombie series,” Mark asks as he scrolls through the listings.

“I hate their graphics.”

“I know,” he snorts. “But it’s funny how mad you get at their fake blood. Might be fun to watch.”

“If you really wanna watch you can, but I’m not looking. I’m just gonna make myself comfy here, instead.”

You say all this as you proceed to stretch yourself over Mark’s already lounging form. You slot yourself between his thighs before hitching a leg up over his hip. Your head is pillowed by his shoulder and you cage him in with your arms.

“We don’t have to watch it. It’s more fun to watch with Yuta anyway. He always screams so loud, like, I swear he has a 4 octave range sometimes.”

“You’re such a music major,” you wrinkle your nose before peeking up. “Can I hear that project you’ve been working on in the studio?”

Mark’s cheeks flush under the blue light cast by the TV screen. He doesn’t say anything at first, but he does nod. You get up just long enough for him to grab his phone and the pair of over-the-ear headphones he always carries with him.

He takes care to brush your hair out of the way and slip the headphones onto your head gently. He sneaks in a pinch of your cheeks while you wait for him to cue up the song and laughs at the way your eyes crinkle in light annoyance.

The song begins and he alternates between gnawing at his bottom lip and watching your expression unblinkingly. Mark is actually doing super well in his Music Production 401 class and his professor is trying to get him to do an independent study next term. But he’s a perfectionist when it comes to his music. The song’s not finished even though he and Taeyong have been working on it nonstop for the last week and a half.

After a few minutes, you slide the headphones off. 

“I like it,” you whisper. “I wish I could tell you something more helpful but I don’t know anything about making music.”

“No, no. Honestly, that’s enough. I feel like you always tell me when you don’t really like what we have, so this is—good.”

“What are you gonna call it?” You grab his free hand and Mark darts his head around to survey the room. 

“Tae wants to call it something like “welcome to my playground”. We have to run the name by the other guys in the project. But Professor Seo thinks we should put it online once it’s done.”

“Promise you won’t forget about me when you blow up on SoundCloud.”

Mark tosses his head back and laughs at your teasing, before reaching out for revenge. He grabs at your waist and pulls you down so he can dig his fingers into your sides, knowing exactly where to go so he can torture you.

You let out a gasp and try your hardest to protect your sensitive underarms and the sides of your ribs from him, but it’s too late. Frenzied laughs pour from your mouth and you fight to stay upright. It’s a fight that you lose but not without bringing Mark down with you.

The two of you topple over the edge of the couch in a heap of throw pillows and decorative blankets. You fall first and brace yourself for the impact of Mark’s body. It’s not as painful as you thought it would be and when you crack an eye open you realize it’s because he managed to prop himself up at the last second.

Mark laughs again, but this time it’s small and breathless as he takes in the sight of you underneath him. He yanks himself up so at least his upper half is upright and he looks around again.

“Why are you acting so suspicious? You’ve been acting like you have a dirty secret all night.” You sit up too then, pulling your knees to yourself.

“Ah, really? I dunno.”

But he does know. 

Mark is a man of many good traits. He’d like to think, based on what others have told him, that he’s reliable. Hardworking, nice. Maybe even a little handsome if he listens to his mom. But most of all he is incredibly patient.

The last 2 months that you have been dating have consisted of being cockblocked at every turn. And the same thing happened when he was trying to find a good moment to confess to you after realizing that he liked you. Because he and you shared too many friends. Well-meaning but stupid friends.

“I mean—like, I guess I just got so used to us being interrupted by the guys that it’s a habit. Sorry.”

“We’re alone now, though.”

“Ha, right,” he tugs on the collar of his hoodie. “Yeah.”

“So...do you still want to watch the DVR on the couch?”

“Uh, we don’t have to. We could do something else.”

“What do you want to do,” you ask as your fingers crawl up his torso. With a gentle press to his hoodie-clad chest, Mark‘s back hits the seat of the couch. 

“Wuh—we could listen to the new SuperK album.” 

You shake your head and slink into his lap. You fiddle with the zipper on the front of his hoodie, enjoying the way he fails to keep his cool in the moment.

He looks up at you then, eyes round. “We could... watch that movie Cloud Break. It’s supposed to be really romantic—”

You shake your head again and lean in. “Saw it ages ago,” you murmur against the skin of his neck.

He huffs out a laugh, partly because of the tickle from your lips planting light kisses on his throat and partly because your answer is ridiculous.

“It premiered in theaters two days ago, dude.”

“I have connections,” is all you say before switching to kisses on the corner of his mouth.

Rarely do moments like this ever arise. With your friend group, someone is always in your dorm, or in Mark’s, or texting one of you to let you know you’ll be interrupted soon. One too many traumatic occasions where he didn’t heed the warning taught Mark to be hypervigilant of how he interacted with you. 

Honestly, he’s not even sure what to do first now. You’ve already unzipped his hoodie to splay your palms over his chest. He’s certain you can feel the fluttering dance his heart is doing under your hands. His own palms itch with inactivity. But laying them on the bare skin of your waist under the fabric of your shirt feels a bit like a balm against his clammy skin.

It’s like a switch is flipped. Like you’ve both realized how long you’ve been waiting for this moment. Suddenly everything is wandering hands and soft gasps. Time behaves funny in the privacy of the little universe being created on the floor by the couch. First it’s the quick, rough pass of your shirt over your head, getting tangled along overeager elbows along the way. Then it’s the slow and gentle brush of Mark’s knuckles against the skin of your abdomen as he attempts to unbutton your pants with shaking hands. You ask him if he’s scared while thumbing at the plush swell of his lips which are pursed in concentration. He tells you he’s just excited with an equally-shaky chuckle.

That’s what you love about Mark. Probably one of the things everyone loves about Mark. He’s thorough, admirably so. Just like he took his time with his confession,!l and his time with your jeans, he takes time appraising every inch of exposed skin. Some moments are moments of familiarity and he nips at the skin like it’s an old greeting. Some moments are moments of discovery, for both of you. He’s gentler then, drawing a new version of you out from yourself in the form of drawn out gasps or curses.

Many are moments of reciprocity. There are times when you hope his touch leaves fingerprints behind, something that you can keep long after your sweat has dried. And every touch he gives is matched with one you return. The feel of your palm on him, over him, around him draws his muscles taut. When you finally slot together, of course it’s like two puzzle pieces. It’s just right and the breath Mark releases then is almost like a sigh of relief. 

Often relief is a quiet, calm thing. Not always, certainly not now. You and Mark chase this relief panting and sometimes clawing at one another. He’s jerky as he moves over you. With arms shaking on either side of his head and this jaw grit tight, he tries his best to make it to the end with you. The way you moan and lock your thighs around him to pull him closer and deeper are the things that push him off the edge. He spills into you with a choked off groan that tapers off when he pulls away finally.

He’s exhausted, but still attentive in his aftermath. Mark whispers sweet nothings into your ear as he beckons you closer to your own orgasm with his hand. The feeling of working over you through the slick of his cum awakens something in the corners of his mind, but he puts that back. For another day, he reasons. Another one of those rare days when he can get you alone. Next time he won’t hesitate.

“You feel good,” he nuzzles the tip of his nose by the base of your ear.

Your breath hitches wetly and you reach down to grip his still twisting wrist. The touch grounds you only slightly because he changes the angle and suddenly you’re floating towards white light once more. Mark watches your hips raise in little broken motions to reach your own high.

Immediately, you pull him back in. He’s confident in the way he follows this time. He swoops in over you, kissing you like the sex had merely whetted his appetite.

“Is there still chicken?”

The sound of Jungwoo’s voice drives you two apart so fast your joints crack. You shriek and pull the closest piece of clothing you can find over your lap and torso. It just so happens to be Mark’s sweatpants, leaving him defenseless and bare.

Jungwoo pokes his head out from behind his bedroom door, headphones hanging around his neck with music oozing softly from the ears. Whatever he sees must be appropriate enough, because he nods to himself then and strolls toward the kitchen. The leftover Chicken Haus sits neatly packaged away thanks to Mark’s previous care.

“Bro, what the hell,” Mark whines from behind the safety of the couch. Just his head peeks over the cushions, making him look tiny. Like a tiger cub woken prematurely. Jungwoo laughs.

“I thought you said you bought enough to share. There’s no way you guys were gonna finish all this on your own.”

“That’s not—” Mark sighs, “That’s not what I mean.”

“Then what?”

“We’re kind of doing something here.” He jerks his chin down to where you’re hidden from view still. Neither of them can see your grimace. 

“Oh, yeah, we know.”

“We?” 

Your head and naked shoulders pop up then. Mark shifts his arm subtly in front you to preserve what’s left of your modesty. It doesn’t do much.

“Yeah, me and the others were in my room. We heard you did good on the test from our friend Lucas—you know the one who TAs for orgo? We were gonna surprise you, so we all got here early.”

“How early,” Mark’s voice is steady, eerily so. 

Jungwoo picks up another nugget and chews thoughtfully while he picks the right things to say. Johnny is the one who is known for being scary when angry, but Mark’s silent fury is frightening in its own right. A tiger cub is still a tiger, after all.

“Early,” he finally says.

“Fuck,” Mark covers his eyes with his hands. His cheeks bloom over rapidly. “Are you kidding me? Like for real?”

“Jungwoo,” Taeyong’s stage whisper cuts through the outburst. “Are they done yet?”

“You think he’s just standing out there talking to himself while they’re still doing it,” Doyoung’s voice enters next.

“Don’t act like you wouldn’t stop to watch a little on the way back,” Yuta scoffs.

“Guys, stop, this is so weird. That’s Mark we’re talking about.” The sound of Johnny’s internal crisis is almost as loud as his distressed non-whisper.

Jungwoo snorts before piling a plate high with more chicken. “You sound like such a mom, John.”

“Hey, wait is there still chicken?” Taeil’s sleepy voice is followed by Haechan giving an affirmative.

The guys stream out of Jungwoo’s tiny suite like a swarm of ants making a line towards the kitchen. Some of them hop onto the counter while Doyoung distributes plates. Others grab up the remaining stools and continue to discuss Mark’s new lack of virginity while serving up fries and nuggets. None of them seem to be concerned about yours or Mark’s presence with their backs turned towards you.

As the others continue to bicker amongst themselves, you turn to Mark. With a knowing look, he gestures for you to pass him his sweats. In silence, you both dress yourselves before making a break to your room. You enter first, diving head first into your bed out of mortification. Mark makes sure to close the door as soundlessly as possible before turning to you.

“We need new friends,” the two of you say in unison.

[princess-butters]

Just a celebrity [knj X reader]

A/n: Hi, I know it’s been a while since my last post, I legit have no excuse except that it’s procrastination and that I had no ideas to go by, I still don’t, but I’m trying my best to write as much as I can now. I have a fanfic in the works that I have coming up and it’s hard to write each chapter without it being mostly filler and actually relevant to the story, you know? It’s actually something that’s been in the works for almost 4. Fucking. Years. and I’m just now writing most of the chapters I have planned. It’s somewhat of a short story too which I’m glad because I was really worried it would be too long and dragged out with said filler but what I do have is a character introduction to the characters. It’s not all of them but it’s at least something to begin the story so once it’s done, I can post it and show you guys what I’m working on. But anyways I’m getting sidetracked. This was originally supposed to be for an imagine but it became too long and I decided it should be its own story so enjoy.

Warnings: [TW // Mentions of forced strict diet, and starvation, Namjoon really wants to eat but can’t because of his company, description of being underweight. Fluff with bits of angst. Y/n is a cynical bitch to Namjoon in the beginning but warms up to him at the end of their first encounter. It’s a fluffy relationship at the end. If I’m missing any TW, please let me know.]

Word count: 1.8k

Your first interaction with Namjoon was during his concerts in Korea since you were studying abroad and your friend, whom you’ve met online and was the sole reason why you wanted to move here, told you about a K-pop group that had debuted a while ago and it’s safe to say that you...didn’t care too much for their music and you only went to their concert to support your friend who was quickly becoming a big fan of them. It’s a unique story, really, it’s not your simple story of a fangirl who goes to some concert and one of the members sees them in the audience and brings them backstage. No, this was completely different. You never had the desire about fantasizing idols when you were younger, now that’s not to say that you didn’t enjoy music because you did, hell, you even own band merch that you still proudly wear but you never found them to be attractive like most fans would and always saw them just as artists.

While Namjoon did spot you and your friend in the crowd, he didn’t tell some security guard so you could exchange phone numbers – it was by complete accident and fate one day when you were walking home from the grocery store to pick up some food for you and your friend until you heard someone bolting towards you, running away from something that seemed serious. Annoyed and a bit taken back by his actions at first, you glance behind you not expecting much but what you didn’t expect was the amount of crazed fangirls heading your way. Gasping as you saw the hurdle of fans, your feet were stuck planted on the ground, standing there frozen with fear as the young, violent fans inched closer and closer, pushing each other around like a bunch of wild animals, until you felt the warmth of someone’s hand, presumably the same guy from earlier.

“Come on, don’t just stand there like a crazy person! I know a place where we can get rid of them!” He sounded young, about your age, the young musician took your hand in his and dragged you with him.

And that’s how you became stuck with each other behind some gritty, old building, trash bins and garbage all over the bleak scenery, you and the young musician huddled up together in-between two dumpsters as the loud and obnoxious cheers of fans faded out into the air. Both sighing with relief, you look up at him unimpressed.

“I guess this is your everyday lifestyle?” You question the young star and he lets out a heavy sigh, still trying to catch his breath from running so fast. It probably didn’t help matters that he was also dragging you along with him.

“You haven’t seen the worst of it. I usually find these girls in my room.” He tells you nonchalantly, like he’s used to it at this point.

“Shouldn’t that be considered trespassing?”

“Yeah but there’s nothing I can do about it. I’m a big star around here and what these girls want, they’ll sure as hell get it.”

“Wow. And here I thought you were just another puppet for the music industry.” You reply back with a snarky undertone, lifting yourself up from the ground and wiping any muck and dirt left on your clothes. The young musician didn’t take your words kindly and narrowed his eyebrows together.

“Hey listen, it’s not as easy as you may think. Just be thankful you’re still alive because if they had caught you, you would’ve been roadkill by now.” He commented as if it was a statement of fact.

“I barely know you!” You argued, lifting your arms up to emphasize your point.

“Doesn’t matter to them. They see some girl out with a popular celebrity, they become lions and you’re their prey.”

You roll at his comment, thinking he’s just over-exaggerating. “Well thank you for the joyride, but I really should get back to my apartment.”

“What did you get?” He asks curiously as he stares at your bag full of food, he sounded like a kid who saw a bag full of candy on Halloween.

“Black bean noodles with rice on the side.” You explain to him simply, going over to make sure you got exactly what you needed and it didn’t fall out while you were running.

The man rests his hand against his stomach, it begins rumbling with hunger as he heard those three words. He hasn’t eaten since yesterday because of the intense and strict schedule his company has forced him to go through and he would be lying right now if he said he wasn’t hungry. “Black bean noodles? That sounds really good! That’s one of my favorite dishes, I haven’t had something like that in a while.”

You cross your arms, thinking it was his way of attempting to relate to you on some level. “Oh please, you’re a star! I bet you eat everything that’s handed to you.” You didn’t mean for it to come out so cold and bitter but you couldn’t help yourself, this was some celebrity and you’ve had a dislike for them because a lot of them are just stuck-up snobs who bully everyone lower class than them. The man gives you a look that even you couldn’t figure out, almost like he was envisioning the different foods he wished he could eat but couldn’t.

“I wish it were that simple. My company would kill me if they saw me eating anything like that, I’m forced to be on a strict diet and I’m barely allowed to eat a granola bar let alone noodles.”

Shocked by his explanation, you lower down your arms and began feeling bad for making such assumptions. You alternate looking between him and the food, clearly the thought of him starving had profusely disturbed you and you couldn’t help but send an expression of empathy and sadness to the lone musician. When you decided to speak up once more, your voice went up an octave, softly responding back in a more friendly manner, it was your discreet way of apologizing to the poor guy for being so harsh. “Really? I’ve never got it before. My friend likes them and practically begged me to get it for her.”

“Your friend has good taste. I guess I better get going, the fans have died down and it’s probably safe for me to leave. It was nice meeting you.”

“Yeah.” You mindlessly say as you watch him turn around before you could say anything else but when he rounds the corner, you quickly find your voice once again and call out to him, hoping he hasn’t left just yet. “Hey! If you want to, why don’t you come over and have dinner?”

He emerges from the side and leans against the bricks walls, hands in his pockets like he’s trying to protect himself from the freezing cold. “I can’t. Mostly because we don’t know each other and my company would kill me if I ate something that wasn’t on their list which is not many, to be honest.”

You slowly walk up towards him and look at him directly, taking a minute to look at his features. Poor thing looked like he was starving himself, even though you’ve never liked idols and found them all to be the same mindless puppets, it can’t be said for this guy. His cheek bones were hollowed, he’s skinny but to an unhealthy standard, and his eyes were baggy and darkened around the sockets, almost sunken in. You couldn’t tell if it was from a lack of sleep, starvation, or both. You hesitate for a moment before placing your mitten hand on top of his exposed hand. “But you’re starving. I can’t let you walk away and not have something.”

“I really can’t.”

“Please? I really don’t want to leave you in this state and the food I have isn’t that bad for you.”

After realizing that you’re not gonna give up on this and that you really were serious, he took a second to think it over. The thought really was enticing and he would be lying to himself once more if he said he wasn’t interested and desperate to eat anything, even if it came from a complete stranger, and he knew the food was legit because well, he can see it very clearly. “Well...alright.”

Once you heard his confirmation, you show a small smile and nodded with him. “Then it’s settled! Off to my house we go!” You latch onto his arm and begin walking home with him when another thought came to mind and halted in your steps. “Oh yeah, you’d better wear your disguise or we’re gonna be running from your psycho fans. I didn’t even catch your name.”

A chuckle came out of him as he placed his cap snug on his head and his mask covering half of his face, the only thing visible were his eyes, everything else made him seem like he was invincible to the public eye. “My name’s Namjoon.”

“So you’re that Namjoon guy my friend always talks about! Oh boy, this is gonna be fun.” You smirk to yourself as you two resume walking, the thought of your friend acting like a complete psycho in front of her bias entertained you.

Once you and Namjoon arrived at your place, your first instinct when you walked through the front door was give an explanation to your friend about why you were late and how worried she was. When you told her what had happened and showed her evidence to prove your case, her reaction was a lot more different than how she usually is. Throughout the evening, you and Namjoon got along fairly well—with the exception of your friend asking him benign questions about his career as an idol and if the other members are exactly the same in real life—you would frequently apologize for her erratic behavior as it worried you it would make the idol uncomfortable but he says it’s nothing compared to what he always hears from fangirls.

You and Namjoon surprisingly hit it off at the end of the night and you exchanged phone numbers when he was about to leave and promised each other you would meet again soon, this time without your friend in the picture. After he left, thoughts began to provoke and you wondered to yourself that maybe, just maybe, you were wrong about idols for once.

And now let’s look at today’s events, where are you and Namjoon right now in your relationship? Well one thing’s for certain is that you two are officially dating and have been since 2017, two years after your initial meeting. When you two became more comfortable with each other, he had invited you over to the dorms and introduced you to his members, to which they immediately welcomed you into their group with open arms, you’ve actually become best friends with some of them. It’s been a fun and crazy ride, exploring different countries and cultures had never crossed your mind before but now you can safely say that it’s been one of the best things to have ever happened in your life. You were fortunate to have somebody like him and him you because along the way, you have made each other better, Namjoon had taught you that being guarded and stubborn shouldn’t lock you out of the world and it’s okay to let your guard down sometimes, and you taught him that just because he was an idol doesn’t mean there shouldn’t be any boundaries and that he was a human being first.

Whenever the media caught wind of your relationship, they always thought it was just a fling and that the two of you would break up like everybody else in the industry but so far, you have proved each and every one of them wrong and now both you and Joon don’t give two shits about what everybody says.

[lu-undy]

New Sniper/Spy short - The spicy quarrel

Mundy and Lu get into an innuendo war. It starts off innocently, then it gradually escalates to the point where its every other sentence they say to each other. It gets too much when they have no shame and start doing it in front of other teammates (who and how many times it happens is up to you), and they finally have to stop when another teammate (Medic maybe) has to step in and tell them off. :3

"Mundy, what did I tell you about my cigarettes…?"

"That they're awfully expensive?" Mundy answered from the sofa and Lucien rolled his eyes. 

"Non," He sighed, annoyed, "I told you that the case should always be either in my breast pocket, or on the night table." 

"Ah, yeah, and?" 

"And they are not in either of those places." Lucien added, irritated, and as he emerged out of his (now their) room, he saw Mundy with one of the said cigarettes between his lips. "Where did you put the case again?" 

"I don't know, can't remember, but it can't be far…" 

Lucien was tired. 

"If it is indeed that close, find it back and put it where it should be!" 

"Alright, alright, no need to make a fuss!"

"Yes there is a need to make a fuss! How many times have I told you already? I am happy for you to help yourself to anything that I have, but it needs to still go back to where it belongs! Argh…" Lucien sighed. "You are such a child sometimes! It's almost as if you do it on purpose!" 

"On purpose?! D'you think I take yer cigs around for a walk?! Nah! Anyway, it's dinner time, we should go with the others."

Lucien grumbled and took Mundy's glasses off his very head. 

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I am hiding your glasses."

"You're what?!"

"I am hiding your glasses." Lucien repeated. 

"Why are you doing that?" 

"Maybe that way you will understand how painfully annoying it is to not find something!" 

And on that Lucien cloaked, hiding from his lover's sight. 

"Lu'?! Come back here and give me my glasses back!" Mundy crushed his cigarette butt in the ashtray and stood up. "D'you really think I take yer cigs and hide them just for fun?!"

He looked around him and couldn't see Lucien, neither could he hear him.

"For fuck's sake, Lu'?!"

He decloaked in front of Mundy with a devilish smile on his lips. 

"Let's go and have some dinner, shall we?" Lucien said with a voice so calm that it made Mundy angrier. 

They both left their room and went to the kitchen. Engie and Pyro had prepared some spaghetti Bolognese and all the mercenaries were around the table, enjoying their meal and chatting away until…

"Ooh, what's wrong, fancypants? You're not saying anything?" Scout asked Spy. 

"Oh, my apologies, Scout, I couldn't hear you over the delightful sound of Sniper's boiling rage." He answered, wiping the corners of his mouth elegantly with his napkin. Sniper raised furious eyes to him. 

"Oh, wow, I didn't know he could get angry!" Scout said. "And where are your glasses, Snipes? You must feel so weird without them, hehe."

"Oh, oui." Spy continued. "He must feel almost naked in front of us all."

"You bloody mongrel…" He mumbled between his teeth. "My glasses are wherever on Earth you put them!"

Scout's eyebrows jumped. 

"You use his glasses?!" He asked Spy. 

"Non, I don't. I just put them somewhere he won't find them." Spy's arrogant smile made Sniper clench his fists harder on his cutlery. 

"Why would you do that, lad?" Demo asked. 

"I am teaching him a lesson. Do not place things anywhere else but where they should be."

"He's pissed off cause he can't find his bloody cigs, and so he stole my glasses and put them God knows where!" Sniper explained. "And you call me childish?"

"Oui, I call you exactly that, Bushman! You know very well that I cannot stand to not find my belongings!"

The fight started anew in front of all their colleagues this time. Of course, they all knew that Spy and Sniper had a special relationship, but none of them had seen them quarrel, or seen Sniper actually getting angry. 

"Yeah Mister Everything's-Bloody-Perfect-And-Organised! I know you're obsessed with having everything tidied up perfectly!"

"I am not obsessed! I just like things to be where they should, don't you agree, Monsieur I-Behave-Like-A-Child?!"

And the tennis match went on between the two as the mercenaries swung their eyes left and right while eating their spaghetti. 

"Uhm, Spy, maybe it would be better to keep this with Sniper?" Medic tried to reason them. 

"I do agree with you, but my companion here prefers to continue making me angry before your eyes!"

"Your companion?!" Sniper repeated. 

"Oui, what would you prefer? The nonsensical child I choose to burden myself with?!" Spy answered.

"Oh how the tables turned! They didn't just turn, mate, they spun to bloody space! Now I'm a burden, am I?" 

"Right now? Oui!"

"You didn't call me a burden last night, eh?" 

Spy dropped his fork and all the mercenaries blushed, apart from Soldier and Demo… 

"Look, private, I put 20 American US of A dollars on that Frenchie with a suit." He half-whispered to Demo. 

"Nah, laddie, you don't know them Aussies, they're stubborn as all hell! I'll put me money on Sniper."

"Non, last night, you were not a burden," Spy answered, "Odd how quickly things can change in a few hours."

"Yeah well, and what a few hours, eh?"

Spy went from red to crimson and even with his mask on, it showed. He screwed his eyes shut and exhaled from his nostrils, like a mad bull. Demo and Soldier were excitedly following the fight like a game of boxing while Engie and Medic's jaws had dropped, Heavy crossed his arms on his chest and shook his head, disappointed, Scout had slammed both his hands on his mouth in an attempt to not burst out laughing, and Pyro wasn't understanding what the fuss was all about.

But Sniper saw how embarrassed his lover was and decided to go on, push him to his limits. 

"Yeah, cause it lasted hours last night, didn't it?" He smiled evilly.

Spy kept his head low. 

"Oh, yeah it did, and you remember what you called me, hm?"

Engie slammed his hands on Pyro's ears. 

"Uhm, Py', uh, why don't you go and have lunch outside, eh? See the pretty bugs you like?" 

Pyro nodded excitedly and took his plate before leaving. He wasn't going to question Engie's odd decision. He had always refused to let him go and eat outside with his beloved insects, but if he changed his mind, Pyro wasn't going to give Engie the time to come back on his own decision.

 Meanwhile, Spy was thinking fast. There was no way Sniper would go too far with his words, the man was too shy for that. In that case, it was all bluff and Spy decided to turn the situation in his favour. He smiled as he made his mind to push Sniper to his limits, which he knew couldn't be much further. Spy took his fork again in his hand and elegantly swirled it around the pasta in his plate. 

"I'm afraid my memory is not what it used to be, Sniper. Pray refresh it and tell me what I called you last night?" 

Oh the arrogance and the nerve of Spy sometimes…! Sniper clenched his jaw. He didn't want to go further in the debate, he had thought that Spy would stop before him as he usually was the most reasonable of them two. But he also happened to be the least shy and not quite as prude as Sniper… 

"Bloody hell…" Sniper sighed and he thought in his mind that if Spy was ready to go down that road, he would follow him, because that was the only way to destabilise him and maybe get the upper hand. Sniper raised his eyes to meet his lover's dangerous smirk.

"Well, you did call me 'please, please Sniper never stop', amongst other things…" Sniper put his fork in his mouth and slurped the spaghetti with the widest smile as Spy's jaw dropped, his lips visibly parting and his pupils retracting to a dot. 

"And then I was 'Oh, you make me feel so good', I think there was a 'Mon Dieu', nah actually there were lots of them but I couldn't hear it very clearly cause you were biting the pillow, trying to smother yer own moans…" 

Spy could not believe his ears and his eyes. Was it truly happening?! How?! From the corner of his eye, he saw Demo take an enthusiastic swig of his scrumpy. 

Spy was however confident. Sniper had got bold in a way that didn't exactly look like him, oui, but did he forget how dirty Spy's mind was…?

"Ah oui, indeed! You are a God in bed, it is true." 

Medic almost buried his head in his plate, face first in the spaghetti and their sauce. 

"Non, I mean it. Rarely have I slept with a man that could make me sing in octaves that my voice never explored before." 

Soldier nudged Demo with his elbow and rubbed his hands. 

"Do not be mistaken, Gentlemen." Spy addressed the rest of the crew. "In my extensive experience of lovers, never have I met anyone, man or woman, who was so skilled with their hands as he is."

"What the fuck d'you mean?!" Scout now slowly turned from amused to mildly scared at how far the two least sociable mercenaries now unravelled their private lives in front of the rest of them. 

"What I mean, Scout, is that Sniper here is a formidable love partner." 

Sniper was confused beyond what his mind could comprehend. He was sweating bullets with the heat of the embarrassment but at the same time, he couldn't help but feel proud at the compliments that Spy was listing. 

"This man, sitting in front of me, knows how to use his hands very well, touching, pulling and grabbing, groping even. He makes love like the wild animal that he hides behind his blush."

Spy went on, unfazed.

"And he is very versatile with his strong hands. He would sometimes palm me, grasping my flesh as if it belonged to him, and other times, he would let his curious fingertips explore, graze the surface of my skin, send shivers everywhere, make my hairs stand up and bend down under his magnetic touch."

Sniper pulled his hat down to cover his face and Spy smirked. 

"I should also mention his lips and tongue. His lips are absolutely delicious, if a bit chapped at times, when I don't remind him to take care of them. He has a way of finding my weaknesses and play with them in the most exquisite way with them."

Spy finished his plate and, sitting back on his chair, he continued.

"If he isn't very prolific with his words, the man reserves his tongue for other uses. His kisses are like none other. They convey all the complexity of his emotions. They can be quick and efficient, or slower, mellow, even sloppy sometimes. The slickness is perfect."

Heavy nudged Medic with his elbow and nodded in direction of the door. Medic understood and both of them headed off.

"And that is just when he uses his tongue on mine." Spy continued undisturbed. 

Sniper hunched his back, pulling the hat more, clenching his fingers on it. He screwed his eyes shut beneath it. 

"Oui, when Sniper makes love to me, it is unlike any other thing I have experienced in my long life."

Scout looked at Engie, his eyes bigger than planets and both decided to leave. Soldier was almost jumping on his seat with excitement next to Demo who was watching, his one eye wide open. 

Spy pushed his chair back and stood up. He walked around the table as he spoke. 

"Non, Sniper is the lover that I could only dream of meeting, someone who can make my heart and the rest burst."

"S-spook…" Sniper barely managed to speak but Spy ignored it and continued. 

"Oh, did you want to add something? Do you want to perhaps enlighten us on how good of a lover I am? This won't come as a surprise to anyone, my reputation precedes me in this field. My reputation, and the clichés associated with my country of origin. However, in your case, that is one curious surprise." 

Soldier opened his hand, palm up, to Demo who sighed before putting the money in it. They stood up and left the kitchen, leaving only Spy and Sniper together. 

"You, the shy man in a van, the prude and always-blushing kangaroo with absurdly long legs, you," Spy was now behind Sniper's chair. He pulled it away from the table. "You are a surprise and a half." 

Sniper would have eaten his hat out of embarrassment in front of the others. 

"You are able to drive me, a trained intelligence expert, absolutely mad with anger, or lust, or even both." 

Sniper got startled as he felt something on his lap. He jerked his head up and moved his hat away. Spy was sitting on his lap, straddling his thighs with a smile that Sniper found very hard to resist. 

Meanwhile, Engie crossed the corridor and was about to exit the base when-

"What in Samhill are y'all doing here?"

"Sshhh!" Scout put a finger on his lips. Him and all the rest of the mercenaries were in front of the kitchen door. There was a window in it through which they were all watching the quarrel between Sniper and Spy. 

"C'mere, Hard Hat." Scout pulled Engie to stand in front of him and join them. They were watching through that slim window like they would a TV show. 

"S-spook…"

Inside the kitchen, Spy and Sniper were still talking. 

"Oui, mon amour?"

[My love?]

Sniper wanted to put his hands on Spy's sides but it felt weird. Wasn't he still angry?

"I-I'm sorry, I'll look for your cigarettes and put them back in your pocket."

Spy bent forward and gently put his forehead on Sniper's while his hands cupped his face. 

"Where are the others?" Sniper asked. 

"They are right behind the kitchen door observing us as if we couldn't see them back."

Sniper turned to see his colleagues at the door and he panicked. 

"W-what are you doin' on my lap then, they're watch-hm?!" 

Spy put his index on Sniper's lips and turned his head such that he was now facing him. 

"They have been knowing for us for a long time. Also, after what we have been saying today, I think there isn't much left to hide." Spy chuckled. "Mon amour, I am sorry for what happened today, I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything, I am just tired of looking for my things all the time…"

Sniper looked his lover in the eyes and smiled.

"I know, darl'. I should be the one apologising. I love you." Sniper wrapped his arms around Spy and pulled him such that they held each other close. 

"I love you too, Sniper." 

"Spook?"

"Oui?"

"Did you really think what you said?" 

"What?" 

"Everything you said to the others, did you really mean it?" 

Spy broke the embrace and cupped Sniper's face again. 

"What do you think?" 

"I-I don't know…" 

"Mundy, if anybody else but you had used my cigarette case, do you think that I would forgive them?"

"Yeah, yeah I think you would." Mundy honestly answered. 

"Then you have changed me in more ways than I thought." Lucien brushed his thumbs on Mundy's rough cheeks. "I love you." 

"Me too, darl'. I-I really thought you'd stay mad at me forever…" Mundy finally put his hands on Lucien's sides and the Frenchman locked his feet behind Mundy's back.

"With anyone else but you, oui. But not you. You count too much."

Lucien bent forward and put his lips on Mundy's. 

"Pardners, we really shouldn't stay here-" 

Engie wanted to head away but Scout held him in place with two firm hands on his shoulders. 

"I win again! It's Spy who kissed Sniper!" Soldier announced. "And that's another 20 American God-blessed U.S.D. dollars that you owe me, you English imperialist!"

"I'm Scottish, lad, nothin' to do with the English."

"You're exactly the same, except that you wear a skirt like a lady-oh…?"

Lucien and Mundy were now very much at ease alone in the kitchen and with a twist of his tongue, Lucien managed to make him forget that the rest of the team was still watching.

"Oh and Mundy?"

"Yeah?" 

"Of course I meant what I said. I don't lie."

Mundy raised a doubtful eyebrow.

"I don't lie to you, or about you." 

Mundy nodded with a smile and bent forward to take Lucien's lower lip between his, before letting his hands pull him as hard as he could. 

"Lu'?" 

"Oui?"

"My glasses, where did you put them?"

Lucien smiled. 

"As close as I could to my heart." 

Mundy frowned for a second, not understanding what Lucien meant.

“Where is my heart, Mundy?”

Mundy put his hand on Spy’s chest, on his jacket and felt something odd. He looked up at Lucien’s eyes, who nodded. Mundy opened the jacket and put his hand in his breast pocket.

“Oh…?”

“I told you, they were as close as I could put them to my heart.”

Lucien took the glasses off Mundy’s hands and put them on his nose. 

“There you are, oh and here.” He added the hat. “Now you are the good old shy Sniper.”

“Nah, love,” Lucien’s eyebrows jumped. “I’m the man who makes love to you like the animal he hides behind his blush.” Mundy quoted Lucien and the Frenchman smiled.

“Please do.”